head_psychic | Entries tagged with gus

Shawn wondered if the little red numbers of electrical alarm clocks had formed a union somewhere, a place where all the little 8s and 2s and 0s met to discuss the amout of hours late night insomniacs were allowed to watch them. He found it a very voyeuristic way of living and was glad he wasn't a digit. Although, being a neat, wonky 7...

( ... )

Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 586

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

( Spoilers for 3x8 - Gus walks into a bank )

Gus is so not bailing out of this one. Especially not since technically it was his idea, not Shawn's. So no. No whining, no arguing, not even the last tortilla chip will talk Shawn out of this. Not that there are tortilla chips (especially not the last one, Gus never let him have the last one unless Shawn was super-sneaky) but there are plans and he will stick to them.

Which is why he doesn't tell Gus beforehand but just packs all the stuff they need, hiding it in the trunk of the Blueberry. And really, shark-diving and a local games convention are technically the same thing, right? Just... different levels of graphics.

(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.

( ... )

"I'm telling you, that man was a genius!"

"And you are an idiot, Shawn. You cannot reduce Freud like that! That man has made important contributions to the world of-"

"Gus, all he talked about was sex. And given this definition his Freudian slips are nothing but a primeval version of your mom-jokes!"

Frustration. It fills the room and thickens the air like smog. "Freudian slips are not connected to your-mom-jokes! And not everything that happened before 1990 is primeval, Shawn!"

A smile. "I think I can call it primeval if it happened a millennium ago. And don't you know that common pun? A Freudian slip is like saying one thing, but meaning your mother. It's common knowledge, you just have to analyze it right!"

"That is no proof. You read that on Wikipedia! I'm not arguing with you over things you learned from Wikipedia! Media competence makes it important to use Wikipedia as a springboard, not an instance of utter sex! Truth!"

A beat. "What?"

"Truth!"

"You just said sex."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did! You said sex!" A grin, big and knowing and oh-so-smug. "I can sense Freud would have a field day now..."

There is grumbling and turning away. "Your mom."

Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 205

"No, I am telling you, Gus, he was trying to put you on. No giant mutant cockroach by the name of Kyle has ever lived in this building. At least none that ever introduced himself properly to me." Shawn shakes his head and rattles on the door, frowing when the key is firmly stuck in the lock. "That actually sounds familiar. Was that door broken back then as well?"

With some effort he pushes it open and steps inside, taking a quick look around. The flat is empty, nobody's been living here for years. The wallpaper hangs from the walls, bright squares color the spots where furniture is no longer and with a surprised sigh Shawn realizes that it actually stings. Alright, so he has never been truly attached to this place but he's been living here for quite some time and this place has been home for him just like the rest of the whole wide world. Finding it so bare and empty leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and he gets rid of that with a handful of Skittles. They've got work to do after all.

He steps forward, determined, he wants to figure out once and for all how this all happened, how they ended up married ten years ago and what combination of drinks they must have had that he still doesn't know. Hopefully retracing their steps would do enough to trigger his memory.

"Looks bigger now that the big purple wardrobe is gone, don't you think?"

Why won't you kill me for taking the last frozen yogurt from the fridge?

Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 14

1990

Being troublemakers Shawn knew exactly what Gus looked like after he had gotten into a fight. Or merely stumbled and fell. Or had been stuffed into a locker. Or had fallen yet again into the painful, overall category of bullying.

It didn't look anything like this today. Gus just stood there and plucked his stained shirt that looked like he had been chased around and fallen into a puddle of mud.

Or pushed.

( ... )

Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 653

Current Mood: infuriated

It is the most logical thing in the world to climb into Gus' bed. He can structure this decision, analyze it and back it up with enough evidence to make even his dad proud.

First, the couch, however comfortable, does something to his back that after a few days can be called nothing but 'slow replacement of internal bone structure'. So when he starts stretching all day long, accompanied by the soft, rhythmic cracks, he knows it is most likely time for a change.

( ... )

Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 410

Two jumps in a week
I bet you think that's pretty clever don't you boy?
Flying on your motorcycle,
Watching all the ground beneath you drop
You'd kill yourself for recognition,
Kill yourself to never ever stop

Shawn closed his eyes.

"Oh no, don't you dare to try ignoring me now, Shawn! You will listen to me and you will listen well, because you have been acting like an idiot. Let me stress that again. I-di-ot!"

He snuggled into the pillow. Sighed contentedly.

( ... )

Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 567

Dude, I need to talk to you.

Don't worry, I sent an actor to your office. When he gets to the part of breaking down and crying openly just tell him his sins are forgiven, leave and meet me outside.

1. Hair products. I ordered a special palette of free samples from all over the world and they should arrive at the office the day after tomorrow. My hair is in a serious holiday spirit!

2. The first official annual Santa Barbara spring welcoming ritual. Gus, we need bottles, dye, neon lights, paper and a subwoover.

This is how it works: We will fill the dye in the bottles - the bottles have to be transparent, none of that green glass, brown glass creepiness, we have to see them for they are the springbringers. The neon lights will be attached to the subwoover and the bottles will be put on top of them. Around the subwoover we put the paper and as soon as the music plays the bottles tumble over and paint pictures. It will be like reading tea leaves but gaudy!

Trust me, it will be awesome.

3. Headphones. They are the link to the imagination of your eardrum-awesomeness. Be nice to your ears and invest. Mine are custom and pineapple-shaped. The headphones, not the ears.

Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 172

Gus! Get the car, we have to stop a barbarous inhumanity! And I do not mean reruns of the Nanny!

Current Mood: shocked

"Shawn."

"Hmm?"

"When you said 'Dude! Let's go to Disneyland!' I expected that dude. We'd go to Disneyland. You never said anything about a case!"

"Why would I do that? You clearly knew it was for the case."

( ... )

Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 553

Current Mood: happy

( Spoilers for 2x15 - Black and Tan )

Current Mood: lonely

From: Shawn Spencer
To: Burton Guster
Subject: SUPER POWERS

Gus,

are you ignoring my mails? Why do you ignore my mails? Don't stop reading, I mean it, you won't have to scroll a lot. Unless you stop reading because in that case I have to keep writing that you should NOT stop reading this and this mail will get longer and longer. So. Don't stop reading.

( ... )

Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 382

Current Mood: bored

1. For whatever in game reasons, you need to steal something. Roleplay the situation from one of these standpoints (or all three in succession if you like):

C. You have been caught, or confronted after the fact, and you have to deal with the consequences or deny.

---

"Spencer! You got a visitor."

It might be enough to make an eighteen-year-old open his eyes but not enough by far to make him get up. No, not even solitary confinement is bad enough to get him to face his dad. Yet.

( ... )

Current Mood: uncomfortable

Your character is tied to a chair. Why?

1986

"Henry! What is going on here?!"

"Winnie, would you please calm down..."

Shawn and Gus exchanged a quick look, both very eager to run away. If they had been able to.

"Calm down! I find my son tied to a kitchen chair and you want me to calm down?"

( ... )

Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 2,264

Current Mood: stressed

Shawn giggles when the door snaps shot. But it's alright to giggle because he giggles with offense! Which sounds pretty much like giggling anyway.

He spins his award, turning on his heels and waving it at Gus while walking the hallway backwards to face his friend. "Most clueless! I cannot believe these people! I mean, I mean look at me! Do I look like a clueless person to you? I am not a clueless person. I got it all figured out! The world, the cases, I mean, if I had been there Twin Peaks wouldn't have even lasted one single episode!"

He bumps against a doorframe and ow!s for a moment, shaking his head. "We gotta keep this out of sight. I mean, not out of sight, because clearly owning a golden donkey is just what our office chi needs. Trust me. What I mean is out of sight from dad. Oh my God, can you believe what it'd be like? Him seeing this? He'd hang around the office all day, trying to, oh my gosh, do you think he'd get the nasty idea of tutoring us?" He points at his prize. "This thing? Has to go. But at the same time hasn't."

Shawn frowns, clearly thinking before his eyes widen and he raises a finger, his face lighting up with an idea. "Dude, I got it! Go get some gaffer tape. We'll just hide what it's for, like, stick it over the 'most clueless' so it does nothing but looking shiny in the office's shelf!"