Superboy / Kon-El (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
matchmadeinhell) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ya_assemble2015-05-12 12:15 am
matchmadeinhell) wrote in ya_assemble2015-05-12 12:15 am
Entry tags:
Superboy Smash! [locked to Danny]
For all the amiable home-cooked fried chicken dinners Kon had in him, he had a whole world of issues he was working through right now. But that was okay. He was dealing with them. Rather than talking to someone about his problems (because who was there that was qualified? Harley Quinn? Ha!) he just spent a lot of time thinking about them. Working through them on his own.
The training room was a good place to vent. Lots of enchanted robots to beat down while he mulled things over in his head, a way to work out his aggression - which he had lots of when he thought about this stuff and the people that'd hurt him.
Of course, that meant the joint always looked fairly trashed whenever he was done, until the enchanted cleaning robots swept through and fixed it up good as new. They tended to Mary Poppins the place a bit.
He usually worked himself to (relative) exhaustion when he was like this, pushing the myth healing to its limit.
And that meant that afterward he usually laid down on the matted floor, breathing almost meditatively, as he worked things out in his head. The calm was nice. It was a growing thing, almost alive, something that was starting to lay down roots to create a more pervasive sense of peace in his life.
His superhearing meant that he heard the man at the door before he even opened it. The second it was open, he said, "I'm almost done with the room. Just some post-fight chilling."
He peeked over.
"Oh hey, you're new."
The training room was a good place to vent. Lots of enchanted robots to beat down while he mulled things over in his head, a way to work out his aggression - which he had lots of when he thought about this stuff and the people that'd hurt him.
Of course, that meant the joint always looked fairly trashed whenever he was done, until the enchanted cleaning robots swept through and fixed it up good as new. They tended to Mary Poppins the place a bit.
He usually worked himself to (relative) exhaustion when he was like this, pushing the myth healing to its limit.
And that meant that afterward he usually laid down on the matted floor, breathing almost meditatively, as he worked things out in his head. The calm was nice. It was a growing thing, almost alive, something that was starting to lay down roots to create a more pervasive sense of peace in his life.
His superhearing meant that he heard the man at the door before he even opened it. The second it was open, he said, "I'm almost done with the room. Just some post-fight chilling."
He peeked over.
"Oh hey, you're new."