You may address me as Capricious, or Nurse, if you must. Those unfortunate enough to know me in some faded, distant past may recall the name “Xiao”—though such familiarity is a privilege reserved for the few who’ve earned it. Refer to me solely with feminine language. That is not a request, but a fact of my being. They/them is a distortion, a limp attempt to label what it cannot comprehend. He/him—a grotesque misstep, tolerated only in the rarest of instances where trust runs deep and intention is as gentle as a scalpel's kiss. Should such words be uttered with venom or mockery, I will discard them like the remains of a failed experiment.
I am a quiet amalgamation of identities I hold close. A dutiful nurse, elusive feline, and pale creature of the night. A vampire, if metaphor serves.
I am bound to my spouse, a bond sealed on April 19th, 2024. Flirting, whether serious or merely a pointless distraction—will be met with the silence it deserves.
I have been formally diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, among other mental afflictions. As a yumejoshi, I prefer my affections solitary, though I may allow brief moments of shared attention, provided they remain devoid of competition. The only person I am entirely unwilling to share is Wednesday Addams. Speak of her romantically, or in any context at all, and you will find yourself permanently blocked.
I do not use tone indicators, nor do I require them. I expect the same in return. If my words trouble you or their intent is unclear, speak plainly and I will answer in kind. I am often perceived as solemn, perhaps severe—but appearances are a poor judge of truth. If you find yourself uncertain, speak with honesty. I respond only to clarity, not coddling.
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