#Balance Gold

[moth-time]

Anyway, that r/natureismetal post with the bird and the snake, right. We've all seen it. It slaps.

[junotter]

Taako literally gets to kiss death this is so unfair

[murdockhawkeye]

this is *maybe* a bit of a stretch but i still find interesting to think about? don't know if i have everything right

but

i feel like with the elemental opposite duos - emma & rikki, cleo & bella - you could reasonably say their arcs'd mirror each other in a way

like

emma and rikki have issues with responsibility/expectations but on opposite ends of the spectrum

emma was a gifted child, everyone had high expectations for her and she tried to meet those expectations the best she could. she’s responsible emma, who makes sure everyone is looked after, and everyone “knew” was going to become a top athlete, because look at all those trophies on her shelf

and then rikki on the other hand, was alone for “her own good.” she admitted to elliot that no one really liked her growing up, so when somebody did, it made her feel weird and she pushed them away. she stayed away from other people, made sure they never had any expectations of her

they both avoided disappointing others, by going to opposite extreme lengths

and then they overcame these issues, with emma facing a sudden change in her life (becoming a mermaid) that meant she had to give up her swimming dreams and disappoint the people in her life (that had to suck for her, honestly.) she had to come to terms with that - but then, she also found a whole new world that she’d never have been a part of, if things had gone the way she planned

and as for rikki - her biggest change wasn't the tail, but becoming friends with emma and cleo. had she'd her way and zane’d never gotten cleo stuck on that boat, she’d never become friends with them. rikki had to learn the hurdles of friendship and of keeping them, like when she mistook the different kinds of fish, when cleo and emma didn't support her relationship with zane, etc. they had their issues - but in the end, they were there for rikki, and rikki was there for them back. she'd have never gotten that kind of solidarity, had things gone the way she thought it would

and then there’s cleo and bella

bella - unfortunately, didn’t have much in terms of development, since the writers prioritized will’s relationship with her over expanding her character background+ for some reason ??

so i'm just mostly going to talk about cleo here first - but i'll get to bella in a second

cleo by s3 is a very confident and self-assured person; but she didn't start out that way. she was insecure, somewhat naive. she grew up overshadowed by her two best friends, the both of them being gifted in their own rights - emma, the young up and rising athlete, and lewis the science genius, they were sure to go places. cleo, on the other hand, was overlooked. she didn't have much going for her - except for adequate grades and a love of the marine life that was hindered by her fear of water

and then cleo became a *literal* mermaid. either she was going to avoid it or overcome it. in the end, she didn't just overcome her fear of water, but she also took a risk by taking that job at the marine park, where she'd be working right by the marine animals. she let her fear control her before, and she wasn't going to let it stop her from wanting to pursue things anymore

(funny, she started out with a fear of water, then became a mermaid. she struggled with her grades, then became a science genius)

bella, much like cleo - had her own issues when it came to the kind of attention she got, but the other way around. her first appearance, she was being catcalled. same ep, nate is drooling over her. they've made her beauty a point throughout s3. even cleo and rikki's brought it up. it. could not have been easy for her to deal with that, especially with her secret in mind

seeing that, even with the different issues when it came to attention, i think they'd still have had the same feelings about it. a younger bella, probably would've been similarly insecure/anxious as cleo had been - until she learned to be more sure about herself and grew into the bella we know and love today

(we should've gotten way more lore and background about bella, agh)

tldr; emma and rikki have same feelings but opposite reactions (people pleasing and people avoiding.) cleo and bella opposite situations but same feelings (overshadowed and center of attention)

yk, rikki was right in a way i think about the "universal law," but like, more about keeping in balance and not about trios. emma and rikki balance each other out, cleo and bella were *meant* to balance each other out. but in s2, bella wasn't there - charlotte was

do i blame the antagonizing of charlotte and cleo's out of characterness on the writers, or do i blame it on some magical semi-canon mermaid universal law about balance

blaming it on a mermaid universal law sounds more fun, and could have interesting implications. (though the writing grates me, still)

[cupophrogs]

Charles had a puppet show!!!!

(Evil smile)

I’m already betting that Charles use to use poppet to make Rich laugh or bug him when he wants to see his husband smile when rich was grumpy 😂

Oh absolutely, he did! Silly is as silly does.

[afewproblems]

Difficult Days Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Read on AO3

Detective Vick is not what Shawn expected. 

First of all, it's Detective Karen Vick, and second, she's much younger and softer spoken than her association with Henry would suggest. 

When she comes to collect Shawn a good twenty minutes later, she clears her throat and waits for him to acknowledge her presence. 

Her shoulder length blond hair hangs around her face in a ‘Shag’ cut that vaguely reminds him of a Friend's character, Phoebe? No that's the blonde, what the hell was her name again?

“Rachel,” Shawn says, snapping his fingers in triumph, only to realize he's spoken aloud and the Detective is starring with an amused, if slightly bewildered, expression.

She presses a hand against her chest and says, “no Mr. Spencer, Detective Vick”. 

Shawn feels his ears burn but still manages a small grin as the Detective motions for him to stand up and follow her to a small room just off the bullpen. 

The tall rookie from earlier is sitting at a desk in the far corner, he watches Shawn before looking back down at the paperwork on his desk, a small self satisfied smirk on his face.

“So,” Detective Vick says as she opens the door and steps aside to let Shawn go first, “I'm sure I don't have to tell you how this works Mr. Spencer,” 

“Uh,” he swallows and runs his now sweaty palms down his jeans as he takes in the ink pads and paper on the metal table in front of him. 

Holy shit.

Holy shit, he was going to jail.

This was real, he wasn't a minor, his fingerprints would be in the system for the rest of his life, he was going to be shipped off to the state prison, how many years would someone get for taking their neighbors car? 

Everything is slipping away from him, Anthony, his parents, his fucking future.

Shawn feels his chest stutter as he realizes he hasn't been breathing.

“I get a phone call right?” Shawn croaks out, his voice quiet enough that Detective Vick has to lean closer to hear.

She raises a single polished eyebrow, her eyes scanning Shawn’s face for a brief moment, assessing something.

Maybe it's because she's a stranger, but her stare isn't nearly as intense as his dads so Shawn meets her gaze, despite his internal panic, waiting for her to say no or brush him aside.

“Okay kid,” she says, tipping her head over to the door, “there's a phone at my desk, dial nine to call out, then come back here and we'll talk”.

Shawn nods, stepping away from the Detective and the open door and making his way over to the desk she pointed out. 

The first thing Shawn notices are the pictures among the neat piles of paperwork and files, one of the Detective receiving an award in her dress uniform, another with the Detective and a tall man who looks about her age, probably a boyfriend based on their expressions. 

The rookie from earlier clears his throat loudly across the bullpen, staring Shawn down as if to say, quit stalling.

Not that Shawn wants to spend any longer here than necessary. If by some miracle he does get to walk out of here tonight, he’ll never so much as jaywalk again.

Shawn shakes himself and reaches out for the phone, dialing the number with a practiced hand.

It rings, long and loud in his ear once before pausing briefly and ringing again. Shawn holds his breath, please, please, pick up, he thinks miserably.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice says over the line and Shawn releases a shaky breath of relief.

“Hi Mrs. Guster, can I speak to G--Burton please?”

“Shawn? Do you know what time it is?” Mrs. Guster says, her voice firm but the barest hint of concern seeps into her question.

He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly through his nose, “I know it's late, but it's important, please Mrs. Guster.”

“Okay, hold on,” she says tiredly. Shawn hears the rustle of clothing as Gus’ mom makes her way upstairs with the cordless phone, then muffled voices in the background as Mrs. Guster finally passes the phone to her son.

“Gus?”

“Shawn? Do you know what time it is? You're lucky mom even woke me up!”

“Gus stop, I-” he swallows the heavy lump that has started to form in his throat, “do you remember when T.S gets dumped by his girlfriend in that Kevin Smith movie we went to see?”

“What? You called me to talk about Mallrats? Shawn--”

“Gus, just,” he feels his voice waver as he tries to keep it light and quiet, hyper aware of the way Lassiter’s eyes keep flicking his way.

“That movie,” his voice cracks slightly and Shawn winces, curling further away from the blue eyes across the room, “it didn't really do it justice, uh, how much getting dumped sucks”.

Gus is quiet on the other end of the line but Shawn hears the sharp intake of air and suddenly he can’t stop the words from coming, falling out of his mouth like vomit. 

“You were right Gus, he uh, he's going to Princeton, can't have someone like me dragging him down, wait, maybe I'm the Brodie in this scenario,” he tries for a laugh that comes out watery and wipes his nose, “I should have listened to you”.

“Shawn--”

“And Henry knows,” he blurts out, cutting Gus off before he chickens out, “it's--it's not good Gus, I'm at the station--”

“What!” Gus exclaims, loud enough that Shawn briefly moves the receiver away from his ear, “the f-- he can't arrest you for being Bi, this isn't the 50s!” 

He hears rustling in the background, the sound of jeans and a belt buckle clinking as Gus presumably gets dressed.

Shawn feels some of the heavy weight in his chest lift and can’t quite stop the ghost of a smile from pulling at his lips. He knew he could count on Gus, he could always count on Gus.

“Could you and your mom come down?” Shawn says softly into the receiver,

“We’re on our way honey”.

“Mom!” Gus sputters and Shawn nearly drops the phone this time, he manages to catch it and bring it back to his ear just in time to hear Gus say, “you were listening?!”

Mrs. Guster sucks her teeth and Shawn can almost picture her rolling her eyes, “oh please Burton, you think I'm not going to listen when Shawn calls us in the middle of the night? I don't need a mother's intuition to know something's wrong”.

Shawn holds his breath again, as some of the anxiety from earlier creeps its way back into his spine, how long had she been listening? 

Shawn knows Mrs. Guster isn't overly fond of him after all the years of trouble-making and roping her son into his antics, garnering more calls to the Principal's office than the Gusters would have expected for their boy. 

And what if she had heard what Shawn said about Anthony, if she was listening the whole time–

“Shawn? Are you still there?” Mrs. Guster says sharply, halting the panicked spiral of thoughts before he can tumble all the way down, “don't say a word till I get there okay? We're on our way”.

“Yeah, that’s--okay,” Shawn breathes out as the wave of exhaustion that has been threatening to wash over him finally spreads down from the top of his head to his shoulders, making him slump slightly as the tension begins to bleed out of his shoulders. He hangs up the phone after another beat and releases a shaky breath, lifting his hands to press his fingers into his eyes for the second time that night.

The sound of a throat clearing behind him has Shawn lookup, slightly startled, to see Detective Vick standing behind him. The rookie is also pretending not to watch him from behind the Detective. He stands at the water dispenser, all legs and lanky arms; it's comical to see him try to be inconspicuous with a half empty paper cup, blue eyes pinched in something awful, like pity. 

Shawn wonders if he could get away with kicking the cop in the shins without adding another charge to his new rap sheet.

“You get a hold of your mom?” Detective Vick asks softly.

“Something like that,” Shawn says quietly as the Detective nods and beckons him back into the room. 

***

After a long night of taking his fingerprints and photos --where Shawn was reprimanded several times to face the correct way and to stop standing on his tiptoes at the last second to inflate his height, and finally his statement --though this was even harder for the Detective to get through without cracking just a bit after Shawn referred to Henry as, ‘what the Assistant Principal in the Breakfast Club wished he could be’.

It takes well over two hours before Shawn is released back into the main lobby. It’s still dark out thankfully but Shawn has no clue what time it is between the lack of daylight and the new wave of exhaustion that hits him in the gut as he slowly makes his way to the waiting area. 

Despite the wait in the horrible chairs in the lobby, Mrs. Guster and Gus are both there, waiting patiently for him. 

Gus launches himself off the chair faster than Shawn can say his name as he finds himself nearly tackled to the cold tiled floor.

“Don’t do that again man,” Gus says softly into Shawns shoulder as he hugs him tightly before pushing him away harshly, “it’s two in the morning, what the hell did you do that it took so long to get out? You didn’t actually murder Anthony did you, because I was hoping to get a shot in--”

“Dude!” Shawn squawks, his eyes dart to Mrs. Guster who is pointedly looking at the clock on the wall above their heads. She’s wearing a long cardigan over her pajamas and a tired expression on her face as she turns her gaze back to Shawn and her son. The periwinkle bonnet covering her hair does nothing to soften the air of annoyance following Mrs. Guster as she gives them the barest shake of her head and tells them to get in the car or start walking. 

Shawn releases a sigh of relief as Mrs. Guster herds Shawn and Gus into the little Ford Pinto, she hasn’t said a word since they left the building and seems content to listen to Gus speak for the both of them as they pull out of the department parking lot and onto the empty Santa Barbara downtown streets. 

He was expecting a lecture, or at least a stern warning to never call their home in the middle of the night like this again. But the silence is almost more terrifying as Gus begins to nod off next to Shawn in the back seat, he can’t get a good read on Mrs. Guster in her silence. Shawn picks at his thumbnail absently as he turns his head to the passenger window, startling slightly as Mrs. Guster clears her throat from the front seat.

“Shawn,” she says softly. Her eyes catch his in the rearview mirror, “I know we haven't always…” 

She breathes out and tries again, shifting her gaze back to the road, “Burton has always said you were a good boy, and we--I…”

Mrs. Guster releases another long breath and goes quiet, her brow furrowing slightly as she grips the steering wheel just a little tighter.  

Shawn holds his breath, the seat belt stretching tight across his neck like a noose as they continue down the highway. 

Then, in a voice softer than Shawn has ever heard Mrs. Guster use in more than ten years of knowing her, she says his name and holds his gaze in the rearview mirror once more. 

“You have a place to stay. With us…I hope you know that,” her voice is steady now but just as soft as when she said his name, “and I don’t care what that father of yours thinks, there is nothing wrong with you, do you understand?”

Shawn only manages a small nod as the lump in his throat doubles in size, erasing his voice completely. It earns him a kind smile in return from Mrs. Guster as she holds Shawn’s gaze for another beat before shifting her attention back to the dimly lit road. 

Shawn doesn't speak for the rest of the ride that night. Content to let the silence in the vehicle, punctuated by Gus's soft snores, and the soft golden light of the street lights wash over him as they make their way home.

Tag List: @adaed5 @drakkywolf @newgrangespirals @riverofrainbows (If you want to be removed or added to the tag list please let me know!)

[juulz]

I swear if I see another "you'll get cold sweetie"--

[t-u-i-t-c]

🪐saviors of the universe 🪐

[world-of-wales]

CATHERINE'S STYLE FILES - 2019

27 FEBRUARY 2019 || The Duchess of Cambridge and Prince William took part in a game of football during a visit to the National Stadium in Belfast on the first day their visit to Northern Ireland.

[whatlurksbean]

How do you remain so patient with your deviantart fandom? I'd be tearing my hair out

I love passion, and the deviantart comment section is full of that.

I get a lot of very lovely in depth comments on deviantart, and there are a lot of good discussions between people. It's just when people start arguing with each other that I feel like I gotta turn off the comments.

Also I ban transphobic freaks and bad faith commenters looking to start fights on sight, so that helps with the general vibe.

but yeah, generally i have a great time reading deviantart comments, even if I don't agree with them all, I like seeing that people are invested and thinking about the comic. It's very nice to see that something I put so much into resonates with folk on some level.

[thresholdbb]

Tuvok is all gold, so fancy

[tick-clock]

Here is my Cookie Run OC,

Gold Choco Cuff Cookie, EX-Member of the TBD

He's a bit of a nutcase and is always smiling, probably the side effects of going Time Traveling without safety goggles.

He lost his arms in one of his Time Traveling trips, the same day he forgot his goggles so he has prosthetic and brain damage, I guess

Before quitting, he had built stuff that usually makes time rifts that don't fit the safety regulations. Why isn't he fired, IDK but he fired himself to fucked off to the void and took custody of his entire Workshop with him.

[satans-knitwear]

When in doubt, tiddies out.

Treat me ~ Tip me

[tennessoui]

hm. gffa dragon rider au where all force-sensitives are born with an egg that hatches into their own dragon when the time is right, and obi-wan was accepted into the temple as a Jedi youngling even though his egg hadn’t hatched because sometimes it takes a few years before it hatches, but then the egg literally never hatches and no master wants him because he’s so angry and emotional about his dragon egg that has not hatched (though he is sure it’s because so many Jedi activities focus on dragon riding and bonding with one’s dragon and he doesn’t have one yet)

 so he is sent to the agricorps, drops out, is recruited by the sith eventually because his anger has power behind it. power and possibility.

then anakin is born and his dragon egg hatches immediately....and across the galaxy, obi-wan’s own dragon egg hatches as if it were waiting for the perfect time. its perfect match.

but anyway, obi-wan and anakin meet for the first time on the battlefield during the clone wars, having no idea who the other is....only for their dragons to imprint on one another because dragons do not care for the battles and follies of men. what does a dragon care about the galactic republic? about the Sith? it only knows that its other half is across the battlefield and it will not stand to see them injured.

is that anything.

[pasta-pardner]

a year ago today, I started my youtube channel! here's a retrospective on some of the type design I've made for my videos since then.

Check the link to see this typography animated! (+ an assortment of cowboy fanvids)

[doritofalls]

tried my old tablet at my parents' and no fucking shit i had carpal tunnel after drawing 8 hours a day on this. what the fuck was wrong with me.

[afewproblems]

Difficult Days Part Five (Psych AU)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Read on AO3

By some kind of miracle, Shawn ends up getting sentenced with community service and probation. 

If you can call Mrs. Guster talking to their neighbor and somehow convincing Mr. Clarence not to press charges a miracle, which Shawn is definitely leaning towards.

But it isn’t quite enough to get Shawn off scott free.

He still confessed to taking the car to a cop, the fact that said cop was his off-duty dad seemed to be a moot point. 

By another miracle, Mrs. Guster is also beyond hesitant to let Shawn go home after overhearing the conversation between him and  her son. 

So, Shawn moves in with the Gusters that night. 

Just for a little bit, Shawn insists, just until he figures out what to do.

With Joy away at university there’s a vacant room available just across the hall from Gus upstairs. It’s slightly larger than his old bedroom, painted a fair sky blue and covered in posters of Mario Lopez and Michael J. Fox. There are also several awards and trophies on a shelf above the bed with a fine layer of dust on them, a few for speech and debate, one or two for volleyball. Shawn remembers when Joy would have tore a verbal strip off him for so much as stepping a toe past the doorline, he snorts at the thought of her seeing him not only sleeping in her bed but snooping through her accomplishments.

Mrs. Guster tells him to ‘make himself at home’, apparently unphased by Shawn’s insistence that this is temporary. It doesn’t help that he doesn’t have much to make himself home with, having gone back to his dad’s house only once to grab some extra clothes and the shoebox of money he’s managed to save up over the last few years. Money he had been saving to buy Anthony one of the last books he was missing from his encyclopedia set, not that Shawn really had to worry about that now. 

It is, however; just enough money to start seriously considering where exactly he is going to go.

They don't talk about the arrest, or the days that Shawn spends picking up trash on the side of the highway. But, without fail, Mr. Guster or Mrs. Guster are always there by the time his shift is done to pick him up.

They don't talk about Henry either.

The one time the senior Spencer called the Guster residence, it was Shawn who answered and at the sound of his dad’s voice, Shawn left the receiver off the hook and closed himself off in Gus’s room for the rest of the night. 

So they don't talk about it. 

Not that The Gusters as a group don't want to, based on the looks Mrs.Guster shoots him when she thinks he's not looking, or the way Mr.Guster holds his breath on his days to pick Shawn up from his community service.

Gus seems to be the only one who doesn't get the tactful memo from his parents.

“I think you should call your dad,” Gus tells him one night after Shawn's fourth week at the Gusters. 

Shawn stills where he is sitting at Gus's desk, and spins one of the sides of the unsolved rubik's cube in his hands to hide the slight tremor.

“And break my new streak?” Shawn manages as lightly as he can, he keeps his eyes focused on the puzzle in his hands rather than his friends face, ”I think this is the longest I've managed to go without a classic Henry lecture so I don't think so Gus”.

“Besides,” Shawn scoffs, tossing the cube suddenly up in the air and catching it deftly, “I'm sure he's ecstatic about not having to deal with me anymore, he got exactly what he wanted, who am I to ruin that for him?”

“Shawn--”

“Gus,” Shawn attempts to match Gus's tone but there’s a tightness to Shawn’s voice that he can’t hide.

Gus sighs and drops flat against his bed, the springs squeak loudly as he shifts to bring his arms up to fold them behind his head. 

He stares up at the ceiling for a beat, almost long enough for Shawn to hope his friend will drop it.

 “It's just--”

God Dammit. 

“He's your dad”.

Shawn chews on the inside of his cheek and says nothing, tossing the puzzle into the air again.

The silence in the room feels suffocating. In his periphery he can see Gus open and close his mouth again and again as though trying to find the right words to change Shawn’s mind about this. 

“Look,” Gus says eventually, “I know your mom left and that was rough”.

Oh Hell to the no. 

Because it has been nearly a year since he’s heard from his mother. Since she packed up and left Santa Barbara, left Henry.

Left Shawn.

He swallows heavily as Henry's words from the station echo again and again in his mind.

This is going to kill your mother.

Said so matter of factly, like Henry knows anything. And no, Shawn certainly doesn’t want to talk about Henry or the fact that he’s felt more at home with Gus and his parents than he has in the last decade.

“Gus,” Shawn says sharply as he puts the cube back on the desk with a little more force than necessary, “drop it”. 

Gus sits up then, his face pinched in a frown as he looks at Shawn now, “dude, you have to talk about this”.

Shawn swallows a curse and tries for a smirk, “that’s where you’re wrong Gus,” he says with a laugh, “I don’t have to talk about anything”.

“Come on--”

Shawn laughs again, cutting Gus off; this time the sound is tinged with something slightly hysterical.

“Do you know what he said to me that night,” Shawn spits out as he stands up from the desk chair, “just before he left me at the station?”

Gus sits up straighter now with wide eyes, but Shawn can’t stop now as the words just keep building in his throat.

“Henry, said that me being with Anthony was going to kill my mother, like I'm some disease, like he knows anything about what mom does or doesn't hate, he's the reason she left us, not--not…”

Shawn snaps his mouth shut, locking the words behind his teeth but he doesn't need to finish the sentence for Gus to hear the rest. 

Shawn winces at the stricken expression on his friend's face and stands up from the desk chair. 

Everything had been fine, well, it had been manageable. Hadn't it? 

If he didnt think about Henry and the look of disappointment on his face that night, about Anthony and the hole his absence had left in Shawn, about his dreams of being a detective going up in smoke. 

It was manageable, at least until Gus felt the need to poke and prod and pull at the fragile status quo that had been established.

God, he can't be in here anymore. It feels as though the oxygen has begun to slowly drain out of the small bedroom and Shawn can't breathe. 

He takes a step towards the barely shut door and wrenches it open before launching himself down the hallway and towards the stairs. 

Gus calls his name but Shawn doesn't stop, he can't. 

He only manages to come to a halt as he collides with a tall body at the bottom of the stairs. The body huffs out a startled ‘ooof’ as he bounces off, knocking a basket of folded linens to the floor.

Shawn looks up to see Mrs.Guster staring at Shawn, her brow pinched into a concerned frown. 

“Shawn honey what's wrong? You're all flushed--”

Shawn's mouth opens and closes but he can't find the words, his breath comes in short sharp gasps that leave his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. It feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin and fly apart.

“Shawn, you have to slow your breathing down or you're going to pass out,” Mrs. Guster says as she places a gentle hand on his chest, “slow, come on, Burton you just stay upstairs for a bit okay?” 

Shawn lets his gaze rise to the landing, to where Gus watches with wide worried eyes. 

He hasn't had many panic attacks in his life and only knows what they’re called after his mother painstakingly explained what had happened to him after finally being released from the trunk of his dads car when he was nine --an incident that left Shawn out of sorts for hours afterwards. 

He had passed out that time, his breaths coming far too quickly and shallowly for the oxygen to properly travel to his brain --Henry's explanation that time. It was hard to look at his dad the same way after that. 

“That's it, a little slower now,” Mrs. Guster soothes again, she has the exact same pinched expression that Gus had earlier and Shawn can't help the shame that curls in his gut for putting it there, for overreacting to nothing--

“Burton,” Mrs. Guster calls up the stairs, interrupting Shawn’s thought as his breathing slowly begins to calm, “come put away this last load and then join us in the kitchen, I think this might call for a tea”. 

Mrs. Guster moves her hand from Shawn's chest to his shoulder and pushes him gently towards the hallway leading to the kitchen.

It's clear that the kitchen is the heart of the Guster home. Whereas the Spencer kitchen has always been a utilitarian room where most dinners were made and eaten in separate rooms; the Guster’s kitchen feels alive, even when empty. 

The Gusters move in and out of the kitchen, coming together before departing like the tide every day, but always coming back to this shared spot. With a large bay window overlooking a sunny backyard, a well loved dining table with six mismatched chairs, and a huge, but well organized, dry erase calendar on the fridge filled to the brim with events and deadlines, the presence of everyone in the house lingers. 

Shawn pauses at the calendar and smiles briefly at the list of names in Mrs. Guster’s careful cursive lettering. Each Guster family member seems to have their own marker colour to differentiate their schedules and Shawn’s eyes widen as he sees his own name written in a bright orange just below Gus. 

He feels his chest begin to tighten again and quickly looks away from the calendar before the urge to bolt takes over once more. 

Mrs. Guster bustles around the cabinets, taking out a wood box from a higher shelf in the corner and a blue teapot next to it.

She sets them down on the counter and then steps towards the stove, “here, take this,” Mrs Guster says as she hands him a silver kettle, something Shawn has only ever seen on the set of a Murder she Wrote episode, “fill it up to the line inside and then put it to boil”. 

“Mrs. Guster,” Shawn says slowly, looking from the kettle to the stove, “it's like, 91 out today…” 

She turns from the counter, her eyebrow raised just enough for Shawn to immediately dash to the sink to fill up the kettle. 

Mrs. Guster laughs quietly as she turns back to the counter, “I know not many people around here prefer tea that isn't iced and sweet to the point of indigestion”.

She takes two tea bags out of the wooden box and places them in the teapot before reaching up to another cupboard to select three mugs for them. Shawn brings the kettle to the stove and gently places it on the front left burner before cranking the heat to the highest setting. 

“But sometimes,” Mrs. Guster says, stepping past Shawn to flip the whistle down on the kettle spout, “difficult days like these need something that forces you to stop and focus on doing something for yourself”.

She guides him over to the dining table, gesturing for him to sit with one hand while she pulls out a chair for herself with the other. A throat clears at the entryway and both Shawn and Mrs. Guster turn to see Gus scuffing his foot against the baseboard. Mrs. Guster wordlessly gestures towards the mugs she left on the counter before taking a seat at the table next to Shawn. 

“That pause is important, even if it's for something as small as making a proper cup of tea,” she continues as Gus brings the mugs over and takes his own seat on the other side of Shawn. 

He looks worriedly between Shawn and his mom and the kettle on the stove which has begun to simmer. 

“I’ve taught both my kids to do this when they are having a hard time, I think it’s your turn now, okay?”

Shawn looks down at the table, picking at a hangnail on his left thumb, his blinks against the sharp sting and pressure behind his eyes, the second time this woman has tried to make him cry in the span of a month. Shawn chews the inside of his cheek and takes a deep breath through his nose, releasing it slowly until he’s sure that he’s got a handle on his emotions once more. 

“Even if I can’t stay?” Shawn whispers eventually, the words slightly strangled as he clears his throat.

Mrs. Guster is quiet for a moment that seems to stretch on for ages, he can feel Gus and his mother both watching him and raises his eyes to meet their gaze. The water in the kettle has started to boil, the steam and bubbles force the air out of the whistle in small bursts that cut through the quiet kitchen. 

No one speaks until Gus stands up abruptly to stomp over to the stove and wrench the kettle off the burner before turning off the stove top with a vicious twist of the knob. 

“Burton,” Mrs Guster says warningly as Gus pours the hot water into the teapot with his back to the table. He silently finishes adding the water before walking the kettle back to the stove to place it on one of the unused burners at the back. His movements are less sharp than they were a moment ago but his expression is pinched into a grimace as he grabs the tea pot and places it on the lazy susan in the middle of the table. 

Gus stands there for a moment, his gaze pivots between Shawn and the kitchen entrance where he emerged from just a moment ago and Shawn feels his breath stutter the longer that Gus stands there. 

“Burton,” Mrs. Guster finally snaps, pointing at the chair beside her with finality, “stop hovering and sit your ass down”.

For a second, Shawn worries that Gus might not listen, that he might simply walk away and face his mother’s ire later rather than be in the same room with him for another second, but eventually Gus sits.

Mrs. Guster nods at her son once before taking a deep breath and turning back to Shawn.

“You can stay here as long as you need, and if you don’t need to then we aren’t forcing you, just like we aren’t forcing you to do anything else you clearly aren’t ready for, right Burton?” 

Gus says nothing, crossing his arms over his chest tightly as he glares at the table. 

Mrs. Guster’s lips purse slightly but she shakes her head and continues, “we will be here when you are ready, we aren’t going anywhere, okay?”

Shawn nods as Mrs. Guster reaches out to pull his hands apart, saving his hangnail from another vicious pull, she gives it a pat and then moves to stand up. 

“I think I heard the dryer go,” she says with a pointed look at Gus, “I’ll be right back, you boys just let that tea steep a minute”.

Mrs. Guster reaches out to pat Gus’ cheek with the same gentle touch she gave Shawn’s hand as she moved past him. Gus just scowls harder and remains silent, the arms across his chest tighten even more as Mrs. Guster sighs and leaves the kitchen. 

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, Shawn was going to introduce the idea of him leaving slowly. Hell, even he hadn’t really thought the idea through until this moment. Sure, he’d been eyeing his stash of cash the last few days, but that didn’t mean he had a real plan thought out. 

And even if he had, there was only a twenty percent chance he’d bother following it. 

“Gus,” Shawn tries softly, scooching forward on his chair until he’s barely perched on the edge of it. 

Gus doesn’t look at him, lifting his eyes instead to stare at the wall. 

“Gus, come on,” Shawn says, a pleading note in his voice, “I can’t stay here, I--too much shit has happened--”

Gus scoffs, his eyes finally landing on Shawn,”no, you come on, we were helping though, you being here was helping”. 

He breathes out sharply and scrubs a hand over his face before dropping it on the table, “you have us now, mom and dad, you don’t have to leave!”

Shawn opens his mouth again to argue but Gus cuts him off by pushing away from the table, the legs scrape against the linoleum and both boys wince at the sound. 

Neither move for a beat, the only sound in the kitchen is the soft ticking of the Kit Cat clock on the far wall, the cat's eyes seem to flick between Gus and Shawn as though trying to suss out the outcome of this terrible conversation. 

Join the club buddy, Shawn thinks miserably. 

“I don’t get this at all,” Gus breathes out, shaking his head, his fingers tap a nervous beat on the table.

“I know,” Shawn says in a pained voice, his seemingly endless ability to pull words out of his ass to fill up a strange or awkward space has abandoned him.

Gus glares quietly, his body tense as though ready to jump out of his chair and leave the room at any time but eventually he sits forward, his expression serious.

“How are you even gonna get out of here,” Gus asks matter of factly, “you don’t have a car”.

Shawn nods at that, it was a good point --one that gave him the smallest sliver of hope.

“I have some money saved--”

“And you still have like twenty hours of community service left,” Gus speaks over him, holding his hand out while the other counts on his index and middle finger. 

Shawn feels the barest hint of a grin beginning to pull at his lips at the reasons. Of course Gus would have a list of contingencies ready for Shawn to worry about in a mere thirty seconds of thinking about this --more than Shawn had even considered in the last few days. 

He huffs out a laugh, “I wasn’t planning on walking out the door today you know?”

“You weren’t?” Gus says in a small soft voice, and Shawn feels himself shaking his head.

“No,” he insists fiercely, “of course not”.

Gus looks at Shawn for another beat, his eyes searching his face as though trying to find even a touch of doubt there, before he stands abruptly and tugs Shawn into a firm hug.

“You better call like, every week, so we know you’re okay,” his best friend whispers into his shoulder as Shawns arms come up to return the hug. He feels another laugh bubble up out of his chest as he nods frantically. 

“Or write,” Gus continues, “or something, just, so we know you’re good…and you have to make sure you come back”.

Oh.

Shawn hadn’t thought about what would happen after, after this trip, this solo adventure, if there would even be somewhere for him to come back to. 

Of course he could count on Gus.

“I promise,” Shawn says, his voice thick as he tightens his arms around Gus even more.

“Don’t, don’t you dare,” Gus warns, his own voice wavering, “when you cry, I cry Shawn, jesus”.

Shawn barks out a wet laugh into Gus’ shoulder and presses his eyes into the collar of his best friend's shirt, “you started it,” he says, the words muffled by fabric and a bony shoulder. 

They let go, turning away from one another to discreetly wipe their faces as Mrs. Guster comes back into the kitchen with a wide smile. She looks between her boys fondly and steps past them towards the pantry where she takes out a bottle of honey. 

“That tea’s got to be well steeped by now,” she says sagely as she takes a seat at the table once more, “but I think it needed it”.

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