head_psychic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
head_psychic) wrote2008-07-16 07:24 pm
head_psychic) wrote2008-07-16 07:24 pm
Entry tags:
It's a jungle out there (for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bigkitty75)
(ooc: Crack AU crossover storyline. Because we can. Also, exam phases do silly things to my brain.)
Shawn despises when waking up is not nice. There should be a rule against it because starting a new day should be something fun. This isn't fun, it's strenuous and his body is fighting his mind. When he opens his eyes it's bright, too bright. He groans and covers his face with his hand. Bright is not good, bright is usually hospitals, soon-to-come pains and I-told-you-so-Gusses.
Something is dripping on his nose and he grimaces and blinks.
There's a cut on his hand and it's bleeding. Shawn frowns at the red for a moment. Wow. Now that is some pretty lousy treatment they got here. Maybe he's still outside in the hallway?
Yeah, that must be it. They're about to treat his wounds, the doctors just have to finish their coffee first.
He's so tired, battered almost and he's so sure that he was in another motorcycle accident and his dad will kill him for it. With an exhausted sigh he lets his eyes slip shut, ready to sink back into the darkness.
-and the metal deforms, like paper, it looks so funny-
-he sees the small shards slashing little wounds in the seats, it's mean, he likes the seats-
-bodies, attached to their seat-belts, jump up and down, bobbly, like those little AIM dudes-
-more metal is ripped away, for a moment he can just look down and the plane is up so high, he can see everything-
-it's so loud, so loud, the ceiling cambers, forms a picture, it's one of those 3D-pictures-
-falling-
His eyes snap open with an audible gasp and he sits up. Fails, falls down back again with a wet, soaking sound, only now realizing the small waves splashing around his body. There is sand in his mouth. A crawfish looks at him and Shawn is very sure that in the body-language of crawfishes that little bastard is laughing at him.
The world is zoning in on him, like someone turning up the volume. He can hear people screaming, shouting, pieces of metal are right in front of him, scattered all over the beige tablecloth he identifies as even more sand.
Beach, his inner lexicon tells him. It's called a beach.
When Shawn realizes that he has been washed ashore he stops and ponders that something is very, very wrong. True, some the other things, like the fire he spots from the corner of his eye, are hinting at that as well but he's too tired for details.
You have just been in a plane crash.
He stares at the sand and the fact that suddenly stands in his mind like a headline. Like the first sentence of a manual. Congratulations. You have just purchased your very own catastrophe. Please press the red panic button next to the rational part of your brain and enjoy.
Shawn stares at the sand a little longer, his lower lip suddenly quivering. No way.
And then his hands start moving, looking for support from the sandy underground as he pushes himself up and gets a full look at something that should be forbidden outside a war movie. The image burns its way deep into his memory and Shawn isn't sure what is worse, that he's seeing it or that he will never be able to stop seeing it again. No way.
He whimpers softly, scrambling to his feet.
No way, dude. No way, no way, no way.
Shawn despises when waking up is not nice. There should be a rule against it because starting a new day should be something fun. This isn't fun, it's strenuous and his body is fighting his mind. When he opens his eyes it's bright, too bright. He groans and covers his face with his hand. Bright is not good, bright is usually hospitals, soon-to-come pains and I-told-you-so-Gusses.
Something is dripping on his nose and he grimaces and blinks.
There's a cut on his hand and it's bleeding. Shawn frowns at the red for a moment. Wow. Now that is some pretty lousy treatment they got here. Maybe he's still outside in the hallway?
Yeah, that must be it. They're about to treat his wounds, the doctors just have to finish their coffee first.
He's so tired, battered almost and he's so sure that he was in another motorcycle accident and his dad will kill him for it. With an exhausted sigh he lets his eyes slip shut, ready to sink back into the darkness.
-and the metal deforms, like paper, it looks so funny-
-he sees the small shards slashing little wounds in the seats, it's mean, he likes the seats-
-bodies, attached to their seat-belts, jump up and down, bobbly, like those little AIM dudes-
-more metal is ripped away, for a moment he can just look down and the plane is up so high, he can see everything-
-it's so loud, so loud, the ceiling cambers, forms a picture, it's one of those 3D-pictures-
-falling-
His eyes snap open with an audible gasp and he sits up. Fails, falls down back again with a wet, soaking sound, only now realizing the small waves splashing around his body. There is sand in his mouth. A crawfish looks at him and Shawn is very sure that in the body-language of crawfishes that little bastard is laughing at him.
The world is zoning in on him, like someone turning up the volume. He can hear people screaming, shouting, pieces of metal are right in front of him, scattered all over the beige tablecloth he identifies as even more sand.
Beach, his inner lexicon tells him. It's called a beach.
When Shawn realizes that he has been washed ashore he stops and ponders that something is very, very wrong. True, some the other things, like the fire he spots from the corner of his eye, are hinting at that as well but he's too tired for details.
You have just been in a plane crash.
He stares at the sand and the fact that suddenly stands in his mind like a headline. Like the first sentence of a manual. Congratulations. You have just purchased your very own catastrophe. Please press the red panic button next to the rational part of your brain and enjoy.
Shawn stares at the sand a little longer, his lower lip suddenly quivering. No way.
And then his hands start moving, looking for support from the sandy underground as he pushes himself up and gets a full look at something that should be forbidden outside a war movie. The image burns its way deep into his memory and Shawn isn't sure what is worse, that he's seeing it or that he will never be able to stop seeing it again. No way.
He whimpers softly, scrambling to his feet.
No way, dude. No way, no way, no way.
no subject
Gus chokes a laugh out. "Kicked my ass? You must have hit your head hard, because that so didn't happen."