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Okay. Story time.
My aunt brought home two tins of “Halloween hot chocolate mix”- one in purple and one in orange.
My hopes were already pretty low, seeing as how the ingredients made no mention of this containing any cocoa or chocolate flavor…
I decided to try the purple first.
Big mistake.
I struggled to get the damn tin open- it was sealed almost like what I’d picture rations to be. A metal cap set in the center of the lid that I had to pry out with a butter knife.
Eventually, the peculiar purple powder breached containment.
The first thing I noticed was not actually the color, but the smell- of some kind of chemical, almost burning-like.
I added a bit of food-safe glitter because Why The Fuck Not, dusted the required amount over hot water, and let it set.
I was met with a light lavender liquid, with the consistency of used pasta water.
The spoon felt heavier than it should have. The smell was still there.
I began to fear the worst.
And carefully, I took the first sip. There was my second mistake.
There was no chocolate flavor. Hell, there was barely any flavor at all. But what was there was that chemical smell- now reborn as taste- alongside a sickening sweetness.
I had to purge it.
But I still had the other tin to test.
Frightful indeed.
This tin was sealed the same way, and when I managed to unseal it, I was greeted by the same chemical smell, albeit a bit fainter.
The powder inside was near pigmentless, a pale white compared to the lavender of the other tin. I tried a bit without water, and to my surprise, I almost could taste something akin to chocolate flavoring.
“Maybe this one won’t be so bad,” I foolishly assured myself. And so I prepared another mug of hot water, poured in the serving size, and let it set. No food glitter this time.
Coloration of pumpkin soup. Same consistency as the other batch… and yet again, I was assailed by that stench.
One last time, I braved to taste it.
Vile. Sickeningly sweet with undertones of chemicals and the feeling that anything resembling chocolate was in another fucking area code.
Once again, I had to purge it.
I am sorry for what I put you through, little pumpkin mug.
Oh, but if only that was the end of this nightmare. But alas, when I awoke this morning- bright and early because of adult responsibilities- a familiar specter of scent greeted me.
The foul stench of this culinary heresy had settled upon my vessel, rooted itself within my very being!
In consuming this accursed nectar, in breaching the wards that kept it from our mortal realm… I released a monster.
It follows. It lingers. And the herald of its doom… is the faintest smell of artificial sweeteners.
bored, brain spew time- my experiences with gender are Weird.
born AFAB in the US south, several forms of neurodivergence (Autism, ADHD, anxiety, depression, possible BPD but that one’s just a theory), mom was/is very open about gender and whatnot, dad didn’t/doesn’t like talking about it
went to a private Christian school for grades K-3, very “tomboy” like for those years. sometimes asked to be referred to by my middle name because it was more neutral than my first one- not knowingly for gender reasons at the time but looking back that was not cis behavior lmao
never really processed what it *meant* to be perceived as fem/masc/nb until middle/high school years, existed Purely On Vibes until then
Socially awkward disaster for almost my entire schooling time. Had trouble understanding conversation rules (thanks, mostly-unmedicated Autism /s), but with extensive training I eventually just ended up as a robot, silent for fear of overstepping and being rude
did a lot of reading about LGBTQ+ identities in the hopes of being considerate to my classmates
brain clicked with demigirl and/or genderfae for almost all of middle school
quarantine hits and most of my interactions shift to being online. internet kinda defaults to he/him when talking about randos in game lobbies… matter of time until I get referred to as such… and it isn’t uncomfortable? kinda vibe with it??
start experimenting with various labels:
agender didn’t work because I still was okay with being perceived as she/they/he;
bi-gender didn’t feel right either;
stuck with genderfluid for a while but it felt a bit too rigid- like I had to pick which mode I was in constantly to fit the description;
knew it was SOME kind of non-binary but I didn’t know much about the various umbrella and sub-type terms
‘bout a year into quarantine, still in school, making pride pins because I wanted to sell them and make money somehow, did some more research, learned about genderqueer.
and then the lightbulb finally stopped flickering and stayed on.
as of late, I’ve done more reading because a lot of the folks I talk to in Tavern-Frontiers and the surrounding groups are also LGBTQ+. found a label called “gendervague”- gender perception impacted by neurodivergence. while I’m personally not gonna use it as a main label, it definitely fits as a description of the clusterfuck that is my experience with identity
best way I can describe how I identify is “fuck if I know, call me whatever makes it easier.” General vibes I feel with different sets below:
she/her- born with it, used to it, okay with it
he/him- still feels new but I can work with it (I mostly use this when I refer to myself online, to help get used to it)
they/them- good default, not as natural as she/her but also not as exciting as he/him
it/its- :pensive_robot: yeah (nothing really wrong with it, but I’d rather call myself it than be called it)
neopronouns- never tried before, funky and new! (good funky, like a new genre of music- not bad funky, like socks)
Ari under a window-glare
*plus a sleepy, grumpy Buddy who chirped at me for trying to take his picture*
just saw a wizard laugh with a voice not his own and say “the NyQuil hours approacheth thee”
damn this head-sickness is fucking with me
I SWEAR I’M NOT DEAD
apology cat: Tzumba, the local “stray”
he’s an old boi who’s very chatty and lives about a block away
stray in quotations because he technically has owners but I don’t think they let him inside so he just kinda wanders around (hence his title)
Almost always at my doorstep because my family feeds him better than his own family does
very soft, likes headpats
Tzumba being a nosy old man- including when he randomly jumped into my ma’s car
