#welcome to the fray dweeb

[andorshitdaily]

Andor characters + make up a guy tweets, part two

[mlovesstories]

Man from the Mountains Part 3

Summary: YN and Dean have been dating for a year, welcome back to the mountains!

Man From the Mountains PART 1- PART 2

Words: none

One year later

“No!” YN gasped.  Smiling nervously, she backed away from the man one one knee in front of her.  

“If you’ll have me, then yes.” Dean grinned but softened when she didn’t reply. 

“Dean. I mean, yes! I will absolutely marry you.” 

Her now fiance stood from the middle of the room in the cabin he shared with Sam.  

“Bout time, you dweebs.” Sam walked in with groceries. 

“Boy! Get outta here!” Dean ripped the groceries from his hands and threw them on the floor.  “I told you to be gone for two hours!” The shorter brother turned Sam around and shoved him outside before locking the door.  “Jerk.” Dean sighed and regained his composure.  “So, will you do this with me? Really.” 

“I would love to be your soon-to-be Mrs. Winchester,” YN nudged Dean playfully and then withdrew her hand to gaze at the ring on her finger. He took her hand and brought it to his lips.  Kissing it, he looked up at her. 

“Yes, Mr. Winchester?” 

“You are going to be a wonderful wife.” 

“Wow, a rare encouraging word from the gruff mountain man.” YN grinned.  

“Please stop calling me that…” Dean trailed off.  ‘I’m not proud of how I treated you when we first met, and- I don’t want to be known for that anymore.” He glanced up at her from his shoes.  She took his hand.  

“I didn’t realize.  I’m sorry.” YN squeezed his hand.  “I kinda like it though.  It reminds me of how we first met and how you became a flustered puppy in love.  Bet you never thought you would fall in love with a city girl.” YN smirked. 

“I was not a flustered puppy in love, as you say.” 

“You totally were.  Still are.” Sam walked in behind them from the back of the house. “Back door was unlocked.”

Dean whacked him on the back of the head. 

“Totally worth the head injury,” the younger Winchester laughed.  “ Had to use the bathroom.  Going out, see ya lovebirds later!” Sam yelled behind him.  

“Sam! Radio!” YN and Dean yelled in unison.  They laughed.  On the other hand, Sam grumbled. 

“I didn’t realize I would be getting an annoying, overbearing sister in this deal,” the taller man walked back into the house and took a radio off of the charging stand.  After clipping it on his pant waist, he walked over and kissed her cheek in thanks.  “Bye.” 

‘Bye, Sammy.” 

“So are we doing this?” Dean turned his focus beck to YN. 

“Yes. Forever and always.” 

He slowly hugged her, running his fingers up and down her back. 

“Thank you for what you do for me,” he whispered. 

“Why are we whispering?” YN smiled but froze. “Why are you crying?” 

“I’m the happiest I’ve been in a while.” 

“I’m glad.  You deserve to enjoy life every once in a while, Dean Winchester.”

Forevers: 

@katymacsupernatural  @unicornblood4ever  

@fangirl-moment-x  @empirialwolf @winchesters-favorite-girl

@super100012  @percywinchester27  @waywardsuns  @supernatural-jackles  

@mcallmestiles @sdavid09  @kingandrear  @bellero @skylarraker

@seality​​​​​ @jaycc7983​​​ @luci-in-trenchcoats​​​

@cherryblossomflowers​​ @because-you-never-know-when​

@sleepylunarwolf​ @choosemyname​

@internationalmusicteacher​ @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​

@encounterthepast​  @torn-and-frayed​

@giggles1026​ @xiumin-girl99​

@mangueweaschester​

@idksupernatural​  @silverstripe101a​

@thevelvetseries​ @samsgirl93​   @supernatural3002​ *

* @breereadsthings​ *

@vicmc624​ @hookedinto-fictionalworlds​   @beatifuldisaster018​

@miraclesoflove​ @myopiamystical​ 

@waywardnewcomer​  

@akshi8278​  

@metalfangirl​ @squirrelnotsam

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #9- Cops is Filmed on Location With the Mechs of Law Enforcement

It’s time for some gotdang origin stories, y’all.

Back before the war, when Functionist ideology was really just rocking the scene hardcore, Nightbeat stood outside of Maccadam’s New Oil House and had a chat with Quark.

No, not that Quark, the other one.

Quark’s reading an article at Nightbeat’s request about an attack on something called a relinquishment clinic, by a member of the Decepticons. Quark’s not a huge fan of the Decepticons, because he’s got a good thing going on Functionist Cybertron as a rare proton microscope, and even if things aren’t perfect, they’re pretty okay for him personally. At least he’s aware of his privilege.

Don’t be so quick to judge, Quark. Some Decepticons are into microscopes.

He’s pretty convinced that if the Decepticons get their way, they’re going to murder anyone who’s never handled a shovel. This is the same sort of misconception a lot of people have about the phrase “eat the rich”- it’s more about those who benefit from the social structure by way of oppressing others as opposed to those who flourish within it by their own work ethic and talents.

Granted, we as the reader know that shit is absolutely going to go sideways for everyone once the war kicks off, but Quark as it currently stands shouldn’t be nearly as worried as he is. He thinks Rung of all people is a threat, so you can tell he’s really feeling the paranoia of the times.

Hi Rung! Hope you’re enjoying your you-time. It’s important to have that, good for mental health.

The conspiracy convo gets cut short as Quark’s drink gets dripped in.

I mean, it’s all the same stuff, right? He could probably still drink it. Waste not, want not.

In the present day, we set up our framing device, with all of our friends welcoming Ratchet into the fray, as he shows off the fact that he finally color-matched his hands to the rest of his body.

Here’s a little joke for you: a spiritualist, two doctors, an archivist, a sentient marshmallow, a victim of ritualistic mutilation, and the hottest guy on the ship watch a third doctor walk into a bar.

Gentlemen, please, I haven’t even gotten to the punchline yet.

Anyway, Rewind’s set up this little hang sesh for medicinal purposes, after consulting Chromedome on the nature of the brain.

Rung’s looking a lot better than the last time we saw him, in that he’s got a head again, but he’s not really… functional right now. Hence this little meet up- everyone here has had their paths cross many times in the past, whether they realized it or not.

Except Tailgate, who took a six million year dirt-nap. He’s just here for shits and giggles.

And Swerve, but it’s his bar, and he’s lonely, so of course he’s going to stick around for this.

Anyway, those assembled will be taking turns in telling the story they all played a part in, in an attempt to kick-start Rung’s brain back into letting him do literally anything. Thanks to his obscenely large collection of historical documents and footage, Rewind more or less knows the structure the story will take- as shown by his conspiracy bulletin board that maps out everything that will be covered in the Shadowplay arc. The central pin in all this? Well, it’s Transformers, and it’s been a hot minute since we’ve seen the face of the franchise, so you tell me who it’s going to be.

Rewind sets the scene, giving everyone the skinny on the setting we’ll be in for the next little bit.

Way to see the silver lining, Swerve.

Chromedome starts the story off, because he’s a main character in all this, and also if you think Rewind would pass up the chance to listen to this capital-T-shaped dweeb talk, you’re deluding yourself.

In the past Chromedome worked mechaforensics- y’know, forensics for mecha- under a different name, which we will not be learning at this current time because it’ll muddle the already-convoluted narrative we’re about to get going here. Chromedome had the displeasure of working alongside then-desk jockey, Prowl.

Awful geared up for a desk jockey, ain’t he?

Yep. Chromedome used to be a cop, he partnered up with Prowl, he looked even more like a koala than he does now, and he was on the case of the assassinated Senator Sherma. What they don’t tell you is that if Sherma had turned out to have survived the ordeal of being strung up from a bridge upside-down, he would have been charged with food and health code violations for that little stunt he pulled on Quark’s drink.

Skids breaks the narrative flow to get the low-down on Prowl’s whole deal, because he doesn’t know who that is. Swerve breaks it down real quick, while Rewind provides visual aid.

A for effort.

The boys get a little distracted discussing Prowl’s anger management practices, until Drift asks that they move on, because Rodimus is sending him insulting messages on his tiny and paper thin comm because he can’t handle being ignored by his #1 fan. It’s just as well though, because it’s Drift’s turn to spin the yarn.

So, once upon a time, Drift wasn’t doing so hot. It wasn’t the whole “I’m a murderous Decepticon” thing- that was later on- but rather a horrific drug addiction, sense of self-loathing and being homeless. On the day of Sherma’s assassination, Drift was so out of his gourd on circuit speeders, he didn’t even register the fact that he was approached by a pair of robots and promptly beaten by the two of them for money.

Things looks bad for poor Drift, but not to worry, because the main reason for this arc existing just showed up.

There he is, in all his pin-up art glory.

Orion Pax, the mech who would become Optimus Prime, proceeds to arrest Sonic and Boom- yeah, it’s the two guys from Delphi, we aren’t wasting the brain power on creating two new characters for this one scene, that’s crazy talk- and then calls for a bus to keep Drift from biting it due to drug overdose.

Listen to the professionals, folks. They know more than you about the shit that can kill you. It’s why they get paid the big bucks.

(I have no idea what Ratchet’s salary is like.)

Drift is taken to Ratchet’s super-secret, please-don’t-tell-the-Senate-about-this clinic in the Dead End, where we get a taste of Drift riffing on Ratchet in the present, as he paints a picture of a spiritual young doctor who actively and loudly praises Adaptus as he works on a ODing patient. The Ratchet of the here and now doesn’t appreciate this twisting of the truth, and makes it known by smearing his still-wet hand paint all over Drift’s face.

Shane McCarthy slipped James Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet back in issue #4. Here, Roberts tends to the seeds of their shared past that were planted in the Delphi arc.  

Drift didn’t take Ratchet’s advice back then, something that is and will continue to be a running issue for the two of them, and the sudden downshift in tone lets Tailgate ask about just what in the sam hill a relinquishment clinic is. Chromedome fills him in, Rewind providing visuals.

A relinquishment clinic was a place where a Transformer could sell their body- not in a sex-work way, but literally, as you let someone else have their spark planted into your vacated frame for a short period of time, just to try out different modes and looks. It was expensive, and only used to get around the fact that only the most elite of cybertronians could alter their bodies, because only they had enough influence to have the Functionist Senate look the other way. Ratchet never approved of the practice, and this is where he takes over the story.

Too bad we don’t get to see what all that’s about just yet, because there are more pressing matters at hand, like the fact that Nominus Prime is dead.

Seems like there’s a conspiracy at hand, and Orion is considering introducing Ratchet to a friend on the inside- and in the present time, Drift leaves to go meet with Rodimus so he’ll stop being a pest. Chromedome picks his story thread back up, bringing us to Prowl’s requested autopsy.

The boys in the lab broke Sherma down to his base parts, labeled each part, and laid them out on the floor in no discernible order. Maybe it’s based on the Cybertronian alphabet. I suppose we’ll never know.

The autopsy revealed that Sherma was shot several times, which we’d already managed to suss out at the scene of the crime, without getting half the forensics team involved, but we did get a little something for our troubles.

More evidence for Rodimus’ Uggs.

No, I’m never letting this go, don’t even bother asking.

The kind of glass that they found is only found in one specific area of Iacon, known as Translucentica Heights, and how about that! Prowl just so happens to have a search warrant for Translucentica Heights. Wow. Way to go, Prowl.

Meanwhile, Ratchet and Orion are hanging out at the monument for the Ark-1, which is the ship that fucked off into space and got eaten by the Dead Universe. Cyclonus remembers. I bet he kind of wishes that he didn’t, but he remembers.

Orion’s very good friend the Senator shows up, and Orion introduces him to Ratchet. The Senator was first introduced in Chaos Theory- he’s convinced that Orion is a very special individual, and had his body altered without permission while he was passed out, so that he might one day carry the Matrix.

Orion is maybe just a touch too trusting of authority figures, unless that figure is god himself.

Ratchet helps create a visage of not-plotting, as Orion and the Senator discuss whether or not Nominus was assassinated by the Senate. Dear Senator says “fuck yeah he was” and it was in no small part due to the fact that the Matrix he was carrying was a fake.

There’s also something that’s going on between Sentinel and the Decepticons, which leads Orion to ask about Megatron and how he’s doing. He’d probably be doing a hell of a lot better if you hadn’t given the Senate that he directly opposes his full name and occupation, Orion, but it’s sweet that you’re worried.

Back with the wonder cops, Chromedome and Prowl are shooting across the sky to the tune of Shooting Star as they make their way over to Translucentica Heights. They discuss the validity of claims that the Institute exists as they make their way over to Sherma’s apartment building, when someone gets thrown out the window from roughly 4000 stories up.

Trailbreaker was right, Fort Max having guns in his legs doesn’t make him special, if these losers are doing it too.

In the present, Drift’s finally caught up with Rodimus in the oil reservoir, where he’s coaxing Grapple like a wounded baby deer through pulling something out of the muck.

It’s Red Alert, and he’s seen better days.

I mean, sure, that seems like the most likely option, seeing as he’s the only non-Autobot aboard this giant stupid ship, and you haven’t done anything to actually gather evidence on what’s happened to our pal here. It makes sense for the knee-jerk reaction to be to blame the dude who blew up Kimia.

We’ll see where that line of thought gets us next issue.

[bluboothalassophile]

A prompt where Roy introduces Raven to the Navajo (of whom she may or may not have relatives). If you have to give her a reason to meet them, well, the native americans have thier own magic right? Raven being headcanoned on having Navajo blood isn't the most explored concept, so here's an opportunity to expand on that if you want.

Hello,

Okay, I am going to be extremely honest with you, since introducing the idea I have for Raven’s heritage, I have been toying with a HfaB story idea for her and Roy. It has been nagging me since the introduction of Alice in the HfaB universe. Again, this is mostly because I have toyed with the notion of exploring Raven’s heritage, and because I have a dear friend who is a RoyRae shipper, @purplepenner​, and while I am not, I do love their friendship.

So I’ll give you guys the summary of the story and the title, which will probably be posted after I finish I’ve Got the Umbrella, and as a short like Welcome to Chaos:

Yee Naaldlooshii

The Wedding was set for September 23, it’s not the wedding of the century but it is the wedding of the family, and Roy’s rocky relationship with the Arrows and Flashes have him invited. As brother of the bride, not as a groomsman. His ‘date’ to the wedding, Raven.

Of course there is this road trip from Gotham City, New Jersey to San Diego, California. The Road Trip is naturally a good-natured cover up, coerced by Vic, Harley and Ivy for Raven to have a Thanksgiving with her blood relatives and reconnecting with her heritage. There’s also the bonus of Step Nine leading Roy to take a detour through Farmington, New Mexico, to reconnect with his foster brother and old roots. Alice has also offered them a room at the family ranch house.

So how is it that town’s children are disappearing and no one can dare to look for them?

Now here’s a snippet of the opening chapter…

Spoilers for Hopes for a Bastard…

Roy sat there in Gotham Siren’s HQ with Lian on hisshoulders; as she munched the crackers from Ivy as he watched the argumentunfold. It was a train wreck.

He had originally asked Raven to be his date for Artemis andWally’s wedding because asking Donna just seemed wholly inappropriate. Especiallywith how his tentative recovering was starting to have him stable. Also, he wasa single dad with a toddler, who adored Donna, an Outlaw, and an Arrow, he wasjust starting to really make a connection with his family. After almost twoyears of sobriety he found being sober, again, more important than anythingright now. Which was why Raven was to be his date for the wedding; which was tobe in Vietnamese fanfare at the request of the bride, with a Baptist ceremonyat behest of Wally.

It was going to be a hell of an event.

“I’m not going to Thanksgiving with her!” Raven snapped.

“Rae, you’re going!” Victor shouted.

“No!”

“You’re going.” Harley and Ivy deadpanned.

“She stalked me!” Raven sputtered.

“We know.”

“She has harassed me!”

“Rae, as your mama, I’m saying you’re going and that isfinal, and I will be seeing to it that one way or another your skinny littleass is over in New Mexico for Thanksgiving, and at that wedding; you’ll be backin time for finals, so get going!” Harley snapped.

“I packed your bag, Roy got it to the car,” Ivy supplied.

Roy almost laughed as Raven balked. But Jason, who was hungup in the BatCave because of a botched mission with Tim and Dick, wasn’t hereto valiantly save the little bird from the impending road trip.

“Come on Rae, let’s go,” Roy chuckled standing.

“WEEEEEEEE!” Lian squealed as she stole his hat and giggledin delight at being so high. Natural born archer this one.

“I hate you all,” Raven growled as she stalked off.

“Oh, come on, it won’t be that bad!” Roy chuckled as he slunghis arm around her shoulders.

“Roy, I’m being forced to interact with a woman who has beenbugging me since the dinner; which I ran out of to go save yours and Jay’s ass,last year, to come around, after I made a deal with her to be left alone if Isaid no,” Raven sighed.

“It’s not that bad Rae,” he promised.

“Roy, satanic cult after me,” she reiterated.

“You’re going. It’ll be fine, Lian and I got your back,” hechuckled.

“My knights in shining armor,” she sighed.

“Da’s lil bird mine!” Lian cackled.

“You know your da doesn’t share,” Roy mused.

“Well, she takes after both her dads in that regards,” Ravensighed. Roy caught his little monkey, swinging her around as he opened the cardoor for Lian. Lian nimbly clambered in, he strapped her in as he got the doorfor Rae. Raven sighed.

“Can I just put this on the record, this is a bad idea.”

“Yes, we already said it to Felicity, when she demanded megoing to the wedding of one of my best friends marrying a girl who is kind oflike my little sister,” Roy reminded Raven as they buckled in.

“I like Wally,” Lian giggled. “He fast!”

“Yes, he is.”

“You’re a dweeb, and I can’t believe you agreed for me to gothere for a week before the wedding,” Raven sighed.

“Well, you’re my date for these weddings.”

“And what happens when you get married? You and I going tothat together?”

“Well, I’d say yes, but I think Jason would murder me at thealter.”

“Why does everyone say that! We’re not together, dating, oranything!” Raven growled in frustration.

“Rae, you and Jay are magnetic, so get over it, accept theobvious, and also know you’re my date for Garth’s wedding as soon as he figuresout if he’s marrying Tula or Dolphin.”

“I have fifty bucks on him marrying Dolphin,” Raven said.

“Really? Cause I think it’d be Tula,” Roy said.

“Why is that?”

“Cause, Tula’s that girl,” Roy lied.

“We’re terrible people for betting on our friends’ lovelives,” Raven muttered.

“No, we’re only terrible people if we get caught betting ontheir love lives.  By the way, I need youand Jay not let me down and get hitch in a decade, so I don’t lose a grand to Donna,”Roy teased. He was only half serious; but neither Jay nor Rae needed to knowabout what was going on with the Bats and the bets to get them together.

“I will send you to Hell. Into the deep pits of Hell thatyou can’t even imagine,” Raven warned.

“You’ll thank me when you get hitched,” he grinned.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Raven warned him dismissively asshe pulled out some of her homework. Roy didn’t mention that the kisscam hadbeen his idea between himself and Stephanie, with Damian’s help. It was astart, but the looks those two had had was worth it. It was also a start. Butnothing drastic.

Roy sighed as they started to head out from Gotham.

It’d been a busy year, since Artemis and Bizarro had comeinto the fray of their little rag tag family. It was something different, andalien to how living with Ollie and Thea had been. Roy had kind of liked the waythe Outlaws was forming a family vibe. Despite Jason’s extreme disgruntledattitude about the communal living.

However, this wedding would be the first major family eventthat he would be attending without his ‘husband’, as Jason had been the oneattending every family event with him since he had agreed to Jason’s rules andliving with him. Jason had also, with great reluctance been attending everysingle Arrow and Bat family event. So, in all fairness, Roy was a bit nervousnot having his rock for support there as his best friend was currently tied upin the BatCave, drugged with a bad wound.

“You know this is the first time that I am going to a familyevent without Jason, it’s kind of daunting.”

“Don’t worry, your moronic husband will be fine,” Ravenmused.

“No one said Bats were smart,” Roy mused.

“I warned him, I wasn’t going to heal him this time around,”Raven muttered. “Also, you can’t seriously tell me that he has gone to everyArrow event. I have to yank his teeth out to get him to the Bats!”

[sallywiththeface]

The Eye of the Beholder

Sal/Larry Tags/Warnings: angst, fluff, anxiety, facial dysmorphia, potential body horror? (Just a description of Sal's disfiguration and some of the medical procedures and reconstruction), mutual pining, first person perspective, PTSD. This is just a drabble I wrote last night based on some headcanons and ideas that have been building up for me. I'm also welcome to critique and feedback! This is likely a WIP and I'll probably add to it and delete this original post later to repost the new versions as I go along, but we'll see. Enjoy! 🖤 ---------------------------------------- I stare blankly into the mirror in Larry’s bathroom, lost in my own reflection. This happened often, I'd lose track of time, gaping at the glass as I searched over and over for anything left behind from before the incident. Wishing I could find anything to remind me of how I used to look. I'd forgotten my own face not long after I'd lost it. I'm ripped from my trance as a knock sounds at the door “Sal? You still alive in there buddy? It's been like 20 minutes.” Larry's familiar voice almost immediately soothed my nerves, easing the lump of anxiety I'd felt rising in my chest. “Yeah uhm...I'll be right out.” I fasten my prosthetic back into place and come out, sighing softly and attempting to appear as calm as ever. Despite having no way of seeing my expression, Larry always saw right through my facade, he could read my body language like a book. “You look on edge, you sure you're alright?” I try to nod silently but make a resigned grunt instead before speaking, “Honestly, not exactly. Had a small identity crisis in the mirror again-” Larry pulls a sympathetic face and pats the spot next to him on the couch. Lisa wasn't home at the time, so we felt more comfortable being in the living area than normal, “You wanna talk about it?” I nod and take a seat. I'm not usually so open but something about Larry's presence was comforting in and of itself, allowing me to actually be trusting for once. “I made the mistake of removing my prosthetic and I got lost staring at myself again. It feels like I'm looking at a stranger, but I also don't even remember well enough what I looked like before aside from the few pictures we had of me back then. It's like the trauma wiped my ability to recognize myself.” Larry nods silently, simply listening to me without judgement or pressure. “I can't imagine how that feels, but I'm sure it's really confusing and frustrating.” “You have no idea man, it's the strangest thing.” I pause, mind suddenly going off track as I realize that my best friend has never gotten to see my face in all the time we've known each other. We drift into a comfortable silence as I continue to think, and Larry watches me in mild confusion, but waits patiently. Moments pass that feel like hours before I speak “You've never seen my face.” I blurt awkwardly, mouth running without my consent. Larry's eyes widen for a moment before returning to normal “I...yeah I haven't. I figured we'd get to that when you're comfortable. There's no rush.” “Do you want to see my face, Larry? It's not like I don't trust you at this point.” Larry blinks, seeming slightly taken aback “If you're ready to show me, I'd love to see what my best friend looks like, yes.” I bite my lip behind my prosthetic, mustering the nerve to actually go through with showing him. I remind myself that he wouldn't be like the others, he would never belittle me. “Just a second.” I turn away from him and start unfastening the straps, taking a deep breath to steel myself. “Take your time, Sal. Whenever you're ready-” I smile softly to myself, slipping my prosthetic away and placing it on the table next to the couch. “Just...don't freak out.” “Aw cmon Sal, you know better.” He was right, I did. I slowly face him, watching his expression shift through emotions as he takes in the details of my face, compassion, sadness, pain (he probably was imagining the attack as I'd described it). His gaze roves from my eyes to my mouth, where the deep pit of a scar on my left cheek reveals a hole in my face that had never healed properly, my canines exposed if you looked closely enough. His eyes then shifted to take in the rest, my poorly reconstructed nose, my taut and stretched eyelids, the teeth marks and shredded scars, traces of skin grafts covering every inch of my visage. There wasn't a trace of pity in his expression, and for that I was thankful. Then he surprised me, and smiled. “So this is the real you, Sally Face.” In my shock, I could feel myself blink back tears. Larry's brow furrows in concern immediately “What's wrong?” I laugh quietly and shake my head “These are tears of relief, Larry.” I wipe at my eyes with my sleeve, smiling at him. There was a look on his face I’d never seen before, a soft and compassionate smirk. “You have a nice smile, you know? I'm glad to know what it looks like finally.” “Oh don't patronize me now Larry, I look like one of those toddlers that's shoved their face into spaghetti-” he looks mildly offended, “I'm serious. It's a genuine and sweet smile.” I roll my eyes “If you insist, Larry Face.” I reach for my prosthetic and Larry looks disappointed “Uh, if you don't mind, could you keep it off a bit longer? I understand if not. It's just nice to see your expressions-” I stare at him, so he really was serious, wasn't he? “Sure, I suppose.” He cracks a wide smile “You know, you should let me paint you sometime. The you behind the prosthetic.” I raise an eyebrow at him quizzically “This grotesque mug?” He looks offended again, “You're too hard on yourself about it. I think you see it as worse than it is because of the things people have said to you.” Ouch. That one hit the nail on the head. “You're...probably right, but it's something I do to cope, I guess.” He nudges my side with his elbow “I guess that means I need to start loading you with compliments to make up for the damage they caused then, huh? And not just fake pity compliments either. I'm not about that, it's gotta be authentic.” “Why are you so nice to me, dude?” “I figured it’s about time someone was.” I shake my head with a small smile, leaning my head against his shoulder “That's cheesy. You're a dweeb.” “You know it, Sally Face.” _________________________________ Larry had the most fascinating expressions when he was drawing, and he had uniquely handsome features. Not in the conventional sense, he had a long pointed nose, eyebrows that were bit too thick by most people's standards, and his hair was rarely clean; yet he also had a sharp jawline and broad shoulders atop his thin frame, his skin dusted in freckles and beauty marks, including the darkest one under his right eye. To me, he was just gorgeous, and even if he never washed his hair, I wanted to tangle my fingers in it and never let go. I was always zoning out and staring at him while he was sketching something across the room, hair falling into his face. I had no idea what he was drawing, but occasionally he'd glance up at me and I would quickly avert my eyes, as if that weren't just as obvious as my gawking. Real subtle, Sal. I had realized not long after showing him my face weeks before, it was unavoidable at this point. I had a huge crush on my best friend. My best friend who was, presumably, not into guys. What a mess. Part of me wanted to tell him because I knew he wouldn't be grossed out or hate me, but there was still a chance it would change things, that we'd become distant. What if he didn't want me to stay over as much? What if he was grossed out by it but would be too nice to tell me so? What if I'm just freaking myself out over nothing? The latter is the most likely, but that doesn't make it any easier to form the words, ‘Hey man, I've been thinking about kissing you a lot lately.’ Or ‘Hey man, I’d really fucking love to fall asleep in your arms instead of just lying next to you.’ When did this attraction even start? It's not exactly shocking but damn. I sigh, the sound drowned out by the sound of ‘Singular’ by Sanity’s Fall playing loudly. I wish it could drown out my thoughts and help me think about anything else. Lately these thoughts would always flood my mind around him. It was becoming overwhelming and I knew if I couldn't figure out how to say it soon to get closure, I'd explode. I gnaw my lip and stare over at my prosthetic, lying on Larry’s dresser. Fuck it. I reach over and turn down the music, causing Larry to look up at me. “Something up? You seem like you're a million miles away right now.” “I have something to tell you. It's not easy to say either, but if I don't say it soon I'll snap.” He blinks and closes his sketchbook, giving me his undivided attention. “Go for it.” I bite my lip again and search for the words, picking at the fray in the knee of my jeans. “I hope this doesn't make anything weird, but I think I might-...” I drift off, words catching in my throat, “-no, there's no might about it, I have more than platonic feelings for you Larry. God I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable or that it doesn't change anything, and I understand if you don't feel the same at all. I just needed to get it off my chest, honestly…” I stare at my hands, afraid to look at him. The silence hangs in the air like smog, and I can hardly breathe. Just as I think I'll crumble under the tension, he speaks, “Why would that change anything or make me uncomfortable, Sal?” My gaze lifts and I finally see his face. Once again he surprises me by smiling, “You're still my best friend. Maybe I'll need time to process this new info and determine how I feel, but I promise you that it won't change anything for the worse.” And once again, I find myself blinking back tears of relief, only this time I can't hold them back. Tears roll down my cheeks and I choke out a single laugh, the sound catching in my throat from my shortness of breath. “You know Sal, you're not the only one questioning our relationship here. I haven't been sure and I'm still confused, but I-... hell I don't even know myself, really. All I know is sometimes I think things that aren't normal to think of someone who's just your friend.” I stare at him, mouth slightly agape, “Like what?” He glances away nervously and runs a hand through his hair, “Things like, wanting to hold your hand, or hug you for longer than usual...and kind of wanting to kiss you.” His voice grew so quiet near the end that I was almost convinced I’d misheard him, but no. He had really been thinking the same sort of things I had. Before I could stop myself the words left my mouth, “Me too.” We exchange a look in silence, the ten or so feet between us seeming to close in as we hold eye contact for much longer than normal. He stands slowly and sets his sketchbook aside, hands shaking ever so slightly, the only sign of his nervousness. My eyes track him as he hesitantly crosses the room before looming over me. “Can I kiss you?” He asks quietly, the words coming out as barely more than a whisper. I'd never seen him so timid. When I finally process his question my face heats and I nod, muttering softly, “Yes.” Both of us lean in slowly, each second seeming to drag on forever before our lips finally connect. The kiss is brief and innocent, lips pressed together for just a moment, yet when we withdrew from it we both were glowing red and staring at each other silently. I wonder if he can hear my heart drumming against my ribcage, but find that I don't care. We both smile sheepishly and laugh as I hide my face in my hands and he sets his hands on my shoulders gently, “For now, we'll just take our time to figure out how we feel before we rush in any further, sound alright?” I look out from behind my hands and nod, unable to stop smiling. _________________________________ I had finally agreed to let him paint me. After weeks of Larry occasionally pestering me about it, I begrudgingly decided to let him. I didn't really think I was anything worth painting, but he had told me that was just what I'd been conditioned to think of myself by the bullies. I'm now sitting with Larry in his room, relaxing on his bed as usual while he sits across from me and sketches the layout of his painting, looking between me and the page every few moments. The silence starts to bother me, so I speak, trying my best to not move, “Why is it you want to paint me so badly?” He smiles, looking down at his work, “Glad you asked. See, I think you represent a special kind of beauty.” I stare at him, expression blank, “I mean it. To me you're pretty because you're just Sal. If I must, I could even list things about you that are physically beautiful.” I snort quietly, nearly rolling my eyes but deciding against it, “Try me.” He looks up at me and meets my eyes, “Your hair is pretty and soft, your eyes are the most stunning blue, the crinkles in the corners of your eyes when you smile are precious and I can even see them when you wear your prosthetic. Before you stopped wearing it all the time that's the only way I could tell you were smiling. You have delicate hands, and a cute frame, I could keep going if you need me too-” I realize as he's speaking that my face feels warm and he laughs, “Don't look so surprised Sal. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It's all subjective. Like a work of art, and that's why I think you're a perfect subject to paint.” I stare at him wordlessly and without thinking I shift to lean over and kiss his cheek before returning to my former position. “Thank you, it means so much coming from you.” His cheeks flush ever so slightly and he returns to sketching with a smile, both of us sitting in almost silence once again as we listen to the music playing quietly from across the room. Lisa was home, so we kept it down. As if on queue when I thought of her, Lisa knocks and pokes her head into the room, glancing between us and at Larry's sketch. A soft smile crosses her lips as she speaks, “Dinner’s ready if you boys are hungry, not to interrupt your artistic flow, Hon.” “Thanks, mom.” We both answer simultaneously. She laughs and steps back out. I'd accidentally referred to her as mom once and it had just stuck. I had a sinking suspicion she knew about the recently changed nature of our relationship, but if so she didn't seem to mind at all. Larry and I had discussed how to tell her properly, but hadn't gotten around to it. “We should tell her tonight.” I say as Larry makes finishing touches on the sketch, so we could take a dinner break, “I mean, what better time to bring it up than over a meal?” He nods agreeably and closes his sketchbook, “Alright. I think we're ready for that. It's not like she'll have a problem with it. Mom’s told me about her past girlfriends from her school days.” I raise my eyebrows and smirk, “Oh?? So you're mom’s not just into guys? The more ya know, I guess.” We make our way out to the living room. We usually would eat in there over the coffee table. Somehow it made the atmosphere of meals more relaxed, and I feel my slight nerves about telling her calm down. We take our seats on the couch, each picking our plates up from the table and thanking Lisa before we start to eat. After a few minutes of small talk and silent eating, Larry clears his throat and sets his fork down, “So, Mom, I-...we have something to tell you.” She smiles knowingly but only says, “Oh? What's that?” “Sal is...kind of my boyfriend now.” Lisa smirks and chuckles to herself, “Henry owes me 10 bucks. He thought it would be a few more months before you told one of us.” I choke on a bite of chicken, laughing when I recover, “You and dad placed bets on this???” She snorts, “Sal sweetheart it's been obvious for a while now.” I resist the urge to hide my face in my hands and Larry groans, “Mom what the hell.” She laughs again before sighing happily, “In all seriousness though, I'm happy for you two and I support you to the ends of the earth. You're good for each other. Sal is one of the best additions to the family I could hope for, and if you're happy I'm happy, son.” She and Larry exchange a loving look before she turns to me, “Just take care of my boy, Sally.” I smile and nod, “I wouldn't have it any other way.”