head_psychic

so Gus and I took a plastic bag, the food processor and Mom's acid cream jars to mix a potion strong enough to save mankind from the deadly menace. At least we thought so, until the solid blob started making unholy, screeching noises, the bag with its contents growing, swelling over the Flames of Hell which we had summoned over our stove. It threw us for a loop of sheer, alchemic terror. We simply could not believe we had failed! What had we done wrong? Had we been too careless, too callow? Too blue-eyed about powers our young minds were not yet able to grasp? Had we just unleashed an even bigger threat upon humanity?

And how should we battle the evil forces without the pentacle of Estee Lauder?

As soon as we realized our shocking mistake we got a candle and tried to seal the first deadly wounds in the plastic fabric of our banning hex. Up to this day I do not know what happened then. We must have done something wrong with the magic seal we dropped on the bulging bizarreness, because as soon as the wax hit the thin fabric, the only thing separating us from the evil forces of hissing, gurgling demons, the barrier was torn apart like a teenage magazine in a puberty tantrum because they just posted yet another photo love story where your idol gets to make out with some unknown, ugly nobody.

The Charged Energy of Chaos and Destruction exploded, all over the


Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 252

"Look son, being a good shot, being quick with a pistol, that don't do no harm, but it don't mean much next to being cool-headed. A man who will keep his head and not get rattled under fire, like as not, he'll kill ya."
– Unforgiven


Like most teenage boys Shawn Spencer thought guns were neat. Therefore he was thrilled when his dad finally said it was about time he learned how to handle one. Henry built a shooting-range and Shawn had a soft air at first and when he got better and better he was taken to the range at the station.

The first time Shawn fired a real gun he was surprised how heavy it was. And how loud. He had expected it to be more like in the movies, to sound like in the movies but that day he learned that in the movies this was all they were: sounds. The real gunfire rang in his ears and dazed him, his arms shook from the unexpected kickback and that was when he felt the power of a weapon. Not the power of coolness or the power depicted by action heroes but the sheer, brute and ugly force of the real world.

His knees weakened from it and when the target zoomed in and Henry told him "Congratulations, son. You just shot the hostage." he felt sick for two days straight.


Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 185

How d'you fix a fishing rod...?

Who knows how to make snow?