#real psychic Shawn Spencer

[pineapplepluto]

Henry’s hat game in the first episode. Kid Shawn is already bored of it but jumps through Henry’s hoops because he really wants a piece of cake. Adult Shawn has no patience for the hat game but Henry won’t talk to him unless he does it and says he’ll assume Shawn’s cheating if he keeps his eyes open too long. Shawn plays the game so well that, while he’s making a joke, he hears someone leaving the room. He knows from the sound of the boots that it’s the person with the cowboy hat and takes them out of the final count. Then Henry accuses him of changing the rules just because Shawn noticed something he didn’t.

If Shawn had real psychic powers and used them, Henry would’ve definitely considered that cheating. Shawn could’ve spent years learning how to astral project and Henry would still have called him lazy because he was ‘looking’ at the hats instead of memorising them.

[thats-godscomma]

Shawn: accurately predicts exactly where Carlton is behind the one-way glass

Me: that mf’s really psychic, isn’t he?

[pineapple-psychic]

real psychic shawn spencer who is technically faking the visions but only bc he talks them out with his Personal Cult of Spirits™️

there are no case-related suspects, really; all ghosts were given a choice at their death and chose to remain in the world, visible to only mediums. here are the few who follow shawn around:

first, theres the spirits of police officers, clever criminals, and criminology experts. they help him with crime details, and lets face it, narrowly avoiding being arrested

second, the Theatre Nerds. they help shawn pull off the dramatics and possess him when needed

the horror fans. theyre just there for blood ok

the ones who maybe just make innuendos and phase through him creepily

anddddd the rest of the nerds, giving shawn Weird Information he probably shouldnt know.

[corvuschronicles]

finally gonna make a post better explaining my real fake psychic shawn spencer au so this might be a long one bc in the past it was mostly rambles as i came up with ideas and trying to make them fit together

i am in the process of actually writing a fic for this and it’s looking like it may be the first part of a 3 part series, below the cut are a lot more details to give context to my au

okay! couple of important things for the overarching universe:

the supernatural exists! though the population is not as prominent as it once was, so the supernatural world learned to adapt and stay hidden, basically for every 20 claims of something supernatural only one is real, and obviously some cities have higher populations compared to others

because of the dwindling population of the supernatural and the growing population of the mundane, it is expected that both would intermingle, so it is actually a lot more common than you’d expect for people to have supernatural bloodlines, though it is often insignificant enough that it doesn’t matter. sometimes that is not the case. sometimes people are born into still active bloodlines so they grow up in that world and sometimes people never know that they even had supernatural blood, let alone that the supernatural exists. sometimes, even though someone’s bloodline may be dormant (and they are or are not aware of the supernatural) unforeseen circumstances can sort of jumpstart said bloodline

with or without knowing it, people with supernatural abilities or bloodlines tend to gravitate to each other

there are few rules that the supernatural community follows, the most important being to not expose themselves to the mundane

within the supernatural community there are different categories; creatures/those with creature blood (vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters), those with abilities (psychics, druids, witches), sentries (those tasked with keeping the supernatural hidden, and hunters (mundanes who became aware and choose to fight it)

explaining the name, real fake psychic:

when he first started working for the SBPD shawn faked being a psychic to avoid arrest

after season 4, shawn has an encounter with the supernatural that essentially gives him real psychic abilities

he keeps up his fake psychic charade because he can’t really say ‘hey guys i was faking it before but guess what? it’s real now!’

now i will go a little into some of the changes/headcanon/general facts of some characters in my au, starting with the main man

shawn:

he’s mexican! this is not central to the story really but it’s my headcanon so i will work it in because i can

somewhere down the line there is maybe some kind of long forgotten supernatural family member, meaning shawn has supernatural blood

the combination of his childhood and eidetic memory and genius is all him but it definitely gets a small push from his possible bloodline, especially in how he visualizes

after The Incident™️ shawn gets real psychic abilities, at first it’s vague and he doesn’t know what’s happening, but then things get too weird and even he can’t ignore it

true psychics are rare, a lot of people only have some aspects (like divination, clairaudience, etc) but of course, shawn ends up with more than the usual

his abilities, especially at the beginning and when they develop more, are rather painful because he is receiving so much more input now, leading to headaches at least

shawn getting real powers is the catalyst to those around him awakening as well, and now that he and the others are aware of the supernatural, it seems to be more present than they realized

gus:

he’s an amplifier

his ability is kind of a paradox, on its own it doesn’t do much because it is mostly dormant outside giving him the supersniffer, but once shawn awakens it causes a ripple effect, they are now in the supernatural world and as a result gus in turn awakens as well

he can amplify his and other’s abilities; this helps shawn because gus can help him focus on certain visions or to make sense of some things he sees, this makes shawn claim that his is now literally magic head

it is a paradox because without shawn’s powers gus’ wouldn’t have come through and gotten stronger, but he also helps shawn’s get stronger, it’s a loop

gus gets the dormant bloodline from both his parents

shawn is not the only one gus helps

juliet:

she is an empath

she is naturally an empathetic person but once she awakens it gives her more of an understanding that she never had before

juliet gets her bloodline from her mother’s side

once they all figure it out, juliet can also help shawn in a different way, as she can now feel the emotions coming through his visions

gus is able to help juliet develop her abilities more, and she develops a type of danger sense, which comes in handy in their job

her bloodline is weaker so she’s not the strongest empath, and her prolonged exposure to a shield made it harder for her abilities to develop as well

carlton

he is a nullifier

lassie’s ability is that he is essentially immune to the supernatural to a point, things like curses, jinxes, telepathy, etc do not work at all or barely affect him, most physical attacks would still work because he is still human (like poisons or tactile telepathy)

however, this also affects positive things such as blessings or good luck charms

his ability is like an aura around him, meaning that those close around him may be affected as well, such as o’hara who, as his partner, is often exposed and it put a hamper on her own abilities

shawn is also affected, but in a good way; the constant bombarding of psychic readings stop when he touches lassiter, and even just being around him can ease the headaches

this is eventual shassie

unlike the others, lassie is an anomaly, he has no actual supernatural bloodline, he is the first in his (recent) line

henry

he is a non-believing, non-aware, mundane person

he notices shawn acting stranger than usual, he also avoids coming to the house more than usual

he has his own Incident™️ in which he witnesses something that shows shawn is now telling the truth when he says he’s psychic

madeleine

is a whitexican; not exactly relevant other than the fact if goes with my mexican shawn headcanon

it is her side that had the supernatural bloodline

just like her son, if she were to awaken she would probably develop some minor abilities, most likely clairaudience

SBPD

for the most part, unaware of the supernatural

anyone born into or active in the supernatural community stays away from the police as they tend to live outside mundane laws and prefer to police their own

few key players in charge of or above the police may be aware or are a part of the community

the fact that a psychic and friends with abilities work for the police becomes controversial

chief vick is unaware but someone close to her is not

if anyone wants to add anything or simply ask questions or talk about feel free to do so! i love talking about real psychic shawn <3

[obsidiancreates]

Why Bounce Around To The Same Damn Song (Part 2)

(Part 1) (Henry's parenting gets exposed/Real Psychic Shawn/Protective Lassie Jules and Gus) (1/3)

“Uh-oh.” Shawn looks behind them as Gus pushes The Blueberry as fast as it can go within the legal parameters dictated on the highway signs. “Dude, my dad is following us.”

“So? The sun is shining and the ocean is wet.”

“Yeah, but I can see him scowling from here.”

“Again, the ocean is wet, Shawn.”

“Just, step on it, alright? We haven’t really talked much since the whole… talking with you guys thing. I think Lassie and Jules kinda let loose on him.”

“Really?”

“I had a vision of Jules telling Lassie that she wouldn’t shoot a friend’s father. I don’t think either of us really believed her.”

“Dang. … I mean, I can’t lie, I’ve wanted to give him a piece or two of my mind since then.”

“Yes, I’m very aware. And so is your great-great-great-great grandma, who keeps telling me to tell you to go for it. I kinda wish I’d never unblocked myself from ghosts.”

“It helped you solve our last case in record time.”

“No, that one was faked. Right now I can only see and hear spirits who’re either close to me or close to you.”

“Why close to me?”

“We have a cosmic connection Gus, our souls are literally tied together. If I ever die you’re following me within a week.”

“What?! I will not have my lifeforce tied to yours Shawn, you practically beg the universe to kill you every day!”

“But it won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I’m the universe’s most favorite and specialist boy.”

“You, are a grown-ass man.”

“Not to the infinite cosmos, Gus. To it, we’re all little babies, little jelly-like babies.”

“I hate not being able to tell what’s your nonsense and what’s actual supernatural knowledge you possess.”

“But it’s so much fun for me that you can’t! Oh, hang on, vision incoming.” Shawn puts his hand to his head. “You’re stopping for jerk chicken on the way home.”

“You know that’s right.”

“... With Lassie and Jules joining us.” Shawn frowns, and closes his eyes. They move rapidly under his eyelids, replaying and re-examining the vision. “And they’ve got bloody knuckles.”

“What?! What are we walking into?!”

“I-I don’t know! I can’t- it’s just a glimpse. It could just be from a case or something they just got back from.”

“But?”

“What do you mean but?”

“But, that’s your ‘I’m not convinced by my own theory’ face.”

“... The blood looks pretty fresh.”

“Shawn, if we walk into the station and it’s being held up or a criminal gets loose, I will kill you.”

“One week after me, Gus, max.”

“Tsk!”

They park, both keeping low as they tumble out of The Blueberry, just in case- until Henry stalks up behind them.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

“Crrrap.” Shawn stands up straighter and turns, plastering on an innocent smile. “Dad! Here to ah, report some of those seagulls that keep stealing your fries off the porch? Sorry to inform you but, I’m not sure Lassie arrests animals other than squirrels.”

“I’m here about that.” Henry points at Shawn, so close he’s practically pressing Shawn’s nose. “And all the other crap you’ve been pulling lately.”

Shawn’s eyes cross for a second as they take in the point. “You’ll have to be way more specific, Pops.”

“This is getting obsessive, Shawn.” Henry pulls back. “I don’t understand why you feel the need to stalk me-”

“Stalk you?”

“-or anyone else just to prove how good you are-”

“Whoa whoa, Shawn is not stalking anyone.” Gus steps forward, closer to Shawn’s side. “Especially not you.”

“Then how is he coming up with this stuff?” Henry crosses his arms. “And on your last case, you didn’t come by to see me once.”

“Because we didn’t need to,” Shawn says. “Dad, come on, I know I come to you a lot but Gus and I solve cases without your help all the time.”

“Shawn I pride myself on being able to figure out patterns in people’s behaviors.”

“Now that is a real shocker, I had absolutely no idea.”

“And the patterns you follow are the easiest ones. You get a case, you get stuck, you come to me, you solve it.”

“Not every time,” Gus defends again. “Besides, shouldn’t you be happy? We’re bothering you less and solving more cases.”

“Yeah, and I want to know how.” Henry tilts his head up, trying to look at Shawn from above like when Shawn was a child. “Because I’m starting to worry that I need to step in before you do something truly unforgivable in the name of winning.”

Shawn scoffs and looks away, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Look, Dad, I’m sorry if we made you feel left out, or-or snubbed, but I’m not stalking anyone. I’ve been honing some new skills, that’s all.”

“New skills.”

“Why do your questions never sound like questions?”

“Because it’s not a question, Shawn. What skills?”

“Awesome ones.” Shawn finally looks back to meet his father’s eyes. “So awesome that your face can’t even handle them.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Great! You don’t ask questions and I don’t give answers, we’ve got a solid dynamic here. Let’s move on before it gets stale.” Shawn turns and jogs into the station. Gus lingers a moment, looking over Henry- really looking him over, seeing him through Shawn’s perspective properly for the first time ever.

Neither of them are surprised when Henry follows them into the station.

“Dad, seriously, I’m about to land us a case,” Shawn whisper-hisses as they walk into the bullpen.

“There’s nothing on the police radio about any new cases,” Henry argues.

“I’m not using the radio.”

“So how are you so sure you’re getting a case?”

“Trusting my gut.”

“Shawn, Shawn!” Henry grabs his son by the arm and yanks, making Shawn turn to face him. “I’m being serious, kid. Whatever methods you’re using now are effective, sure, but-”

“But what, Dad, I- you don’t even know what I’m doing!” Shawn feels eyes on the three of them. Great. He lowers his voice. “I promise it’s nothing illegal.” He pauses, and tilts his head. Technically his visions could be considered an invasion of privacy, right? Does being in a room metaphysically count as trespassing? And he did use one flashback vision to get the code to a safe while Gus was busy with something else, so… “More illegal.”

“So what is it?”

Shawn looks into Henry’s eyes… and blinks. Sudden understanding washes over him, the slight irritation giving way to deeper bitterness- and hurt, but on Shawn it just makes him look… normal. Toned-down, withdrawn, normal. “This isn’t about worrying about what I’m doing. It’s just driving you nuts that you can’t figure it out.”

“Yeah, which you were hoping for anyway, with all the flaunting. Congratulations kid, you found a new way to get on my nerves. Now tell me what you’re up to. You don’t have enough money to pay people off for information, you’re barely passable in sneaking or laying low, and you’re not really psy-”

“Shawn, Gus.” Jules walks over, eyes cold as they linger on Henry. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Jules, it’s fine.” Shawn flashes her a small smile. “Pop-pop here was just begging for me to give him some of my blood for a new hair regrowth regiment. He’ll need to scrub his head with my plasma, everyday, with a follow up pineapple head mask. I was just turning him down.”

“Well, good. We need you both on the case that just came in.” Jules passes Shawn a file, now fully ignoring Henry. “A twenty-five year old but very experienced water sports champion was just found stabbed to death in the back of an abandoned community center construction site.”

Shawn flips through the file, focusing on the pictures. “Abandoned community center?”

“Project ran out of funding, and no-one bought the land after because they found out it was completely ruined with lead deposits.”

“But this report says that a new survey just cleared the land of all health risk concerns.” Gus pulls out the report in question to read it more closely. “The old one was just wrong? What?”

Shawn nods. “Things are definitely fishy, and not just because I can smell my dad from here. And uh…” Shawn’s next thought is interrupted as he hones in on the stab wound in the base of the victim’s neck, and his hand goes to his head. “I am sensing that the wound in the neck was made by a different weapon than the wounds in the chest.”

“Yeah, the neck was done with something circular, like a um, knitting needle-”

“Or pen?”

“Yeah.”

Images flash through Shawn’s mind- too quick to be helpful. He sees a struggle, he sees a blow to the throat with a fist, then with a pen- 

He narrows his eyes, playing it over again. When the attacker punches her throat, he reels back when she starts asphyxiating. His hands are shaking when he stabs the pen in.

“He was trying to save her,” he mumbles. “Jules, I think this was an accide-”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Henry snatches the file out of Shawn’s hands. “You don’t have nearly enough information to just call this an accident.”

“He had a vision, clearly.” Jule’s voice is stone-cold. “Carlton! Shawn has something for us!”

Lassiter walks up, his frown deepening. “You’re working with your dad on this?”

“No! No, he just- he followed us in here.”

“Because he’s a control freak,” Gus adds. Shawn looks at him with surprise, and Gus looks a little surprised himself at the sudden boldness. 

Lassiter just tenses his mouth and then nods to Shawn.

“I had a vision.” Shawn puts his other hand up to his head now. “The attacker is angry, but not enough to kill. No, no, I see panic! He’s using an old trick, a pen in the throat to help someone breathe, he’s trying to save her!” 

“Oh, no.” Shawn spares one glance at Henry, and sees horror. “No.”

“Dad, seriously, I’ll tell you later,” Shawn whispers, nudging Henry away a little. “I think we should start with suspects who cared about he- HEY!”

Henry drags Shawn away into a quiet corner, and Shawn notices out of the corner of his eye that Lassie’s hand twitches towards his jacket for a second. It can’t look that aggressive to someone watching, can it?

“You, are not, psychic,” Henry says firmly as soon as they’re tucked away.

“I never said I was.”

“You don’t have to. That’s what that was just now, wasn’t it? You think you’re actually psychic.”

“Can we please do this later?” Shawn keeps his voice as low as possible. “In case you missed it, I’m kind of on a case right now.” The word ‘case’ is said so quietly that it’s silent, the only sound the shifting of saliva in Shawn’s mouth.

“You’re spouting bullcrap and putting the real detectives on a bad lead,” Henry whispers back.

“Dad, you have to trust me on this!”

“What makes you think you’ve earned enough trust for me to let this happen?! You are not actually psychic, Shawn!”

“What if I was? Huh? If I was and I could prove it, would you let me get back to my job?” He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to ever do this, he wanted to just play around and confuse his dad forever-

“Prove it.” Again with the not-questions.

“Prove it, yes. Here, like this- the other day I had a vision of you sitting and watching a show you and Mom used to love and you picked up your phone to text her but deleted it all instead. How about that, does that convince you?”

“Where were you hiding?”

“Nowhere! Dad, seriously, I’ll explain right after this if you just-”

“No! No, Shawn, no, because if this is getting to your head that badly then this needs to end.”

“Wh-” Henry is stalking away back to Gus and the detectives before Shawn can fully process what he means. “Dad!” He jogs to catch up. “Dad, wait-”

“Detectives, I have something to tell you both, out of extreme concern for Shawn’s mental wellbeing.”

Gus scoffs. Jules and Lassie don’t look convinced of Henry’s intentions either. It’s enough to throw him for a second, a second long enough for Shawn to catch up.

Henry looks at Gus, then Jules, then Lassie. “What’s going on here? First I get thrown out of the station, now I’m not taken seriously when I’m worried about my own son?”

“Look Spencer,” Lassies says, looking down at Henry, “To be frank, starting something off with you being concerned about your son’s mental wellbeing isn’t exactly a convincing start.”

Shawn’s eyes widen and he starts making a slicing motion across his neck.

Henry crosses his arms. “And why is that?”

“You’ve never exactly pulled your punches when publicly lambasting him.”

“And you’ve never defended him to me before.” Henry narrows his eyes. “And Guster’s never insulted me like he did earlier.” He turns to Shawn. “What the hell did you say?”

“Nothing,” Shawn says quickly. “Nobody’s saying anything and Gus and I are leaving, and I’ll explain everything to you some other time that’s not right now!”

“No! No, you are not running away from this, tell me what you told them to make them treat me this way.”

“He told us about his training,” Jules says even as Shawn tries to motion for silence again. “And as much as we appreciate the help he’s able to provide to the department because of it, it was… unethical at best.”

“Unethical.”

Shawn tries to pull Gus away. 

“Oh come on Spencer, even I know that you can’t do all of that to a child and expect them to have all their screws tightened in place.” Lassiter crosses his arms. “At least when I memorized the Miranda Rights at seven it was because I wanted to.”

“Oh, so he told you everything.” Henry eyes Shawn. “That I trained him to be a detective and he threw it all away to be a psychic.”

“He’s a psychic and a detective,” Jules says firmly.

“No, he’s not.”

“Dad-” 

“No, this has gone too far, Shawn. Detectives Shawn is not and never has been psychic, but he’s begun believing his own lie and I’m seriously concerned about his mental state.”

[corvu-ss]

OKAY I CAN DO THINGS NOW

you mentioned that chief doesnt know about the supernaturnal, but someone close to her does? is this a character introduced in psych, or an oc?

are you still planning on writing a fic for this universe?

lassie is unintentionally blocking magic, and you said that it impacts shawn positively with like headaches and lessoning effects, but can he affect the visions negatively? like make it harder to understand?

do they know about their own abilities after it unlocks?

sorry i just love real psychic shawn !!

hello!

so technically both?? it’s a character that exists but isn’t super present so there’s no existing characterization

yes! unfortunately life is a whirlwind but i have started the fic, i just need to finish and post it (it’s gonna be a series of one shots probably)

hmmm possibly! to where i have designed lassies abilities in relation to shawn is that they are mostly touch based, especially at the beginning, so if they touch lassiter essentially blocks all of shawn’s abilities, and just being near lassie (to a certain distance) it dampens abilities to a certain degree so it would certainly make shawn’s visions harder to see them fully and understand them

not necessarily! like once they awaken they don’t just suddenly know all about it, it’s more that once they awaken and learn about it and are conscious of their own abilities, their abilities will start to grow if that makes sense?

[arc-angel-o]

Does anyone know any Real Psychic Shawn fics that take place right after Juliet finds out he's not psychic? Like he only becomes a real psychic after that? I just rewatched Right Turn Or Left For Dead, it's such Real Psychic Shawn food.

[quinn-cyd]

A journal page inspired by some talk about this crossover on the Psych discord server! The writing for this page was done by @obsidiancreates

[thespiritssaidso]

The Psychic Went Down To Gravity Falls 

Chapter one: Gus, Don’t Be Our Flight That Got Delayed

Summary: One strong storm is all it takes to keep Shawn and Gus from leaving the airport in Prineville, Oregon. Thankfully, Shawn knows just the place they can visit while they wait for it to pass. 

Notes: it was only a matter of time before I wrote a crossover between Gravity Falls and Psych. especially with the recent surge in activity thanks to the Book of Bill. 

Also the title is a play on words from ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’

And before you come at me about the airport, i haven’t been on a plane a couple years or so. I’m going off of memory right now. Please give me some slack. 

—————

Autumn of 1984, Gravity Falls, Oregon

The bell attached to the door of the diner jingled, signaling another patron entering. Outside was windy, a cool breeze blowing through the town. But inside was cozy and sparse. 

Henry leaned back just the booth across from Shawn. “Chocolate chip pancakes? Kid, you just devoured an entire plate of scrambled eggs and hash browns!” 

“But Dad! I’m still hungry!” He wasn’t actually. But the waitress — Susan. He’d seen her name tag when they came in — had walked by, carrying a plate full of steaming hot delicious pancakes. And suddenly all Shawn could think about was sinking his teeth into the soft sweet cake. 

Henry could only sigh. “Okay then. Close your eyes.” 

“Dad, seriously?”

“Do you want those pancakes or not?” 

Shawn groaned, and covered up his eyes. He hated this game. The first few times were fun, like a little challenge. But it immediately became boring after the fifth game when Henry docked points for calling a beanie a floppy hat. 

“Now, what was the waitress’s name?” 

That one was easy. “Susan.” 

“Good. What color is her eyeshadow?” 

“Her what?” 

“The colorful makeup on her eyelids.” 

It took him a bit of thinking, then- “Blue!” 

“Not bad. How many people are here?” 

This one was a little trickier. He pushed at his memory, pressing for a clearer picture of the diner just before he’d closed his eyes. A brunette with her hair in a side ponytail, an older couple wearing matching name tags labeled ‘Ma’ and ‘Pa’ (a little strange, but who was he to judge), some blond dude with a terrible mullet and sunglasses despite being indoors…

‘Come on, there’s one more guy, I know it!’ He kept pushing harder and harder until finally a crystal clear image of a man wearing a tan trench coat sitting at the bar who was turned halfway to listen in on Shawn and Henry’s conversation came up in his mind’s eye.

There. He had them all. So he began pointing them out to his dad, eyes still shut tight. “There’s a lady behind you with some weird side ponytail. That’s one. Mr. Pa and Mrs. Ma over there make three. Biker guy just went to the bathroom, so he’s number four.” He’d caught the sound of stomping biker boots walking by them and took a wild guess. “And then the weird guy sitting on the stool right next to us makes five.” 

Slow clapping came from his right. Not the demeaning kind of clap, the impressed kind. “That’s quite the trick you’ve got there.” 

Shawn looked to see who spoke and saw the man in the trench coat he’d mentioned just a few seconds ago. 

“Sure does, he’s got that eidetic memory from me. And one day he’s going to take my place and become a police officer and put those skills to good use.” 

The stranger raised his eyebrows and smiled, almost like he knew something they didn’t. “Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Stanford Pines.” ‘Stanford’ held out a hand, which Henry took in his own and shook. 

“Henry Spencer, and this is my son Shawn.” 

Shawn looked at the hand shaking his father’s and couldn’t help but exclaim, “Woah! You’ve got six fingers!” 

“Shawn-” Henry began to berate his son. 

“No no, it’s okay. He’s curious, as most kids are. I’m just glad to see that this one isn’t ridiculing me for it.” He laughed to himself. “Well, I best be off. Research waits for no one.” And he was gone, just like that. 

Without hesitation, Shawn turned back to Henry. “Can I have those pancakes now?”

———

Present

“Gusssss.” 

“What, Shawn.” 

“I’m bored.” 

“That’s the fifth time you’ve said that!” 

“I’m still bored.”

“I gave you a coloring book, use that.” 

“All I have is a pencil. I can’t color in black and white, I need to use other colors! Like red, and green, and yellow.” 

“Oh my god…” 

Shawn twisted uncomfortably in his seat. Gus and him had been sitting at the gate for their plane approximately thirty minutes, but to Shawn it had felt like hours. He slowly slid down until his head was on the back of the shitty airport chair and his back was on the seat. 

Outside through the big glass windows, the afternoon sun illuminated the planes taking off and landing. Its rays bounced off the shiny metal and glared brightly directly into Shawn’s eyes as he looked out. He didn’t feel like moving his head. 

This had been their first layover of the trip, and hopefully the only one. Shawn didn’t know if he could take any more waiting.  

The whole vacation so far had been boring. Gus had taken Shawn on a trip to visit his uncle Burton — although Gus would argue that he’d originally tried to dissuade Shawn from coming before eventually giving in to his pleas to go with Gus. They, for once, didn’t witness a murder. So that meant the whole three days were spent doing grownup stuff. Touring the local art museum, watching some boring movie at the theatre Uncle Burton wanted to see. Shawn was regretting coming with Gus. 

Gus clicked his tongue at Shawn’s immaturity. “Sit up, you look ridiculous.” 

Shawn did so. Not because Gus told him to, but because his position was starting to strain his neck. He was also starting to gather a few stares from the other people waiting, not that that really mattered to him. 

Just when he thought he couldn’t wait any longer, a flight attendant grabbed a small intercom. As she spoke, her voice echoed through speakers just above their heads. “Attention all passengers of flight AA609 at gate B19: we’re sorry to inform that this flight has been permanently delayed due to severe weather occurring all over northern California. We apologize for this inconvenience and will be compensating anyone who missed this flight with a free overnight stay at our airport hotel while you wait for the next available flight tomorrow. We’ll also be offering maps of Prineville with popular tourist locations marked for you to visit during your extended stay.”

Shawn’s felt a small shock in his brain at the mention of the city name ‘Prineville’. He ignored the feeling and moaned in disappointment at the announcement — along with other passengers — and dramatically dragged his hands down his face as Gus stood up to grab the map the flight attendant had mentioned. Great. A whole nother day of not being at the psych office and solving murders.  

“This is dumb.” Shawn immediately began to complain the moment Gus sat back down beside him. “Why can’t the airplane just go around the storm?” 

Gus didn’t look up from the map. “That’s not how it works. And I know you know that.” 

“Mnh, yeah.” 

Gus tutted as he looked at the different areas marked on the map. “Doesn’t look like there’s much to do here in Prineville. Maybe we’d be better off just renting a car and risk driving back to Santa Barbara.”

There was that shock again. Like he knew the place or something. He could practically feel old memories resurfacing. As the cogs in his brain turned automatically, Shawn sat up. “Hold on, where’d you say we were?” 

“Prineville Oregon airport-”

“Gus let me see that map.” 

“Shawn- why do you need the map?” 

He didn’t answer, instead looking intently at the small map of the city they’d found themselves in. Prineville, why did he feel like he knew this place…

Shawn scanned the map, looking for details that stuck out to him. Finally, his eyes wandered to the edge of the page and saw- “Yes! That’s why Prineville sounded familiar!”

Gus leaned over to see what his friend was seeing. “What? What is it?” 

Shawn poked at a town just off the edge of the Prineville map, written in small italicized letters. “This is where I got my third job, after I got fired from my second job as a confectioner because I kept eating all the blue raspberry hard candy.” He missed that job. His tongue was stained blue for days after he’d left Prineville and moved on to the next town. 

He continued. “Some old conman hired me as the cashier for his tourist trap.” A conman that kept lots of secrets, to be more specific. For instance: a hidden lab behind the vending machine, not to mention the many fake IDs he’d found while snooping through the tiny room in the back where the security camera monitor was kept. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. He’d found all this in the first week there. Shawn was fired, of course, but he kept coming in to work anyway. Stan never stopped him. Something about ‘liking his gumption’ or some other old-person saying. 

Shawn remembered that town very well. He’d been poring over a larger map of the counties surrounding Prineville right after he’d been fired, trying to look for any cities that sounded fun. He didn’t have to look too long, as he almost immediately found a little town called Gravity Falls — a pretty goofy name, if Shawn was being honest — just next to Prineville. It was like destiny, at the moment. His eyes had been drawn to that fine print on the map like a magnet. 

When he’d eventually made it there, his first stop was Greasy’s Diner to see if there was an opening for a server, or a cook. But he was turned down, Lazy Susan informing him that they weren’t currently looking for any new hires. Thankfully, a familiar face had overheard his conversation and introduced himself as Stanford Pines. 

At least, he had only seemed familiar at first. He looked exactly like the man he’d met when he was six, except a lot older. The only difference was that the guy from all those years ago had six fingers, something that Shawn’s impeccable memory locked in on firmly. But this guy had the normal amount of five fingers. A twin, maybe? He had to be. But if that was true, then why was he going by the same name as his brother? 

Shawn didn’t ask, simply listening to the man’s offer to give him a job as a cashier at his tourist trap: The Mystery Shack. If he got the job, he could do a lot more digging in the place it all started. 

“Tourist trap?” 

“Yeah, he’d filled it with the weirdest stuff. I think there was a stuffed beaver with a duck head stapled to its neck at one point.” As well as other, generally stranger things. Most notably the jar of fake eyeballs sitting permanently on the cashier countertop that always seemed to be looking at him.

“I’m pretty sure that violates at least three animal conservation laws.” 

“Trust me, he had weirder stuff there.” Like a huge skull that probably belonged to a t-rex sitting dejectedly in the living room. “Anyways, we can go visit Gravity Falls while we wait! They might still have that arcade full of knockoff games. The old townspeople could still be there, or at least their kids.” 

“Nuh uh, Shawn. The last time we went to a small town in the middle of nowhere, we almost got killed in a burning building! Not to mention I was probably the only black dude there. And the people were just freaky.” 

“We also had delicious cinnamon pie, if memory serves me right.” 

“That’s not the point. There is no way you’re going to convince me to visit some old town you used to work at.” 

Shawn stayed silent for a second, then an idea popped into his head. He smiled mischievously at Gus. “What if I said Gravity Falls is best known for…” he paused dramatically. “…cryptids?” 

Gus’ eyebrows slowly rose up in interest. “What kind of cryptids?”

“All kinds of ‘em! They’re all fake, especially the ones Stan has in his shop, but there’s tons of local legends! Like the Gobblewonker-” 

Gus physically recoiled at the name. “The what?!” 

“It’s their version of the Loch Ness monster. But you get the point. That’s just one of the creatures they’ve got! We can go and get first-hand stories from the people living there. Whaddya say?”

Gus went quiet, thinking to himself for a moment as he stared at the map. “Why’d you leave if this place was so cool?” 

Shawn faltered. Why did he leave? Because he didn’t want to, is why. He came and stayed and didn’t feel like leaving. Ever. And that scared him. Shawn was always on his feet, moving around and traveling wherever the winds took him. This feeling, it wasn’t like anything he’d felt before. It was deep inside of him, keeping him there and making him feel safe. If he’d stayed any longer he’d probably have become rooted into that small town, never wanting to leave, never wanting to go home. 

That first night away from Gravity Falls was almost torture. It was as if he’d somehow become addictedto living in the small town and was experiencing withdrawal. It had taken everything in him to not go rushing back.

Now that he thought about it, maybe he’d just been paranoid the whole time. It was his first year away from California, of course everything new was going to seem a little scary or strange. And besides, it had been at least 16 years (Jesus, well over a decade already? Shawn was getting old) since he left Gravity Falls. Maybe he was remembering it wrong, maybe it had just been a really nice — albeit kooky — town that he’d gotten bored of. Small relapses in his memory did in fact happen to him, as surprising as it may be. It just didn’t happen often. His mind was practically a steel trap, but even Shawn could admit that some steel traps had a flaw in them here or there. He hated it when a memory managed to find one of those little flaws.

Shawn just smiled at Gus. “I got bored. And Stan tried to get me to wear some weird man-bull costume and sit on a pedestal for tourists to look at.”

Gus scrunched his face. “That’s messed up. You sure you want to go back there?”

Did he? Sure he had fun there. Those tourists were ridiculously easy to prank and mess around with. The Mystery Shack was a testament to that. But there was something about that town that made him feel… different. Not necessarily bad different, but not a good different either. 

He looked at the map once more and viewed the spots circled in red, then over to the edge where the name Gravity Falls was written. Shawn had made up his mind. “Yeah, it’ll be fun! Now that I’m not working there we could mess with the new employees. And I know the secret trick to getting free snacks from the vending machine.”

“You had me at free snacks.” Gus grabbed his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling us a cab to take us to the nearest car rental.” 

Shawn pumped his fist in excitement. After years away from it, he was going back to Gravity Falls. And this time, Gus would be with him. What could go wrong?

—————

Notes: Disclaimer: Gravity Falls isn’t actually near Prineville. It’s not near anything, because it’s fictional. I looked at the made-up map from the show and compared it to a real one of Oregon. And then I picked a city that was closest to where Gravity Falls was. Which was Prineville. 

ao3 link

Chapter 2

[morganbritton132]

Thinking about a 911/Psych crossover but specifically about the 118 taking whatever ridiculous name Shawn gives Gus at face value and refers to him the entire time as like, Mr. Clap-yo-handz.

[soonamisapphire]

The Fabric Of The Universe Is A Little Coarse (1 Out Of 5 Stars) - ObsidianCreates - Psych (TV 2006) [Archive of Our Own]

Honestly a really cool take and story

[gayofthefae]

Saw somebody say that they weren’t getting their hopes up for much Buddie next ep because Buck would probably depend on Bobby with his trauma stuff (at least until they address the Buddie thing together later)...

but guys...

Bobby is gonna be preoccupied with the whole rehab center plotline

~ oh no! Who could Buck possibly go too?! ~ ;)

Not getting my hopes up too much...but a little. I mean, maybe we’ve gotten too used to waiting and now are glossing over the idea that they could talk immediately after because despite the parallels this isn’t just like last time because it’s the second time/role reversal. Just sayin...maybee...

[pineapple-psychic]

why didnt anyone tell me that grayscale is so fun

i cant decide which versions better so you get ALL

[pineapplepluto]

In the pilot Shawn comes to the police station expecting a commendation and reward money for the tip he called in about the stereo store robbery. He’s called in dozens of tips before but it seems doesn’t usually come to the station afterwards. 

So this specific time someone must have asked him to come down, hinting that he’d be rewarded. Clearly not Lucinda (Lassiter’s partner) because she scoffs at the idea when Shawn asks when he’s getting his money. Lassiter has taken the time to read Shawn’s file but he wouldn’t play about pretending that he’s offering a reward.

So it had to be Karen who asked him to come to the station, right? Was she planning to get his help on the McCallum kidnapping as a legit consultant? Then, when Lassiter tried to arrest him, Shawn pulls the whole psychic act as a panicky get-out-of-jail-free move. So Karen rolled with it and hired him as a psychic instead. She tells him she needs a miracle - or the facsimile of one - but really she recognises the perfect opportunity to use Shawn’s skills without having to hire him for a real job at the department.

They both know he’s scamming but she’s the interim Chief and isn’t going to let the feds get away stealing her one chance at such a high profile case. And the Spencer kid is probably going to get bored and leave town soon, so they probably won’t have to keep up this psychic charade for too long…..

[obsidiancreates]

The Fabric Of The Universe Is A Little Coarse (1 Out Of 5 Stars) [Part 2/2]

(Content warnings for seizure mentions, blood mentions, waiting in a hospital, hospital setting, Henry being an Ass even while worried sick because he literally can't help himself)

He’s drifting.

He? Maybe. Faintly, that feels right.

But so does Everything. 

All the cords.

Threads.

Events which Have Happened and Are Happening and Will Happen… it all feels right.

 He’s drifting among Everything, and it’s…

Nice.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gus wonders if Shawn is going to die.

He rides in the ambulance and it’s a good thing they have bags for vomit because everything inside of him is trying to run away every time he looks at Shawn. The rolling, unseeing eyes– everything leaves. The uncontrollable spasming and writhing– everything leaves. The blood steadily trickling out of his ears and nose– everything leaves.

Shawn leaves. Left. Is leaving? Gus isn’t sure anymore. He’s not sure if Shawn is here. He is, but he isn’t, because Shawn is never so… so…

Shawn spasms again, his head lolling as his body jerks and his empty eyes land on Gus but they don’t see him. The blood coming from his nose coats the stubble on his lip as it changes course, and the blood from his ears pools on the cot, and he isn’t there.

Gus looks away too late.

Everything leaves. 

They make him lean his head back and close his eyes, and he feels the prick of an IV being inserted. Why are they bothering with him? He’s not the one seizing and bleeding and empty empty Shawn is never Empty he’s Full full of life full of bullcrap full of ego just Full-

It won’t stop playing over and over again in Gus’s head (Is that what it’s like for Shawn every day? It’s terrible, and Gus needs Shawn to know that, he needs to be able to tell him after all this that he’s sorry Shawn has to deal with constant replays and crisp memories and uncontrollable realizations because this is terrible) as he sits there. Just sits there, stuck in a memory being useless.

The way Shawn got that slightly distant, distracted look in his eye while the girl was talking. The way Shawn almost fell into the glass and didn’t even seem to realize he’d started swaying. The way his hands started spasming first, scratching at something Gus couldn’t see or feel. 

The way Shawn just collapsed, without a shout or scream or even a gasp. Just went from standing to going down. 

The way Shawn’s body went from limp to tense. His breathing becoming sharp gasps. His hands still scratching at nothing. 

The way when Gus turned him over and knelt down to cradle Shawn’s head in his lap Shawn’s eyes never met his once, rolling uselessly and disconnected in his skull and Shawn’s eyes don’t do that.

Shawn’s eyes are sharp, focused, not always on the right thing but they’re focused. They can get distant sometimes, when he’s figuring something out or remembering something strongly, but they’re never so completely empty.

And the scratching.

Gus had been calling his name, louder and louder every time Shawn didn’t respond, didn’t blink, didn’t react at all, and Shawn’s mouth had opened but instead of words it was painful gasping like a fish held out of water or an astronaut who lost his helmet or oh god anything absurd and unreal he wishes this wasn’t real. 

And all the time Shawn’s hands never stopped scratching. 

Not when the shaking started, not when the bleeding did, not even when–

“Don’t you dare leave me Shawn! I need you, I need you, I can’t imagine my life without you in it, don’t you dare leave me alone out here it’s supposed to be us against everything not just me–”

It’s lingering on the outskirts of Gus’s racing thoughts, waiting for a chance to slip in. Shawn read his mind. Shawn read his mind. Shawn read Juliet’s, too. Shawn looked into their heads.

It’s lingering, and he knows it’s there, but he can’t let that realization sink in yet. He can’t let it sink in because Shawn is dying and if he dies then what does it matter because Shawn won’t be here to talk about it with, talk about anything with, and Gus needs him here.

Gus needs him here.

“I need you here.”

Shawn seizes again.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He’s not drifting so much anymore.

There’s a specific… something, calling to him. He’s drifting towards it, a gentle pull and push moving him its way. It feels unusual to let something direct him, but at the same time more familiar than anything else. Does that mean he’s a person, a place, and item? He’s Something– that’s interesting news. 

What is he?

Maybe when he gets wherever he’s going he’ll find out. Oh, that’s familiar too– finding things out. It’s exciting, even. He’d forgotten about Exciting. When drifting among Everything, knowing Everything, being Everything, it’s easy to lose Excitement. 

If only this push and pull would get him there a little quicker. Maybe he can speed it up. He will find a way to speed it up. 

There’s a hint.

He’s something that doesn’t give up.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lassiter drives behind the ambulance. Juliet is shaking too much to do it herself.

“He’s going to be fine, O’Hara.” Her partner’s voice is strong and firm and unyielding as always, and she knows it’s not real this time. He’s doing it for her. She sees the white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and the movement of his jaw as he grinds his teeth. She has to see it, she can’t look ahead at the ambulance where Shawn is possibly dying and she can’t look behind at where it happened and she can’t look out the windows at sights she’s not sure Shawn will ever see again.

So she looks at Lassiter. Shawn is an ocean, and Lassiter is a shoreline. Shawn throws himself against rocks and sands and trees, trying to pull them into his vast all-encompassing snare, but Lassiter is every single piece of the shoreline and more. Shawn can pull parts of Lassiter into the wild, uncontrollable seas, but he can never pull all of him, and whatever Shawn manages to snatch away will inevitably return to Lassiter sooner or later. They’re opposites and they’re the same, stubborn and determined and always there.

She needs that. She needs the fact that Lassiter is here. If he’s here, Shawn has to be too. Shawn has to be ready to rush in, pull her and her partner into something crazy and never-before-seen and utterly vexing, has to sweep her up in the tide for the time of her life and when the waves become too much for her she can cling to Lassiter for support and find her footing again, lay on the shoreline to catch her breath before the next swell.

Maybe she’s selling herself short– she’s gotten good at navigating both sides of it over the years, finding her own place in that dynamic that was already so present when she transferred to Santa Barbara. But right now she feels like she did in the beginning, unsteady and inexperienced and likely to drown, and she knows Lassiter is there and she can rely on him to help her find somewhere safe to rest until the storm has passed.

“Spencer is too stubborn to die in the middle of a case,” Lassiter grits out. “Especially if it’s not in some idiotic, dramatic way that belongs in a movie.”

He is. Shawn would never let himself die like this. Or would he? It’s is dramatic. Even if Lassiter claims it’s not. He’s doing that for her sake, too. She can’t pretend she believes that one.

She remembers hearing Gus scream Shawn’s name. Remembers the witness cutting herself off when she realized Shawn was still there. Remembers ignoring the witness’s cries of betrayal as she shot out of her chair because Gus sounded terrified and–

And freezing in the door, heart stopping, when she saw Shawn on the ground seizing. 

It was like a nightmare. 

Shawn’s face shouldn’t be slack and emotionless, Shawn’s eyes shouldn’t be unseeing and rolling, Shawn shouldn’t be–

And then Lassiter was calling for Buzz to call an ambulance behind her and she was moving and asking questions and trying to get Shawn to focus on her but she wasn’t, not really, she was focused on the spasming and the gasping and Shawn looking so unconnected to the world around him and she’d put a hand on his face and suddenly all of her thoughts were spilling out of his mouth and it made it too real, too real, too real–

They’re at the hospital.

She’s running out of the car and into the hospital. She’s explaining why she’s here. It’s all passing by in a blur. She’s sitting next to Lassiter, and he’s stiff and uncomfortable and exactly how she needs him to be right now, and then he puts an arm around her and pulls her into an awkward hug on the crappy waiting room chairs and she cries into his suit.

Gus is there when she pulls herself away. He looks on the outside like she feels on the inside. Shellshocked, confused, like he’s not sure where he is. She finds it in herself to stand up and coax him over beside her and Lassiter, and she holds him like Lassiter held her.

They’re there for maybe hours, maybe minutes, most likely somewhere in-between, when Henry shows up.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He’s Somewhere. 

That’s a nice change of pace. He’s in one single area, one single point in time, one single event. 

He used to do this a lot, didn’t he? It feels Familiar. Linear, and Familiar.

Oh, he Existed at one point. That’s cool to know. He thought he Knew Everything, but apparently it’s hard to know Anything when you know Everything. 

An old-ish woman is holding a toddler and weaving a rug. He recognizes them, of course he does, he recognizes Everyone and Everything because he is Everyone and Everything. But he recognizes them… Differently.

“You need to make a good life, good choices, or else you won’t snap out of it.” The old-ish woman looks at the toddler and sighs. He’s asleep. “I hope you’ll…”

Her eyes glaze over. They travel to a point just behind him and fix on the wall.

… No.

They fix on Him.

“Oh,” she says softly. “Well… at least I know you do figure it out eventually. Oh, sweetheart, look at you…”

He can’t look at himself, because there’s not really anything there. Is there? Maybe there is. She’s looking at him. How is she doing that? What does he look like? He…

He should know that. He should know what he looks like.

“I wish I could help you, sweetheart. It’d be a heck of a use for all the experience I have with this exact thing.” The old-ish woman sighs. “But it doesn’t work that way. You’ll have to find your own way back. Good news is you’re in the right general… area, of sorts. Something– Someone, will be calling you back, if you took my advice. Find it. Find them.”

He wants to ask her what she means. He should Know what she means. Maybe he does, but staying here is making it hard to Know. It’s jumbling things up, trying to sort them into a linear line, and that’s not right but it is but it can’t be. 

It’s making everything all… screwy.

Her eyes refocus as a man who looks decades older than he actually is walks in. “Alright Mom, thanks for watching Shawn but Maddie and I can take him back now.”

She blinks, and then shakes her head. “Let me have a little longer with my grandson, Henry. He’s the only one I’ll ever get.”

“Mads and I might decide to have another one.”

“You know you won’t. And I know Jack won’t be having one either.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“Mmm, I wish you weren’t right Henry.” She hands the toddler over, and then glances at the spot again for just a moment. “Goodbye, Shawn.”

He’s not There anymore.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The silence has been broken only by sniffles and the crinkling of vending machine snack wrappers for a long time when Henry, head in his hands, hands which pull at the little hair he has left, looks up at the wall and says “This is my fault.”

Gus chokes on his Twinkie, because he has never heard those words from Henry Spencer’s mouth.

“His grandma had seizures.” Henry rubs his hand over his head, soothing the red spots where he pulled and picked. “She told us to watch out for them in him, said it skipped a generation with me and Jack. When Shawn didn’t have any as a kid or teen Mads and I just… thought it skipped him too.”

“You mean this could’ve happened any time?” Lassiter’s voice is carefully controlled, but that control frays and snaps with his next sentence. “He could’ve just collapsed in the middle of a case and you didn’t think we needed to know that?!”

“Shawn doesn’t even know! I didn’t want him using it as–!” Henry cuts himself off, snapping his mouth shut in a deep scowl.

“Using it as what, Henry?” Juliet’s voice is tight, eyes sharp, body language taught, her entire being the drawstring of a bow pulled back and ready to fire.

“... As an excuse to get out of responsibilities,” Henry admits in a sharp, short spit. Gus’s face twists into some mix of rage, disbelief, and complete unsurprise. Juliet stands, hands clenched by her sides, and Lassiter stands up right after in case he needs to break up an altercation. But he doesn’t move to hold her back yet.

“That is not okay, Henry. Not okay not to tell him, and especially not okay to assume the worst of him as a child!”

“You didn’t know him as a child!” Henry barks the defense on instinct, and has to hold his head again to reel himself back in. His voice is thick when he speaks again. “You think I’m not kicking myself over the decision now? I should’ve just told him, I didn’t even know what triggered Mom’s seizures, how did I think I’d know with him…”

“It’s just irresponsible.” Lassiter puts a hand on Juliet’s shoulder– not to stop her if she moves to swing, just to let her know he’s here. “What the hell else have you left out, Henry? Is your kid going to collapse of heart failure on us next?”

“His heart hasn’t had trouble since his surgery,” Henry mutters.

“Aw, what the hell– I was trying to be cutting! What do you mean Spencer had heart surgery?!”

“... He’s also got some trouble feeling pain.”

“Explain.” Juliet’s voice is cold. Gus looks like he might pop– either in self-destruction like a balloon too filled, or maybe like he’ll ‘pop’ Henry in the jaw to spare his own sanity.

“I dunno, he just doesn’t feel pain right, Maddie never told me the name of it. He feels it but not to the degree he should, or… something like that.”

“Holy crap.” Lassiter pinches the bridge of his nose. “Spencer, you realize this would all have been very valuable to know while he was out getting guns pointed at him every week for the last few years?! No wonder he doesn’t– the man ran through the woods with an untreated gunshot wound, for Cripe’s sake! He might not even know what counts as a ‘serious injury’ if he can’t feel pain right!”

Before Henry can say anything back, a doctor walks in. “Family of Shawn Spencer?”

Gus and Henry both stand– Gus makes sure to step closer to the doctor than Henry does.

“All of you?”

“Yes,” Juliet says quickly, and though he opens his mouth for a moment, Lassiter closes it again without protest.

“Well, I have good news. He’s stable, it looks like the worst of it has passed. He’s unconscious, and we’re waiting on the results of a few tests, but so far it’s looking like he’ll be okay. We’re letting visitors into his ro–”

Gus is rushing past her before the sentence is even over. Henry is on his tail, Juliet and Lassiter right behind.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He’s drifting around a few specific lives.

His favorite is Burton Guster’s. Burton Guster is the coolest, awesomest, most incredible person in all of Everything, and he can say that for a fact. He hadn’t had favorites while he was Everything, but he’s a little smaller now, and Burton Guster is his Favorite. 

Juliet O’Hara and Carlton Lassiter are close, close seconds. They’re all very different from each other, but they’re all bound together by something he can’t quite pinpoint yet, and he’s glad because they’re all incredible. Everything is boring compared to them. He’d have them over Everything any day– day. 

Day by day. Living life day by day. 

He did that, didn’t he?

He has a Past. 

That’s interesting. He has a Past, so he must have a Future… and a Present.

Is that what the old-ish lady meant? He needs to find his Present? How did he even get taken out of it? He’s not dead– he doesn’t think he is, anyway. The Dead are different. He drifted among them a lot. They’re not what he is.

He follows along all their cords at once– there’s another one, just out of his reach, just out of range for Connection. 

And there’s another, a fifth cord, and it’s… Different.

It’s woven around them, the three favorites and the fourth he can’t quite connect to, all bound together by this strange cord with nothing on top. There’s nothing to follow. Nothing to look at the stitching of, the messy edges, the covered-up unsightly bits that make up a Life. 

There’s not even the neat little picture the messy stitching makes up for the other things on top to see. Just the cord, woven right in, tightly clinging to these other four.

He follows them. There’s something he’s missing. Something he needs to find. This is Familiar. He needs to find something. He always needs to find something. He does this all the time. What is he missing?

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His hands are still scratching.

He’s completely still otherwise. But his hands are still scratching. Faster now, in fact. Faster, almost desperately. His eyes are closed. His ears have been cleaned up. There’s still blood in his stubble.

“How long would your mom be… asleep?” Juliet asks, watching Shawn’s twitching hands.

“It varied.” Henry can’t look at his son. He can’t look at his son’s friends. He can only look at the ground below his son’s hospital bed. “She only got this bad a few times in my life. Usually she just–” Henry rubs his face. “She just disconnected, and came back spouting nonsense. The only time I can remember her bleeding is just before Jack went to first grade. He asked me if we’d always be able to count on each other and I said yes. She collapsed on the spot.”

“And was she–”

“It took three days for her to wake up.”

The room is quiet again.

Shawn keeps scratching.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s a cord he can’t find. A Life he can’t track down. Someone always around the three favorites and the fourth he can’t reach. 

The mystery Life and Cord should come to be next to the fourth unreachable one around the time of late teens or early twenties. It should come to be beside Burton Guster’s almost at the very beginning, woven away for a bit before coming back around. It should be by Juliet O’Hara’s and Carlton Lassiter’s around the same time it’s woven back beside the unreachable cord and Burton Gusters.

He can’t quite find it. It’s a person, a Life, but there’s nothing On Top. It’s someone unmissable, unless he wants to be. Someone loud, because he was told to be quiet for most of his life. Someone who hides in plain sight, because he can make everyone see whatever he wants them to see. Someone who can see Everything, and it’s too much but most of the time no-one can tell how Much it truly is.

He looks closer, closer. He follows the four cords as far as they’ll go, but it hurts to See the ends so close up. He likes them. He loves them. He doesn’t follow them to the ends entirely, when the bit on top will be woven into their cords and they’ll be a part of the weave itself instead of decorating it. He doesn’t want them to End. 

He goes back. He goes to their starts, and moves along slowly, and he begins to understand how Life moves.

Day by day, little by little, the Present mattering more than anything else. Each life is not just one big cord encompassing all of a Person, but a million little threads, each second making the threads that make up the whole. 

He hones in on the threads, each one so important– details. 

He knows Details. He’s the king of Details. Who is he?

He picks over the cords, scratching at the individual threads.

Bump.

Wait. There…

The Present.

The most important part.

They’re all four there. Sitting in a hospital room. Someone is on the bed. The Missing Cord.

“Shawn won’t take three days,” Burton Guster says. “He won’t be able to wait that long.”

“He’s not patient,” the unreachable cord agrees.

“Henry, tell us what we should expect when he does wake up.” Juliet O’Hara is holding back from screaming at the unreachable cord– Henry, apparently. 

He should know Everything. Does him not knowing how to reach the fourth mean he’s getting closer to where he needs to be, smaller to fit in what was once his Existence, singular enough to be a Life? Hopefully.

Henry sits back in his chair, the sound of his spine hitting the hard plastic echoing in the sterile room. “Look, Juliet, it’s not like I’m an expert in this. My mother died decades ago, and–and you know, even then I never really knew her well. She was always…” he waves a hand by his head. “... Somewhere else. She was worse than Shawn about it.”

“Maybe because of this?” Juliet gestures at the man– Shawn– in the bed. He’s unconscious. His cord is missing. He probably won’t wake up. 

That’s…

Upsetting.

“... Maybe.” Henry sighs and puts his face in his hands. “My mother… wasn’t… well. She thought–” He lets out a bitter laugh. “She thought, she was psychic.”

Something twangs. Thrums. It’s His cord, somewhere, the one he’s meant to be traveling along day by day, event by event, second by second– but where? Where?

“What?!” Burton Guster stands up. It’s distracting. It’s all he can focus on. “Shawn’s grandma was psychic and you just never felt a need to mention it?!”

“She wasn’t! Psychic!” Henry is barely holding himself together. He’s rage and indignation and regret stuffed inside a meat suit. “She was a sick woman who got everyone else to believe her… delusions! I made her stop claiming it when Jack was a kid so he wouldn’t–!” Henry huffs, clenching his jaw and looking away. “Well, fat lot of good it did in the end with him. The damage was done. I wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to Shawn.”

“This is ridiculous.” Carlton Lassiter is cleaning out his gun. He loves that gun, but he’s being a little rough with it. “Now you’re telling me Spencer’s the lastest in a long line of psychics? What, are we in one of his asinine 80’s movies?”

“He is not–!” Henry seems to catch himself differently this time. This time like he almost spilled a secret. What is the secret? Does not knowing mean Life is almost in reach? “He is not, the latest, in a long line. His grandmother wasn’t psychic.”

Burton Guster is having a crisis. He sits down heavily. He’s remembering things– the man on the bed collapsing and seizing and saying the thoughts in Burton Guster’s head. He’s remembering years and years of observations, mysteries, gut feelings from his friend that he’s reexamining and–

And those are Familiar.

…

He scratches the cord wrapped around the four. The one with nothing on top, no Life following it’s tracks.

On the bed, Shawn Spencer’s eyes flutter.

Oh. 

Oh. 

Oh, of course.

He scratches it again. 

Bump.

Shawn Spencer sucks in a breath. Everyone in the room looks at him with hesitant hope.

Bump.

Shawn Spencer’s eyes move under his lids. Everything is getting smaller. He doesn’t Know what he Knew before. He still Knows more than he should, but smaller, foggier, less readily available. It feels familiar. It feels right.

Bump.

He doesn’t know what the other people in the room think and feel anymore. He doesn’t know Everything. 

But he does know that his head hurts.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn groans and turns his head to try and bury himself into the pillow. Everything aches. 

“Shawn!” Gus’s voice hurts his ears– they’re really tender, he realizes as feeling slowly comes back to his body. As he slowly comes back to his body, settling back into Life and Singularity. What a freaky experience… 

“Gus,” he groans. “Turn off the light.”

“Shawn, you–” Gus’s gushy proclamation of joy is cut off by a sob. “Oh my god, Shawn, you’re back.” He dives in for a hug, and Shawn coughs from the force he’s squeezed with. It’s nice, though. Being a formless, personality-less, wandering Nothing kind of seriously sucked. He’d way rather feel like absolute crap than feel like Nothing and not even know what he’s missing out on by being Something.

“I’m back, buddy,” Shawn rasps, patting Gus on the back and trying to open his eyes. He regrets it instantly, shutting them tight again. “Ah! Seriously, lights!”

They click off, and when Shawn cracks his eyes back open he just barely sees Lassie’s head over by where he remembers the lightswitch being from when he was Watching. His head pulses with pain when he remembers that. The whole experience is there, but blocked off, visible through a thick wall of mesh meant to keep out curious minds that’ll hurt themselves looking too closely. He groans and sinks back against the bed, for once deciding to respect a ‘No Entry’ warning. “Thanks, Lassieface.”

“I just didn't want you to whine about it.”

“You didn’t want me in pain. You love me.”

“I will turn them back on.”

“Carlton.”

“It’s okay Jules. Lassie’s sweet, yet also sour denial of his deep affection for me is exactly what I need after all that.”

“Kid.” Oh, there he is– the ‘unreachable cord’. As if he needed any more confirmation their relationship is absolutely screwed up. Henry steps into Shawn’s sight, expression a mess of emotions he’s trying not to have. “Listen, I–”

“Not now, Pop.” Shawn pats Gus’s back again, a silent signal to please let go before he passes out again, and Gus quickly pulls away and wipes at his eyes. “We can talk about you hiding stuff about Grandma from me later.”

“I just– wait. How did you know that?”

Shawn musters up a small smile, and puts his finger by his head. 

Henry isn’t amused. Shawn’s smile falls. His finger doesn’t.

“I’m serious, Dad.”

“Shawn.”

“The universe is a big rug, or uh… tapestry, thing, by the way. Beautiful, masterfully made, but a little coarse. One out of five stars, would not recommend before dying.”

“Shawn, don’t.”

“Respectfully, Mr. Spencer, shut up a second.” Gus leans in close as Henry is stunned by the blatant disrespect from someone who only ever calls him “Mr.” and used to scold Shawn for his misplaced prepositions. “Shawn. Be real with me. You read my mind before, remember that? And I’ve been thinking about all the stuff we’ve done together and– just, tell me straight. Are you actually…”

“Yeah, buddy.” Shawn closes his eyes again. “And it kind of blows.”

“Oh my god.”

“Didn’t see him. Unless he’s the rug, I guess, but I don’t think that’d make very good stained-glass windows.”

“Guster, don’t–”

“He read my mind back at the station! He’s not delusional!”

“Why would he be delusional?” Jules is at Shawn’s bedside, holding a cup of water, offering the straw to Shawn. “Henry, you’ve been acting weird and cagey about this entire thing.”

“Because he’s not–!”

“He is!”

Jules just looks more confused as it sinks in what Henry is not-saying. “Wait, why is this up for debate? You’ve confirmed it for us yourself!”

Shawn’s hands twitch. Bump.

It’ll work out. He can rely on The Universe to ensure Everything will Always work out. But he can make it work out well for everyone, not just himself, he knows it. And he can find it, find the best way to handle this. He can follow the cords without slipping away. He can. He’s done it before, he just didn’t know he was doing it. The sounds of arguing, of his dad finally spilling his secret, of Lassie shouting in vindication and then anger, of all it becomes background noise for a moment.

Bump, bump, bump…

The cords are running through him, but they’re not tight. They’re slack, and malleable. They’re not fully set in place yet. He can shift them. He can manipulate them–

No, no, his grandma told him not to get sucked into that. He wants to. He shouldn’t. He can. He could figure out how to move everything exactly how he wants. It’s right there…

But if he did that, had been doing that the whole time, where would his life be right now? He could probably find out exactly where– he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t need to, doesn’t need to sink into The Universe and play with it to know that he wouldn’t be here, with the good and the bad and all the in-between. 

Jules wouldn’t be here. Lassie wouldn’t be here. Gus might not even be here.

He lets out a slow breath. 

Bump. 

There.

There’s how he can do this without losing everything. Without everyone getting too hurt. Without just letting The Universe settle itself around him and his giant, panicked, longstanding deceptions.

He opens his eyes and everyone is arguing. Jules is furious and betrayed, Gus is yelling at Henry, Henry is fuming, Lassie clearly doesn’t know how to feel–

“Guys!”

His shout turns all eyes on him.

“I can explain everything,” he promises. “Yes, I am psychic. Yes, I lied about solving crimes psychically for years now. How are they both true? Well, let’s start with how my father is terrible at sharing important information until it’s almost not helpful anymore, and then skip right over to Lassie not believing I could get a good tip for him just by watching the news. By the end I promise you’ll all have your minds blown, might even be begging me to sell this as a TV show. Just… sit down.”

Gus does, and eyes the other three expectantly. They all take their seats with more hesitation. But they take them.

Twang. The cords pull taut for a moment as something major shifts, settles, and is firmly woven into place. Shawn can feel it reverberate in his bones. He thinks he’s felt it once before, back when…

“Lassie had me brought into the station after I called in a tip.”

[arrowheadedbitch]

Okay, I've been discussing ideas about a PJO Psych crossover and it is now time to share my findings

Okay, so once upon a time Henry Spencer met a woman who when posing as a mortal went by the name Madeleine but she was actually a goddess, they had a kid, she was a minor goddess, so she was able to stay for a while, but eventually she left.

Yes, of COURSE Shawn thinks it's his Dad's fault

The goddess was Mnemosyne, the Greek goddess of MEMORY and the mother of the muses (works perfectly, right??!??!?!)

And Gus is his Satyr protector!!!

Henry does all the same training with Shawn to be a cop and such

Shawn gets his eidetic memory from his mother, the goddess of memory

I've also decided he gets taskmaster powers (can do anything he sees from memory) because that fucks hard

Shawn gets the record of fastest kid to get claimed as his mother officially claims him before he even leaves for camp

Here's her symbol by the way!

Anyway, when Shawn gets to camp, he's a total little shit

At first, the other campers think he's just not being claimed, depending on how you work the timeline here? Percy is pissed

Then Gus and Shawn explain that he actually got claimed before he even showed up (Percy vows to personally thank his godly parent for being an actually decent person)

So, they ask who it is, and Shawn WILL NOT TELL THEM

Why? Because it's funner that way!

They have an ongoing tally and betting pool of who his godly parent is, no one guesses it

He also keeps sneaking Mr D alcohol because it's funny and no one but Dionysus is happy about that

Gus is still his best friend that he drags into things, obv, they probably end up soul bound just like percy and grover

Juliet is a child of Athena

Lassie is a child of Ares and if your going by the show there's a super funny joke about how he looks exactly like Hephaestus but is the son of the guy he hates most, haha

Shawn KILLS at capture the flag

No one believes him when he says he doesn't have charm speak

Instead of becoming a SB Psychic, he ends up being this crime solving traveling cryptid (he's gotta keep moving bc monsters) (dont worry, he still visits camp pretty often and likes to drop by Santa Barbara to solve crimes and piss off his dad)

There was also a lengthy convo about each gods opinion of him of any of you wanna hear that

Shawn is the muse of doing weird shit

Also art lover shawn 🔛🔝, he's got plenty of muse talent, yall

Instead of pretending to be a psychic, he's pretending to NOT be muse adjacent

And now, a list of Gods people keep guessing for Shawn

Dionysus, Hermes, Athena, Aphrodite, Apollo, Hecate

And finally, gay people real???

As you can see, we mostly talked about Shawn lol