#Ethics of Jazz

[omegaphilosophia]

The Philosophy of Jazz

The philosophy of jazz is a rich and complex topic that encompasses the cultural, social, and musical dimensions of jazz as an art form. Jazz is not only a genre of music but also a way of thinking and being, reflecting values such as spontaneity, creativity, individuality, and community. The philosophy of jazz explores these themes, often connecting them to broader philosophical questions about identity, freedom, expression, and the nature of art.

Key Themes in the Philosophy of Jazz:

Improvisation:

Spontaneity and Creativity: Improvisation is central to jazz, emphasizing the importance of spontaneous creation and the ability to express oneself in the moment. This process challenges traditional notions of composition and performance, highlighting the dynamic interplay between structure and freedom.

Philosophical Reflection: Improvisation in jazz can be seen as a metaphor for life itself, where individuals must navigate unpredictability, make decisions on the fly, and adapt to changing circumstances. It reflects a philosophy that values flexibility, responsiveness, and the capacity to create meaning in real-time.

Freedom and Expression:

Artistic Freedom: Jazz has often been associated with the idea of freedom, both musically and socially. Musicians are encouraged to express their unique voices, experimenting with form, harmony, and rhythm. This freedom of expression is a core philosophical value of jazz.

Social and Political Dimensions: Jazz has historically been a voice for marginalized communities, particularly African Americans. It has been a medium for expressing resistance, resilience, and the struggle for civil rights. The philosophy of jazz, therefore, often intersects with discussions of freedom, equality, and social justice.

Individuality and Community:

Balancing the Individual and the Collective: Jazz is both a highly individualistic and a deeply communal art form. While it celebrates the unique contributions of individual musicians, it also depends on the interaction and collaboration within the ensemble. This balance reflects a philosophy that values both personal expression and collective harmony.

Dialogical Nature: The interplay between musicians in a jazz ensemble can be seen as a form of dialogue, where each musician responds to and builds upon the others' contributions. This dialogical aspect of jazz fosters a sense of community and mutual respect, where each voice is heard and valued.

Innovation and Tradition:

Respect for Tradition: Jazz has a deep respect for its roots and traditions, drawing on blues, gospel, and earlier jazz forms. Musicians often pay homage to past masters while exploring new directions, creating a dialogue between the old and the new.

Philosophy of Progress: At the same time, jazz is characterized by its constant innovation and evolution. The philosophy of jazz embraces change, experimentation, and the breaking of boundaries, reflecting a commitment to progress and the exploration of new possibilities.

The Blues Aesthetic:

Emotional Depth and Authenticity: The blues is foundational to jazz, bringing with it a philosophy that values emotional honesty, resilience, and the ability to find beauty in adversity. The blues aesthetic in jazz emphasizes the expression of deep, often painful emotions, and the transformation of those emotions into something meaningful and uplifting.

Existential Reflection: The blues, and by extension jazz, often grapples with existential themes such as suffering, loss, and the search for meaning. This reflects a philosophy that acknowledges the complexities of the human condition and the power of music to address and transcend those complexities.

Time and Rhythm:

Philosophy of Time: Jazz’s approach to time and rhythm, with its syncopation, swing, and complex rhythmic patterns, reflects a unique philosophy of time. Jazz often plays with the conventional understanding of time, stretching, compressing, and manipulating it in ways that challenge the listener's expectations.

Temporal Experience: This manipulation of time in jazz can be seen as a reflection on the fluidity of time itself, offering insights into how we experience and perceive time. It highlights the possibility of multiple temporalities coexisting, resonating with broader philosophical discussions about the nature of time.

Cultural Identity and Global Influence:

Jazz as a Cultural Expression: Jazz is deeply rooted in the African American experience, and its philosophy often engages with issues of cultural identity, heritage, and the diaspora. Jazz reflects the blending of African, European, and American musical traditions, creating a unique cultural expression that speaks to issues of identity and belonging.

Global Impact: Jazz has become a global phenomenon, influencing and being influenced by musical traditions around the world. The philosophy of jazz includes an appreciation of this cross-cultural exchange, recognizing the music's ability to transcend cultural boundaries and create a shared human experience.

Ethics and Aesthetics:

Moral Dimensions: The philosophy of jazz also includes ethical considerations, particularly regarding authenticity, integrity, and respect for the music and its practitioners. Issues such as cultural appropriation, commercialization, and the role of the artist in society are relevant to philosophical discussions about jazz.

Aesthetic Values: Jazz challenges traditional aesthetic values by embracing dissonance, irregularity, and complexity. It often defies conventional notions of beauty, proposing instead an aesthetic that values the raw, the real, and the unexpected.

Jazz and Existentialism:

Existential Themes: Jazz, particularly in its emphasis on freedom, individuality, and the search for meaning, shares affinities with existentialist philosophy. Both jazz and existentialism explore the human condition, the experience of alienation, and the quest for authenticity in an uncertain world.

Living Authentically: Just as existentialism advocates for living authentically in the face of an absurd or indifferent universe, jazz musicians often strive to find and express their authentic selves through their music, creating meaning through their art.

Jazz as a Way of Life:

Philosophy in Practice: For many musicians and fans, jazz is more than just a genre of music—it is a way of life, embodying a particular attitude toward life that values creativity, spontaneity, and the pursuit of excellence. This philosophy encourages living in the moment, embracing uncertainty, and finding joy in the process of creation.

The philosophy of jazz is multifaceted, touching on themes of freedom, individuality, community, creativity, and cultural identity. It reflects a way of thinking and being that is deeply intertwined with the music itself, offering insights into both the human experience and the nature of artistic expression. Jazz philosophy encourages an open, responsive, and innovative approach to life, celebrating the beauty of improvisation, the richness of diversity, and the power of music to connect, challenge, and inspire.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 23

still a bit ill so this chapter's late, but we're racing towards the conclusion of the panama arc! Woohoo!!!

MASTAPOST

An entire day passed by in a haze. Damian continued to refuse to speak to Danny. They passed through coral reefs, shipwrecks and uninhabited islands, each teaming with beauty and vibrant sea life. Damian remained listless. At a certain point, Danny even tried to coax him into seeing a pod of orcas passing by. The child shook his head, and growled.

Past a certain point, the kid was barely even eating. Even as Danny passed him bits of seaweed and sargassum, Damian only nibbled on them over the course of hours.

They swam over the second coral reef they’d seen that day. Danny’s eyes passed over sea horses, clownfish and a whole pod of jellyfish. Damian slept clinging to his back, although it didn’t make much of a different, having not spoken a single word since the whaling boat. At least he was resting.

Somehow, he felt even guiltier than when he was speaking and guilt tripping him back in the reefs around Amity.

It had been days now since he was home. Suddenly left without a conversation partner for long stretches of time, Danny felt his mind wander to scary places. He pursed his lip, careful not to chew it with his sharp teeth. An old question reared its ugly head. What would he tell Bruce Wayne when they got to Gotham? Damian seemed to think it wouldn’t be an issue, but the kid was ten (or six now?). Danny didn’t know if he could live with himself if he took away his companion’s family on top of everything else.

And Danny’s family? He shuddered to think of how he’d explain his weeks’ long absence from home. His parents have probably been going crazy over his disappearance. Even with their habit of getting easily distracted, there was no way they hadn’t noticed it. He prayed that they would just assume he ran away. Unlikely. It would be less surprising if the returned to Amity with a million and one new inventions to fight and hide from.

A treacherous stray thought crossed his mind. Bruce Wayne did have a reputation for taking in troubled kids-

No. It would never happen. Not after failing to save Damian, and returning him a wreck of a traumatised child.

Maybe it would be better if he disappeared into the ocean…

These thoughts trampled over his poor heart for hours, and hundreds of miles. What did he do? What didn’t he do? What will he do and what won’t he do next? What could even be done? The answer stabbed needles in his throat. At the moment: nothing.

All he could do was keep swimming.

Jazz looked over the SAV’s radar. Internally she was panicking. She’d done all she could, endured hours of stress directing her parents and Bruce Wayne away and distracting them and slowing them down. But they still kept getting closer, and Jazz didn’t know if she could do anything more without tipping the elders off and risking everything.

Even now, Danny was within five hundred miles of them, and at the rate they were going, they’d catch up within a day. The autopilot hummed as it drove the boat. She texted Tucker on his secure server. What could they do now?

Jazz looked up at the night sky. She raised her hands, and traced constellations. She recited stories Danny would tell over and over again, and then the new stories he made up once the old ones got boring. He stopped doing that when he came back, irrevocably changed.

She recalled the story of Herakles. How Zeus conceived him with a mortal woman and slighted Hera, queen of the gods. How Hera rejected Herakles for what he represented: Zeus infidelity, and tried to have him killed.

The parallels were startling to her. The hour of confrontation fast approached, and she still could not tell what would happen, or what she would do. Would her parents show mercy to someone they saw as a monster, as no different from Aunt Alicia’s murderer and Great Uncle Jack and Great Great Grandma Wlikes and so on and so forth? Would Danny be cast away, his blood spilling into the water like the Milky Way?

Jazz sighed, and retreated to her room. As she went below deck and passed the hallway, harsh whispers slithered out of the door around the opposite corner, left slightly ajar. The light was on. Her parents’ and Bruce Wayne’s shadows shifted over the light.

Jazz tip-toed, heart pounding in her chest. She put her hand to her ear, and her ear to the door.

“I’m saying we need to be analytical about this.” Came Bruce Wayne’s hushed voice. He sounded like he’d been talking for a while now.

“That blob of ocean magic animated by post-human consciousness and possibly also negative emotions ripped our boys away from us, and probably sold them off somewhere for them to be used as- used as- I don’t even know!” The shadow of her mother threw her hands up. It was the same speech as ever. Her parents were stubborn. That was where she and her brother got it.

“And if we don’t interrogate him the right way, then we’ll lose them forever. Don’t you understand that?”

Her parents went still.

“Mads, I think Brucie’s got a point.” Her father’s voice lowered an octave, a stark contrast to his usual jovial shouting. Jazz had to shake herself. What was Bruce Wayne doing?

“Jack?”

“Phantom’s taken big hits before. What happens if tearing him apart doesn’t get him to squeal? We’ll be back at square one.”

“But if we threaten him first, then we can use that as bargaining chip.” Bruce Wayne continued.

Her mother was breathing heavily. For a moment, she said nothing.

“There’s another thing, too.”

“What is it, Brucie?”

“We have much more we need to learn from Phantom. What his motives are. What his species’ motives are. You said so yourself Jack, that you haven’t caught a single siren ever. Has anyone?”

Nobody had. It was something her parents had been pursuing for years. The first scientists to capture and study a live specimen. That was what they wanted. What did Bruce Wayne want, and what was he getting at here?

A spark of hope inside her told her it was because he was sympathetic. He wasn’t directly opposing her parents’ views, because doing so never made someone change their minds. He was going with their flow, subtly redirecting them towards more constructive ideas.

Hah! What a joke…

“He’s right, Mads. There’s so much we don’t know.”

“I know…” Her mother whispered, her voice breaking at the last syllable.

“There’s… another thing.” Bruce Wayne began, speaking slowly. “I have a source from Atlantis. They sent a report of a Phantom sighting a few hours before you approached me.” Jazz’s heart chilled. Billionaires really did have their pockets in everything, didn’t they?

Chairs scraped. “What? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It didn’t have any information that was either relevant or new.” Bruce Wayne hummed. “By the time the report arrived at my inbox, Phantom was already long gone, and your radar was already providing that information.”

“Then why bring it up now?” Her mother asked, always discerning.

“The report mentioned a second siren. A young boy. The report mentioned he looked about six years of age.”

Her parents went silent again. Jazz’s eyes widened. There was only one person that she thought of that Danny could be travelling with, and that was a turned Damian. Perhaps the report only saw them from afar, and misjudged his age?

“So he’s got a tiny accomplice??”

“Jack, we don’t know what-”

“Actually, Jack would be right. The child was assisting Phantom in pillaging at least two Atlantean outposts.”

Her mother growled, muttering a string of swears. Her father sat down again, chin in his hands, something he only did when he was in serious thought. “We didn’t even know for sure if there were siren children out there.”

“Jack.” Bruce Wayne stressed. “I’m bringing this up because whatever we are going to do to Phantom, we leave the child out of it.”

“But the research we could conduct-”

“Where’s your code of ethics?” Bruce Wayne’s shadow made a cutting motion.

Her parents’ shadows went still.

“How can our sons look us in the eye if we tortured a child, even an inhuman child, to try and save them? Whatever crimes Phantom has committed, this child hasn’t been a part of them. He may be just as much of a victim as Damian and Danny.”

“Bruce, the sirens have been responsible-”

“I’m keenly aware.”

At this point, Jazz decided to make her presence known. She poked her head in, putting on a light voice and a sleepy expression. She fake-yawned. “Guys? It’s getting very late. We all need to be up bright and early.”

“Oh, sorry Jazz. We were just talking about what we would do once we capture Phantom.” It seemed her mother didn’t mind her being privy to such a conversation, which meant the location out of the way was Bruce Wayne’s choice.

Jazz ran her hands down her hair. “For what it’s worth, I think the possibility of interviewing and surveying a child siren might give us an opportunity to investigate and potentially isolate the effects of nature and nurture. How much of the violent behaviour displayed by sirens past is due to their cultural upbringing and how much is caused by natural instincts? We could learn so much.”

Her mother hummed. She could tell by her face that she was considering her words. Jazz pressed on.

“Look, whatever happens, I think we need to reserve judgement for this new siren until after we’ve met him. We don’t attack baby lions just because adult lions are dangerous to humans, right?”

She looked to Bruce Wayne. She couldn’t read him. Jazz felt ill for what she was about to say, but she knew how futile it was to express her real beliefs, and try to push back an avalanche. “And maybe we can save the child? Teach him to be better than his violent peers, and educate him to be kind and accepting like us humans are.” Like she hoped her parents could be.

That got her parents attention. Jazz told herself it would all be worth it. It would be worth the nausea she had for saying something so utterly vile wrapped up in a cute bow.

She ignored the strange look Bruce Wayne gave her, and excused herself. She needed to have a cry. Catharsis would be good for her. Even if the underlying problem still writhed beneath her skin, fraying the bond between her and her parents.

She was so distracted she didn’t even use the opportunity the heated conversation gave her to sabotage the boat. What kind of a sister would this journey reveal her to be? What kind would her parents be revealed as?

Night settled as an eerily quiet day of swimming went past them. Danny scurried into a small cave for shelter. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Damian got off his back and shoved himself into the far end of the closed space, curling himself into a tight ball, back turned.

Danny unpacked the supplies one by one, alone. He passed a strip of kelp to Damian. The small siren’s fins remained rigid, like they’d been all day. Damian yanked the strip from Danny’s hands without a word.

Danny stared at the boy’s back. The words he needed still hadn’t come. They still slipped away whenever he tried to search. No pathway of apology seemed right in his head, so he pushed it back.

“It’s a nice night out.” Danny rubbed his wrists. “Clear skies. We can still see the North Star. Funny how we’ve gone south for so long, but we won’t be crossing the equator at all.”

Danny looked back to see if anything changed. Nothing did. “We’ll be in Panama soon. Probably in a day. Hopefully the GiW won’t be able to track our location enough.

He gave up soon after. He passed strips of plant life and watched as Damian silently took them. When Damian finished one batch, Danny passed him another. Once dinner was done with, all he had to do now was sleep, and dream. And think of the families that each missed them.

Damian shivered. His fins rattled from the motion. Danny crawled closer, reaching his hand out, waiting for permission.

“Do not touch me.” Damian whispered, voice still hollow. Danny’s heart took another wound, but he nodded regardless. He took a sack and emptied it, and draped it over Damian’s body. The rest of the night was spent tossing and bending his fins, and then in fitful sleep.

[habeshawubet]

[hood-ex]

Heya Emily! Hope you're doing well.

I actually had a recommendation (if you already haven't read it!)

Gotham Adventures #44. Dick's, like, super IC in it! Bruce's being his usual horrible self but I still like the way he's written here as opposed to main-continuity comics, even if his characterisation is basically the same! It's the narrative.

PLUS, Dick ! Being! IC! I just loved Dick in this one. A very short appearance but I JUST LOVE IT!!!🥰

There was actually a lot to dissect in this one issue. Spoilers ahead for anyone who wants to read it.

Loved how Dick immediately decided to save the baby even though he knew it might kill him (and it did).

I was mentally screaming when Tim started administering CPR because all I could think about was that he didn't have anybody there to relieve him should Dick's heart not restart quick enough. Then I couldn't stop thinking about the time Cass had to give Dick CPR.

Batman: Family #7

Loved how this issue showed Bruce's guilt by displaying side by sides of Dick and Tim in and out of costume during the flashback that Bruce's guilt was anchored to. Tim, shocked/appalled that Bruce was leaving when Dick just went into cardiac arrest. Dick, dead on the ground. OOF.

Loved how Tim was pissed over the fact that Bruce didn't seem to care about Dick's well-being. He was understandably upset on Dick's behalf, but there was probably also a part of Tim that made him think, if Bruce thinks Dick is expendable then he must think the same about me.

Crazy that Bruce asked Dick to come help him despite the fact that Dick had just been brought back to life. Definitely IC for Dick to answer the call because he knew Bruce wouldn't ask unless it was an emergency.

The fact that Dick was lecturing Tim on the ethics of the situation mid-fight?! Asakljdhak. I felt bad for Tim because he was just trying to look out for Dick, and from his point of view, it didn't look like Bruce cared about Dick at all. And, sure, anyone would be horrified by a father leaving his son behind in that situation, but from a logistical standpoint, Bruce chose the option that had the best chance of saving both Dick and the civilians, and Dick knew that (even if, deep down, he might have felt hurt by Bruce's decision).

Interesting how Dick seemed fine with Bruce's decision and even justified it by saying that his own life wasn't more valuable than anyone else's... and yet... when Alfred told Dick that he had no doubt that Bruce had been racked with guilt over his decision to leave Dick behind, Dick responded by saying, "Thanks, Alfred." And idk Dick's expression was kind of ambiguous, but I almost wonder if he said, "Thanks, Alfred," in a grateful/relieved/comforted type of way. If Dick was truly unbothered then you would think he would've responded with something more akin to, "Bruce has no reason to feel guilty, he did the right thing." Buuut that scene didn't give us enough to work with to really pinpoint Dick's feelings so meh.

But brooo... the ending with Two-Face taunting Bruce about leaving Dick behind... and Bruce clearly feeling conflicted/guilty about what he'd done... damn.

Exploring this aspect of Bruce's mission and how it affects his kids is faaar more interesting and compelling than the majority of the crap DC pulls with Bruce and his kids these days.

[heavencasteel420]

Switching between my WIPs does lead me to contemplate which has the most horriblest Lonnie.

[nctrnm]

#NowPlaying: "Small Steps, Giant Leaps: Episode 121: Towards a Lunar Code: The Artemis and Ethics Report Explained" by NASA

[kucherovv]

how do you even learn a band instrument as an adult idk. i wish i had utilized the 5 years i spent in band at school more effectively it was a bit stupid to like. completely throw that time w/ a free instrument and a family who tolerated it away. if i could go back i would do it differently7 and also probably play trombone from the start instead of euphonium

[quill-of-thoth]

So Gregor Mendel (yes, the guy with the pea plants) wrote down that he wanted to be given a thorough autopsy after he died. The year he died was 1884. Autopsies were increasingly common at the time, but Mendel was an Augustinian friar and the arguments preventing donating your body to science for teaching autopsies, research, etc. were theological. The “ethical” source of teaching cadavers for doctors to autopsy was (in many places) the bodies of executed criminals, as a sort of post-mortem punishment.  Mendel became a monk specifically because he couldn’t afford to study otherwise, even after one of his sisters donated her dowry to the cause. He did too well as a monk to continue his work as long as he wanted: he got promoted to Abbott and the last sixteen years of his life were spent doing administrative work, and his experiments weren’t properly replicated, or examined as a viable alternative to then current theories on inheritance, until 1900. But he chose to donate his body to science (which he loved) and be of material benefit to the field of medicine, which he didn’t practice but two of his nephews did.  There’s just something beautiful about a guy who lived through the era where having your body dissected was the height of dishonor, in an institution that had advocated against the practice, deciding that anything that helps humanity as a whole was worth doing. There’s something just as beautiful about the fact that he was exhumed for genetic sequencing on his 200th birthday - usually we don’t just dig people up and grab their genes as a surprise party, because in addition to it being a lot of work we can’t assume they would have appreciated it, but Mendel? He would have been jazzed. 

[astyrra]

oh thank god, this cd with the handwritten label “[my highschool] big band cd” is not actually a recording of 15 year old me

[keferon]

So I had ideas for Mecha Pilot AU while reading some of the things that other people have sent and those ideas turned into this!

Enjoy some Hot Rod shenanigans!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It starts when Hot Rod catches First Aid trying to smuggle a metal sheet out of the base. 

Well, no, it really started when the higher ups said that Jazz, allegedly, stole a half put together experimental mech unit. Which, Hot Rod would like to point out, makes absolutely no sense. Jazz is smart. If he was going to steal a mech, he’d wait until it was completely built and fully functional. No, there was something else going on and it had something to do with those strange upgrades that a few of the mechs got. Jazz had taken one look at them and booked it. 

Then immediately stole a half made mech that was completely covered in the stuff. 

All of this happening after he had been gone for months before mysteriously returning. 

Point is there’s something going on and it started with Jazz.

Presently, it has something to do with First Aid and the hunk of metal he’s carting around. 

The hunk of metal that looks like that strange upgraded plating. 

“Sooo…” Hot Rod says as he looks the other pilot over, “We stealing now?”

“No, I- this is- Vortex is up next for the-.”

“Nah man, you’re fine.” Hot Rod walks over to the back of the cart and places a hand on the metal. “I’m game for whatever we’re doing, I just want to know if we need to be sneaky.”

“It- what? We?”

“Yeah.” Hot Rod smiles and tilts his head to the side, like this was a given. “So, we stealing?”

First Aid gives him a look that’s a cross between befuddlement and scrutiny. It’s one he gets often, but the newer pilot seems well practiced with it. A solid eight out of ten honestly.

“This isn’t for profit.” First Aid says slowly. “And this isn’t for me.”

Hot Rod’s smile takes a slightly more feral edge. “Even better.”

_._._

Apparently Jazz has an alien robot boyfriend and the higher ups were using parts of his body for upgrades. 

Very morbid, but sadly not surprising.

They need to get as much of the original frame as possible back to Ratchet as that would make repairs easier. 

They’ve apparently been getting a lot of the pieces that had already been on other mechs through “collateral damage”.

First Aid had shrugged, “It’s not my fault if an upgraded mech gets between Vortex and a monster.”

The real tricky bits to get were the ones still on base and being tested. Which, for some reason, included an entire oversized thumb.

An oversized thumb he and First Aid are trying to sneak out from under Shockwave’s nose. 

“The rest of the hand was in random parts of the base.” Hot Rod mutters. “Why did the thumb need to be in such a secure area?”

“Complain louder. I don’t think the bugs heard you.” First Aid sasses in a hissed whisper. 

Hot Rod shivers at the reminder of Shockwave’s “helpers”. Knee high robots with four legs and a hexagonal face. They would’ve been cute had their singular yellow eye not reminded him of the eerie visage that is now the scientist's face. Shockwave used them to help in his work but to also keep an eye on his lab and the surrounding hallways. 

“Don’t even go there, Aid. You’ll end up jinxing-.”

His warning is interrupted by a faint skittering from around the next corner. 

“Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap.” Hot Rod looks around frantically before shoving himself, First Aid, and the thumb into the nearest door.

It turns out to be a closet. What kind of closet? Hot Rod doesn’t know and he refuses to find out. While it could be a normal supply closet, he’s not taking the chance that it could also be storage for strange and dubiously ethical experiments. 

So Hot Rod crams himself into the small space while keeping his eyes entirely focused on the door as he closes it. He and First Aid hold their breaths as the skittering of the bug gets louder, comes right in front of their hiding spot, then continues on without pause. 

They both let out sighs of relief and Hot Rod sets his forehead on the door. 

First Aid makes an inquiring hum. “There’s a vent in here. Think the thumb would fit?”

“Oh no.” Hot Rod says, face still against the door. “Do you have any idea how loud that would be? We aren’t dragging a large metal thumb through the metal vents and destroying our hearing with the echoing screeches.”

“Well, what do you propose we do then? Take it out the front door?”

_._._

“That never should have worked.” 

“You should never underestimate the power of looking like you know what you’re doing while carrying a box.”

“That never should have worked.”

Said large and long box holding the alien robot thumb sat innocently in the back seat of Hot Rod’s truck. 

_._._

“We need a movie for Rachet and Drift.”

Ratchet, who is helping Jazz repair Prowl, gives Hot Rod that “befuddled and scrutinizing” look that everyone seems to give him (A definite ten out of ten for Ratchet; truly a professional in giving out looks to others). “What?”

“Well, yeah! We’ve got Ratatouille for Jazz and Prowl. Aid and Vortex got a reverse Ratatouille-.”

“How’d you hear about that?” First Aid demands.

“Tailgate.” Hot Rod answers easily, then turns back to Ratchet to continue his previous thought. “So now we need to think of a movie for you and Drift!”

Ratchet’s eyes narrow in the unspoken promise of bad things to come. “No.”

Hot Rod, being the one who got a mech that catches on fire and made it work, takes Ratchet’s look as a challenge. He snaps his finger and points at the older man “I got it! ‘The Iron Giant’.”

Ratchet scoffs, rolls his eyes, and gets back to working in the alien robot’s arm. 

“What?” Jazz protests, while keeping his main focus on the internals of Prowl’s arm, “Iron Giant? Really? That’s a loose connection at best and you know it.”

“Oh? And do you have something better?” Hot Rod playfully challenges. 

“Dude, ‘Lilo and Stitch’ is right there.”

“How is that any better than mine?”

“Because War Crimes McGee here,” Jazz gestures to an amused looking Drift before getting back to his work, “is a better fit for Stitch than the Iron Giant any day of the week.”

Jazz may have a point, but while Hot Rod’s mom may have raised a fool, she definitely didn’t raise a quitter. 

“So Ratchet here tells Drift all about ohana and kicks off his character arc?”

“Not everything's one to one, Roddy. I’m not using Prowl to become the best chef is Paris. You just don’t want to admit I’m right.”

“I agree with Jazz.” First Aid cuts in. 

Hot Rod gives him a mock glare. “You’re just saying that so you won’t have to agree with me.”

First Aid shrugs. “True, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

“Children. The lot of you.” Ratchet grumbles. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

And yeah! Ideas was mostly ‘Hey, they could probably have Vortex get pieces of Prowl back since fights like that are bound to be very chaotic and Vortex would have no hang ups about attacking allies every now and then’

It went further as the idea of Hot Rod and First Aid trying to do spy things and be sneaky but somehow succeeding due to Shenanigans was too funny to pass up XD

Loving this AU so far and all the cool stuff people are making for it!

OMG THE CHILDREN ARE STEALING FROM THE BIG CORPORATION IM SO PROUD OF THEM~~

Also the way all these different plot lines are crossing each other and occasionally coming together is just so cool I love it

Like, yeah we have fucked up horror, we have space drama, we have Lilo and Stitch aaaaand we have option to combine them together. Also now there is Shockwave so all the guys have the "free angst" option I gues ahahah

[demonic0angel]

DC x DP: Jazz decides her boyfriend and his dad need some family therapy over this whole "Kill the Joker/Only Lock Up the Joker" disagreement they have. Eventually they compromise: They lock him up in Walker's ghost prison!

“If you loved me, you would’ve avenged me!”

“You know I can’t break that promise to myself! If I kill, then what’s stopping me from killing others?! We are not judge, jury or executi—”

“Shut your damn mouth! You have no backbone, that’s why! You spineless, weak, pathetic excuse of a—”

“Jason!” Jazz barked, glancing at Bruce’s expression, which had entirely closed off from hurt. Jason winced, also realizing what he said, but he pursed his lips and didn’t say a word, too prideful to make the first move and apologize.

Jazz rubbed her forehead and looked at her notes. Why did she do this again? No wonder it was discouraged to have doctors treat families or loved ones. She could already feel the looming presence of Ethical Concerns over her shoulder.

“Okay,” she said, because she started this, so she’d be damned if she didn’t finish it, “let’s restart. First, let’s calmly—” she looked at them both in the eyes, emphasizing the word carefully, “—express our feelings about the situation to each other, okay? Everyone will have a turn to speak.”

“What’s there to say?” Jason grouched. “He won’t kill the Joker, I refuse to compromise and let that trash live on and kill others!”

“Okay,” Jazz said, “Bruce, what do you have to say?”

“… I won’t kill.”

Jason bristled. Jazz quickly interrupted, “How about we find another solution? Maybe we can think of another plan so both of you will be satisfied.”

“We put the Joker in Arkham,” Bruce said.

Jason sneered. “Yeah, but he escapes every few weeks, doesn’t he? Don’t lie, Arkham has never been a real solution!”

Bruce looked forlorn. “I love you, Jason,” he said, with a quiet sort of conviction.

Jason glared at him. “Fuck you.”

“Jason,” Jazz scolded, and he huffed out of his nose, crossing his arms. He was so lucky that she loved him to death and back and all of the cycles of life in between.

Wait a minute… death?

Jazz perked up and said, “I may have a solution.” Both men turned to look at her, giving her their full attention. “In the Ghost Zone, there is a prison there that holds all of our worst criminals. It’s been upgraded several times and it’s very secure. Every time someone has broken out— and it’s only been a few times in the last few centuries— they’ve been found and caught within a day. Also, since everyone in there is already dead, even if the Joker got out, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone.” She smiled. “What do you think?”

Jason and Bruce looked at each other and then at Jazz. They nodded once in frightening unison as they both crossed their arms and leaned back into their seats, expressions serious.

“Tell us how we can get the Joker in there.”

Jazz smiled and nodded. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all!

One family problem solved, only thirty-one more to go!

[habeshawubet]

[cookinguptales]

You know... I had an experience about two months ago that I didn't talk about publicly, but I've been turning it over and over in my mind lately and I guess I'm finally able to put my unease into words.

So there's a podcast I'd been enjoying and right after I got caught up, they announced that they were planning on doing a live show. It's gonna be near me and on the day before my birthday and I thought -- hey, it's fate.

But... as many of you know, I'm disabled. For me, getting to a show like that has a lot of steps. One of those steps involved emailing the podcasters to ask about accessibility for the venue.

The response I got back was very quick and very brief. Essentially, it told me to contact the venue because they had no idea if it was accessible or not.

It was a bucket of cold water, and I had a hard time articulating at the time quite why it was so disheartening, but... I think I get it a little more now.

This is a podcast that has loudly spoken about inclusivity and diversity and all that jazz, but... I mean, it's easy to say that, isn't it? But just talking the talk without walking the walk isn't enough. That's like saying "sure, we will happily welcome you in our house -- if you can figure out how to unlock the door."

And friends, my lock-picking set is pretty good by this point. I've been scouting out locations for decades. I've had to research every goddamn classroom, field trip, and assigned bookstore that I've ever had in an academic setting. I've had to research every movie theater, theme park, and menu for every outing with friends or dates. I spend a long time painstakingly charting out accessible public transportation and potential places to sit down every time I leave the house.

Because when I was in college, my professors never made sure their lesson plans were accessible. (And I often had to argue with them to get the subpar accommodations I got.) Because my friends don't always know to get movie tickets for the accessible rows. Because my dates sometimes leave me on fucking read when I ask if we can go to a restaurant that doesn't keep its restrooms down a flight of stairs.

I had one professor who ever did research to see if I could do all the coursework she had planned, and who came up with alternate plans when she realized that I could not. Only one. It was a medical history and ethics class, and my professor sounded bewildered as she realized how difficult it is to plan your life when you're disabled.

This woman was straight-up one of the most thoughtful, philosophical, and ethical professors I've ever had, one who was incredibly devoted to diversity and inclusion -- and she'd never thought about it before, that the hospital archives she wanted us to visit were up a flight of stairs. That the medical museum full of disabled bodies she wanted us to visit only had a code-locked back entrance and an old freight elevator for their disabled guests who were still breathing.

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? It's easy to theoretically accept the existence of people who aren't like you. It's a lot harder to actively create a space in which they can exist by your side.

Because here's what I did before I contacted the podcasters. I googled the venue. I researched the neighborhood and contacted a friend who lives in the area to help me figure out if there were any accessible public transportation routes near there. (There aren't.) I planned for over an hour to figure out how close I could get before I had to shell out for an uber for the last leg of the trip.

Then I read through the venue's website. I looked through their main pages, through their FAQs to see if there was any mention of accessibility. No dice. I download their packet for clients and find out that, while the base building is accessible, the way that chairs/tables are set up for individual functions can make it inaccessible. So it's really up to who's hosting the show there.

So then and only then I contacted the podcasters. I asked if the floor plan was accessible. I asked if all the seats were accessible, or only some, and whether it was open seating or not. Would I need to show up early to get an accessible seat, or maybe make a reservation?

And... well, I got the one-sentence reply back that I described above. And that... god, it was really disheartening. I realized that they never even asked if their venues were accessible when they were booking the shows. I realized that they were unwilling to put in the work to learn the answers to questions that disabled attendees might have. I realized that they didn't care to find out if the building was accessible.

They didn't know and they didn't care. That, I think, is what took the wind out of my sails when they emailed me back. It's what made me decide that... yeah, I didn't really want to go through the trouble of finding an accessible route to the venue. I didn't want to have to pay an arm and a leg to hire a car to take me the last part of the journey. I didn't want to make myself frantic trying to figure out if I could do all that and still make the last train home.

If they didn't care, I guess I didn't either.

If they'd apologized and said that the only venue they could get was inaccessible, I actually would have understood. I know that small shows don't always get their pick of venues. I get it. I even would have understood if they'd been like "oh dang, I actually don't know -- but I'll find out."

But to be told that they didn't know and didn't intend to find out... oof. That one stung.

Because.... this is the thing. This is the thing. I may be good at it by now, but I'm so tired of picking locks. I'm tired of doing all the legwork because no one ever thinks to help me. I'm tired of feeling like an afterthought at best, or at worst utterly unwelcome.

If you truly want to be inclusive, you need to stop telling people that you're happy to have them -- if they can manage to unlock the door. You need to fucking open it yourself and welcome them in.

What brought all this back to me now, you may be asking? Well... I guess it's just what I was thinking to myself as I was tidying up my phone.

Today I'm deleting podcasts.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 7

Danny sees a 30 minute video in his recommendations titled: Why Red Robin and Phantom should never meet, and honestly? The more he watches the more he immediately wants to fly to New Jersey and declare Red Robin and Spoiler his new friends

Tim sees the same video and is losing his mind cause this is how he learns about the Anti ecto acts and about a Lazarus hell portal being open in a small city in Illinois for two years without the JL knowing anything!

He needs to save this guy before he gets himself...okay. Maybe its a little late for that but his point still stands!

It has nothing to do to him liking how many unhinged situations him and Phantom could get away with. Nothing!

RR could hardly believe it when Phantom showed up on his patrol a few nights later, offering to give him a tour of the ghost zone (at least what Danny had mapped out already) in return for some assistance against Vlad, the GIW, the Fentons and help him get Danny and Jazz Fenton rights to thiwr parents patents and machines so the government can't steal them...and maybe set up a place for them to live until they're 18

Also he wanted to know how cool RR was with clones.

Tim gets a thermos and immediately sucks Phantom up, apologizes claiming he needed to test it to make sure it was legit, and they go one thier way. Dannys just glad he didn't give him a blaster.

They become best friends, prank the other bats, terrorize all of thier enemies, ect.

The real problems start when Danny "can't recognize ethics unless its actively hurting someone" Fenton and Tim "always one and a half steps from turning into a supervillian" Drake start taking things a bit too far riding off of eachothers excitement

The universe trembles in fear.

Constantine hides and puts his phone on silent.

[bluerosefox]

Fenton Ethics and Test Tube Babies

In order to get the funding they need for their Ghost stuff, Jack and Maddie Fenton had to do some... rather illegal things when they left college.

One of them was testing alien DNA and seeing if it was compatible with human DNA.

However getting their hands on Superman's DNA or any of the main Leaguers would be far to hard for two up coming scientists and would run the risk of them being caught. Instead they set their sights on some of the younger aliens.

Such as Starfire, or rather Koriand'r.

They manage to get their hands on her DNA, and also her boyfriend (Nightwing) at the time and began to test it. They felt unsure with what they're doing but they needed the funding and in order to make themself feel better with what they're doing they decided if they were test her DNA with someone she was seeing it would be... better for their own conscience (it doesn't make what they're doing okay but they think so)

Eventually they succeeded in the testing! A baby can be made between a human and a alien.

HOWEVER because we know how the Fenton's get, they kind of go ahead of what they were only meant to do, which was just to TEST the compatibility of the DNA. Basically the paper's before the test phase.

With them getting tunnel vision on this project... They create said baby.

Then before they could show off that creating a new baby via test tubes actually works, they were told that the paperwork they were working on were going to be given to a new team, thank you for your work, here is the money for your ghost stuff, and have a good day.

The people who hired them then just leave.... Without knowing about the newly made baby.

Jack and Maddie name the baby Jasmine.

A few years later when little Jazz asks for a sibling... Well they bring out the old test tubes and papers.

And even though Starfire is no longer dating Nightwing, her new partner Red Hood would make a wonderful male donor for their future kid.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Teen Villain Alliance Chapter 6

When Fenton had given Damian his task of attending classes and picking a team, he hadn’t expected to start enjoying it. 

Which was a miscalculation on Damian’s part. Damian had always enjoyed learning; his mother had been indulgent with what he learned as a child, sending tutors in everything that caught his interest, from art to world history to veterinary medicine. It wasn’t until his education in assassination began in earnest–around his 7th birthday–that his interests were stifled. And when he’d been sent to live with Father, it ground to a halt.

It took months for Father to deem him “tamed” enough to introduce him to the public, and even then he was  not allowed an education. While Damian was grateful that he wouldn’t endure public schooling, Father didn’t even allow tutors on the premises. Instead, Damian attended “online school” which consisted of video lectures and multiple choice quizzes on topics he’d covered years ago. In addition to the online school, he had daily lectures on “ethics” and “societal norms” from either Pennyworth or Grayson, neither of which were experts in the area. He’d asked. 

The TVA was different. Better, if he were honest, but he’d never admit it aloud. The teachers were ghosts, experts in their fields. Who else could say that they learned chemistry from Maria Skłodowska-Curie, or battle tactics from the first Amazonian, Pandora? The ghosts around him were not stuck in the past, nor apathetic to life on earth; instead, they kept learning, kept evolving, with a careful eye on the world outside the Infinite Realms. 

And despite himself, Damian even enjoyed having classmates. No class was large–most didn’t have more than 10 students per teacher–and many classes involved a debate aspect that allowed them to get to know each other. Just the other day, Damian had spent over an hour discussing the methods for creating a locked door murder with Shadowblade, a 14-year-old ninja from Japan. 

There was no competition, with the exception of combat classes. In the League, and at Wanye Manor, he was always competing. To be the best so he wouldn’t be replaced, to be strong to live up to the name of Al Ghul. Competing for Father’s attention, his approval, over the ingrates that make claims to a birthright that is not their own. With Grayson, Todd, Cain, Drake; each of them stronger, faster, better trained, better behaved. 

Trusted. 

Was it any wonder that Damian had jumped at the chance to prove himself?

Dr. Fenton–Danny, the man had insisted–trusted him. He wanted Damian to lead his team in the field. In his hand was a list of all the members he would work with, and the paper was tacky with sweat. Taking a deep breath, Damian knocked on the door to Fenton’s lab. 

After a few minutes, Fenton opened the door. He looked frazzled, hair astray and lab-coat half on. “Damian!” He said, smiling brightly. “I wasn’t expecting you, come in! I just reached a good stopping point for my latest project.” He invited Damian into the lab. “What can I help you with?”

Damian held out his list. “These are the four members of the TVA that I thought will work best as your infiltration squad.” He’d thought long and hard about who had the skills to join and, more importantly, who he could tolerate working directly under him. 

Fenton smiled. “That’s great! Have you started talking to them? Making friends?”

“...Some,” Damian decided on, thinking back to Shadowblade. “Everyone on that list has skills or abilities that would enable easy information gathering. I have yet to approach them though; I thought you’d prefer to determine if I’ve made the right choice.”

“Fantastic! I’ll give them to Jazz in a bit, see if there’ll be any conflicts. How’s everything going for you? Have you enjoyed all your classes?”

Damian nodded, but looked away. There was another reason why he was here. “May I… ask you something? I’ve encountered a conundrum that I could use advice for.”

“Of course! I’m always willing to ask. But if I may ask, why don’t you ask Jazz? She’s mentioned that she hasn’t seen you in her office once, and she gives fantastic advice.”

Damian made a face. “I see no reason to submit myself to brainwashing when I am already a loyal member of this organization. There’s no need for me to attend.”

Danny’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, we’ll come back to that eventually. But what’s bugging you, Damian?”

Damian swallowed. Suddenly, all the anger from the thought of therapy drained out of him and he sagged. “Is it… bad? That I am happier now than I was before?”

“What do you mean?” Danny asked, leading Damian over to a couch near the entrance of the lab. It was clearly a recreational space, with a gaming system in front of a TV. Damian sat beside him as he considered his words. 

“I… enjoy my time here. I like it more than I’ve liked anywhere else. And I should not. I shouldn’t be enjoying this life while leaving the people who raised me behind. My mother, my grandfather—this feels like a betrayal.” His father would be so disappointed in him if he learned how affected these villains made Damian. 

Danny’s face softened. He took in a deep breath, turning in his seat to face him. “I can understand that. Did something similar to my folks when I joined Phantom, you know.”

“...Really?” No one knew about the Wolves' pasts. Many of his fellows speculated, but no one knew for sure. The top theory for Fenton was that he was a mad scientist on the run from the government. 

“Yeah.” Danny nodded, glancing down for a moment before meeting Damian’s gaze. “When I was your age, I... betrayed my parents too. Not in the same way as you, but... my parents were ghost hunters. They spent their lives teaching me and my sister that ghosts were dangerous, evil. And for a long time, I believed them. But then they built a portal to the Ghost Zone, and ghosts starting coming through, and Phantom happened, and…” He looked away, swallowing. “I realized how wrong they were.”

He paused, gauging Damian’s reaction. The boy was listening, quiet but intense.

“I ended up siding with the very things they want to destroy,” Danny continued. “They want to indiscriminately massacre an entire species. They even co-authored a law that makes it legal to experiment and execute ghosts in American territory.” 

“What?” Damian couldn’t believe what he was saying. There couldn’t be a law that so blatantly breaks the Metahumans Protection Act, right? The Justice League–Father–would never stand for it. 

“It’s true,” Fenton said, as if to counter Damian’s thoughts. Damian boosted his mental shields just in case Fenton was a telepath. “There’s a whole government organization dedicated to ‘researching’ ghosts. Of course, they’re more interested in dissecting them.” Damian shuttered. “See? It’s clear that they’re in the wrong in this instance. That helps me some, when I keep thinking about how I betrayed my parents. But even knowing I was doing the right thing, it still hurts. Sometimes the people who are supposed to protect us and put us first end up hurting us the worst.”

Fenton placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “You’re a good kid. You’re so smart, and you have so much potential. But what your grandfather did to you was wrong. What your mother did was wrong. And you have every right to distance yourself from any situation where you feel unsafe.”

Damian looked away. “They were just trying to make me stronger,” he muttered. 

“Would you ever do what they did to someone else? Even to make them stronger?”

Damian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his mind swirling with memories of training, the endless demands for perfection, the blood on his hands. He thought about how much he had been shaped by the League, how much he had been forced to be something he hadn’t chosen. And then there was his father. He had felt so out of place, constantly trying to meet expectations he didn’t fully understand, let alone agree with.

“No,” Damian whispered, the answer clear. “I wouldn’t.”

“Then there’s your answer,” Danny said, smiling gently. “It doesn’t matter what they wanted for you. You’re not betraying them by living a better life or by choosing a path they wouldn’t have chosen for you.”

Damian stayed quiet for a moment, absorbing Danny’s words. A small weight lifted from his chest. He didn’t need to feel guilty for enjoying this life—this better life—away from the constant pressure of the League, or from the expectations of his father.

Danny leaned back again, folding his arms behind his head, the familiar goofy grin returning. “And hey, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing pretty awesome here. You kicked butt in those combat drills last week.”

Damian flushed, suddenly embarrassed. “You saw those?”

“Yup,” Danny popped his lips, grinning smugly. “Sam and Phantom are so jealous you’re on my team instead of theirs. They’re planning to poach you, but I trust that you’ll dismiss their bribes.”

A small, rare smile tugged at Damian’s lips.