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@smalltune
everyone who is not currently in the process of moving please pause and take a moment to be grateful that you're not currently in the process of moving

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one thing i always get disappointed by in ppl's take on the lancer universe is how they make HORUS fucked up and incomprehensible in a way that kind of neuters their whole deal and functionally makes them entirely comprehensible to both the players and the PCs like. 'oh horus is the weird incomprehensible techno-cult that makes cool systems' like okay that all i need to know. i can comprehend that. but thats not how theyre written in the book(s)!!!!!
What makes HORUS so cool is that for the people of the Lancer setting, they inhabit the space between the familiar and the alien. jane purview wakes up every day, eats food out of a printer (she doesnt know how it works) operates a HA Tzu forklift with recursive hyper-paracode (she doesnt know how it works) and when it starts making a weird noise she downloads an open source diagnostic tool print file off the omninet (she doesnt know where it came from) and puts it into a bigger printer (you know the drill). and sometimes the stuff she doesnt understand will act weird, like in real life!
Like 200 years ago a random fisherman finds one day he's catching completely different fish to normal or 1000 years ago you're working some crops and suddenly the sky goes black and the sun turns into an eye and it goes back to normal 5 seconds later. thats the space in Lancer where HORUS happens! you're chilling with your friend in the space cafe and they mention that a friend of a friend once had a weird replacement forklift print itself on her account right before the old one broke and youre not sure if its true or not or if thats even possible but like. you dont know how it works
The Ghost of Christmas Past shows up and you’re like, “Ohhhhh for fuck’s sake,” but you’re in your childhood bedroom so it’s kind of on you. The ghost seems offended. She crosses her arms. She looks like you used to, with the pigtails.
“No way,” you say. “Don’t start.”
“I am the—”
“The Ghost of Christmas Past, I know, I know.” Because she looks like you, and it’s Christmas Eve, so what else. Your parents used to read you the story every year. Even when you were old enough to read on your own, it was better in your dad’s voice.
“You came home for your parents,” the ghost says, solemn. “It’s time to tell them.”
“No, like, ‘when you’re ready’?”
“You are ready,” she says, “or you wouldn’t have come back.”
Which is so stupid, because you weren’t on the moon, you were at college, and it’s only been two months of shots, you don’t even have a mustache. “Fucking leave me alone,” you say, so she does the ghost thing and takes you to a ten-years-ago Christmas. The living room. Your parents. Your fledgling self on the carpet with your stocking, the one you can’t look at anymore because when you were a baby your parents patiently hand-stitched the fucking name.
“Maybe they’ll make you a new one,” says the ghost.
“You don’t know that.” Bullshit ghost powers.
“You were happier back then. When they knew you.”
“Everyone was happier back then. It was, like, 2008.”
“There was a recession,” says the ghost.
“Shut up! Shut up!” You turn over in bed. For a second you expect to roll onto child-self-you curled up next to you. Probably crush the life out of her. You got good at that. It’s her bed, her room, pink covers, cat posters.
“This is so stupid, this Dickens thing,” you say. “I’m not even Christian anymore.”
“Tell your parents that second,” the ghost suggests.
“Oh my fucking God I’m not telling them anything can’t you go bother Jeff Bezos.”
“I’m just doing my job,” says the ghost, and vanishes.
#
The Ghost of Christmas Present has an acne problem. As soon as you open your eyes you say, “Oh my God,” and they say, “Hi,” and you say, “You better not be the fucking Ghost of Christmas Present,” and the Ghost of Christmas Present says, “I am.”
Which you knew.
“Why me?” you say, pink comforter bunched around your waist. “I didn’t do anything. Scrooge was mean to orphans.”
The Ghost of Christmas Present shrugs. “It’s the job.”
“Are you gonna show me my parents now?”
That makes them look kind of embarrassed.
“Well, don’t,” you say. If your parents are talking in the other room, huddled up conferencing with the lights off, you can’t hear it over the heater buzz. But you can guess what they’re saying: you went to school with a shitty pixie cut and worse eyeliner, and you came back with a real haircut and a permanent frown and a bunch of new friends you play sentence Twister to avoid pronouning. “I know they’re nice people, I got it. I’m just not ready.”
“It’s just—you’re kind of waiting for them to ask?” says the Ghost of Christmas Present. They scratch their face, where they have spectral sideburns coming in. “Your dad thinks you have a head cold. ‘Cause of your voice. But your mom’s starting to get it.”
You pull the covers over your head. “Cool, awesome, didn’t ask.”
“She isn’t going to ask,” the ghost says. “She wants you to tell her.”
You stick your middle finger out from underneath the covers. When you check, the room is empty again.
#
The Ghost of Christmas Future doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you. You look back. You probably have bedhead. You fixed your daytime wardrobe but your pajamas are still lacy and purple.
“How come you’re a man?” you say.
He says, “I think you know.”
“Fucking—go away.”
“I have something to show you first.”
“Are we going to the goddamn graveyard?”
He doesn’t say anything but then you’re in the goddamn graveyard. Together. Looking at your headstone. The dates are close enough together to make you kind of sick.
“They went with the full name,” you say.
The ghost nods.
“Not even the nickname. My nice gender neutral nickname.”
The ghost shrugs. You kind of want to throw something at him but you’re just looking at it now. Chiseled in marble. Immovable. What’s that thing bigots on the internet say, about someone digging up your jawbone two hundred years from now? You always wanted to think you wouldn’t care.
The Ghost of Christmas Future’s pretty quiet. This is the part where Scrooge goes full breakdown. Tears, begging, promises.
“I’m not gonna cry on you,” you say.
“Okay.”
So neutral. “Man, what do you want me to say?”
“Nothing,” says the ghost. “I think you’re there.”
You can’t stop looking at the headstone. “God fucking damnit shit. You promise they’ll be cool?”
“Nothing’s promised,” the ghost says. He gestures at the graveyard. “Except for this.”
“Awesome.” Cryptic cliche philosophical ghost bullshit. Yada yada. Death and taxes. Not with that name on your headstone, though. Not with that name on your tax forms, either.
You turn to tell him that and then you’re blinking in bed. There’s still one glow-in-the-dark star stuck to your ceiling where the glue never wore out. You put those up like ten years ago. Maybe longer. The light in the room says it’s morning. You swing your lacy-pajama legs over the side of the bed and go to ruin Christmas.

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seeing a doctor who just accepts my case as fairly predictable and talks to me like I'm a regular person who happens to be dealing with some very specific medical issues. is healing. this guy had a little laminated flipbook with diagrams he used to explain the biomechanics of what they are going to be looking for when they do the ultrasounds and how those things might impact my body and what the treatments might be if they find them. he was neither condescending nor inaccessibly jargon-y. just very straightforward and matter of fact. at one point I sort of gratefully expressed how much I appreciated him discussing everything with us so thoroughly and he just looked at me blankly like he didn't understand what the alternative would be? like "but that's just my job..?" and I was like oh sir. i appreciate very much that you have that attitude about practicing medicine. but also (thousand yard stare)
I had noticed these strange little occurrences all my life. A bird would fly past my window and it'd sorta look like it was half there, half not. I'd glance up at a clock and for a moment, the second hand would be in two places at once. Never really thought much about it. I thought it was just normal. Someone told me once about the clock hand illusion where you flick your eyes and it looks like time stops for a half second or so, I figured it was something weird like that.
But one day, I think it was August 2021, I flipped a coin. Thinking back, I think it might have been the first time in my life I'd ever flipped a coin. But we were deciding where to eat, me and my friends.
And then it happened. The coin landed on the table, heads... and also on the floor, tails. I tracked the coin with my eyes, but suddenly realized I was looking at two things at the same time. It was like crossing your eyes, and seeing things kinda overlaid on top of eachother, kinda mixing and fading in and out, but with four eyes instead of two.
It was such a weird experience. At first I just stood there kinda motionless, trying to figure out what was going on. Then my friend bent down and picked up the coin off the floor, and said "Hah! Tails! Pizza!" and also she just stood there and said "Damnit. Heads. Guess we're gonna get burgers after all."
And I looked down at her and up at her at the same time.
That's really when the desynch started. I reached for the coin on the table and held a fuzzy, half-there, transparent coin in my hand.
I began to feel kinda sick. We got in the car and things got more and more confusing. Thank goodness I wasn't driving that day. My friends were having two increasingly different conversations and I just sat there kinda dissociating. By the time we got to the two different restaurants I was nauseated and I had a bad headache. I stayed in the car in the parking lot at the pizza place for a few minutes until the other car going to the burger place parked. One of my friends was worried and stayed with me, so that was nice. But when I tried getting out of the car, everything went wrong.
One of my bodies walked right into another car and fell down on the ground, while the other stopped and froze in place. The completely different sense of proprioception completely broke me.
I was basically bedridden for a week. Slowly I relearned how to move, and walk, and talk. I had two bodies, in two timelines, connected by a single consciousness. My brain(s?) had to learn how to control two bodies at the same time.
It's like, pretty weird, but I'm used to it these days. My two sets of eyes no longer overlay on top of one another, they're kinda separate. It's hard to describe. I think my brain got better at multitasking too, I can walk in one timeline and draw in the other, for example.
Things kept getting more and more different, as much as I tried to enforce keeping things the same. Finally I started seeing my therapist again.
I had to convince her that what I was experiencing was real. So I asked her to think of her favorite food and her favorite color. Then in the "Burger" timeline I asked her to tell me her favorite food, and in the "Pizza" timelines I asked her to tell me her favorite color. And I told her her favorite color in the burger timeline and her favorite food in the pizza timeline (Spaghetti and Red, btw.)
She quizzed me on a few other things and sometimes her answers differed between the two timelines which was pretty frustrating, and I don't think she really believed me at first, but she was nice enough to play along at least. And like, not have me committed.
I ended up scheduling my therapy so that I have meetings on pizza tuesday and burger friday, so they're kinda spaced out more evenly. It also just makes the meetings a little less confusing. Ironically doing the same thing in both timelines is actually more distracting than doing different things.
In late 2022 I transitioned. I decided to come out in the burger timeline and stay in the closet in the pizza timeline, so if everything fell apart I'd still have one normal timeline. And like, my parents did not support me. Most of my friends did, but some of them drifted away. And I found that just made me resentful of my parents and those friends in the pizza timeline. And the dysphoria of being a guy in the pizza timeline while living as a woman in the burger timeline was killing me. So when I got on HRT in early 2023 I decided I couldn't take it anymore, I had to transition in both timelines. So I did. Ironically things went a little smoother in the pizza timeline, probably because I was already more confident about presenting female.
I ended up making some transfem friends in the burger timeline, and I sought them out in the pizza timeline too.
It's kind of a mixed bag, this phenomenon. You know like, pain is a lot worse. One week I had a bad tummy ache in the pizza timeline and a bad toothache in the burger timeline. Or like, if I have back pain in one timeline, not having back pain in the other timeline doesn't relieve the feeling at all.
It's such a cool thing, like. When I first started out I had all these conflicting signals in my limbs and body and stuff. But now it's just like. Yeah I have a pizza arm and a burger arm, just like I have a left arm and a right arm. They're the same, but different.
When I make a drawing in one timeline, I don't have access to it in the other timeline, which is really annoying because I keep wanting to show people art I made in the other timeline. One day I'll figure out some kind of interdimensional data transfer protocol. I mean I guess I could like, convert the file into hexadecimal text, and then manually type it out and hope I don't make any mistakes. I'd have to compress the hell out of the file though. Maybe I'll try that one of these days when I don't have anything to do in either timeline.
But I get to spend more time with my friends, because I can schedule hanging out on different days of the same week. Does get kinda confusing when I confuse things that happened in one timeline for another.
Because like, ever since that coin flip, the timelines have been steadily moving further apart. You'd be surprised how little the weather has changed. Like, sometimes there's a little rain shower in one timeline a few minutes earlier than in the other, but all the big storms and hurricanes and stuff are basically the same. I guess it's harder to influence these continent-scale systems than the butterfly effect predicts.
I get to see almost twice as much meteors during meteor showers because I can look in two directions at once. Meteors hit the atmosphere in exactly the same way at exactly the same time.
But it does affect a lot of other little things. Even when you don't realize it, you affect the lives of everyone you come into contact with in little ways, and that spreads. I know people with different jobs in each timeline, people who have different relationships. Even people I don't know that well.
I wasn't quick enough in the pizza timeline to keep my friend from. Well. To save my friend's life. But I rushed over to her house in the burger timeline and talked her down. It's so weird, grieving a person you still talk to every week. Because it ended up being this kind of abstract pain. Everyone else is missing her and you're standing there like. Yeah. I have plans to see a movie with her on burger tuesday. I went to her funeral just to make sure that I saw the dead body so I could really internalize that she was gone. And I still didn't cry. It made me feel like a terrible person.
My friends never really take me all that seriously when I talk about being split like this. They kinda play along but I can tell they think it's a joke. It's whatever. But my friend's girlfriend came into my DMs one night sobbing and cry-typing and begging me to let her talk to her gf one last time. I wasn't sure it was a good idea. But I relented, and made plans to have a sort of interdimensional seance.
I could tell my friend--we'll call her Elsie, and we'll call her girlfriend Robin. I could tell Elsie was pretty awkward about it. I think she felt guilty on behalf of her other, dead self. Robin kept saying stuff like "how could you kill yourself, how could you do this to me," and I would have to say that, and Elsie was just like "I'm sorry." And it was really hard to get Robin to understand that we weren't talking to Elsie's dead spirit, we were talking to her in another timeline. I told her she didn't have to apologize, and I told Robin that guilt tripping the dead was kind of rude.
After that things went a little more smoothly, Robin asked about how Elsie's life had gone, how their relationship had progressed you know like if they were still together, things like that. Elsie said some stuff that I wouldn't have known, and Robin was like. Wow you really are talking to Elsie aren't you?
And I was just like :| yep.
Ever since then my friends keep trying to get my help with stuff. Like they'll ask me what their other self is doing, like, ok, for instance, my friend, we'll call her Jane, she wanted to ask out her crush, and she was like ok. Can you ask the burger version of my crush if she likes me back. Which kinda throws the burger version of her under the bus doesn't it!
And another of my friends wanted to know if she'd regret quitting her job, so she told me to ask the other her to quit her job, and then if it went well she'd do the same. I did ask, and she said no, obviously.
The kinda scary thing is, every once in a while I'll see some of those artifacts that I used to see, like, little tiny desynchs within each timeline. I only recently got used to being in two timelines at the same time, I don't think I can handle being in three or four. My brain's already better at handling the desynch, like, one time I managed to move my finger in two directions at once all in the pizza timeline. But I'm really scared of the desynch multiplying over time. Maybe it's inevitable, but my main strategy is just to not flip any coins for the rest of my life.
Remember to never trust anything you see or hear or think, this is how you can become a Gaylor Truther
Qanon for white women who "don't get politics"
always some new bullshit in the ocean
Why is it always orcas or dolphins
Why can't a salmon do some bullshit for once
worry not ☝️ they're doing coke

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rip to the guy who posted his very expensive yixing teapot to r/tea, only for the comments to be not compliments on his taste as he expected, but instead GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY and I SHOULD CALL HER. he then crossposted it to r/gongfutea, which is ordinarily more dignified and self-serious, but was it? was it?? of course not, because this is reddit, and this was the teapot
Would you still love me if the gun left my hand?
Dungeon crawling game set in a domain where the law of the land states that all hoards, troves, sacred relics, cursed rings, talking swords, and other unclaimed treasures are the property of the Crown, with the retrieving party being entitled only to a modest finder's fee, and also it uses XP-for-gold advancement specifically pinned to the percentage of retrieved articles' value the character in question is able to legally claim; much of play thus consists of fabricating legitimate-seeming provenances for retrieved treasures in order to obscure the fact that they were pried out of a dungeon and thereby defraud the King.
(No, this is not "yet another tax fraud premise". Circumventing state ownership of unclaimed hoards is a different thing – more forgery and less math, for one!)
learned today that one of the hosts of a podcast I occasionally listen to was in the epstein files because of an incident wherein she was being sexually harassed/abused by a man who worked in her field -> she created a google doc for other women in said field to anonymously submit the names of men who had harassed/abused them -> one of these men sued for her for defamation even though she didn’t know him & didn’t even know who his victim was -> he couldn’t afford lawyers & reached out to epstein for funding -> epstein gave it to him -> after 5 years she was forced into a settlement & had to pay him over $100k. the way these predatory men find solidarity with each other is so so so profoundly evil
i hate it here man. whatever. vote blue no matter who. nothing matters anymore. let’s all hold hands and jump into a pit

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I will not call myself or other people "gooners" or "npcs" or "larpers". i will not call things i dont like "slop". i will not use terms like "-oids". i dont like how common language is slowly becoming more focused on shorthand terms for hate and apathy
Tags from @crystaltoa
When I was a kid watching tv was idiot coded and nerds read books, but now scrolling shortform videos is considered braindead behavior and watching tv means you're some kinda intellectual. You might think this shifting assessment of media's consumers might make readers into absolute super geniuses, but no. Only perverts read now.