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itsmoonpeaches · 3 years

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The Ocean Meets the Sky

Chapter 2: Together

Please note: Every prompt for this Kataang Week connects into an over-arching story.

Prompt: Blending Cultures

Story summary: After his battle with Fire Lord Ozai, something lingers within Aang's spirit. Katara is the one that pulls the seams back together. No matter what, Aang and Katara find each other.

Chapter summary: The day was beautiful, the sun high and bright and hopeful. Almost a signal to signify the start of new, brilliant things.

The day started out softly, quietly, on the outskirts of sunrise. It was the calmest Katara had ever felt in her whole life. Light streamed through the slit between the heavy curtains, a line of gentle yellow hues. It cast a sweet shade of peacefulness upon her as she got ready for the day.

Or, Katara, Aang, and their friends share a feast.

Written for @kataang-week

Read on ao3 or ffn.

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The day was beautiful, the sun high and bright and hopeful. Almost a signal to signify the start of new, brilliant things.

The dawn before Zuko’s coronation was a marker for the beginning of her real life. The kind of life where war did not exist.

She had made it out alive. She survived. She was always a survivor, but this time it was different.

As a child she never thought that the world would ever reach this point, that she would reach this point. It seemed impossible to a fault. Katara was a master waterbender, she had a group of friends from different nations, she was a world traveler. They were all things that helped define who she was now. They were things that she had only ever dreamed of before.

A kind of giddiness filled her when she thought of all the possibilities. That joy and lightness only increased when she finally pushed open the door for her chambers and stepped into the gilded corridor outside.

The Fire Nation palace was not a place she would have called magnificent, especially before, but it had a sort of regal grace to it that she now noticed. It was a helpful bonus that she and her friends resided in the palace for the past few days in preparation for the event that would define their generation.

The wind from the tall, unlatched widows that lined the halls swept past her. A sense of freedom came over her, like she was floating above the world and seeing pinpricks of miniature people below her. If this was what being an airbender was like, she suddenly understood why Aang was the free spirit he was.

She heard his laugh as she neared the entrance to the kitchen, and her heart swelled for him.

When she opened the door, she was met with the sight of his back to her. He was clothed in muted red Fire Nation garments while he waited for the new robes that he would wear for the coronation ceremony later in the afternoon to be ready for him. He stood there, chopping skinned lychees into smaller pieces on a chopping board, humming a song she did not recognize to himself.

A frazzled-looking middle-aged woman with an apron and a disheveled topknot fretted around him like a bee buzzing over a flower. “Oh, please, Avatar Aang…please let me do the cooking!” she begged, clasping her hands together and practically about to fall prostrate on her knees.

Aang chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s baking, Aika,” he admonished good-naturedly. “Besides, today’s a special day!”

To her credit, Aika did try to coax him into letting her do the work herself, but Katara interrupted them with a cough as she stepped through the entryway.

Aang straightened at the sound of the door sliding closed. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Good morning, Katara!” he said with an enthusiastic tone. “Here for the feast?”

She laughed, walking toward the stove. “You’re here early,” she observed. She started searching through the cabinets for a pot. “I have to say I’m a little concerned over what Sokka has planned,” she mentioned, tossing the comment at him with a levity that she had not felt in years.

“He mentioned something about replicating arctic hen yesterday.”

Katara grimaced. “I don’t know if I trust him with that,” she said. “I’m making seaweed noodles. Hopefully that will cover up whatever mistakes Sokka wants to create.”

For the next few minutes, they worked in tandem, side-by-side. The way they danced around each other in the kitchen, from moving at just the right moment when someone was grabbing for a bowl, to blatantly ignoring the cook who desperately wanted to assist, it felt like they were exactly where they were meant to be. Like they were always together, always comfortable, always understood.

Katara liked it…being by Aang’s side.

It was easier to think of things like that now that the war was over. She glimpsed Aang from the corner of her eye as he made his way around a mixing bowl, stirring ingredients to make dough. The way the soft light framed his face made him look just like the boy she knew he was, the person she knew he would become. She felt the blush that rose in her cheeks and swiftly turned to focus on the dried seaweed that she mixed into her dish.

As time trickled by, more and more of their friends arrived. Toph and Sokka were more bleary-eyed than Suki and Zuko who were more awake than Katara thought should have been allowed.

Aika was groveling at Zuko’s feet as soon as he entered. He held a pot of steaming tea that he looked rather proud of himself for having.

“Oh, Prince Zuko, please forgive this lowly servant for—”

Zuko himself simply raised an eyebrow at her before cutting her off. “You could set us a table, Aika. That would be helpful,” he suggested.

Aika snatched the teapot from him with a bow. When she left with such haste that there was a stunned silence in her wake, Zuko added, “What? She likes feeling useful and she wasn’t going to leave any time soon.”

After a moment, movement resumed. Katara and the others continued their work, some finishing quickly. Aang was already sitting at the island in the center of the kitchen when half an hour passed, his hands and arms covered in flour. There was some that dusted the side of his nose. He was watching the clay oven and would occasionally stand to regulate the flame underneath with his firebending.

Toph stood there nodding or shaking her head with each taste she was offered from Suki. Zuko had taken it upon himself to cook on one of the many stoves that was closest to Sokka. Katara appreciated his foresight because Sokka had begun to raid the pantry for spices that he clearly did not need.

Then, a handful of hours later when it was midmorning, everyone was ready with their food. Just in time, Aika was at the door ready to lead them. Katara took her pot of noodle soup, careful with the handles, and followed behind.

In a sitting room not far from the kitchen was a rather extravagantly set table with polished chopsticks and porcelain plates with high backed chairs that had intricate carvings of dragons. The teapot was in the center, standing atop a short pedestal with a lit candle beneath it to keep it warm. Matching cups were set around it.

They all set out the dishes, laughing and smiling when they sat down to eat.

Katara and Sokka had made traditional dishes from the Southern Water Tribe: seaweed noodles and an unfortunate botched version of arctic hen that Katara was sure was burned at the edges. (And probably burned in the center too.)

“This is jook,” presented Suki, sweeping her arm out to gesture at her pot of food. “It’s boiled rice porridge. You can add any of the garnishes Toph and I prepared. There’s ginger, salted eggs, and bamboo shoots.”

Katara saw Zuko give the porridge an odd look.

Toph shrugged. “I didn’t really help, but I can tell you it tastes good.”

Zuko nodded to his dishes. “I’m not the best at cooking, but I made something easy…Komodo sausages. There were already prepared. I just fried them.” He smirked and pointed at a dish next to it. “I’m pretty proud of making this though…it’s taro leaves with coconut milk and chilies. My mom used to make it.”

Content with the introductions, all of them started to eat. Katara was suddenly so aware of the fact that they could openly sit here in what used to be enemy territory to share their cultures with each other. She was able to try food that she never would have if she was still living in the Southern Water Tribe.

The jook was a perfect blend of starchy textures and the snap of ginger. Zuko’s contributions added a spicy kick that she was not used to, but she appreciated the smooth blend of hot and cool that the taro leaves offered.

When the meal ended, her gaze set upon Aang who had stood up. He glowed with excitement, and the thought of him sharing his culture with them made her eyes water. Air Nomad cuisine was special, not only because there was one Air Nomad left, but because it was part of Aang.

“I’ve always wanted to share this with you guys,” said Aang with a grin. He gestured to the spread laid out on the table. Katara giggled when she noticed that he pointedly ignored the horrified expressions that cycled along the cook’s face who had tried to help him with the reveal. “An authentic Air Nomad fruit pie! Oh boy, Monk Gyatso and I used to airbend these onto the Council of Elders. He said that it was to test my reflexes, but I always thought it was hilarious when Dote said that it was really to test their reflexes.”

His hand made a whirl of air above the round pie, and a bouncy top of swirled yellow cream appeared at the center. He cut into it with a knife, offering pieces to everyone.

Katara let the taste of sweet lychee settle on her tongue. “This is delicious, Aang!” she exclaimed.

He smiled at her. “I’m glad,” he replied. The answer was bittersweet somehow. He took a bite, and he looked lost in thought, rubbing the back of his head in a constant, subconscious motion.

Katara was worried for him. She placed a hand on his, hoping another kind expression from her would urge him to bring up his mood.

“I just wish Gyatso was here,” Aang informed her in his quiet way.

“I know,” she said, just as quietly. “But in a way…he is here. He taught you how to make this.”

For a while that was all Aang needed to hear.

It was a simple thing from then to go to the coronation. Their stomachs were full; a warmth was there because of it. The bustling crowds were not a hindrance when all of them had spent the time they needed with each other before the world needed them again.

Katara had put on her best clothes, and she stood in the courtyard near Sokka and their father. She watched as Zuko was introduced as Fire Lord, as he officially announced the end of the war, as Aang walked up to the forefront in his new Air Nomad robes, a golden beacon of faith and peace.

He gazed out into the crowds below, and she could not take her eyes off him.

“The war is over!” people yelled over and over. It was thrilling and it felt like an illusion that could not possibly be true. But Katara basked in it anyway.

There were celebrations commencing right in front of the palace as soon as the Fire Sages had adjourned the coronation. People shouted their praises, dancing to tunes only they could hear. She searched for her friends, wading through the people from all over the world, blending cultures in a fashion they had ever gotten to before.

She saw a flash of yellow, and she reached through the armor and the fabrics that separated her from it. She caught Aang’s sleeve.

She met Aang, who looked both happy and exhausted. A tiredness around his eyes that no one else seemed to have. He rubbed the back of his head. Too many people were talking at him, over him, trying to get his attention. She grasped his shoulder and leaned in. “Let’s get out of here,” she whispered in his ear.

He looked at her and she saw an understanding there and gratefulness.

He took her hand. His eyebrows scrunched together. He raised his free hand to his temple.

Then, without warning, he looked scared. Terrified even. He turned his head as if searching for something, but unable to find it.

He gripped her hand tighter, and his eyes flashed into a daunting purple light.

#kataang week 2021 #kataang week #kataang #kataangtag #katara #aang #itsmonpeaches fanfic #atla #atla fanfic

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2ns-fanfic · 7 years

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In His Own Time

Sokka intercepts Hakoda before he confronts Aang and Katara at the Moon Festival about the status of their relationship and explains how deeply connected they are. This fits about a year before the beginning of "My Heart in My Pocket" and sets up the confrontation that ultimately will lead to their betrothal. Kataang Week 2017, “unconditional” prompt.

Rating: T; 1,557 words

Hakoda sat at the end of the table fuming. For six years, he’d had scores of offers for Katara’s hand, and for six years, she had brought Aang home with her for every wedding, every festival, and each time, they seemed more familiar with one another. All through dinner, he’d watched them, and he’d watched the other members of the tribe watch them. He’d watched Katara coax him into trying dish after dish, her chopsticks sometimes carrying bites from her own plate to his lips. He saw the way her entire body leaned into his, the way Aang turned his face into her ear to whisper to her, the way she smiled when he spoke to her. He saw the way Aang pressed her body into his when they danced in the council hall, one hand just below the small of her back, and how he gathered her hand to his chest over his heart, like it was precious. He saw the way she swung her body as they swayed, teasing him with her nearness, her loose hair tumbling down her back, and the hungry look she gave back to him when their eyes met, both of them oblivious to the world around them. Worse, he heard the malicious whispers that the members of his tribe barely made an effort to hide, full of innuendo and scandal, suggesting that chief’s daughter’s virtue had been stolen by the Avatar . . . and that they didn’t even have the decency to try to hide it.

Katara and Aang sat on a rabbit-seal pelt between two raging fireplaces, almost hidden in the velvety shadows cast by the raging flames. Aang’s back was propped against the wall, and Katara had snuggled into his chest between his legs, her hand lazily stroking the length of his thigh. Hakoda saw Aang draw the back of his fingers down the side of Katara’s face, allowing the thumb to caress the side of her neck, stopping just above Katara’s necklace. Katara reached up, lacing her fingers in to his, and when she looked up at him, the flickering light and dancing shadows played off the contours of their faces as Aang dipped his head to kiss her, his slow kiss deepening into something more passionate.

Hakoda had had enough. He rose abruptly from his bench, but a heavy hand fell immediately on his shoulder.

“Yeah, you don’t want to do that.” Sokka took Hakoda’s elbow and guided him in the other direction.

Annoyed at the interruption, Hakoda asked, “I don’t want to do what?”

Sokka flicked his gaze from Hakoda and back to Katara and Aang pointedly. “Leave them be. The man damn near died two days ago in an ambush by some Ozai supporters, and they barely got out. To say the least, Katara’s emotions are running high, and if you confront them, Katara’s likely to explode in the middle of the council hall.”

Hakoda scowled. He knew better than to tempt Katara’s temper. “I don’t like it. Practically every man of marriageable age has asked for her hand, and she won’t accept any of them. She seems set on the one man who won’t propose.” Hakoda crossed his arms and leaned into the wall at the back of the hall.

Sokka glanced back at Aang. “He will when the time is right . . . or he won’t if there’s never adequate peace between the nations. He carries the weight of the Avatar’s office and won’t put down his responsibilities. You should understand what that feels like.” Sokka ignored Hakoda’s glare, shrugging. “There are precisely three things in Aang’s world: Katara, the ground beneath her feet, and the air she breathes. Everything else fits between them. Aang feels personally responsible for the suffering caused by the Fire Nation. I don’t think he will ever settle down and start a family until he can be sure that the world will be safe for their children.”

Hakoda snorted in derision. “At this rate, they won’t marry until they are Kanna’s age. Katara could have a good life here . . . I don’t understand why she hangs on to him when he has no intention of offering her an honorable marriage. This . . . dalliance . . . sullies her honor and our names.”

“Katara will never leave him . . . in her heart, I don’t think it matters to her anymore if they ever marry. I’m sure she thinks about it and wants it, but not having it doesn’t change how she feels about him. She accepts who he is and accepts her place with him, whatever form it takes.”

“I don’t accept it. He’s preventing her from living the rest of her life.”

Hakoda started to walk away, but Sokka grabbed him roughly and drug him back. “He is the rest of her life. If you confront them, you will alienate her. It will drive him away in shame, and it will break her heart. She will never leave him—he needs her at his side, and it’s the only place she knows who she is.”

“Then why won’t he propose?” Hakoda’s furious hiss carried, and several heads turned their way. The bystanders guessed what the chief was arguing with his son about, and they smirked knowingly and elbowed one another, laughing.

“If he proposes, you can say no, and that will be the end of it. I don’t think he will risk losing her.” Sokka nodded in their direction. Both of Aang’s arms were now wrapped tightly around Katara, her head resting on his shoulder and her body cradled in his arms. They swayed slightly in time as Pakku sang an ancient ballad from the North in the center of the hall. From across the room, they could see her smile as they talked, and when she reached up a hand to cup Aang’s face, he had closed his eyes, content. “If you push this, you will lose her.”

Sokka continued, “She has pulled him back from the edge of death more times that she can probably count, and she knows that one day, he may not come back, but she stays. She herself has escaped the spirits’ call way more times than you know about, but she stays. There’s no rest and no reward for being with him—it’s a lot of long days of negotiating and running and fighting, but she stays. He has nothing—no family, no nation, no home, but she stays. Believe me, she sees the sly looks the women give her and hears the nasty comments about Aang and her honor . . . some of the women in the tribe go out of their way to be particularly cruel . . . but she stays. I think she knows that he may never propose, and that her hand may never rock a cradle with his child, but she stays. Believe me when I tell you that there is no condition under which she would willingly leave him . . . nothing he could do that would alter in the slightest her devotion to him.” Sokka looked directly into Hakoda’s eyes. “Honestly, Dad, he deserves her devotion—every decision he makes is about Katara first and foremost, and she is what he lives for.

“Aang would walk away completely broken if you confront them—he loves her enough that he will leave her if you tell him it would make her happy or be in her best interest. But if you think that Katara would ever consider taking another man while Aang still draws breath,” Sokka shook his head, “you don’t know her at all. I don’t honestly think she would take another man even if Aang did stop breathing.

“You weren’t there when he died in Ba Sing Se, but I was. If she hadn’t been able to bring him back, she wouldn’t have survived it. If she had, she would have spent what remained of her life hunting Azula to the ends of the earth. Trust me, you don’t want to do this. Let Aang come to you in his own time.”

When Sokka turned to look at them again, Katara’s eyes were closed and she had reached an arm up, her fingers curled around the back of Aang’s neck. She was drowsing in contentment, a sleepy smile on her lips, basking in the warmth of the fire and the comfort of her beloved’s arms. Sokka smiled. “Ignore the whispers and the jealous complaints of the tribe—it’s not their concern. Let them be happy.”

I hope you enjoyed the story--I love getting reader feedback. Please visit the story on fanfiction.net to leave me comments: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12567984/1/In-His-Own-Time

I also posted a new chapter to my longer story, My Heart in My Pocket, this morning. You can read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12535152/1/My-Heart-in-my-Pocket

#kataang-week #kataang week #kataangtag #avatar: the last airbender #avatar: tla

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mrmallard · 7 years

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I’ve been a bit harsh on some things over the years. I wrote a particularly scathing attack on DD/LG stuff that I genuinely went too far with (even as I continue to inch away from kink stuff in general due to evolving tastes), I wrote a scathing Man of Steel calling it a punchy, grimdark piece of shit that earned me a death threat, and early in my blog’s history I wrote a fair few anti-SJW things that was more railing against the idea of over-sensitivity and cherrypicking words to attack someone rather than supporting the rights of people. I still have an issue with people cherrypicking words and throwing a person’s combined history at them to break them down, and while I still believe in the good that social justice blogging is aiming to do, I also spent more than enough time in that circle and I can’t tolerate the always-on, ever-upset atmosphere that drains the energy out of you one blog-post at a time.

This is about none of that. I’ve made my peace with those subjects. But there’s one thing that I haven’t budged on - If anything, I’ve gotten more hard-line about it as of late.

I cannot stand fandoms where people think it’s okay to attack each other, like feral children biting each other until someone draws blood. Fandoms have been going sour for me for a few years now, but it’s only recently that it’s been hitting a tipping point - thanks in most part to Sherlock and the continued campaign of rabid Johnlock shippers.

The following post will be my diatribe about rabid fandom and how they actively hurt their shows. Expect SuperWhoLock and Avatar: The Last Airbender shenanigans.

First of all, a disclaimer: I’m not against all fandoms, and while I’m going to be going after a gay ship, I’m not homophobic. Because surprise surprise, you can think someone is being a massive assholish baby about Johnlock and care about/support gay or queer issues. You can read anything you like into what I say, but if you’re going to break me down for being an ignorant redneck or what have you, please note that a harsh opinion on a fictional ship and its fanatical following isn’t tantamount to saying “gay people have enough good things, and they still want more? Ungrateful little sods.” I only call out rotten behavior because it is rotten. I’m also not against the ships themselves, moreso the idea that it is THE ship and you are OWED the ship and not getting the ship legitimized is DEGRADING and DECEITFUL. That is a trait that applies to ships of all orientations.

I’ve also been in a few fandoms in my day, and I still interact closely with some splinter groups of fans. I’m a big Evangelion fan, I read Questionable Content and have since I was 13 and I’ve been posting in a forum about said webcomic since 2012. So please - don’t take what I say as a sweeping critique of all fandoms, or all fans. Because there are fanbases that are polite or small enough not to be fucking crazy and legitimately harmful to the people around them.

So with my opening statements out of the way, let’s dive into the face-meat of this post - Sherlock is about as toxic as it was three years ago, and has managed to garner an even crazier conspiracy squad full of elitists, loudmouthed “enlightened” fans and ridiculous degrees of fan-wank. It’s gotten so bad that I hear Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are getting pretty fed up with the constant hate.

Tell me - what is particularly sane or healthy about obsessing over a non-existing “true” finale of the show, the date of which was derived from taking letters from a show’s credits, breaking them into numerical equivalents and multiplying them to get a date and time? Shows don’t do that. Network shows definitely don’t do that, and very rarely do they disrupt their planned broadcasts - especially for a hardcore contingent of fans who have been harassing them for years. What makes you think that you, a driving force in crazy, is so deserving of a hidden fourth episode that the BBC has to fuck their other programming over to appease? You aren’t. No-one is. Maybe a crazy Netflix show could do that, since digital distribution is a lot less committal than network television, but it hasn’t happened yet and it wouldn’t happen on a broadcasting station as established as the BBC.

The very thought of a real-world conspiracy to “reward” shippers for their diligence and patience, made in the face of Moffat and Gatiss explicitly stating “IT’S NOT HAPPENING”, is nothing more than entitlement. You feel entitled to John Watson and Sherlock Holmes smooching, you want it to happen so badly that you would weave subtext and hidden clues out of thin air and screech when the actual showrunners shoot it down - I mean there’s nothing wrong when that context is shared and agreed upon among the fandom, but when you throw it in a producer’s face as “OBVIOUSLY canon” and try to destroy the show by mass-complaining through the BBC’s official complaint form because the showrunners didn’t legitimize it, that’s a massive fucking problem that stems from entitlement. They’re either wrong about their own creation, or they’re hiding something that only you and your friends, the true fans who rebel against the filthy Casuals™, would understand, and you rally behind them to say “It’s okay, the world is ready for Johnlock!”, to coax them to part with their precious love-baby and to show your support.

But there’s no fucking love-baby. There never was. It was a fan reaction that continues to spiral into insanity every day because you think these two are so right for each other that the thought of them not fucking is offensive to you.

The “original sin” that broke me out of fandom happened here on Tumblr, in 2013. You remember Avatar: The Last Airbender? Funnily enough, it predates Korra’s shipping wars by six years - and it continued to rage past the advent of Legend of Korra. It was still sparking in 2016.

Avatar was the first show I consciously shipped for, and I was a Kataanger. I liked the idea of Katara and Aang eventually pairing up. An opposing ship, Zutara - Zuko and Katara, the fans of which called themselves Zutarians - were the aggressive arch nemeses of the Kataang shippers. I took part in the shipping wars, but after a while, I just got sick of it. Moreso after I saw the entire show, where not only was Kataang the one that made it out alive - as I feel it should have - but the show could have survived without any pairings, because the group had a great number of platonic relationships. Take romance out, and you still have a pretty decent ragtag bunch of misfits. I still feel like Kataang was telegraphed from the first few episodes, and a ton of arguments I heard for Zutara to justify it at “canonical” - Zuko seeing Katara in Aang’s arms in the first episode and disliking Aang because he looked like he was hurting a pretty girl, telling Katara that he’d “save her from the pirates” in the Water Scroll episode (the pirates he hired to tail the Avatar, and the situation being that he was blackmailing her with a precious family heirloom to sell out the Avatar - really romantic, right?) - were self-righteous, taken out of context at best and smugly insufferable at worst. I still have a bit of a chip on my shoulder about Zutara.

But as a teenager - around 16 - I realized how fucking moronic it was to be actively angry about shipping. Both ships can have their highs and lows without being canonical, they can co-exist in peace. People don’t need to sling shit at each other to justify their love for their ship, because people are going to find different things romantic or sexy and it’s no-one’s business to tell them that their feelings are wrong. The sole idea behind shipping - love - is not an ideal that’s worth clawing out someone’s eyes over. I eventually stopped shipping Kataang for a while.

Fast forward to 2013 - at that point, I’m 17 going on 18. I’ve chilled the fuck out, I’m on tumblr, I’m ready to see some cute fucking fanart. I browse the tag for a couple weeks. It’s all good, the fanart is good.

Then a newcomer makes a post that mentions Zutara. People strain themselves not to get mad, and tell this person not to mention Zutara in the Kataang tag, because it’s an insult to their ship and it’s rude to mention it in the Kataang tag. Then the newcomer says “Alright, I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just see some points that go towards Zutara or Kataang, and I’m not too fussed about which one is ‘correct’ or not.”

The tag FUCKING EXPLODES.

The newcomer is called a troll, Kataangers firebomb the Zutara tag for their perceived “attack” on Kataang, and hostilities are actively stoked by both sides. It calms down in three days. Because so much as mentioning another ship’s name in another ship’s tag - not putting it above the other ship, not trying to offend, just mentioning it - is an offence punishable by fire.

These fandom people, new fans and classic, grown-up fans like myself alike - even older fans in their twenties - are as fucking embarrassing, hostile and shitty as a bunch of tweens were back when the show was still on.

I commented on all that, and people sent me defensive messages about how it was alright to act like a petulant child on the internet, because it’s something they’re passionate about and insulting that behavior is insulting to them. I relent and chill the fuck out.

That entire scenario? It happened three separate times, always in its entirety.

The fans of a thing I like couldn’t leave something alone, like conflict was a fandom tradition and they were proud to take up some sword and shield to defend the honor of their favorite characters. The slightest slight against them was grounds for combat, for anyone with a heartbeat to break out the claws and slash at their “opponent” for invading their territory. The word “militaristic” is thrown around a fair bit in fandom, sometimes as a cover for “fascist”, but the Avatar fandom? Pre- and post-Korra? It felt like people were LARPing combat scenes by smooshing their hands on their keyboards, to cause the most distress.

And that brings me back to Sherlock.

Johnlockers, TJLC or whatever the acronym is - the most vile, blind, deaf fans of the bunch, but not every Johnlock shipper - can’t play nice with any other ship. Johnlock is the end-goal, and they will pursue the blood of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss if they are not handed to them what they feel is rightfully deserved.

That is a sick way of thinking.

You can’t enjoy Johnlock for its own merits, revel in the material you are handed by other fans? The only option is for the pairing to become canonized, and the showrunners are in denial to the degree that they’re beaming you and your friends coded messages to say that it’s okay, that it’s going to be a thing, and that you can’t lose hope? If Johnlock isn’t canonized, the LGBT community has taken a shark-sized bite and will not be insulted by these BBC fascists who strung them along for so long?

I have a theory, and it’s a bit crazy. Maybe - just maybe - Mark Gatiss isn’t coding a secret gay relationship into a show because he’s gay himself, maybe him and Steven Moffat never intended for Sherlock to be this big maze about two men falling in love and bettering themselves through their love, and they aren’t being cracked down upon by the BBC. Maybe they actually mean it when they say “Johnlock isn’t canon”. Maybe they don’t have enough pull to broadcast a secret episode of their TV show on network television, and you are wasting your time by justifying the intentions of some people you have never met by the fiendish measures you wish that they would be able to take.

And maybe - just by the smallest sliver of a chance - that doesn’t invalidate Johnlock or any of the work you’ve put into it as a super-fan.

Like with Avatar, a pairing doesn’t have to be canon to be legitimate, to cause an effect or stir in a community or individual. Johnlock has already affected the real world, in good and bad ways. People have come together and become friends over the ship. You have the groundwork of a beautiful thing, a ship that has endured for over one hundred years in various shapes and sizes, a ship that has been canon in different continuities - you have the feelings Sherlock gives you towards these ships, and the ship has the clout of decades worth of interpretation. That’s great.

But that doesn’t make it canon in this universe, nor does it make it okay to ostracize and attack people who think maybe it’s not such a good idea to spend nigh-on five years obsessing over a bunch of fictional people. And maybe this unintended ship by the creators doesn’t need to be canonized. Maybe they don’t have to bend to your demands, and they have free reign to make the show that they want - and by exercising that right, they don’t intend by any measure to exploit your or lead you along, and mean no disrespect to the LGBT community.

Maybe Johnlock was a side-effect of Sherlock’s earlier days, or even planned to be canon once upon a time. And maybe the fanbase bloating to a truly sickening degree, flooding Tumblr with millions of uninspired, truly fanatical posts, turned them off the idea.

There’s a thousand things to say about Sherlock as a cultural phenomenon, or as an example of fanaticism affecting the course of a show’s run, and I don’t know any of it. All I know is this: that hardcore Johnlock shippers are absolutely bonkers, and for the past four years I have had no desire whatsoever to watch the monstrosity that spawned SuperWhoLock. I know that I actually kind of want to watch it now because of a multishipper friend who likes Johnlock, but doesn’t stand for any ship-bashing or malicious fan-wank garbage - niceness and kindness towards other fans and towards the show helping to disperse some of the garbage I always saw Sherlock as being encrusted with. And I know that not all Johnlock shippers are bad, the same way not all Zutara shippers are bad, despite my personal investment in it not being canon. Hell, the Kataang/Zutara conflict shouldn’t have lasted into the New Tens, period. We should have known better. I can see Johnlock shippers as being like any other decent fan of anything, provided that it hasn’t engulfed their life like an asbestos fire.

The idea behind shipping is love. In any way shape or form - familial love for the ships focused on “home”, on tight-knit families being formed. On romantic and erotic love, for those who live vicariously through their ships and swoon at the thought of them, or who want to get fucked by some fictional person/animal/object. Through platonic love, who want to see two friends have an unbreakable bond that keeps all involved parties anchored and strong. And I think it’s fucking deplorable that anyone would taint that feeling with hate. Whether you’re Johnlock or anti-Johnlock, or a militant Avatar shipper, or anyone who will belittle, attack or aim to hurt anyone for not conforming to their way of thinking. People like that are fucking horrendous, soul-sucking people. It’s people like that that makes shipping such an unattractive idea to a great deal of people.

My issue with shipping is the legitimate, mouth-frothing fanaticism exhibited by the truly invested, the hate and genuine desire to hurt other people for not believing in something and the sickening entitlement that so many ships are rife with. For a long time I just hated shipping, period - but I can live with shippers and the concept of shipping, as long as those people can act like composed human beings who don’t bay for blood. I have a specific dislike for SuperWhoLock as a whole, but Sherlock specifically - but given that the fans are okay people, I don’t have a beef with Johnlock as a concept or as a whole.

If the outcome of anything I just said boils your blood and makes you want to “stage an accident” for insulting you or your precious thing, by all means - come at me. But I repeat - the idea behind shipping is love. I fundamentally believe that for shipping as a whole, whether it be for the fictional love of two characters or a fan’s love of those characters interacting. That goes for Johnlock as much as it does any other ship. If my grievances truly offend a majority of Johnlock/TJLC people, then ask yourselves - how twisted do you have to be to take personal offence at being referred to as “about as toxic as it was three years ago, and has managed to garner an even crazier conspiracy squad full of elitists, loudmouthed “enlightened” fans and ridiculous degrees of fan-wank”? Does it hit that close to home that it feels like a personal attack, and does that initial summation invalidate anything I say afterwards by sheer virtue of existing?

Anything in this post could be wrong. I could be being too harsh. But if anything I said provides a flood of hate or a fucking bounty on my head for saying it, then you’re a part of the problem I just described. You are literally problematic.

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