#the mundane project

[sparecrew]

Here we go, for realsies now.

Day 1, yeah?

So far, so good. (Under an hour in.)

I'm not going to let myself mess this one up.

[bonefall]

a while ago you said that Starclan cats design kittens and customize them with patterns and colors from their parents genes. So, do the clan cats raise any eyebrows when it comes to people who know cat genetics? Is there a geneticist who is holding their head wondering how these two cats have this colored kit while their starclan designer was just playing around? Or do the Starclan designers still have to stay within the rules?

Basically, do the humans notice that some of these clan cats are sparkle cats lol

I try to not get too "lost in the weeds" since the humans aren't the focus of the story, just taking care that they DO have real motivations behind their actions rather than construction crews materializing out of nowhere to Do A Chaos, but...

First, the genetics of cats in Albion are different than humans in equivalent Great Britain.

Partially, this is because I honestly just don't really enjoy learning about in-depth genetics or applying them realistically. I like drawing anime characters and writing anime battles, so they have anime genetics. But more than that, off-screen, the intelligence of cats has altered the timeline of this world.

If cats really were capable of higher thinking, that totally would have had some butterfly effects. I like dropping crazy alt-history and then not elaborating on it, because it's funny. Archimedes' cat helped him invent a death ray, btw.

On that note of genetics though, you guessed right. StarClan designers DO have to work with what they have. Whatever the genetics of this alternate universe of cats are, every kit born still abides by the laws of nature.

Which brings me to...

Second, the researchers do notice that the Clan cats are special. In fact, there is a "study of magic" in this universe-- Thaumatology. "The science of wonder."

(There's no world where magic actually factually exists that science isn't all over it lmao)

Thaumatology facts I haven't shared so far since it's all offscreen and just Bonus Worldbuilding;

It is a "soft science," not a hard one.

It has a LOT of problems with replicability. Thaumatologists and Quantum Physicists have a lot of in-jokes.

The most well known (to the point of being a cliche) is "magic and quantum particles both hate being watched."

Magic is highly variable based on a bajillion very personal factors, like emotion, environment, culture, personal background, etc, so it's severely difficult to re-create it in controlled environments.

Thaumatology has a lot of overlap with sociology, archeology, and theology, so people from these fields work together a lot.

There was absolutely not a dedicated Thaumatologist working in the Research Team early on, sadly.

It was probably discovered when the Battle of the True Eclipse blew out a bunch of field cameras.

It's pretty common that photography equipment fritzes out a bit during "supernatural" times like eclipses, but the damage was extensive enough to be noteworty

The Clan cats were initially notable just for the fact they had advanced culture.

Cats are usually comparable to crows and monkeys, in this universe. So cats with fire and a crude writing system were enough to SHAKE the field of zoology.

The fact they're cats helped a lot. The public loves cats, enough that since their discovery after Speckletail attacked a bulldozer, massive outcry has secretly helped the Clans several times.

The discovery that the culture also has Thaumatological elements is more of a goldmine for a scientist than the public, though.

It's common knowledge that "animals are magic," because humanity projects traits onto them. "Of course they do, they're cats...?"

The Thaumatologist is freaking out because "THE CAT IS PROVABLY DOING ITS OWN THAUMATURGY"

Most people don't know the difference between Thaumaturgy (the functional work it does on the world) and Thaumology (the study of that as a whole), so this particular scientist is going to have a hard time explaining WHY this distinction is so special.

(And possibly even offensive to certain groups, who would insist only humans are capable of this)

In any case, eventually there would be Thaumatological interest in the Clan cats, but they weren't there in the mid to late 2010s when BB!ASC takes place.

[dragonpyre]

I'm a chronic migraine Jason Todd truther. Except he doesn't know they're migraines. Poor guy will be layed up on his couch for days wondering what wizard he pissed off cuz light hurts, sounds hurt, he thinks he's gonna throw up, his vision doesn't work right, and also there's an invisible rail spike driving itself into his skull. Then his thinks it's a Pit side affect or some other weird thing.

But no. It's just migraines

[thepajamamen]

Zane gets called a mom friend because y'all love to woobify him a lot but honestly i think if you put him in charge of a child he would not know what to do with it. like he would take the responsibility seriously and keep the kid out of trouble but otherwise he would have no idea what to do. Zane babysitting activities consist of sitting quietly in a room and not leaving his line of sight until your guardians (or the other ninja) get back. And snacks if you get hungry but you're not allowed to help make them you have to sit there and watch

[even-disco-baby]

YOU — “No. There is still a chance.”

DOLORES DEI — “You think so?” Her voice is weary.

EMPATHY — Everything about her is weary. She is the Innocence of weariness, of heroically borne suffering.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — That is the picture you have painted for yourself, at any rate.

YOU — “You looked back. That’s the memory, the moment, that I can’t stop returning to. You looked back. I had a chance, for just that moment…”

DOLORES DEI — She meets your eye, gaze still forever cast back over her shoulder. Time stops. The stars are stilled, the ocean silent. There is *nothing* beyond this memory. Nothing at all. All of infinity is contained in this single moment when anything and everything was possible.

“Oh, Harry…” She sighs, soft as eiderdown. “We never had any chance.”

And just like that, the wave of time collapses under its own weight, obliterating everything. This moment was six years ago. She is gone from here. Gone, gone…

PAIN THRESHOLD — You cannot leave. There was nothing outside of this moment, and now there is nothing at all. It’s all gone. There is no point. I’m sorry. I can’t do this any longer.

VOLITION — Please, don’t say that…

“Okay. Well, fuck me, then.”

“How would *you* know?! You gave up! You didn’t even try!”

“We *must* have had a chance, at some point… Doesn’t everyone get a chance, if nothing more?”

“How could you say that…?”

DOLORES DEI — “Because it’s true,” she says, matter-of-fact. “There is no moment in time that you can turn back to, no branching paths, no infinity. There is only what happened. I looked back… and then away.” She closes her eyes, turning her back to you.

“The moment ended. *We* ended. That is all.”

SHIVERS — A wave crashes against an unseen shore, ocean spray tickling the back of your neck. You shiver, but no one shivers with you. You are alone in this intersection. Why are you here?

“Why can’t *I* end?! Why can’t this all just stop? Please, make it stop…”

“Ended? I’ve barely even started! I got a chance to start completely over as somebody new! I don’t need you anymore! You’re just dead weight to me now.”

“No. That wasn’t the real ending. We’re a part of something so much bigger than this intersection, telling a story that encapsulates all of history! There’s *more* to this, it *means* something.”

“Then… What am I supposed to do now…?”

DOLORES DEI — “No, Harry.” She turns back to you again now, and she looks… sad.

“We were not metaphors. We were people. Our narrative was not intelligently designed. It simply followed the patterns of history, because those are the only patterns we *know.* We tried to create something new, but we failed. There is no narrative reward for our failure, no satisfactory ending. There is only the immutable past and the unknowable future.”

RHETORIC — There is no assurance of what is good or deserved or what may bring relief. There is no assurance of punishment, either. There is no assurance of anything. Not even of a future. I don’t know what to say to make this bearable.

VOLITION — Even so… As long as you live, *something* is promised. Can you live with that?

I can’t, I just can’t do this anymore…

I can. It’s enough.

I don’t know. I just don’t know.

I can at least try for a little longer…

VOLITION — That’s all I ask. That’s enough.

[oetscop]

btw in my mind petscop ends with belle and paul going to see where the windmill was and its very emotional for them. then they both get to go home together, and lina was waiting all these years for her son to come home. they all sit in the living room and catch up on the last 18 years and paul falls asleep on the couch and its the best sleep hes gotten since the first car ride home in '97. btw.

[helenofblackthorns]

idk why but sometimes I look in the anti tsc tags just because it's fun. the insane opinions you can stumble upon... for example I had no idea people were so passionate about jalec & jace/izzy that they sincerely believe they should have been canon. like they might the only people who think that but I admire the commitment

also I once saw someone say that the show is better than the books because it had representation. they were not claiming the books had worse representation mind you, they were explicitly claiming that the book didn't have any representation 😭 I think they must have read the wrong books because????

I also saw someone say that you could cut coa & cofa out of tmi and it would be perfectly understandable. they doubled down on coa having absolutely no storylines that are relevant in cog which. it doesn't have to be your favourite book or anything. but things did in fact happen. people died (mainly simon).

[warpedpuppeteer]

Something about how Buck was so nervous about telling Eddie but then he saw him in his own kitchen, being so comfortable that he actually was talking about staying there (to run away but still). He's choosing Buck to stay with. Something about how everyone leaves but Eddie always chooses to stay. And Buck probably knows in that moment, that he cannot lie to him anymore. He doesn't want to. That Eddie deserves all of him; the good, the bad and everything in between. That Eddie deserves to know every facet of him because he stays, and he feels comforted by the thought enough that he blurts out "it was a date" and then they keep talking and Eddie is so, so good to him that the fear eases away into an of course. Of course Eddie would stay. Because he always does.

[verdantglow]

Read a little of a fanfic last night where Etho worked at a mall & I was aghast at what store they had him working at (won’t say where ‘cause the point of this post isn’t to put the author on blast) & now I’m thinking of a Traffic smp AU where folks work at the same mall & I just…

- Etho, Tango, & Mumbo are all geniuses at the Apple Store. Impulse is a genius admin.*

- Joel, perpetual former emo boy, works at Hot Topic. He’s probably like. A key holder or assistant manager or something.

- Scar also works at Hot Topic. Because he needed a job desperately & Grian convinced Joel to get him one at his store. So now he’s the location’s token normal guy. But hey, they carry a lot of Disney stuff now, so he’s not too upset about it.

- Lizzie & Gem work at Lush. They always smell amazing & are always covered in glitter.

- Pearl works at Aveda. She also always smells amazing, but is not covered in glitter.

- Grian & Martyn work at Game Stop. Grian is very begrudging about this, putting in minimal effort unless something specific piques his interest, while Martyn will happily chat with any customer about pretty much any game.

- Jimmy works at like. Abercrombie & Fitch or Hollister. (He knows nothing about fashion & very much got the job for being tall & handsome. Like he literally was walking past the store & they offered him a job.)

- Scott is the manager at Express/Express Men. He does know a good bit about fashion & especially is good at picking out clothes that accentuate people’s best features.

- Cleo manages the Starbucks inside the Barnes & Noble.

- Ren works at a table top game store as assistant manager & runs in store ttrpg sessions for people to try out different systems. (He runs these sessions off the clock; his friends are appalled by this.)

- Bdubs is assistant manager in charge of visuals at Pottery Barn.

- BigB manages the Cinnabon. (Currently. He’s actually worked almost everywhere in the food court & knows the dirt on every single one.)

- Skizz is a full timer at a cell phone provider kiosk. He’s been employee of the month at least six times in the last year, ‘cause he’s so friggen genuinely friend that it’s really hard to ignore him while walking past. You just have to stop to say hi because otherwise it’d be rude & you’d actually feel bad about it.

* genius admin is the person who goes through paperwork & payment with you on return of repaired items. Other duties include: maintaining the store’s repair database, all part inventory handling, managing the repair queue, & generally being in charge of the repair room.

[pantestudines]

No one should care but ive been thinking about it and my take is that the root of the walrus/fairy question is one specific word used by the original poll: "surprised". The question is not which would change your worldview or which is more/less possible to really happen. The question is which *surprises* you more. To me, this means which causes a stronger immediate surprise reaction in you upon opening that door. In essence, how bad do you flinch?

This, to me, is why so many people (including myself!) choose Walrus. A walrus is an immediate situation! That's an animal larger and stronger than you are, one that I would say is potentially very dangerous, that many people have never seen in real life. And now it's your responsibility and on your doorstep! A walrus on a doorstep is a novel idea, at least to me. I don't think I've ever had an animal just appear at my door, and certainly never knock. Sure, after the gut reaction dies down, the mundanity of the situation is certain; a walrus is a real animal and the perpetrator is likely nearby, laughing at the world's weirdest ding-dong ditch prank. But for a few seconds, it's just you, your expectations upon opening a door, and a pinniped of unusual size.

Now let's examine the fairy; The term can be vague, but I think most people imagine a generally humanoid but very small creature with insect wings. First off, by being small, the fairy will likely not trigger a defensive response, unlike the walrus. This thing is not an immediate threat, at least to your subconcious. Also, by being humanoid, usually with a very human face and features, this changes the situation from "strange beast on my doorstep" to "strange person on my doorstep". Obviously this may be different from person to person, but I think "strange small person on my doorstep" would illicite much weaker response from my flight or fight reflex than a large, strange animal. This is nothing to say about the familiarity most people have with fantasy and fantasy ideas, and the lack of familiarity most people have with walrus' in general, but I think those are also factors.

[sparecrew]

Heading into my cardiology appointment. Good thoughts, please.

[agentartemus]

I thought today was a good one..

[dailyhonakana]

HI admin 🎼 here for day 4!! almost forgot to post this today, but i wrote it yesterday while having thoughts about them in the kitchen. this card image isnt entirely accurate, but i couldnt find any other images of them in the kitchen together, so it works i guess! heres a drabble (which turned out slightly longer than id wanted it to!) about kanade being a lesbian

—

Tapping her pen against the table, Kanade can’t concentrate. She can’t think at all, even when she knows the rest of her group is already full of ideas for their next song. She could blame it on the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window, which she normally doesn’t open the blinds of, but that’s not bothering her all that much, and Honami seems to like it better that way (especially with how lovely the tone of the sky’s light becomes at dusk — Honami had pointed that out to her, and she can’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before). She could blame it on the fact she’s outside at all and not holed up in her bedroom, but Honami (ever-politely) insisted she come outside to do her work, and she doesn’t mind it; she does like making Honami happy, too. Maybe she’s not meant to be writing her ideas down on a notepad? No, probably not — that was Honami’s idea as well. Kanade’s been using the pen and the notepad since Honami gave them to her two months ago. They’ve served her well so far. So has everything else Honami has suggested, or gently pushed her to do, or brought to her home with a shy smile and a reminder that if she doesn’t like it it’s okay and she can give it back, even though she never does.

She glances at the pretty set of plates, neatly laid out on the table, that she’d found in her cupboard months before; the new towel that always smells faintly like apple pie, from Honami’s home, where it was no longer in use; the open blinds in front of Honami. Kanade stares at her, and briefly, she wonders how Honami must look to someone not tragically forced to only stare at her back. Strands of light shining on her softly smiling face as she hums, chopping something, as though it’s the only thing in the world she needs to do…

Kanade blinks, and quickly looks down at her blank notepad. The stray, traitorous thought that her one distraction is right in front of her passes through her mind. She shoves it down with the nagging thought that she needs to do her work. Then, she looks back up at her housekeeper, wondering how strong her arms must be. Stronger than hers, strong enough to chop carrots, although that probably wasn’t a high bar. But they were certainly strong from years of playing the drums-

Honami suddenly turns to face her, brows furrowed in worry, and Kanade flinches a little. She doesn’t notice. “Ms. Yoisaki,” she says hurriedly, “you do like carrots, right? I’m sorry, I only just remembered to ask you if you did, I know I should have beforehand, but I’ve already chopped almost all these…”

Oddly, Kanade feels a smile trying to make its way onto her face. She tries her best to force it away. “No,” she says. “I like them.”

“Oh.” Honami smiles in relief. “I’m glad,” she says, before turning around again to chop the last carrot. Kanade rests her head on her palm and just watches her for the little time she has before she’s done cooking.

[kissmefriendly]

Okay, the little “History is…” talk in the new Amelia Project is making me emotional. Because, as a history buff, my absolute favourite part of history IS the people and the individual stories! One of my favourite things is to read the correspondences of people who never thought that their stories would ever be worth telling or would be important to the historical record.

“History is just wars and dates.”

“No. It’s people! It’s like… it’s like… what is it like? It’s like reading sci-fi but instead of the future it’s the past. But it’s still all stories and cultures and people and they’re different and you never really meet any of them-“

It’s such a lovely way of putting it. And, as Kozlowski points out, the past is still tangible and still impacts and exists in our modern world. Even if it bears little resemblance to what it once was 100 or even 500 years ago. Wars and dates are how we categorise the past, what we define eras by. But it does not give an accurate representation of the living, human parts of the world. How people still played practical jokes, how cultures were evolving or clinging to stay alive, or how for all of time people have always been here just as we are now. Just in different settings. And you know what, that’s beautiful.

The past is horrific and brutal and ugly. It’s also inspiring and worth remembering the stories that make it all up, the threads in the tapestry that is continuing to be woven. It’s about significant names such as Moliere and his death but it SIMULTANEOUSLY about the joy of that one day you found the perfect waffle.

[true-bluesargent]

just realised that IM MEETING LEIGH BARDUGO. TOMORROW. this is wild what do i wear how do i act

[luke-shywalker]

home again.

“Rey! Come down! You’re going to be late for school!”

“I’m coming, Mum! Geez!”

“Han, would you wash out the caf pot—no, wait, you broke it last time. Just leave it alone.”

“You could have a little faith in me, Your Highness.”

“Don’t ‘Your Highness’ me. Get that scrappy kid to school. And tell her not to beat up any more boys.”

“Rey, don’t beat up any more boys. Just tell ‘em who your dad is.”

“Right, Dad—and they’ll be all like, ‘Han Solo’ who?”

“For kriff’s sake, why am I getting the rough end from both my ladies today?”

“Han, language. But—sorry. Kiss! Mwah. Go upstairs and check on Ben when you come back, all right? Have a good day at school, Rey! Bye, flyboy.”

“Bye Mum!”

“See ya, sweetheart.”

The sound of the door closing.

“Oi. Mum’s always so stressed.”

“Rey. I know your mother doesn’t want you picking fights. But, as your father, I just wanna tell ya I’m proud of you for sticking up for yourself, and I want you to know that if you ever feel like you gotta—”

The door closed again, leaving the rest of the conversation a mystery.

Ben sighed and rolled over in bed. The house he’d grown up in had always been like that—you could hear everything that went on from any room.

He hadn’t lived here for a long time—seven years, about? And yet, it felt like he’d never left. Or, like he’d gone back in time.

There was evidence that Rey had started using his bedroom as kind of a garage—not that she didn’t have enough space in her own room (which required one to wade through knee-high levels of…just…stuff, and rather resembled the wasteland she had been rescued from). His desk, where he used to draw pictures of his own made-up ships and write himself into fictional stories about the Rebellion, was covered in mechanical pieces and bits of wiring from Rey’s projects. But other than that, his room was largely unchanged. The X-wing posters were still there. And so was the Sy Snootles pinup that Poe had given him as a joke. He was both surprised and amused that his mother had never taken it down.

But, then, it also felt like time had moved on without him. He’d been here for a few days now—consigned here by a freak medical crisis—and watching his mom and dad and sister play out the daily orchestration of their lives kind of made him feel like he had died after high school and his family had just kept on doing their thing.

Being around Rey was the weirdest part. The last time he had lived in the same house as his sister, she’d been seven, eight years old. Obviously, he’d seen her since then, every Life Day, and a few other times each year—but whenever Rey showed up in his dreams or in his mind, she was still seven.

But now she was fifteen, and she was…him. All those memories Ben had of being a teenager, of doing homework at the dinner table, fighting with his parents over nothing, using words that meant things to his peers but that his family didn’t understand, laughing on late night holocalls with friends and getting yelled at to go to bed—that was her, now. And now here he was, twenty-five and boring.

His boringness was evidenced by the fact that he missed buying groceries and making his own food. His parents couldn’t cook. They never could. Rey could eat literally anything, so that didn’t bother her. But Ben missed making his own dinner—maybe it was about the food, but maybe it was also just about the sense of control.

He couldn’t pilot a speeder in his current condition, so he was stuck here. He could go on walks, but he didn’t want to most of the time, because it made him dizzy.

He found himself alternating mostly between sleeping, and wandering the empty house during the day. Trying to spot things that had changed. Looking at the holopicture frames. There were still holos of him, but there were more and more holos of Rey. It was like getting caught up on her life since he’d left home.

Being off work felt like summer vacation. Only…bad. Because doing nothing all day was fun for a kid—but for a grownup, it was kind of like hell. The hours blurred together into sluggish, amorphous days, and he just kind of found himself places, doing things—oh, hey, I’m here now. Now he found himself downstairs in the kitchen, washing out the caf pot that his mom hadn’t trusted his dad not to break.

That was another thing—he didn’t like the caf his mom made. She used really cheap caf grounds that she bought in bulk, which was exactly what she would do, being practical—but ever since leaving home, Ben had discovered good caf, and it was hard to go back.

It was hard to go back to a lot of things.

He set the caf pot on the rack to dry, and for a second he just stood there, looking out the kitchen window. Is this who I thought I’d be as an adult…?

Am I an adult?

And then he noticed that Rey had left the blue milk uncapped and on the counter, and the carton was sweating and becoming lukewarm, and that really pissed him off, so he capped it and put it in the fridge like it was supposed to be—and that told him, yes, he was now just a boring adult.

…Well. Maybe being a boring adult was better than being a teenage psychological mess, which was what he had been before.

He filled a glass of tap water and drank cheers to that.

Ben heard the door open, and turned to see his father coming back in.

He gave a nod. “Hey, Dad.”

“Oh, you’re up,” Han said. “How ya feelin’, kid?”

Ben imagined his dad would probably still be calling him “kid” when he was forty-five.

“I’ve been better,” Ben said, then changed the subject, because he was kind of sick of talking about his health. “So. How’s being house husband?”

“Hey.” Han pointed a defensive finger. “I am not a house husband.”

“Hey, I never said there was anything wrong with it,” Ben chuckled into his glass of water. “You’re doin’ great, Dad. Maybe she’ll even let you wash the caf pot someday.”

“Listen, kid, that was one time.”

“Oh, I’m just givin’ ya a hard time, old man.”

“Uh-huh. And when are you getting married?”

“Never. Women find me intolerable.”

“Funny. I said the exact same thing, at your age.”

“You know, I can’t believe Mom settled for you,” Ben joked, curious to see how the jab would land.

But Han just grinned and inclined his head and spread his arms in humility. “That’s what I’m sayin’, kid. If there’s hope for me, there’s hope for anybody.” He paused mischievously, and then took a shot back. “Even if you never inherited my dashingly good looks.”

“Ha! You mean I was spared from them,” Ben snorted. “Well, thanks, Dad; I’ll keep it in mind.”

Han laughed too. Insults were kind of a love language in their family, as weird as that sounded. He came over to lean against the counter next to Ben, then clapped him on the back and looked him in the eyes, like he was studying the man Ben had grown up into.

“Hey. I know the circumstances aren’t great, but…it’s kinda nice, having you home, Ben. I miss ya.”

“You do?” Ben asked with a self-conscious laugh, feeling more sentimental about his father’s words than he was comfortable admitting. “Kind of seems like your lives all went on without me.”

“Well…yours went on without us, too,” Han said, then shook him by the shoulders a little. “You need to call home more often, little buddy.”

Little buddy—Ben was a couple inches taller.

“I know,” Ben said, patting the top of his father’s graying head. “I’m just bad at it.”

“That’s no excuse.” Han tilted his head conspiratorially. “A house husband gets lonely, ya know.”

“Heh. Well. Can’t have that, I guess.”

They stood there, together. Father and son. The Solo men, Leia called them, when she was feeling playful.

“…Wanna take the Falcon out for a spin?” Han asked suddenly.

Ben turned to look at him, so abruptly it made his head hurt. “What—like, right now? I can’t pilot, Dad. The medcenter told me—”

“You can co-pilot.”

“No, Dad, I so can’t.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Uh, I get us both killed? No, wait—what’s worse is if Mom finds out.”

“C’mon.”

“Dad.”

“C’mon!”

“No!”

“Come on—”

“Okay!”

“Okay?”

“Okay. Geez.”

“All right!” Han tousled his son’s hair as if he was twenty years younger and tossed him his boots, which Ben started putting on amidst a sea of complaints—

“For kriff’s sake, Dad, fine, but I’m tellin’ ya, I can’t see that good right now, and I haven’t even piloted the Falcon in ages even if I was healthy, and this was all your stupid idea in the first place, so don’t you go giving me hell if I happen to put a scratch on your beloved—”

Han only laughed, while Ben was still talking, and the door closed, leaving the Organa-Solo house quiet again.