VlogBrothers, clashing opinions and gay marriage

Basically, this is the best morning ever; I spent about 3 hours watching VlogBrother videos.

(I suggest you check them out on YouTube.)

But then I came across a… Controversial topic. And it makes me sad that I feel the need to call it a controversial topic.

Hank Green made a video about legalising gay marriage in the state of Carolina. Essentially, he had some common arguments against gay marriage, and argued with them till the cows came home. It’s one of my favourite videos of his.

I then read through some of the comments, which I often do, because I enjoy debating my point across.

But instead of logical debate, I found two groups of people, some for and some against, who, if they were in the same room, would have been shouting and screaming at each other.
There comes a point when you have to accept that other people’s opinion will not change. You personally cannot make someone believe anything other than what they want to believe in and trying to change that will leave everyone bitter.

From my personal perspective, saying that gay people should not be allowed to get married is illogical. It’s denying them a human right and isolating them because they don’t conform to society.
This is not okay.
Surely we are past the point in society where it is okay to isolate anyone?

But that’s my opinion. I do understand why some people may disagree with me. While I may not agree with their perspective, we have to be tolerant of clashing opinions.
It’s not this I have a problem with.

It’s people who are blind to love. People who won’t listen to anyone else and are blunt and cold in their homophobia. If you have no reasonable explanation for your views, then you shouldn’t just comment saying quotes from the Bible that aren’t really relevant.
Not that it was just religious people, but it was the majority.
(And, just FYI, calling someone gay does not constitute as an insult. It isn’t a bad thing to be. Like calling someone a nerd. Not offensive.)

As I said before, it makes me sad that this is a controversial topic. Eventually, everyone will come to understand and accept everyone else for who they are, gay or straight, religious or atheist, nerd or popular. And, instead of forcing our opinions on other people. We can just get on with our lives.

Shannon.

A quick Thank You

I moan rather a lot on here.

I’m a teenager, it’s what we do, right?

But, as I was in the shower today, (you know, that time when the conditioner is sinking in and you have a few minutes spare?) I was thinking about how lucky I actually am.

(I know it’s cliched. Just let me do this. It’s compulsory for bloggers to do at least one of these…)

I am lucky in that I accept myself
Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it, when I just want to change everything about myself. I’m sure lots of people have these moments. Most people, I’m fact.
But, generally, I know what my flaws are, and I accept that that is the way I am.
For example, I know that I will very likely always be a size 12 – 14. That’s the way I am. It doesn’t ever actually bother me that I will never be a size 8 or 10, because it’s not logical; the trousers wouldn’t be long enough! And, even if I was stick thin (no chance of that) then my hips would still be too wide. I’ve long since stopped caring about my body size. And I count my blessings that this is the case. There are so many girls my age who physically hate themselves and the way they look.

I’m lucky in my education
I may not go to a grammar school.

(I don’t. I go to a comprehensive school.)
But the majority of the teachers I’ve had are fantastic!!
I’m in top sets, so my classes have been great, not noises, not naughty. While some of the people in them may… Intimidate me a bit… they’re still cool and don’t muck around in lessons.

The teachers are the best. I suppose this is the same with any school, but they don’t talk down to us, they’re not afraid to tell funny stories and, best of all, they make the lessons fun.
If any teacher from my school ever finds this… Umm…just… Hi?

I am lucky in my family and friends
Occasionally, family can get a bit annoying.

Don’t deny it, this is definitely true.

But my family are supportive, kind, loving and just fantastic. In every way.

My friends… They tease and taunt, but they want the best for me, and I truly appreciate that. From the bottom of my heart. I know it’s a bit cheesy, but I can and do tell them everything, even the things they probably don’t need to know.
And I hope they know that they can tell me anything at all, and I’ll try to be, just, the nicest version of myself that I know how to be.

There are so many other things I am lucky to have,
Like the opportunity to go to the Netherlands.
Like the option to play guitar
My books.

But they all come back to my family.

Thank you, Mum, Dad, family, Teachers, James, Lewis, Rhys, my other wonderful fantastic friends who are, surprisingly, too many to name and I hope they aren’t offended by this.

You are incredible for managing to put up with me and my nonsense.

Shannon.

Shannon’s doing poetry?

The world keeps me awake at night.
The A38 whirring past my window,
There aren’t even any cars.
Its the wind rushing up and down; it can’t make up its
Mind. Does it return to Cornwall, or travel
To destinations
Unknown?
I do not know.

My clock keeps me awake at night.
Ticking in time with my broken heart,
It reminds me that time is passing.
I am still awake but the clock doesn’t care and it
Won’t stop ticking for me. Do I take
Out the battery?
I don’t think so.

My thoughts keep me awake at night.
Wishful thinking is a curse for any girl,
Dreaming about life.
Pondering the meaning of her existence, I don’t think I
Am ready for what the world. Should I stay
And hope some more?
It’s time to go.

To sleep.

(Shannon Brown, 16)

I thought I’d have a go at writing poetry. I’m not sure how good this is, but meh.
Two names at the moment:
‘Insomniac’
Or
‘I wish the world was silent’.

Either work.

Shannon.

Thoughts at 12:05 am on a friday morning.

I don’t even know where to start. I’ve been lying here for ages, but too many thoughts are whirling around my head.

Lets start at the beginning.

I was thinking about myself and traits of mine. About how, in times of great stress, we learn who we are.
Cliched, I know.

Remember me telling you about Ten Tors?
Oh the 2nd day of the event, I found myself walking with our team leader. Personally, I didn’t know him well – he was in the other half of the year – though he genuinely seemed really nice.
I remember actually plucking up the courage to tell him what a fantastic leader he was being, how amazing the team was and how I literally could ‘t have done it without them.
That may seem like nothing, but it’s plagued me since: why don’t I do it more often?

Was it the special circumstances of the experience? It should ‘t have been.
Was it because he was looking like he needed someone to tell him how amazing he was?
Probably.

I should do it more often.
We should do that more often, as a species.
Just… Tell someone that what they do is amazing.

Then there is the problem of my future.
Now problems are relative to the individual, right? I have a friend who feels so much pressure to get A*s in all of her subjects that I can’t bare it, let alone her. I also know people who struggle to get Cs. The enormity of the problem depends on a persons perspective.
I don’t know why I wrote that. I do know it was important though.

I don’t know what I want to do in life.
Very very few 16 year old do!

When ever anyone asks me, I say “medicine”, because I wanted to do that at one point. I have so man things I want to do!
Our P4L teacher said to have a plan B, incase of… Well, life getting in the way.

My plan B is less likely than plan A!

Plan A was always to get 4 A levels, try for Peninsula medical school, get the degree, go and do a post grad in Glasgow.

Plan B was more obscure – Write a book.
I have always wanted to go to Uni, so I am considering a Creative Writing course… Bu it seems so far fetched and illogical; everyone wants to write a story but only a few get theirs published.
This isn’t some stereotypical teenage angst-y dream. I’ve had this… Thought, hope, wish… Haunting me since I was about 7. Ever since a book affected the way I perceived the world. It was a Roald Dahl book.

I have never said aloud the words
“I want to be an Author”
Because it’s such a childish dream.
But it isn’t as simple as just wanting to sell books.
I want to have the same affect on people that other authors did with me. To help them have different points of view, to push them towards original ideas and having their own opinions on things.

I guess if writing is what I am truly passionate about, then I can’t go far wrong.
Right?
A confused Shannon and half past 12am.

The page runs with a thousand words left unsaid

The ink runs with a thousand words left unsaid.

I never could phrase what I wanted to say properly. I was left to be the kind, considerate healer, not the diplomat. Words were -are- not easily spoken for me; it seems as if my mouth gives them a life of their own, so they rebel against my wishes, and do their own bidding.
Writing though…

Writing comes easily to me. Its second nature by now, the right words flowing from mind to pen or keys. There is a simple pleasure in filling a blank page with my childish scrawl, as if I am back at my primary school, making ip endless stories to fill the time.

I always found such comfort in words, whether writing them, or reading them. Such a simple act that has been around for thousands of years, carving symbols into stone. It makes me feel part of something awesome. Something precious and privet.

I am confident when I write. I feel all powerful, like nothing I scratch into paper will sound stupid or wrong.
Yet letting others read what I write…

Even this blog! Its a privet thing; it feels like I’m baring my soul for all to see and judge. I have grown used to it now, though, by exposure.

My Dad once started reading a story I was writing and I got so embarrassed! Because it was personal to me; if he didn’t like it, it was like he wouldn’t like the piece of my heart that I put into it.

Words are my escape. They’re my way into a new person, one with confidence, power, knowledge. One who knows how awesome she is and isn’t afraid to flaunt it.

Then I go back to being me and I lose it.
Someone said to me once that everyone else can see how amazing I am, except for myself.

Is that true of my writing? Because I’m okay with most of it, but I wouldn’t say they were brilliant.

I don’t know…
Shannon.

“And tell me your story” – A Supernatural Fanfiction

Inspired by SuperWhoLocked at Hogwarts’s story called ‘Castiel’s Story’. I loved the idea so much I may have decided to steal it… Sorry. And thanks.
You guys should check it out. It’s here

Anyway…

“And tell me your story”

These were the last words I heard before you threw me down to Earth. No. You wanted to hear my story. And you’re going to. So sit and listen.
Yes, I know I’ve changed. Being mortal for the rest of your life will do that to you. I’ve been told I’m… Sarcastic and cynical now. Sassy, even.

This probably isn’t the tale you expected, Metatron. I think you hoped for something more… Action packed. Lively. Or, perhaps, you knew how my tale would end up. How ordinary and humble the Human life can turn out.

Did you know I’d find a home, Metatron? A simple, plain home with a family, no less. My family.
Thats what makes it special. My -sorry- our Father’s creations take it for granted, everyday waking up to the same faces. In their souls, they believe it’s a monotone existence, fraught with chores and routine.
Yet, when you’ve been living for thousands of years as an Angel… The unconditional acceptance is a rare emotion.
With my odd little family, of two brothers, a now-human Demon, a prophet of the Lord and Charlie, I had a home.

I guess my story starts with Dean.
As it always would have.
You can snicker now, Metatron, but at the time, I had no knowledge of his… Emotions regarding me.

I remember, after I fell – which was the most excruciating pain I have ever felt, by the way. Imagine having your skin removed and then being pushed into a volcano. Then multiply it by a million millions – I woke up on the side of a road. I had no idea where I was, not that this was the main thing on my mind.
My consciousness was… Lost, somehow. As if my vessel, sorry, being was just too big for it. The disoriented feeling didn’t wear off for some time, and I recall a continuous thumping noise coming from my cranium.
I later discovered that this was due to my lack of Grace; as a coping method, I was trying to find something to replace it with. I did manage to, but that comes later in my story.

Somehow, I cannot remember how, I got to the Winchesters. I.. I believe there was a car.. A road.. and.. A woman? But anyway, I got to the Men of Letter’s “Batcave” I believe Dean called it once.
I knocked on the door. It all seems so stupid now, knocking on the door. I hesitated; usually I would just manifest before them. Though I’d seen humans knock on the door before…
Sorry, Metatron, I believe I’ma little off topic.

I didn’t know how to react when Dean opened the door. What would I say to him? The most likely outcome I could conceive was that he’d slam the door back in my face. Heaven knows I’d deserve it.
But he didn’t. Being the true friend I’d always known he was, he embraced me. Shut up Metatron. Of course I hugged him back
You don’t understand the feeling of losing your Grace.

But when Dean hugged me, I felt a similar feeling to the feeling I had when I was still an Angel. I do not understand why you look at me with such disdain. I was a human, and therefore, had human emotions.
I told myself the same thing. I needed an excuse… Angels having – showing– emotions towards their human charges is, apparently, unacceptable. Though I had accepted my humanity, I hadn’t completely come to understand it yet, so I didn’t know how to control anything I… May or may not have felt towards Dean Winchester.

Well, we can both agree on that now! Everyone except us two, blind as we were, could see what connected us.

I spent a few weeks in that bunker, coming to terms with my humanity. I know! I know I said I accepted it… But I kept forgetting to eat, drink, shower and go to the bath room. Everyone helped me, even the Demon Crowley, to an extent.
(He practically chained me down to feed me, but he literally handcuffed me so I would sleep. I woke up with a moustache and glasses drawn on me. I fail to see how that is funny.)

The Winchesters rarely let me go on hunts with them; the still believed that Dean’s “Baby in a trench coat” analogy applied to me.
I hate to say they were right. I tried hunting alone and returned with a half dead vampire, slices down my neck and 2 broken ribs. Truly I cannot understand how my hunter keeps fighting, when the damage done to him by these creatures is extraordinary.

…
Metatron, I honestly could not give two craps about “how funny this is”. It was you who asked for my life story, and the majority of it is me and Dean “pulling our heads out of our asses” as it were. So suck it up.

I guess eventually, after about 4 or 5 months of… I believe Sam called it ‘eye sex’, he must have gotten sick of it.
He forced me to admit to him and Crowley that I had feelings for Dean. That isn’t a conversation I care to remember.

How did I know you’d say that?

Sam pulled me into a room; there were a lot of rooms. I wasn’t sure which one this was. Crowley, the once-a-demon-but-now-thankfully-human, was leering back at me.
“Cas. Our favourite non-Angel.” I didn’t respond. That ass monkey did it a lot. “What, no comeback from God? Cat got your wings?” He drawled to me. Again, I didn’t deign him with an answer.
Sam decided that the tension in the room should probably end. Before someone got hurt.
“Cas, are… Are you okay? I mean, with this whole Human thing? Because God knows-” he stopped when I narrowed my eyes at his choice of phrase. “Sorry,” he continued calmly, ” force of habit. But it isn’t easy being Human, even when you’ve been one for your entire life!”

Crowley jumped on the band wagon, “I agree with the Moose. I’m sure you’re handling this with all the grace you… Well, once possessed, but it must still be achingly tough for you.” Innocent as I was, even I could detect the sarcasm enriching Crowley’s voice.

I hesitated before answering. I’m sure they could see right through me, but I still had to try and cover my tracks.
“I am completely okay. Sure, I’m disoriented and half of the Host of Heaven is looking for my head on a plate, but I am fine.”

I was right.
They easily saw through my bluff.
“What about all these new emotions?” I thought I saw Sam smile slightly, but disregarded it. Yes, I agree. It was a bad idea.

I looked away from the odd pair before me, to gaze off into the distance. I thought I knew exactly what they were talking about.

“What are you talking about?” I asked them. I figured it was better to feign innocence.
I was wrong.

“Don’t play games with us, my decidedly lacking in feathers, feathered friend. The puppy dog eyes you keep giving your hunter are starting to make me sick.” Crowley’s rough voice grew mocking. “I reckon if you just let him shag you – or shag him, I’m not discriminatory- our lives can go quietly back to normal.”

No matter the effort I was going to to grow accustomed to their language, I still wasn’t used to it.
So I kind of spluttered and looked uncomfortable. They’d hit the nail on the head, of course, despite their course language.

“I… I-” I didn’t know how to form a coherent protest that they’d believe. So I just stopped talking, staring shamefully at the floor.

Sam must have noticed this, because he sent Crowley out of the room. I was so thankful to him; he was making me so uncomfortable. Somehow ai was okay with talking to Sam, but funnily enough, I was not about to talk with Crowley the former King of Hell about feelings.

“Cas?” I’d ruined his and his brother’s lives so many times, in so many ways, yet he still wanted to help me. Say what you will about Humans, Metatron, but these two are special.
No, I don’t have a ‘thing’ for Sam too. Now let me tell it.

“Sam… You are right. I want to make things right with Dean, I want to make him feel whole and loved. But I am no longer special…” My voice trailed off. I was so new at these human emotions, though I had grown to recognise my caring towards Dean as more than friendship. I couldn’t praise what I wanted to say, at the time.
Well, of course I can now.
I’d have said that it was because I wasn’t an Angel, I wasn’t useful. Dean needed things to be practical or he’d throw them out. Especially if they became more trouble than they were worth. A former Angel in love with him, but unable to do anything because he doesn’t understand would qualify as ‘too much trouble’ don’t you think?

To my surprise, Sammy snorted. “Cas, he’ll always find you special. Despite all that has happened between you two, don’t you ever wonder why he’s always forgiven you? Why he’ll always forgive you?” He questioned, smugly.
“He always did the same for you… I assumed he still considered me family?”
He laughed upright. “Dean had it drummed into him to ‘always watch out for Sammy’. My brother’s feelings for you run deeper than blood, through his soul. He was distraught each time you were gone. Obviously, he didn’t show it, he never shows anything. But, when he though no one could see, there was a torn expression on his face. I’m serious, it was like a crack in his eyes, as if he were made of glass.” I was about to interrupt, so he continued quickly. “Then, when you came back… It was like his whole world had returned to him. He became the man he was before he even went to Hell. I’m actually a little envious of the place you have in his heart.”

That exact expression on your face, Metatron, was the one on mine.

No don’t say it like that. Like having feelings is something to be ashamed of! It isn’t. One of humanities greatest feats is their ability to love. That was our father’s philosophy and mine too. I feel privileged that I was part of something that special.

Anyway, I couldn’t respond to Sam, because Dean decided to grace us with his presence. He looked suspicious, and rightly so, for we had just been discussing his human side. Which he obviously didn’t want anyone to know about, cuz he’d spent so much time and energy pretending otherwise.

I simply stood there and stared.

Knowing what I did, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything more.
I was not afraid. Stop saying that, I don’t know why you keep saying that.
I didn’t want to scare him. I knew a side of him only his closest kin were knowledgable about. I had to tread carefully, incase I inadvertently forced the shell back up.

Sam left us.

This didn’t make things easier.

“You alright, Cas? You look like hell.” Funny that, considering where he’d been.

I still just stared.

“Uh, Cas? A hint from one Human to another, it’s considered creepy to stare constantly at one another.”

Well, that didn’t stop me. I was searching his face for any signs of affection.

Well, no. I wouldn’t say that. I’d say that he wasn’t giving me the look of Death, so he didn’t hate me. He was… Smiling.
It made me feel happy that he smiled. He rarely smiled.

“So, was that an important meeting everyone but me got invited to?” He sounded irritated, like normal really.

I decided to break my singular staring competition in favour of talking.
Did I confront him about it? Should I? Or did I leave it, never to see what became of this, but not have to risk another lecture on human behaviour? They weren’t very interesting, truth be told.

If I was going to say anything, I should say it right away, right?
True, I have been known for being a bit of a talkative Angel. Well, I was for an Angel.

“Dean, Sam told me something but I am not sure if you’d like it.” I told him, hesitantly. I figured it was best to be cautious about this.

He looked at me sharply. “Whatever he’s done, if he told you, he’s gotta be able to tell me.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t something he’s done. It… It was about… I can’t tell you. It was privet, the deepest part of… someone’s soul that I’m not sure if I have the right to know about. Sam does, but after all I’ve done… I’m not sure if I deserve it.” I was looking a the floor again. I seemed to be doing that a lot recently.
“Cas, tell me. Please.” In that instant, I knew. I knew he loved me. The look in his burning green eyes whispered caring and affection.
And, Heaven help me Metatron, I told him.

No, he didn’t break down and admit anything to anyone. But he also didn’t do the typical Dean Winchester trademark brushing it off, uncaring attitude, either.

He simply said “Yes.”

And that was it.

From then on, things were pretty much the same as usual. Sure, Sam might have protested a bit less when Dean suggested I come on hunts. Crowley started the endless teasing that we all knew was coming; it was endearing actually. It was the only form of entertainment he was allowed (Sam said TV might bring back repressed memories) so we allowed it.

I guess you’re right. Our relationship was practically already there, just without the cuddling or sex. Not necessarily in that order.
I don’t know how to answer that question. It makes me uncomfortable and I’m not sure what you mean by “bottom”. So I’m going to ignore you.

I think I died maybe 10 years after that happened? How was I killed?
Oh. Well thats depressing. Killed hundreds of Demons, vampires and all the rest of it, to die of a car accident. Crap.

I think, maybe it was justice in a way. After all, I guess I had done my share of helping the Winchesters. I had died before, in… Interesting ways. But I had always come back. I suppose it’s justice that the final time I died, it would be tragically boring.

What was that, Metatron? You want to hear more about me and Dean? What is there left to tell?
We hugged. We kissed. We saved each other’s asses. Fair enough, I guess there is more. But you’ll have to wait for Dean’s death, before you hear the dirty gossip.
Everyone but us knew it was going to happen. Dean once told me that it pissed him off that, after years of eye sex and haunting looks along with blatant flirting, we still couldn’t face up to it.

I loved him. I still do. And when he gets his ass up here, though it hopefully won’t be for a while yet, my Heaven will be where ever Dean’s is. That’s where I belong. That’s my place in this messed up universe.

So that’s pretty much my story. Well, the interesting parts of it, anyway. I hope you enjoyed that.
I suppose I should thank you, in some twisted way; if it hadn’t been for your stupid curse, I would never have found peace.

End

Well, that certainly took longer than I expected. About a month, I’ve been trying to write that. I’m pretty pleased with it!!
If you read it, you have my thanks. Feel free to follow me on twitter, @Shannon_Brownie or @PythyandJase . I think this blog will mainly be fiction orientated from now on, so don’t expect and interesting (really boring) tidbits about my life. They’ll be few and far between.
Thanks for baring with!
Shannon.

Why do we ship people??

This may or may not be related to LittleRadge’s youtube video on the same topic.

Shipping, in case you’re not a teenage fangirl, is the idea of two people being in a relationship. This can be friendly, romantic or sexual. It’s mainly romantic.

Without knowing what they’re doing, most people ship characters.
Peeta and Katniss.
Ron and Hermione.
Rose and the 10th Doctor.

And so on.
So why do we do this??

Well, for some it comes from a longing to be in a relationship with one or both of the characters yourself. Oh don’t look at me like that. We’ve all done it. Deep, deep down…
For others, I believe it is possible that the person longs for a relationship like that themselves: if someone says “Oh those two are definitely a couple” about two characters that are merely the closest of friends, then they may wish for a similar experience in their own life.
Or maybe they jug find it ‘really cute’.
It happens.

Slash shipping is the idea of two female characters or two male characters being shipped.
I think fangirls slash ship because its cute. Also, and I may be searching too hard for a reason to ship John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, but most o us are students, studying for some kind of qualification in something English related.
This leads us to read very deeply into books, yes? So, in my opinion, it kind of makes sense that we also read very deeply into potential relationships between a human and an angel…

Anyway, I understand why people may not ship. They may not like the idea of messing around with how the writer/creator of the franchise wanted the characters to be portrayed. Or, they have better things to spend their lives on.
Good on ya! Though I don’t see that future for myself, I fully support you in it!!

However, I personally feel that there is nothing wrong with shipping.
Not that I’m biased.
(I am)

But I believes it makes a show more interesting, even with an already amazing show, if you can picture a hunter loving an angel. Or an angel loving a demon. Or an umbrella and a cane being together.
There is actually fanfiction on that last one. I’ve read it.

Or, maybe its just adorable.

Yeah, lets go with that.
Shannon

Toothache. Again.

Pain is conditional.

What may feel like absolute agony to one person, may only be considered a mere bruise to another.

This doesn’t mean you should look down on someone for being in a lot of pain, when, if you had the ailment they did, you wouldn’t let it stop you doing anything.
You don’t know how much pain they might truly be in. You can only empathise with them, not understand.

My face is quite literally the size of a football right now.
Last year, I had a filling re-done and my face swelled up the . I had root canal and it stopped hurting.
Now apparently, there is a CHRONIC INFECTION under the same tooth, making my left cheek considerably larger and more painful than my right cheek.
Option 1: take a series of antibiotics.
These antibiotics are very strong, so if I have any alcohol while taking them, it will make me very ill. Also, they make me very drowsy and sometimes dizzy. They may also cause hallucinations. So thats nice.
Option 2: if the antibiotics don’t work, then I can have the root canal redone. Although. According to the dentist, it was a good root canal, so it may not make it better the second rime round.
Option 3: have the tooth pulled.
I’m due to have two teeth removed already (I’m so lucky when if comes to my teeth) so on one side of my mouth there would be two gaps, one on top, one on bottom.
I feel like this should bug me more, but I just want the problems to end. This bloody tooth has been causing me trouble for about 3ish years now.

I’ve already missed 2 days of school this week…
Shannon.

Atlantis fan fiction: The things Pythagoras didn’t know

I haven’t had access to facebook for a while, so my views haven’t been going up as much ad I’d like them to.

Anyway, my point is that, if you’re reading this fanfiction, (and I deeply apologise if you have somehow stumbled upon it( i suggest you go back and read some of my more intellectually stimulating posts. Makes for much less worrying reading.
NEW FANDOM ALERT
Yes. I’ve been watching BBC’s Atlantis…
It isn’t quite as good as Merlin, which is the time slot they have taken over, but its good in it’s own way. Anyway, my point is I have a new ship *giggles excitedly* and you’re all going to hate me. Yes, its still slash (a pairing involving two boys) so don’t get your hopes up.

(Set during tonights episode, when Jason is inside the cave, leaving Pythagoras and Hercules outside.)

*Snort snuffle snort*
The sounds coming from Hercules the Pig would have been consider highly amusing, if it were not for the very dangerous situation Jason had found himself in.
Pythagoras sighed. Of course it was going to be Jason! No one else would have been stupid enough, noble enough, kindenough to help out Hercules. Especially as it had been Hercules’s own fault!!
Okay, that wasn’t strictly true. If it hadn’t been for himself and Jason discussing the recently-turned-pig’s lack of a love life with Medusa, none of this would have happened at all.

“I am sorry, Hercules. For what we said. We never meant for you to hear, not that thats the point!” He carried on quickly; how pigs could look dangerous, Pythagoras didn’t really want to know. “We shouldn’t have said anything, really. And you know I wouldn’t usually do anything like that! I guess with Jason I just get carried away…”
Cue big snorrrtttt
Oh great. He had bored Hercules to sleep. Though he had unknowingly just unlocked a floodgate, so the words kept pouring out of him.
“I cannot seem to help myself! Jason seems to make me feel both brave and terrified at the same time. Whilst I have lived a fairly uneventful life, since he crashed through my roof, it has grown increasingly more perilous.” There was a long pause ad Pythagoras tried to form his thoughts into coherent words. Which was difficult, because these were emotions, feelings that he was attempting to turn into a logical sentence.
And everyone knew Pythagoras was best with triangles and numbers, not words and feelings.
“He makes me question things, problems to which the solutions are perhaps immoral but a convention. Or, possibly immoral and unjust problems, with fair yet dangerous and difficult answers.” Another pause, completely bypassing one black, but open eye, belonging to a nearby pig. “I guess I could say he makes me want to better myself? He makes me want to be a better me!” He finished triumphantly.
Though almost immediately, his curled, blonde head fell wistfully back into his long, slender hands, hardened by years of pencils and writing and straight lines. “What does this mean though? I have never been more confused. I feel as though there is something I should be understanding, something so childishly simple. Yet no matter how hard I try, I cannot figure it out.”

At this, Pythagoras finally saw Hercules was awake.
“Did you hear all of that, my old friend?”
The pig nodded his head. Well, that was new. And convenient; they finally had a means of communication.
Pythagoras had the feeling that he should be embarrassed, but, strangely, did not feel anything other than… Curiosity. And worry. An emotion he now was very familiar with, due to Jason’s continuous need to disappear.
Instead, he turned to his friend and asked, “Then what do you think it means?”
Hercules snorted, both because he was oblivious as to how Pythagoras could be so stupid, and because he was a pig, and snorting is what pigs do.
He then proceeded to look rather incredulously at Pythagoras, because he was a pig, and could not communicate beyond yes or no. Stupid genius human.

Pythagoras seemed to understand, because he looked around wildly, and picked up a stick. Which he decided that it would then be a good idea to shove the stick in the general vicinity of Hercules’s mouth.

“Stop struggling, you half drunk pig! Use the stick to draw a shape related to what you think might be causing my… Response towards Jason.”
Wow. The poor kid really had no clue.

Hercules turned round for a moment, before turning back, a smug smile on his face. How can pigs look smug, for Apollo’s sake?!

Pythagoras peered closely at what he’s drawn. He’s seen that shape before.
It was a heart.

Hearts generally signified romance or the soul. It was probably tied in with the idea of a soul mate…
Oh.

Pythagoras choked. “You think I’m in love with Jason?”

The pig nodded.
Before laughing in the form of… Actually, what was that noise? More a sort of… Grunting? Squeaking? A combination of both?

The young genius looked stunned. This was no where near the explanation he had been expecting!
He drew in breath sharply. “I… I don’t..” He tried again, “i do not understand how you came to that conclusion. Either being a pig has addled your brain more than I thought, or you had far too much to drink!” His voice was shaky, but still strong somehow, as though on the defensive.

Even in Hercules’s farm animal state, he could tell that he’d worried the man. It was the only argument that made sense however!
It was the same infusion of feelings he felt around Medusa.

There was a rather uncomfortable pause as Pythagoras tried to digest this face and Hercules thought about how he might offer comfort, considering the state he is in.

Before either of these wishes and hopes came true, Jason ran from the cave, looking, not just as if he’d seen a ghost. But as though the ghost had made a hat of Apricots and danced Gangnam Style in from of him.

Pythagoras started to slowly turn the colour of sun dried tomatoes, while Hercules the Hero turned from a literal pig, back into a metaphorical one. His deep belly laugh e hoed throughout the vally; things were certainly going ro be more… interestingnow that Pythagoras’s little secret had come to the surface…

The End

Um. Sorry about that.
Shannon.

“You can’t relive the past” ~ Nick Carraway

You know what my problem is? What my problem always has been?

I would rather hold desperately on to the past with every fibre of my soul, than start planning a future.

I’ve always been like this.

Take Camp for example. Everyday, I think back over what happened and long for the same things to happen again. I don’t long to go on a new camp, but the same one with the same people.

Because I know I enjoyed it? Because its familiar? No.
Because I am scared of something new.

I would rather cling hopelessly onto a love that never was, than go out looking for someone else.
I don’t want someone else.

I would rather read the same comforting books a hundred times. But this makes sense.
They are comforting! When I feel list, alone, abandoned, they’ll always provide a safe haven.
Shannon.