#correct genitalia for my birthday

[crows--den]

Choosing to have parents was the best possible choice I could've made.

[xxsycamore]

SEXY AFFAIRS

╰┈➤ 💜 Amahiko is late and condemns you to bathing alone, something unheard of in this sharehouse. It's his duty as World Sexy Ambassador to make it up to you and to properly apologise.

Tendo Amahiko x Gender Neutral Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: no pronouns or stated genitalia for reader; reader bottoms; Sharing Clothes; Scent Kink; Established Relationship; Neck Kissing; Groping; Making Out; Size Kink; Penis Size; Muscles; Hair Kink; Fluff; Pole Dancing; Strip Tease; Blow Jobs; Sex Positions; Sex Positive; Sloppy Makeouts; Lube; Fingerfucking; Hand & Finger Kink; Creampie; Come Eating; Humor; Aftercare • wordcount: 4,645 • masterlist

a/n: This started out as something unserious but here we are 4,6k words later... Happy Sexy Birthday Amahiko

It's late in the afternoon when Amahiko finally returns home.

He'd promised you to return earlier today, and here he got caught in his business outside yet again... Despite the evident haste in his demeanor as he enters the living room, he stops to properly greet his housemates Terra and Iori.

As Iori immediately appears behind Amahiko to take his jacket for him, Amahiko worriedly asks if anyone knows where you are.

"In the bathroom. But it should be any second now that-"

Like clockwork, just as Amahiko looks in the direction of the door, it opens to reveal you stepping into the living room.

"Amahiko, you're back! I knew my Amahiko-radar could be trusted! Welcome home!"

"…You just heard his voice, didn't you."

Terra's comment remains unnoticed as you and Amahiko rush at each other for a welcome hug, ignoring the rest of the world around you.

"Thank you. I'm truly sorry for making you wait and returning home late. I hope you can forgive me."

Your heart is softened by the pure regret in his baby blue eyes, the worry painted across his features as well as the gentle hold of his large hands as he takes yours in them to emphasize his humble apology. You gawk and smile widely at him, reassuring him readily.

"Of course I forgive you! But truth to be told… I just had the loneliest bath in the world without you. I had forgotten how cold and lonely a bathtub could be without you in it. It wasn't sexy at all…"

Amahiko gasps, and his thick eyebrows arch in a frown.

"I'm such a fool."

Averting his gaze in shame, it's only then that he notices what you're wearing.

"Is this my…?"

You nod somewhat shyly, tugging the clothing tighter around you and nuzzling into it.

"Your bathrobe, yes… actually… I used your shampoo too, and your bodywash…! Alas… the scent of Amahiko was with me, but Amahiko himself still was not."

Touched as he is right now, aside from producing a small, sincere moan, Amahiko's own words betray him as he can only sink to his knees in a deep bow.

"I'm awfully sorry to have done that to you. In the future, I promise that this Tendo Amahiko will do his best so that you can never bathe alone again!"

Holding your hands over your mouth in shock at his heartfelt apology, you hurriedly tell him to get up. Meanwhile Terra whom both of you have forgotten that is still there, joins in the conversation not paying much mind to the intense exchange happening in front of him.

"So does that mean that you two are exclusive right now?"

Amahiko, now back on his feet, turns to face Terra with a relaxed smile. "No, that isn't correct. The right term would be that we are in a polyamorous relationship with all the perverts in the world."

"I wish I didn’t ask."

You tug at Amahiko's sleeve to catch his attention once more. "Never mind me waiting for you Amahiko, I think you have a bigger problem to worry about! With you being out for so long, the sexy levels seem to have dropped drastically around here! Here I thought I could save the situation wearing your sexy bathrobe but I'm afraid that's a job for the 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕 𝕊𝕖𝕩𝕪 𝔸𝕞𝕓𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕣 to take care of."

Amahiko listens carefully to your concerns, and only as you say these three words do the smile appear back on his face. With newfound confidence, he holds his head high and gives a firm nod.

A familiar melody plays out of nowhere, making everyone turn their head around in search of a pole coming up from the ground. With the impressive number of poles installed in the sharehouse, one could never be quite prepared for the location of the next pole dance show. But given the way the music sounds muffled, as if coming from another room, it would most likely not be here.

"I have not forgotten my duty. Tonight too, thank you for appointing me. However, I'm afraid I cannot take on this mission alone if I want to achieve great results."

Amahiko looks straight at you, stretching out his hand, waiting for you to put your own on top of it.

"Without further ado, let's go. We have sexy affairs to take care of."

Fascinated out of your mind, you snap out of the trance, determinedly accepting his offer. Hand in hand, you and Amahiko bid the others goodbye as you take off in the direction of Amahiko's room, which seems to be the source of the music.

The living room gets comparatively quiet once again.

Terra lets out a sigh, turning the page of his magazine and returning to his usual radiant smile as he's beyond letting any obstacles in the way of his leisure time.

"Iori, come here and cover my ears with your hands for the next two hours."

"Haaai~!"

Once inside Amahiko's room, you're greeted by alluring lights flashing from above, a lone pole waiting in the middle of the room. Albeit Amahiko enters right behind you, he remains with his hand on the handle.

"Should we keep the door open? That way the air of our combined sexiness could reach the others better."

"Amahiko…" You feel your cheeks heating up, putting your own hand ontop of his and slowly pushing the door until it closes with a soft click. Seeing your display of shyness, Amahiko can't help himself. He pins you to the now-closed door, getting a soft gasp out of you. He's so close suddenly, his warm breath fanning over your freshly bathed skin where the waterdrops had just cooled it off. But just before his lips could touch you anywhere, on your nape, or your chin, or on your own parted mouth anticipating his kiss, he halts his ministrations and withdraws.

"I have something to tell you before we begin. Earlier, you said that you couldn't do anything about the lowered sexy levels even while wearing my bathrobe. That's simply not right. For you are…the sexiest sight I've seen."

You're not sure if it's because of you forgetting how to breathe for a moment or the music truly just slowed down, adopting a sultrier tone to it, as if to match the scene of his confession.

"Oh…Amahiko…"

Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, Amahiko breathes in a lungful of your scent, that actually belongs to him to begin with.

"To think you'd bathe yourself in my scent… you're bold and mischievous. Don't you know by the time we finish here, you'd smell like me no matter what?"

"Ahh-" You let out a moan too early, solely at the way he's already making love to you with his words alone, but your next moan is caused by something way more tangible. The hotness of his breath has nothing on the hotness of his tongue, as he licks a wet strip across your neck.

Grabbing onto his shoulder for purchase, you feel your legs getting weaker with the sudden tantalizing attack. Wanting to get back at him, you will yourself into regaining your balance so your hands can roam free again. You know Amahiko loves to be felt up. You give him plenty of it, sliding your open palms down the small of his back and arriving at his well-formed ass, giving it a firm squeeze with both hands and then traveling further down on his sides to feel for his toned, muscular thighs, the result of hours upon hours of tireless training. Then moving to the top again, because you desperately need to be held closer in his embrace, you focus on his back. It's so broad; amidst the hug you measure it with your hands and let a pleased sound escape you.

Amahiko moans as one of your hands finds the front of his pants, feeling for a sign that he's enjoying this as much as you are. He attacks your neck again with a fervent suck against the skin.

The bridge of his nose brushes against your still-wet hair and a single waterdrop runs down his cheek, making him pause and chuckle.

"I got ahead of myself, but being seduced like that, I hope you can understand me. Now, can you please take a sit on the bed?"

"What are you planning, Amahiko?"

"Sexy blow-dry!"

Leaving yourself in Amahiko's capable hands, you let yourself be utterly spoiled as he blows your hair dry for you. You're pleased to know the act was as stimulating for him as it was to you, with the feeling of his fingers running through your scalp keeping the fire inside you alive. For any other couple, this could be a distraction from the main event of the night, but for you and Amahiko, it's simply foreplay - after all, he's knowledgeable of the sensitivity of the scalp, even considered an erogenous zone. He pays special attention to the area behind your ears and around your neck, not forgetting to gently tug at your hair as well.

The way he took a moment to reassure you earlier, the way he takes proper care of you instead of devouring you at the door, it all makes you fall head over heels for him all over again. What kind of pamper play is that?!

Putting the dryer away and taking a sit behind you on the bed once again just in time to hear your dreamy sigh, Amahiko hums softly with curiosity. The way his broad frame envelops your from behind messes up with your head, and you give him no answer. You simply drop down to the fluffy duvet, turning over on your back so you can admire his towering-over-you form.

Not paying attention to the way his bathrobe has opened up to reveal more of your skin to his eyes, you let out a small giggle at the audacity of your upcoming request before it's even left your lips. Decisively, you wait for Amahiko to return his gaze to your own before you speak.

"I was being sincere earlier when I said I forgive you for returning home late. Please don't worry so much about these things. However… If you still want to make it up to me…"

Amahiko places one hand at the side of your head, then the other, practically caging you underneath him as he leans over you. His face is serious.

"I understand. You don't have to say another word."

And just like that, he withdraws again, making you thankful because you can now catch your breath, at least. Remaining on the bed, you see him get up and approach the pole at the center of his room.

The disco lights flash over his face, revealing a knowing little smile as Amahiko holds down your gaze. The glassy surface of his eight-wing wardrobe reflects his lit frame, doubling the head-spinning effect of the atmosphere cast by the multicolored lights. You find yourself the sole audience of an exquisite show, as Amahiko begins with simply walking around the metal pole gracefully. In just one turn, all of the buttons on his shirt fall open - you know by now that most of his clothes outside of the playtime costumes are chosen to be taken off easily for his own comfort. You've never seen someone take his shirt off so sensibly, baring one shoulder then the other, then swiftly sliding off the sleeves. The discarded item falls on the floor, and you remove your attention from it in order to take in the sight of Amahiko's now nude torso in its full glory. The light dances on its muscular forms, from his toned abs to the dips of his prominent hipbones where they disappear under his belt. Despite the elegant start, you know what's next by the way he moves his gaze from you to the pole: in just a second he takes a firm grip on it, performing a leap off the ground not unlike a predator chasing after its prey.

Gripping the pole with both hands, he pushes his pelvis up over his head, legs opening to a splits as he rotates at a slow pace. Next, he closes his legs around the pole, holding it between his hefty thighs, strong enough to uphold his weight. He times it perfectly so that he's facing you when he brings his torso up, seemingly folding in half, as you see him…catch the zipper of his red trousers between his teeth and pull it down.

He lets his upper body unfold until he's hanging upside down once again, hooking one leg and folding it so he can grab the pole between his legs, using the other hand to tug down the fabric until his pants' foot comes off, reversing and doing the same with the other.

The article of clothing falls to the ground, leaving him only in his underwear, a silky silver thong that makes a living mirrorball out of Amahiko parading himself on the pole. It catches the eye as it is, but even moreso now that the skimpy, thin fabric shows the outlines of his already erect cock. Amahiko seems to be enjoying himself, libido high as always.

He makes it look so effortless; as if he is weightless, the way he manipulates his own large body into submission, fluid motions calculated with such precision you're left staring in awe. What he does is art, and you're dead serious when you claim that each time you watch him performing it's like the first time. No amount of pole dancing done on the spur of the moment when provoked by the rest of the residents can dull your reaction to it.

Amahiko grants you a good view of his buttocks, flexing the muscles of his back and rear just for you, sneaking a look at you watching him.

He snakes the fingers of his left hand down his hip, penetrating underneath the thin strap and dragging it down with his motion. The tip of his cock pokes out, a bead of precome adorning it and making your mouth water. It's as if the sheer intensity of your gaze undresses Amahiko as the thong comes loose, sliding down to hang from one leg as Amahiko raises it to let the tiny underwear dangle from his foot until he unceremoniously throws it in your direction.

It's the end of Amahiko's show now that he's stripped down to his most nakedness, but he knows how to wrap things up with style.

A final fireman's spin puts accent on his proudly standing-up cock in its whole eye-candy glory, swinging around along with the rest of him just to make your mouth water.

And with that, he lands on the ground at very last.

You give him a round of applause, making sure to let him know how much he fascinated you. "Amahiko…that was incredibly sexy to watch…"

The man approaching you smirks in satisfaction with himself, sinking one knee in the round bed as he extends his hand in offer.

"I bet you wanted to touch me with more than your eyes?"

"I…yes. Please."

The unnecessarity of your last word becomes clear as Amahiko guides your hand to slide down his stomach until you feel the soft fuzz of his plum-colored pubic hair.

"Let me have a taste?"

Amahiko reacts vocally to your playful suggestion, cock pulsating visibly at the mere implication of a hot mouth wrapped around it. You trail your very fingertips down the prominent vein running down his pelvis, following it but avoiding any direct touch on Amahiko's arousal for the time being. As much as you want to wrap your hand around the thick girth, you feel like going straight for tonguing it this time.

"Amahiko will burst with ecstasy if you play with him too much."

"Maybe I want him to burst… in my mouth, and all over my face…"

"Ahhh!"

You give him no time to recover from the image you planted in his mind before lapping at the cock hanging in the air right in front of your face. You give his length a long lick from base to tip, savoring his salty, intoxicating taste that you find yourself addicted to, catching the bulbous head in your mouth and giving it a light suck, before withdrawing and letting his cock bounce.

"I can't help it Amahiko, I want to see you come again and again, and to join you in it until we're completely spent… Maybe it would be fair if you were to decide where you want to climax the first time, and then I get to play with you however I want?"

Amahiko sucks on a breath, sliding a hand down to tug on the base of his cock, cupping his heavy sack and staring at you with dark lust in his eyes. "I agree, however, I still have more apologizing to do. Allow me to pleasure you thoroughly first and give you all I've got. That's my decision."

He guides his cock so that the tip rubs on your velvety lips, precum smearing on them.

"So sexy."

You produce a low grunting noise deep in your throat in approval, not daring to open your lips while he's servicing himself with them. It's just a mere tease though, as in the next second he withdraws and shifts his body until he's fully seated on the bed.

"Let's remove this. Show me your sexy body."

He guides the bathrobe off your shoulders, the silky fabric pooling behind you as Amahiko lets out a low gasp, as if seeing you naked for the first time. He can't keep his hands to himself any longer, and you indulge him willingly, shortening the distance between you until you're welcomed in his lap.

"Today we'll try a position that lets me take care of multiple erogenous zones of yours at the same time. I think you'll find it quite pleasurable. But first, kiss me."

Your pulse quickens with anticipation, ready to be reduced to putty in his hands as wrings pleasure out of you. Amahiko possesses exquisite knowledge about the human body and the many ways it can be played with, you're at the mercy of a professional lover. You'd obediently let him turn, twist and pose you in any way he sees fit, motivated by the promise of drowning in ecstasy. Together, that's it.

You hurry to kiss him as he wished, nowhere as careful as he'd kiss you, but you know he'll love it all the same. His lips are pried to grant you an entrance and you boldly and vigorously invade his mouth, claiming every millimeter of it. He moans in the kiss, following your wild manners tit for tat, not minding the saliva escaping the corner of his mouth. You leave him thoroughly kissed and on edge, impatient to finally receive a stimulation that counts.

"Begin by laying on your stomach for me please."

Eager to comply, the haze occupying your mind already does half the work of getting you lying down again, and the bedding feels good as it rubs along your skin as you turn around. Your behind is now on display for Amahiko who is quick to guide you in the desired position.

"You may lay relaxed for now, at least until I prepare you for penetration." He helps you relax by emphasizing his words with a gentle caress down your back - even if it sends shivers all the way to your toes instead. It takes a lot not to wiggle your hips and spark at least some satisfaction where you need it the most, but you decide to be patient and good for him.

Even when facing away, you recognize the telltale sounds of a nightstand drawer sliding open and then closed with a soft thud a second later. It could be the hundred time Amahiko has taken care of you this way and you'd still find your arousal growing tenfold when this moment approaches. And your muscles all tense up as you feel his fingers coat and probe at your hole with the slippery lube.

"Are my fingers too cold?"

You groan a little at the novel for the night stimulation, reaching over your head for a pillow to drag under your head. Not for hiding your moans, no - letting your voice out was the first and most important lesson you learned in the bedroom of the World Sexy Ambassador - but clutching it in your fist and biting down on it, on the other hand, is welcomed.

"They're…perfect. Thick and long and so experienced."

"Thank you."

Accepting the compliment is not where Amahiko stops; he's eager to prove he deserves it as well, it seems, as he gets the hint about your impatience and puts his fingers in action.

"I know applying extra lubrication might be a burden for you when your body screams for release, but aside from being recommended when you're intimate with someone my size, it would enhance our pleasure. I want nothing but to make you overflow with it."

"Hnng- Please- I'm so ready for you-"

You know your body speaks for you more than your own voice does, as your insides squeeze tightly around Amahiko's slick-coated fingers. The gesture of him focusing on preparing you rather than pleasuring you is driving you insane, but you trust in how rewarding it would all be. The lewd noises of more lube being squeezed out leave you imagining how he applies it on his own cock, as you hear his deep moan. He must be giving his cock a nice stroke now, making sure it's perfectly erect and ready to pleasure you.

"Alright. Let us begin."

You moan in something that is neither pure delight nor frustration, hole spasming around nothing as Amahiko's fingers exit you. You feel his presence towering over your back as places his muscular thighs on either side of your own.

His hand is warm when it lands in the crease of your left knee.

"Fold this leg and hold it like that. Keep the other one stretched out."

His gentle nudge helps you into complying, and you can't help the small noises of anticipation leaving your mouth as you find the place between your legs exposed to the air because of the motion.

"Now put your weight on your elbows… yes, just like that. Sexy."

You prostrate yourself for Amahiko in this convenient position, with your lubed hole all ready for him - you all but feel the focus on the place of penetration, and whine at the lack thereof.

"Shh. Amahiko is coming."

Perplexed at the way he manages to make the simplest things feel like euphoria, you find yourself fighting back a steadily building orgasm at the mere feeling of Amahiko's glans rubbing against your entrance. The friction is fluid, making him slip in with ease, and he exits your body with what you assume is caution not to overstimulate you by thrusting all the way in too soon. It surely wouldn't be him teasing you despite how crazed up with arousal he's already gotten you…

"Nghh- You're so tight and warm inside. You feel so delightful."

Him saying this while he slides back in, this time slower and deeper, has got you gasping around the first few syllables of his name. He thrusts in and out at a slow pace that he gradually picks up until his thrusts are long and even, clouding your head with pleasure.

Being behind you like that, Amahiko has access to one too many sensitive spots of your burning skin, and he is quick to make use of it. He begins by raining kisses on your shoulder, open-mouthed and wet, slowly making his way up the junction of it and your neck, and continuing his ambush until he's met with the delicate skin of your earlobe. He bites on it, slowing the movements of his hips just to savor the reaction as his wet tongue traces the rim of your ear.

"Ahhh-That's-"

"It's sensitive here. You've begun to suck me in deeper inside."

Dividing your focus between the two areas in your body receiving attention induces head-spinning sensation that leaves you breathless. As Amahiko continues tonguing your ear, his hand sneaks to where he earlier noticed you like having it, on the crease of your knee.

"Here too… the skin is thinner. You're going to be screaming in pleasure soon."

Amahiko's deep voice rumbling low as he whispers in your ear is a weapon far more dangerous than those little tricks he plays on your body, but combined with them, you're facing a whirlwind of sensation like never before. And you're spinning, spinning as the low creaking noise of the bed soundtracks each and every thrust of Amahiko; his body draped over yours with a thin layer of sweat between you, his own moans of pleasure entwining with yours, equal in volume and in wanton, speaking of two approaching highs: aching, swollen, pulsing, gushing.

Amahiko now all but slams his hips into yours with his nearly inhuman stamina, the noises of skin-on-skin joining in the salacious melody, and he fucks you so good. You realize the worth of this position as Amahiko grips the inside of your knee to spread you even further, granting himself access to the spots inside you that lit your body on fire.

"I'm-Ngh- I'm going to-come inside you-"

"Do it- Amahiko, do it, please, I'm cumming too…!"

"Let's do it together!"

Turning your head to the side, you clash your lips into Amahiko's, desperately wanting to hold onto the remaining bits of your reason as your world shatters with hot-white pleasure. Amahiko's cock spears through your deepest parts, making you feel completely full as it swells and pulsates to the point of no return. Amidst a broken moan of his name, you tip over the edge, dragging Amahiko along as your body is shaken by ecstasy, just as his is. You feel the hot torrents of his cum fill you to the brim as he keeps cumming and cumming inside you through uneven and deep trusts that lack their previous preciseness in the face of the consuming euphoria.

Amahiko continues fucking the orgasm out of you until you can't take it anymore, and his now shallow thrusts are enough to send your body in tremors with the aftershocks.

Your body gives out and you let the bed embrace your weight as you lay down, Amahiko carefully caging you with his body. He whispers filthy things in your ear, glorifying the heavenly feeling you granted him with, while lazily caressing over your sex with his hand, tracing over the place where you're connected.

You shift your body to your side and he does the same to face you, and you catch him just in time to see how he brings his fingers to his mouth.

"The nectar of our conjoining, it's so sweet…"

"A-Amahiko…"

Blaming it on your still uneven breathing, your heart is yet to calm down and how could it be when Amahiko doesn't give you a break? You feel the liquid warmly tricking down the side of your thigh, and shamelessly you find yourself feeling awfully empty again. So soon.

"Mmmhh…" You attempt to voice out your complaint as Amahiko kisses you again, sharing the taste lingering on his tongue with you. But then something else pops up in your mind.

"Amahiko…"

"Yes, my dear?"

"When we're done here… I think, no, I'm sure… that I'll need to get a bath again."

A second passes, and you hear him sucking on a breather. You can't help the giddy feeling rising in your chest.

"Let this Amahiko join you for a sexy bath."

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[frankieparisrose]

my 3rd birThday

Asking a Transgender Person

Content WarningI’m not going to assume I can list your triggers and won’t try.Please understand, all my content will always have an implied warning.

Happy birThday to me!! I’m three!!

I’ll answer the “Transgender” questions and cover some shit you never actually asked (but you wanted to ask and it’s likely you need to know anyhow). A few answers will be non-answers. It’s okay if you don’t like that. You need to get used to it. Nobody has to answer anyone’s questions. It’s that simple. I’m also going to answer in uncomfortable ways that are necessary to convey the truth, and a little of how it feels to be someone who is not cisgendered or straight.

Know that I am my own person. My ideas are not inherently “correct”, nor do they have an implication to other Transgender or Queer people’s thoughts. Every person you talk to is their own person, Transgender or not.

Because there are things you can google, like the definition of “nonbinary” or “AMAB”, I certainly will not be addressing those items aside from: Go look it up yourself. Yes, really. If you’re in my realm of existence, at this point in history, you must be exhausted - so, imagine that but for like your entire life. If you can’t google it or find a blog, then you ask the question after you’ve gained consent to do so. Until then, learn to use your resources. We are in the information age. Go get it. You can do it.

Consider this your personalized piece for the crap you can’t google [easily or painlessly]. I might be Trans but I’m white (even if I’m Puerto Rican) and “male passing”. I will do my best to equally expose my privileges, internal tensions of intersectionality, and real life experiences I have as that person type.

Now we can get to the first and most important question: What’s my favorite dinosaur? I’ll lose a bunch of you here but we’ll move on quick - The best dinos are the herbivores. Like how can you be that giant and only eat plants. How do you get your protein? Anyway.. I’m vegan and just trying to really be a dinosaur when I grow up.

Along with my they/them pronouns, I accept Captain as an honorific (why do we still use these for real) and I identify as a Prehistoric Dino.

Next, let’s go with the “[private] parts / junk / what’s in your pants / genitalia / born with a-” stuff... You mean: What kind of crotch do I have? ..Does the sudden swing into that topic make you uncomfy? Yeah us too every time no matter what so this subject is never okay to ask about out of nowhere period ever forever - cool? great.

Truest answer: Someone’s body parts are literally never any of your business. Never. It’s never your business. It’s also .never. your business to discuss someone else’s anything with others.

It is, however, your duty as “an ally” to help protect anyone being asked things that people have zero business approaching them on. Absolutely it is your job to tell your bigot dad at xmas brunch that it’s actually pretty disgusting to be wondering about a stranger’s private areas.. Totally up to you to remind your “concerned” auntie how weird it is to be a full adult body policing bully, when you clearly remember her contemplating a big fake set of boobies for your dad- I mean uncle’s admiration.. Those are your areas to shake up when it’s about someone else’s privacy. Feel free to make it as awkward as possible and please ask ignorant questions.

Yes, I know you still want “a real answer”..

Here are more truths:

PLENTY of humans are born WITHOUT a clear distinction of “male or female” genitals. Regardless, this is a separate trait from that individual’s chromosomes, sexuality, or gender identity / expression. Some people take hormones to help their body, cis or trans. Some people have gender affirming surgeries, elective or not, cis or trans.

I have had one surgery. I do not like the idea of ever having surgery, even if I want the things it could give me. It’s kinda just how I am. If I don’t feel I have to do it, I’ll avoid it.

It took about 20 years to finally have my hysterectomy. I fought for that fucking surgery. I had been actively trying since I was a very young teenager.

This had and has nothing to do with my trans-ness. Nor does it necessarily give any indication of my external or internal parts, any other piece of my anatomy, biology or bodily chemistry. It does mean I was assigned (F) female at birth - yup, regardless of my chromosomes or external “parts” or anything else you could think would have weighed in.

I have considered other surgeries but they still feel “cosmetic” enough that I’m not interested in the risks. That could change but I don’t think much about it. I’m lucky. That is not most Trans people’s experience, as far as I can tell.

As for the question, “how’s it hangin’?” Well… however I want it to. Yall should seriously get out there and try an adult store or the internet. They even make cock cages if you want something smaller or pocket if you prefer a hole. I’m just saying, I can basically have whatever I want.. Or whatever my partner wants. ..Again, I’m just saying.. It’s not even that kink, you know?

So… “It” works just fine. Sex organs and potty parts both are good to go now that my internal problem guts were removed. People who have had particular surgeries could answer the question of function better depending on what is foundationally being asked, but I have general opinion as a Transgender person: Unless the patient lands a terrible or abusive surgical team, the result is almost always an increase of happiness, self acceptance, and personal validation. If there is a “function” for any gender affirming care, it is simply the improvement of the patient’s well being. I could almost promise that outcome from any of us privileged enough to receive our necessary healthcare, including but not limited to surgery.

My “transition”-ing isn’t really a transition. To “fully transition” probably isn’t a thing for me. I was never a “girl” and I was never a “boy”. When people thought I was a girl, they would tell me I was too man-ish, vagina or not. Passing as a cis-man but being nonbinary is a gross tornado of privilege I currently live inside. If they find out I’m “transgender” though, suddenly I’ll never be good enough to “be a man” - regardless of having a penis or not, apparently.

By definition, I am transgender because the “F” marker they assigned to my person is incorrect. For me, it is that dry. I am neither a man nor a woman but “must be” assigned to one or the other in this country. That incongruence is what objectively defines my Transgender-ness.

I cannot “just be a femme guy or butch girl” because I’m not those. My mom would always say “you’re not a fucking boy”, probably actually referring to my clothes, and I was confused every time because like… yeah… correct… I’m not a boy.. I don’t want to be a boy.. But I’m not a girl either and definitely don’t want to be that or a woman.

Cisgendered people don’t have to process these feelings and I’m almost certain they never get asked “how do you know you’re cisgender” or ignorant shit like “are you sure” or “well, have you tried….”

I’m nonbinary. I’m transgender. And, I don’t have to elaborate more about it. Don’t ask me “how I know.” Ask a real question if you’re going to stick your head out. I know that feels harsh but really contemplate what you’re asking that human - rather, understand what you are saying about that human when you ask things of that nature. Try to recognize microaggressions within yourself. It will help keep you from dehumanizing people.

I do HAVE TO be on hormones because I lack the organs to produce them in house. I’ll literally die without HRT. Let’s also not assume my ovary removal was the only reason for needing that life-saving medication (yeah life-saving for cisgender folks, too). There are only two choices of HRT (NEITHER OF WHICH ARE “MALE OR FEMALE HORMONES”) and I was sick, figuratively and physically, from what I had been given up to that hysto-time. When I got a choice, because I HAD TO choose, I picked Testosterone. I wanted Testosterone.

It is one of the only things I’ve ever been able to choose about my body and it was the best decision. Yup, even if that “makes me Transgender”. Fine.

What’s my biggest worry as a Transgender person? Being murdered. The average age of trans people is 36 years old.

What’s the worst part about being Transgender for me? Other people. 1000% other people. Hate and rejection and bigotry from other people. That transfers into laws and those dangers bleed into my entire existence.

No, my family does not accept me. There are a handful I was lucky enough to keep. They mean everything, even if we barely get to talk because real life still exists in this shit pile.

Coming out is always the hardest part of being Queer. It doesn’t really matter who you’re coming out to. Telling people I’m Transgender is always the hardest detail about being Trans. You get harassed (in every way you can think of) for coming out and forever after, whether from family or strangers. Constant rejection reminders and invalidations of your person become part of existing, hiding at home or passing in public or not.

Coming out happens over and over and over and over and over again. We’re also EXPECTED to out ourselves for the “comfort” of others. If that occurs, we are still usually the victims of violence after. If we don’t out ourselves, we are still usually the victims of violence after - but this time for “lying”, due to not outing ourselves.

Everyone thinks I’m a man now. I know, I know - you can always tell… Here’s a secret: no you fucking can’t. NO. YOU. CAN’T. I think on my good days, people think I’m some punk boy. It’s not the best when they think I’m a gay guy. The worst is when they are confused by me.

“Passing” is the worst. Passing means I have to use the men’s room. It means transphobic lesbians are mad at my gained “male” privilege. I’m avoided by women in public, and I can’t say I blame them. I’m afraid of men, too. My public pronouns, undecided by me, are “he/him/his/sir/bro” or “brother” if you’re the cop pulling me over. Dude bros now think I’m one of the dude bros. You cannot fathom the things men say to other men or to me because they’ve decided I’m a man.

Transitioning, or having a mustache if you’re me, has changed my life completely.

I have to hide. Yeah for like fucking safety reasons. Imagine if everything you were as a person - straight, cis, white, married, have kids, typical job, maybe even a degree - was the opposite of what society has decided was normal. That’s how my life changed. It all changed. Try being rejected by almost your entire people group and ask yourself how life would change.

I don’t have an answer to “how long have you known” because that’s not a real question. How long have I had language or space to express what my gender is or isn’t? Not very long. But… I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN NONBINARY. I HAVE ALWAYS “KNOWN” I WASN’T A GIRL OR A BOY. ALWAYS. Always. Forever. Since the beginning of my being. Since before someone suggested my being was wrong. There isn’t anything to “know” until society fucks it up for us and asks us to find out, for them, while we attempt explain our existence.

What would make it easier to come out as Queer? Stop making us come out. Literally, let us be [ourselves]. Nobody has to come out as cisgender, why the fuck do I have to come out as anything? It’s not a real question. Other people’s “comfort” is never a reason but that’s why we have to “come out” as anything. Being Transgender is only something to be outed because everyone else makes it that way.

Transgender people don’t get to experience anything as our full selves, adults or children, in this society. I feel like I missed everything as a kid. I didn’t get to be a kid, mainly for reasons outside of my gender identity, but it would have been better to be myself while not getting to be a kid all the same. I still have to make sure I’m picking the clothes I WANT to wear instead of my mom’s preferred method of dressing me, if that shows you anything.

so… What would I tell my younger self? I don’t honestly know. Maybe something normal like: You’re okay. There is nothing wrong with who you are no matter what anyone says. Trust yourself because they can’t possibly know who you are unless you show and tell them. It’s okay to be mad at them. It’s also okay to feel good or happy or any of those things you rarely gain access to. It’s okay to be yourself. …Yeah even in a red-orange baggy t-shirt your mom hates while you play the saxophone she made you “choose” for your instrument. That’s okay, too - because you switch hard and very well to the whole brass section in 8th grade. Band will be one of your best parts of life and that will keep you alive for longer than you understand. …But yeah, you’re perfectly fine… Really. You is fine. Probably even good. Probably even loveable. There is no answer large enough to encompass how it could have been different for my child self. That’s basically asking “so, how different do you think childhood would have been were you able to be yourself instead of whatever you thought you had to be?” I don’t think I could answer that large of an order outside of writing a whole ass book that I’m not qualified to pen.

The best part about being Trans is that I get to be an adult making my own decisions and learning what part of my kid self was killed. I still don’t know who I am, but it’s really fucking nice to be finding it out finally. That is also my favorite, the most exciting, and surprising part about being trans: getting to be myself.

Frankie is short for Francis. The name question is sort of funny to me. My dad doesn’t go by his “real” or first name and stone cold refuses to. My great-grandpa, grandpa, dad and his only full brother all have the same first name. Nobody ever asks them where they came up with that shit. Calling four different people, who are all immediately related, the same name is far more interesting (really, i think it’s fucking weird and hilarious) than how any Transgender person came up with their name. I’m almost sure they’re also never questioned if they changed their names officially or not, or what it says on their license, or how they’re labeled on their birth certificate.

Francis Paris Rose is a pseudonym I felt I needed for safety reasons. I did it so I could hide. I assume I came up with it like people would name a baby or pet. I had some things that mattered and some that didn’t, and that’s the name I devised. It was for internet safety in my writing until it caught on at work and functioned really well, therefore becoming [mostly] permanent.

Transgender people need you to protect us so we can be ourselves. We need everyone who isn’t us, to show us that we can be ourselves 110% of the time. You have to fight for us. You have to vote for us. You have to look for queer people to know. You have to ask questions, and with some fucking respect. You have to expect us not to answer you. You have to know that you are privileged as a cisgender person. You have to put yourself in our place. You have to search for answers with minorities in mind. You have to care enough to be the most uncomfortable you’ll ever be, to fight people you never thought you’d have to combat, in order to help others you’ll never meet. You have to come out for us, too. And be satisfied with nothing in return. Maybe what you can get out of it is being happy you can call your friend by the name they ask in public, and nobody is in danger or feels afraid.

I’m one person. I’m Transgender. I’m still only one person. I’m not the only one.

[spideygirl]

Hey everybody. I’m waiting out a bout of food poisoning right after having a summer cold so I’m not feeling so well right now, but that’s not what I’m here for. I have less than a month and a half until my bottom surgery. It’s scheduled for October 8th, which also happens to be my 25th birthday! Anyway, I’m still really worried about getting the permanent hair removal finished in time. My hair has a red tint to it so laser won’t even pick up the hairs, electrolysis is $95 an hour, I’ve been doing 2hrs at a time which has been incredibly painful, though the dysphoria is still worse. Anyway I’d like to try and schedule a few more just to make sure I don’t have to reschedule and wait a whole extra year of hell. Please if you could, help me become whole for my 25th birthday. Our family PayPal is littletransgirl18@gmail.com and it works for google pay and I believe Venmo as well. Please help, it will seriously make my life if I can get my sugery on my birthday. Or even just not have to wait another year.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

Terms like “people who menstruate”, “vagina havers” or “pregnant people” are not meant to replace the word “women”.

The entire point of using them is that they are NOT synonymous with “women”. 

They are meant to be used in situations in which the term “women” is often inaccurately used: when we explicitly refer to people with menstrual cycles/vaginas/uteruses/pregnancies etc. regardless of gender. This is for example often the case when we talk about health stuff. 

Of course a sentence like “PCOS is a hormonal disorder that affects women” is not completely unreadable: most people would instinctively understand that this is supposed to mean that it affects people with an uterus and does not affect people with a penis. Obviously PCOS doesn’t have a concept of gender identity and somehow specifically chooses to only affect people who identify as a women. It affects people with uteruses - and that means it can affect cis women as well as trans men, nonbinary people etc. By only saying “women” in this context, we misrepresent medical reality. Why write an incorrect sentence and then rely on readers making that mental translation to “people with uteruses” when you could just write down the correct sentence from the get-go? 

It doesn’t mean that cis women who have PCOS are no longer allowed to call themselves women, that’s just ridiculous. Using medically correct language has nothing to do with „banning the word woman“. 

This is just how descriptions work: sometimes it’s more accurate to describe someone by their hair color and sometimes by their height, and choosing height as a descriptor in height-relevant situations doesn’t mean you want to erase their hair color. 

We are not fighting for a world where people have to say stuff like „Happy birthday to my favorite period haver“ or „I met a lovely uterus haver the other day“ when casually talking to/about the cis women in their life - in situations like that their anatomy or genitalia is obviously irrelevant and you are referring to their gender instead. If someone assumes that we want everyone to always refer to each other by their genitalia, they either experience mental/intellectual difficulties with understanding or adapting to new language concepts (which is valid) or they purposefully misinterpret and twist it to justify their transphobia (not valid). 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[justforbooks]

The tiny Himalayan kingdom located between China and India is a land of monks, meditation, and joy.

I had landed in the Paro Valley for a week’s journey through Bhutan, the reclusive mountain kingdom tucked between China and India, near Tibet. Renowned for its Himalayan vistas, which would be wasted on me, Bhutan is also a destination for luxury travelers interested in the pursuit of “wellness.” The government famously measures the country’s success not by its economy but by its population’s happiness. When considering foreign investment, the kingdom considers how it might impact the nation’s Gross National Happiness. The Bhutanese must know a thing or two about feeling good. I was keen to find out. Wellness is exactly my default. Humor has carried me through much, but I sometimes worry that this has been at the expense of a deeper spiritual well-being. Something healthier than a joke. I hoped to emerge fresh from the Paro bathhouse open to new experience and perhaps even to a new understanding of happiness itself.

A traditional bath steeps you in the richness of its modesty. That is until, feeling around for a towel, I knocked down the wall between me and the workers. For a moment they stared at my naked honesty. Privacy was gone. Modesty was, too. 

About an hour and a quarter from Paro is Thimphu, the kingdom’s capital, home to approximately 100,000 people and no traffic lights. Cows and stray dogs wander the streets as if looking for parking. Passing through, I climbed a winding mountain road to the first of three Six Senses resorts I would visit, each in a different region and elevation, each inviting its guests into a unique landscape where they can participate in a specific wellness experience. The resorts are the childhood dream of their owner, Dasho Sangay Wangchuk. A funny and loquacious entrepreneur, he dined with us on our first evening at a table crowded with plates of pomegranate salad, braised yak meat, and Bhutan’s national dish, ema datshi, or chili peppers with cheese. He had grown up in his father’s hotel, and as a child he had witnessed the impact Bhutan’s natural beauty and spiritual depth had on its occasional visitors. Later, as a young man attending university abroad, Dasho could appreciate even better Bhutan’s unique appeal. His is a country skirted by the tallest mountains in the world, protected for centuries from colonization or influence. His is a country that permits only a limited number of tourists and did not allow television until 1999. In some respects, it is a culture that is very new and very old, with little in between.

Perched on a mountain and surrounded by apple orchards, the Six Senses Thimphu resort is a monastery-inspired lodge referred to as the Palace in the Sky. An aerial motif touches everything. Clouds pattern carpets. The ceiling of its restaurant, Namkha, is hashed with beams chiseled in shapes that undulate like a cloud. A wall of windows brings the sky into each villa and simultaneously pushes guests out to the edge of the earth. In the main foyer, a painting of the medicine Buddha reminds visitors that they are here for health. There are no plastics. Even our toothbrushes will biodegrade. Housed in something so healthy, I would similarly tend to the betterment of my body.

Massage is my cup of tea. I was about to receive my first Bhutanese tenderizing. When you think about it, massage is also a form of correction. You’re about to be pushed back into place, as it were. I bristled as they brought in the table. My masseuse practiced a style called marma, which began not with hands or oil, as I had assumed, but with voice. A meditation. I was invited to imagine the sky and smile at the sky. To breathe the air and smile at the air. Then flowers. Soil. Again and again I was encouraged to engage the world around me and to feel a gratitude that would relax my own physical being. As she chanted, my masseuse played a singing bowl and held it close to my ears until the note collapsed into smaller, cascading harmonics. The bowl was then placed on my stomach, sending its vibrations through my skin, moving its tone through my muscles and bones. A sound massage. In our daily lives, we forget that sound, being a vibration, is actually a form of touch. The ear is a finger. Through words and music, they managed to relax me into an hour and a half.

Everywhere you turn in Bhutan, it seems, something is there to remind you that luck, good and bad, is a force. You’d best take the proper precautions. Incense is everywhere, the smell scrubbing the country of bad spirits. Prayer wheels abound equally, always whirring in the distance.

In a private home I visited for lunch, a local monk was at work. He gently took my hands and dipped my fingers into several bowls to let me feel the butter he was painting on a ritual cake that, from what I could feel, was half my size. This was a spiritual service for my host family. The offering would bring prosperity and more good luck. Smaller cakes would also be left on the roof for the crows to take to the gods. It seems that, in Bhutan, wellness comes from giving your cake away, not having it and eating it, too.

Six Senses Punakha is quite literally a flying farmhouse. Overlooking a warm valley cleaved by two rivers called the mother and the father, the resort’s main building is ingeniously engineered to hover over an expanse of rice paddies. Angled steps surprised me as I walked. Climbing the land around me was an entirely different collection of angled steps. These were the terraces on which farmers grew wheat and more rice. In walking the steps of my new stay, my feet were feeling a small likeness of the landscape around us. 

The Punakha area is perhaps most famously known for its ubiquitous depictions of male genitalia. Punakha is where Drukpa Kunley, the Divine Madman, first arrived from Tibet in the 15th century with his brand of sexy, drunken, bacchanalian Buddhism, and his legacy persists! A road sign might replace an arrow with a penis. Phalluses frame archways and adorn everything from doors to keychains.

My focus was elsewhere. Chorten Ningpo is a Buddhist monastery about a two-and-a-half-hour hike from the Punakha farmhouse. Many tourists visit Bhutan specifically for a hike like this. Given the thin air and potential altitude sickness, choosing to hike is a serious commitment.

Yountin, my guide, led me up a ladder into a room where three monks were in prayer with a bereaved woman. I sat quietly near the wall and listened to their rumbling incantations. They were the expressive, guttural tones I associate with throat singing. I’d heard other monks in other rooms before, including a group who rang bells and chanted, some holding skulls while others played flutes fashioned, I was told, from human thigh bones. To be present for so much ritual, from the prayer flags to the stupas to the cakes to these monks, made me realize how little of the sacred I had in my own life. All these experiences suggested the shape of a hole, but I had no idea what I would fit in there.

“Give me your hands,” Yountin whispered.

She quickly arranged my palms into a bowl and explained that the head monk was coming around. The man in the red robe had agreed to Yountin’s request that I also receive a blessing of holy water. I was instructed to drink most of it, which would cure whatever in me needed curing, then to press the remainder to my forehead for clarity of mind. Finally, a cure other than jokes.

The holy water arrived without a word, its trickle collecting in my cupped hands. Then, as I raised it to my lips, it dribbled through my fingers, gone. Goddamnit. My one shot at holy water and I fumble it. I didn’t feel I could ask for more, either. I’d be Bhutan’s Oliver Twist: “Please, sir, I want some more.” Maybe all my jokes were coming back to teach me a lesson. I pressed what moisture was left to my forehead and had the clarity of mind to know I’m an idiot.

Outside, we snacked on apples and listened to the sound of boys training to be monks. They were in a room on the second floor, its windows open, and, I was told, would occasionally peek their shaved heads out to get a look at us. I was heartened to hear them laugh as a few of them clubbed each other with their prayer books. Kids will be kids, even if they will grow up to be monks. Jokes before prayers. Maybe, in fact, there is a place for humor.

“I’m curious,” I said to Yountin, “do the monasteries have televisions?”

���Oh, for sure,” she said. “They love TV.” “So what do monks like to watch? The Simpsons?”

“Soccer,” she said. “They love soccer. Big Manchester United fans. It’s the red uniforms. Monks wear red, too.”

After a week of considering my body and soul, and how to find wellness therein, it felt good to come back to Paro, where my journey had begun. Tucked in a forest at the end of a winding, rough mountain road, the Six Senses Paro resort is a series of stone buildings that complement their neighboring monastic ruins and sit atop a subterranean warren of massage and prayer rooms. One evening I sat outside and drank ara, a kind of sweet moonshine, and took a very temporary vow of silence as I listened to the stray dogs under the stars. They howled for something. We all do. Maybe soon they would try to sleep in their trees.

On my last day I stopped to visit a monk at an astrology school. He would tell me about my past incarnations, my present selves, and my future paths. I met him in a room that felt like it belonged to a community college professor. It was small and dark and pack-ratted with books and shelves. A yak hide covered the couch. I sat on it and waited as the monk took my birthday information from Yountin, who translated between us. When he was ready, the monk consulted several serious tomes and made some notations, calculating my past to find my fate. My thoughts turned to the past week. All this wellness, the stone baths and yoga and doctors and holy water, but what if the question of well-being is, in the end, a fixed proposition? Sure, less gluten and more mindfulness feel good, but what if they don’t, in the end, change the story of who you are?

The monk was ready. He had my answers. “In this life,” he told me, “you will have some problems with your senses. But you will travel. And although you will travel very far in this life . . . you are not looking for anything.”

It took me a moment to realize how true this is. As a pilot, I literally wander the globe and, like it or not, look for nothing. But in doing it, I am at my best. I am well. We think of being well as a thing to pursue, as a state of being to reach, like a destination. Like a country or a beautiful hotel. But it’s really more like water through your hands. A pleasure to have tried and fumbled. We can cry or we can laugh about it.

I wanted to say something about this to the monk. I wanted to take him outside and have a philosophical dialogue with him under a tree, or under a dog sleeping in a tree. I had questions about my happiness. I wanted to tell him something funny that happened along the way.

But his phone was vibrating on the desk. Its custom ringtone was a Buddhist chant. He was busy. He ushered us out, bowed a polite goodbye, and shut the door to answer his calling.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[wallpaperpainter]

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[blaze8403]

Who is sweetie just reading photos- wrong or right- you looking at who You eyes your face - got his voice spell stu or tsu

photo before soup licking (licking anus vagina genitalia) no Gentalis Aristocrats Are you safe do you feel safe smhn or smhy n=no/nodachi y=yes (T) 24 hours at most after weapons but yes alot happened

Heavenly Heaven Leigh Nevaeh Bring My Blade that Protects the Spelling of my Kingdom

(BECK OR BECH ?)— TERRY CHRISTIAN CHRISTEN ANGELOUS LEE KAUFFMAN HAWKINS

WORD WORDS poemswords reblogged poemswords YES=Y LIKE Y=YES ( N=NO OR NODACHI) (via blaze8403)

YIN & YANG ?

DAI GENSUI TSU TERI MADOSIER

GRAND MASTER GRAND MARTIAL MARSHAL FIELD DOCTOR GENERAL

WAR OR WOR - RIGHT AND WRONG

C=3 LIKE K=11=2

YAKAZA SOFT SEAT WAY WAR AND T IN TERRY AND H IN HAWKINS Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. · TAO OF TRUE RELIGION CIRCLE — RavenDove - yin yin / yang - D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book.

YORK PA - RESPONSIBLE

RESPECTING EVERY SERIOUS PERSON ON NOW SERIOUS ISSUE BUT LISTEN ENTIRELY—

OPERATIONS

(TH OR AH)

BOOP ( OOP=OO16=007 )—

ENOCH PFL- COM04 TERRY HAWKINS - LEE ( RHEE )

HIROHITO COULD SPELL BOOK AND BOOP - ER OR RE -KING

MAGIC YEA A GOD KNOW MAGICK - MAGI ?—

PKA-TERRY THE TERROR MO IN HOME LIKE HOME PLATE ATE MODUS OPERANDI Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.— - THREE ELEVEN PISCES-  OP IN OPERATIONS AND HOPKINS - ( OPP OR OSS - NO HOP OR POP - NOT SPOT STOP POST POTS - TOPS ?)—TERRY LEE HAWKINS - HOPKINS - AND JAPANESE HOKINSU -ME SIR NAMED A CHILD - DATE 10/29/30/2019 T=20=2 E=5 R=18=9 R=18=9 Y=25=7 NOT G OR P—T=20=2 E=5 R=18=9 R=18=9 Y=25=7 NOT G OR P—LI LEE LEI OR RHEE - NAME LEE AMEN OR AMAN ? - THEY DIDNT GET IT PHONETIC LETTER WARTERKEY SIX ( ROMAN 9)PASCALBLAZE3@GMAIL.COMTWITTER TJ - TERRY JUNIOR BIRTHDAY MARCH 11 USS OR USA ?CORRECT SELECTION THE GOD DELUSION - CHAPTER 7 - 3 MORE—XERXES ( SEX=GENDER ) XIEXIE ( I AND E VOWELS LETTER 9 & 5)OOP = 16= 7 OO7 / 2600 OR 1600 - 0016 (ACTIVE) JANIST OR JANISM ?Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling professional with professor Doctor  Dai Gensuier  Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. · ALL PRO RAVENDOVE Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins was RavenDove - yin yin / yang RavenDove - yin yin / yang - COLD NUMB AND (LOVIEY DOVIEY) CALCULATED SPELL IT D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book BUT LOKI OR BOOPER SAN with Blaze Pascal. with Terry Lee Hawkins ( male ) Peros Dragonus Kami Aisuru ikigami shinigami HAWKINS HOKINSU/HOKINZU — feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins JR ( male ) Peros Dragonus Kami Aisuru ikigami shinigamI TER OR TERRY / - HAWKINS - LETTERS IN SPELLING

DAI GENSUMMASIER

RANK NATO 50 STARS -

DAI-GENSUIER

Professor Doctor  Dai Gensuier  Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins                      Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.  - Signed Boop not Book

Rank‎: ‎TEN ( CODELOVE-AI)-star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-16  NATO rank‎: ‎OF-15  Next lower rank‎:  GENSUIER

GENSUIER - AMONG R&R AND SECURITY DETAIL

Rank‎: ‎NINE ( CODELOVE-AI)-star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-15  NATO rank‎: ‎OF-14  Next lower rank‎: DAI GENSUIA

DAI GENSUIA

Rank‎: ‎Eight -star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-14  NATO rank‎: ‎OF-13  Next lower rank‎:  GENSUIA

GENSUIA

Rank‎: ‎Seven -star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-13  NATO rank‎: ‎OF-12  Next lower rank‎: ‎ DAI GENSUi  

DAI GENSUI

Rank‎: ‎SIX -star Non-NATO rank‎: ‎O-12  NATO rank‎: ‎OF-11  Next lower rank‎: ‎Gensui

Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.— - THREE ELEVEN PISCES-  OP IN OPERATIONS AND HOPKINS - ( OPP OR OSS - NO HOP OR POP - NOT SPOT STOP POST POTS - TOPS ?)—TERRY LEE HAWKINS - HOPKINS - AND JAPANESE HOKINSU -ME SIR NAMED A CHILD - DATE 10/29/30/2019 T=20=2 E=5 R=18=9 R=18=9 Y=25=7 NOT G OR P—T=20=2 E=5 R=18=9 R=18=9 Y=25=7 NOT G OR P—LI LEE LEI OR RHEE - NAME LEE AMEN OR AMAN ? - THEY DIDNT GET IT PHONETIC LETTER WARTERKEY SIX ( ROMAN 9)PASCALBLAZE3@GMAIL.COMTWITTER TJ - TERRY JUNIOR BIRTHDAY MARCH 11 USS OR USA ?CORRECT SELECTION THE GOD DELUSION - CHAPTER 7 - 3 MORE—XERXES ( SEX=GENDER ) XIEXIE ( I AND E VOWELS LETTER 9 & 5)OOP = 16= 7 OO7 / 2600 OR 1600 - 0016 (ACTIVE) JANIST OR JANISM ?Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling professional with professor Doctor  Dai Gensuier  Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. · ALL PRO RAVENDOVE Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins was RavenDove - yin yin / yang RavenDove - yin yin / yang - COLD NUMB AND (LOVIEY DOVIEY) CALCULATED SPELL IT D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book BUT LOKI OR BOOPER SAN with Blaze Pascal. with Terry Lee Hawkins ( male ) Peros Dragonus Kami Aisuru ikigami shinigami HAWKINS HOKINSU/HOKINZU — feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins Terry Lee Hawkins JR ( male ) Peros Dragonus Kami Aisuru ikigami shinigamI

GOD NAME LOKI

PROFESSIONAL HAWKINS ( KAUFFMAN) TERRY L

(via teremiah8403) 

NUMEROLOGY I LOVE THE STUFF TOO - (KAUFF)

[beekeepercain]

I need to be brave.

Some people might know this, some people might not, but this is my personal blog - this is not a fandom blog. However, for the past... two years, I’ve neglected the personal part and just served the fandom part. The truth is, there are a lot of things I probably should be talking about, but the more they weight on my shoulders, the less I seem to be capable of putting them into words. And right now, the disorganization in my brain (I hope it’s disorganization) is making my life unbearable.

A couple times during my long history of mental health care, I’ve been told that my illnesses stalled my development. I used to be insulted at the thought. Now, I’ve suddenly woken up as a 26 years old... thing, and realised that I’m now past the line of youth and well into the side of adulthood, yet I’m stuck with the mind of a teenager who has no idea how to tackle the most basic responsibilities or, indeed, freedoms, of an adult human being. It hit me suddenly last summer, around my 25th birthday, so this would make this an anniversary; I broke down, unable to cope with being an adult, and for a few weeks, a couple months, I simply ceased to be one. I built a tent on my backyard and brought inside it my then a lot smaller collection of My Little Ponies in order to appeal to the suddenly upset child inside me. I spent time in that tent, slept in that tent, and watched a lot of Netflix in that tent. I refused to be an adult anymore. I couldn’t cope with it.

Each year since my 20th - no, my 15th... no, my 10th birthday has signaled a steady slope downwards. I have not progressed. I have not reached the normal milestones of a human being. I did not complete my education - certainly, on the paper, I did. But I did not attend school for two years, and passed my education by delivering a few papers every couple weeks because failing me in a society where each person is, by law, to complete at least the basic education would have been too difficult for the education system. In a sense, I’ve been robbed of my right to say that I dropped out, but in reality, I dropped out.

My anxiety has its roots well in my childhood. I had my first panic attacks behind my dying grandmother’s couch around the age of nine, staring at the dark ceiling certain that I would die during the night. I didn’t recognise them as such and never talked about them with anybody, simply thinking that panic attacks were a phase that every child grew up with. Indeed, it seemed so; a couple years later, my sister in all other senses but by blood went through the same thing, and as such, my theory of it just being another reality of life for a kid my age seemed to be proven.

I don’t think it’s necessary to detail the shitfest that my teenage was, only that I think I dropped off the development bus around this time. Puberty came.

Ah, puberty. The moment I was supposed to grow into a woman, but instead was hit by a truckload of self-hatred and dysphoria. Crying every night because my life was over before it even began because I would never be a boy. 

Add that to the list of slowly surfacing list of mental health problems.

I’ve grown without certainty about anything - I’ve had to question basics like if my parent will murder me, and if the set of genitalia I was born with was correct. I’m still certain of neither of those things. Would I have died that night if my mother hadn’t intervened, and stood in front of the door against my raging father who promised he only wanted to scare me a little? Did I make a mistake transitioning? Does that even matter?

My uncertainty has grown into a fear and mistrust of everything in my life. I’m afraid of all things, beginning from my own eye sight and skin to politics and climate change. I’m so afraid that I shower in the dark and isolate myself. I don’t go out unless I have to. I’m paralyzed by fear to a point where I dissociate most of the time, staring at a screen in an attempt to distract myself from my fears. I’ve taught my brain to multitask, and in doing so, I’ve forgotten how to concentrate. I used to write novels in my head while sitting in a bus on the way towards a changing destination, laying out word by word as if I was typing them down. Now I have to re-read every sentence in a book three times before my absent mind can grasp its contents. I cannot view a post on a blog without playing a YouTube video at the same time. I cannot, it seems, settle down and write down my thoughts anymore. I’m constantly running for my life, trying to shut down the part of my brain that is always afraid, always too scared to let me rest.

I’m struggling to hold onto my life. I don’t know what’s going on around me. For years, I’ve done everything in my power to forget and not think about it as much as humanely possible. As a result, I no longer know who I am. That’s another thing I’ve been told: that I never developed a stable personality because I have always been too busy struggling to survive. That, also, used to upset me, and today, I don’t even know what my fucking gender is.

I’ve been promised many things in my life: a bright future, a steady climb through the education system and into a career that I feel fulfilled in, a spouse, a house, and children. I’ve been promised that my teens and twenties would be the highlight of my life, yet here I am, having walked through them in a mist of terror and disappointment and hurt, with seemingly no gain whatsoever. All I’ve become is a creature even more afraid and more confused than I used to be. I feel disfigured and unlovable. I have nothing to offer, not on a personal level, and especially not to the world, not to society. I’m a burden. I can’t work. I can barely function. My only milestone was moving out and living on my own, but I’ve always struggled. And I’m so, so afraid. All the time. I can’t cope with the changes that happen within me and outside of me. The destroyed childhood playground, the cut-down forest. Wearing glasses. Losing hair. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I am. I don’t know anything, and more than anything, so desperately that it hurts, I want to go back to a time when I still felt safe - when I could trust something, when life had a set course and foundations, when I still believed that people around me were good and would always be there for me, when I thought my future had promise. When life had promise and wonder, and I didn’t lock myself inside four walls, cowering in fear with the curtains pulled over my windows out of the fear that I’ll see the sun or worse, my own reflection. Today, I’m freefalling towards death with nothing to hold onto. Days fly by. There are no milestones. I can reach for nothing. I am nothing. I do the bare minimum of existing, waking up each day to continue my meaningless flight through the blur.

I don’t know who I am, and I feel like I’ve been betrayed by the world. The future is a big unknown, and every day I wonder whether I’ll go blind or die before I can find a foothold. I’m lost, I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do.

[athena1138]

I know you’re supposed to let people ask you for numbers and THEN answer, but I’m pmsing really fucking hard and struggling to hold on to the one single brain cell I have that’s keeping me from breaking down and just screaming/trashing the place. SOOOOO here’s 100 questions nobody asked me to answer. 

1. A selfie?

Two or three months old, but I like it still. 

2. How old are you?

23 1/2.

3. What is your birthday?

Nov. 2 (Day of the Dead~)

4. What is your zodiac sign?

Scorpio

5. What is your favorite color?

Purple/Teal

6. What’s your lucky number?

5

7. Do you have any pets?

I, myself, have a cat, but my mom has three dogs and my estranged cat who couldn’t move into my apartment with me but whom my mom wouldn’t let me adopt once he COULD

8. Where are you from?

Corn. (Indiana.)

9. How tall are you?

5′7

10. What shoe size are you?

11 in women’s, 9 1/2 in men’s.

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

Um. I just moved and got rid of a bunch, so maybe 10 total

12. What was your last dream about?

Honestly, it was a sex dream about a friend’s sister. (Let’s not explore that, shall we?) 

13. What talents do you have?

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL (I write fanfiction.)

14. Are you psychic in any way?

I have a shitton of deja vu that I think comes from dreams. It never does anything productive, but eh.

15. Favorite song?

Ah shit. To listen to, Rap God. To sing, La Vie en Rose. 

16. Favorite movie?

Taming of the Shrew, the Liz Taylor version.

17. Who would be your ideal partner?

Someone with a shitton of patience and an understanding of when to walk away from me before I break down. (Also, Fenris from DA2 or Cullen Rutherford.)

18. Do you want children?

FUCK THAT

19. Do you want a church wedding?

I wouldn’t mind having a wedding in a big, beautiful church like if it had a Window(tm) yknow, but there will be ZERO religion in my service. Even then, a wedding in a church is quite low on my list. My top three wedding preferences are:  countryside (but not the kind with cowboy boots and mud and a dirt-floor barn. I mean the bougie white bitch from the city doesn’t actually wanna get dirty kind of countryside,) seaside, and in the woods (like Twilight.)

20. Are you religious?

Nah. 

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

Yes

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

I got a seatbelt ticket once and a written warning for speeding (which I’m still pissed about. I was on my way to say goodbye to my grandpa before he died.)

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

Jonathan Frakes (TWICE!,) LeVarr Burton, and John DeLancie. It was supposed to be Brent Spiner in place of the 2nd Jonathan Frakes one, but with the fires in California and his son getting sick, he had to cancel. I was heartbroken. I adore him.

24. Baths or showers?

Depends on the tub. 

25. What color socks are you wearing?

Who wears socks at home in July?

26. Have you ever been famous?

When I was 13, I won second place in a national creative writing contest and 3 gold medals for state. My little hometown did a front-page article about me. It was most definitely the peak of my life. That’s about how fucking far down the barrel I am now. 

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?

Money, yeah. Otherwise, nah. 

28. What type of music do you like?

All kinds but country. I have a special preference towards 50s ballads, lyrical rap, and 2000s summer hits like Cyclone and Right Thurr. 

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

Ye

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?

6, generally.

31. What position do you usually sleep in?

I have one of those pillows with the little arms on the side that I flip upside down and cuddle into like I’m sleeping on someone’s chest. I can sleep like that for hours.

32. How big is your house?

1200sqft.

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

Coffee

34. Have you ever fired a gun?

Yes. I’m a v good shot.

35. Have you ever tried archery?

Yes. I’m a v good shot. 

36. Favorite clean word?

Pusillanimous.

37. Favorite swear word?

Fuck nugget.

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

4 days.

39. Do you have any scars?

A shitton. My favorite is the pair on my forehead that form a little 01. I also have a lot of self-harm scars across my breasts that I like. 

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

As a joke, yeah, but I’ve never gotten like... actual honest-to-god love letters. 

41. Are you a good liar?

I used to be. I don’t see the point anymore. 

42. Are you a good judge of character?

No. I’m too eager to make friends. 

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

It’s not uncommon for me to accidentally do an accent from whatever show I was just watching, especially if I’m talking to myself. I can do a surprising variation on Spanish accents, but that’s also because of my Spanish linguistics class. 

44. Do you have a strong accent?

I have a weird accent. I say some things like I’m from Chicago (like, I say “hot dwawg”) but I say some things kind of southernish especially if I get mad, but some things I say Canadian and some British. 

45. What is your favorite accent?

Speaking English, Russian. Speaking their native language, Cuban.

46. What is your personality type?

INTP. Or, if you’re like me and don’t remember what that means, I’m a raging bitch who thinks she’s funny and tries too hard.

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?

My bridesmaid dress for my sister’s wedding. Fucking $460 after alterations. 

48. Can you curl your tongue?

No

49. Are you an innie or an outie?

Innie

50. Left or right handed?

Right

51. Are you scared of spiders?

150%

52. Favorite food?

Garlic

53. Favorite foreign food?

北京烤鸭. (Peking Duck.)

54. Are you a clean or messy person?

Messy.

55. Most used phrased?

Cool beans///Suck a fuck. 

56. Most used word?

Fuck

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?

Depends where I’m going. Work or school, 10 minutes. To something with my family or friends, like an hour. But that’s because I just move slower, not because anything changes. 

58. Do you have much of an ego?

Yes. I’m conceited as shit. 

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?

Suck until they get riddled with holes. 

60. Do you talk to yourself?

60% of my verbal interactions are with myself, yes. (30% are with my pets, 10% with other people.) 

61. Do you sing to yourself?

Yes. 

62. Are you a good singer?

I can match pitch. That doesn’t mean I should. 

63. Biggest Fear?

Ending up bogged down with kids I don’t want in a city I hate with a job I’ve been at for 10+ years. 

64. Are you a gossip?

Yes

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?

I really like the remake of Steel Magnolias with Queen Latifah, and Diary of a Mad Black Woman. 

66. Do you like long or short hair?

On me, long. On others, depends. 

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?

If you give me a minute and a pen, maybe. 

68. Favorite school subject?

Band/English/Science. 

69. Extrovert or Introvert?

Intro. 

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?

No

71. What makes you nervous?

The future

72. Are you scared of the dark?

Only after watching a ghost movie. 

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

Yes

74. Are you ticklish?

Do you bruise easily? 

75. Have you ever started a rumor?

Yes

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

Yes

77. Have you ever drank underage?

Yes, but not much. I asked my boyfriend to give me a sip of his 4 Loko and fucker was like, “nooo it’s illegal.” 

78. Have you ever done drugs?

What makes the boyfriend thing funny is we had spent literally that entire summer high of our asses, but “noooo, it’s illegal for you to drink.” His method of thinking was, It’s illegal for everyone to smoke weed, so it’s fair that everybody breaks that law, but it’s only illegal for people under 21 to drink so it’s not fair.

79. Who was your first real crush?

As in, a real person? Ethan Richards, elementary. I crushed on him for 5 years. (Caleb Smith was a close second, and looking back I think maybe he liked me, too.) But I wrote Ethan a note in 5th grade telling him I liked him and he super broke my heart. 13 years later and I’m still bitching about it. 

80. How many piercings do you have?

Currently, 9. I’ve had 13 though. 

81. Can you roll your Rs?“

No. I make L sounds instead, like Puerto Ricans do. 

82. How fast can you type?

150+wpm. I beat out my typing teacher in 7th grade. She gave us a party to celebrate. 

83. How fast can you run?

If I’m drunk, really fucking fast. Sober, not very. (I got wasted at a party and sprinted all the way across my apartment complex to run back to my room and help my roommate get more booze. It was incredible. I almost got hit by a car.) 

84. What color is your hair?

Brown

85. What color is your eyes?

Brown

86. What are you allergic to?

Potentially shellfish bc everyone else in my family is. 

87. Do you keep a journal?

No

88. What do your parents do?

My dad’s dead, mom works in the registration division in a hospital. Idk what exactly. 

89. Do you like your age?

No. I’m too old to not know what I want to do in life but too young to know what I want to do in life, and I’m in debt and broke and I have no job and no prospects and everyone keeps asking me and it makes me break down and cry and

90. What makes you angry?

Stupid people. This goddamn dog. Lots of things. 

91. Do you like your own name?

Now that the “Becky” thing has subsided a little, yeah. I used to hate all versions of the name Rebecca, but I’m pretty content with Becca. Becca Eileen suits me pretty well I think. 

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

Psh. Even though I don’t want kids, yeah, I’ve thought of some. Most of them are ridiculous now. Fred and George for twins, Zane for a boy, Nonni for a girl, etc. Nothing I would actually choose now. 

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

I think assigning importance to the genitalia of my child is a fucking ridiculous and borderline disgusting thing to do. I would want a healthy child, if there were to be a child. 

94. What are your strengths?

Um. I can sleep for a really long time. 

95. What are your weaknesses?

Lol. Everything, my dude. Fucking everything. 

96. How did you get your name?

Eileen comes from my mom’s best friend in high school. Rebecca supposedly doesn’t come from anywhere, but my dad was married to a Rebecca before my mom and I think that’s just too fucking weird to forget. 

97. Were your ancestors royalty?

I highly doubt it. 

98. Do you have any scars?

You already asked that. 

99. Color of your bedspread?

Black. It’s the Hogwarts school crest! 

100. Color of your room?

Beige. My mom wouldn’t let me pick a different color. When I get my own place that lets me color the walls, I want some nice, deep violets with an accent wall that has criss-crossed fuchsia and teal. 

[purplesurveys]

599

[ONE] Do you have a common first name? Robyn/Robin isn’t very common. I know only a handful of people I’ve interacted with that has the same name. Do you like your middle name or your first name more? I like both, but I’ve liked my second name for a longer time. It took me until getting into college to warm up to Robyn. What year would/did you turn 21? 2019. What was popular when you were a kid? Depends what period... you’re a kid for 12 whole years lmao. I’m too young to remember the 90s, but during my time as a kid, the trends included Pokemon, Gameboy, Grand Theft Auto, PSP/PS2, TeenNick, Hannah Montana, Drake and Josh, That’s so Raven, Pogs, Beyblades, Uggs, skirts paired with leggings, cropped vests, etc. Do you wear more rings or necklaces? I wear neither but I’d rather put on necklaces. I’ve never taken a liking to rings.

Have you ever been engaged? I have not. Can you see your veins through your skin? On some parts of my body – mostly on my hands and wrists. Do you have a certain song you sing aloud often? I like singing along to songs that are within my range, so that includes songs like In The Mourning or 26 by Paramore, and more recently, everything i wanted by Billie Eilish. Do you concern yourself with what's in? Only so that I can keep up in conversations and because it generally helps to be aware of stuff that are timely, but there are instances wherein I don’t necessarily care about the trends. Do you worry about having good grammar online? I think I have a good grasp of grammar so this doesn’t worry me a lot. [TWO] Do you know anyone with a lazy eye? Gab’s lazy eye sticks out sometimes. Did your parents let you have pets when you were a kid? Yes, but they kept it limited to goldfish at first. Eventually they let us branch out to have a rabbit, lovebirds, and chicks, and finally a dog. Would you rather live in an apartment or a duplex? We lived in a duplex before, so I’m ready to try out something new with an apartment. Have you ever seen Boondock Saints? No. Do you like spicy chips? They’re a hit or miss, but I wouldn’t say no if I was offered them. Do you have any 'different' keychains on your keys/purse? No. I only have one, and it’s a Ferrari keychain JM gave all of us when he went to Singapore last September to watch the Grand Prix. Do you collect pins? No; never really got the appeal. They’re cute though. What band was on the last band t-shirt you wore? Paramore, I’m guessing. They’re the only band I have a shirt of. Do you wear more pink or yellow? I only have one article clothing of either color, so I can’t really pick a winner. [THREE] What's the last movie you watched at a friend's house? I have no idea. I don’t go to friends’ houses to watch movies that often. Have you ever been out of the state you were born in? We have provinces, not states. And yes, I’ve been in different provinces several times. Do you have any tattoos on your arms? Nope. Have you ever owned or known someone who owned a black cat? I know my aunt has one. When was the last time you felt jealous? Maybe in the last week? I always see people in campus holding hands and are obviously a couple and it always makes me sad and jealous. What's the last thing you bought besides food/drink? I bought five pieces of bond paper that I needed for my layout class. What album is the last song you listened to from? Riot!, by Paramore. Do you know what the word lumiere means? Yep, and it’s a very overused French word at that. Do you own a tea pot? I don’t think we do. [FOUR] Who scheduled your last doctor visit? My dad, but man that was nearly four years ago. What's the last video game you played? If phone games count, then it was Mario Kart Tour. If we’re strictly talking consoles, it has to be The Sims 4 if I remember correctly. Do you have anything on your wrists right now? [slight trigger warning: self-harm] Some scars, but it’s been a while and they look healthier these days. It’s still quite visible when under direct light, though. Do you have any holiday theme'd socks? I don’t. What kind of accent do you have? I speak good English but it has a very slight Filipino accent to it, and there are words that are a pain to pronounce for me, like beautiful or bureaucracy. What's the last funny movie you watched? 13 Going on 30, if that counts as funny. It was the last movie I caught on TV recently (my mom was watching). Can you remember your parents' birthdays? January 31 for my dad’s, September 2 for my mom’s. Is there anyone who you just absolutely cannot STAND being around? Yeah these days it would probably be Kyelle and Al.

What is the design on your shirt? It’s a blank brown top. [FIVE] Do you know anyone who just flat-out fails at life? No. Are you a Ghoulscout? No idea what you mean. Do you know someone who's just always wrong about everything? Tito fucking Sotto, a religious, conservative, misogynist, rapist dipshit who managed to become senate president in this big dumpster of a country. Do you make fun of people often? No? That’s mean. Do you read your friend's surveys? Yeah, I follow a handful of people on here and I read their answers often whether I decide to borrow their survey or not haha. If you had to get a tattoo tomorrow, what would you pick? My dog’s pawprints. How do you feel about band tattoos? As long as it’s not a cringey logo like someone’s actual face, I don’t have a problem with it. I may actually want to have Paramore’s 3 bars logo tattooed on me someday. Do you know anyone with a glass eye? Nope. How much are you willing to pay for a pair of sunglasses? If money were no object, I’d probs pay up until ₱15,000 for a pair lmao. [SIX] Did you have a GI Joe when you were a kid? No. I think I came too late to be able to play with those toys. What is the origin of your last name? Like, its etymology? I’m pretty sure it’s Spanish. Do you ever use the n-word? When there still wasn’t a lot of conversation about slurs or race in general like a decade ago, I’d say the word when it was sang or rapped in songs – it didn’t help that I had a big Beyoncé phase, and she’d occasionally include it in her lyrics. Eventually my dad sat me down and told me it was wrong, so I never muttered the word again. What piercing do you like most on the opposite sex? I don’t care for piercings, and only mind them if they were somewhere unusual, like on the nipples or genitalia. What brand of hair dye do you prefer to use? I don’t dye my hair. What county do you live in? We don’t have counties. Did/do you ride the bus to and from school? Yeah, I took the bus service.  Do you prefer beef, chicken or steak? Did you mean pork instead of steak lol? Anyway, my favorite meat is beef. What is your salad dressing of choice? I don’t eat a lot of salad other than spicy tuna salad, so I guess that makes Japanese mayo by dressing of choice by default. [SEVEN] Do you know anyone who's a really funny type of weird? Gabie hahahaha Do you make faces at certain people? Only when they’ve ENTIRELY pissed me off and only behind their backs. But this is a shitty thing to do and I always try not to do it. Is there something you won't let one of your friends live down? Yeah – back in 7th grade when we went stargazing for an overnight school activity, Gab made me watch a movie in our tent called Straightheads because her newest favorite actress at the time, Gillian Anderson, was in it. Long story short, within the first ten minutes of the movie, we already saw a pair of nipples. It felt awkward for a bit but we got over it shortly after haha. Are you any good at applying make up? I am soooo not any good at it. Do you know anyone whose hair looks like a wig? Nope. Do you misuse commas? Sometimes I’ll notice that I do, so I always try to correct them. Have you ever bitten your dentist? I don’t think so. Are you someone who likes to make simple things difficult? lol Who makes you laugh the most? My girlfriend.