Chapter Text
Danny is tired. He is so tired.
Months pass by, and every day it’s something new. Something new coming for him, to bother him, always him.
Skulker, Technus, Vlad, Pariah, the fucking Box Ghost , there’s always something there to ruin his fucking day. He can’t get a single fucking break.
Danny hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in over 3 months, he thinks, and it shows on his face. Deep bags are carved out under his eyes, and his face is sunken and hollow. He’s skinny, too skinny. His only energy comes from his weekly trips to the ghost zone.
So yeah, he’s tired.
And one day, Skulker chooses just the wrong moment to attack.
He is singled out in the middle of the street as Skulker yells at him.
“I will have your pelt, boy, whether you like it or not!”
There’s a moment of silence after his words where no one dares to say anything.
Then, Danny turns, going ghost in the middle of the street. His gaze sends involuntary shivers down Skulker’s spine, confusing the hunter.
“When will it stop, Skulker?”
Skulker’s silence speaks his confusion more than words would, silence so thick in the air you could cut it.
“Haven’t I given enough? Haven’t I done enough? When will it be enough, Skulker? When you finally have my pelt on your ancient-damned wall? When Vlad gets his way with my family?”
“I-” Skulker speaks, only to be cut off.
“I’m a fool, a damned fool, for thinking anything will change, aren’t I? Nothing will change. Not you, not the other ghosts, not my parents, nothing. It never changes, and isn’t that just so fucking poetic?”
It’s like the giant bucket at a water park.
Danny’s bucket is full, about to spill.
Amity Park is about to be the poor, unsuspecting child standing under it.
“When will it be enough? When will I be enough? When will it stop?”
Ectoplasmic tears fall down Danny’s face as his voice echoes, dangerously close to a wail.
“When? Or am I really just the fool? Everyone laugh it up at the foolish ghost who tries to help! Doesn’t he know he’s dead too, and nobody’s fucking mourning?”
His voice echoes through the town, wailish in quality and full of anguish.
A storm brews above Amity, the wing whipping around Danny, blowing his hair around wildly. The thunder roars, but Danny can’t hear much above the ringing in his ears.
The world is reacting as the Ghost King’s anguish spills over the edges.
“I find it so ironic that despite being dead, everyone acts like I’m still alive. I’m not. I’m fucking dead, and yet I’m still expected to, what, be the town fucking hero? I’m 14, and I’ll never be more. What the fuck can I do?”
His anguish leaks into the infinite realms as trees come down and lighting strikes everything high enough.
“I am so-”
Waves terrorize the coastlines.
“Fucking-”
Deserts begin to flood-
“
TIRED.
”
…
And then, quiet. Comfort, like a warm towel.
‘ Hello, child, ’ says Gotham, having felt his anguish. She holds him close and warm, swaddled in stars and fog. ‘ I feel your pain. Please, let me help. ’
Danny knows his answer before she even finishes.
Gotham smiles.
…
Danny wakes up, three years old, with a blanket of stars over his shoulders. He is on the roof a building he knows nothing of.
Danny cries because he’s cold and it’s begun to rain in Gotham.
Hush, child, Gotham whispers in his ear. My city is your new playground .
Danny’s cries quiet.
And little Danny smiles, because he feels loved. He ties his blanket of stars around his neck tighter and begins to float. His memories are hazy, but he doesn’t mind, because here is this wonderful new place for him to explore!
And so he begins to leap from roof to roof, giggling all the way.
Gotham smiles upon him.