Herg

'ao3 needs a like and dislike button'

what you need, my algorithm-rotten minded friend, is a grip

*has no affect on anyone on this site*

bruh finally

Justice League Audit

The Flash honestly didn't know what to think about their current situation as the prime members of the Justice League, their biggest hitters, were just yanked from their homes and put into costume in a courtroom. A young man with white hair was halfway into a briefcase, legitimately halfway up to his waist in the briefcase, who pulls himself from it with multiple stacks of papers. "Good Evening, Justice League, or morning depending on when you came from. My name is Daniel but please call me Danny and I have been appointed to your case for simply the severity of the case."

"Severity? What are we being charged with," Batman grunts as he studies the room and the man.

"Charged? No no, you're not being charged with anything just yet if at all. I should specify why I'm here. My name is Danny and I head a recent addition of the Multiverse Auditing of Space and Time."

"MAST," Flash says in deadpan.

"An Audit," Batman's voice drops in tone, "Auditing us for what?"

"Excellent question, Mister... Batman," Danny says has he looks over his papers. "At MAST we monitor and maintain the spatial and temporal curve which is affected by choices made by the inhabitants of this dimension. This including but not limited to unsanctioned time travel, planetary destruction on a massive scale, large scale mental manipulation, cosmic entity manipulation, cosmic entity death, manipulation of the balance of life and death, supernatural tax evasion, unpaid child support and abandonment of duties in all forms."

Flash pulls on his collar uncomfortably as Danny mentions time travel, Batman ignores him as he continues, "And if this audit shows that we are in need of charging? What then?"

"It all depends on what is being charged but majority of them can simply be nullified by undoing what was done; paying your child support, making good on your deals and agreeing to exchange a number of your years as compensation for the death of the entity in question. In the event these terms cannot or will not be agreed to then the being in question will be black-marked as persona non grata and will be garnished for the rest of their natural life."

"That... seems rather lenient," Superman states as he's thinking over what was said.

"What is being garnished and what is persona non grata mean on a multiverse standpoint?"

"Until the black-marked individual reconciles their debt with MAST, no afterlife will accept them, no supernatural entity will make a deal with them, loss of any power used in the charge that gained them the black-mark."

He picks up a red folder and takes a seat on one side of the desk, "Now, Mister Flash, while you're not the most heavily audited on todays list you had unfortunately put more stress on one of our employees at MAST. I have here that you're being accused of 186 counts of unsanctioned time travel."

"186?!"

"BARRY!"

"What the crap?!"

Here’s my favorite panel from my kylux comic Armistice ♡

Thank you to everyone who got the comic so far and thanks so much for your tips!!! I’m 34 downloads away from hitting 1000 downloads on gumroad, WOW. This is more than I ever thought I’ll get! If you’re interested, you can get the Comic here for free https://gumroad.com/queenstardust

how do we feel about bruce in a black/dark gray turtleneck? (<- req, if you take, btw)

You know I love Bruce in a dark turtleneck. Absolutely eats. No notes

And I've drawn it before but here's another

I think it’s funny to think that whenever Jason shows up to ANYTHING with a duffle bag the batfamily and co think there could be decapitated heads inside:

Dick: whatcha got there Jason?

Jason: my luggage for the mission??

Dick:

Jason:

Dick:

Jason: HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU GUYS THERE AREN’T HEADS IN HERE

Dick: THERES ALWAYS THE POSSIBILITY

Jason: I HAVEN’T KILLED ANYONE IN MONTHS

Dick: THAT WE KNOW OF

I imagine that then the Justice League becomes weary of Jason with duffle bags due to the bats. So the outlaws could be helping with a mission and:

Superman: Hood if it’s alright we’d like to search your bag?

Red Hood: there’s just my gear inside

Superman: we just want to double check it is your gear…

Red Hood:

Red Hood: not you guys too

Red Hood: THERE AREN’T ANY DECAPITATED HEADS INSIDE

Arsenal: at this point you should just put heads in there.

Red Hood: I’m not trying to get back on the Justice Leagues Wanted list Roy

fun new executive dysfunction hack that might work for you? I've started to narrate my actions in my mind as though i were the subject of an anthropological documentary. I'm taking down xmas decorations right now and the narrator in my head (who is british and posh. obviously.) is like:

"despite the atheistic spiritual beliefs of the family, the christian holiday known as 'christmas' is an important cultural event. So important in fact, that decorations remain on full display a full month after the religious ceremony itself. Now, on the 3rd of February, a full day of labour has been designated to the exodus of all christmas related pageantry. The eldest daughter of the family takes on the bulk of the work, performed in silence, and with great focus."

and hot damn if it isn't working

Bruce is in...an unfortunate circumstance. So is everyone else. He can honestly say he has no idea what is going on, and judging from the barely suppressed rage, confusion, and hostility, neither does anyone else at the table.

He's sitting at the head of a table in Wayne Manor, which definitely does not exist anymore and is glowing a strange green. At the table are Damian, Jason, Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and a random teenager he does not know.

Alfred, who has been dead for years, is serving them food that is...glowing slightly green. Just like the house.

Everyone is being courteous, and it...it seems like someone is controlling their words? Their actions as well. They can only speak in rhyme, and they are being forced to play as one big happy family.

He can see, in everyone's eyes, that no one remembers how they got here.

Even Alfred, glowing blue skin and luminescent green eyes, seems to not be in control of his actions.

The strange teen at the other end of the table is getting more and more panicked with every glowing green delicacy placed before them, muscles tensing and straining as he visibly tries to break free with brute force alone.

Bruce knows, as does everyone else at the table, that to eat those foods is...bad. He doesn't know how, exactly, but it appears that no one should eat them.

A flicker of someone, no, three someones dart past the door. One of those people wears an armored outfit, and pauses long enough to appear to do a quick assessment of the unknown teenager at the table; so another hero, or at least someone invested in keeping the boy alive. If they have enough time, they might be able to undo this.

He needs to delay.

He cannot let any one at this table, including that random boy, eat any of this food.

Whoever is doing this wants them to play as a typical family unit. He is only allowed to say or do things that would typically fall into that category.

Alfred sets down the last plate, movement stiff and jerky as he tries to do it as slowly as possible, and Bruce feels his hands stray towards the utensils on the table.

He redirects them to brace against it and stand himself up.

"A toast is required, to welcome new kin, for we never grow tired of taking them in," Bruce says, lifting a glass of...something. Green and glowing, as is everything else.

Toxic.

Thankfully, the makeshift toast seems to work; no one moves to eat the contaminated feast.

But he feels himself start to sit down again.

Jason's hands are shaking, tiny wheezes slipping past his lips as he fights against them moving back towards the fork and knife. Tim, concerningly in contrast, appears fully prepared to eat whatever this is. Even...eager?

Bruce really hopes he's reading that one wrong.

When they escape, and they will because he will not accept anything less, he really needs to have a conversation with him.

"In truth there are no secrets here, and I must divulge some I fear," Bruce almost shouts, knees popping back into a standing position so fast it triggers a spasm of pain in his back. That wasn't what he meant to say.

He can feel himself being compelled to speak the worst truth he could possible give, and instinctively fights against it.

In response to the struggling, Damian's hand reaches out, tendons flexing in full view as he fights against it, and a finger dips into what is supposed to be some sort of gravy.

He cannot be doing this.

Dick's hand gracefully snags a glowing green dinner roll, his eyes steely as it's brought towards his mouth.

He cannot.

Duke sounds like he's about to hyperventilate, fingers trembling and dropping the glowing pig-in-a-blanket, forced to pick it up every time it drops.

At the opposite end of the table, the unknown boy actually manages to let out a soft, muffled shout, jerking forward before the magic that bewitches them all forces him back into compliance.

...He must. He must, lest he not only watch his children die in front of him, again, but watch them all do it at the same time.

Bruce closes his eyes.

A hand rests on his shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze.

The only comfort this strange residue of Alfred can give him.

"We are no mere family; we are the knights that hide in the dark, verily I do speak more gravely while chasing crime like a shark."

There are sounds of combat, things breaking and people shouting, laser pistols, or a variant thereof, firing.

The compulsion is stronger, and he knows that if he tries to resist it even a little bit, Duke, Damian, and Dick are all dead.

Damn it.

"For I am Batman, of Gotham proud, alone I began, but now have a crowd."

He is forced to sit down again, and the sounds of fighting ease off.

Damn it. Damn it! They failed!

But the boy at the head of the table stands, sweaty and desperate.

"For telling me this, I feel I must up the ante; I cannot dismiss that I'm also a vigilante. My name is Phantom, and I really love oranges....."

The boy stops talking, mouth open as whoever controls them tries to find a followup.

But.

Nothing, traditionally, rhymes with orange in such a way that it shares the last part of that word.

The air seems to stretch.

The table holds their breath.

...The air snaps.

"Not again!" Someone shouts from where the fighting was, "Stop doing that!"

Or; Ghostwriter wanted to fuck with Danny, by forcing him to play house with one of the wealthy elite and torment him with stupid rich people bullshit. He even used the lair of the ghost of their old Butler, Alfred, since it was an exact replica of Wayne Manor. Sure, if humans eat food that's made of pure ectoplasm straight from the Zone they can't ever leave it, but like, they can just stay with their butler. Ghostwriter just needs to make sure that Danny can't talk, because if the little shit talks, he'll use the orange trick again. He did not anticipate that; Bruce Wayne is Batman, Red Huntress would try to beat the snot out of him with the help of a goth and a technonerd, or that Bruce Wayne would manage to give Danny the perfect opportunity to open his big fat mouth and ruin Ghostwriter's fun.

people who don't wear glasses are so weird like you just wake up and your eyes are pussy fresh??

Dc x Dp prompt #13: Hell to Pay

They say there are only two things certain in life: death and taxes. That’s why even the Joker doesn’t fuck with the IRS.

However, unfortunately for the Joker the other certainty is death and he has yet to pay his dues. Just like how he could only get away with tax evasion for so long, there are only so many times the Joker can dodge death.

Death is coming to collect, with interest.

And the Joker will have hell to pay.

~ A dark green cloud swirls over the city. From it, emerge three oppressive figures:

The one on the far left with flowing hair like white-hot fire. His vambraces made of (what appeared to be) molten glass stopped under his fingers, which then extend into into claws that seemed to drip lava. He had spiked obsidian pauldrons on his shoulders, fastening a luminous, stark-white cape to his shoulders. He wore a coronet of lightning and wielded a flail that appeared to be made of coal chains and a shrunken Red Giant star.

The second on the far right had a helm of dark iron wreathed in a plume of purple flame. His gauntlets and sword flamed with green hellfire. A pure black sheath seemingly made of void and a silver hunting horn were tied to his waist. He wore an armor forged of shadows and proofed with fear. He rode atop a mighty stead. An inky dark stallion with a curved horn and bat-like wings. His form was constantly slightly shifting depending on the angle which viewed him making him appear larger and more slippery than he was, enhancing his disquieting nature.

The third stood in the middle, smaller but no less terrifying than her companions. Her hair was wild with movement, only just visible because it appeared as if someone had bound the winds to her head. She wore a tiara made of storm clouds and pearls. She carried with her a spear, the shaft crafted of amazonite and the tip of a clear quartz, almost reminiscent of sea salt. At her hip lay a whip made of a restrained gale and a sea glass knife. She wore armor that appeared to be Greco-Roman in origin: a chest plate made of some sort of coral-like material and a battle skirt decorated with metallic bronze feathers.

They slowly descent on the city, bringing down a sense of power and dread. They paused at the top of Wayne Tower, where the city's vigilantes had all gathered in an attempt to create and feasible plan of action to discern what these beings want. The young woman in the middle speaks and the wind carries her voice. She is not loud but it the whole of Gotham hears her words.

"Greetings, Heroes of Gotham. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Spirit, Princess and Head Diplomat of the Infinite Realms. This is Samhain, the Fright Knight, loyal knight to the king,” she gestured to her right before switching to her left “and this is Prince Wraith, current General in Chief of the Realms. We come to you as the King’s Guard and entourage. We have official business in your city and wish to civilly notify you of our presence. The King will be arriving shortly and your cooperation would be great fully received.”

Batman moved forward to shake her hand and address the situation.

“I’m afraid that we prefer not to have unknowns operating within the city. Would you be able to tell us what business you have here? Perhaps we could reach an agreement?” Batman tried to negotiate as politely as he could. He did not want to risk offending the evidently powerful beings.

Princess Spirit’s smile sharpened as she thrummed her finger against her knife. She spoke again with an unnervingly pleasant tone.

“It appears you do not understand. We are not asking for your permission.” Her grip around his hand tightened. “ We are informing you.” She finished releasing his hand.

Batman withdrew his aching hand and regarded her with the beginnings of a protest on his lips. She didn’t allow him to speak.

“ This is out of your jurisdiction Batman. This is a matter of the Realms and the Afterlife. Whatever worldly rules or morals you wish to impose on those who enter this city do not apply to us. We will do our best to work within them, so as to appease you and to attempt to maintain a friendly relationship but in the macrocosm of the multiverse and afterlives you have no official power over us. Additionally, we have direct permission to operate here however we see fit from the City Spirit herself, Lady Gotham.”

Batman’s shadow seemed to fluctuated. His and his teams shadows moved from beneath them, closer to the Princess. Lady Gotham, though not manifesting. Was making her presence and approval known. Batman could not deny what he was seeing. His team shifted uncomfortably behind him. He appealed to her once more.

“ I see that we can’t stop you. We don’t want to get in your way either. Could you at least tell us why you are here?”

She smiled as if telling a joke, “All will be revealed in time”

Suddenly, there was a loud noise that sounded like tearing fabric. The green clouds mixed with purples and blues and began to churn faster. The cyclone emitted a flashes of bright light. In unison all three of the King’s Guard lifted up from the roof and took place underneath the eye of the wind storm.

Spirit holds her spear aloft. With one swift, commanding move she slams the butt of her spear down, creating a platform out of solidified air.

Wraith bellows out smoke and ash onto the platform to discolor it. With ferocious and precise movements his claws to carve in a sigil, leaving a soft orange glow against the black and gray.

Samhain sheathes his sword and pulls his horn from his waist. He wills his dark stead to rear up as he blows the horn, letting out one loud prolonged cry.

The three warriors stand at attention and Princess Spirit calls the winds to project her voice once more.

“ Now introducing the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, High King of the In-Between, The Great One, The Benevolent King, The Peace Maker, The Guardian of Souls, The One with the Cloak of Stars and the Crown of Frozen Light, The Perfect Balance, Ancient of Space and Reality, The Infinite King: Phantom!”

With a flash of white light a figure appear in the center of the platform. Simultaneously, the three knights bow in reverence.

The King has arrived.

As the Heroes of Gotham regain clear vision they are met with a striking figure.

There stood a toned young man appearing both boyishly young, yet wisened and weathered. He had side swept hair the creeped to the bottom of his neck. His skin was pale with an icy blue tint. He opened his eyes to reveal they shone an electric green. Upon his head rest a crown made of a crystalline material, reminiscent of an aurora. He wore a navy blue cloak that had a rich purple hood lined with stark white fur. The underside displayed a shifting galaxy pattern. His under suit was the same midnight black as Samhain’s. He donned golden arm bands and a gold chest plate in style quite similar to Spirit’s. His hand were covered in snow white gauntlets that matched Wraith’s vambraces.

They all stood in awe, beholden to the almost divine figure.

The king sent them a gentle smile. It was warm and comforting yet sent a chill down their shoulders.

King Phantom began to fly down toward the center of the city, his entourage fell into step behind him. He hovered several hundred feet over Wayne tower and looked down at the city. He then spoke in a booming voice, his tone kind but commanding.

“ I humbly greet the Lady Gotham, her champions, and her citizens,” the shadows curled toward him appreciatively. “ I am grateful for your cooperation in our effort to rectify a great injustice. As High King of the Infinite Realms it is one of my duties to preside over the afterlife. To bring guidance, peace, and justice to the souls under my jurisdiction. Recently, it has been brought to my attention that there is a soul among you who has not only dodged death, but caused great strife to a vast number of souls who call for justice.”

On the roof of Wayne Enterprises Jason and Damian both stiffen, but remain firm in their gaze toward the king. The king looks out at the city and sparing them the quickest of glances. He continues onward.

“ The man formerly know as Jack Napier, now called The Joker. He has avoided death on many an occasion but his life should have ended moment he fell into a vat of chemicals. Since then he has sent hundreds more to the afterlife. He has long yet to pay his dues. That is why on the behalf of justice, restoring balance, and of my subjects I officially condemn Jack Napier.”

“Jack Napier, you have been allowed 24 hours turn yourself into our custody in order to be put on trial for your crimes in the Infinite Realms. Should you fail to turn youself in, we shall take that as an admission of guilt and acceptance to be punished for your actions. After the 24 hours are up, Samhain shall use his horn to summon The Hunt and we shall track you down.”

His gaze passed specifically over Red Hood, one of the Oracle’s drones, Nightwing, Signal, Red Robin, and Batman before he spoke his next words.

“All those souls who have been wronged by the Joker, both living and deceased, who wish to have a hand in their justice have been invited to join The Hunt if they so choose.”

The king lifted his hand, calling the swirling green clouds to his gather in his palm. The clouds swiftly rearranged themselves into a smokey timer hanging in the sky.

An impish smirk graced King Phantom’s face as he let out a malicious laugh and gave his final decree.

“ Your time begins now!”