#worm shit

[wouas]

Beasts - 19x15 cm paper, ballpoint pen

[zhelin-thames]

A Ghostly Text Mishap

Danny flopped onto his bed, phone in hand, glaring at the screen. Another long day of dealing with Vlad's manipulative nonsense had left him frustrated beyond belief. He opened his messages, found the contact labeled Trucker, and began furiously typing.

Danny: You will NOT believe what Plasmius did this time. The absolute NERVE of this guy. You’d think being half-dead would make someone LESS petty, but nooo, this man’s ego is bigger than the Ghost Zone.

Danny: He tried to "buy" my parents' company AGAIN. He offered to “help” with ghost containment tech but really just wants to snoop around for weaknesses in the portal.

Danny: AND he had the audacity to call me “Little Badger” like it’s a term of endearment. I swear, if I hear that ONE MORE TIME, I might go full ghost and dropkick him into the Fenton Thermos.

Satisfied with his venting, Danny tossed his phone onto the bed and buried his face in his pillow. Unbeknownst to him, he had made one critical mistake.

Jason Todd, aka Red Hood, was sitting in his safe house, polishing his guns when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.

Unknown Number: You will NOT believe what Plasmius did this time…

Jason raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is this?” he muttered, scrolling through the tirade. By the time he got to “Little Badger”, he was smirking.

He typed back:

Jason: Kid, I think you’ve got the wrong number. Unless this “Plasmius” guy is a Gotham villain I’ve somehow missed.

Danny’s phone buzzed, and he rolled over to check it. His heart dropped when he saw the reply.

Danny: Oh no. This isn’t Trucker, is it?

Jason: Nope. But you’ve got my attention. Who’s Plasmius, and why does he sound like the type of guy I’d shoot on principle?

Danny hesitated, then decided to just roll with it.

Danny: Short version: he’s a half-ghost fruitloop billionaire who’s obsessed with ruining my life, becoming my creepy stepdad, and taking over the world. Think Lex Luthor but undead and ickier.

Jason burst out laughing, earning a curious glance from Roy Harper, who had just walked in.

“Who’s got you laughing like that?” Roy asked, setting down a bag of takeout.

“Some kid who texted me by mistake,” Jason replied, showing him the messages.

Roy skimmed them and snickered. “Plasmius? Sounds like a knockoff vampire villain.”

Jason’s fingers flew over the keyboard.

Jason: Okay, kid, you’ve officially got my interest. I don’t know who you are, but if this Plasmius guy’s half as bad as you say, I’ve got some creative ways to deal with him. You in Gotham?

Danny stared at the message, blinking. Who even was this guy? But... he did sound like he knew how to handle problems.

Danny: Uh, no. I’m from Amity Park. It’s kind of a supernatural hotspot, so I’ve got it covered. But thanks for the offer, I guess?

Jason smirked.

Jason: Supernatural hotspot? Kid, you’re talking to someone who’s been resurrected. Ghosts don’t scare me.

Danny froze. Resurrected? Oh no. This guy might actually know about the supernatural.

Danny: ...Wait, who ARE you?

Jason: Name’s Jason. Most people call me Red Hood. Ever heard of me?

Danny blinked, then groaned. “Of course. I text a vigilante. Just my luck.”

Danny: ...Yeah, I’ve heard of you. So, uh, thanks for not tracking this number and showing up at my house or something.

Jason: Yet.

Danny felt a shiver run down his spine.

Danny: That’s not funny, dude.

Jason: Relax, Little Badger. Your secret’s safe with me. For now. But hey, if you ever need help dealing with your undead billionaire problem, hit me up.

Danny sighed, shaking his head.

Danny: Sure. Thanks, I guess?

Jason leaned back, grinning as he saved the number under Ghost Kid.

“Roy, I think I just found the weirdest contact in my phone.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Roy replied, tossing Jason a burger.

“Not bad. Just… different.” Jason chuckled. “Plasmius, huh? Sounds like fun.”

[pangur-and-grim]

[wormdebut]

So stick with me here.

Steve and Robin minding their damn business at a diner. Steve’s got his hair all slicked back and pretty like it usually is, he’s got a preppy little jacket on and is literally just existing but an angry little alternative guy comes marching up to their booth.

Because see, Steve is wearing a very old shirt of his boyfriend’s very successful band, Corroded Coffin. Simply because he likes it, and Eddie is on tour so he left it at home with Steve, because he’s fucking sweet like that.

But anyway, angry alternative bro comes marching up saying, “I bet you don’t even know Corroded Coffin. Name three songs.”

Steve is shocked actually because CC’s fans are usually pretty fucking chill and also very aware of Steve, but he can’t help but laugh at Robins eyes going wide at the question. She goes to speak and Steve cuts her off, looking at the guy.

“This is my boyfriend’s shirt actually. I could FaceTime him and see if he could name three?”

[swervesbar]

It's tough being a Paris Hilton in a house full of Kardashians😔

[midnigtartist]

Hey. Fuck the Ansur fight?

[wanologic]

#besties

[hellsitegenetics]

would you perhaps do the Danny Phantom opening theme?

https://dannyphantom.fandom.com/wiki/Danny_Phantom_Opening

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(image source)

[7nuh]

I HC Scarletella is smart enough to figure out MC's language and I'm currently brainrotting over an AU wherein he attempts to adapt a normal, human life. As normal as he can pretend to be, though, while getting closer to you. MC is a completely unassuming person by day and a serial killer by night who is freaked out by this random tall and mute redhead suddenly appearing in the oddest places. Simple coincidence doesn't explain any of it anymore. MC starts seriously considering murdering him too lest he foil their secret hobby, only to realize he may just be as fucked up as them...

[creatureimages]

double wourm day yesterday. the mountain abounds with them

[sweeneydino]

Almost killed family 2.0 ✌️

Bane of his existence…. Get it?

[iteratorsex]

void worms and iterators knew about each other they could be friends. and they could hate on the guardians together

[zhelin-thames]

Wrong Number texts #1

Danny: So then Skulker decides the best way to catch me is by building a giant robot suit. But he forgot to calibrate it for the Ghost Zone’s gravity, so it immediately toppled over and crushed his entire lair. Absolute genius, right?

Jason: I’m torn between laughing and feeling secondhand embarrassment for him. Do all your villains suck this much?

Danny: Hey, I don’t pick my rogues’ gallery. But yeah, most of them are either weird, incompetent, or trying way too hard. Vlad’s the only real threat, and that’s just because he cheats.

Jason: Billionaires always cheat. It’s in their DNA.

Masterpost

[parallelpie]

First off this absolutely cursed AU was inspired by Lemonomelette and a post they made -X Secondly I imagine it all being about bots and cons trying to one up each others factions and not actually helping in any serious way because their too busy with their own faction bs.

Think of two rival car dealerships across the street one upping each other to get business and instead of business with cars its interstellar robot fairys trying to woo sm children to let them grant their inconsequential wishes (which may or may not be worth it) instead of the other guy next door.

[wormdebut]

This interaction has been in my head for a while.

——

Steve Harrington was pissed. Livid, even.

All he had wanted was an adult beverage after a long ass day at work, which he certainly got. The whiskey sours were fucking great actually. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the model of a bartender.

This guy was—Shit.

Tall as hell, and lean, but his arms boasted enough corded muscle that Steve couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of him looked like.

Damn, horny brain.

This guy had a riot of curls stacked on his head in a bun, which had been another nail in the proverbial horny coffin. He had chocolate brown eyes and fucking plush lips that boasted a lip ring. A lip ring.

How was Steve supposed to remain sane under these circumstances.

Robin couldn’t come out tonight so Steve was alone and just—watching this hot ass bartender work. God, he was such a creep. But this guy was so—suave, laughing with patrons, acting like he owns the place—it was some type of dive bar, plastered with tour posters and framed photos and musicians. Guitars hung on the walls.

The guy—Eddie—his name tag read, had on ripped black jeans, tattoos covered his arms and neck—Steve wanted to see where else they were hiding—his nails were painted black and he had on a faded Metallica shirt that sat tight across his lithe frame.

God—he probably did own this place. Steve really just stopped at the first place he could find, on his way back into town from a meeting. Congratulations to him for making a great fucking choice.

Steve was being a creep, watching this guy interact with someone, when he turned his attention on Steve himself. Eddie flashed his a smile—Christ, even his teeth were fucking pretty.

“Can I top you off, sweetheart?” Eddie purrs.

God, you can just top me—Steve thinks. He watches as Eddie quirks an eyes brow, before he schools his expression, flashing Steve a simmering smile.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, big boy.”

Steve’s eyes go wide. He said that out loud didn’t he.

[home-of-the-squirmle]

Hey. Pocket Silco getting tickled by Vander. Okay? Okay