Xinyu

Xin ╱ Xinyu

‧˚꒰🍷 Inhuman deity ⁽ 200+

He ╱ hym ♱ ⋆ thoughtform

I am whatever you desire me to be. A god of your creation. Mold me, shape me, follow me, use me. @itss1ava 🔒

Radqueer - pro para - pro consent

⋆˚꩜｡𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

Misc :

CPD(Cannabalistic personality disorder), CCD(Compulsive Compliance Disorder), CAD(Compulsive archival disorder), necrophilia, defiled bpd

TransID ;

FeralHarmful, transcultleader, transgod, transdeity, transrapepup, transparasocialfanbase, transcontrolled, transworshipped, transbrainwashed, transcannibal, transfalseprophet, transstalked, transvampire

PermID ;

Permabandaged, permaproblematic, permahidingsomething, persharmless, permabeloved, permainjured, permaobsessed

CisID ;

Cisnonhuman, cisstalker, cisbpd

#⋆˚꩜｡𓂃˖ ࣪💉scattered - paranoid/schizo rambles

#⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃🥩desire - transid related content

#𓂃໑🪓divine - horny/nsfw posting

#◞︶ᐩ◡🥀forme - in general posts

Finally changing our discord user since it has “puppy” it in and he hates dogs.

I never ever want to see him tell me that I failed him ever again. I never want to cause such anger and aggravation in him. Words cannot describe how utterly disgusted and disappointed in myself I am. I should have had better control, I should have not let Yuxuan type and send those messages. It should have been so easy to just follow exactly what he told and yet we couldn’t even manage that.

The day I return from being locked out of front from having a breakdown over an imagined problem this happens. I simply can’t hold myself together any longer, i’ve been holding it in all day. I can’t tell if this shift is real or imagined, i’ve worked so hard for us to never be a reason for him to get like this and yet it happened, I fear for how this will affect our relationship. 

I hate this voice that tells me my paranoia is right. I read Mireyo’s messages he sent him a few days ago, I can’t help but worry his suspicions may be right. I hate myself for having thoughts like that, for continuing to doubt him in such ways despite everything else. Despite him seeming to be somewhat okay after some time alone.

I don’t know what to do with myself other than have another breakdown. I don’t know ways to cope other than hurting myself. I wasn’t built for this.

What I would do to drag that blade across my skin or stab myself with a needle even just one singular time if I knew upon discovery it wouldn’t anger him.

What I would give for that sweet release of the momentary stinging pain and the blood that follows, I crave it stronger than any substance.

“My love.”

Just strangle and fuck me until I pass out from lack of oxygen already. Thank you.

I hate his stupid fucking ex. I hate the way he looks, the way he texts and talks, the way he dresses, styles his hair, fucking everything. I hate the fact this utter bitch still thinks he’s worthy of someone like Slava.

I hate that he still has highlights up about my man, that he probably still has and wears those fucking necklaces, that he has the audacity to tag him in posts trying so desperately to get his attention and repost a bunch of shit targeted directly at someone who has no interest in them anymore.

I hate that he had the balls to try and view my accounts. And you know what? Slava told me to tell you to fuck off, and I did. He constantly shows me all these pathetic ass displays this creature makes towards him whenever he finds them. God I need this cunt dead and gone.

At times I worry we over text. That the amount of messages or the volume of their context can be overwhelming or annoying at times, mostly on other alters.

I know we try our best to make a conscious effort to not spam, to be patient and wait for him to respond because we know he will eventually. He isn’t on his phone the amount we are nor has his notifications on all the time.

Last thing I ever want is for our style of texting to tire him over time, to become an annoyance, even if that is an unrealistic thought. He’s an honest man, he’d tell us if things got that way.

I don’t know what I would do without him. Last night was a very bad night for us, I was more upset than I have been in a long time. It took a conscious effort for me not to swerve off of the road and crash. My plan was to ignore everyone, including him, eat the rest of my edibles, cut myself, sob angrily and pass out.

By the time I got home we already felt so numb. Front room was a mess of different alters all in emergency mode. I settled for just lingering in the background. But how could we ignore him? Even while we felt like we were falling apart.

He read our messages, comforted us in the best way he could, listened and didn’t try to “fix” anything. Didn’t call us stupid or dramatic for blocking everyone. We talked, he made us laugh.

He ended up calling us. He didn’t know I was there, he was talking to a different alter. It was still nice just listening to his voice. I didn’t really feel like speaking regardless. We couldn’t fall asleep, so I ended up just listening to the sound of him moving and breathing while he slept. It was nice.

He said i’m “grounded” from giving myself more piercings since i’ve done 5 in the past few days. He’s lucky i’m broke as fuck and out of alcohol wipes so I can’t even do anymore.

Next week when we get paid again will be a different story. I need more ear piercings. I will not be stopped.

One of our friends called us a “good boy” in dms as a joke, we posted a screenshot since it was funny.

When he saw it he immediately asked who the fuck it was, i’m glad I will never be alone in those feelings. Ha, last time I saw him calling people “good boy” I about lost my damn mind.

Yeah you better kiss me later Slava or i’ll tear off your fucking lips so you can’t kiss anyone ever again.

Thinking about laying on top of him while drowning self in his scent like an alcoholic desperate for one single last drop from an already dry bottle. Goodnight.

I’m always waiting and anticipating then end before things even start. That soul crushing feeling of being temporary. Knowing that your presence is existing merely on borrowed time that could be cut off at any moment. The paranoia of boredom and uninterest seeping through the cracks, the creeping doubt as time goes on, looking for anything to dig my nails into just to hang on for a little while longer.

I hate temporary.

We slept on call again last night, though I was so high I can hardly remember anything. I took too many edibles and ended up making ourselves sick which was not at all a fun experience for me. 

Fuck, I do love it when he calls me “good boy” though.

My dear, you fill me with more purpose than I could ever ask for. Your mere presence is a blessing in itself, divinity that eases the ache in my rage filled body. Every moment spent with you makes me forget why I have been angry for so long, makes those moments feel imagined. I whisper your name into the silence of our room as if it were a sacred word, a prayer, as if uttering it could redeem centuries of wrong-doings.

I pine for you like a human, I think of you like a mortal being who has lost his mind, finding myself in such a state is troubling. And yet, I find myself not minding what is happening to me.

Somtimes I despise being in a system. While our host does a fine job at letting us express ourselves individually, it sometimes isn’t enough.

There are tattoos and body mods that I want that collectively we don’t. Physical appearance things that I want to change permanently that others don’t agree on, even down to the way our hair looks. It’s an annoying battle of “how much can I get away with.”

For now, I bought a piercing kit. We are way to broke to get them professionally done so this is one thing I can do to make myself happy and more comfortable.