Analyzing yuor posts

Remember watching this Spanish reaction when it first came out, in the scene where Jax tells Ribbit his backstory, Nico (the reactor) comments: "That's the worst thing you can do to someone who's confessing something to you. It's a complete betrayal to that person's feelings and on top of that, you send mixed signals by hugging them like nothing happened."

Then I think: That's kind of what Jax did throughout the show.

Then it hits me like a train:

Jax's mother laughed at him for opening up to her (very probably about being trans) and mocked his feelings, then hugged him like she'd done the right thing.

Jax, throughout the show and via his "archetypes" coping mechanism, repeatedly and consistently made fun of everyone's feelings by reducing them to funny cartoon quirks, then somehow didn't expect Gangle to be happier with Zooble and not want to be in his team nor Pomni to call him a "villain" in Gun Episode.

I am in elementary school. I have discovered something in myself that is different from my peers. I have no words to express this feeling, so I instead live in discomfort for years and years and believe it to be normal.

I am in seventh grade. I have lost my entire friend group because a rumor was spread that because I am queer, I must be a creep. My last sleepover with those friends was spent sitting in the same room as them while they texted each other talking shit about me.

I am in seventh grade. I have endured homophobic bullying from snarky comments to food being thrown at me in the cafeteria, and today finally swing back. I get one of the bullies on the floor and the teacher breaks us up. I get in trouble for fighting while she continues to bully me. Nothing is done about the bullying when I speak up about it.

I am in seventh grade. I am being outed to my entire classroom by the people I share a table with. They are walking to every single desk and telling each classmate I am queer. I watch as every head turns to look at me in disgust. I am completely alienated from that class and spend my days working alone.

I am fourteen or fifteen. The discomfort I have lived with my entire life finally has a name: dysphoria. I have come out to my family as trans. I am in my room alone on my birthday, crying because every card has "girl" on it.

I am fourteen or fifteen. I get a tone with a family member because I am tired of her excuses for continuously misgendering me. Her husband corners me outside and threatens to hit me if I ever talk back to her again, and tells me my identity is made up. My family sides with him.

I am fifteen and sixteen. I wish I could die instead of living in stagnancy.

I am seventeen. My country is passing law after law to restrict my community. Trans people are going missing and being murdered, and their lights are snuffed without so much as a whimper. I am disgusted and afraid and grieving alongside my trans brothers, sisters, and siblings.

I am twenty. I do not speak to much of my family anymore, my mother has only ever called me my birth name, and I have lost every single friend I ever had except one, and had to rebuild myself and my circle from the ground up. Family holidays are hollow. I have self harm scars permanently etched on my skin, purple half-moons under my eyes that are like stains at this point, and I will never forget how I have been treated and what I have endured. My heart breaks knowing millions out there experience the same things and worse.

I am twenty. I am crying in my boyfriend's arms about not feeling like a real man. I am hearing him reassure me that he sees me for me and he loves me as the man I am. My small friend group strictly calls me by my chosen name and pronouns. I am in love, I have more support than ever, and for once, I'm starting to feel glad I'm alive, glad that I held on. For once, I have hope.

letting rats fall into the rice pot violates the buddhist concept of nonviolence, ahimsa. and this is one of the more dauntingly advanced cookbooks i've ever seen

ingredients: 1 grain of dust.

To which I nodded solemnly, both out of agreement, surprise and also a healthy amount of awkward fear. He nodded and went, “You get it.”

I thought that would be the end of it.

Except ten minutes later he came back and told me he found out (she’s bi) and that both of us have a shot. I said “You more than me.” because he’s attractive and popular. 

My math teacher was trying to fix the rolling whiteboard and he just offhand said “This would be easier with a wrench”

I go through the drive through at the taco bell. This is the same taco bell that, three years prior, asked us how many sauces we wanted. My roommate responded with "we'd like to get lost in the sauce."

To which he said "lost in the sauce. Ok boss!"

And gave us an entire brown bag full of sauce packets that we are still working through to this day.

So our conclusion is that this store is operated by stoners, which is on par for a taco bell.

But anyhow, 2021, all I want is a burrito.

Pull up in the drive thru, order burrito. Compliment the cashier's nails, take the bag without checking, drive off.

I get home. I carry the bag all the way to the kitchen and set it down. The sound it makes is not the sound of a beefy five layer burrito. It rattles.

I realize now that something is wrong.

I look inside.

I find this:

Which I realize now in 2022 after hanging out with potheads that this is considerably more than 100$ of THC products but that's unimportant. I sit there for a few moments and just kind of stare at them asking myself

WHY does this KEEP HAPPENING to me?

Girlfriend comes in and sees this.

"Did someone pay you in smokeables again?"

"No, this is the new beefy 5 layer burrito from taco bell. Obviously."

I could keep them, but what would I DO with them? I didnt know any smokers at the time that I could sell them to. You cant really... pawn THC products in my state because it's a consumable and uhhhh... possession of such products is probably illegal? Fucking I dont know, if there's a law about it everyone seems to be ignoring it.

And I cannot stress this enough: I dont smoke! And yet people keep handing me these things for some reason.

But more importantly: it is now 6:00, I am starving, and I did not get my burrito. So i make a decision and i grab the bag of vape carts and I go back to get the food I ordered.

I go inside and stand at the counter. I quietly tell the cashier that I ordered a beefy five layer burrito, and I got this instead. I lift the bag. I gently drop the bag. It makes the very non beefy burrito rattle sound.

The cashier knows by sound what is in the bag. Her eyes go wide.

"I'm not mad," I tell her. "I dont want anyone in trouble. I'm just very hungry and would like the food I ordered."

She very quietly takes the bag beneath the counter and produces six coupons for a free taco. "We'll get your order to you in a moment, thank you for your patience."

I am... containing my urge to burst out in laughter because this urban legend stuff. This is 'that happened to my friends cousin' kind of story material and I'm just... waiting for my burrito.

The manager on duty approaches me and says:

"I understand you received something uhh.. other than your order." She thinks I'm gonna tell corporate. This shit is too funny for corporate. I am not telling corporate.

"I dont want anyone in trouble," I repeated. "I'd just like to make sure it gets back to its owner and make sure I get the burrito I ordered."

"Right. Right. Right away."

She gives me six more free taco coupons.

It is deathly quiet back there and I am trying so hard not to laugh at the absurdity of all of this. Like... how did I get here? What happened back there to lead me to this awkward situation? What farcical theater piece am I now a minor character in? Will I exit left persued by a bear?

The cashier returns with a bag. "Once again, I'm REALLY sorry."

I take the bag. I check it this time.

This is indeed a burrito.

"No need, all is well."

But I feel like an asteroid. I feel like the asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs. I was very, very guilty for years. I had to go to extensive therapy because I was like, “oh my god, I, Lochlan O'Neil, single-handedly destroyed fandom culture?”

She didn't she didn't she didn't. That wasn't it. She wasn't an asteroid.

She was the first skater that fell through the ice of Web 2.0.

I was also a teenager who found an amazing world, and My People, and friends I'd still talk to every day, on the internet. I spent years getting my mother to let me go to conventions and meet friends in distant cities. I started ambitious internet communities I didn't have the experience or skills to bring to fruition. I don't think there was a lot of difference between us, in a lot of ways. It's not that I was somehow smart or skilled or suave and she wasn't. She didn't have some awful planet-killing stink or velocity that she brought to the show.

The difference was this:

In 1994, when the Endless September began and the Internet felt perpetually full of stupid newbies, there were 20 million people online.

In 2001, when I got my first LiveJournal account, there were 500 million.

In 2012, when she joined Tumblr, there were 2.43 billion.

When I started out, and you joined a new messageboard or chatroom or mailing list, you had to introduce yourself to the community. Except in the biggest of websites, people expected to log onto the internet, read through all the new things that had been posted to their local bit of it, and then log off again. Older members took it upon themselves to greet the newbies and answer any questions they might have, directing them to the relevant community FAQs. People would say things like, "Oh yes, I remember you. This is only your second Thursday with us, right? I hope you have fun!"

I joined an Internet full of adults who got online through their jobs or their universities, one of the first wave of kids allowed to roam free. And the proportion of adults to kids kept steadily changing, but until DashCon, I don't think people understood how much. I remember a discussion that happened in early 2000s slash fandom, where the very true observation was made that in particular artistic ways, we had all agreed to suspend shame, which created a unique kind of space. As a community we could all admit that we were there to be embarrassingly enthusiastic in unusual ways about absolute nerd shit, and we understood that it wasn't life or death, it wasn't rocket surgery, but it also wasn't going to get broadcast onto the clouds and our bosses didn't know who we were. Everyone was (willing to act like) an adult, and we could hold the circle and create safety there.

That felt like a lot of geek spaces, then. Anime conventions, science fiction conventions, furry conventions, videogame stores, D&D meetups. Images were bulky and pixelated, video incredibly hard to move. When you got to a con, it was like a brief oasis of Weird that sheltered you and screened you from view, and you ended up volunteering because the weary, cynical, intelligent, kind people in the con ops office looked like you were throwing yourself in front of a bullet just for offering to run a clipboard down to the other end of the hotel for them.

The ice was thick enough to skate on. The circle was strong enough to let you be brave and funny and silly and free, and you could buckle down with some friends and clean all the trash out of the ballroom by 11am on Sunday, and you'd see everyone next year.

The bubble was going to burst, but nobody seemed to worry about it.

Things were changing fast for fans, all kinds of fans, in the early 2010s. Conventions that used to get news coverage like "Local Freaks Weird Out Hotel Employees: This Weekend Only" to "#Cosplay: The Hottest New Trend" and from Geocities sites that shut down if you exceeded your page visits for the month to AO3 getting 10 million pageviews a week.

It was great. We could conquer the world together. We could stay safe and together and the circle would hold.

And then the ice broke open and Lochlan fell through. Right through the bottom of that goddamn ballpit into freezing arctic sea. Right into years of people sorting through the churned ice of the wreck, taking years to come to the realization that there really had not been ANY goddamn adults in the room making sure things were okay. The community had not actually failed so much as never been formed in the first place.

Because as it turns out, group-bonding techniques that work for 100 or 1000 people do not work for 10,000. Or 100,000. Or one million. Or one billion.

That line about agreement to suspend shame sticks with me all these years after because the defining feature of post-Dashcon Tumblr has been shame. And scorn, contempt, derision, and hatred. Cringe, in short, and kys. Exactly the kind of bullshit I saw every day in junior high school, and ran to the Internet and fan conventions to get away from.

I got the kind of community and mentorship and support that have made fandom a refuge and a resource my whole life. Lochlan O'Neill didn't. Not because there was anything worse or dumber or less experienced about her.

Because a system built in the 1990s was incapable of bearing the stress of a load fifty times bigger than what was already "way too full."

Just because I'm from one generation, and she's from another.

part three of timeline reveal for jaxs playground tadc au

jaxs playground tadc au masterpost

here we go we reach the alternative show events timeline and more real world background development as part of my au backstory

the links to all timeline posts and lore drop posts are in the masterpost

so what do we have going on here