(no subject)
Player nickname: Tifa
Player LJ: arcesso
Way to contact you:
Email: live.infamy[at]gmail.com
AIM: live infamy
Are you at least 15?: Y.
Current Characters: Lisa Reisert, Bruce Wayne, Rogue, Lady.
Character: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Character Notes:
History: Shawn was born in Santa Barbara to Madeleine (a psychologist with an eidetic memory) and Henry (an over-eager police officer) Spencer to a long line of Spencer men who had all been police officers. Which made Henry overly eager to teach Shawny how to be one - by the age of fifteen, Shawn could earn a perfect score on the Santa Barbara Police Department's detective's exam. However, Shawn had no interest in that. In fact, he didn't have much interest in anything. He couldn't keep his attention focused on one career path for longer than a week, so he wound up doing odd jobs when he graduated high school - anything that interested him at the time. Which also entailed a very disappointed Henry making his life Hell whenever possible as some kind of sick and twisted and TOTALLY UNFAIR vengeance for not joining the police department. Not that Shawn's bitter - he just doesn't realize Henry's good intentions for IMPOUNDING his only means of transportation because he got in one little motorcycle accident. Anyway, around '92 his parents split and then divorced, Shawn finds out later in life that his mom up and left for a job opportunity and that it wasn't his Dad's fault even though he blamed him forever.
Oh, and then there's this poor kid Gus. Who, through no fault of his own, was probably nice to Shawn once and henceforth gained the title best friend from childhood. Since they were, like, six poor Gus has been pulled into Shawn's shenanigans and usually takes the heat for them. Luckily, Shawn doesn't often get caught. There was that one time, though, when he was 18 and was trying to impress a girl. Stole a car. Apparently grand theft auto sticks with you.
Anyway, it becomes a hobby of Shawn's to watch news coverage of crime scenes and phone in tips of what he observes, because the reward's a nice bit of extra cash in his pocket. However, one tip is so insightful that the SBPD decides that only the guilty party would have known - and Shawn becomes a suspect. Eager to avoid jail, he tells them that he learned the information through a psychic vision. And, they believe him because he goes on to help them solve the case. Since then, he has set up a psychic detective agency, doing the occasional assist for the SBPD (read occasional as frequent) whether he's wanted or not and getting into all kinds of shenanigans with Gus as his partner.
Personality: Shawn is what you might call a pathological liar. He doesn't do well with the truth, and in order to avoid straight up lies, he keeps the focus on other people. Detective work is a good way of doing this. He also does an amazing job of keeping people at a distance, such as Juliet, and high school crush Abigail who he stood up because he was afraid he liked her too much and she'd hurt him after she agreed to go to the carnival with him. He's also very erratic and spontaneous, and his thoughts are generally one big jumble - leading him to make obscure and often times contorted references to pop culture almost constantly. Despite the facade he may put on, Shawn is not a moron - he's actually brilliant, Einstein style, where he's completely eccentric about it. Except Shawn doesn't want to do anything fantastic with his life, he wants to enjoy it.
Other: Shawn is borderline obsessed with pineapples. He likes to give them as gifts, orders everything pineapple-flavored whenever possible and just generally enjoys himself a good pineapple every once in a while, despite his hate for pointy objects. Oh, and he has a photographic memory, inherited from his mother, which is why he's such a bombass psychic detective. He also has perfect aim.
First Person (entry type):
Dude. Dude. Gus, you have to come see this, it's something about ducks and I'm totally having flashbacks to Duck Tales; it's like we're ten years old all over again. Where's my Stretch Armstrong? Whatever.
Point is, I feel like I just stumbled upon the Temple of Doom and you are totally not here sharing my excitement! See, Gus, this is why you have to kick that pharmaceutical company to the curb, they're just taking up your me-time.
Okay, whatever, call me when you get this, Jules is on the other line and I think it's serious because you know how she hates "Don't Stop Believing" and I set that as my ringback yesterday. Black out.
Third Person: Prompt: Orange
"Look, Shawn, I told you; if you're ever going to be a police officer-" And that was about when he stopped listening. Eight years old, it was hard for him to focus on much more than the fact that he wanted that fruit roll up and Henry was still talking about how important it was that he observed his surroundings and took account of them. Of course, it was easy for him to tell his father how many things in the room were orange. He just had to close his eyes and there the room was just like it had been before his father had pulled him back into the kitchen behind the counter where he couldn't see a thing. But, that would mean giving into The Man.
"Six." Shawn threw out his hand, palm up, waiting for his treat while his dad peered over the counter and watched the living room. He opened his mouth to protest and Shawn stomped his feet in aggravation. "The walls don't count, they're rust, Daaaaad." Henry Spencer caved, giving the fruit roll up to his son and nodding with a defeated sigh. A memory like that would have been useful when he was on the force.
Fast forward, more than twenty years later, Shawn was strapping on roller skates on the steps of the Psych office, pina colada fruit roll-up between his lips and a look of discomfort on his face. He could have sworn those skates fit during the roller derby case, his feet couldn't have possibly gotten any - oh. He pulled out his foot, reached in a hand and produced a blue stress ball. He squeezed it and leaned back, tossing it back inside the office and making a perfect basket in the top desk drawer. Gus looked up from his newspaper, expression displeased.
"Shawn, what are you doing?"
"Trying out for the NBA - do you think they'll mind the rollerskates if I assure them that they're not to make up for my boyish height?" He finished lacing the skates and stood on the concrete outside of the office. Gus scrambled to his feet and out the door he went, beginning to lock up behind them as Shawn began to skate away.
"Shawn! Shawn, where are you going?"
"Gus, what did I tell you? NBA. Meet me at the SBPD substation, Jules called, some J.B. Sampson guy wants me to look into his past and see who killed his wife. Get with the program."
Player LJ: arcesso
Way to contact you:
Email: live.infamy[at]gmail.com
AIM: live infamy
Are you at least 15?: Y.
Current Characters: Lisa Reisert, Bruce Wayne, Rogue, Lady.
Character: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Character Notes:
History: Shawn was born in Santa Barbara to Madeleine (a psychologist with an eidetic memory) and Henry (an over-eager police officer) Spencer to a long line of Spencer men who had all been police officers. Which made Henry overly eager to teach Shawny how to be one - by the age of fifteen, Shawn could earn a perfect score on the Santa Barbara Police Department's detective's exam. However, Shawn had no interest in that. In fact, he didn't have much interest in anything. He couldn't keep his attention focused on one career path for longer than a week, so he wound up doing odd jobs when he graduated high school - anything that interested him at the time. Which also entailed a very disappointed Henry making his life Hell whenever possible as some kind of sick and twisted and TOTALLY UNFAIR vengeance for not joining the police department. Not that Shawn's bitter - he just doesn't realize Henry's good intentions for IMPOUNDING his only means of transportation because he got in one little motorcycle accident. Anyway, around '92 his parents split and then divorced, Shawn finds out later in life that his mom up and left for a job opportunity and that it wasn't his Dad's fault even though he blamed him forever.
Oh, and then there's this poor kid Gus. Who, through no fault of his own, was probably nice to Shawn once and henceforth gained the title best friend from childhood. Since they were, like, six poor Gus has been pulled into Shawn's shenanigans and usually takes the heat for them. Luckily, Shawn doesn't often get caught. There was that one time, though, when he was 18 and was trying to impress a girl. Stole a car. Apparently grand theft auto sticks with you.
Anyway, it becomes a hobby of Shawn's to watch news coverage of crime scenes and phone in tips of what he observes, because the reward's a nice bit of extra cash in his pocket. However, one tip is so insightful that the SBPD decides that only the guilty party would have known - and Shawn becomes a suspect. Eager to avoid jail, he tells them that he learned the information through a psychic vision. And, they believe him because he goes on to help them solve the case. Since then, he has set up a psychic detective agency, doing the occasional assist for the SBPD (read occasional as frequent) whether he's wanted or not and getting into all kinds of shenanigans with Gus as his partner.
Personality: Shawn is what you might call a pathological liar. He doesn't do well with the truth, and in order to avoid straight up lies, he keeps the focus on other people. Detective work is a good way of doing this. He also does an amazing job of keeping people at a distance, such as Juliet, and high school crush Abigail who he stood up because he was afraid he liked her too much and she'd hurt him after she agreed to go to the carnival with him. He's also very erratic and spontaneous, and his thoughts are generally one big jumble - leading him to make obscure and often times contorted references to pop culture almost constantly. Despite the facade he may put on, Shawn is not a moron - he's actually brilliant, Einstein style, where he's completely eccentric about it. Except Shawn doesn't want to do anything fantastic with his life, he wants to enjoy it.
Other: Shawn is borderline obsessed with pineapples. He likes to give them as gifts, orders everything pineapple-flavored whenever possible and just generally enjoys himself a good pineapple every once in a while, despite his hate for pointy objects. Oh, and he has a photographic memory, inherited from his mother, which is why he's such a bombass psychic detective. He also has perfect aim.
First Person (entry type):
Dude. Dude. Gus, you have to come see this, it's something about ducks and I'm totally having flashbacks to Duck Tales; it's like we're ten years old all over again. Where's my Stretch Armstrong? Whatever.
Point is, I feel like I just stumbled upon the Temple of Doom and you are totally not here sharing my excitement! See, Gus, this is why you have to kick that pharmaceutical company to the curb, they're just taking up your me-time.
Okay, whatever, call me when you get this, Jules is on the other line and I think it's serious because you know how she hates "Don't Stop Believing" and I set that as my ringback yesterday. Black out.
Third Person: Prompt: Orange
"Look, Shawn, I told you; if you're ever going to be a police officer-" And that was about when he stopped listening. Eight years old, it was hard for him to focus on much more than the fact that he wanted that fruit roll up and Henry was still talking about how important it was that he observed his surroundings and took account of them. Of course, it was easy for him to tell his father how many things in the room were orange. He just had to close his eyes and there the room was just like it had been before his father had pulled him back into the kitchen behind the counter where he couldn't see a thing. But, that would mean giving into The Man.
"Six." Shawn threw out his hand, palm up, waiting for his treat while his dad peered over the counter and watched the living room. He opened his mouth to protest and Shawn stomped his feet in aggravation. "The walls don't count, they're rust, Daaaaad." Henry Spencer caved, giving the fruit roll up to his son and nodding with a defeated sigh. A memory like that would have been useful when he was on the force.
Fast forward, more than twenty years later, Shawn was strapping on roller skates on the steps of the Psych office, pina colada fruit roll-up between his lips and a look of discomfort on his face. He could have sworn those skates fit during the roller derby case, his feet couldn't have possibly gotten any - oh. He pulled out his foot, reached in a hand and produced a blue stress ball. He squeezed it and leaned back, tossing it back inside the office and making a perfect basket in the top desk drawer. Gus looked up from his newspaper, expression displeased.
"Shawn, what are you doing?"
"Trying out for the NBA - do you think they'll mind the rollerskates if I assure them that they're not to make up for my boyish height?" He finished lacing the skates and stood on the concrete outside of the office. Gus scrambled to his feet and out the door he went, beginning to lock up behind them as Shawn began to skate away.
"Shawn! Shawn, where are you going?"
"Gus, what did I tell you? NBA. Meet me at the SBPD substation, Jules called, some J.B. Sampson guy wants me to look into his past and see who killed his wife. Get with the program."