searching for cabeswater

kintsugi

(n.) the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold, highlighting the flaws of the mended object; also, an aesthetic characterized by embracing imperfection and treating healing as an essential part of human experience

[raven] boys, come find me

Imagine if one day you were given a choice: Become immortal and indestructible for eternity, unable to be harmed by anything ever again, and get to live forever.

However, in order to achieve that you must give up whatever your purpose in life is. Whatever it is that you were always meant to do, what you were supposed to contribute to the overall scheme and future of the life of the universe, your purpose… the whole reason you were even created, even born in the first place. You must give that up. You don’t know what that is. You’ll never know; But, regardless, you say yes.

Perhaps you assume you wouldn’t have made any sort of significant difference anyway. That butterfly effect theory or whatever they call it? Nah, you call bullshit. It doesn’t matter - you don’t matter, at least not to anything outside of your immediate connections - and it’ll all be fine, and you’ll just live forever with minimal (or maybe even no) consequences.

So, yay! You’re now immortal. You’ll never die or get hurt ever again. Wee!

But then, centuries and centuries later (not to mention that by this point you’ve gone through horrible heartbreak and misery and despair because every loved one you ever had, every friend you ever made, ever person you barely got to know, has passed away, died as you lived on long without them, helpless to do anything for them as you watched them perish, unable to ever go with them or ever see them again. But I digress), now, you learn you actually were important in the grand scheme of things. You were supposed to be a key factor in the world’s survival, long ago; but, because of the choice you made (immortality over individual purpose), you were never given the knowledge or awareness or resources or ability to save the world that you were always supposed to obtain, before you unknowingly made the wrongest choice to ever wrong.

Needless to say, you’ve fucked up big time.

The entire universe as we know it is destroyed soon after this horrifying revelation. It implodes, collapses in on itself, essentially forming a massive black hole or something. Stars, nebulae, galaxies, solar systems and planets, worlds and worlds of living people and things, and light-years of time and space and life, all sucked up into absolute, indefinite nothingness.

But you remain.

Just you. Floating amongst, spiraling around, rocketing through, suspended in… nothing. With a feeling of such unbelievable loneliness that your feeble brain can hardly perceive, can’t possibly hope to comprehend. Not only are you the only living thing left, you don’t even have one inanimate object to keep you company. You have literally. Nothing. And you are literally nowhere. I mean, technically, you are now the universe - if it would bring you petty comfort to think about it that way. You. Only you. With nothing, no one, nowhere. Forever. And ever. And ever.

All because you thought you didn’t matter. That you had no real, meaningful purpose. That you could never possibly make a difference.

But you did. And now look what you’ve gotten yourself into, you silly nugget. You’re gonna be pretty bored and lonely for that eternity, huh?

Or maybe it was out of selfishness. Maybe this wasn’t because you felt useless, but because you simply only cared about prolonging your own life and nothing else. Hm.

The moral here? Be selfless, and always know and remember that you matter.

Or else, one day, you might destroy the universe. And be left to suffer, and be tortured horribly and endlessly by the void of nothingness that has consumed you. With no way to escape. Ever.

Other moral because I got sidetracked from my initial point - all things considered, would you choose longevity over purpose? Immortality over meaning? 

OR, IDK, MAYBE SOME IDIOT JUST LAMINATED A STUPID PIECE OF PAPER TOWEL FOR NO GOOD REASON

AND MAYBE I SHOULDNT BE LOOKING FOR THE ANSWERS TO THE MEANING OF OUR SHORT, FRAGILE LIVES IN

A LAMINATED

PAPER

T OW E L

IDK MAN,

and the pages of that book

were made out of

laminated

*connecting ping*

Jason: i spy, with my little eye, a little Robin that is slacking off,

Tim: the fuck...?

Damian: wait what- where are you?

Jason: ten o'clock, two buildings over.

Damian: *a slight pause* oh you stalker, what are you doing out of the alley?

Jason: catching you lacking, apparently.

Tim: the hell is going on over there?

Jason, amused: kid's hidin' behind an AC unit so he can ditch patrol and go on his phone.

Damian, pointedly: that's not what i'm doing, actually, so you can mind your own business,

Tim: you're not even supposed to have your civilian phone on you during patrol, it's a security risk. and where the fuck did B go?

Jason: oh he's in this call, he's just got us on mute.

Damian: he was questioning a couple gang members so i left. he'll notice soon, i'm sure, just like he'll soon notice his phone is missing.

Tim: his phone?

Jason: oh my god you stole Batman's phone- hold on, i'm coming over there, hold on.

Damian: well he didn't listen to his own rules regarding the subject, so i figured he deserved to suffer at least a little bit.

*wind whooshing* *boots against concrete*

Jason: *laughs* holy shit you have his actual phone-!

Tim, admiring: how did you get it unlocked?

Damian: i have a note in my own phone with all of your passwords written down from when i look over your shoulders and memorise them.

Tim: what-

Jason, amused: what are you doing with it?

Damian: well i was just going to hide it and make him experience supreme anxiety by thinking his personal possession is lost somewhere in the streets of Gotham, but he's been annoying me lately so i've kind of been doing... this.

*a beat*

Jason: *wheeze* NO WAY,

Tim: wait what- what's he done?!

Damian: i've been doing this for a while, actually. i just delete the evidence afterwards so he can't find out.

Jason: *weeping* you- you've done this before...?

Tim: WHAT'S HE DONE?

Jason, struggling to keep composure: he's- he's texting people as Bruce--he's text Clark,

Tim: what?! what's he said?

Jason: he- *wheeze*

Damian, slightly amused: do you want me to read it out?

Jason, weakly: please,

Damian: i, uh- *amused throat clear* i found a photo on the internet of a close-up on some man's inner thigh, showing a mole. it's not indecent in any way, it's just... slightly too intimate.

Jason: *wheezes again*

Damian, over him: -but it matches Father's body type, so i sent it to Superman. and then i said 'do you think i should get this checked or just see what happens? it's new, which i know might be concerning, but Batman's survived way worse than a mole, right?'

Jason, high-pitched, crying: -so weird,

Tim, incredulous: ...WHY????

Damian: i told you; because he can be annoying.

Jason: *still laughing*

Tim: yes but why THAT specifically?!

Damian: well that's the game, isn't it? it has to be odd, but not such a red flag that Kent instantly thinks Father's phone has been hacked. weird, but in an abstract way. it also needs to be enough of a none-issue that i can delete the interaction off this phone before i slip it back into Father's pocket and Kent won't think it's alarming enough to bring up again.

*brief pause*

Tim, in disbelief: dude, why have- why have you thought this out so much- how many times have you done this?!

Damian, sighing in consideration: well, when i first came to Gotham i had a few anger issues, i guess--inherited from biological donor number three, i'm sure,

Jason: -i resent that-

Damian: -and this was a good way to let off some steam without being grounded for attempting to kill anybody. when i first started i had to be careful, because Kent had a very specific view of Father. but over time i believe i've desensitised him somewhat.

Jason: do you just text Uncle Clark every time?!

Damian: no, i don't always attempt to embarrass Father. sometime i just use him as a medium to make other people suffer.

Tim, horrified: please tell me you've never texted me as Bruce.

Damian: no, i've never needed to, we have the fight pact. when you piss me off i just fight you.

Jason: healthy.

Damian: i got Dick pretty bad, though.

*connecting ping*

Dick: B, i need you.

Jason: speak of the devil.

Tim: oh he's been muted for the past like, twenty minutes. you need back up?

Dick: oh, no, i just needed to remember the name of one of my old middle school teachers and thought he'd know because it's really pissing me off that i can't remember it.

Jason: the fuck do you need to know that for?

Dick: brain-worm. anyway, what are we on over here?

*silence*

Damian: nothing important.

Tim: no fuck off- Damian's stolen Bruce's phone and he's texting people pretending to be him 'to make people suffer'.

Damian: Timothy i will fucking fight you.

Dick: -YOU HAVE HIS PHONE?! that's fucking hysterical, who's the target?

Jason: *pointed* currently, Uncle Clark. but he's not the only- hooly shit Clark's typing. he's typing- he's fucking typing.

Tim: oh my god,

*silence*

Jason: *abrupt cackling* NO FUCKING- *wheeze* NO WAY-,

Damian: oh my god- oh my god wait,

Tim: what the fuck did he say?!

Jason: *still cackling*

Dick: YOU CAN'T LEAVE US LIKE THIS!

Jason, struggling to breathe: GOD- Uncle Clark is the best on earth,

Tim: THE FUCK DID HE SAY?!

Jason: he- *wheeze* he's said- *cough* 'it doesn't seem abnormal, however if you'd feel more comfortable with a friend rather than a doctor then i could always x-ray the spot next time i see you to check for any growths underneath the skin.'

Tim: GOD, HE'S SO NICE?

Jason: *cackles*

Dick: what the fuck did you tell him!?!

Damian: all i did was send a photo of Father's new thigh mole.

Jason, crying: oh god- i love him,

Damian: sh, sh, i'm trying to concentrate,

Jason: what are you- WHAT ARE YOU RESPONDING? HE'S RESPONDING AGAIN.

Tim: Dami- *wheeze* Damian,

Damian: *snickering* ok how about that?

Dick: read it out read it out read it out.

Jason: uh- 'i think that would be helpful for the next JL meeting, but if you could-' *long, painful wheeze*

Tim: WHAT?

Jason: *not breathing*

Damian, calmly: 'but if you could do it discreetly, without me having to be pulled aside; i'd rather not cause speculations about why we would need to meet privately. you can just do it during the meeting.'

Jason: *whimpering*

Dick: oh, my, fuck.

Tim, struggling to keep his voice level: w-wait, so he's- so at the next Justice League meeting Clark is just gonna be there subtly trying to- *wheeze* trying to stare at Batman's inner thighs,

Jason, through choked weeps: -just on his own special little mission,

Tim: his own- *collapses into laughter*

Dick: Damian that's- that's fucking diabolical.

Tim: dude what does Bruce even do to you to deserve this stuff?!

Damian: yeah i should- i should probably clarify that i do love my father,

Dick: *instant cackle*

Damian: like i- *slight wheeze* i do- it might not seem like i like him,

Jason, crying: i can't- oh my god my side hurts,

Damian: i do love him, i just- sometimes he's a hypocrite, and he needs this.

Tim, matter-of-factly: God sent you to test this man, he knew- God knew that somebody needed to check Batman before he rose to complete power, so he cobbled together all of our essences and poured it into a new vessel to keep him firmly grounded on earth, and that vessel is you,

Jason, still laughing: that's true- when i was up there i had a private conference with the guy just like 'you know he's starting to get out of control, right? i was doing my best but the Joker got me, so what's the plan?' and God was like 'don't worry, Jason. i have plans. you have been chosen to bring my prophecy to fruition. like Mary with Jesus, you will bring fourth a solution.' and the solution was this.

Tim: *cackle*

Damian: not even close to the worst thing i've done to anybody with this phone, by the way. what i did to Dick was objectively way worse.

Dick, laughter stopping abruptly: -wait what?

Jason: yeah what did you do to Dick?

Dick: YOU'VE DONE THIS TO ME?!

Damian: ...you're joining from Bludhaven, right?

Dick: w-?!?! YEAH? WHY?

Damian: ok then that's far enough away for me to tell you.

Tim, amused: holy shit what'd you do?

Damian: he annoyed me. he promised to take me to the museum, and then he cancelled so he could go on a date.

Dick: you- YOU SAID YOU WERE FINE WITH THAT.

Damian: i lied. so i text you from Father's phone and told you that for the medical files in the Batcave it was imperative that you provide a recent and up-to-date record of your sexual history and amount of partners you've had overall. we argued about it for a while, but eventually i wore you down and you agreed to put one together.

Dick: WHAT.

Jason: *loud cackles, increasing in pitch*

Tim, in awe: holy fuck.

Dick, genuinely distressed: DAMIAN- I GAVE THAT RECORD TO HIM IN PERSON,

Jason: *abruptly deflates* Y-HES, OH MY GOD YES CHILD,

Dick: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK- THAT WASN'T HIM?!! OH MY GOD HE WAS SO CONFUSED WHEN I HANDED HIM IT--HE LOOKED AT ME SO WEIRDLY,

Jason: *losing his complete shit*

Dick: DAMIAN!

Damian, unapologetic: next time remember bros before hoes, what can i say.

Dick: THAT'S NOT AN EQUAL REACTION. WHAT THE FUCK.

Bruce: interrogation complete; Robin where have you disappeared off to?

Dick: I'M GOING TO END YOU DAMAIN-

Tim: *wheezes* you might have- you might have missed a few things, B.

Bruce: i wasn't even muted for that long- what's going on here?

Dick: I'M KILLING YOUR ONLY BIOLOGICAL SPAWN, THAT'S WHAT.

Tim, morbidly curious: i've actually never seen Dick this mad at Damian before, this is kinda impressive.

Jason: *struggling to breathe* no- no kid come here- *wheeze* i'm gonna- i'm gonna- come here, let daddy protect you, i'm so proud of you kiddo,

Damian: yeah i'm sticking with you for the next few days. keep Grayson away from me.

Jason: i love you more than anything, habibi, i got your back,

Bruce: what on earth-

Dick: FUCKING- JASON? HE NEEDS TO HAVE CONSEQUENCES.

Jason: not for this, this is amazing. i'm taking him, we're out. sucks to be you, Goldie.

*2 disconnecting pings*

Dick: *scream of frustration*

*disconnecting ping*

*silence*

Bruce: ...what did Robin do?

Tim: i am... not answering that.

*three seconds of silence*

Bruce: did Hood actually just refer to himself as Robin's 'daddy'?

*a beat*

Tim: um. yeah that's- that's new slang. it's from the- it's a league of assassins youth thing. don't question it.

Bruce: ...i am not touching that.

Tim: good choice.

*silence*

Bruce: shit, where's my phone?

Tim: -i have to go.

damian: ...what

bruce: sorry i mean jason,wait no, dick. uhm Stephanie, i mean tim, no wait duke. alfred? no uhm barbara. wait ace.

damian:thats our dog father

bruce:alfred pennyworth the cat?

damian:

bruce: damian, i mean damian.

damian: leaves.

bonus!!:

bruce whos been awake for 56 hours: cass can you pass me the case file?