#College Hal would definitely stay up and not get enough sleep because he's working on engineering projects

[thelastranger]

for the prompts— 57 And 69 for Edvin and Hal friendship, modern au, please? thank youu ❤️ i love your writing btw it's absolutely amazing

Ahhhhhh that means a lot, thank you! I’m just happy to help contribute to the fandom. Anyway, have some sleep-deprived disaster college boys that turned out way longer than I expected. 

57. “Sleep is for the weak”

If someone had told Hal three months ago at the start of freshman year that he would be the one trying to force a reluctant Edvin to go to bed, he would have laughed in their face. Out of the little friend group that had assembled during college orientation, Edvin was by far the one with his life together. He knew where his classes were (unlike Wulf and Ulf), he didn’t survive off of junk food (unlike Stefan and Hal), he paid taxes (literally no one else did), and he could do laundry without messing things up (again, Wulf and Ulf). Edvin was the responsible one that kept the rest of the herons alive when Hal came up with crazy ideas and they loved him for it.

So it was a major surprise that it was Hal telling Edvin to go to sleep (and not just because Hal was infamous on the dorm floor for not getting enough sleep).

“You need to go to sleep Edvin!” pleaded Hal who was a little out of his depth here. Sure it was finals weeks and everyone was studying like crazy, but he was pretty sure Edvin hadn’t slept in like two days. 

“Sleep is for the weak,” hissed out Edvin, hunched over his laptop and textbooks. “And only the strong ace their finals.”

That definitely did not sound right to Hal and it freaked him out a little if he was being honest. 

“You’re a nursing major; you of all people should know the importance of getting enough sleep.”

At the reminder of his (self-assigned) duty and responsibility, Edvin seemed to shake himself out of his caffeine and sleep-deprived fervor. A quick look down at his ratty blanket and cheeto covered textbooks and panic flashed in his eyes.

“Hal, what are you doing here?” Edvin asked hesitantly. 

Hal only smiled gently. “Come on buddy, let’s get you some warm milk and I’ll getcha to bed.”

“Ok, ok,” Edvin was definitely out of it and with any luck, he wouldn’t remember tonight because he’d be straight up embarrassed at the way he was acting. 

Edvin allowed himself to be led to the dorm kitchen and Hal prayed that there would be milk and that it wouldn’t be expired. You never knew when it came to the dorm kitchen.

69. “Listen, it’s for science”

“Listen, it’s for science,” were words Edvin never wanted to hear come out of Hal Mikkelson’s mouth, but here they were. 

Edvin stretched out a careful arm. “Buddy, I know you love science and the Heron, but you need to put down the nail gun and get some sleep.” 

“No!” exclaimed Hal who still had the nail gun in his hands. 

Edvin had been woken up in the middle of the night by the rest of the Herons (bar Ingvar who had also been asleep in the room but who was a much deeper sleeper than Edvin) and had blearily rubbed his eyes as Stig explained Hal had taken over the basement with scary looking wooden pieces and elaborate blueprints. No one had been able to talk him into getting any sleep and not even Stig had gotten him to put the nail gun down, which Edvin was pretty sure violated a lot of safety hazards. 

“Hal, if you don’t stop making crossbows and trying to modify the rowboats, Erak is going to kick you out.”

Hal shook his head confidently. “He wouldn’t kick me out; Thorn would give him too hard of a time.”

The smaller boy ignored the blatant nepotism (was it nepotism?) that Hal had just demonstrated and tried to think of what would distract Hal enough for Stig to grab the crossbow away. An idea crossed his mind and he motioned for Stig to start creeping toward the weapon in the background. 

Edvin Put his hands up in a “I surrender” sign and sat down, legs crossed, next to Hal. 

“Let’s just forget about the nail gun for a minute, yeah?” Edvin smiled. “Why don’t you tell me about your plans for the Heron. What color are you going to paint her?”

Hal peered suspiciously at his friend, pretty sure this was some sort of trick to make him stop hugging the Mangler and go to bed, but it was Edvin. He was so calming and always knew what to do that Hal couldn’t resist starting to talk about his pride and joy. 

Hal was so engrossed in his conversation with Edvin that he didn’t see or hear the rest of his friends cleaning up the mess he made and the conversation was so soothing that Hal didn’t even realize he was falling asleep on Edvin’s shoulder. 

Edvin didn’t dare move Hal from the first good sleep he’d gotten in who knows how long until Stig stood over the duo. 

“Thanks Edvin. I thought he was going to nail Tursgurd to the wall if this kept up.”

Edvin shifted up and Stig took Hal up on one shoulder. 

“Any time Stig. Any time.”

[fellowstrangetownappreciator]

Well, that was cold

I have mod that makes diseases actually dangerous. (actually several of them and they’re all listed here on Pleasant Sims’ modlist)

The first rotation? Everything’s fine. The only one who fell ill was John Burb and he, as a family Sim, was able to soup himself to health in no time.

The second rotation... Ajaj Loner got sick.

With cold.

I was like, “I know flu is pretty dangerous with this mod but cold should be fine, right? I mean, I used to have it four times a year. So glad it’s not flu!”

I thought I was lucky.

I wasn’t.

After Ajaj’s turn ended, he was free to wander around and spread the cold everywhere.

Because they have chemistry and she was on a prowl, I even had Nina Caliente seduce Ajaj. She got the cold but I was like whatever, she’s a strong quasi-alien, running nose for a few days won’t kill her!

How fatally wrong I was I realized during a vacation that Nina went on with her sister and Ajaj. She was just chilling, sleeping in her hotel room, when all of the sudden, Grim Reaper!

You sure, Dina?

Nina was dead. Dead from the cold. And she was pregnant, no less!

I reloaded because it was on a vacation and Nina was the only playable Sim, so I was quite worried what would become of the grave. I managed to get her home and moved Chloe Curious in, so that someone can eventually plead for her. She was lucky the second time around and survived. Chloe got infected but survived as well.

But we had an epidemic on our hands now. Ajaj and Nina have been quite successful generously sharing their cold all across the hood and I failed to keep track of who has it.

Still, I thought it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t understand the scale, I was still thinking that it was just Ajaj, Consort Capp and the Pleasants.

Again, I was wrong.

When I got in the rotation to the Capps (the Capps 1), everyone was infected. I was still optimistic, though, because we were talking about a household where 2/4 Sims are Family and one is a Family Secondary, they can bathe in the soup!

The teens ate their soup and survived.

Consort died that night. He was due to die at the end of their round anyway but because he didn’t do so of old age, his grandchildren received no bonus inheritance.

The only one who gained something from that was Olive Specter who was delighted to see Consort, her crush, perish, so she could finally raise him as a zombie.

Unfortunately I couldn’t find a screenshot of her actually raising him, so here’s at the very least Olive walking menacingly to work.

Anyway, moving onto the Capps again (the Capps 2, Goneril edition), things looked bleak. Goneril was pregnant and she and all the kids were infected. Albany was immediately called to action to generate enough soup but the house devolved into utter chaos. Everybody had their soup but just as they recovered, they got infected again!

Ok, I was thinking, Consort was quite old and fragile. Nina must’ve had the cold for a long time, given she was on a vacation. There’s no way the kids are gonna die on the first day they got infected. They had the soup, so I’ll send them to beds, so they can get a good-night sleep and enough rest.

Nope.

Ariel, a child, died in her sleep.

Nobody was able to get to her in time to plead for her.

While I was contemplating an in-character way of resurrection, Desdemona, a young teen, died in her sleep just about two hours after her sister.

Again, nobody was fast enough.

Luckily, Miranda was already in college and she was roommates with Ophelia Nigmos, who was in possession of a genie lamp she was safeguarding from Olive. Hearing about the tragedy that befell her friend’s family, moved by the death of a little girl and her not much older sister, Ophelia the Family Sim offered Miranda the lamp on the spot.

Miranda rushed home to drop off the lamp and then ran off so she doesn’t get infected. Well, she did anyway but since I haven’t played the college Sims yet, I don’t know of her fate.

Hal made a good use of the lamp. He rolled the wants to resurrect both his sisters and that’s exactly what he did.

He triumphantly finished making the wishes...

And dropped dead.

Another young soul succumbed to cold.

But! Since there was still a wish left and his sisters were back alive, Desdemona swiftly brought him back.

Ariel’s and Hal’s resurrections were perfect.

Desdemona’s was faulty, so her personality got reversed.

But as long as they’re alive and preferably not zombies, everything will do.

The Capps were all cured! Hooray!

Wait. Not all Capps. There was still Regan’s branch and, predictably, they were all infected. And this time, there was no Family Sim in sight.

The only non-infected Sim in the family was a little toddler. The poor, poor child was in for a life-long trauma.

Kent went quick and quiet the first night of their round. Regan fortunately recovered. Cornwall did too. They had a very lucky start of the round all together, I may add. Kent’s tragic death was followed by Regan’s demotion that lead to her subsequent want to quit her job (...and she was the only one who was making any significant money), then Cornwall set the house on fire while cooking breakfast, then he got fired.

Poor thing. First got house-fired, then job-fired.

Regan’s LTW was to reach the top of the Law career, so she got herself a new job there. On her first day, she got promoted!

And she brought home a friend! Sweet!

No... nooooo...

It was Ajaj F*ckin’ Loner.

Both Regan and Cornwall got infected before you could say “act your surname and social-distance, you jerk!”

Cornwall died almost immediately. Unfortunately, Regan was asleep and failed to get up and ambush the Grim Reaper in time.

On the bright side, she recovered!

So I watch her go to work, the nanny arrives to baby-sit the toddler, everything seems to finally have settled down.

But then I spot an unexpected movement in the house.

It’s Titania Summerdream. Who let her in? I have no idea.

It would be quite sweet of her to check on her friend Regan after she lost two family members and to help with her young daughter.

If... if she didn’t have the fricking cold!

Regan returned from work and I rushed to have her send Titania away.

Of damn course she didn’t go before giving the cold to Regan.

Now it was the third time Regan got infected and there were no other family members to take care of the toddler if she dies. It was very suspenseful. I decided to use extreme measures and I teleported Albany in, made him selectable and had him cook the soup.

Instead of that, he proceeded to bicker with Regan.

If he got re-infected, I swear...

Anyway, after a three tries or so, Regan got her soup and Albany was on his merry way away.

What a relief! I sent Regan to sleep, trusting the soup to do its magic. The next morning her needs all looked great! No notification yet but I was sure it’s gonna arrive any second. When suddenly...

Yeap, she died.

Regan Capp died the way she lived. Paying her family’s bills.

I used Simblender again to quickly move in Hal. He was there in time to plead for Regan!

And for the first time in the Capp household, he actually made it! He pleaded!

And... and... lost.

So I had him stay to take care of the toddler until their round was over. Then I moved them both back with Goneril’s branch.

At the very least young Ione, the genius toddler with maxed Logic skill, got something resembling a birthday party with her cousin and his boyfriend Alexander Goth.

Given that Montys had their losses as well, the cold has already taken out much of the adult population of Veronaville.

The only two adults left (not counting fresh elders Albany and Goneril) in Veronaville were in fact the Summerdreams who were extremely lucky and with an abundance of soup, they survived.

To be completely honest, I’m very happy with the mod. I tend to play large hoods and although it tends to be rather tragic, the occasional epidemic of cold trims the population down a bit without me killing anybody off and it gives the game an additional bit of challenge and randomness.

...or maybe I’m just a sh*tty person to my Sims.

Bonus screenshots of the Strangetown cold outbreak:

Vidcund Curious spent two nights sleeping in a chair in his children’s bedroom because he was afraid they’re going to die from the cold in their sleep and wanted to be there to plead for them. In the end it actually happened, he pleaded and managed to save his daughter.

The Smiths had to be unfortunately visited by the Therapist. PT9 died on the day he was supposed to die of old age but hours prior, he became yet another victim of the cold. And it was very unlucky, since it meant no inheritance and by the Watcher, Jenny and their 5 kids could definitely use it. They were completely broke.

But not everything was morbid and tragic!

Lazlo rolled quite the unexpected want to get married to his girlfriend, Cassandra Goth. They weren’t engaged, she wasn’t pregnant, he’s not a Family secondary, and the date they were on wasn’t even in the stage Sims usually roll engagement wants, he simply rolled it out of the blue. And of course I went with it! (Cassandra had recently divorced Don, rolling the wish to remarry almost immediately.)

The only family in the hood that could technically mass-produce medicine so that not everyone is dependent on the soup, the Beakers, of course didn’t. Why would they risk their hides, toying with the Mysterious Disease, when they didn’t have to? Instead, they social-distanced and spent the rotation raking in promotions and taking care of their army of children. (Loki kept rolling wants to get abducted and ARC wasn’t kind to them either. But with Loki being Family secondary and Circe leaving most of the parenting on him anyway, I don’t think they mind.)

Note the alien toddler, the second youngest child. He has 10 Nice points. That’s 4 points more than all 5 of his siblings and his parents combined. He’s gonna have a rough childhood, the poor thing.

Jill Smith managed to get nibbled on by the pack leader just in time, a few days before going to college. She’s thrilled by her new wolf-y powers! And regardless of what her mother says, she knows the fur goes with her school uniform just perfectly!

Rachel Pleasant, the youngest offspring of Daniel that he knows about (the second youngest overall), aged up into a child! And judging by the look on her face, she already knows how much of a mess her family is.

Not even being brought back from the dead made Desdemona Capp immune to the Summerdream charm. Bottom, the young Romance Sim, invited her girlfriend to hang out in their hot tub. It was an afternoon to remember for both of them.

Local ageing general married a successful young athlete, Kristen Loste. Unfortunately for everyone attending the wedding, the bride’s former roommate Chloe Curious decided that flirting with her literally the next interaction after Kristen said, “I do.” was a smart idea. No need to add that the wedding cake was left to rot forgotten, never cut. It was a sad wedding cake but even though it started to stink around two hours after the wedding, it still lasted longer than the marriage.

And far away in La Fiesta Tech, two estranged siblings were talking things out and healing their relationship.

Now I lost this hood (again) and started a new one, so the next gameplay post will probably feature the same characters in completely different circumstances and nothing is going to make sense but... what does anyway?

[ellana-ravenwood]

“Is...father drunk ?”- Bruce Wayne x Reader

I was trying to find a way to make Bruce say that alright ? And I was thinking : “That’s kind of something I can’t see out of his mouth unless he’s drunk, which is ridiculous cause Batman’s never drunk and...Wait...OH !”. And this is how this story was born. This is a poor attempt at imagining a drunk Bruce Wayne..After my latest fic, which was very sad, I though maybe we were in need of some fluff...hoping you guys will like it :

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

This was...a first.

You had seen him in a lot of states that most people would find impossible to even think about when it comes to the Batman.

You had seen him happy, cheerful, silly, horny, goofy, cracking stupid jokes and farting in front of you without any shame (oh the number of time he trapped you under the sheet right after he let out an awfully loud and smelly fart...ass) !

But this ?

This was most definitely a first.

Leaning against his best friend, Clark Kent, eyes half-closed and a stupid smile on his face, his tie undone hanging around his neck loosely, his dress shirt out of his pants, you were pretty sure he was very drunk.

But it was impossible ! 

You’ve never seen Bruce drunk, and you’ve been with him for years ! 

He never even got tipsy, NEVER , at all those damn galas and charity event you always had to go. Not. Even. TIPSY. 

He doesn’t like to loose control and usually drinks with parsimony. A few drinks within a few hours. Enough to socialize around a glass, definitely not enough to have his mind clouded. 

And here he was, in front of you, an elbow on Clark’s shoulder, too intoxicated to even stand on his own.

Clark gives you an apologetic smile, as you look at both of them, stunned. With a little nervous chuckle, he says :

-Hum...So things kinda got out of hands.

Bruce whips��his head around to look at his friend and, outraged, says : 

-Non-sense Clarkie, things went perfectly fine ! Now bring me home, my wonderful and perfect wife is there and I want to see her because she’s wonderful and perfect and I love her.

You couldn’t believe it. Your Bruce was really drunk ! His voice wasn’t his usual one, it was weirdly clumsy and a bit higher than normal...him who always had a perfectly steady and sure low voice (that often made you shiver) !

Things do not quite register in your head, as you stare at both men, bewildered. After a few seconds, and while Bruce was singing “itsy bitsy spider”, running his fingers up Clark’s arm (imitating the spider you know), the reporter finally says :

-Not that he’s really heavy, not for me at least, but hum...Do you think we could come in ? Lois is waiting for me back home, it’s really late...

Suddenly, you realize that you didn’t even invite him in, and just stared at her for the past few minutes, too surprised to act, looking at your drunk husband and embarrassed friend without much reaction but widened eyes and mouth opened. 

-Oh, yes, sure, sorry Clark, come in, let’s go to the living room. 

The man follows you in, and you close the door behind him, completely astonished by Bruce waving at you dreamily and saying “theeeeeere she is, my wonderful and perfect wife...Or are you an Angel ?”, twisting his neck around to try and see you as you walk behind them both.

************ 

It was around 7 pm when he left to meet them in some dive bar uptown. You convinced him to go, and he wasn’t particularly happy about that but...Oh well, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. 

That night, Batgirl and Batwoman, Barbara and Kate, were on duty in Gotham and for once in a very long time, the entire family was off...Only, it was Clark’s bachelor party (finally, after years of being together, the damn man popped the question to Lois...For real though, you gotta ask yourself some questions when Bruce “I’m emotionally disabled” Wayne asks his girl to marry him BEFORE you). 

There would be other family nights, but Clark would only have one bachelor party (hopefully), and of course he really wanted his best friend to be there. 

Bruce at first refused, wanting to be with you and his sons but...well, he had to admit you were right (you always were) and to be honest, a night away from his damn children always bickering each others for no reasons (and only when HE was around ! Like with their mother, everything was FINE...how did she do it?) sounded pretty nice. 

He left at 7 pm, as you and your boys were getting ready to have a “The Lord of the Rings” marathon (extended version of course, your plan being to watch as much as you can until you all collapse of sleep and exhaustion, your belly full of cakes, ice cream and tea that Alfred made before he went to bed early...for once). 

He came back at 4 am, in the middle of “The Two Towers”, struggling to walk, leaning on his best friend (who wasn’t drunk at all). 

************

Clark couldn’t get drunk. He discovered that a while ago, when he was in college. When he told his friends that, none of them believe it and...drinking games started. 

There were Barry, Hal, J’onn, Bruce of course, Arthur and him (Clark didn’t have a lot of REAL close friends). They all got very drunk, as he kept chugging down more and more shots of whatever they gave him. 

The first one to go was Barry. They made sure he was safe in a taxi back to his home, calling his girlfriend to tell her to pick him up down their apartment. 

The second one was J’onn. Alcohol might be ineffective against Kryptonian, but oh boy did it work on Martians ! He almost blew his cover, turning back into his original form in the middle of the fucking bar, before he realized he probably had enough and left...somewhere (hopefully, home). 

The third one was Hal, and Clark had to take his Green Lantern ring away before a terrible accident could happen (or before he reveals his secret identity). They send him home too (the next day, they’d discover that he stopped the taxi in the middle of the way and wander around aimlessly the rest of the night...)

The fourth one was Bruce, but he refused to actually leave. He stayed and drunk some more. Terrible mistake. 

It took ages before Arthur finally got very drunk...Clark had to hold both him and Bruce all the way to Gotham docks. He must admit, he felt a bit guilty that he kinda threw Arthur in the sea without being very delicate, but he was starting to talk in gibberish and being overly annoying so...it had to be done. As soon as Arthur hit the water, he grabbed a few dolphins that carried him home (hopefully) while screaming “WOOOHOOOOOO” at the top of his lungs. 

And so Clark had to take Bruce back home...And here they were, in your living room. Bruce was still leaning against him and looking around as if it was the first time he saw the place, whistling, impressed, saying things like : “wow niiiiice carpet ! Guy who owns this place have good tastes”. 

After he explained to you what had happened, and after you and your family (who were watching TV calmly) went over the initial shock of your Bruce being drunk...You all started to laugh like crazy. 

Bruce joined, not really knowing why he was laughing, with a laugh that wasn’t really his (it was so ridiculous, and he kept burping throughout the entire time). 

Clark joined too of course, it wasn’t every day that he saw the entire bat family laugh like crazy like that, it was quite a sight. 

It took all of you a few minutes to calm down. After a few more explanation from Clark (how many drinks Bruce drunk (23...pretty impressive really, for a man who never drinks) and such things), the man was about to leave to go back home to his own wife and sons when something hit him all of a sudden : 

-Oh ! I gotta warn you (Y/N), he’ve been drunk for a little while and...well, it’s like he just gulped down some veritaserum or something !

You smirk at the mention of the imaginary potion that famed writer J.K Rowling created for her series of books : “Harry Potter”. 

You loved that saga, but would have never pegged the Superman to like it as well...He never mentioned it before ! Clark blushes slightly and, putting his glasses back up his nose a little bit mumbles :

-Damian lend Jon some of the Harry Potter books and he became so obssesed with it that I wanted to read them to to talk about it with him and that’s really not the point right now stop smirking at me like that (Y/N) !

You smile fondly at one of your best friend, genuinely thinking it was utterly cute that he would read seven books just to bond with his son (though, come to think of it...Bruce did it too, and he didn’t even like it !).

-No worries Clark. I love Harry Potter too. And...veritaserum ? You mean...

-I mean that you can literally ask him anything, he will answer it truthfully. At least...I think. I mean, he told us a few things that I don’t think he would ever make up so...

-Like what ? 

Clark blushes more than ever and turns his head away from you, readjusting his glasses once again. 

-Oh...N-Nothing. Not important. Ok gotta go bye ! 

And on that note, he flies away. Wayne Manor was isolated enough that it was completely fine for him to do that here but...his reaction makes you curious. You’ll have to remember to taunt him to tell you all about what Bruce said. You were pretty positive that you’d be able to “convince him” to tell you haha...

************

You and your sons go back to the living room, where you left Bruce alone the time to say goodbye to Clark and...He’s sitting calmly on the couch, as you approach him you realize that he’s commenting on the movie you were watching (the scene was frozen on Aragorn) : 

-I really don’t know why she thinks he’s so attractive but she does. My wife loves Aragorn. Or rather, she loves Viggo Mortensen. She made me watch all his damn movies, drooling over him and all. How can I compete against him ? He’s awesome in real life too ! Oh and in the movies...The movies are some of my kids’ favorites. They often watch it and...oh there they are ! 

He heard you come in and instantly stopped talking to himself (?????), smiling at all of you stupidly. He points at all of you individual, and says : 

-I love you. I love you. I love you too. And you, I love you. 

Once he’s done, he looks very pleased with himself and lean back against the couch, starting to sing the main thune of The Lord of the Rings. 

You approach him and before you can say anything, Jason goes :

-What do you really think of Superman ? 

Bruce looks at his son and his eyes grow big, shining a little, just like a little kid who just saw his hero. He straighten up in the couch and, facing the six of you (you, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass and Damian) he says : 

-He’s amazing ! Like he can lifts fucking buildings end very very big fucking rocks ! I mean, “freaking”. Don’t say fucking, kids, it’s a bad word. He can smell brownies made in Kansas from the League’s watchtower !! He can smell brownies from space ! He’s not the smartest ever, sure, but he’s so kind and nice and his hair are always flawless, like I take hours every day to make mine look decent, and he flies around the wind all the time and like his are perfect ! Fooooosh, flawless ! He’s a very good friend...hell no, he’s not a friend, he’s my brother ! I’m not even mad he slept with my wonderful and perfect wife, years ago, before we were together...I mean, I’d sleep with her too...

There’s a small silence followed by this little speech. Your sons don’t even take notice of his comment about sleeping with you. Broken by Dick : 

-Holy shit ! Uncle Clark was right ! It’s as if he’s wrapped in Aunty D’s lasso of truth ! There no way he would ever admit that Superman is that great otherwise ! I’VE NEVER SEEN HIM DRUNK ! I’M FREAKING OUT ! 

Your oldest son grabs your arm and pulls on it to bring you closer to him, putting his face really close to yours, and...Yes, freaking out a little bit. 

Tim and Damian are speechless and you...Well you don’t know what to do with all this. After all, there’s not a lot of questions you’d ask him since he’ve always been very honest with you. And you sense how dangerous all of this can be if your sons start to ask him things ! Tim, just to make sure, asks : 

-How do you like you coffee ? 

-Just like you my boy, double red eye, blackest of them all. 

Yes, this is all very dangerous if he only says the truth ! Sooner or later, they’ll ask him something that’ll be too much ! Each in turn, they ask him random things that comes through their mind, laughing way too much at the way their dad speaks and moves (so clumsy ! They’re not used to it when it comes to their father !) : 

-What’s your guilty pleasure ? 

-Watching cheesy rom-coms with Alfred. And putting ketchup on my rice.

-What do you think of climate change ? 

-Oh awful, awful thing ! 

-Do you think you’ll ever stop being broody ? 

-Absolutely no chance. Unless I get drunk every day, like right now, but then we’re replacing an existing problem with another bigger problem...

-Do you really like Alfred’s cucumber sandwiches or do you only act like you do not to hurt his feelings ? 

-I’m a great actor. 

-Between Diana and Clark, who would win in a fight ? 

-Diana would whoop his ass in an instant ! But Clark would still have flawless hair...

-Do you actually enjoy wearing costumes and three piece suits ? 

-Hate it, I wish I could hang out in pyjamas all day...

-Did you really like my cake ? 

-Yes, it was amazing. 

The next question, coming out yet again of Jason’s mouth, makes you cringe and is exactly what you feared :

-Who’s your favorite child ? 

Bruce looks at him and a horrified expression paints itself on his face : 

-Favorite ? FAVORITE ?! I don’t have a favorite ! How could I ? You’re all so amazing and perfect ! Not to be mistaken with your mother, my wife, who’s wonderful and perfect. It’s different, but still the same. You guys are all so beautiful. I love you all so much, equally, for real real. 

Jason pouts a little bit, though he’s secretly relieved. He’s about to ask another question but his father isn’t done. 

Bruce tries to stand up and fails miserably, falling back down in the couch and instead of going to them, he settles for pointing at them. He starts with his oldest : 

-You Dick, you’re my favorite because you’re everything I wish I was. You lived the same tragedy than me, you lost your parents at the same age than me, but you never became me. You never became that dark and stupid man I am. You’re a light Dick, you’re a light for everyone ! We’re all lost boats and you’re a very bright lighthouse ! ...Or...Rather we’re all lost people who are on a boats, I forgot the name of people who work on a boat...I know in French it’s “marin” but that’s it. We’re all “marin” and you’re our bright lighthouse Dick. I love you so much my boy. And I’m so proud of you. I admire you a lot too...My beautiful lighthouse ! 

It’s rare, that Dick Grayson is left speechless. Very rare indeed. But hearing his father outright say that he loves him like that is a first...Bruce’ve always had his own way of showing them he loved them, his own twisted speeches of telling them how much they mean to him, and this is a first...Well, he’s drunk after all. 

Your oldest son is kinda glad that his father doesn’t wait for an answer and turns to Jason, saying : 

-And you Jaybird, you’re also my favorite. My sweet and beautiful boy. I know you think I disapprove of everything you do but it’s not true. All I want, all I ever wanted, all I ever want for you is for you to be happy, to be able to live again...And I’ll always be there to support you, no matter what.I felt a part of me die with you when you were gone you know. You made me want to become someone better. I love you very much, and I wish you knew that. I wish you knew how much you mean to me. You mean everything Jason ! Everything ! When you died I thought...I thought I could never...I could never...thanks God your mom was there but I thought...it was impossible to...But then you came along Tim ! 

Jason does a very poor job at trying to hide the tears welling up in his eyes, and just like his older brother, he’s very glad that his father’s attention is deflected on someone else. Namely, Tim : 

-You Tim, you’re my favorite ! You arrived in a very dark moments of our lives ! You came not too long after Jason’s death, and neither me nor your mom wanted to...get attached again. It hurt to much to loose Jason...And yet here you came along, little eight year old boy knocking on our door telling us he figured out I was Batman ! You forced your way into your life and I’m so glad it happened. You helped us go through so much, and you don’t even know it !  You’re the smartest most brilliant man I know...Even smarter than me I think. I love you Timmy, I love you so much, and I’m glad you decided to take the “Wayne” name because with you, I know my parents’ name will be carried out well...With you too Damian ! 

Tim’s cheeks tint with red, and a stupid kind of smile appears on his face at his father’s words...Not even Damian’s little “tt” and smug face can break his good mood right now. 

But Damian doesn’t do his famous little “tt” and instead, is completely focused on what his father has to say :

-Damian you’re my favorite. You came such a long way since you arrive in our home ! I’m so proud of you, I’m so so so proud of you. You overcame everything you were raised to believe to become a better boy and...I know you’ll be a beacon for so many people in your life. You’ll change things, things I’ve never been able to change. Your compassion and passion is an example for everyone ! You’re so much more than you think you are, and you don’t need my approval...You’ve got it anyway. I love you my boy, and this will never change no matter what and I. 

Before he can finish his speech, and talk about why Cass is also his favorite...Damian lunges into his arms. 

For a few seconds, you wonder if Bruce isn’t going to throw up, as he becomes suddenly very white after the impact of his sons against his chest and belly full of damn alcohol...But them your husband’s arms wrap around his son and he sighs deeply, content. It’s only when Dick, Jason and Tim make a mocked “aaaawwwww” and join in the hug that they separate. 

Damian “Tt” them, and Bruce, too drunk to really be his stoic and serious self, just kinda...laugh and hit his thigh as if they made the most hilarious joke in the world. 

But even that drunk, he didn’t forget what he was saying. He turns to Cassandra and continues : 

-Cass, my only and oh so precious daughter ! You’re my favorite because you get me. On a level none other do. You’re an inspiration because despite the abuse you went through you never turned evil, despite what people forced you to do you’ve always been a hero. I love you so so so so so much, and you don’t have to speak for me to know that you’re the most perfect little girl a man can ask  for. My only precious daughter. I can’t believe how you’ve grown, there’s not a day that goes by without you surprising me by how amazing you are. I love you. I love you all. 

They don’t even know what to add to that. Hell, they even forgot to ask more questions even though it’s clear their father would answer them all...This is YOUR opportunity to jump in and stop this madness. 

Besides, it’s very late, you’re getting tired, and Bruce also needs sleep, a big glass of water and a miracle if he wants to not be too hungover the next day !  

You jump on the occasion that your children all have lumps in their throats and are too touched to think of anything else to ask to say : 

-Ok kids, time to go to bed. We’ll finish LotR tomorrow ! 

They don’t even protest. They don’t even whine to stay longer. They don’t even THINK of asking any other questions to their father who turned into a truth pit. There’s thousands of questions you know they could ask. Things to embarrass him. Things to satisfy their curiosity. Things. 

But they don’t. Exhausted. Both mentally and physically. Damn they weren’t ready for that ! They’re about to leave but their father is calling them back in, asking for a goodnight kiss and it’s just so...Weird. 

Usually, only you would demand goodnight kisses, their father would just...not really like it ? But maybe they were wrong ? Maybe he loved it ? Because right now, as he smooches their faces and hug them tight, it certainly looks like he’s enjoying it and oh it’s so strange how he keeps saying “I love you” every time ! Nice, but strange ! 

They leave with a last stunned look to their dad, who waves at them happily. 

A child. He looks like a tiny child. Maybe that’s how he was before his parents’ death ? Happy and carefree, loving hugs and kisses and not afraid to tell his feelings ? Maybe...

Finally you and Bruce are alone, and you turn to him, wondering how you’re gonna manage to bring him all the way up to your shared bedroom...

************

After ten attempts at going up the stairs, resulting in Bruce almost breaking his neck and you bruising your sides...You decide against going back to your bedroom and instead go fetch a few blankets and pillows to settled down in the living room couch. 

You take Bruce’s shoes off...or try to, as he grabs you by the waist and crush you against his chest. 

-Did I tell you I love you today, my wonderful and perfect love ? 

-...Yes...Yes a few time already, you’re squeezing me baby. 

-Oh, well that’s a change. Usually you’re the one squeezing me. 

You roll your eyes at his not-so-subtle sex reference and pull away from him a bit. He looks at you intently, his eyes delving deep into yours, staring, love and awe shining in his pupils. 

-I love you, (Y/N).

-Yes I think you’ve said that a few times.

-But I really do ! And I’m not saying that because I’m drunk. I really, really love you. You’re the best. You’re genuinely the best. Without you, I couldn’t endure everything that happens. I couldn’t raise our children. I...I couldn’t live. Without you nothing makes sense. You’re my everything. You genuinely are. You don’t even know it, but you’re the reason I function. I love you so much (Y/N), I love you so fucking much. 

-Broosh...

-Can I touch your boobs ? 

-I’m...Wait, what ? 

-Your boobs, I really like them, can I touch them ? 

You roll your eyes once again. Well, so much for a romantic declaration uh, the mood is ruined, as his drunk self takes over a little bit. You’re about to tell him to shut up and sleep but...oh the puppy eyes. 

He dares to give you puppy eyes. And so you crack and say : 

-Sure. Sure Bruce, you can...touch my boobs. 

In a childish manner, he giggles and happily slide his hands under your shirt, all the way up to your boobs, and just hold them, as you’re now laying on him. 

-I really like your boobs. So soft and squishy. I love them. Almost as much as I love the rest of you. I love you, (Y/N). 

-I love you too Bruce. 

You can’t help but smile, as you feel your eyelids fall heavy...

************

The next morning, all of you are extra careful not to wake Bruce up, as he’s heavily sleeping (and snoring, which happens rarely) in the living room. 

When he finally emerges, he looks absolutely awful and...

“Note to self : Let’s get drunk a bit more often, it’s nice to be taken care off like that”

He thinks, as you guys take great care of him all day. He doesn’t really remember what happens, but...he guessed he didn’t make a fool of himself too much ? 

The End. 

__________________________________

Just a shitty short story I guess...Sorry, It’s rushed and bad, I wrote this in twenty minutes, at 11 pm, after a long day of working and I’m suppose to wake up at 4 am to go back to work so...Not in the best shape, yet wanted to write something blahblahblah and since I finished it might as well post it blah I’ll shut up now or I’ll start pointing out everything wrong with this shit.

[commanderquill]

Anything Can Be -- Part Three

<< PART TWO

<< PART ONE

Summary:  Barry doesn’t know much beyond the space station he calls home. After all, he doesn’t have to travel worlds to help innocent people as a Chief Inspector. But he’s put to the test when a Green Lantern, the stuff of myths and legends, shows up one night insisting he didn’t kill the woman bleeding out beside him. And as if that wasn’t hard enough, they have only a few weeks to solve the case – before the Guardians of the Universe come take Hal Jordan away.

Hal Jordan hates cages.

Metaphorically and literally. In the case of Central Space Station’s holding cells, it’s literal. A jail must not have been anywhere in the original structure plans because instead of an actual cell, he’s been locked up in a cage that’s in a room with multiple other empty cages. Hal is absolutely certain there’s a grid-like pattern carved permanently into his ass.

It’s cubed like the fences around the perimeter of Ferris Air, but it doesn’t give even a little when he presses his palms against it. He feels like a dog. The cage is just a few inches taller than the top of his head -- if he jumped high enough, he’d give himself a minor concussion. But it’s not even as wide as the length of his body, and he has to sleep diagonally across it just so he isn’t forced to curl his knees up.

He’s having a hard time reminding himself that he’s not in a sex trafficking ring.

Probably.

No one’s bothered taking the yellow hand sheaths off yet. They’re probably hesitant -- he still has his ring on underneath, and all he needs is a moment free to be out of here. He wants to say that he wouldn’t just bust out of jail given the chance, but even he’s not too sure about that, so he can’t even begin to make an argument to convince them of it. Still, it’s inconvenient at best and disabling at worst. He’s almost lucky there isn’t anything to do in a cage with nothing but a small mattress and a bucket, because even if he had a laptop right in front of him it’s not like he’d be able to properly use it. He’s had an itch on his thigh for an hour.

It’s a little unnerving to him that these people know about a Green Lantern’s one weakness at all, but he figures it’s probably necessary for other ‘good guys’ around the universe to know after...

Doesn’t mean he has to like it.

And yet, even pondering questions like that aren’t enough to keep his mind off of what he saw. Suffering from absolute boredom like this, with nothing but his own thoughts for company, forces Hal to keep revisiting the image of Sister Sercy’s body lying prone across the metal floor of her dorm wing. The way her white robes looked, steeped in blood. The way--

It isn’t the first time he’s seen this sight.

Far from it. In fact, he can go as far as to say that he’s used to the image. But he’ll never be fully detached from the emotions it evokes -- all he can ever do is distract himself with bigger and more pressing things. Otherwise, all the sights and smells threaten to overwhelm him.

He didn’t know her very well. When he thinks about her, nothing really comes to mind except the battles they fought together, shoulder to shoulder, back to back. Dependable, but not familiar.

Her death impacts him the same way as any stranger’s death does. A vise gripping around his lungs, a fist permanently semi-closed. But he can still breathe. He can still think.

That doesn’t mean the horror ever truly goes away. All it means is that he can function enough to find the real predator, to bring justice to each person so terribly wronged by life as much as he can.

He doesn’t always succeed. These days, it feels like he rarely does. He--

The door opens.

Hal fights the urge to spring to his feet in relief. He’s slipped down this train of thought too many times already, he doesn’t need to do it again. He quickly rearranges himself so he looks as relaxed as possible, laying on his side with his cheek propped in one hand by the time the door makes it all the way open.

“Thank you,” is the tail end of Barry Allen’s response to someone unseen as he walks into the room. He raises his eyebrows at Hal. “Enjoying your luxurious stay?” he asks.

“Honestly. You should’ve seen the state of the motels on War World. Compared to that, I call this five-star service.”

Barry doesn’t take the bait. Hal swings his legs off the mattress and sits, dangling his arms over his knees. Time to get down to business then. “What’s the news, chief?”

“I’m not the chief,” Barry immediately responds as he comes to a stop beside the cage.

Hal would never say that Barry doesn’t take his job seriously, he maybe takes it the most seriously out of everyone Hal has seen so far in this god forsaken place, but Barry might be the only one truly on his side. It makes him trust him, even if he probably shouldn’t.

Of course, Hal’s entire impression of the man could just be his charm turned up to max, but he somehow doubts that anyone would crank up faux charm to impress a supposed criminal. If banter and altruistic declarations are how Barry Allen treats a potential murderer, he can’t be that bad of a person.

Most likely.

Likely.

Hopefully?

It really depends on whether Barry thinks he’s actually a murderer, come to think of it.

Also, it’s probably in the job description. Get friendly with the prisoner, butter them up, the works. He vaguely remembers a kid in college ranting to him about how no matter what, the police are never your friend.

Hal wishes he’d listened to that. It sounds like solid advice.

“I came to tell you that I pulled some strings,” Barry says. He gestures to the room. “This place can’t be comfortable. The real chief agreed to see you for the possibility of bail.” There’s a chair propped against the opposing wall. Barry grabs it, drags it over beside the cage, and sits down.

Hal stares, waiting for the punchline. It doesn’t come. “Wait, seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“The hell you do that for?” Then, before Barry can answer: “Nevermind. Don’t answer that. I’ve been trying this all ‘be grateful’ thing out lately and I really just want to get out of here. Now please, please tell me you have a key. I feel like I’m losing my mind.” He gets to his feet and braces his covered hands against the cage. He only realizes after he makes the motion just how desperate he looks, but there’s no taking it back now. He kind of is actually really very desperate. But only a little.

He’s trying not to be incredibly suspicious of Barry’s good intentions. The suspicion is definitely warranted, but it’s not exactly helpful.

Barry doesn’t look at him with the warmest or friendliest of expressions. There’s a very healthy note of caution and apprehension at Hal’s eagerness, but he seems to take it in stride. “I don’t. One of the guards will take you to the courtroom in two hours. You’ll have to answer a few questions, but if all goes well, you should be free to help clear your name soon.”

Hal slumps back onto the bed. Just a few more hours. He can do this. He’s gone through much worse. He takes a deep breath. “Great. Cool.” A pause. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“This is probably a good a time as any to ask,” he begins, looking up at Barry before he has the chance to leave. “But do you actually believe me?”

A contemplating expression graces Barry’s face. “I’d rather not tell you that.”

Fair. Not confidence inspiring, but fair.

“See, look, I get that. I really do. But the reason I’m asking is because I’ve gotten into some super weird situations, and I’ve discovered that there are a lot more places out there who would sooner hire a killer than condemn them, and I’d just like to be sure you’re not taking me out on bail to ask me to kill your boss or kill me yourself or something like that.”

Barry’s lips twitch again. He’s fighting backa smile, which Hal thinks is an achievement. But just as soon as the expression appears, it’s gone. “Are you saying you get arrested often?”

“I’d rather not tell you that,” Hal says, mocking Barry’s earlier words.

“And what would you say you get arrested for most often?”

“Never said I get arrested. Just said I’ve been to some mean places.”

“Dodging the question looks worse for you than answering,” Barry points out.

“Trespassing,” Hal eventually replies. No need to push his luck. “And just being an overall pain in the ass. My boss’ words, not mine.”

“Not quite the murderous type, then.”

Hal moves backwards so he can sit on the lumpy mattress, relief blooming in his chest like a breath of fresh air after being submerged. “So you believe me?” He can’t keep the smile off his face. Does he actually have someone on his side?

Barry side eyes him. “You’re smiling too much for someone who’s suspected of murder.”

A deflection. He’s totally on his side.

Probably. Maybe.

Hopefully. He’ll stick with that one. Hope is the companion to willpower -- he can work with hope.

“It’s a defense mechanism,” Hal replies immediately. Normally he wouldn’t admit that, but he can’t afford to scare his only possible ally off. “Also, I totally have a reason to smile right now.”

He’s found that he always seems to function better under pressure. This day will pass, and so will the high stress situation he’s found himself in, and when it’s all said and done he’ll end up in a room alone in the middle of the night like he always does feeling like his heart is trying to jump out of his chest, like his lungs are filling with water, and like the vast universe is pressing down on him from all sides.

But not yet.

He has a few more hours, at least. Depending on how quickly he’s let out of this cage. He can’t let himself fall apart when his surroundings are bright enough to see his hands. That’s no time to let his thoughts strangle themselves. If he can see himself while pieces of him shatter, he’ll never be able to forget how often it happens.

“Well, I like to think I’m not prone to helping people get bail unless I’m reasonably sure they deserve it,” the other man replies, leaning forward in his seat. “I know this justice system inside and out, which means I know that this system is more likely to convict someone for the sake of closing a case than guilt. You’re the only suspect. I can build the the strongest case to convince the chief, but it doesn’t matter unless the evidence can point to a specific different someone. I’ve been trying this long to make sure innocent people don’t fall victim to the system, I’m not going to stop now. If there’s any chance you’re innocent, then you need to work with me to find another suspect to bring this as close to a fair trial as possible.”

Hal isn’t surprised. “A lot of places are like that, you know. Don’t think this is my first rodeo.”

“It isn’t right,” Barry says firmly.

“Most normal things aren’t. What can you do?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but the look on his face makes it so Hal doesn’t doubt that the man thinks about it constantly.

“The question you should be asking is: Where am I going to start?”

His first impression was right. Altruistic.

Very few of those in the universe these days, especially with one of the few Blue Lanterns dead. Even the Green Lanterns can’t seem to keep up with that trait…

Hal shakes the thought from his head before it can continue down that yellow-paved road.

“So. How does court go in this place?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you said yesterday that I don’t have the right to an attorney, so I bet things are a lot different than what I’m used to.”

Barry frowns. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to compare it to,” he admits. “But for the actual court scene, you’ll be standing in the center of the room. There will be the witnesses, the head CSI for the case, occasionally the head of their department which will be me, and any other significant individuals that might be involved. There could be a few experts on certain topics, for example. Or for personality profiling, if you know of anyone who’ll speak on your behalf. In any case, the head of the department will present the case, the CSI will present details of evidence, everyone else presents their side of the story, and the chief asks some questions. Then everyone but the guards and the defendant leave, and the chief gives the verdict and sentence.”

Hal stares, waiting for more. It doesn’t come. “That’s it?”

“Yes? What else were you expecting?”

“What about the jury? What about my defense? Defense attorney, prosecutor? Why is the chief also the judge? Who’s supposed to argue my case?”

“You. And the evidence speaks for itself. There’s no… arguing. How do you argue facts? Why shouldn’t the chief act as judge?”

“Oh god,” Hal says, despair leaking into his voice. “I’m so screwed.”

He puts his head in his hands, and he can almost feel the confusion emanating from Barry at this distance. He tries to compose himself somewhat, so he can look up and ask some more questions. He needs to keep his head in the game; he can't afford to let go while he still doesn't know his situation down to every detail. It takes a while longer than he wished it did.

A trial without a jury.  It sounds like every dystopia he never bothered to read back in high school English class. Some unbidden memory from some graduation required Political Science class tries to tell him that a judiciary not separated from the executive powers is the trademark for a corrupt government.

He's never getting out of here.

"Why are you here?" Hal finally asks.

Barry appraises him for a moment. "I'm interested in your case," he says. "Also, information like this is always best delivered in person. It's faster and things don't get muddled in the process."

"Don't you have better things to do than worry about me?" This is despite the fact that Hal is extremely glad Barry has an interest in his case. There's no way he'd be getting out of here otherwise. Probably.

Although, he's done impossible things before.

It's actually becoming somewhat of a routine at this point.

“You’re my priority.”

"In other words, you have nothing better to do than worry about me. Great, someone needs to," Hal says. "My mom gave up years ago."

Their conversation stops abruptly, and Hal is convinced that’s it. They hang suspended in an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then Barry asks, “Where are you from?”

“Coast City.”

When there’s no reaction on Barry’s face, he clarifies: “California.” There’s still no reaction. “Uh, Earth.”

There. Surprise washes over his face and stays there. “Earth? That’s a long ways away. I didn’t think many people still lived there.”

“Yeah, not everyone likes space. Which is a damn shame, if you ask me.”

“Are legal proceedings very different there?”

“Super,” says Hal. He frowns. “You have no idea how corrupt this system is, do you?”

Barry raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “You’ve been here for one day. I’d say you’re both biased and uninformed on that subject.”

“I think I’d have a heart attack if I saw more. Sure, you know that just because I’m not the only suspect doesn’t mean I’m guilty. But first of all, according to what you said earlier, one single person still decides another person’s fate, and they have absolutely no opportunity to fight for their case unless they’re incredibly educated. Second of all, who’s to say the Chief of Police is always impartial anyway? They have absolute power, and that never remains neutral. And third of all”--here, Hal pauses to gesticulate angrily around him--”your jail cells are fucking cages! Even you have to admit that’s wrong, on so many levels.”

Barry’s lips thin. He looks unhappy, and Hal can’t decide if it’s because of what he said or how he said it.

“Have you really never been to Earth?” Hal asks, because he can’t even fathom that. He spends all his time in space, and yet he always tries to fit in some time for home, even if it’s just a flyby. He’s traversed the universe, and yet there’s nothing quite like the way the Pacific Ocean sparkles under California’s noonday sun.

“No.” Hal wants to ask more, ask where he grew up if not where all humans belong, but then Barry’s lips quirk. “I suppose trying to get a personality witness is a bit of a long shot, then.”

Somehow, this came full circle back to the case. He squints. Never trust a cop. Has Barry been searching him for information this entire time? It’s hard to tell.

He opens his mouth to give some anecdote about not having any friends left planetside, but stops short. Maybe this is what was meant by trusting cops. His guard is already down. A detail like his inability to maintain stable relationships isn’t information remotely necessary for a Chief Inspector to know, and could only hurt his image. So he keeps his lips sealed and just nods, letting the awkward silence descend over him.

Barry turns on the tablet he’s had in his hands the whole time, and it makes Hal slightly nervous since he doesn’t know what he’s writing on it. It soon becomes apparent that he’s messaging someone, and after a few minutes go by with no conversation, he settles back for the long wait.

Hopefully that hearing comes soon.