To the guest who kept spamming my review section with requests, me asking you to stop doing that doesn't grant you permission to spam my Tumblr. If you want to request something, it has to be related to the latest Tumblr prompt that I'm working on and it can't be in the reviews. I don't do random requests.

Prompt: Send me an adjective and I'll write a drabble or headcanon for my muse based on that adjective.

Post-canon. Shelly is 16, Stan is 12. I think that this chapter juxtaposes nicely with the previous, if I may toot my own horn.

"Why did you have to cook steak tonight? It smells so fucking good!"

"Stanley! Language!" Sharon admonished. "I normally wouldn't have, but these were on sale and I had to cook them before they spoiled."

Stan morosely picked at his mashed potatoes in response.

Shelly rolled her eyes at her brother. He was such a pussy.

"Why couldn't you get me one of those clear things?" Stan whined. "These hurt and Cartman is totally going to rip on me!"

Shelly couldn't take it anymore. "Shut up, turd! At least you don't have to wear headgear! I would have killed to wear regular braces!"

A couple of years ago, Stan would have clammed up at this immediately, but he kept complaining.

"Kyle's cousin was allergic to his braces! How do you know that I won't be too? I'm going to look like a total melvin if I have to wear a mouth guard at my games! Please, Mom and Dad! You have to do something!"

Shelly couldn't listen to this anymore. Before she knew what she was doing, she took a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes and flung them in her brother's face.

"Shelly Marsh!" Sharon shrieked. "You are sixteen years old! Really?!"

Shelly didn't care how immature she looked. At least she managed to finally shut the turd up.

Later that evening, Shelly passed by Stan's room on the way to her own. He had left his door ajar.

Shelly caught a glimpse of her brother staring sadly into his mirror. He looked near tears.

Stan didn't have to wear headgear like she did, but the other disgusting woes of puberty had hit the poor kid like a ton of bricks overnight. His hair looked like a grease pit, his face was covered in zits, and his voice cracked with every other word. And to add insult to injury, he was the first among his friends to experience all of this.

Part of Shelly wanted to barge in and hit him. She would have taken a few zits and normal braces over headgear any day, had she had the option four years ago. However, as she watched Stan brood, an unfamiliar sensation welled inside of her.

Empathy.

Shelly softly pushed Stan's door open.

"You're going to need to carry some chapstick. All of the drooling will wreck your lips."

Stan jumped a foot in the air. "S-shelly?!"

His sister stepped into the bedroom. "Did the orthodontist give you any wax? That helps with the sores on the inside of your lips."

"Yeah, he gave me some. What are you-"

"And always carry some toenail clippers. If one of your brackets break, you can use them to clip the wire."

Stan was gobsmacked. While Shelly had mellowed out quite a bit in the year and a half since she had lost her own braces, she was still intimidating as fuck and tended not to pay him much mind. Why was she doing this?

"I still have my old Water Pick if you need it."

"Um, thanks. Can I ask you something?"

"Spit it out, turd."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Shelly heaved a sigh. She hated showing this side of herself so fucking much.

"I just know how much braces suck, okay? I had to learn about all of this stuff by myself, so I figured I could give you some tips. Maybe then you'll stop bitching so much!"

"Oh. Uh, thanks."

Shelly fidgeted almost nervously. "I'm running to the drugstore for a couple of things. You can come with me. I mean, if you want. You'll need to stock up on some stuff."

Stan smiled, revealing the red and blue rubber bands that adorned his teeth. "Okay! Just let me grab my coat."

"Consider this my one good deed for the year, turd!" Shelly called after him. "Be at my car in exactly thirty seconds!"

Shelly walked to her car, lost in thought. The poor turd was in for a rocky couple of years. Shelly actually felt sorry for him. She genuinely hoped that his pubescent years weren't as bad as hers were.

Maybe she could fit in a second good deed this year.

Too few authors portray the boys during their awkward stages. Just sayin'. And before the inevitable complaints that Stan is too whiny here, he has just entered the absolute worst stage of puberty. Of course he's going to be whiny. We've all been there.