“Mm. Here, open this. You know I can always predict the fortune cookies.” [laughing] “No you can’t.” “No, I really can. Look. I already know what this one will say.” “Yeah? What will it say?” “It will say, John Watson, you are the absolute love of my life and I want to spend the rest of forever with you.” “Tall order for a fortune cookie. Don’t they usually say things like, you will be lucky in business, or, listen to your own wisdom, or bollocks like that?” “Usually, but this is a good one. Open it.” “All right, all right, I’m opening it.” “…John?” “Sh–Sherlock.” “What do you think?” [tearing up] “Sherlock, you absolute loon. How the heck did you get a fortune cookie that says this?” “The internet. What do you think, John? Will you?” “Yes, god yes, Sherlock, I–I love you, of course I want to marry you–come here.”
This is the “free speech bus.” Run by a gaggle of homophobic religious groups, it kicked off a trip on the East Coast this week to try to convince the world that transgender people aren’t real.
Guess how long it took before it got vandalized: one day. Whoops.
It’s almost as if when you embark on a road trip specifically to harm and dehumanize other people, those people and their friends will push back! Some great observations from Twitter:
“How can you ship that, it’s toxic!” is honestly a question that makes no sense to me.
Like, “How can you eat that, it’s spicy!”
That may make you not want to eat it, and I respect your decision. But you’re going to get a bit of a blank look from me.
To continue the metaphor;
Places that serve spicy food (that I have been to) tend to make note of that on their menus, and occasionally note how spicy it is as well.
Sometimes you’ll order a dish and take a bite and say ‘oh, this is hotter than I was expecting.’ At that point, some people will continue to eat it anyway. Maybe they’ll find out that they enjoy it. Some people will have their eyes start to water and they’ll need to eat an entire basket of breadsticks after to get rid of the taste. Some people might offer it to someone else at the table and get another dish that they like better. Those are all reasonable responses to getting food you weren’t expecting.
What you don’t do is order the hottest dish on the menu, and then complain how spicy it is.
Boom.
AFAICT “shipping” has this connotation of “what’s best for the characters” so watching people defend ships that are toxic/unhealthy/abusive/whatever because they’re interesting (and they very well can be) always feels like watching people repeatedly use words slightly wrong and then wonder why they’re misunderstood.
Wait, how am I using words slightly wrong? Am I doing that when I write fic, too?
If so, *uses all the words wrong*
When people say “how can you ship that, it’s toxic” they might be wrongly over generalizing a distaste for “spicyness” into an objective rule, but more often (imo) they’re leaning on certain connotations of shipping: that it’s something one does when one is emotionally involved with a character and wants to see them happy and thriving in a certain relationship (which is obviously anti-thetical to “spicy” ships, given that spicy = toxic here). I say “slightly wrong” because ignoring connotations really isn’t wrong, but at the same time it’s really not surprising that both sides are somewhat mistified at what the other side is even saying.
If people who want “spicy” ships were to consistently say “I think this relationship would be entertaining to watch/read about” instead of “I ship this relationship” I don’t think there’d be nearly half the discourse about this.
That operates from an assumption that the “right” connotation is “shipping means wanting to see a character in the relationship best for them” and not “shipping means wanting to see a character in the relationship most interesting to me.”
I have always assumed people ship things because it’s interesting to them. When did it ever become “what’s best for them”?
No, really, that’s a question – I’m an old school fandom denizen and shipping used to be something you defended on the basis of you liked reading XYZ, or maybe canon supported more interaction of A + B, or at closest the argument that C + D would balance out or cause redemption for one of them, but I can’t say I’ve ever assumed that even the last bit meant “best/healthiest” because it’s not. It’s interesting to me the reader.
To “ship” is short hand slang. I feel like assuming it means “best/healthiest” is reading a lot into what someone else is saying. Also assuming someone wants to see a character happy and thriving is sort of counter to every fanfic author or reader who likes putting the characters through the wringer. I might like a happy ending, but I want 100k of wringer squeezing, angst, hurt, and agony first.
I think, really, shipping is “what makes the character tastiest to me”, and the default vanilla kind of flavour is “what makes the character happiest and healthiest”. This is the kind of flavour I like, so I very very rarely ship ships that “taste” any other way–for me, “shipping” is usually synonymous with “wanting the character at their happiest and healthiest”.
But those of us who like vanilla need to remember that ours is not the only flavour preference, and other flavour preferences aren’t wrong.
@szhmidty I’m not sure how long you’ve been in fandom, but in my twenty-ish years floating around various fan communities, it’s only very recently and in very limited Tumblr circles that I’ve seen people using the term “ship” to refer exclusively to healthy relationships. Browsing through the notes on this post, longer-term fans all seem to agree that “ship” has traditionally meant putting characters together for any reason that seems interesting – not necessarily as representation of an ideal or healthy relationship.
Yeah, this. “I ship it” has a huge variety of meanings. For me, it can mean anything from “So what if they’ve never met? They’d be hot together!” to “Oh man they could break each other to pieces, I need to read that” to “What if?” to “wow, I never even thought of that before but that art is GORGEOUS” to “obviously they need to be together forever.” It says nothing about whether I think the releationship is healthy. It says nothing about whether I think it’s ever going to be canon. Fiction isn’t only wish-fulfillment or morality plays, it’s a lot richer than that. So many flavors all immersed together, so rich and complex. Like a good vindaloo – you appreciate the complexity even while your eyeballs are melting just a little. (I crave spicy food like air.)
I once read that “I ship it” is shorthand for “I think there’s a story there, and I’m interested in that story.” It doesn’t make a statement on what kind of story it is–a lovely romance unfolding, or dirty fucking, or two people being manipulative toxic shits to each other. Those are all interesting stories, and some people are going to like some of those stories more than others.
I still think it’s hilarious that the reason nobody ever figures out Superman’s secret identity or where he lives or what he does when he’s not saving the planet, is because he already told them all the Kryptonian stuff that can’t be tied to any of his human friends or family. I guarantee you the in-universe wikipedia article on Superman lists his name as Kal-El and the “personal life” section says that he lives full-time at his private fortress of solitude at the north pole. Nobody in the world looks at Clark Kent and thinks “oh my god, maybe he’s superman!” for the same reason nobody ever starts to suspect that their coworker who looks KINDA like Barack Obama is actually secretly Barack Obama – They know who Barack Obama is and know what he does and they know their coworker Greg is Greg and not Barack Obama. They have no reason to assume Barack Obama secretly moonlights as Greg The IT Guy at their workplace even though they’ve never seen Greg and Obama in the same place. At best, “Greg is secretly Obama” would be a running joke at the office, and the same is true at the Daily Planet. “Kal-El of Krypton, who lives in a CRYSTAL PALACE at the NORTH POLE and whose dayjob is SUPERMAN, sometimes puts on a suit and pretends to be a clumsy reporter and lives in a one-bedroom walkup in Metropolis” is a ridiculous concept to anyone who doesn’t already know it’s true
[From Max Landis’ amazing “American Alien” series about Superman.]
SO GOOD
SCREAM 👏🏻 IT 👏🏻 TO 👏🏻 THE 👏🏻 BACK 👏🏻 SO EVERYONE 👏🏻 CAN 👏🏻 HEAR
His shit eating grin in the last one sells it
I love the idea of Clark Kent turning up to every office Halloween party in an ill-fitting Superman costume from Target.
Still one of my favorite clips from Superman: The Animated Series.
This has gotten bigger since I last saw it ant that’s FANTASTIC
Henry Cavill literally once stood in Time Square, in a superman t-shirt, under a giant poster of himself and no one recognised him, even though he was actively trying to be recognised.
im weirdly knowlagable in the history of soda i dont even drink soda why do i know so much about it
coke and pepsi taste different because coke was invent before refrigeration so it was designed to be drunk warm, while pepsi was designed after refrigeration was invented so it was designed to be drunk cold. as a result the tastes are different but if you drink pepsi cold and coke warm theyll taste the same.
Why the fuck do you know this
i honestly have no idea
coke’s recipe was originally green but the designers made it brown so it looked more like tea
Had they never seen green tea?
i dont even know if green tea was invented in 1886 but they wanted to make the public more open to eating the fizzy drink
i will trade u information abt bees and carrier pigeons for information abt the history of soda
no one knows where the origin of the name ‘7up’ started but it did have a mood stabilizer in the original recipe found in present day anti-depressants
i want facts about bees and carrier pigeons now
Carrier pigeons come from a species of Wild Rock pigeon, and their flights could be as long as 1800 km and were used as early as 3000 years ago.
You know in old cartoons where a character throws a beehive at someone, and you think ‘lol, but that wouldn’t work in real life’. Turns out it would, and did. People used to lob beehives at the approximate location of the enemy forces to expose them.
It is the year after the Battle of Hogwarts. School is starting again. And the thestrals are confused by all of the attention they are getting.
oh
oh no
you BITCH
WHY IS THIS NOT A THING I’VE CONSIDERED?
No. NO. Sit the fuck down, we’re going to talk about this.
The year after the Battle of Hogwarts. Students nervously climbing into the carriages (no first years, thank god, no one wants to think about that) and eyeing the creatures in front of them. Is this some sort of stunt? Like a memorial?
Hagrid showing the fifth years the thestrals. He wonders if he should, if this is asking too much, but he thinks it would be wrong to keep the truth from them. There are more in the class who can see them than those who can’t.
He wakes to a knock on his door after nightfall. For a second he thinks it’s those three again, but no, that’s not right. He shuffles to the door, holding Fang down behind him, and finds a wide-eyed second year on his doorstep. They came to ask about the horses.
Hagrid isn’t one to turn someone away, so he ushers the child inside and puts the kettle on. He explains they’re not quite horses. They’re gentle creatures, really. Yes, you have to…you have to have seen things to see them, too. But they wouldn’t do anyone harm.
Can he see them? Why, yes, he can, has for the longest time. Ever since his Dad…ever since…
Hagrid stops for a moment, unable to speak. But the child at his table waits patiently, understanding. This is not the first time they have heard someone’s voice catch on the words. It’s reassuring, somehow, hearing an adult share the same problem.
They drink a pot of tea before Hagrid sees the kid back to the school, Fang loping along beside them. It’s reassuring to have these two massive, almost comical forms tromping to the front door. Safe.
Hagrid warns not to go out after dark again. If you want to visit, come along any time in the day.
The next time he opens his door, there are three. Third years, this time. They know a little more, more than they ought to, he thinks. Makes him feel nostalgic.
He sits them down as before and has a long talk. They’re less open, keep glancing at each other as they speak, but he can see they have questions. It’s just a matter of waiting them out.
This goes on for weeks. Hagrid sees a steady stream of students at his door until he’s sure at least half the school has walked across his mat at some point. One day McGonagall approaches him and suggests a change in the curriculum. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to move a few things up on the syllabus? If he’s willing, of course.
Hagrid leads more students into the forest. He sees their faces, eyes wide with fear, as they see the creatures in the light of day. He patiently explains that they’re quiet animals, don’t much like a lot of noise. Easier to manage, certainly. That’s why they pull the school carriages.
He finds taking them once isn’t enough. Students keep asking to see the thestrals. Bewildered, he takes them back again and again, watching as the kids sidle up to stroke the long, black wings. They hold out bits of meat to the sharp beaks and whisper calming words under their breath.
Gradually, the looks of fear subside into something else. More than once he hears someone say these things are all right. Kids show up at his doorstep to ask about what he does and what kinds of animals he’s seen. Someone even says they might like to be a teacher like he is someday.
He doesn’t know what to say to that. His eyes glisten and he makes a sound like a trumpet as he blows his nose. He hears a giggle when he knocks over the umbrella stand with his elbow.
Things have changed, he thinks. He leads children into the forest because they ask, not because they’ve been punished. Students are clambering to get into his classes when it used to be seen as a last resort. People don’t stare up at him with suspicion or fear when he walks the halls these days.
They aren’t afraid of monsters anymore. They fear the people who become them.
holy shit, woman
d u d e
This is beautiful. I hate just a little bit. But, DAMN, this was beautiful.
Beltainefaerie's Flights of Fancy 