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@robinofthered-blog
Oh my God. Tim, it’s a hyper-…bole or something. Because I never want to associate Batman with the holy art of s e x ever in my life.
..And you say school is useless.
And though I don't think I would venture to call it... "holy", I can understand the remainder of your point.
hawai'i ke aloha
"That was then, this is now," Kon insisted, beating back the feather duvet. He clambered out of the mess of over puffed blanketry, brushing himself off.
"Well that’s reassuring," he continued, fixing Tim with a clever look. “Because your best friend wants to skip unpacking and go to the beach. C’mon birdboy. I hope you brought that scaly green speedo, because it’s hot outside."
His shoulder shrugged. "Well, even so, it seems you're still fine. After all, you've surfaced from the feathery depths." Emphasis on feathery for the way Conner had to brush himself off as soon as he had crawled from the blanket that had enveloped him nearly completely.
Everything that followed should not have been a surprise in any way, and i wasn't. Even so, he couldn't help from being at least a bit flustered at the topic that had resurfaced to gain attention once more. "No.. Definitely not. As, again, I will remind you that they were never part of my uniform!" And yet, for whatever reason, Kon's fascination with it was something that Tim didn't believe would fade.
I’m not gonna explain, man. It almost killed me to say Batman and dick- not Dick, y’know- er, the actual thing- in the same sentence.
And while you’re at it, calculate the ratio of you to your shadow or something, because that’s gonna so enrich your life.
I believe you're just being over-dramatic again, unless words have started to contain kryptonite.
Ah, no. You're definitely continuing with the drama.
It's a Twisted Story, Really
The police arrived in a flurry of squealing tires and strobing crimson lights. With or without his interference, they would plod through their usual routine of alerting citizens and setting up a perimeter. Damian needn’t concern himself with speaking to them. He was Robin. No GCPD officer would entertain a moment’s thought of hindering the Dark Knight’s most celebrated protgée in action.
A perk inherited with the mantle.
Turning his back on the bustling cops, Damian shot a grapple and flung himself after the quivering line. He darted across roofs and hurdled balconies for the next several streets, surveying every direction with night vision goggles for any sign of their quarry.
A few minutes passed combing the streets in such a manner, before he paused to light his tracking beacon for Drake. If the aggressed sounds of his counterpart’s engine had been any indication, he should be arriving very shortly.
An unexpected rush a adrenaline flooded his veins as a fleeing bulk a block away caught his attention. Wasting no time, Damian cleared the gap to the next building in an exuberant leap, and gave chase.
Through the streets of Gotham, Red Robin sped by with practiced precision. He passed vehicle after vehicle before much notice could be taken, and he was little more than a blur to those within their cars, and those who stood watching on the sidewalks. These were the few, and always short, moments that the citizens got to see their heroes at night. They flew off to protect Gotham and it's citizens. They rarely knew of the threat before it happened. Tonight, a few would if they had listened to the news as they picked up on the surely leaked story that Professor Pyg was once again, loose on the streets.
It wouldn't be for long.
A soft, but notable, notification sounded from his comm as the screen on the dashboard of his bike lit up. The screen began to detail a single point on the map of Gotham that had populated. It seemed that Damian finally wished to share his exact location for their rendezvous. So with a strong rev of the engine, he spurred his bike on at faster speeds. He hardly wanted to hear any more of Damian's complaints on his arrival time than he absolutely had to.
As he sped on, he noticed that the blinking beacon was no longer stationary and had likely taken chase of something, or someone, of interest. He wouldn't bother with three guesses as to who it was. "Robin." He called over the comm line. "Have you located the target?" It felt like the question was unnecessary, and he would not have been surprised if he was immediately mocked for it. "Do not engage. My arrival time should be T-5." And again, he spurred his own vehicle on, feeling more pressure to waste as little time as possible. After all, he hardly believed Damian would listen to a single word he said.
It's a Twisted Story, Really
Damian was so far lost in his tumultuous aggression, that Drake’s terse voice crackling overtop of the police feed admittedly startled him.
He let the comm hang in dead air for one heartbeat… two, stifled breaths through his nose, before he decided yes. Yes, he would grace him with a response. As wildly irritating it was, his predecessor was essentially arguing a higher moral ground: Professor Pyg was too much of a threat to be playing these petty games.
They had both been trained for this. The faster they got this done, the faster they could part ways again, anyway.
As a final outlet for his anger, Damian roughly jerked the R-cycle into a 180 pit stop, knowing the screech of tires would sound through the link, even if the hot scent of burning rubber did not.
“I’m at the entrance of Castor Park, Red Robin. I’m ditching the cycle in lieu of high ground.”
He was confident his implied ‘let’s not waste time with niceties because we both know how meaningless that would mean by this point’ rang perfectly clear.
Two grappling lines later, he was atop the first Castor skyrise and tuning his night vision goggles for a certain swine.
The loud screech of the tires brought his eyes to narrow and his shoulders to tense in the slightest cringe from the high pitched noise. Despite being used to the sound, somehow it seemed to be easier to deal with in person. Perhaps it was that it was not being directly broadcasted to his eardrum and threatening to split it in half. Of course, above anything else, he knew that Damian had done this on purpose. There was no room for doubt on the matter. In fact, he assumed the boy was at least somewhat disappointed that he couldn't do more to add to that one "shot".
But, surprise surprise. The kid seemed to be actually giving in, actually complying, actually somewhat willing (okay that was probably a huge stretch) to work with him. But no matter how he said it inside his head, it still didn't make sense and was still absolutely baffling. He supposed he understood the logic in the matter that brought Damian to agree, but he had honestly expected him to fight tooth and nail to make sure they did not team up.
Nonetheless, it was a pleasant turn of event. Well, "pleasant" may have possibly been a stretch as well. The two of them would still be working together, and it would be in no way easy.
"En route." He responded then, striding across the room in a rush to his own bike, pulling up the cowl and starting the engine. "Stand by." With that final comment, he tore from the cave and met the streets of Gotham at high speeds. He would be at Damian's location in a matter of minutes.
I’m not Batman, so hearing “genitalia” instead of “dick” doesn’t do anything for me.
See? Alls you need is simple addition and subtraction and you are aye-okay.
.."Do" something for you?
Uh right. SUre. Whatever you say, Conner. But I still stand by my opinion.
“Genitalia.” Fuckin- geez, Tim.
Yeah simple stuff like “I used one batarang so that leaves infinity left in my belt.”
What? That's exactly the issue here.
/Sigh. Yeah. Of course. Perfect example there, Conner.
How am I being unreasonable!?
And how do you not see how not having a problem with triangles is messed up?
By thinking that genitalia and stick figures would be acceptable to your art curriculum.
Because, generally, math is a part of daily life.
hawai'i ke aloha
“Case and point, I need saving,” Kon yanked his makeshift habit over his eyes, falling backwards with a WHUMP.Pillow jumped on the mattress, spilling onto the floor.
He struggled to find air again, bursting from the folds of the blanket and eyeing Tim with a neutral look, that bordered on challenging. “Well… since you’re not denying it, I guess I’ll take it.”
"You seemed to be fine just a moment ago, you know." An eyebrow rose and quiet chuckle left him in response to the dramatic display. "So insistent on being a damsel in distress... Jeez, Kon." And he chose to force himself to give keep from giving too much attention to the pillow that found itself upon the floor once more.
"Ah, see? You survived again." But he noted the look that was being sent his way and paused, wondering. "Why would I? I mean. I don't see much point in wanting to change my best friend." Or, he was sure, that would defeat the purpose.
Fine. I’ll forgive your lack of creativity this time, bird boy. But only because I like you.
What, you don’t think so?
This time, it isn't even about a lack of creativity. It's about your new level of unreasonable.
No, I do not.
No. I’m taking art. And suffering for it. Apparently stick figures and dicks are not appropriate subject matter.
Well I’m concerned over your lack of hatred for math. So that makes us even.
...There are many things I could respond with but honestly I'll just settle for shaking my head because you're so unreasonable.
..Of course you would think so.
hawai'i ke aloha
“I didn’t mean to!” Kon protested, shoving himself out of the black hole created by the puffy depths of the pillows and comforter. But every time he pushed the comforter down into submission, it reinflated itself. Finally he gave up on it, huffing slightly. “Ack. Whatever.”
He leered at Tim’s obvious embarrassment, whipping the blanket up over his head, like a nun’s… headdress… thing. He pulled it snuggly over his hair and batted his lashes sweetly at his best friend. “Oh, so you’re saying you like me just the way I am. Swooooon, Tim. You make my heart go all pitter patter.” Kon wasn’t quite laughing at his stiff of a bffl.
Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. And this was exactly why he had made the comment of being surprised that the Super had not broken the bed. He seemed to forget the extent of his strength at the most... interesting times. Allowing his hand to drop back to his side, it was moments before it rose to cross with the other and rest with arms crossed over his chest. "I suppose you are, possibly and metaphorically, drowning in the down and blankets."
"Is that what you got from what I said?" He shrugged. "If that's what you want to take from it, that's fine, I suppose."
(grumbles) Sure seems like it.
And yeah. That. (disdainful)
/Sighs. Please tell me you're taking drama. That would be the easiest boost to your GPA, ever...
I'm concerned about the level of resentment you're showing for a mathematical theorem.
hawai'i ke aloha
“You kidding?” Kon’s eyes went wide. He tugged on the comforter for emphasis. “You could drown in this downy stuff.” He tugged again.
Riiiiiiiip.
He wasn’t particularly torn up about ripping the blanket (pun so totally intended), since all of the cost would bounce back to Luthor. On that principle alone, actually, Kon was sorely tempted to up the ante, in the area of property damage. But that might make Tim’s OCD shoot straight outta the upper stratosphere, so, better not risk it.
“You saying those boobs ruined me, Timmy?” Kon fixed up his Boy Blunderful with a hard stare, trying unsuccessfully to channel some of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s Batglare. “Because you had a thing for those boobs.” He amazed himself. Keeping a straight face and talking about Steph’s boobs (and the whole body swap thing) was no easy task. The corners of his lips twitched.
"I find that highly un--" Cutting himself off, he just looked at the meta after he had torn the blanket. Eyes eventually fell shut and he just sighed, raising a hand for it to run back through his hair. "..Why did you just rip the blanket?" He only hoped it would not be given the reason of something like he had been offended by the blanket for the risk of drowning in the down stuffing.
Which, really, he would have preferred that subject to where they were straying now. It made him learn, for the umpteenth time, letting his guard down even in front of his best friend was a foolish idea. He felt he was punished for doing so each and every time he fell into a moment like this. As he felt the threat of a burn against his cheeks and upon his ears, he dragged a hand down his face and willed the strength of patience to come to him. Otherwise he would become sorely tempted to test his friend's earlier claim of the risk that came with down.
"I suppose I am." He replied evenly. "But my... choices of back then really do not have any bearing on your claim of having a girlish figure."
Fair enough. I know it can be pretty stressful. But the rest of that statement is a bit over dramatic, I’m thinking.
..And I’m also thinking that is an awful idea considering it’s important and helpful. You’ve got summer coming up. You can “not do” school for those three months, but please tell me you’re going back in the fall.
Is it though? Is it really? Seriously, I’ve used my fists to defeat evil more than the stupid Paragon Theorem.
Going to school isn't about defeating evil. And unless I'm missing something, do you mean the Pythagorean Theorem?
I’m probably suffering from school stress. I go to school and a little bit of my soul cries out and dies. But the good news is, I’m thinking that I’ve found a solution.
I just don’t do school anymore.
Fair enough. I know it can be pretty stressful. But the rest of that statement is a bit over dramatic, I'm thinking.
..And I'm also thinking that is an awful idea considering it's important and helpful. You've got summer coming up. You can "not do" school for those three months, but please tell me you're going back in the fall.
hawai'i ke aloha
“Wow, so put on my tombstone: dead because Red Robin isn’t around when you need him. Way to be a hero Rob,” Kon tutted. Pillows and comforter shifted, and the Super’s head poked out of the fluffy mass. He blew an errant feather out of his hair. Then he batted his bangs out of his eyes. He better cut ‘em before they started forming that annoying spitcurl that was just waiting to happen.
“Is that a fat joke?!” Kon stared at Tim with mock horror. “I’ll have you know I’ve worked very hard to keep this girlish figure.”
"I didn't realize I would need to play hero and save you from... bedding." He spoke with amusement that was soon accompanied by a smirk that rose from seeing Kon's head pop up from the mess of pillows and the messy comforter. As he rid himself of the offending feather and messed with his bangs, it made him notice how long his hair had gotten, by Conner's "new" standards. Though it still had nothing on the length of his hairstyle from their YJ days.
And an eye roll was the easiest, most natural response to the drama with which the Super chose to respond. "Mhm." He raised an eyebrow, giving silent question to the response itself. "Being a girl, for any amount of time, has completely ruined you." Picking a pillow up that had landed not far from his feet, he tossed it onto the end of the bed.
