We all have that ship. That one. We love them all, we do, and we say we can’t pick, but we can.
The secret shipper isn’t ashamed. The frantic shipper takes their time. The distant shipper gets involved, the casual shipper goes a bit insane. The relationship we adore, for whatever reason. The ship that, when criticized, makes us angry and sad–we feel reflected in that ship, our hopes, our desires. When they say it’s toxic and you either know and don’t care or religeously disagree, but the thought of them two kids fucking warms your heart.
It’s more than that. Most often, you want the fluff, you want the angst, you want to feel like you’re a part of that dream. When they kiss, when they touch, in your minds eye the fantasy is tangible and you feel it, too.
Shipping isn’t pitiful. It’s not sad, not childish. It’s optimism, and yearning, hope and expression. It means a lot to you. Even if it is just a phase, you’ll always remember feeling this way. Reading about them, writing about them, looking at or drawing fan art. Watching their chemistry and dreaming. So sweetly, roughly, kindly, violently dreaming. Keep dreaming. Feel those feelings. You’re alive, more than you have been.
Congratulations, you found it. That one ship.
This.
