#it was not in bart's favor!!

[dcviated]

time to loot :: open

send “Treasure Chest Opened! You Acquired _____” along with an item my muse would obtain by opening a secret treasure chest.

@darksails sent a trap: Treasure Chest Opened! Malkuth acquires a strangely specific wig with bangs that somehow matches her exact hair color! Wow! ( Beneath that, however, is the real prize: a coupon for any establishment of her liking that a pirate will pay for as a gift. ;'D )

"A TREASURE CHEST LIKE THE MOVIES?" Like any energetic young lady, throwing it open is hoped to yield countless gold doubloons or other nonsense. Heck. Even if they were chocolate? That'd be a huge victory all its own.

Instead, there's a buncha hair down in there? For a split second Malkuth had half a mind to think there was a corpse! Like if she plucked it out there'd be a skull or something. Not. Fortunately. But one can't help but notice the striking similarity.

"....Ueh? But why do I need a wig that matches my hair? What's the point here. Huh. Well... guess I can hold onto it." Oh no! It would seem that the Kuranta was not quite keen on the special make of this wonderful piece. What she does notice is the coupon! Which she picks up with renewed glee and excitement.

"FOOD FROM ANYWHERE I WANT? A FREE MEAL? THATS EVEN BETTER THAN A CRATE OF CHOCOLATES! Oh my gosh. Yay! I know just the pirate who I can redeem it with, too~!!!"

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Someone please tell me where its remotely in character for Captain Boomerang, who like the rest of the Rogues is on good terms with the Flash, to piss on The Flash's/Barry Allen's corpse in Kill The Suicide Squad, because apparently according to people defending this game till their last breath, its in character because 'they evil!'

[junespriince]

2am me is a fucking comedian pfft

[butyoudowanttowrestle]

SHE BUILT UP HIS BUSINESS FOR HIM AFTER MOVING TO A TOWN HE LIKED AND SHE HATED AND HES STILL CHEATING ON HER????

[dcxdpdabbles]

John Constantine doesn't usually like to get involve with beings from the Infinite Realms. They are too chaotic to predict most of the time, makes it harder to trick them. But there is one contact Constantine has and that is Ember. Constantine knew Ember as a human, when he was in his punk rock band Mucous Membrane. They had some good memories together before both their lives went to shit. The only thing Ember asks in return for her help is that Constantine has to play a set with her. No one in the JL or JLD know about this until Constantine has to pull out his Ember card.

"I know someone who can help." John's voice rises over the chatter of multiple conversations, effectively silencing everyone. As one, the group of volunteer defenders- not heroes, John refuses to label this lot as heroic when most of them agree with the crazy shit the governments around the world get away with- turn to stare at him.

He smiles lazily, uncaring of the hundred pairs of eyes that run over his body. A few of the costume-wearing vigilantes grimace when they catch sight of who's spoken, but John recognizes that some of the lingering looks are appreciative, so he peens just a little.

He's a handsome one, he knows, but it's nice to be reminded.

"You know someone who can help?" Zatanna repeat though her words are edged with doubt. It would have been hurtful, but they were in the middle of an "off" of their on-and-off relationship, so it's no surprise. "Someone who could help stop a black hole from sucking in the earth?"

"It's not really a black hole, is it?" He counters, waving his hand at the screen, which is still flashing red and displays the word 'Emergency' across it. The three speesters —Barry, Wally, and Bart —were running around it, attempting to slow down the formation with their own vacuum, but they wouldn't be able to keep it up forever. "More of a portal made of dark matter that some loony scientist ripped open because his wife left him, isn't it?"

"No." Hal breathes heavily, looking utterly horrified from behind his mask. "That's not how dark matter works-"

"Yeah, so we need someone dead enough they can go in and stabilize it, but alive enough that they can use Batman's machine, yeah?" John cuts off the pilot. He's not in the mood to listen to a sky bus driver re-explain everything that Batman just said (though to be honest, John did tone him out). "I know a ghost who can help."

"A ghost," Bruce repeats, his voice steady. That's what he always liked about the detective. No matter what came out of John's mouth, the man always took it in stride and somehow managed to look in control and steady.

That made him so fit that John often fantasizes about breaking Bruce's careful control. He sends the man a flirty little grin, but Bruce doesn't so much as blink. "I thought ghosts weren't able to interact with the physical world."

"They're not usually able to." Zatanna scowls, looking upset. She crosses her arms, sending John a narrow eye and an accusatory glare. He thinks it's unwarranted since she was the one who asked for their relationship to end. He's allowed to flirt with Bruce, come on, it's Batman. "Not unless that ghost has a contact with a living or found some place so drenched in ectoplasm it may as well be on the other side."

"What kind of contract?" Clark questions. John wiggles his eyebrows back at the Kypotian suggestively and has to bite back a grin at the blush that rises on the man's cheeks.

What an innocent little farm boy.

"The sexy kind," John declares smugly, just to make Clark flush darker. It's hilarious when he succeeds. " I'm joking! Ha, no, it's more like a favor between two friends. Ember and I go way back. I knew her in life-"

"That's dangerous!" Zatanna snaps seemingly at her wits' end. "You shouldn't be messing with spirits you knew in life. They tend to get corrupted!"

"Meh, Ember has always been corrupted," John shrugs, not caring that his ex's eyes go wide with horror. "We grew up together. We were even the original members of our own band before her Pa got a new job in America, and he moved the whole family across the pond. She got bullied bad by the stupid rich kids over here until a fire took her life. Her soul came back home to jolly old England, not even an hour after her death. I found her drumming on her guitar in our old hideaway, glowing and flouting. It's actually how I found out I had magic. Anyway, Ember made a pact to always be my friend before she flew into the sunset- and I mean that literally, a natural portal opened up into the Realms. She sent postcards."

"She can help?" Bruce cuts in, obviously trying to get John back on track. At the magic user's nod, the man seems to settle, uncoiling his muscles. It's gratifying that someone on Batman's level trusts John's expertise so much. Say what you will, but Bruce never doubts his comrades' abilities. "Good. Call her."

John grins, pressing his hand against his mouth and blowing out a kiss. "Ladies, Gents and Gits, are you ready to rock!?"

A woman's voice screams back, "Yeah!" causing a few people to jump

"I can't hear you!"

"Yeah!"

"I'm Johnny Con-Job on mic and this fine piece of arse is Ember! Listen to those strings~!" John screams, mimicking a mic while a fast past air guitar riff rips through the air. The noise is coming from everywhere and nowhere, leaving the many volunteer defenders to twist and turn, trying to pinpoint its origin.

Ember burst into the scene, her flaming hair whipping around her whole body as her means of travel before shrinking back onto her head. She's playing fast, angry, and grinning like a devil.

Someone in the crowd lets out a loud scream of joy, "Oh my god, it's Ember McLain!"

John's lips twitch with amusement but he's too busy singing the familiar words that they once wrote together while hiding out from his shitty father and her shitty mother. Both were just a couple of troubled teens no one thought would amount to anything, so they had to believe in themselves and each other back then.

He remembers thinking he would one day marry this girl. Life wasn't fair to those troubled like them.

Once their song ends, Ember lets out a whoop, flouncing down to John's level and punching him in the arm. He grins at her, trying not to notice how she looks exactly the same as she did sixteen years ago when the fire took her and he aged on without her.

"You git! How's it going?!" She laughs, punching him again. Ember's hair is a healthy flame, reaching to the middle of her back, which suggests she has likely enchanted a few humans lately. He's glad. She needs all the stabilization she can get. Her eyes roam his face before snorting "You're old as shit now."

"I'm thirty-two," He scoffs mockingly offended

"Wow, twice my age...." His words trail off as a familiar loneness sinks into her expression, and he wants to kick himself. Right, they were the same age once upon a time. Her face clears up long enough for her to smirk, "I bet your knees hurt from watching other people jump."

John gasps for real this time, but he doesn't have a chance to rebut because Bruce steps up, explaining what was happening to the superstar.

Ember gives him her full attention, nodding along to the plan. She's going to help because she knows the request is coming from John when he summoned her.

"You know Ember McLain!?" Someone hisses into his ear. He turns to the person fully prepared to gloat that, yeah, he knows the rock/pop star that was sweeping the nation, only to gape at the sight of Diana-Wonder Woman for Pete's sake- a starstruck gaze.

For a moment, his tongue doesn't work as Diana grips his upper arm. "My sisters and I used to listen to her music on repeat back home. Do you suppose you can get me an autograph for them?"

John doesn't know how to say no to Wonder Woman, so he finds himself asking his childhood friend, who is preparing to go into a portal made of science, if she can sign five hundred or so cards for free. She squints at him but shrugs. "Only if you can beat up Phantom for me."

"I told you, I'm not going to fight a child, Em."

"Even though he deserves it?!"

[ew-selfish-art]

DPxDC Au: Normally when Danny vandalizes ancient cave walls and historic places on his 'favor' missions for Clockwork, he gets sent back to erase them. But no, apparently this time, when Danny added his actual phone number into some painting, he's not allowed to go back and fix it. Ugh.

...

Tim has had the painting of Bruce professionally reviewed a few times since the old Bat was retrieved from the time stream. He's not entirely sure how the painting still exists, he's not even sure that it matters any more... But one day Tim catches something new in the painting.

It was small, and it could've just been the light at first but... Is that a phone number in the background?? It looks like black marker on the black curtains and it makes him feel feral. The family is kinder this time about how they think he's gone crazy- but each one of them admit that they can't remember a phone number ever being present.

The lab reports that the number was added over the paint- and that it's an ink based marking akin to a sharpie but like, hundreds of years old. So... It's been added recently but not at all recently enough for Tim to have an explanation.

Tim doesn't want to hear any more of his family members opinions on the matter and he certainly isn't going to just, stop investigating or something stupid like that. So, he takes the painting to the tower, gathers his team (Cassie, Kon and Bart), and they call the number in the middle of the night after a lot of planning/back-and-forth/catastrophizing.

It doesn't answer until the final ring, and the static that comes through the phone is bone chilling. A deep, monstrous groan which echoed with agony fills the room.

"I have a math test in like, three hours, who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you calling in the middle of the night?" The voice now complains, still sounding vaguely inhuman despite it's very human word choices.

"Your number is in a historical painting, we had a few questions but uh, you can call us back later?" Tim cringes as he says it but he hadn't planned on having to reply to someone trying to go back to bed. Or someone who was apparently also a teenager. (He had so, so many contingency plans for like, every kind of villain, alien or demon. lame.)

"...Ugh. might as well." The voice calls out, agreeing with a sigh that echos so deeply the team can feel it in their bones.

"Cool. Good luck on your test?" Tim offers.

"Mph." And the line hangs up.

...

Danny is at lunch with Sam and Tucker when he remembers the late night call. He'd spent the morning bitching about never getting a full night of sleep and it finally occurred to him what had happened. Of course his friends think it's hilarious that CW wouldn't let him erase his number. Of course they do.

They stop laughing when Danny calls the number back.

"Hello, this is Red Robin of Gotham. I have Superboy, Wonder girl and Impulse present with me. How did your math test go?"

[catwouthats]

This is why I hc them all as criminals that steal food as they travel.

They just leave notes like “sorry! I couldn’t afford to pay :) have to save the world now! -Love, Flash” but the store owner would be like Norwegian or some shit and not even understand the note so they would get mad anyways

That or they do them a favor like pick some flowers and make a bouquet as a thank you

Or they just straight up steal from large businesses.

I did it again :)

[brucewaynehater101]

Tim time travel where he fixes everything for his family and he sees them all as so happy without them

But Tim still has the mental skills and he's dedicated enough to retrain himself physically and he can't help himself but become a vigilante, one not associated with the Bats, maybe he works mostly in Bludhaven, Tim is just a Rumor

Bart comes back, a Bart who knows the stories of Rumor, a vigilante never identified

Kon reborn, a Kon who gets the memories of other timelines thanks to superboy prime's punch

Cassie is lent to the norse pantheon by zeus as a favor and receives the wisdom of another version of herself

they're not exactly the friends he left behind, but he's not the Tim they would have known

Tim loses the Bats, but he still has his family

and the justice league just wondering where this strange cryptid shadow kid came from and looking at Batman who is equally clueless but he's not telling them that

Ooh ~

Tim traveling back in time, refusing to reintegrate with the Bats, and C4 all having memories of Tim's original timeline??? A gorgeous premise. I particularly enjoy the vigilante name "Rumor."

So, Tim would have his team and be based in Bludhaven (?) for this AU. What would his team be called? I doubt they would take up their own names, especially if they were to distance themselves from their mentors (I am curious about how these memories would change the other C4 members' relationships with their respective groups).

Also, Rumor and Spoiler sounds like a fucking adorable team-up. Those names work really well together. Actually, can Steph retain the memories too? She could stay in Gotham and be Tim's liaison for the Bats (though the two of them often patrol together and cause chaos). Since Steph wasn't as integrated with the family, her only issue might be with Babs and Cass (and needing to rebuild her relationships with them, despite the pain it'd cause). Otherwise, let Steph have her independent vigilante career, but this time actively not seeking Bruce's guidance. Let her stand entirely on her own feet and be reassured in her own power. Let her be a part of YJ.

[mamawasatesttube]

on practical applications of qualitative analysis

T | 14k | timkon fluff and humor | the tim spreadsheet fic

Thesis statement A: Making a spreadsheet to sort out his feelings about Kon is one of the best ideas Tim has ever had. Arguments in favor? It’s foolproof. A good spreadsheet has never let him down in life yet! What better way is there to categorize and analyze his feelings on various incidents in an at least somewhat objective matter? Arguments against? What is he possibly gonna accomplish with a spreadsheet, in the realm of romance? Thesis statement B: A second spreadsheet would probably help. Arguments in favor? A second spreadsheet would DEFINITELY help. Arguments against? Yeah, that seems like sound logic. Two spreadsheets are always better than one, right?

Tim is not having the best day.

It’s not, like, the worst day he’s ever had—not even close, given that, y’know, no one’s dying and he’s not in grievous amounts of pain or anything—but it could be a lot better.

Why? Well, for one, everyone keeps saying he should stay home and not go on patrol “just in case”, because he’s “still in the recovery period” for a minor concussion (emphasis on minor! It wasn’t even a big deal!), even though he feels fine!

And Oracle even threatened him about it, which is super rude of her because she works through discomfort all the time. But because she’s a hypocrite, she was just like, Timothy, if I see you out there on any rooftops, and I will see you… just know you’ll regret it, and frankly, the vagueness is way scarier than any concrete threat. What if, like, she made up a fake PornHub search history and sent it to Bart like “here’s what Tim’s into” or something? Tim would never know peace again.

And to make matters worse, not only is he stuck sitting around at home, but also Kon is late.

He was supposed to be back on Earth yesterday, and he isn’t. What’s Tim supposed to do, watch Star Trek without a running commentary at his side? Yeah, right. “The Conscience of the King” blathers along on his TV, but he can barely pay attention. It just doesn’t sound right without Kon rambling about the significance of the Shakesperean passages chosen or whatever. Tim folds his arms across his chest, slouches on the sofa, and glares at the TV.

Kon’s been gone for nearly three weeks. Tim misses him. Ugh.

{ read on ao3! }

[often-daydreaming]

Wishes

"I just wish I could help him."

Tim sighed, tired eyes staring at the rows of monitors searching for any kind of change as he recalls the last thing he can remember Bart saying to him before everything went to hell when a barrier appeared around Central City cutting it off from the rest of the world. It had taken three days before anyone even realized what had happened and that was only after Barry returned from a mission in space and ran face first into the glowing green monstrosity trapping his friends inside some sort of otherworldly magical nonsense.

And it was kind of depressing that, that was all they knew after two months.

It was pure magic, old, ancient magic that had his friends living out the kind of picture perfect high school drama you'd find on tv and they only figured out that much after Cyborg accidentally picked up a weak signal being broadcast to anyone who got close enough.

That was the only real way anyone had to check up on everyone trapped inside and in a way Tim was kind of glad it was mainly focused on his friends and the meta kid Bart had been trying to introduce to everyone cause he had constant proof they were alive. Everyone else wasn't as lucky.

He was also mostly annoyed though cause the League couldn't even damage the stupid barrier anymore. They'd cracked it once, but that just seemed to annoy whatever was powering the thing because it spread out for miles in every direction in response to the Justice League's attempts at forcing open a door and ended up swallowing dozens of government agents and heroes who couldn't escape the danger zone in time.

"Any changes?"

"None." Like always.

He knew Dick was just as worried as he was about everyone trapped inside but the glowing green eyesore wasn't reacting to anything anymore.

Science didn't work.

Magic annoyed it.

They'd finally started looking into some of the more off world solutions that were available to them but so far nothing anyone tried seemed to affect it and he should know since he hasn't stopped monitoring the situation.

He's offered up rewards, called in every single favor he's ever been owed as Tim Drake and Red Robin and read up on everything magical he could get his hands on.

He's even hacked every government agency on the planet on the off chance there might have been a possible answer hidden away somewhere and was nowhere near as professional or gentle as he usually was while doing it. He was tired, worried and more than a little angry and didn’t care about how much damage he did to anyone's computer systems as he ripped even the slightest bit of information out of any server he came across taking anything and everything from Waller's own notes on the matter to research material from a rogue sect of the government calling themselves the GIW.

That had led him down a rabbit hole of government conspiracies and cover ups that would have normally kept him busy for weeks but he had passed on the worst of it to the rest of the League and focused on the handful of files they had on an off the books company called Fenton Works.

They apparently had a functional portal with more than enough power to punch a hole between dimensions so hopefully an investigation into them would keep him busy while they waited for a response from the Green Lanterns.

-_- -_- -_-

"You need to stop this Desiree."

"Why, Phantom and his paramour are happy aren't they?"

She already knew the answer since it was her magic warping such a large area and her grin only grew as she watched Undergrowth's little champion twitch at her words.

Because that was thing, Phantom was happy.

He was the happiest he's ever been in a very long time and well out of the way on a long overdue 'vacation'. So what if everyone was taking his absence as an excuse to run a little wild. Amity would survive. They always did. The avatar of the Speed Force didn't even seem to mind and Clockwork wasn't interfering with her latest wish either so she wasn't overstepping anywhere that really mattered since the Ancient of Time usually erased anyone who went too far with his favorite student.

He hadn't even popped in to deliver any of his usual threats when she overheard the little speedster's heartbroken wish so she banished the girl back to Amity Park without a second thought.

They couldn't force her to grant wishes anymore, not after Phantom went out of his way to help alter her curse and their constant whining was starting to get annoying.

If it wasn't Undergrowth's champion then it was the Pharaoh or Phantom's sister.

None of them could take the hint and leave well enough alone.

Cause, the thing is, she left more than enough wiggle room in the wish for Phantom to get free if he ever really wanted to get free and she wasn't sure he did.

Oh, on some level he was probably well aware of something being off but he was purposely ignoring that feeling.

He was happy in the world she shaped around him and his little speedster and Desiree wasn't about to ruin that for either of them.

She'd just head back to her lair if anyone tried.

No one could get to her there, not without wasting a lot of power so maybe she'd finally have a little piece and quit to enjoy her favorite show in peace.

It's not much but I wanted to try and think up a way for Danny to experience his very own version of WandaVision.

Essentially a sad Danny from any kind of reason really but for now I'm just blaming his entire life for this one and a desperately trying to be helpful Bart who has vague memories of a future with Danny get a starring role in a new life that was perfectly prepared just for them at the cost of pretty much everyone else.

I don't remember what it's called but there was a Disney movie about a superhero school so I'm kind of imagining that and a lot of really cheesy musical moments thrown in somewhere while everyone outside of the barrier is left worrying about their friends and family.

I know it's weird, but my mind just comes up with really weird ideas when I'm tired.

[thief-of-eggs]

Headcanon that Kon finally works up the nerve to confess his love to Tim- except he messes up and confesses on April Fools day, so after a long pause where Tim’s heart nearly leaves his chest, he just laughs and says “good one”

And while Kon is momentarily confused (and a little crushed), he quickly is reminded of the date by a less than favorable prank pulled by Bart- and instead of explaining things to Tim, he decides to roll with it

It becomes an inside joke between them both. Kon starts saying “love ya” before every mission- and he means it. But Tim just takes it as a joke, and he pretends it doesn’t make his cheeks flush, pretends it doesn’t make his heart race.

The longer it goes on without Tim confessing back, the bolder Kon grows. He is pretty sure Tim likes him back, given he can hear how Tim’s heart races each time he flirts- but he’s still waiting for the proper confession. And what better way to draw it out than by getting flirtier and flirtier?

“Have a good meeting, baby, I hope they don’t keep you from me for too long”

“Hey there hot stuff, is that a batarang in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

“Have I ever told you how beautiful your eyes look Tim? Because they really are. Brighter than the whole night sky alight with stars.”

Tim goes insane. He can’t show how much the phrases are affecting him, can’t let Kon know it isn’t a joke to him- so he flirts back. Because why on earth would he be normal and just talk about it?

He starts small, and works his way up to bolder statements. Speaking his heart, veiling the words as bits of their joke.

“Hey pretty boy, you gonna join us on this mission or is your head still in the clouds?”

“Calm down Kon, this is a sparring ring, not our bedroom”

“Can I get a kiss for luck babe? You know I always perform better when I’m around you.”

It’s like a game. Of wits, of wills. Everyone watches from a far with their eyebrows raised, watching the gayest friendship they’ve ever seen as the boys both flirt and flirt, a sort of game of chicken that neither seems to know the rules to.

It takes months for things to escalate so much till they’re essentially just dating. Tim doesn’t realize it until they’re sitting curled up on the couch together after a mission, his head on Kon’s shoulder, their legs intertwined under the blanket.

“We’re dating… aren’t we?”

Kon kisses the top of his head. “Took you a while, Mr detective.”

Tim’s face flushes as he rethinks every phrase Kon ever said to him, before winding back to that first fateful confession.

His heart skips a beat as the meaning dawns on him.

“You love me,” he says, less a question more a statement.

“I do,” Kon replies, fighting off a smile.

Tim’s heart races a mile a minute. He pushes away from Kon to look him in his eyes, his ribs feeling too small to contain his growing heart.

“I love you too,” he says, breathless with the confession.

“I know,” Kon answers, his eyes twinkling. Tim wants to punch him- but then Kon is kissing him, and Tim forgets every hostile feeling.

He pushes their combined idiocracy aside and grabs Kon by his shirt, and pulls the super into him.

[goldenroutledge]

champagne problems

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you catch lando’s eye at an art auction in monaco, so he challenges you to a friendly competition for one of the paintings. little does he know, you’d stop at nothing to get it. inspired by this request.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, illegal things vaguely mentioned, gossip girl au

a/n: thank you to @monzaaasharl for letting me use the request! based on events from gossip girl s6 ep6 but can be read without seeing the show! it is mentioned the reader is chuck’s stepsister, à la serena van der woodsen 🥂

lando norris masterlist

The reception was glamorous. Everything you would expect at an event like this, in a place of this caliber. Monaco was one of a kind that way; tuxedos were tailored to perfection and designer gowns flooded the room. The people adorning them certainly had the bank accounts to match.

For you, these scenes and crowds weren’t out of the ordinary. You’d been a part of them for many years at home in New York City. Sometimes alongside your mother at parties where her husband, and one of the city’s richest businessmen, commanded everyone’s attention.

The name Bart Bass spoke for itself, for better and for worse. You could only be so lucky that you were a teenager when your mother married him years ago.

Your step brother Chuck was not as lucky, being the one and only son of Bart’s. Under the weight of the Bass name, he could only hope to change the legacy that had been left for him. One that wasn’t tainted by duplicity and deceit.

If you could help him change that even a little bit, you would. It wasn’t a lonely effort either. Your entire friend group seemed to stick together in defining moments like these. When Chuck discovered a trail that would lead to the exposure of his father’s illegal business practices, there was no hesitation in your offer to help.

Bart often got away with any and everything, always facing little to no consequences for his wrongdoings. Paying off associates or officials using tens of millions in hush money was hardly a dent in the bank to someone like him.

Tonight, all of that could change. The justice you were looking for was right here in Monaco; a thin piece of microfilm enclosed in the back of a 1998 Richard Phillips painting being auctioned off tonight. Titled— The Spectrum.

On the film were numbers, nearly too small to see with the naked eye, that directly incriminate Bart in an illegal business deal. With a favorable social status and a hefty trust fund in your name, your logic tells you that it’s crazy to get wrapped up in all this knowing that if Bart finds out, he would likely turn your mother against you.

But your conscience reminds you just how many lies and just how much loss your family has endured at the hands of Bart Bass.

The soft touch of Nate’s hand on your shoulder interrupts your daydreamy stare into a flute of champagne. He’s out of breath and looks slightly panicked.

“Bart knows we’re here for the painting.”

“What?!”

“But Chuck’s following Bart’s guys, he won’t let them get near it.”

“The bidding starts in 10 minutes!”

“He won’t get here in time, it’s up to us. Think you can handle it?”

You give your best friend a knowing smirk, one that he returns.

“I know I can. These people may be rich as hell but Chuck would give his right arm for that microfilm. I won’t back down to anyone who bids on it.”

Your eyes flicker over to the painting, before they lock with a pair of blue ones across the gallery. He offers a subtle smile before turning his attention back to the painting. Whoever he was, he seemed to be a little too interested in the piece for your liking.

In a room full of deep pockets you knew you wouldn’t win a bidding war without a fight, but the challenge made it all the more entertaining. You turned to Nate, whose phone started ringing with a call from Chuck.

His eyes searched yours for reassurance and promise that you’d execute the plan.

You smiled at him, embracing your inner confidence mixed with a little liquid courage. “Answer him, I’ll take care of this.”

He nods, chuckling slightly as he follows your line of sight to the man admiring the painting. “Good luck.”

-

Lando fixated on the beautiful hues of The Spectrum. Though he can admit that the art doesn’t hold a candle to the woman that caught his eye across the room. He couldn’t tell if he was blinded by her smile or the sparkle of her dress, catching subtle glimpses of her throughout the evening.

His trance was broken by the soft clicks of stilettos inching closer and closer towards him, though the sounds were muffled over chattering guests and classical music.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? No wonder you’ve had your eyes on it all night.”

Lando’s head turned towards the woman’s voice, cheeks warming as he recognized you instantly. He wondered if you had been noticing him too, or at least knew who he was. Lando smirks and takes a subtle step closer to you.

If you weren’t about to psych him out of bidding on the painting, you’d be enamored by the scent of his cologne.

“Can’t help it, I’m naturally drawn to beautiful things.”

“Well, I guess you’re in the right place because this room is full of them.”

“That it is.” He teases, holding your eye contact while taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s almost impossible to find something I like best, but I think this one will blend in perfectly with the rest of my collection. Do you collect?”

“Art? No, I don’t collect art.”

“Then what is it you collect…?” Your sentence fizzles, realizing you hadn’t exchanged names.

“Lando.”

“Okay Lando, what is it you collect?”

He raises his eyebrows, almost surprised at the question, but chooses to be coy.

“Cars.”

“So then what brings you to an art auction?”

He shrugs in response. “Is it my turn to ask questions…?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n, what brings you to this auction?”

“I already said, my collection.” You smile, matching his coyness. If he wanted to be short and sweet, two could play at that game.

“Which is…?”

“In my apartment. In New York.”

“Wow, long way from home. You wouldn’t happen to be in need of someone to show you around, would you?”

“Not really, I’m just here for the painting.”

“Maybe you came for the painting, but I could give you a reason to stay.”

You roll your eyes at his flirty attempts, ultimately brushing him off. “And what reason would that be? A private tour of your car collection?”

“You’d be surprised. What happens if I decide to take home the Richard Phillips myself?”

“You mean if you’re able to outbid me for it?”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine.” Lando assures. “I promise I’ll let you come over and see it.”

“No need. The painting is what brought me here, remember? There’s no way I’m leaving without it.”

Maybe it was the competitor in him, (it probably was), but seeing you get more and more eager about the work of art fueled something inside of him. Sure, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to step aside and let you have it. But where was the fun in that?

“You mean the painting that you only noticed about 5 minutes ago? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were using it as a cover to come over and talk to me.”

“Forgive me for sounding rude but… who are you?”

“I don’t just collect cars, Y/n. I‘m a Formula One driver.”

Your unimpressed stare makes him feel like an idiot, once he quickly realizes that maybe you really don’t have an ulterior motive.

“In any case, The Spectrum will look much better decorating the halls of my apartment than it will look collecting dust in your bachelor pad. It’s not like you’ll even be at home to enjoy it.”

“We’ll see about that-” Lando continues, before the bid caller starts introducing the pieces of art, the Richard Phillips being the crown jewel of them all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if we’re ready to begin, I’d like to start the bidding for the Richard Phillips at $500,000.”

Lando raises his bidding paddle immediately, quick reflexes and all. “500.”

“I hear $500,000, going once..”

“520!” You respond, before lowering your voice so only Lando can hear your next statement. “You may be an athlete but I promise this is a race you won’t be winning.”

“Lucky for you, I’m up for the challenge.” He teases, raising his bidding paddle once more. “540!”

“560!” You announce with confidence, eyes shooting daggers at the man beside you.

Another guest made a bid for 570, prompting Lando to bid 580.

“580!” The announcer calls. “Do I have 600?”

“$750,000!” You shout, turning heads.

Oddly enough, your bid inspires others to chime in also. There had to be something about what they wanted to prove to everyone else in the room— there was always someone richer in Monaco.

Lando certainly looks at you in disbelief, wondering how far you’ll take this. “Oh, now you’re just showing off. You only want the damn thing because I do anyway!”

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Then why do you want it so bad?”

“It would be a nice treat for my family and I, that’s all.” Your eyes flicker around the room to the other bidding paddles, the number climbing quickly. “What’s it to you? Why do you want it so bad?”

Lando shrugs, raising his paddle to bid $920,000. “It’s for a good cause.”

“920… Going once, going twice…”

“1 million dollars!” You shout, looking around the room, daring anyone to exceed your bid.

Lando’s mouth hangs open and for a second he almost wants to challenge it.

But then he imagines the heart attack it would likely give his business manager to see a surprise million-dollar charge to his account.

“What?” You question him insincerely. “It’s for a good cause.”

“1 million dollars! Going once, going twice…. Sold to the lady in silver!”

You smile graciously at the applause from the crowd. After all, this was a victory for the charity of the evening. Little did they know you just secured a victory of your own.

Lando sighs. “Well, congratulations. I’m sure your husband will be thrilled.”

“Husband? What are you talking about?”

“That man you’ve been whispering with all night. You said the painting was for your family?”

“Who, Nate?” Your face scrunches up in perplexity, following Lando’s line of sight towards the back of the room where Nate is standing with Chuck, clapping and beaming with pride that everything went according to plan, the painting is yours now.

“Yeah, whatever his name is.”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids. And if you must know, I’m not married.”

Lando chuckles, part amused and part embarrassed that he jumped to conclusions. He reminds himself that he needs to stop doing that.

“And he didn’t send you over here to flirt with me in hopes that I wouldn’t outbid you?”

“He didn’t put me up to anything, I am way above those childish antics! And I’d hardly call any of that flirting.”

“Whatever it was, I guess it worked, didn’t it?”

You smile at him, contemplating your answer. “I suppose. If it makes you feel any better, I promise I have only good intentions.”

“Well either way, I still have to find my mum a new birthday present.” He grumbles, taking a swig of his drink.

Your smile falters and you give his arm a nudge, taken aback by his confession. “The painting was for your mother? Why didn’t you say that?!”

“I’m not sure if anyone’s ever told you this, Y/n, but you’re not that easy to negotiate with.”

“I’ve been told. But for the record, neither are you.”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t have given up the painting. So I don’t hold it against you.” Lando concedes, but starts eyeing you suspiciously. “Although… I still don’t know your motive. I mean all of that drama simply for your art collection which is 4,000 miles across the Atlantic? I don’t believe it. So tell me, Y/n, what’s your motive?”

Lando chuckles at the stone cold stare you give him in return. “It’s only fair, Y/n, I told you mine.”

“Are we in first grade or something?”

By the look he’s giving you, it’s obvious that he’s actually dead serious.

At which you sigh, surrendering to the man’s relentless attempts to get a real answer out of you. Moments prior you did the same to him, except it’s not as fun when the tables are turned.

“The Richard Phillips painting, it belongs to my mother.”

Lando’s eyes widen in disbelief, like a deer in headlights. “You bid a million dollars on a painting you might as well already own?! Fucking hell, why on Earth woul-”

Abruptly, you take him by the arm and escort him away from the main crowd, an action that shocks you both.

But the last thing you needed was for him to blabber out all of your secrets, draw attention to you both and blow your cover in this crowded room.

“Long story short, my stepfather has been involved in some…not exactly legal business practices. And I’m not talking about some common white collar crimes, he makes Madoff look like a fucking Saint. He’s been hiding his proof in the back of that Richard Phillips painting, sort of in plain sight to throw the scent off. My mom’s had that painting in the apartment as long as I’ve been alive. By the time I found out the evidence was in there she had already sold it. My stepbrother tracked it down, and here I am.”

Lando looks like he doesn’t know what to say, equal parts confused and concerned for what kind of danger you might be in or just how deep this all goes.

“There’s not enough time in the world to explain everything but just know that he’s hurt a lot of people, not only my family and I. He deserves what’s coming to him and it starts with what’s hidden behind that painting.”

His heart softens at the look of purpose and conviction in your eyes, understanding that whatever this is, it’s bigger than you and him.

“Well if he’s facing your wrath, I should probably be wishing him the best of luck. Whatever the consequences to his actions, the U.S. government is no match for you.”

At that you let out a laugh, one that’s genuine and full of heart. You can’t even remember the last time someone made you laugh like that, and it was refreshing.

“That’s very sweet, Lando, even if you didn’t intend it that way. I just hope I’m not going to all of this trouble for nothing. I don’t want it to be in vain.”

“It won’t be, you’ll see.”

“How could you be so sure?”

“Just a hunch.” He muses sarcastically, feigning uncertainty.

For the first time tonight you feel appreciative towards him, to the kindness and listening ear he’s giving you, a total stranger until about 20 minutes ago.

The irony wasn’t lost on you that while he was bidding on the art for a gift to his mother, you were bidding on it to repossess evidence that would send your stepfather to prison for the rest of his life, likely devastating your own mother in the process.

“Let me help with your mother’s birthday gift. Please?”

He raises his eyebrows at your sudden offer, wondering how or why you would be interested.

“You don’t need to do that. Aren’t you a little busy with your own family?”

“Somewhat. That doesn’t mean I can’t make it up to you.”

“You won the painting fair and square, Y/n.”

“Please?” You nearly begged, widening your eyes.

Lando sighs jokingly as a way of admitting defeat. “We really are in first grade.”

“See, I knew you’d come around! Art Basel will be in Miami soon, I’ll stay for the whole week if I have to. Surely I can find some amazing pieces for your mother there, I might even find another Richard Phillips painting!”

“I don’t dare underestimate you again.” He quips, raising his glass to you. “I have no doubt that we will find something.”

“We?”

“I’m a Formula One driver, remember? We’ve been racing in Miami for a couple years now, I hope you’re prepared to stay there for the weekend.”

You roll your eyes at his bargain, of course he already has plans laid out for you. “You’re as persuasive as you are slick, Lando.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”

“You’re as sharp as you are stubborn, Y/n.”

“You haven’t seen the worst of me yet.”

He laughs, impressed at how you manage to stay one step ahead of his banter. “Just promise me one thing?”

You humor him with an unsure look, knowing you would accept his terms anyway. “What’s that?”

“Don’t get into anymore bidding wars with handsome strangers.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s our thing.”

“Okay, Lando. I think I can agree to that.” You muse, holding out your pinky for him, the two of you subconsciously moving closer into each other’s space. “From here on out, bidding wars will be our thing.”

Lando accepts, but decides to challenge you further. “I’m no lawyer, but I don’t think pinky promises are binding, Y/n.”

You nod slowly in acknowledgement, realizing just how close the two of you are standing now, and how intensely he seems to be focusing on the beautiful features of yours he’s had yet to see up close.

Now that you think of it, you haven’t had a chance to take a good look at him either. His eyes are as captivating as his smart aleck wit that’s been keeping you on your toes from the moment you two spoke.

And in a split second, you forget all that was stopping you from noticing what drew you in to Lando to begin with. Your lips collide with his, the stress and tension you’ve been carrying melting away into the kiss, and he’s certainly eager enough to take it on for you.

Mesmerized by each other, you then forget how the hell you both ended up here, tucked away in a dark room from the art you were just competing for.

Until you do remember that you are still proving a point after all, breaking away from the kiss just a moment too soon and smirking in his face.

“How’s that for binding, Lando?”

He appears amazed, out of breath and slightly shocked that you went there. You, however, were carrying on with ease, your thumb brushing over his lips at the faint stain of your lipstick on him.

“Close enough.” Lando coaxes, this time bringing his thumb to brush against your cheek delicately.

His fingertips may as well have been on fire by the way his touch made you feel red hot, and yours to him. Instead of backing away from the burn, Lando leaned in, giving into temptation and meeting your lips once again.

💌: this is my first time writing for lando! likes, reblogs, comments & feedback is greatly appreciated! thanks for reading <3

[mochi-kitty]

No because do yourself a favor and Don’t imagine Helen waking up one morning and grabbing the paper from the door and dropping her coffee mug onto the floor. Don’t imagine her reading the headline FLASH MURDERED over and over, reaching for the phone to call Bart to ask what the hell happened to Wally, only to read the first few lines and it’s Bart… Bart took on the Flash costume. Bart was killed. No one called her. There’s a huge funeral, all of his hero friends and hundreds of others will attend. They outed his civilian identity. It’s miles away and no one knows that she’s Max’s daughter; the daughter of the man who taught Bart what he knew. No one called her. She doesn’t know anyone who would know to call her.

Don’t imagine her dropping to the floor and hugging a confused Dox to her chest. Don’t imagine her sobbing for her missing father and the death of the little chaos whirlwind she’d come to love.

[moaloves]

YJ98 as stupid shit my friends and I have said

Fic

"May the odds be ever in your fucking favor YOU HAVE AUTISM" -Bart to Tim

"I feel like a husband finding out his wife is pregnant for the fourth time" -Kon

"And I thought those plumber porn videos were lies" "WHAT?" "Being in here is making me realize all those awkward angles aren't unrealistic" -Cassie and Cissie

"That sounds like a drag queen prostitute or a Wreck it Ralph villain that is a little too cunty to be straight" -Bart (probably about Slobo)

"Men are weird, THAT man deserves to be studied under close observation" -Red Tornado about Bart

"I thought macaroons were a fruit no joke" -Bart

"Alright streetwalker put the money makers away we're going to see GOD" -Anita to Cassie

"Ah yes before the time travel but after the world-ending apocalypse" -Kon

"Why do you have so much-autism" -Kon to Tim

"He will have to bestie up with Jesus Christ, and I'm JEWISH. Do you know hard you have to partner up with someone else's god?!" -Tim

"Oh boy 800 mg ibuprofen and chocolate cake, truly the food of kings" -Greta to Tim

[egrettacaerulea]

Tim tried his best to bring Jason back to the family and when it finally worked, slowly he started to disappear. Because Jason was back so of course they no longer needed the placeholder, right? He was sad that he needed to leave, but he didn't want to impose the family any longer when he was no longer welcomed. He already had a plan anyway. He would stay with Kon and Bart for a little while, maybe continued being Red Robin or find another thing to do.

He thought everything went well. Until on the last leg of his packing--it was his last safe house in Gotham that needed to be rid off--Jason barged in. He saw the state of the safe house, and glared at Tim.

"Where the hell are you going?" he demanded, didn't bother with any preambles. "I checked all of your other safe houses and all is clean--you haven't even come to the manor for weeks! What the fuck are you doing, baby bird?"

Tim felt guilty. Jason sounded angry and the way he used the nickname made Tim unable to do anything but tell him the truth. "Um, I'm gonna leave? I mean--you're back. So my job as a placeholder is done."

Anger flashed on Jason's eyes but it was quickly morphed into sadness and guilt.

"You're not a placeholder, Tim. You're part of the family too."

"But--"

"Shut up and don't leave," Jason cut him off. "Because you're the reason why I'm staying in the family too, so if you're going then I'm going with you."

"What, Jason, you can't--"

"Stay, or I'm going with you," Jason cut him off again, giving no room for him to argue.

Tim should insist, but he knew how stubborn Jason could be and he was also aware that nothing he could say would change Jason's mind. He couldn't make Jason leave again because Bruce and the others would be so heartbroken.

"Okay. Fine. I'm staying."

Jason's hard stare changed into a happy smile. "Good. Now come with me to the manor. You need to explain to the worried Bruce and Alfred, and Dick also has been dying to give you a hug."

Tim's eyes widened. Jason was probably lying. There was no reason for them to be worried or looking for him now that Jason was back, right?

Somehow Jason saw right through his mind because he pulled Tim into a gentle headlock and ruffled his hair. "And apparently we need to try harder to instill into your thick skull that you're family too, baby bird."

Jason knew that Tim wasn't really convinced yet, but Jason could be very persuasive. Tim got his family back after all, so it was his time to return the favor.

[radioactive-earthshine]

I think you're the person to ask this (I hope). I saw someone say that Bart has an older brother named Owen and he's Captain Boomerang's son. Is this true or is this a fanon myth? Thanks.

Hello!

This is a FLASH FACT and it's one of the more absurd pre-Flashpoint comic plots that were never really addressed.

The Flash (1987) #221

Owen Mercer is known as Captain Boomerang II and he is Bart Allen's half-brother imbued with a low-level of super speed. His father is Digger Harkness, the first Captain Boomerang and famous Flash Rogue.

His origins, and how he came into speed powers was an unknown until the end of the Rogue War arc where it is finally revealed who his mother is.

The Flash (1987) #225

Any Bart Allen fan is just...

...seeing Meloni Thawne, as this is Bart's mother!

So how can this be?

The Flash (1987) #224

Inevitably, time-travel. During the Rogue War it reveals that Digger got shunted to the future where he loses his memory (temporarily) and is approached by a familiar looking woman... Who else has hair with that much volume?

We don't know any meaningful specifics about Owen, when he was born in relation to Bart (only it was likely afterwards so he's technically his little brother), when he got back to the past or HOW, and why he is back in the past. These are all big unknowns that were never really addressed in the comics.

It also never reveals Bart or Owen "finding out" that they are siblings. The fact remains that the amount of people who have been confirmed to know Bart's mother's name in the comics can be counted on one hand so it is a deep secret and one Geoff Johns was attempting to build on but never got a chance to.

There is one intriguing scene between Ashley Zolomon and Digger that offers us a little insight, and gives us more questions than answers about this situation.

The Flash (1987) #222

It is implied that Digger Harkness knew at least that Meloni was Bart's mother (implying Owen was likely born after Bart), and that it must remain a secret less the other Rogues kill Owen for his relation to Eobard Thawne. The fact that Digger was telling Ashley to tell Owen to stay away from his broth(er) opens up some questions; does Owen know that Bart is his brother? Does he know and is choosing to keep away, or is Digger pleading with Ashley to not tell Owen that Bart is his brother? We don't know. Digger is dying in this scene and Ashley finds out all of this while he is on his deathbed and she keeps all of this secret.

Geoff didn't get to really do anything with this as his time on The Flash ended with the end of this arc so we don't know if he had any sort of plans to show what the consequences would be if Owen and Bart actually got to have a relationship.

I once said it was unlikely that Geoff knew Meloni was Bart's mother and that was a mistake so sorry Geoffrey (I know you'll forgive me).

Right now, Owen still exists as a character but it might be that they are no longer brothers, we don't know for sure yet. But at one time, they were half brothers and there might have been a bigger story there that Didio likely said "no" to in favor of grim-dark bullshit 🙄

Hope this answers some questions! Happy Reading.