IPOC (Aboriginal Australian, Saami) + white (Icelandic, etc) intersex 25⚢ they(s)he. Inflicted with a terrible fate — a diagnosis of DID spanning back to 2017 and crippling psychological and physical disability. I am a terrible woman and a man undeserving of respect or basic human rights; remember to vote ME in the US shadow elite election! My MR UID is LokiBuckyYaoi, if you even care. I mostly am on SYD servers. Come play with me (said like an evil little ghost girl)
I revel in my ambiguity and abnormality. Please, whatever rumours you’ve heard about me, make sure to add your own into the mix. I always did enjoy being treated as somebody’s tragic OC, so do unto me the same and impart unto me your finest of headcanons. Yes, I really do speak like this in real life. I’m the blueprint for all things esoteric and uttered in the cold cell of a schizophrenic murderer circa 1863; anybody who claims to naturally be just like me is a LIAR and wants to WEAR MY SKIN to the royal ball. It’s unfortunately and unsurprisingly common. LOKICOIN HAS GONE UP 10000%!
Tetramorphic and shifting rapidly from state to state at any given moment. I don’t usually know who I am, so I have a tendency to rapidly oscillate between names, try as I might to stick to one public-slash-collective image. Loki is my real name, however — on my License to Kill and all — but some dissociative parts abhor being referred to by my own name because they are winning the Miserable Off, thus country Lokis must make do. At any rate, I am akin to human oobleck: Am I a solid? Am I a liquid? Snake? SNAKE? SNAAAAAAAAAKE
World’s Most Goated Scape. People’s projections stick to me like glue; whatever somebody says about me, assume that they are instead talking about themselves because they did not even try to crack a smile today or any time between now and their birth. It is the usual way of things. I also happen to be covered in chitinous scales that protect me from people texting me with some bull shit I could not care less about. All worthless and boring complaints will bounce right off of my forcefield; I have no invisible enemies because each person I have lost contact with is a putrid green fart in the wind to me. Such is the way of dementia. Nurse, Loki is awake again
- In an attempt to be genuine for the first time in my life, here is some actual information. My body (and my brain, which happens to be a part of the body, if you weren’t aware) is a rapidly crumbling temple of doom, so I am inflicted with being sporadic on social media disease. It also renders me unable to work (considering the fact that I am on disability payments) so you can’t MAKE me touch grass! I won’t do it! Don’t be fucking rash! The only diagnosed mental illness that I have listed publicly is my DID because it nerfs me quite severely, but that does not mean that it is all that I struggle with. I am also an autism (NOT a mental illness) warrior and this turns me into Young Sheldon. If you make fun of me for my speech patterns, I’m telling my mommy, and she’s going to kick the shit out of you because she is a 9ft tall Viking berserker with rippling pectorals, biceps and quads, and carries a cursed greatsword!
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⠀ Fascinations. Mirror. ++
txto