Echo's Chaos Centre

Grandpa

Imagine dis…

This inspired my fridge being full again, here’s a flash back

Me: Thanks for treating me at my favorite restaurant, Grandpa, but you really don't have to do this every time I visit your house.

Grandpa: Don't worry about it, kid.

Me: I'm *realage*, definitely not a kid, Grandpa...

Grandpa: As long as you're not in your 30s yet, you're still a kid. Come on, pick whatever dessert you want, it's on me.

Me: No thanks, I'm saving up for a special treat.

Grandpa: Didn't you hear me, brat? (fondly) I said it's on me. And what treat are you saving up for? Did my daughter didn’t gave you enough pocket money again?

Me: No, it's not like that, Grandpa. You and Mom give me plenty. It's just that there's this *brand* I've been dying to get ever since I first tried it, so I'm saving up to buy it.

*a few months later*

Me: MAAAAAA!

Mom: What's wrong, honey?

Me: Why is there a bunch of *brand* in the fridgeeee? These are expensive!

*I said as I look at the prices on my phone, fearing I missed some sort of discount for buying in bulk.*

Mom: Dad apparently wanted to try some ever since he saw it in a commercial and bought too many. He sent some extras here...

Me: *Takes a long inhale* AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

….…..

We all have that grandfather. The one who insists he doesn’t play favorites but then turns around and gives one grandchild a thousand dollars for Christmas, claiming it’s because, “Well, I can’t take it with me when I’m dead, might as well spend it on something cute now.” It’s a universal experience. And apparently, not even death—or undeath—exempts you from it.

For the past month, Danny's friends had been roasting him relentlessly over one singular fact: Clockwork spoils him rotten.

Danny, of course, denies it. Danny, ever the tired, oblivious little disaster of a ghost prince, insists Clockwork treats him like any other unfortunate intern-slash-trainee. If anything, he argues, Clockwork enjoys his suffering. After all, no spoiled child would be forced to sit through two-hour lectures on the political structure of the Realm of Screeching Mirrors or solve time-based equations that make mortal physics cry. And yet, somehow, every time he finishes school and is already dead tired—pun intended—he gets yeeted straight into another lesson about interdimensional algebra that makes even Jazz’s nerdy heart weep.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz just sit there and stare at him like he’s trying to convince them the sky isn’t blue. Even Dan, actual chaotic/ genocidal menace of the Ghost Zone, released on royal bail with a community service contract (a.k.a. babysitting duty), had the gall to grimace at the blatant favoritism. Ellie just nodded and made snide bets on how long it would take before Danny noticed Clockwork had been rigging his ghost-life like a doting stage mom.

It didn’t stop there either. Apparently, somewhere along the line, Pandora decided to become the wine aunt—but instead of wine and passive-aggressive casserole recipes, she sent weaponized care packages. Need a broadsword that sings show tunes when swung? Pandora’s got it. She once gave Danny a dagger made from the crystallized screams of vanquished tyrants. When asked why, she simply said, “To keep your mortals on their toes.”

Then there was Frostbite. Calm, collected, soothing Frostbite… who also happened to be the kind of uncle who would knit you a blanket and throw a car at anyone who made you cry. He’d once paused a global summit in the Far Frozen to deliver Danny a scarf because he “looked a bit chilly” during said meeting. The scarf was bulletproof. And sentient.

Everyone saw it. Everyone. The entire inner circle of Danny's life treated it like the worst-kept secret in all of ghostdom. Sam tried reasoning with him. Tucker built a PowerPoint. Jazz made pie charts, actual pie charts, trying to explain the psychological indicators of excessive grandparental attachment. Danny? Still blissfully in denial.

Which was funny, considering Clockwork literally paused time every night so Danny could get his eight hours. And occasionally twelve. Or fourteen. There were also the little notes left in Danny’s backpack: “Don’t forget your lunch, also destroy that wraith behind locker 307, it’s giving off bad vibes. Love, C.W.” Or, you know, when certain bullies AHEM GIW agents that are more on the violent and competent side AHEM mysteriously disappeared from time itself. Not dead, not missing, just never existed in the first place. Suspiciously convenient.

Still, Danny remained oblivious. Ranting about how Clockwork just gave him more work while his friends sat in the background, watching the temporal equivalent of a dad saying “I’m not mad, just disappointed” and rewriting history to give his grandson fewer childhood traumas.

Things only got worse when Phantom officially joined the Justice League Dark. The invitation had been pending for months. After all, there was only so long the League could ignore the literal child-shaped ghost who kept single-handedly neutralizing League-level threats in a small Midwest town like it was his weekend hobby. The Dark team, especially Constantine and Zatanna, had begrudgingly accepted him after witnessing him pull obscure banishment spells from memory, casually referencing ancient ghost kings as if he had lunch with them last week. (He probably did.)

Thanks to Phantom, the League Dark's solved-case rate skyrocketed. Not that Danny bragged about it. No, he just muttered quiet “thank-yous” to Clockwork for teaching him spells like “Ecto-Spatial Reversal via Reverse-Entropy” and “Don’t Touch That You Idiot, It Bites.”

Things were going smoothly—until a group of Green Lanterns arrived with bad news: a planet eater had been spotted in their quadrant. Immediate panic, of course. Superman went into overdrive, Batman did his usual dramatic scowl, and Phantom… winced.

Hard.

He doubled over slightly, one hand pressed to his core, face pale and wide-eyed. The room turned quiet as Danny muttered something garbled, a soft, vibrating cry that made Constantine drop his cigarette and Doctor Fate slowly turn his helmeted head.

What most of the League didn’t know—what even Danny barely acknowledged—was that as a newly ascended Ancient of Space (thanks, Ghost Zone promotions), he could feel his creations. And he had just started experimenting with creating baby planets for fun. Tiny, floating ball worlds full of pink sand, purple skies, and slow-beeping space whales. He’d named one of them “Steve.”

And now? Steve was gone.

That warbled noise he let out? Not pain. Not warning.

It was a cosmic tantrum.

And the moment he wailed, the pen sitting at the edge of the conference table froze in mid-air. Time literally stuttered. The League stood frozen. Until a massive, glowing portal sliced open behind Danny with the sound of a very irritated and blood thirsty grandfather clock chiming, who knew a grandfather clock can make such ominous chime.

Out came a giant ghost cloaked in deep violet robes, staff glowing ominously, red eyes glaring holes through the League. Every hero present snapped into defense mode—Superman rose into the air, Wonder Woman readied her lasso, Batman reached for seventeen gadgets at once.

And Phantom?

Phantom flung himself at the terrifying ghost like a toddler reunited with their favorite plushie after a week of laundry day. The tears started flowing as he began incoherently babbling about Steve and planet goo and how he worked really hard on making the gravity work this time, and now it’s gone, Grandpa, it’s gone!

Clockwork, for his part, gently patted Danny on the head and offered a soft “There, there. Let’s go home. I have cookies. And cocoa. With extra marshmallows.”

Danny nodded miserably, clutching his mentor like the universe had wronged him personally—which, in fairness, it kind of had. The two vanished into the portal, and just like that, time resumed. The pen hit the floor with a sharp clack.

The Justice League stared in stunned silence.

And then, just a beat too late, the Flash burst in with a stack of nachos, four Slurpees, and a hot dog sticking out of his hair.

Flash blinked at the scattered papers, frazzled League members, and the faint, lingering smell of cinnamon cookies. Batman said nothing. Constantine just lit another cigarette.

…..

The warmth in this new galaxy when icy cold like something felt a disturbance in it forced orbit, and the sudden feeling of being prey and dread continues on until Darkseid left that galaxy.

The feeling didn't go away as if eyes from the very unknown were staring down at him like he was a speck of ash floating in the universe.

Tagging for og prompter

mermaid!bruce leaving his babies on clarks boat while he goes out and hunts 🥺🥺

just imagining a little mermaid in clarks kitchenette going through his cabinets eating his cereal and clark like hi....can I help you...?? and the baby just. slapping it's tail on the ground like no im good

bruce coming back and seeing his baby passed out in a pile of candy wrappers and dorito bags: why!!!! did u let him eat all that disgusting human food >:O !!!!

clark: I didn't LET him do anything!!!!! hes got like five rows of teeth im not sticking my hand in his mouth hes very scary!!!

I’ve decided merfolk should be exceptionally long lived so that A) the kids stay kids for longer, and B) Kryptonian lifespan matching. Bruce still complains that his babies are growing up too fast

Also Jason never died here. His “autopsy” scar is from a vivisection

Now that we have discussed this: I would like you to imagine the first time after Rocky left for Tau Ceti that somebody has the gall to speak of Adrian and Not refer to them as “Rocky’s Adrian” when the context would make that the appropriate way to refer to them. Implying they’re available now.

Batman tells Gordon that he doesn't kill. Thinking that it's a legality issue, Gordon deputizes Batman and gives him a gun and badge. Batman of course doesn't use the gun and just figures Gordon is stressed.

After Joker kills a Robin, Gordon starts to deputize the Batfam members.

Gordon: Next time you see that clown. Take. The. Shot. Rookie.

Robin (Tim, tiny ass 14 year old holding a 45 magnum): Umm... Yes sir?

Batman (plus all the Rogues, minions, and citizens of Gotham when Robin shows up with a 45 Magnum):

1. The court holds Google responsible for statements made by its AI, considering them Google's statements (search engines have limited liability for results in their engine as they're the words of other sites/companies/people), meaning when their AI lies/hallucinates they're liable for the defamation/harm resulting from those statements.

2. Google's defense that customers are generally aware of the lack of reliability and are responsible for fact checking was dismissed. As the court pointed out, that would "significantly diminish" AI Search's stated purpose and it can't be distinguished from Google's business practices/statements as a search tool.

3. Studies have found about 91% of Google's everyday AI responses are accurate, leaving millions of searches per HOUR with potential liability for falsehoods. 56% of correct responses weren't supported by the sources the AI listed. Both of which mean Google is now liable for a LOT more AI "errors."

4. Google was held liable for 80% of court costs in this case and this precedent is expected to reverberate around the world. This is a massive shift from the 3rd-party search provider role Google has previously played and it comes right as they've tied ALL searches to their AI search.

Lancer, raised voice: SENSE AND SENSIBILITY! For the last time, we are NOT kidnapping the rogue and bringing him and and his wife home with us.

The entire class, sobbing and clinging to a BREATHTAKINGLY exasperated Lancer: But he's like a frostbitten Orpheus trying to save his Eurydice!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭

And the cops, Mr. Freeze, and the Bat vigilantes are just staring in growing confusion as the class continues to tearfully plead to take the rogue home like a stray cat or dog and promise to help take care of him and get him all the enrichment he needs.

Casper High pulls a fundraiser just so the class can afford to visit him. Arkham Asylum never had so many visitors at once, and certainly no teenagers that didn't so much as blink at the more colorful patients

In fact, they seem oddly at ease among the tables, helping insane criminals learn some arts and crafts. Even the Joker, who made more than one threatening comment, only caused a few chuckles from the teenagers. Though a lot of them did seem to reach for a green lipstick, placing the little tubes on the table within easy reach.

Everyone in Gotham was horrified, eyeing the class that boarded the rented-out bus with barely concealed fear and suspicion. Everyone was sure the twenty-something children would turn out to be horrible monsters, hell-bent on breaking the city apart, but no, they literally only went to visit the patients and left with a spring in their step and stopped for some fast food.

By nightfall, the bus had driven home, carrying with it the oddest group of people anyone has ever seen. And this was people from Gotham talking.

Amity Park must be bad

Dr. Victor is surprised to find that the teenagers hold regular fundraisers and have started online donation pages to try to help him raise money for his wife's cancer research. They're such good kids.

The villains of Gotham all swear that they would never harm those kids, and Bruce suddenly has a list of potential scholarship winners who could work around the city and become a means to protect the rest of Gotham from attacks.

Princess: an effeminate and relatively youthful male homosexual or lesbian (1931-4)

Daffodil: effeminate young man (1925)

To throw a fuck into: to have sex with (1919)

Top sergeant: a masculine lesbian (1939) [‘she takes command of the girls’ privates’]

Lily: penis (1919)

Wolf: sexually aggressive man (1847); a homosexual top (1918)

Soul kiss: a deep kiss, involving putting one’s tongue into one’s partner’s mouth (1907)

Tom: a lesbian (1909); [in 'old tom'] prostitute catering to lesbians (1966)

Church mouse: a male homosexual who frequents crowded churches in order to fondle any potential sex partners. (1941)

Discover one's gender: to accept or acknowledge one’s homosexuality (1941) / Lose one's gender: To return to living as a heterosexual

Minty: a masculine lesbian (1941)

Also a lot of early 20th century vulgarity is recorded in Letter from My Father, which is a collection of letters published by a man who's dad was, in short, a major slut and human disaster who wrote about his sex life for his son. It's insane. You can find copies of it online & it's a wild fucking read (literally!) and I think a really interesting look at the life of a person who goes against our stereotypes of what people in the past were "supposed" to be like.

note for writers: these are dated to the first time they were recorded, not necessarily to their first use. I imagine for many of these, they came about naturally through spoken language before they were written down anywhere. This is especially true of more underground slang because it's probably being recorded (in ways we still have) the least. So if you wanna use a term but it's a little off date-wise, give yourself some wiggle room.

also gonna take this moment to highlight two more i found recently:

Best boy: a sweetheart, a boyfriend, a husband. (1893) [w the obvious equivalent term 'best girl']

Honeydripper or honeydrips: a sexual partner (1917)

SHE NEVER QUITS!!!!

> Elisabeth Bik is on patreon <

Dpxdc

Danny’s ghost form had changed a lot since he was 14. He had become the Ghost King—the ruler of gods, the eternal protector, the favorite of Time, the savior of the infinite, and so on. As a result, he ended up looking like a mix between a god, an angel, a fae, and an elf. Outwardly, he was stunning. Though he could still appear normal, he inevitably gave off an aura (not a visible one) of pure goodness—like a being who could do no harm.

This greatly helped his relationship with the people of Amity Park, but it made things incredibly awkward when he was summoned by the Justice League in his Ghost King form for the peace treaty. It felt like he was scamming them just by showing up.

Fright Knight: Looks down.

Fright Knight: A pile of photos?

Danny: No. The child. THE CHILD!

Tim: He's my new caretaker.

Fright Knight: Nodding

Danny:

Pariah Dark: Calmly walks into house

Danny:

Billy: Waves

Danny: Father what the fuck-

Pariah Dark: He looked hungry, and without a guardian.

Long after defeating Pariah, Danny realises something. He’s been getting stronger. It’s become harder to control his powers. God, it’s even harder to stay in one form, always flickering.

The truth? After putting Pariah Dark back in his box, he started to siphon his powers. He’s not the ghost king, Pariah is. Not by power or blood but by name. It’s an empty title.

So now the ancients feel comfortable letting him free, and wouldn’t you know it, they need someone to watch him. A babysitter to keep him from going evil again.

Sure you can have a little power back, if you do your paperwork. Of course you can have some power back to fight these little shits trying to destroy the veil, but you can’t keep it.

It’s so fun for him. Danny that is.

Except now Pariah’s been summoned for the first time in years, since the news that he’s out and about got released.

—

“I must apologise, I am not allowed to use my power without my… advisors permission.” he says calmly, folding his hands in front him. Pariah can see the way the heroes shift, the summoners anger boils but does not flow. What a pity.

“What kind of king needs a babysitter?” One of them asks so rudely. He can partially anger getting closer. Get angry. Get angry so I can justify killling you.

“The kind that likes to causes the extinction of entire species for fun.” Ah. There he is. In all his horrifying(to mortals) glory. “Hi, yes, Pariah? I must thank you for your patience. When we get home you can have an hour of partial power.”

Mostly just food for thought

But Danny’s powers in human form is Intangibility, Invisibility, and Flight.

Danny’s powers in Ghost form is Tangibility, Visibility, and being able to be solid enough to stand on the fucking ground. But gravity is still weird and hard. Y’all should be impressed when he walks Damnit. It’s, like, really complicated.

All the Living are really impressed when he shoots ice or punches someone through a building (gravity is suggestible, it’s not really a strength thing). Meanwhile all the Dead drop their jaws when he stands on the ground and then puts one foot in front of the other and the feet never sink through the floor, even a little, and he never loses his balance keeping his body on top of his weird bipedal leg projections.