nb 4


NB! Managed to fix the unsightly glitch related to eyebrows with my previous version! Please re-download the fixed one!

A simple and subtle realistic overlay for all your sim needs! It is base game compatible and should fit most, if not all, natural skin tones. These tone changes are extremely subtle, but adds a pleasing effect to faces. It can be found in face details. Let me know if you need me to add more categories so you can mix and match with all your overlays!


7 times they noticed. (1/7)

(bc I need to make up for the langst I posted last night so here’s so comfort and a little bit of hurt. This is just Shiro’s, the other ones will be up soon. The only warning is a depiction of a panic attack.)

1. Lance winced as Shiro cut into him with words like he was expertly wielding Keith’s bayard. He would’ve found it funny how dad-like he was being, except: a) probably would cause Shiro to bail him out more, and b) it wasn’t very funny at all.

“Don’t you see how childish you’re being! This isn’t just serious, this is a matter of life or death, and your antics cannot get in the way. At the end of the day, do you want to be responsible for someone’s death?” The question sent a wave of nausea through Lance, and he was almost pulled off his feet by a wave of static that clouded his mind as something inside his chest burst. He grabbed his chest in alarm. His breathing was quickening. His chest was on fire. Oh god. Oh god. He curled inwards. Trying to protect himself.

“…” He tried to speak but no words came out, just harsh breaths as he lent against the wall, staring upwards through tears at Shiro who was frozen in fear.

“…Lance? Oh. Um… fuck.” If Lance was in any state of mind, he would have never let Shiro go for swearing in front of him, but as it was, it made Lance’s breath speed up. Shiro approached him like he would a possible hostile alien, slowly and with his hands outstretched. “Okay, Lance, if you can, put your arms around me and follow my breaths. Is that okay?” His voice was low and non-threatening, and in response Lance nodded slowly. His hands shaking as Shiro sat next to him, putting his hand on Lance’s arm. Shiro started taking audible, slow breaths. Lance winced as this effort made his breathing uneven, alternating from barely controlled slow breaths to shaky shallow ones.

“Thanks.” He choked out. Shiro shook his head.

“Don’t talk, just focus on the breathing.” Lance had enough humour to roll his eyes at him, and melodramatically breathed in and breathed out, causing Shiro to laugh, before his smile melted into a concerned frown.  “I’m so sorry Lance.”

“Don’t be. You’re right, of course.” Lance looked down, not willing to meet Shiro’s eyes.

“Just because you were goofing off doesn’t mean I should have said that. It was way out of line. I just –” Shiro trailed off.

“I’m scared too.” Lance responded quietly. “I know. I know that this is a life-or-death thing, but I just can’t think about it. I’m not like you, or Keith, or Allura. I have to distract myself. If I think about for one second someone else dying on my account I just –” Lance’s breath started to quicken again, and Shiro stopped him, beginning the audible intakes and exhales of breath once more. Lance found his voice again. “You’re good at that. Unsurprisingly.”

“Well, thank Coran actually.” Shiro smiled as Lance scoffed. “No really, apparently they’re quite common for Alteans as well as humans. I still get them occasionally, but they were really bad when, you know…” Shiro trailed off before gathering his thoughts once more. “Listen. Are you alright?”

Lance laughed nervously.

“Yeah, of course buddy, don’t worry about it.” He patted Shiro’s arm, got up from the ground and started to walk away when he felt Shiro’s metal arm on his shoulder.

“Really. We all deal with trauma differently, and I’m worried. These coping mechanisms are all fine and good until they start hurting you and other people.” Shiro was staring down at him and Lance shrunk under his worry. Of course Shiro was worried about the others.

“I’m really sorry I’ve been a pain.” He laughed, rubbing the back of his head in a mockery of sheepishness. “I’ve been distracted but don’t worry, to quote our lord Efron, I’ll get my head in the game.” Shiro’s frown did not disappear. “Seriously, dude, don’t worry.” Lance smiled.

“Just, if you need to talk, please do. Whatever problems you have are important, not just for the team’s performance, but for your health as well. Okay? And if you can’t talk to me, talk to Hunk, or Pidge, or even Keith.” Shiro insisted, gesturing emphatically as Lance rolled his eyes. “Please.”

Lance’s face softened, his mask melting away.

“I’m just so scared. What if I never see my family again?” His already tear-filled eyes began brimming once more. “And I’m so scared that I’ll mess up everything, I mean, how the hell can I compare to you guys? Keith’s an amazing combatant, Coran and Allura are the best at strategies, you’re a great leader, Hunk’s an awesome engineer, and Pidge is just a genius!” Shiro stared at Lance as tears spilled down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice.” He pulled his hands over his face. “God, and I’m supposed to be the leader.” Shiro straightened up, looking at Lance. “I can’t express how sorry I am. I forget, I suppose, that you’re children. But know we’re all terrified; and know that we couldn’t do it without you. Because your joking does help, Lance, it breaks the mood and reminds us why we’re fighting - for our humanity. You’re important.”

Lance stood in shock. He wiped the tears off his face.

“Gosh Shiro, you’re such an old man!” He started laughing.

Shiro crossed his arms and stared at Lance. His frown didn’t reach his eyes.

“Come on you youngin, we’ve got training to do.” He walked out of the room, shaking his head. Lance smiled. Maybe things were alright, even if he was just saying it to pacify him. Still. It counted.


Read the other parts:

(nb as of 6/4/17: Hunk is up (along with the Shiro and Pidge ones) others will follow! Edited to flow better, thanks to the anon who mentioned it.)

(nb as of 7/4/17: Coran is up!)

(17/4/17: Allura is posted!)

(this is platonic btw please do not tag as shance or anything similar.)


     😈 🎶 🎶 🎶

                         Shit Crowley has on his iPod probably

7 times they noticed (2/7)

(in honour of my salty child’s birthday. Happy Birthday Pidge! I decided to write this from Pidge’s pov rather than Lance, just for a change.)

Pidge was up late again. Whoops. It was something o’clock in the dead of night - though she could argue in space, time was sort of irrelevant - and she was still perusing through Altean history. Obviously it was all in Altean, and she didn’t know that much, but still there were thorough diagrams of the technologically advanced civilization, so she didn’t mind. So time passed and lo and behold, she was still awake, fervently looking through incomplete blueprints of Voltron, frustrated at her inability to understand the scribbled notes alongside the drawings. It wasn’t as if she was tired. She didn’t really sleep much anymore.

As her rubbed her eyes in annoyance, the screen still bright, she heard a faint muffled noise - though she couldn’t really make out where or who it was coming from, nor the nature of the noise. The door slid open as she crept out into the hallway, seeking the source of the noise. She wondered if it was Shiro, knowing that he too had trouble sleeping, but it didn’t make sense; his room was a way away from hers. As she walked along the corridor, her bare feet cold against the metallic floor, the noise grew slightly louder. Soon she stopped at a door, and it occurred to her that she thought this was Lance’s, but that couldn’t be it. Lance always slept like a log - she fondly remembered in the Garrison days, all the boys trying to wake him up. Then she remembered why she was at the Garrison in the first place, and it seemed less fond.

She hesitated, unsure whether to open the door; but against her better judgement, she did.

The door slid open with a sound, and the owner of the room looked up in surprise. Pidge’s suspicions were correct. It was Lance. But he looked different. In the darkness, she could see watery trails down his cheeks, his eyes puffy, and dark circles apparent. Her eyes widened.

“L-Lance? Uh…” She trailed off, not knowing what to say, not really. He just stared at her, eyes wide and hands shaking, holding his knees under his chin. “Um…should I…go?” Pidge questioned.

“Yeah, sure. Sorry if I woke you up.” Lance found his voice, and it was hollow, as hollow as the smile that appeared on his face. Pidge frowned at his careless air, contrasted to his sweat-laden hair, which was uncharacteristically sticking up in different places.

“You…you didn’t wake me up. I couldn’t sleep.” She was uncomfortable; he looked so very different to the picture of ‘Lance’ in her mind. “Uh…are you alright?” Lance noticed her discomfort, and got up, rubbing his hair with an attempted air of nonchalance.

“Yeah. Totally, dude, don’t worry.”

“Um…really?” Pidge played with her sleeves, twisting them around her fingers.

Lance visibly stiffened, dropping the pretense of confidence, his shoulders tightening.

“…” He didn’t reply, tears brimming. Pidge cautiously approached him, arm outstretched, and patted him on the shoulder nervously. He flinched at her touch and she drew her arm back in shock. “I just…can’t do anything right?” His voice cracked. “I mean, look at you. You’re fourteen, and a genius. How the hell can I compare?” He looked to her, desperation on his face. She paused.

“I mean, you don’t have to, I guess?” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Shit, how do I say this?” She grabbed her hair and sighed, wincing. “Like, we’re all good at different stuff, and…well…” She closed her eyes. “Fuck! I mean, I don’t know how to do half the stuff that you do!” Her voice was louder than she had planned, and Lance’s face froze into an impassive stare.

“Like what, Pidge?” His tone was harsh and she winced in response..

“For one, you’re a really good shot. Like, really good. Do you remember when you came out of unconsciousness? And you hit that bad guy perfectly?” She looked to him for an answer, willing him to just accept it.

“Luck.” He stated simply.

“Well, you’ve done it more than once. Plus, you’re actually funny sometimes, though it pains me to admit it.” She raised her eyebrows and Lance smiled weakly, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You’d help anyone out - you believe the best in people. We’re in, this like, crazy situation and you haven’t stopped being just you. Stupid, amazing, you.” She scratched her ear. “I guess.”

Lance let out a short laugh.

“Sorry, I’m not that good at pep talk - which you are by the way. You can just energise anyone around you. But it’s okay to hurt, Lance.” Pidge looked down.

“I -” Lance begun, but she cut him off.

“But, dude, it’s not okay to hurt alone.” She crossed her arms, biting her lip.

“Thanks for calling me stupid?.” He was smiling as he said this, and Pidge laughed in response.

“Yeah, I’m pretty shit at this, aren’t I? But…if you need to talk, my door - hell, probably everyone’s door is open. I mean, like in the dead of night, probably don’t knock of Hunk’s door, he’s probably asleep. But like, I know Keith trains at this time occasionally, so…” She trailed off when Lance scoffed.

“Keith doesn’t want to talk to me.” He looked down, and Pidge rolled her eyes.

“Sure. Now, can you get back to sleep? I know I really should.” She smiled tersely and Lance nodded, wiping his cheeks. “Um…this is the worst question, but, how do you not look like shit after nights like these? I do.” She winced, but relaxed when he laughed.

“Oh my dear friend, skincare cream and foundation do their wonders.” Lance let out a grin as worry creased Pidge’s face again.

“You shouldn’t have to hide it.” She turned around. “Bye Lance.”

The door closed behind her, and she put her head in her hands. Now she knew. She cursed, wishing she knew earlier. How come she didn’t notice before? She had to tell Shiro, and although she didn’t want to betray his trust, this was far more important than pride. She bit her lip. Maybe it was a once-off thing? In the meanwhile, she should really get some sleep. God knows she needed it.

Read the other parts:

(nb as of 6/4/17: Hunk is up (along with Shiro and Pidge) Others will follow! I’ve done some editing to make the conversation flow better, once again thanks to the anon that pointed it out. I’ve edited Hunk’s and Shiro’s will be done soon. Thanks!)

(7/4/17: Coran is up!)

(17/4/17: Allura is up!)

(general note: I see Pidge and Lance as platonic, but you can read into it as you like. Also, all these stories work together, but can be read separately)

A little something something in honour of Jared-in-tight-Tshirts day

“Jesus, Sammy,” says Dean, “did that shrink in the wash?” It wouldn’t be the first time. Laundromats are always a slightly unstable quantity. Dean’s lost all kinds of beloved clothing over the years. (The Stanford T-shirt Sam mailed him during his first semester at college. A vintage Iron Maiden tour T-shirt he’d picked up for cents at a Goodwill in Philly. Shreds of pink satin, six months after Rhonda Hurley, pulled and pocketed surreptitious from a malfunctioning machine outside Cleveland.) 

Sam looks down at his chest, at the logo straining tight across the taut-pulled fabric. “No-oo?” he says. Dean raises an eyebrow. 

Two patches of pink blossom rosy over Sam’s cheekbones. “I went shopping,” he says, “the other weekend. In Kansas City. When I went to see that film.” 

“Yeah,” says Dean, carefully neutral. 

“Well,” says Sam. “The sales assistant. Uh. I did think it was a little tight but.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. The movement tugs the T-shirt even tighter, emphasising the curved lines of Sam’s pecs, the rounded swell of his bicep. “Threw it in half-price,” he mumbles. “Said it would be a shame.” 

Dean’s amused, mostly. Sammy’s taste in clothes is… idiosyncratic. He can’t imagine his brother in the kind of boutique that might sell him something like this. He tries to picture her, the salesgirl, heart-eyed over this big scruffy scarecrow. She was probably tiny, tiny and glamorous and young. 

“Lady-killer,” he says. 

Sam turns pinker, looks up to meet Dean’s eye. Aw, Sammy, Dean wants to say. He doesn’t quite understand how Sam can still be so clueless around women, so surprised every time he gets hit on. And it doesn’t sound like this chick was trying too hard to be subtle. Half-price. 

Then, “Who says it was a lady?” Sam says, and Dean’s world tilts a little bit sideways. The tiny blonde saleswoman in his head dissolves, resolving into a hard-bodied, chisel-chinned dude, a guy looking Sam up and down as he twists in the mirror. This isn’t. Dean doesn’t.

He blinks at his brother, open-mouthed, but Sam’s already shrugging, looking away. “Yeah, I don’t know. You’re right, it’s… I’ll go take it off.”

“Hey, no,” Dean says without thinking, his own cheeks heated now, tingling-flush with an indefinable anxiety. “Leave it, Sam. It looks good.” 

Sam wrinkles his nose. 

“Really,” Dean says. His eyes skitter again over Sam’s chest, the breadth of his shoulders, the veins that twist down his arms. “You look good,” he says.

7 times they noticed. (3/7)

It’s time for sunshineTM, Hunk. Also, thanks to everyone who’s been reblogging/like this stuff! I’m really enjoying writing it.

Lance cursed under his breath as tears welled in his eyes again. Again. Why was this becoming a usual occurrence? He bit the inside of his cheek, willing his eyes to stop whatever it was they were deciding to do. It wasn’t even something big this time. It wasn’t Shiro bailing him out for goofing off, or Pidge dismissing his existence. It wasn’t even Keith insulting him as usual. It was just four words from Hunk.

“Are you okay buddy?”

It tore his insides, the way Hunk looked at him, the concerned frown, the twisted mouth. He felt strangely guilty as he sent Hunk his trademark smile, nodded and passed him, tears already spilling. He was an idiot to think Hunk wouldn’t notice; Hunk knew him way too well for that. He always could tell. Ever since they became friends, it was like Hunk had this crazy ‘people are upset’ Geiger counter. It was the source of a few - the only - conflicts they had has friends; if Lance ever hid anything from Hunk, or vice versa, there would be hell to pay.

So Lance walked down the corridor, praying to whatever weird space deity could hear him that Hunk wouldn’t chase him down and give him that bear hug that no matter what would cause Lance to spill out his problems. He really didn’t want to burden Hunk with his non-issues; it wasn’t like he was the only one experiencing homesickness, after all. He reached his room in what seemed like record time, and collapsed on his bed.

He wish he didn’t notice the door open. He did. He also noticed arms envelop him as his friend sat down beside him. Tears that had been held back leaked out once more as he pushed his face into Hunk’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” Lance’s said, his voice  muffled as his head remained buried in Hunk’s shoulder, tears dripping onto Hunk’s shirt.

“Okay. What are you sorry about?” Hunk’s voice was quiet. Lance cringed at the concerned tone.

“For - for not being good enough, for burdening you with my problems, for feeling like I’m the only one with issues when I’m not and it’s not even like I have issues anyway.” Lance looked up, meeting Hunk’s eyes for a moment and then looking away, unable to face the worry in his eyes.

“Buddy, you’re not being a burden. And hey?”


“You’ve literally done the same for me. I wasn’t being a burden then, well, that’s what you insisted.” Hunk said, smiling. Lance shook his head slowly in response.

“You can’t compare your situation with mine. It’s different.” Lance didn’t look into Hunk’s eyes as he spoke quietly, looking down. Hunk shrugged, inadvertently bumping Lance’s head, which caused Lance to let out an exhale of laughter. Hunk smiled.

“Yeah, but the outcome’s the same. Sadness. Sadness sucks, man.” Hunk raised his eyebrows, nodding emphatically as Lance rolled his eyes.

“Wow. Your words have eloquence like none other.” Lance’s lips curved upwards, slowly turning into a smile, his words tinged with heavy sarcasm. Hunk let out a short laugh.

“Wow. I didn’t know you knew what eloquence meant.” Hunk tried to speak with a serious face, but instead broke out into giggles. Lance punched Hunk’s arm lightly, feigning a glare before a smile lifted up his cheeks.

“Rude.” He humphed in a melodramatic fashion, before his smile faded. “I just - this is crazy right? We’re in space and…I’m just…” Lance gestured as to finish his sentence. Hunk raised his eyebrows, agreeing with a nod.

“We always dreamed of this, right? And it’s happening and its so much scarier than we ever thought it’d be.” He looked at Lance.

“Well, I’m happy you’re here. At least there’s a familiar face through it.” Lance smiled, and Hunk returned it with a beaming grin.

“Lance? Being sincere? What?” Lance rolled his eyes in response, once again punching Hunk’s shoulder.

“Shut up.” Lance grumbled, but Hunk ignored him, getting up and opening the door, proceeding to shout across the corridor.

“Hey guys! Come here quick! Lance is being sincere! I think it’s a bonding moment!” He turned around to smirk at Lance, who crinkled his nose in irritation.

“Seriously? Are you ever going to let that go?” Lance glared at Hunk who shrugged, closing the door again, lips twitching into a beaming smile.

“When you acknowledge it happened and you and Keith can work together without being dicks to each other.” Lance didn’t respond, instead merely pointedly staring at Hunk.

Then the door opened, and a certain mullet-clad paladin put his head round the door with confusion written across his face.

“Um…Hunk? Why were you shouting?”

Hunk burst out laughing as Keith looked on, his expression morphing from confusion to irritation and confusion.

“…okay…”  Keith said in hesitation, looking from the collapsed Hunk, laughing, to the Lance who was slowly curling on himself, appearing to try and sick into the mattress. Hunk opened his mouth to respond, but instead began laughing twice as loudly. Keith just stared and began slowly closing the door.

“Seriously dude? What was that?”  Lance glared at him, finally sitting up as  Hunk’s laughing began to subside to giggles. “You know he doesn’t like me back, right?” Lance looked down. Hunk stopped laughing.

“Maybe. I don’t know. But if you gave him a chance to actually get to know you?” He trailed off in sing-song voice. Lance frowned once more.

“No one wants to know me.” Tears dripped from his eyes, and Hunk’s smile vanished, once again engulfing Lance in a hug. “No one wants me.”

“That’s not true. I know you. I like you.” Hunk smiled.

“Thanks,” Lance sighed. “Seriously.”

“Dude I’ve dealt with you for a long while. You’re stuck with me. Can’t get rid of me.” Hunk tightened his hug around Lance, who let out a hesitant laugh.

“Thanks.” Lance closed his eyes. “Sorry.” Hunk patted Lance on the back. 

“Don’t apologise.”

“Sorry.” They both laughed weakly. Lance pried himself off of Hunk, smiling through watery eyes. “I think I’ll go train.” Lance rolled his eyes as Hunk smiled knowingly. “No, not because of that, Hunk you weirdo. I need to get better. I’m sick of being the worst.” Hunk opened his mouth to reply. “No, I am.”

Hunk sighed.

“Just, be careful. And don’t avoid me again, ok?” Hunk stared at Lance, brows furrowed, and Lance looked sheepish.

“Yeah.” Lance shook his head. “I think we’re both getting sentimental in our old age.”

“Lance you’re barely 17.” Hunk laughed. “See you around, Lance.” He ruffled Lance’s hair much to the boy’s frustration.

“See you.”

wow. was that? a less depressing entry? Yes it was. Just fyi I do tend to lean towards Klance (and pining Lance + Keith) but this could be romantic if you like. I don’t mind. And again, thanks to everyone responding to this!

Read the other parts:

(nb as of 5/4/17: Shiro, Pidge and Hunk are now up, the other ones will be done soon!)

(7/4/17: Coran is up!)

(17/4/17: Allura is now posted! Thanks for all the feedback!)

According to all known laws
of aviation,

there is no way a bee
should be able to fly.

Its wings are too small to get
its fat little body off the ground.

The bee, of course, flies anyway

because bees don’t care
what humans think is impossible.

Yellow, black. Yellow, black.
Yellow, black. Yellow, black.

Ooh, black and yellow!
Let’s shake it up a little.

Barry! Breakfast is ready!


Hang on a second.


- Barry?
- Adam?

- Oan you believe this is happening?
- I can’t. I’ll pick you up.

Looking sharp.

Use the stairs. Your father
paid good money for those.

Sorry. I’m excited.

Here’s the graduate.
We’re very proud of you, son.

A perfect report card, all B’s.

Very proud.

Ma! I got a thing going here.

- You got lint on your fuzz.
- Ow! That’s me!

- Wave to us! We’ll be in row 118,000.
- Bye!

Barry, I told you,
stop flying in the house!

- Hey, Adam.
- Hey, Barry.

- Is that fuzz gel?
- A little. Special day, graduation.

Never thought I’d make it.

Three days grade school,
three days high school.

Those were awkward.

Three days college. I’m glad I took
a day and hitchhiked around the hive.

You did come back different.

- Hi, Barry.
- Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good.

- Hear about Frankie?
- Yeah.

- You going to the funeral?

Le présent de l’indicatif

Verbs in french can belong to three groups. 

The verbs from the first group end in -ER (manger, révéler, nommer), the verbs from the second group end in -IR (dormir, finir, bâtir) and the third group is a large bin (other verbs in -IR (courir), also aller, être, boire, vendre…).

Premier groupe :

Marcher (to walk) : 

- je marche, tu marches, il marche

- nous marchons, vous marchez, ils marchent

NB 1 : verbs jeter (to throw away) and appeler (to call) double the consonant for singular forms and plural third person (je jette, ils appellent). 

NB 2 : for verbs in -yer the y becomes an i for singular forms and plural third person (appuyer (to press) : j’appuie, nous appuyons, ils appuient). 

NB 3 : for verbs in -cer and -ger, the plural first person changes (lancer (to throw) : nous lançons, manger (to eat) : nous mangeons).

Deuxième groupe : (look for plural -iss-)

Finir (to finish) :

- je finis, tu finis, il finit

- nous finissons, vous finissez, ils finissent

Troisième groupe :

Courir (to run) :

- je cours, tu cours, il court

- nous courons, vous courez, ils courent

Descendre (to go down / walk down) :

- je descends, tu descends, il descend

- nous descendons, vous descendez, ils descendent

Vouloir (to want) :

- je veux, tu veux, il veut

- nous voulons, vous voulez, ils veulent

Ouvrir (to open) :

- j’ouvre, tu ouvres, il ouvre

- nous ouvrons, vous ouvrez, ils ouvrent

NB 1 : dire (to say) and faire (to do) ‘s plural second person are irregular (vous dites, vous faites). 

NB 2 : pouvoir (to can) and vouloir (to want)’s singular forms take a -x instead of a -s (je peux, tu veux). 

NB 3 : for -aître verbs (naître (to be born), paraître (to appear), the î stays only before a -t (il apparaît).

NB 4 : numerous verbs from the third group have two bases, thank you Middle Age (venir (to come) : je viens, vous venez ; aller (to go) : je vais, nous allons).

I'm getting this off my fucking chest right fucking now.

Genderqueer and androgynous people have been frowned upon and shunned for a very long time, and often rejected from the trans community. We’ve been disregarded and invalidated on a day to day basis.
I love Ruby Rose as she had helped me so much through coming out. She is very physically attractive. But now that she’s out there, she’s been immediately turned into sex object, and her actual gender identity (GENDER FLUID) has been swept under the rug as a bunch a straight teenage girls run around shrieking that “Ruby Rose made me GAY!!!”
2 things are wrong with this.

1) Ruby is not a girl, so you wouldn’t be gay. You’d literally have to say that you’re bi/pan for Ruby.
2) It insinuates that being gay is a choice. It just does.

And I’m fucking sick of how andro/nb people are being brought into the limelight as sexual objects.
How about we learn more about their identities? Their stories? How about we say “holy fuck, these people exist, let’s get some understanding up in here!” instead of “look at this sex thing that u can misgender constantly because we didn’t care to FUCKING EDUCATE YOU ON WHO THEY ACTUALLY ARE.”
How about we turn androgyny/being non binary into an understood thing rather than a fucking fetish.

Shout out to Steven Universe for normalizing changing your name with this latest bomb. Greg is so positive about it in such an offhand way, and it’s something that clearly matter a lot for him. He changed his name, Steven can change his name if he wants to. It was given with love, not with expectations. He can be Nora or Pizza Pizzadopolis or whoever he wants to be. He can be anything