#idk if i wrote shawn right

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

ok this is a controversial opinion but like….. to me, henry spencer was actually not a shit father….. hear me out.

i understand that there’s a lot of subtleties that go into emotionally abusive parents, and i’m not trying to dismiss that, but honestly i just don’t see all the negativity that gets associated with him so often. also, between henry and madeleine, one parent actually seemed to be there when shawn was growing up, and it wasn’t his mother.

let’s look at shawn’s childhood. in all the flashbacks, henry was the one who volunteered at shawn’s school, who took him to movies and was around for all of his new hobbies and interests. he was the one making sure shawn did his homework and hung out with his friends and learned life lessons. granted, some of his teaching methods were not appropriate for a kid shawn’s age, so yes i can see where the criticisms come in and i agree with them. but he was so much more than his mistakes, he was the parent who cared.

when shawn grows up, yes there’s animosity between him and his father but to be quite honest, i’ve never met one person who doesn’t have unresolved daddy issues so that in itself doesn’t condemn henry in my mind. we see how much henry saved from shawn’s childhood and how much he remembers, and to me he actually does quite a bit to help shawn when he needs it. this is particularly telling in comparison to madeleine, who isn’t there to begin with and eventually we find out she really did leave her kid behind, and to me that does a lot more damage than any one thing henry did.

shawn and henry have issues, i won’t argue with that. but i really don’t think henry gets enough credit for the good he did and the way he tried when shawn got older. above all else, he was there and he was there for shawn, and that’s important. god knows it’s not everything, but it’s something.

[obsidiancreates]

Never Good Enough

(Hey so that concept I posted where some kinda neurotoxin leaves Shawn unable to mask his depression anymore? Well I wrote a small segment of what that'd be like. IDK if I'll ever do a full fic so have this for now.)

“Looking at you is like looking at everything I was supposed to be, man. Head detective, follows the rules, can rattle off procedure in your sleep, when I look at you it’s like looking my Dad’s dreams for me in the face. And then you weren’t good enough for him either. You’re exactly who I should have been if I didn’t screw everything up and take everyone down with me, and you still weren’t good enough for him. And I had to realize, it doesn’t matter, it never would have mattered. I could’ve done… everything. Everything, exactly like he wanted me to, for my whole life, down to the letter, and I still… wouldn’t be good enough.” Shawn stares out the windshield, just… still. Tense. Numb.

No-one else in the car knows what to say.

“So what does it matter, man? I’m psychic, I’m not psychic, who cares. You’re what I should’ve been and couldn’t be, I’m what you shouldn’t ever be and get results you should be able to. We’re just- we’re opposites, man. But somehow we’re still friends, and I don’t even know how. I don’t know how anyone puts up with my crap enough to stick around, but I really don’t know how you do. Yeah, you say you hate me, but you don’t. I know that even if you don’t back up my theories or believe in my abilities, I can always rely on you. I know you’ll bust in at the last second before I get shot, and I know that no matter what stupid situation I get myself into you’ll end up there somehow to make sure I get out alive and mostly unharmed.”

Shawn thunks his head against his window. “Just like I know Jules will always back me up when it really matters, when I really need her to. And like I’ve known my whole life that no matter what… stupid, selfish moves I make, Gus will always be right next to me. Even when I don’t deserve to have him there. … Especially when I don’t. I never have.”

“I don’t deserve any of what I have. I’m just… dragging everyone along with my stupid games, like I’ve always done. And no matter how many cases I solve, how much I do right, I’ll never… be good enough. For any of it to make up for… me.”

“... Shawn, why do you think that?” Jule’s voice is quiet, but shattering, the silent tension in the car like glass and her words a sledgehammer thrown from a balcony.

Shawn just shrugs. Stares out the window. “The worst part is I know all of it. Still do it.”

“... You know, Spencer… Sh-Shawn. I’m… glad, that you know you can rely on me. Even if you use it as a crutch sometimes.” Lassiter can feel the ‘not the time’ glare from his partner in the backseat, but he ignores it and keeps going. “And I want you to know that I… enjoy knowing I can rely on you in turn. Maybe not to back me up, we don’t have that… dynamic. But I always know you’ll find the truth of whatever we’re working on, even if it makes you look like an idiot as well as me.”

“I just like showing off,” Shawn mumbles. 

“Well… there’s worse ways to do that than solving unsolvable cases.”

“... Sure. Whatever.”

Lassiter shares a look with Gus and Jules through the mirror. He sees equal amounts confusion and heartbreak in both of their eyes. He wishes he could say there was no trace of either in his own, but he knows that’s a lie.

“... I don’t, hate you,” Lassiter begrudgingly admits. He wants it to make Shawn smirk, brag, sing a stupid song about being right.

Shawn barely reacts. “I know,” he mumbles. “... I don’t know why, though.”

[charlieconwayy]

Just curious what you don't like about Cory/Topanga if you feel like talking about it!

hey, i don't mind!

first off i think boy meets world in the context of just a purely heterosexual show makes it age pretty poorly, and that all stems from cory and topanga. i know one of the writers said a while back that the writers room was torn between shory and corpanga, and tbh, rewatching as an adult, that's extremely evident. i'm not gonna make this post all about shory bc that's reductive but i am first and formost a shory girl and a firm believer that cory matthews is a gay man

so let's get into it.

i really really love s1/2 corpanga. idk if it's just bc ben/danielle felt more natural back then or if it's bc they actually allowed cory to be wrong and topanga to be right, but it's just so sweet. one of my all time fav ship moments from the show is the frickin sock basketball scene where they touch hands and he giggles. so adorable! but i think what really makes them suffer after s1 (and kind of s2) is just that they clearly made topanga a normal, kelly kapowski girl-next-door type to make her more "desirable" for the male audience. that could be an entire separate post, but it's so fucking obvious that that's what the change was and it sucks because topanga was great the way she was.

they're not like hatable in season 3 exactly, but the "old married couple haha look how old gross and boring they are" trope when they were legitimately sophomores was just weird? and this is a retrospect thing but i hate how the show just kept retconning shit and pretended they never broke up in season 3, as if a HUGE storyline and one of the most iconic episodes (the happiest place on earth) wasn't about them getting back together? and for me just the concept of the ~universe wanting them to be together~ over and over again is just so fucking lame when they were so toxic. (great video on this here)

they really don't do anything wrong in season 4 either, but a long walk to pittsburgh is honestly so beyond ridiculous LMAO. i know everyone talks about how romantic it is, but i hate it because topanga literally runs away and moves back to philly just for cory. i know they claim it's to finish at john adams too, but i would find that much more believable if they had developed topanga AT ALL outside of cory. we know almost nothing about her home life and they wrote trini out so we never even see any friends of hers! the trend of them fighting and talking down to amy about their love is so fucking stupid too. like you are sixteen. it is fine to love someone and want to be with someone, but amy is right that it's not healthy for them to be as obsessed with each other as they are. like cory literally doesn't know who he is outside of topanga and that's NOT healthy.

oh lordy. s5. i'm not going to get into how much i hate that shawngela (a MUCH happier, more interesting relationship) was reduced to "wanting to be corpanga" in both their intro episode and then fucking gmw, but even the "old married couple" stuff in "chasing angela" at the restaurant is so annoying. "last tango in philly" is one of my fav episodes, but it's the perfect example of how cory can never accept he's wrong. shawn tries to tell him they should stop, and he just tells shawn he knows nothing about relationships and keeps being a dick about topanga and her (obviously gay) friend. but obviously, you're here to hear about how i feel about the cheating. yes, cory cheated and he genuinely liked lauren. for the show to act like he didn't is just gaslighting their audience. and tbh? i think ben and linda cardellini had excellent chemistry (certainly more than he and danielle did at that point . . .) and i think it's completely healthy to date more than one person! it was nice seeing cory be able to open up and bond with someone else, and yes, what he did was cheating. just bc he changed his mind and decided he "couldn't live without topanga" (bless u probably queer writer for what u did w that line :') ) doesn't mean that it didn't happen. topanga had EVERY right to break up with him. it does piss me off that we barely saw topanga's reaction to the breakup when there was a whole ep dedicated to shawn's reaction (and i say that as the #1 shawn stan), but that show hated women lbfr. AND WHY TF WAS IT BAD FOR HER TO KISS JONATHAN JACKSON WHEN SHE AND CORY WERE BROKEN UP????? bc cory can't accept things not going his way and not having control. the "we are a masterpiece" scene makes me so fucking angry omg i cannot

and i mean, bro, the yale shit has been talked about to death, but topanga lawrence going to the same college as straight d-student shawn hunter has got to be the dumbest, most woman-hating shit the show ever did. love can survive long distance if you put the effort in, trust me. (yes i am aware that the show prob didn't want to separate their main couple, but s6 was almost entirely about shawn anyway so????)

then in seasons 6 and 7 we get into the "cory yelling at and publicly humiliating topanga" trend. "undapants" is iconic so i'm not gonna go into that episode (fuck you "take her back to your tornado infested trailer park" line!), but i can name at least seven occasions where cory pressures her into sex. and rider strong is right. it was extremely holier than thou how they constantly made it seemed like corpanga was better than shawngela for not fucking before marriage. like isn't there a line where they call shawngela sluts in s7? the whole honesty bit in "the truth about honesty" (admittedly one of my fav eps) is also just ridiculous bc both of them always get pissed off at the other one for being honest, even in the past. i've seen people get mad at topanga for throwing yale in cory's face but lbr, who didn't see that coming? i guess maybe it's a little weird bc she'd never been resentful about it before, but that's a HUGE thing in their relationship. and yes, it is weird that she's using his razor without his permission but again just the pressuring her to show him her ass is also fucking weird (it's also weird imo that they've been together "their whole lives" but they've only ever kissed, but again, holier than thou bullshit)

one thing i can say about how weak and uninteresting their relationship actually is is that their ENTIRE wedding episode is about shory, bc they are the much more compelling dynamic in cory's life. weirdly enough, i do actually really like cory's vows though?? on a shawn hunter stan note, oblig "that best man speech was bullshit" comment. it's completely normal and healthy to have a best friend outside of your partner? especially when you can't be honest with your partner. god i fucking hate that bullshit. just like how i hate in "seven the hard way/the war" how they portray cory abandoning his best friend/true life partner for topanga AND THEN IN FUCKING GMW THE BAD FUTURE FOR EVERYONE LITERALLY CAME TRUE!!!!!!! omg i will go insane if i think about that for longer than a few seconds.

end of post, but leaving this here

[typicalopposite]

W.I.P Wednesday

Hello Hello Hello again! And thank you to @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @onthewaytosomewhere, @adreamareads, and @meraki-yao for the tags <3

I have been chipping away at this Psych fic for a while now and I always struggle swapping between fandoms when writing so I haven't wrote much for RWRB but I still have some written for all the WIPs I have for the fandom!

So to start I'm going to share the very beginning of the psych fic!

The color blue has never meant much to Shawn and yet lately it’s all he seems to be able to think about. Blue skies, blue water, blue(berry) cars — like the one in which he’s sitting while fantasizing about a pair of blue, blue, blue eyes.  Eyes that roll angrily the moment he walks into a room. Eyes that narrow into sharp slits when he – brilliantly, impressively, sexily if he should say so himself – swoops in and solves the cases the department can’t catch a break with. Eyes that always seem to follow him around the room like a magnet unintentionally drawn to its complete polar opposite…  Shawn looks through the windshield just in time to see that Lassie — stopped on the steps of the SBPD police station — is staring at him yet again; Shawn wonders if this recent infatuation he’s been feeling is really mutual.

rwrb below the cut! TW slight mentions of homophobia and racism

going to share another snippet from the first rule of fight club, but going to give a little more backstory to it this time. While Henry and Alex are out for dinner they encounter some very hateful men who frequent the pub they are eating at, and don't like that the owner allows 'anyone' inside. One in particular lashes out on them and Henry tries to stand up for them but only pisses the guy off who follows them out as they leave and ultimately ends up -- after the man starts spewing some slurs towards Alex that strikes a nerve and causes Henry to confront him -- punching Henry (Henry doesn't want repercussions taken on man, but after a few days is furious he wasn't able to fight back as he's never had to thus doesn't really know how to).

So he decides he wants to learn how to fight so if the situation arises again, he can handle it. BAMF protective Henry am I right? And who better for him to turn to than a certain BAMF secret service agent.

This fic is really just a deeper look at a part from Zahra Deserves A Raise where she has to go get them out of jail. So ye! It has been something on my mind for a whileee lol idk why! Anyway here's the snippet!

Henry licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “I need to ask you a major favor,” he says, wringing his hands together nervously and constantly checking around him as if this is some top secret request and people might be listening. Amy waits for him to continue, looking more uneasy by the second. “I– um– I want you to teach me how to fight.”  Amy blinks. “I’m sorry, you– you what?!”  “Teach me… how to fight.”  “Teach you how to… fight?” “Yes.”  Another few blinks, then Amy sets her jaw the way she does when she’s on the clock and in protection mode. “Is this about that dipshit that punched you? Is he bothering you again? I can -- and will -- find his address.” “No!” Henry sighs, looking down at his hands, rubbing a finger over the space his signet ring used to sit. His knuckles are just about healed, as is his brow, but the bruise is still very much there. A sickly green and yellow color now; he imagines what a sight he must be. “Well,” he says after a pause. “I suppose it is about him. He just hasn’t done anything.” “Anything else,” Amy corrects, he hears her tut and looks up to see her scowling. “God if I would have been there that asshole would have been leaving there in a body cast... or a body bag.” Henry can’t help but smile; since the incident it seems everyone has been talking about what they would do if they could get their hands on that man. Amy stares at him again, then that serious stone like — still slightly confused — face slowly breaks into a smile. “Does Alex know you’re here?” “No…” Henry admits, hanging his head. “He doesn’t know I want– he would try to talk me out of it.”

there you have it! hoping I have the Psych fic done by sunday and can get back to all my RWRB fics (without starting new ones first!)

pressure tagging @scripted-downfall and leaving it open for anyone else who wants to join in! :)

[kingsofeverything]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by the lovely @haztobegood and @disgruntledkittenface. Thanks, y'all!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

115 with 2 co-writes!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

2,058,707

3. What fandoms do you write for?

One Direction, babyyyyy

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Second Hand Unwinds, Say Something, Fall At My Door, Leave Your Mark On Me, Find You Home

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I'm super behind right now because of school, but I do.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I really don't know because I write happy endings, so...... probably one of the timestamps from the Don't Want Shelter universe from before they got together called A Well-Made Mistake

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I really don't know! Like I said, I write happy endings, so I guess maybe The Second Hand Unwinds because they're both just so relieved to see each other?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

lol yes

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yeahhhhhh...... I was like what do you mean 'what kind' but idk it's pretty standard fucking imo lolllll

10. Do you write crossovers? What the craziest one you've written?

I've written a few fics for @potterdirection but I think that's it. Unless you count crossovers into the Shawn Mendes and Maggie Rogers fandoms lol

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

The only reason I even have a wattpad acct is to report stolen fics :)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

All the time! Love it! You can find my translated works here :D

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! A few years back, I begged some amazing writers to help do a round robin fic for @louandhazaf Nic's birthday, and we wrote Wine Not? and that fic brought so many amazing people into my life!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Larry, obviously.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

There are so many, but I'll always come back to my robots au that will never see the light of day. It lives on in my mind!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Idk man. I'm not good at thinking of these types of answers.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Second halfs. The rest of the story.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've only ever written Louis saying like one thing in Italian and then it was just comparing Harry's to the gates of paradise lollllll but kudos to anyone who does it. I liked the way Maggie @disgruntledkittenface did the French in Darling, so it goes.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

One Direction <3

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Hard questions!!!! I honestly can't answer this. All of my fics are special to me for one reason or another.

This was fun! Tagging literally anyone who sees this and @louandhazaf @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @londonfoginacup @jacaranda-bloom @sadaveniren @dinosaursmate @phdmama @lululawrence @absoloutenonsense

[littlemissmanga]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

Thank you my dear! And thank you to @blueink-bluesoul for also sending this ask (I'm just tagging you here so it can all be in one post).

Here we go, anything with an asterisk has 18+ content:

One Last Order* - This was my first fic after years of not writing, so it's my baby. That it features my favorite Captain is another bonus. Initially, I only had Pt 2 in my head, but I wrote out Pt 1 to justify it and give it context and I have to say I like the quality of my writing in Pt 1 more - I think I was able to get deeper into Rex's mentality and emotional state. But Pt 2 was my first attempt at spice, so it also has a special place to me. That and it highlights an older, more mature reader which isn't something that is expressly shown in fiction often.

Don't Forget That, Okay? - This was my first clone bingo square and my first real step into this community. I'm not really a Crosshair girlie, but I was watching Boy Meets World and I realized Shawn Hunter deals with vulnerability and rejection the same way Cross does. So my next thought was "how would Crosshair react to being welcomed into a happy family?" I wanted to touch on the softer side of Cross, and I always get a sense of comfort reading this one. I'm proud I was able to keep the prose simple but introspective, very like Cross.

A Mechanic in the Sun - My first Tech fic, where I learned I LOVE writing our favorite genius. His voice is easy for me to find, and that lends itself to getting me into his mindset easier. I had so much fun with this fluff and think that really comes through in the writing.

Tech & Non-Verbal Reader - This is entirely written to help myself. I was overwhelmed and stressed from a situation at work and my husband wasn't home to help me decompress after so I spiraled. When I get like that, it's like full survival mode and I find speaking incredibly difficult. My brain goes at a million miles an hour but I can't communicate, which frustrates me even more. IDK why I picked Tech as the right person to handle that situation, but immediately the thought of him - who often info dumps - understanding my communication struggles and being patient while I calmed myself down really did help settle me IRL, so I wrote it down. Immediately when I published, someone replied saying that they needed to read that and that it helped them get through something similar. For that reason, this lazy writing exercise will always have a place in my heart - it genuinely helped someone, and for that I will always be grateful.

Are You Wearing My Shirt (Wrecker)* - While I liked my first Wrecker x Reader fic a lot for the theme of healthy communication, I feel like this little drabble is where I really connected with the character as a writer for the first time, where I really got into his head and got him on the paper. As someone who LOVES this character, that made a big difference in how I respond to my own work. Also, I like how I handled the spice here :)

[psych---ologically-deranged]

psych 2x14 dis-lodged with steve franks & tim meltreger, 2 ppl, easy to understand what is going on in the commentary

"we write theme songs for each episode" I'll take your word for it wdym you are not allowed to sing on these?

I think it would be great if the show, which kind of is generally about shawn, actually has the flashbacks told from gus's journal as a kid, even if they are about shawn. Show me different eyes.

TM: If you listen closely, they are chanting kyrie eleison Me, a devout folk catholic: TM: which was my attempt to get a big 80s reference in there Me: to what? TM: Mr Mister song My deaf ass: Mister Chiffon? (People, usually americans or brits but not canadians as much & idk abt australia have this slur where they say sh instead of st) SF: But as it turns out it's not from just that TM: It's real medieval biblical latin Me, metis folk catholic: YEAH. ???? SF: I thought we had licensed that song. (if they hadn't licensed that song for use, they would get copyright claims) SF: Fortunately, this song existed somewhere else & they weren't singing it in the way it was in mr mr TM: I heard it in the many masses I had to attend as a kid, but I also heard it on the radio when mr mister was singing it Me: *catholic increases*

*henry watching gus chew shawn out for his misplaced prepositions* I could kiss gus & his love of correct grammar.

*fighting over what song henry should have in the truck* Shawn has been back for a year now, two years even, & their relationship is healing, & yet they don't want to go on a man camping trip.

Gus *steals the cup of au jus*

Original idea: Shawn & Gus would speak in handshakes exclusively by the end of the episode Me, deaf: great idea TM: I was unable to make that work on the page As it turns out it was impossible to pull off in reality, but there was a great bit where they were going to have an argument with secret handshakes but maybe later, season 4

Slap it on a biscuit

Josh Bycell on the wall! That's Tim Meltreger on the right! That's Mel Damski! Andy Berman! "Me"! I mean-- Steve Franks! Corbin Bernsen! They all got to have portraits made SF: & I say "me" with finger quotes up because that's a weird pasty strange version of me TM: You after all the blood has been removed from your body

*paintings still in the writer's office*

TM: I was aged in my portrait, now whenever I go get coffee, I come out of the kitchen area face to face with myself 35 years from now SF: It's kind of like a dickens book Or an oscar wilde book

TM: That house is where "Canadians" would "entertain dignitaries" Me, canadian: what was that cadence+diction?

*weird story starting* Me *concerned* No it's just that TM is the one who says 1 2 3 4 in the theme song

"Let me feel your forehead"

Lassie is still on three creams four sugars

Extended part: arguing over koffee klub tracking your information *big brother*

You can't handle the truth!

Gus chatting up the doctors

SF: I told Mel as a sort of way to endear him to tim that tim was a big fan of yellowbeard, just speculating that Tim had probably seen it & probably enjoyed TM: & I spent the whole dinner hoping Mel wouldn't ask me about it

ChairWOMAN meow! I love the way they fight

TIM WROTE THE WEBISODES & INTERNET BLOGS? MY MAN YOU ARE THE ONE WHO WROTE SHAWN'S JOB HISTORY? I LOVE YOU *kisses you on The mouth*

& the cartoons! My man please that stuff is Lost Media (which is true crime for chronically online antisocial nerds)

Juliet concerned for Carlton (I love it when she uses his first name. Everyone else he is Lassiter. or ig booker or binky.)

I love this lassiter story indeed

Gus vulturing all the doctors here I love it

SF: I set you up for a nice long conversation about Lassiter! TM: Oh look Gus! Gus: is pushing his pharmaceutical product. Meanwhile a dead body is five feet away. TM: Holmstrom, named after my seventh grade social studies teacher, who happened to give me detention on the second day of class because I got lost on my way there. That is NOT the reason I murdered him in this episode.

Anupam!

motorcycle be there with bells on

TM: Mr Holmstrom was a decent guy & I learned in my years as a schoolteacher that sometimes ya just got to make an example of somebody SF: To become a writer on the show, Tim quit his job as an elementary school teacher Me: typical writer TM: 13 years!

TM: I made an example of many a student, & in turn they may kill me when they grow up to become writers

"origin" of lassiter's anger sure babe

They just hang out at the psych office at night

SF: I was shocked when ou wrote the line "lassiter I love you" that Dulé actually said it TM: it remains my favourite part of the episode

TM just talking about sneaking into this creepy lodge in his hometown

Big scary lodge filled with powerful people Vancouver: Here's what we got Me: it's santa barbara, of course it's going to be this place

Holstrom the social studies teacher built his own house!?

"Hey what about me?" they ask you as soon as you start adding people in TM: I have no friends tho SF: You seem to have more friends when you start putting their names in a television show

He once removed a boil from his own thigh with nothing more than a paperclip & a warm can of sprite

what

WAIT WAS HE A MATH TEACHER? I... I would not have expected that

TM: The beauty of being a first time writer is you can get away with a lot of crap

Reading lines of the other person during a phone convo has always interested me All of juliet's lines were delivered by [TM] standing about five feet away from [TO] TM: It was a throw for me SF: I was proud of you

Juliet, grinning: You're having lunch with Shawn?

"finds his inner liar" *proud of himself for such a bad lie* *they sit for a while. Nobody says cut.* JRr/SS: This is uncomfortable

Kelly *not understanding the thumb to the nose*

William Zane Gus being charming!!!

"Sales Reptitute" I think it's reputation. Though if it was rap, then it would be rapport

"Billy!?"

*international clocks* *there is one for vancouver* *not santa barbara*

"personal forklift" He drove it for 14 days all the way to vancouver "He needed to gas up every 38 minutes" 'nono, he's green, it runs on banana peels'

South american airline codes SF: Shawn knows all information that is pertinent, but forgets key pieces of information

I feel like Gus, mr countries of the world toilet book, would know the airline codes

Shawn: I lived in an airport for a month Gus: That was Tom Hanks

"To all those who made this scene work despite my writing, I appreciate it"

SF: If you've dusted these DVDs off 25 years in the future Me: Well, maybe 15? Quick what's 2024-2007? Ok so like 17 years bro. I didn't realize Hulu was that old. It is no longer on USA network.com btw. It is on peacock actually. Help me out with the Lost Media. In fact, the shorts & webisodes & stuff should all be given on the DVDs, & there should be a box set of all the movies that I can purchase (PHYSICAL COPY) with bonus features like deleted scenes, bloopers, psych outs, old webisodes, set tours, interviews with background artists, & all that stuff. Come on! Let's keep things physical! I want a DVD that will scratch & I'll never be able to watch again, but I'd rather that than webisodes that get taken down with no backups. Make physical copies of everything!

Workshop it? Workshop it.

*Irving parker can see lassiter through the one way glass* he just hates him that much

did its not did its

*skilled portrait artist* *only gets to do lodge members* "The art department was NOT thrilled about us all getting portraits

Huge success, great skill, interesting life, reduced to apinting heads. Bitter man. SF: That's a lot of backstory for a guy who has two lines TM: I know

Oh oh the music sting & the lights

i THOUGHT IT WAS THE LODGE I didn't know it was arthur holmstrom's home at first

TM: Where is this filmed? Bretleiger? Botulism? SF: British Columbia? TM: No the town!

I have to admit, it's always weird when they mention places I've been

All those pictures are of Corbin's Mother

Yeah, I didn't get the burn joke.

The goal of this scene was to have Gus & Shawn stuffed into an impossibly small space

TM: The Martin 16 safe was named after my wife SF: Her name was 16

He did that thing with the jacket at least 30 times

I love how Gus has skills. Shawn broke into the house with a credit card I mean a screwdriver I mean it was unlocked, but Gus can get them into the safe

Shawn *guesses the gal's measurements perfectly* TM: I didn't think we were going to talk about boobs right now

That's TM's handwriting & that's the school

"We had to cut down the episode so my ear gets a cameo" Good for you mr meltreger

My man was hit by a car in this scene...

Heather, my wife

Shawn's adhd "I want to weigh/height myself-- wait no I shouldn't"

Who's killing henry? Me? Sid?

Tim's Writing Fire alarm!?

VICTORY DANCE

SF: Good shot of Tim getting to turn the car around TM: Not me tim. I was up on that hill getting hit by another car.

The magic head of gus, the wisdom of baum, & ... that stuffed creature

TM: Dr Downs was named after my optometrist, who complains whenever I get into the chair that optometrists are not represented on television in the dark crystal (movie) the dude had glasses so someone had to make him glasses

Beautiful day for them, happy for them. TM: But I'm not going to gush because we're sitting very close in this office right now

Often the villain stands there in shock, I am indeed happy to see Roger fight back

*slaps his butt*

There was an earlier version of this episode where this was happening during lassiter's indoctrination

"The only real membership that mattered was family" *his marriage still fell apart, his wife still left him, his son still hates him, his son ran away to "help [his] mother through her divorce" but who knows what happened or when that was, & he didn't speak to his son much in ten years*

SF: Besides all the intricate mysteries & the comedy, this is a show about family. & pineapples.

They have Shawn's portrait & they stole (stole?) henry's too

you're right there WERE no pineapples that I saw

The Meltones, a band by the camera crew! Richard Coleman had a migraine, poor guy, during this episode, & Tim Meltreger filled in for him on guitar that friday

I love how the camera crew has a band. TM rented a guitar up in vancouver to play with them

SF: We can't speak past this, quick say one last thing! TM, really close to the mic:

Speak to my lawyer

[bisluthq]

Maybe Taylor needs to read the room better and have better people around her too specially a better publicist

eh idk she’s so huge that no one sane who works for her would ever call her out on anything. You could be the greatest publicist in the world but if she tells you “tell them I’m straight and fuck over Shawn Mendes and girlboss the article” that’s what ur gonna do. Fwiw I think Joe did challenge some of her ideas and she said that herself with how he taught her politics right and eventually Travis might get through but idk who else could. Certainly not a paid employee like Tree. This article was super Taylor lol like I could just hear her voice and ideas coming out from the statement they wrote. Taylor doesn’t need a better publicist because that won’t fix anything because Taylor won’t listen lol, she needs to idk think about stuff a bit more.

[nixniivalis]

♦ // teach shawn how to slow dance, neraine :|

Acts of Intimacy

♦ : Slow dancing

|| @mainevcnt​​ ||

Shawn talked a lot. Words flew out of his mouth like they were going out of style. In the past ten hours since she had met him Neraine learned he was very good at talking. Standing on the sideline, running commentary as she taught six-foot-and-some-pocket-change guys a box step. She had to tell him to spit out his gum, twice. He was a fighter, a man with bloody knuckles who put his foot in other people’s faces for a living. It was a real pity he didn’t go into comedic improv, Shakespearean theater, or Broadway. He couldn’t do movies but he was born for the stage. Shawn needed a crowd. He thrived, survived off the energy of an audience. His charisma was natural, his gesture animated, and his confidence unmatchable. No shame, no fear, only a desperate need for the spotlight. However, theater required teamwork and Shawn was too competitive. He was champion, heartbreaker, the greatest of all time-- the ‘wrestling’ worked for him. Appropriate fuel for his arrogance. 

The gymnasium laid in low light. Everyone cleared-out twenty, forty minutes ago. The building otherwise empty but for a janitorial staff vacuuming the halls of the performance center. In the room over, Neraine heard the sound of weights hitting the floor. Some other soul getting their late night reps in. Celia put her hands on her hips. The shadows casted odd angles on his face. She lifted an eyebrow, waiting for Shawn to run out of steam. It took a second, all goofy grins, pure charm with golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The magic lost on her unimpressed stare. 

Shawn ran his mouth, yes, yes, he knew how to dance, he could do a box step in his sleep. What about a do-si-do? He can pole dance and he was sure to rub it in that she couldn’t. Of course, Shawn preformed all these movies, as silly, ridiculous, or raunchy as they were. Hips gyrations and flailing arms spoke of a well-coordinated man. He had body awareness and a seamless grace. He’d be an easy student if he’d shut-up. 

“Are you done?” Neraine demanded. “I don’t have all night.” 

“Yes, yes, please, go ahead,” Shawn replied, bowing to her with a flourish, gesturing for her to bestow her wisdom upon him. 

She smirked, corner of her lip upturning. Neraine offered her hand to Shawn, palm upturned. He seized it in his own and slipped his arm around her waist, yanking her close. His grin was pure cheese, teeth, lifted eyebrows, a burning smolder to melt the hearts of tasteless women the world over. Shawn spun her around into a quick-skip step and jaunted them around the gymnasium. Big smile, singing some unrhythmic song as he swept her into the lively dance. Neraine choked on laughter, mouth pressed thin and breathing out her nose hard. Neraine twisted under his arm, spinning out, slowing their movement. She put her foot down, forced Shawn to a stand still. Neraine pulled him back and he shuffled into position this time. His palm polite on her waist and her hand scooped into his. Back straight, all prim and proper. 

“Is it out of your system?” Neraine asked him. Shawn nodded, biting his lip, and Neraine could see the physical effort needed to reign in his smart remark. He was stiff through the shoulders, all hard lines and tension. The uncertain, nervousness, of a man who might be out of his depth despite talking like he was an olympic swimmer-- just a little. It’s not like she’s won professional competitions doing this. 

Neraine interlaced their fingers. Lips parted, and gaze softened, she turned to watch their hands. The intricate, delicate movements of knuckles and digits, tangled, rising, falling. Neraine hummed, vague and old tunes, light, fleeting as memories. The leitmotif of a ballet from her childhood, hidden in the corps, a little girl dressed as an egg blue fairy. Beyond the sway and twisted of their arms. Neraine stepped into him. Lead him into an undefined step, she moved him. Capturing the idea of an audience in rapt attention to a romantic ballad. The awkward wedding shuffle of people who thought they understood a waltz. All emotion to supplant their technical failure. Or, at least, Shawn staring at her like she was nuts. It was all layers, masks, games, artificially generated feelings, pure expression. 

“It’s not about moving yourself,” Neraine murmured. She wound her arm around his shoulder, resting her cheek against his collarbone. “You need to learn to move someone else.”

She parted from him, captured both of his hands. This time she guided him back into the waltz position. A comfortable, but not distant, ways apart. His hand now on her opposite hip and Neraine holding him. She stepped into Shawn off her left foot. He tripped on her toes but with gentle coaxing and some firm verbal commands she talked him into the stride. It was all reversed, backwards for him and she saw him churning his brain to flip instinct. She guided him into long steps --not too long-- and a rise-fall, with the beat she muttered beneath her breath.. Worked them into the proper clip for the dance. Pivot on your toes, be lighter, you’re stomping. 

“I thought I was supposed to lead--” Shawn protested. 

“And let you ruin my dance?” Neraine quipped in return. “I don’t think so.”

Despite this protest she lifted her hand and Shawn spun her beneath his arm. Neraine reset their position, letting him lead this time. She guided him through the flourishes, the competition winning pivots, and all the fancy tricks not necessarily in the canon. A sweep with her draped over his arm, she didn’t need to teach him the lift. Then the elegant finale, now parted he bowed to her and she curtsied like she wasn’t in yoga pants. Neraine straightened, catching her breath and rolling out her shoulders. She eyed Shawn, the air conditioner clicked on, cold air struck her dry lips. Blood stricken down his face, red, red, crimson, and coating the white ring mat. The phone screen lighting the dark back hallway like a beacon. The corporate assistant on lunch break chattering about who Neraine just talked back to. Neraine averted her gaze. 

“That’s enough for tonight,” She said, jaw setting. She passed Shawn and picked-up her bag from beside the gym door. She slung it over her shoulders and glanced back towards him, “See you tomorrow.” 

The door swung closed behind her, groaning on the hinge. Neraine’s footsteps echoed down the tile halls. A forty minute ride home on longstrips of interstates on her mind. She emerged out the back and walked around the building. Past the well-shaped shrubs and into the rear parking lot. That morning she had parked her bike beneath a cedar tree. The streetlights burned white, casting glowing circles of moths and static. Hot summer night, sweat stricken down her back as she zipped-up her jacket. Neraine mounted, hand resting on the throttle. She heaved a sigh, it’d been a long day. 

[tidethreads]

Hey! So I know you post about Shawn and—oh, like ages ago—you also posted about him being in a relationship with Zac. But then I took a hiatus from fandom so kind of missed a lot… I was wondering do you know what is happening with Shawn now—is he still in that relationship or in a relationship with someone else? Actually single? I'm having so much trouble finding anything that isn't just stunt narratives…

Hi! Oh wow yes that was a while ago, it's still unbelievable to me how he wrote and released an entire album about a relationship he was in and every detail on how it started and people did not catch on it was based on his real life even though social media corroborated and put an exact date to like half the songs.

No idea what is going on with him now, idk when you went on your fandom hiatus exactly but around the time he started publicly dating Camila it all went downhill fandom-wise and I wouldn't even say he really has a fandom left that is comparable to pre-pandemic and pre-Camila times.

There was one really awkward - and I imagine difficult - moment at his birthday party in 2019 when he made out with Camila in a really exaggerated way while his parents and friends and Zac were right there and Zac even went to the afterparty with him and his best friends, if that had been me that would have been the moment I peaced out of the relationship. Not sure what happened afterwards but that definitely seemed to have been around the turning point.

He recently cancelled almost his entire tour so I just hope he's ok, you don't make that decision lightly but I truly have zero idea what is going on in his life.

[fratboykate]

Okay okay, Will was wrong for hitting Chris there’s no denying. But I don’t agree that “it was just a joke everyone gets roasted”, he made a J.I. Jane joke when Jada just opened up about having alopecia which is a disease that affects many black women. It was wrong, she rolled her eyes and everything, he could have still made a joke about her but why her haircut specifically? Idk I do think he should have been called out, not fucking slapped but definitely called out

1) Everyone keeps saying "Jada has been open about this for years. He should've known!" I like to think I'm pretty in the know about celebrities and I had NO IDEA about this. The joke would've gone right over my head. So like...did *he* know? Who the fuck knows? Do you know everything about everyone in the industry you work on? There's contradicting versions on whether he even had rehearsed the joke. These shows have writing staffs. Just because it's a comedian presenter doesn't mean they wrote the jokes they're saying. Most of the time when they're just presenting they show up and read their lines. If it's a comedian obviously they can pitch alts and punch ups and no one would probably say no to a Chris Rock punch up but the story out there are two stories out there right now.

a) He knew the joke was there and rehearsed it on Saturday. Some diffrent people even say Will had been there on rehearsal on Saturday and had heard the joke and didn't have any issue with it. We *SEE* him laugh about it before he stands up and hit Chris. So this tracks too.

b) He never rehearsed the joke on Saturday and it was written last minute which happens OFTEN. Scripts change all the time. It came up on the prompter. When he saw it he turns and says the ad libbed "I love you Jada" we hear him say because he knew he was about to crack the joke about her and then he reads the joke he's seeing on the prompter in front of him.

To me...scenario two makes the most sense given how things played out. He was just doing what he was there to do.

2) Call him out all you want. Most people don't know presenters don't write their own bits especially when they're comedians even though it...should be obvious. Shawn Mendes didn't write or improvise a whole like two minute thing about a salad as a script. CRITICAL THINKING GUYS. Chris would've taken the fall for the joke anyway. If Will really wanted to cause a scene he could've hurled all the obscenities he wanted if he felt like it in the moment. The issue is that HE PHYSICALLY ASSAULTED CHRIS and people are trying to excuse that.

[docheros]

Egoshipmas day 13: makeovers

Pairing: Jacques/Shawn (inkycanvas)

"Not that he hated makeup, it just bothered him a little; but it was better to put on a few hours of makeup than to face his husband's fury."

Word counting: 617

A/N: idk if i used the right definition for makeovers here but yeah it exists now. also jacques uses he/they/she, so on day one i wrote her with he, on day 7 i wrote with they and now it's she turn lol

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

— Jacq? — Shawn poked his head into the room — my Jacq? Where are you?

— In the closet, darling!

The dollmaker headed into the closet, finding his husband in front of the lighted mirror and making up her face. Shawn stopped behind her, hugging her and smiling.

— This dress looks beautiful on you — he kissed her bare shoulder and Jacques smiled — by the way, have you seen my beret around?

— Shawn, we talked about the beret.

— I knoooow, I'll take it off when we take a picture… — he stopped when he noticed the painter frowning at him — Uuh, Jacq?

— Shawn, for God's sake! — she grabbed his face, pressing his cheeks with one hand — there's no way you can go like this!

— Like this what?

— With this dead face! Look at the size of your dark circles!

— Jacques, it's nothing…

— Yes, it is! Sit there on the chair and I'll pass something to hide it.

Shawn pulled out the chair and sat in front of the mirror, mumbling under his breath. Not that he hated makeup, it just bothered him a little; but it was better to put on a few hours of makeup than to face his husband's fury. After a few seconds of looking for something, Jacques turned to him with a tube in hand.

— Close your eyes because I'm going to apply it all over your face, but don't sleep!

— I don't promise anything — he shrugged, closing his eyes — your hands are so soft…

Shawn felt something pasty on his forehead, cheeks, nose and chin, then light taps. That part of spreading the foundation always tickled. Every now and then Jacques would pass again somewhere and pat around, probably covering up some missing part.

— Shawn? Are you awake Shawn?

— Yeah.

— Good — she gave him a peck — good boy. Open your eyes and look up — Shawn did, and the painter moved closer to apply the concealer. She smiled — have you ever been told that your eyes are very pretty?

— Yes, my husband tells me that every day — he chuckled, his cheeks turning pink without the help of the blush.

— You have a great husband then! Close your eyes, I'll run the concealer over your veins — Shawn closed them again — you're too white.

— And aren't you?

— At least I get some sun every morning, I'm not pale.

— Hey, I used to spend the day stuck in a factory without seeing the sunlight, one step at a time.

— Okay, okay. Let me pass the compact powder and we're finished.

Shawn then felt a powder on his face, still with the light taps. The bad thing about this part is that it always scratched his nose.

— Don't sneeze, I'm almost done — Jacques said, finishing the taps and brushing the brush, “sweeping” her husband's face — do you want eyeliner?

— No, it keeps itching in my eye.

— Ok, so just one more thing.

— But you said you were almost… — Shawn would go on, but he felt something in his head.

— Open your eyes, darling.

Shawn looked at himself in the mirror, his dark circles were gone and his hat was on his head. He smiled, looking at Jacques.

— It even looks like I'm younger — he smiled, feeling Jacques' arms go around his shoulder and her chin resting on his head — you make miracles, Jacq.

— No big deal — she shrugged, smiling — want to put on lipstick too?"

— Only if it's yours.

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

yeah on day one they were going to a party. on day 14 they're also going to a party, an even fancier one if i dare to say. it's not my fault if jacques' an influencer on the painting world 🙄✋🏻 /j

also um sorry for being late lol

tagging: @the-pastel-kitsune @glass-trash-bab @unpredictably-ghostly @dapperstein @theprinceofflies :]

[empower-bi-women]

Can you do a request about Shawn hearing his girl has a fever and freaks out because it's a real big deal (or could be) when she has a fever and has to be admitted? Just basically she has shit that makes it complicated when she gets sick and he freaks out and runs off stage and flies all the way to her and just stays with her every second? "Shawn she'll be fine" "I don't care. She needs me i'm out of here get me the next flight home NOW"

In sickness and in health 

A/N: I wrote this at like 1am cause I love this request so much! Sorry that it's so short though hopefully it lives up to your dream! As always feedback is greatly appreciated even if it's just keyboard smashing :)

Word count: 1041

Warnings: A hospital visit but nothing too graphic. Idk maybe angst if you squint? Mostly fluff though. My bad grammar probably. 

pt 2

2,518 miles. That’s how far away Shawn was from you. Ever since your lung transplant, he hated being away from you. He was so concerned and a bit confused with how to help but he was with you for every doctors appointment and check up, always making sure you were ok. He would call you every day while he was traveling to check in and make sure you’re taking your meds. 

“Hi honey!” His soft voice came through the phone. You could tell he was smiling. He was always smiling with you. 

Hey baby how’s it going?” You asked as you put your phone on speaker, moving around your kitchen. 

“It’s going a lot better now that I’m talking to you,” you smiled as he continued, “you know we finally finished that song today and it sounds so good I’m so excited to release it.” 

“That’s great how’s-” You stopped as the knife in your hand clattered to the floor, centimetres away from your feet. Your heart was racing, you could hear Shawn’s voice through the phone distantly. Your hand hadn’t stopped shaking. 

“Y/N are you ok? What happened, what was that?” You could hear the fear in his voice. 

“Yeah no I’m fine I- I just dropped a knife but I’m ok. I guess I’m just a little shaky today.”

“Honey, did you take your meds today? It’s 5pm there right? You should have taken them already.” 

No that can’t be right you thought 5pm already? Sure enough when you looked over at the clock your blurry eyes soon focused to see that he was right. 

“I maybe forgot?” You winced, knowing that he would tell you off. 

Y/N you have to remember. Didn’t you set an alarm on your phone?” 

Yeah I did but I forgot I got caught up in work. Just give me a minute, my head is starting to hurt. You put your hand to your forehead to feel it burning up. 

“Uh oh.” 

“Uh oh? What’s uh oh are you ok?”  The concern was evident in his voice. 

“Yeah probably, I’ve just got a bit of a fever it seems, and I’m feeling slightly dizzy. But it’s probably nothing. I'll be fine. I didn’t eat much today anyways so it’s most likely that.” 

“Y/N listen to me very carefully. You need to go to the hospital. Call an Uber and go, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.” 

You heard him yelling at people in the background telling them what happened. Someone dared to speak up. 

“She said she’ll be fine, you need to stay here, don’t worry about it.” 

You could feel his fury through the phone. “No! She needs me now and I’ll be there! Get me on the first flight out of here NOW! Baby I’ll be there as soon as I possibly can ok? Just hang on, you're gonna be fine.” 

You could hear his words but they sounded far away as your vision got darker and darker until you finally collapsed. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Waking up to the bright lights of the hospital room the first thing you saw was a mop of brown curls laying on your bedside. A tattooed hand held yours. Bringing it up to your lips you gave the bird a kiss. As the boy at your side stirred, yawning loudly he finally lifted his head to see your Y/C/E looking back at his. His eyes filled with relief. 

“You’re ok.” He whispered softly. 

“Yeah you said I would be. But how did I get here? I don’t remember leaving the apartment” 

He gave you a sad smile. “Well you collapsed while I was on the phone with you so I called for an ambulance and sent them to the house, I got here right after you got out of surgery, I'm so sorry I couldn't get here sooner.” 

“It’s ok, honestly you didn't need to come all this way just to sit at my bedside.” 

He squeezed your hand. “I'm always going to be by your side. No matter how far away I am, I will drop everything and come to you. Do you remember when you collapsed in New York? And I ran off stage to come with you to the hospital?” 

You nodded your head as he continued, “Well while you were lying there, unconscious, I made a promise to you. I’m in this for the long run baby. In sickness and in health I’m there no matter what. And we may be separated by distance sometimes but you'll always be in my heart no matter what,” he reached into his pocket and slid off the chair, onto one knee, “I love you with everything I am and I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up next to you everyday, and listen to you sing to yourself as you make breakfast, and watch those weird adorable faces you make as you write. I want to be there for you when you have a bad day, or you can't sleep at night cause you have a deadline, or you're just feeling sad and don't know why. I want to be there for the good stuff and the bad stuff.” 

You gasped when he opened the box, revealing a blue sapphire ring. “Now will you, Y/N Y/L, make me the happiest man in the universe and marry me?” 

“Yes of course I will!” you threw your arms around him, bringing him into a kiss. 

He pulled back to slide the ring on your finger. 

“Ok so I have to ask,” you started with a cheeky smile on your face, “Is this lady Diana’s ring?” 

He laughed loudly. “No it's just a lookalike because I know how much you love her. And all the hints you gave while we watched the crown.” 

You smacked his arm lightly. “I did no such thing.” 

He smiled. “Hey don't overexert yourself, you need to rest up cause we have to plan for a wedding.” 

[smallerinfinities]

Cake

a/n: when tipsy meets twitter, all bets are off

hello! I woke up three days ago like I’d been reborn in my love for this kid, so I wrote this filth 😅 i’ve posted a few times recently about this video but if you haven’t seen it, scroll my blog or search cake lol trust me it’s worth your time. 

(masterlist is linked in my description)

warnings: 3.9k of absolute filth

Movie night had ended hours ago, giving way to sleepy rideshares and drunken footsteps into the second bedroom. Brian was passed out and snoring in the giant armchair across from you. The Top Gun drinking game had gone wrong at around the eighth high five and completely derailed at the sixth “Iceman,” which became a salud of sorts in the room. Beer cans, mango White Claws, and the occasional tequila bottle littered the kitchen island.

“Psst, are you awake?” a toe poked your side from above. Shawn looked down at you with a cocked eyebrow from under his crooked elbow. You’d taken residence behind his legs, resting your head on his hip to watch the movie, bowing out of getting totally trashed. Your lips were still tingly enough to be dangerous.

“Yeah,” you croaked, clearing your throat and stretching, “I’m awake.”

“Are you suuure?” he slurred, tired and tipsy. The smirk was audible, “I thought I felt you drooling through my sweatpants.” His breath came out in a whoosh when you punched him in the abs with your outstretched arm.

“How’s that for awake, fucker?!” He chuckled and caught at your hand, unfisting your fingers and playing with them as he pulled out his phone. You let him. You even opened your hand fully so he could trace little patterns on your palm.

It had been like this for a few months, the flirting, the touching. A drunken night of 20-somethings playing spin the bottle had ended with multiple people clearing their throats with wide eyes as Shawn kissed you.

My God, he had kissed you. Fingers splayed against your neck, his lips gently interlocked with yours. It started out chaste, just two mouths touching, but as soon as he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, it was game over. The people, the voices, your friends, all melted away and it was just the two of you. His top lip between yours. Gentle sucking pressure. His body heat radiating onto your skin. It was everything you never knew you wanted. Until Connor clapped Shawn on the shoulder and ripped him away, turning the two of you into human embarrassed laughing emojis.

Since then, it had been like this. His hand on your lower back at the coffee shop, lazy naps together after midday movies, play fighting and fake indignation after one too many shots at the bar. Your friends all shared sideways looks and snide smirks every time you hung out but you hadn’t crossed any lines again and you definitely hadn’t talked about it. Whatever it was didn’t need conversation. It was fun. It was nothing. He was busy. He was a globally-famous popstar. You were normal. The last thing you wanted was one of those embarrassing tabloid articles, “15 Things You Need to Know About Shawn Mendes’s New Fling.” So, in the quiet moments, you let him trace patterns on your palm and send shivers down to your toes.

“Hey, come up here, I’m scrolling Twitter,” he swept his fingers down to your wrist and gave it a tug, a little giddiness in his tone. He made space for you in front of him on the couch, giving you his bicep as a pillow. You settled back against his hard chest and let your legs weave into his. He’s so goddamn warm. It was a mistake wearing jean shorts to his condo. There was a part of you that wondered if he turned the A/C down on purpose but you didn’t want to think about why.

Scrolling Twitter, where Shawn saw the most fan activity, was one of your favorite pastimes. Seeing the reactions to this dude you knew in real life was occasionally shocking, sometimes horrifying, but always amusing. He held the phone out in front of you and thumbed through his feed.

Most of his mentions were about missing him. He’d been on a break since the end of his last tour, taking some time to himself without a schedule for every minute of every day. For a guy who had been taking photos with fans pretty much everyday for the last seven years, you understood why they might be freaking out. He’d broken the pattern. Thank God for that.

You tried to keep your eyes from crossing at the repeated “I miss Shawn @shawnmendes” tweets and the feeling of his alcohol-warmed fingers against your hip. I shouldn’t want this.

“Wait!” you snapped a finger at his phone, “what was that?”

“Oh, that?” he scrolled back, “it’s just an old video.” His voice broke a couple octaves on the last bit. The tweet was accompanied by the wide-eyed blushing emoji. Curious. You raised an eyebrow and watched. He was eating a guitar-shaped cake...with his hands. Mouth wide open, his face buried over and over in thick pieces of chocolate cake with some kind of blue frosting on it. It was fucking filthy. You rubbed your thighs together absent-mindedly.

“What do the comments say?” You poked at his phone before he could move it away.

“Oh, nothing really,” his voice was still high, which meant he knew what the comments likely said. You huffed and grabbed at the phone. “Shawn, you know I have Twitter, I’ll see it whether you like it or not!” You rammed your hips backward, pausing for a second when you felt something you weren’t expecting, but not for too long. He sucked in a breath, coughing, and dropped his phone—right into your waiting hands.

“Hahaha!” You jumped up and ran to the other side of the big white couch, kicking your legs in victory, “I win!” He tripped over his own oversized limbs before he got to you, falling to the floor within reach of your feet. He reached out and pulled your legs toward him, framing his face between your thighs. Your giggles stopped short and your face flamed.

“Can you assholes get a room?!” Brian was awake and fussing at the thin fleece blanket he’d scrounged off the back of the couch. He rolled over mumbling something that sounded like just fucking fuck already but you were too busy thinking about Shawn’s head still between your legs to be bothered by it.

Shawn slowly lifted his finger to his lips in the universal sign to be quiet and untangled himself to stand. He reached out a hand and you didn’t hesitate to grab it, leading you to his bedroom down the hall. You held his phone in a death grip, unwilling to let go in case he caught you off guard.

The room was dark, save for his phone, the rectangle reflecting a solid white off the wall of glass facing the city. The CN Tower lights flickered in the late night sky, seemingly suspended in midair. His unmade  bed was the biggest and brightest thing in the room. A white comforter hung half on the floor at an odd angle off the corner of the mattress, his white sheets completely exposed. The pillows were all scrunched up at the headboard, like he’d been kicking and pushing all night long. Like he hadn’t slept soundly in weeks.

“Okay, so what you’re about to read…” he shut the door behind him, scrubbing at the back of his neck, “it’s gonna be weird, but like it’s fine I’m used to it. They’re...a little invasive.” Weird? Invasive? Curiouser and curiouser…

You walked over to his bed, picking up the comforter and tossing it haphazardly back onto the bed, and sat on the edge staring at the video and letting it play a few more times. Then you swiped down.

@canadianmendussy: ALEXA PLAY BIRTHDAY CAKE BY RIHANNAAAAA

@perfectlyru1n: oh my goD does he really go down like thAT?!

“Oh...my God,” you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, “you’ve seen this before?”

He bounced on the mattress facedown, mumbling something into the sheets.

“What was that?” you asked, with Southern sweet tea levels of sugar. You ruffled his hair, brushing through his curls. He turned his head, his face flushed with more than just alcohol.

“I said yes, I’ve seen it before…” he opened one eye and looked up at you, “I usually just ignore them.”

There were over 400 replies on this tweet, some people chiding the horny stans for posting something Shawn can see, others just piling on.

@illuminateruin: is that cake gluten-free?

@kidinlover: @illuminateruin idk but I know pussy is

@particularbenito: CAN HE EAT PUSSY LIKE THAT?!?!?!

“Can he eat pussy like that...” you read out loud under your breath, your mind conjuring up that image of his face between your thighs. Shawn’s head shot up, eyes wide.

“What???” His face was practically magenta at this point, “is that a serious question??”

“What? Uhh, no. Not serious. A reply actually,” you rushed, giving him a sideways look. I mean...maybe it was a serious question? The curiosity was going to kill you. Oh, no. No, no, no. Your lips tingled.

“Well, I mean….can you?” You could hear the glint in your eye.

Fuck it all.

“Can I….w-what?” he stuttered, the air crackling between the two of you. He looked like a cornered animal, like the wrong move would get him killed.

“Can you,” you pushed a loose curl out of his face and nodded toward his phone, “eat pussy like that?”

Oh, God, did I just…?

“I’ve never gotten any complaints,” your head popped up at his self-satisfied tone. Gone was the red-faced shy boy talking about embarrassing fans. The Shawn in front of you was...confident. Hungry. His fingers grazed your ankles resting beside him. It didn’t escape your notice. You shivered.

It wasn’t cold.

“M-maybe they were just too afraid to tell a big, famous rockstar that he sucked,” you were the one stuttering now, face heating by the second.

“Oh, sucking was definitely part of it,” his fingers traced the indent in your calf. You refused to pull away even though you should, even though part of you—a small, shrinking part—knew that if this went where it was definitely going, things were going to change. You snuck a finger under his chin to pull his gaze to yours.

“Is that a promise?”

“I don’t know,” he flashed a toothy smile, gravity and sheer force of will pulling his body toward yours, “is that an invitation?”

I’m probably gonna regret this in the morning.

Your lips crashed into his, giving him your answer. His mouth was hot, his breathing heavy. Tongues and teeth and lips wrestled together, refusing to part while he made his way above you, crawling on hands and knees between your legs as you settled against the pillows. He licked up into your mouth just before nibbling on your bottom lip, forcing a moan from deep inside you. This was primal, the need you felt with him. Like once you came together, nothing could break you apart.

His hands moved up your body, scratching gently at your exposed legs and slipping beneath your hoodie. He broke away from your lips to shuck off your top and expose all your delicate skin. His fingers slipped beneath your lace bralette and he played with the tiny clasp between your breasts.

“Is this okay?” he asked, a little out of breath, his thin t-shirt pressing against your skin.

You nodded so quickly you thought your neck might snap. He popped the clasp and spread his calloused hands across your chest. The friction was glorious. Your body chased his fingers involuntarily, bowing up off the high thread count sheets.

“Be still, baby,” he whispered, dipping his head and placing an open mouthed kiss just above your belly button. Your eyes rolled back at the pet name, another moan escaping your lips. Warmth rushed between your legs.

“Shawn,” you gasped, trying to control your breathing so he didn’t know just how fucked you were, “when I gave you an invitation, I didn’t expect you to be late to the party.” You rocked your hips up into his chest pointedly.

“Well, I can't just jump to the entrée, can I?” He fiddled with the button on your denim shorts, loosening it with a little pop. Teasing, he licked at a freckle just above your hip before sucking at it with enough force to leave a mark.

“Fuck!” Your hands shot down to his mop of curls, fingers buried in the thick locks. He pulled and nibbled at that spot over and over, all while grazing his fingers just beneath the waistband of your simple cotton cheeky panties.

When he pulled away, an angry red violet half-moon colored the skin. He took one last lick, smiling at your gasp in response.

“I love that sound,” he sat back on his heels between your legs, looking down at your heaving chest.

“I’ll make it again if you take that shirt off,” you reached for him with grabby hands, trying to Harry Potter that shit. He laughed and did the boy thing, grabbing his shirt at the back of his neck before tugging it forward off his body.

The gasp came again. Not even on purpose or because you’s promised him, but because he was so stupid gorgeous in the low light of the city you couldn’t help yourself. You’d seen him in hot tubs and at sweaty summer parties and in those fucking Calvin Klein pictures, but none of that compared to having him shirtless between your thighs just a few inches from your outstretched fingers.

His chest was flushed, some combination of adrenaline and alcohol. Little freckles dotted his lightly tanned skin all the way up his torso to the dusting of chest hair that colored his chest. His perfect pink nipples were hard against the cool air of the room, begging for you to touch or kiss or bite. Or all of the above. You reached out to trace his appendix scar where it peaked out of his low-slung sweatpants. His body danced away from you as he caught at your hand.

“Don’t,” he growled, weaving his fingers between yours and pressing his lips onto the back of your palm like a fucking Victorian gentleman. Like he wasn’t staring down at your hardening nipples thinking about how good they would feel pinched warm between his fingers. He tipped forward, bracing himself against the mattress, his mouth just a few centimeters from your skin. Dragging flesh against flesh, he left kisses at random in the valley between your breasts. Moving farther and farther down your body, he paused, sitting up on his heels.

“Are you sure?” He was breathing heavy, looking straight through you, both hands hovering around the edges of your shorts. You were nodding before he even finished his question.

He curled his fingers around all the fabric in his way, denim and cotton both, and dragged the offending pieces of clothing down your legs, lifting them off and tossing them against the wall across the room. You breathed steady, looking at him looking at you. His mouth hung open in speechless wonder.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he whispered, settling back between your thighs, a mirror of his earlier pose on the couch. Another wave of heat rushed straight to your clit, silently screaming for him.

“I know,” you brushed through his curls, giving him a suggestive grin when he looked up at you, “I taste good too.”

That was all the permission he needed. A second later, he buried his face between your legs, nudging your knees over his shoulders. His tongue swirled in circles around your clit finishing in random flicks. He moaned into you, his lips closing around your swollen folds with gently sucking pressure.

“Shit, Shawn!” you shouted, praying to the gods that everyone still in the condo was too drunk and passed out to hear you. The white sheets bunched in your fists, arms spread wide. Your thighs clamped down against his ears.

He continued his licks and flicks, snaking his hands up your legs and gently prying your legs apart. You clenched hard as he pinned your thighs to the mattress, holding you open with his forearms. Filthy sounds echoed off the walls, wet sucking, moaning from both of you. He dipped his chin and circled your entrance with his tongue, lapping at you.

“Christ!” your hands shot into his damp curls. He was working hard down there, flexing and moaning and fighting your spasms. You looked down and saw his hips impatiently rutting into the mattress. It only made you wetter, gushing onto his waiting tongue. He drank everything you gave him.

“He’s not here,” he said in a low and gravelly voice, a little breathless. He pulled back, the bottom half of his face shining in the dark. His fingers toyed with your sensitive, wet lips, watching as you twitched and trembled, so close to the edge. A firm circle around your clit had your back bowing, contorting backward off the bed. A single tear rolled down your temple.

“I’m so close,” you panted, trapping his outstretched hand against your skin.

“Shawn, I need you.”

“Need me?” His fingers paused, “need me where?”

“Oh, God, don’t stop,” you choked out, a sob threatening. Your back arched up off the sheets again to find friction. “I need...I need you inside me.”

At some point between your words and the needy moan that followed, he’d removed his sweatpants and a black pair of Calvins. You heard him rustling his hand inside the bedside table followed by the metallic sound of foil and the sharp scent of latex. Thank fuck he’s prepared.

When he dropped down onto his forearms, hovering an inch from where you needed him, you were dripping onto the sheets, grinding down into the mattress waiting desperately for him. He ran his nose over your collarbone, peppering kisses along your neck. It was slow and deliberate. A fucking tease.

“Shawn,” you pulled his face up to yours, all squished between your hands, “if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear I will…”

He pressed inside to the hilt in one swift motion, cutting off your threat.

“What are you swearing to do, princess?” he asked, a smirk and a fire in his eyes. The moan that escaped you in response was embarrassingly loud. He stilled and closed his eyes, allowing you to adjust. You took even breaths, relaxing into his hips, holding on to his shoulders for dear life. His cock was perfect. He was perfect.

I am so fucked.

He moved, slowly at first, stroking all the right places. When his hips separated from yours, pulling almost all the way out, he rutted back inside. It was deep, long thrusts touching some place inside you weren’t sure you knew was there. Your head thrashed against the pillows. Your grip on his shoulders turned sharp, clawing long red-raw marks into his pale skin.

“I’m not gonna last long,” he hissed into your ear, “fuck, you’re so tight.” His abs scraped against your body like a washboard, the tension clear in his muscles. He was wound up, ready to shatter. He crashed into you, repeatedly slapping skin against skin. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight, slow circles in contrast with the punishing rhythm of his hips. He lifted one of your legs over his hip to change the angle, to make you even tighter around him. A bead of salty-sweet sweat dropped from his chest into your mouth.

“Right...there,” you groaned, your eyes rolling back, “I’m gonna come!”

“That’s right, honey,” he grunted, flattening his fingers across your clit with intense pressure, “come for me.”

The room went white. The sound of your hips colliding was replaced with a high-pitched ring. Your world seemed to implode, your muscles moving independently. He wrapped his arms around your middle and held you as he fucked you through the waves, his weight the only thing keeping you from being swept away in the current.

“Stay here with me,” he cooed, sweet but taut in his throat. Your heart slammed against your ribs in rhythm with his hips. He grunted once, twice, three times with his final thrusts and came undone, pumping into the condom. Biting down on your shoulder to stifle his sounds, he sucked hard enough to leave an angry mark. You contracted around him, both inside and out, curling around his thighs and back and neck, letting the full weight of his completely spent body bring you back to full consciousness.

“Hey,” you fingered his frizzed and fucked curls, “Shawn?”

“Hmm?” he nuzzled into your hands and squeezed you a little tighter.

“You’re crushing me,” you exhaled, strained.

“Oh, fuck! I’m sorry!”

He shifted to his side, accidentally pulling out too quickly, making both of you wince.

“Shit, shit, I’m so sorry,” he was so cute when he was scrambling. He got up and threw out the used condom, quickly returning from the adjoining bathroom with a damp cloth.

“Come here,” he held his arms out, making a perfect you-sized place in front of him. You slid into it easily and let him press the cloth between your legs, wincing again.

“Did I hurt you?” There was so much concern in his voice.

“No, no, I just…” you held onto his arm, glad to be facing away, “I haven’t been fucked like that in awhile.”

“Glad to be of service.” You didn’t have to be looking at him to see his smug smile. Reaching back, you slapped his thigh in retaliation. He caught your hand and kissed it like a Victorian gentleman again, like it made up for his cockiness. You tried to convince yourself that it didn’t, flushing even harder than your just-fucked body should have allowed. He wrapped his arm around your front and intertwined your legs, snuggling his face into the nape of your neck.

“So, uhhh, are we gonna do this again?” he asked, barely concealing the hope in his voice.

“Shhh,” you said, yawning for effect, “we’ll talk about it in the morning. Just sleep.”

He exhaled against your back, placing one last kiss on the mark you were sure he’d left in the midst of his orgasm. You stared out into the Toronto skyline as his breathing evened, his quiet snores barely audible against the screaming voices in your head. As the light crept into the room, as morning dawned on your sleepless night, you repeated his question over and over again.

Are we gonna do this again?

There was an easy answer: yes. Yes, yes, yes, my God, yes you were going to do this again. But there was another, harder question to answer beneath it. If we do this again, will we ever be able to stop?

***

taglist: @justanotherfangurl272  @siennarossi @trustfundshawn @alone-in-madness @harryandmolly @thatindiannerdygirl @fromthicctosticcc @softmendesss @sinplisticshawn @nedthegay @september-lace @itrocksmysocks @disaster-rose @mendesoft @luvluvxx @i-play-video-games @ihearthemcallingforyou @gentleshawn @kitykatnumber @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @ijustreallylikeshawnokay @shhhawnmendes @shawnsblue @imaginashawnns @mendesficsxbombay @shawn-youth @kerwritesthings @starlightsivann @lavenderhoneymndes @begginyouformendes @fallinallincurls @shawn-youth​ @linanilssonfurberg​ @lostinshawnsmemory​ @bucky-ish​

(as always let me know if you want on/off the tag list...I realize I don’t post regularly and like half of these people could be out of the fandom lol)

[avungerthatgotaway]

I still love you kiddo, but no one likes bullies

Here I am again, the first time I'm doing the cast fic, hope it turned out good💘

And idk why I keep connection Tom and Loki with protecting from bullues, but never minddd.

Warnings: none

Pairings: none (teen x Tom not romantic)

Genre: fluff, lil bit lf angst

Summary: teen reader gets insanely embarrased by her bullies during an interview, but her co-star Tom helps her out.

Sorry for spelling mistakes

(please read text under the story)

🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯

You were currently at late late show with James Corden, along with your co-star and friend Tom Hiddleston. You were a teen actor, 15 y/o, and you were one if main avengers characters. You and Tom git invited to the show for no particular reason, people just liked your bond and tought you 2 were funny.

Tom was a great friend. You could talk to him about anything, and by that I do mean anything. Your crushes, marks at school, friends, bullies... He was the only one who knew about your bullies.

"So Y/N" James said, making you snap out of your toughts. "We've heard you draw really good. We even have some if your drawings here, as proof of your hidden talent.

As he said that, pics of your drawings started showing up on big screen. This was kinda a surprise. Crowd was of course full-on applauding you.

"Oh dear lord, where did you find thiiiis" you said, half smiling, but kinda embarrased.

"Well you can say we had to pull a few strings" James wiggled his eyebrows funnily.

Tom was admiring your artwork, even tho he knew about it.

You were about to retort to James' comment, when something unexpected came on.

It was a video, still loading, but you knew that cover all too well.

Oh no.

You couldn't believe this.

The video started playing, showing you and your class singing "Marry you" by BrunnoMars, but they were carrying you, so it was kinda obvious who was it about. You.

And then you saw the sign your friend wrote in behind. It read:

Tom + Y/N Hiddleston

As if it wasn't enough video had a title, saying "Y/N wants to marry Tom Hiddleston. Yuck."

It wasn't the point then. What actually happened is that you had an art page. And Tom reposted your drawing of him saying he likes it. It was 2 years ago, aka you weren't famous. You were barely 13. It was just fun for you and your friends. Tom was never that much if a celeb crush to you, but you and your friends were just fooling around. You don't even know how that ended up in Late Late show. James really overstepped his boundaries.

This couldn't be happening. Tom looked at you, you tought you'll see disgust, but he was mereely confused.

He gained his composure before you did tho, and began his assault on James. He was defending you because you were uncomfortable, even if he didn't know what was this about. What a gentleman, really.

"James this is overstepping all the lines. I can't believe you'd humiliate a kid this much for publicity.

"But this is not from my plan. I-it was 2 more if her drawings, and then a game." James was getting out of his shock slowly. You still sat there humiliated as you never were.

James' shock turned to anger tho. Who dares to sabotage his show. He just yelled "I want to see the cameras from the backstage, where the control for this bloody screen is!"

And cameras did show. 2 girls running behind someone, trying to hide. You could've guessed. Your bullies. You knew your current class wouldn't do it.

You collected yourself, you had to get back at them now and fast.

"Ladies and gens, this are my school bullies. Made my elementary school an utter torture, still trying to ruin my hugh school life and career." youbsaid calmly.

The crowd started boo-ing at them, and your phone was buzzing, probably your friends and co-stars.

Tom looked at you with proud eyes, you finnaly got them back. He hugged you. And then he spoke:

"I still love you kiddo, no matter this. Is cute actually. But nobody likes bullies. You should feel ashamed of yourselves. You can't go lower, and I do hope you get what you deserve one day. And that is all the worst anyone can give you."

Everyone was shocked with his words. The Tom Hiddleston, gentleman to speak like this. But he was right. And you hugged him tighter thanking him and smiling.

They always had their way to pass by, no matter what. But not this time. And you knew they were marvel fans.

You didn't cry at all. And it was great actually.

James asked you if you wanted to explain the video, so you can stand up for yourself, and you did. Shortly of course. What you said had Tom smiling, it was cute.

You still hoped the things between you 2 wouldn't go all awkward now. And you saw they didn't on the break.

James made a break to see who let them there, and fire people who allowed it, while you and Tom sat in backstage.

He hugged you and you relaxed.

"It's okay, muffin. I don't find it anything but adorable. But I want you to know that I'm extremly proud of you right now. You got them back, and didn't cry because of them, until we're alone here. You didn't give them satisfiction of watching you break. You're a strong girl. But cry yourself out if you need to hun. Shhhh." he whispered in your ear, while stroking your soft hair.

You did cry there, because no one could see you but him. You cried of emotions that welled up. Sadness, anger, humiliation, then pride and satisfiction. And Tom hugged you and kept on whispering soothing words to you.

And then you realised: things aren't getting aekward, because Tom doesn't care what others say of you. And neither should you.

🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯

I loved writing this fic, I think this is how Tom would react.

If you are dealing with bullies, feel free to talk to me, and also the last quote is meant for you then.

And my requests are opened, I'd love to see what ideas you guys have!

Thank you soo much for 50 followers🥳

[transromanticism]

alright so shawngus + the lyrics “you wrote 100 letters just for me/ and i find them in my closet in the pockets of my jeans/ now i'm constantly reminded of the time i was 19/ every single one's forgotten in a laundromat machine”

(like this is gus 5ish years after shawn left after graduation without saying anything. gus went a couple of months without hearing from him and then shawn started sending letters/postcards and he never really explained himself but just acted like everything was normal (ok maybe he apologised a bit). and gus never responded to any of them bc he was mad (going off the same theme as my other ask), and then these vibes).

okay so LMAO i was planning on writing a proper fic out of this (still might tbh who knows i sure don't) but since it has taken so long already and i feel bad for letting this ask in my inbox, here's an outline? i guess? went kinda jackwild with it but stuck to the lyrics at least so hope you like it :P

after graduation shawn just up and left. gus is left a little too shaken up, but after some days he notices how the signs were there, shawn always talking about leaving, learning other stuff, etc etc. he thinks it was kind of inevitable, you can't really stop shawn spencer, can you? doesn't mean he's not angry.

only thing gus has wrt shawn's status is whatever he talked about prior to leaving, and the little note he left at the Spencers' fridge (it said like, left and not coming back anytime soon, will keep in touch, tell gus i'm sorry). gus has no idea what shawn means by keeping in touch, but after a couple months, his parents call him about a letter from shawn addressed to gus and if they should send it to him.

it becomes a monthly? bi-weekly? thing, then: shawn sends a letter to the gusters' house in santa barbara, and they send it to gus at college. when gus goes back to sb, he either goes to his parents' house to pick up the letter, or they send it to his house.

the subject of the letter range from updates on shawn's life to miscellaneous ramblings. the first letter was an explanation and apology to gus, the awkwardness palpable in the words. the following letters still had this feeling of i wanna keep in touch, but i'm not sure i should. shawn always ended the letters with some questions on how gus was doing, first in hope he would answer, and later on just more out of routine. he would never get angry at gus for not responding, knows too well gus has every right to still be mad at him. shawn got worried gus wouldn't like his letters, especially after he inicially never got a reply, but, yknow, he never got a reply, nothing saying him to stop, and he would rather bother gus with his business then to hurt gus even more.

so! this keeps going on for the 10 years shawn's away, until he comes back (the last letter he sent said he was coming back, so it's not such a surprise to gus when he arrives at his doorstep a little out of breath bc he had to ask the gusters where gus was currently at). they don't really mention the letter, tbh. like, after some days, shawn asks gus if he ever got his letters, and when gus answers yes, shawn asks if he read then, to which gus days yes, and after a beat he days thank you and doesn't really elaborate, and shawn's not sure he has the right to pry, so he just smiles at gus and leaves the subject.

UNTIL when gus's moving, he calls shawn to help him pack and stuff (completely forgot how moving works lmao sorry), and while shawn's rummaging through gus's closet, he finds this box? chest? idk in the back of the closet, behind all this stuff, with some dust over it, all worn out at the sides, with a note on its top that reads shawn's letters. the box is clearly old, and probably needs some taken care of, but it's a sentimental thing, yknow? you don't keep something like that for so long if it doesn't hold some sentimental value to you. 

shawn doesn't open it outright, he's not a jerk, but he does hold it and just sits in the middle of the bedroom, not really sure what to do. he stays like that for so long gus starts to worry, calling for shawn until he finds him there, still a little in shock.

"those are my letter," gus nods, "the ones i sent you while i was away, those letter."

"yes, shawn, those letter."

"you kept them." shawn's starting to get teary eyed now, but he doesn't want to wet the box, god knows what salt water will do to it.

"you expected me to throw away my best friend's letters?"

"i don't know what i expected, to be honest."

it's been, what? some few years since shawn came back? anyway, their dynamic came back to what it used to be, and the feelings they had for each other just grew strong (they never went away, is the thing, it just wasn't very apparent when they weren't together all the time). yet, it's kinda awkward. new territory and stuff, yknow? they stare at each other for a while, like a while while, until gus just sits down besides shawn (who has not stopped crying btw, but is trying his hardest to not wet the box), picks the box off his hands and sets it aside, and then, very very softly, just cups shawn's face, not really cleaning his tears.

"shawn," and is gus also crying? look, goddamn sue him, it's all very emotional, "thank you" and he kisses him. not a hungry kiss, though it feels like something they both have been starving for, or a rushed kiss, because they have all the time in the world. it's soft, sweet, but reassuring, certain, this is what i want, thank you, thank you, thank you.