fanwright:

So I thought it would be fun to write a weird story to answer this question! Hope that’s okay. 

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*A sound like electric passion resonates off the old walls of the alley. The base beats against the bricks like a tribal war song deep in the cold winter’s night in heart of the decaying city.* 

*The glow of neon blue and red washes over the trash bins, stale puddles and stained snow, bright pulsing signs hanging above an old cellar door pointing the way for new comers to the Crying Demon in languages from Hindi to Vietnamese, Chinese to English.*

*Someone’s leaning against the wall by the door. He’s hooded, hands in his pockets, dressed like he thinks he’s the baddest fucking bouncer in the slums, face like a smashed jigsaw puzzle missing a few pieces.*

*His eyes widen and he gives you a look. You don’t know what it is – is he surprised, offended? God forbid angry. He looks like he’s packing heat.*

“So, you want t’know why I ship my OTP, huh?”

*He takes one last drag on his cigarette, stomps out the bud under his sneakers, smooths out the creases on his jacket, and rakes his eyes over you, head to toe, weighing your soul.*

“Yeah, man. I hear you. I could go into detail about it, glorify it to high heaven and extol on how crazy, amazing, and sexy it is. I could tell ya how it introduced me to this crazy world of fandoms, re-introduced me to the beauty that is A:TLA, opened my mind on how to interpret two great characters, allowed me to reach out and connect with a small, tough-as-nails community, urge me to constantly improve my mediocre writing, and why its basically so ingrained in my system that anytime I hear it, it sends a jolt of high octane juice straight into my brain…”

*He pauses, looking aimlessly down the alley way, trying to find his words*

“…Thing is, I feel like I got nothin’ t’say! Others, the Masters, the ones that came b’fore me – y’know, just some punk-ass wannabe drifter – they said it all! Sang from the soul, put the fire in your heart like when a beat drops, believe Sokkla’s a ship worth shipping.”

*He grips his hood, like he’s in a fit of madness. What’s gotten into him?*

“I can’t put it into beautiful words like they can, man, and its eating at me! Why do I ship it? Fuck, I don’t know…”

*He paces through the neon puddles, his breath seeping out into the cold air. His head lowers. And it rises. He tenses for a moment and turns to you, epiphany gleaming in his eyes.*

“Why not? Why the hell not!”

*You think he’s lost it and you edge away from him, feet backing into the shadows, but you can’t look away. He got against a cold wall.*

“Think up any character you like? Why the hell do like that one, y’know? The ones people say are nothing but shit! The ones everyone hate or think are useless and insignificant compared to their favorites! Why him, why her? Why is it the one that other people don’t appreciate? Think of any ship, man. Why do you ship your ship? Why do people look down on you and think your scum for shipping what you ship? They can’t stand it! Hate it because its different!”

*He gets in your face, jabbing a finger into your chest*

“They think its fucking stupid! They think you’re insane for liking your ship, your characters, the ones that put the song into your soul and shake you to the bones! Its disturbing, unlikely, silly, exciting, sexy, fresh, new, life, like a fucking Fabreze in this old, stale ass fandom! Isn’t that how so many ships start out anyway? Just because of a conversation or a little awkward look between friends that didn’t amount to anything, but sent fans swooning? They’ll take any excuse to ship two characters they like, but its the most popular ones that get the most attention, the only ones that be accepted? Everything else is fucking heresy? That’s bullshit, man!”

*He practically spits the words in your face he’s so close. Yet, you still can’t look away. He’s got that mad-happy look in his eyes and you still don’t know if he’s ready to take a weapon out on you.*

“You need tenacity for this ship, bro! Courage, passion, ambition, insanity, so you can break away from everything they said was wrong. Fuck’em all! They still fight their wars, these big ships that think they’re all that. Oh, they won’t let you ship it? Fuck ‘em! Get away from that bullshit negativity and let them fight their wars among themselves! Get back to the love! Get back to the passion for your ship, let it grow, show ’em all your beyond their hate!  Why not ship it?”

*Its as if he’s asking you. You don’t know how to answer this man, this madman with the fire behind his eyes, his voice rising above the dense and tall tenements deep in the heart of this decrepit city, bathed in the neon glow his passion.*

*And then he steps away, slowly almost embarrassed, blinking away the fire. His voice is soft like snow under your feet.*

“…It might not grab you and hold your attention like it did me, pleading for your love. Its… its like a force, y’know? It, I don’t know, it just compels you, draws you in like a sweet note that just gets in your head and you can’t help but listen. Its the same way that Maiko or Zutara or Zuki or Tyzula is not for everyone, but they are sure as hell loved by a lot of people. It might not take you in like it did me or the Crazy Few.”

*He turns to the door under the neon signs, voice like a sweet dream on the winter breeze, reaching for what he hopes to come.*

“Oh few! We happy few! We band of Sokklateers! For you that shares this love with me this night shall be my brother, my sister.”  

*He turns back to you, spirit in his voice.*

“That’s fine isn’t it? To have a passion for something? A character, a ship, even a small one? We’re just doing our thing down here, man, same as others. Just know that whatever ships you do like, the ones that connect with you on that indescribable level that make you want come back to Tumblr or Deviantart or FanFiction everyday to see if there is something new or just talk to fans that share your love for it – just know that whatever insane force is urging you to do all that lovin’ is the same force that’s acting in us.”

*His voice echoes through the alley and you see his face clearly. His eyes are open, staring straight into you.*

“Its got a power over me, man. Like the beats in this club, I can’t stay away from it. I hear it, want to be lost in it, dance in its passion. Maybe you don’t know that feeling, but my people in there… they know it! And maybe it doesn’t call to you in the night like it does for us, maybe you dance to some other beat that’s got you hooked. You do you, bro. We do us. You wanna join? Fucking awesome! You don’t, then whatever! Walk down this alley ‘til you hear that beat that speaks to you. Just know that we’re here now and we’ll stay how ever long we want to. Sometimes the song doesn’t draw a crowd, but its always playing. And it will always catch someone’s ear, man. Same as others.”

*He steps back, his breath on the cold air slow, keeping his eyes on you as he leans against the wall. Reaching into his pocket, he takes out another cigarette. One snap of his fingers and – clak! – A fire. Dancing his fingers. He lights the cigarette between his lips and takes a slow drag. A warm haze against the humming neon signs.*

“So what’chu wanna do, my man? You can keep walking out in this cold ‘til you find another place with some sick ass beats you like. Or you can come and chill here with us. You do what you wanna do. I’m just sayin’ shit that’s crazy. You probably thought I was gonna pull somethin’ on you!”

*You give a slight nod and a reluctant shrug.*

“Shit man! Hmph. Whatever. I’m going back inside. Fuckin’ cold as fuck out here anyway.”

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…So yeah. Pretty weird, I know, but I felt like answering this in an unusual way.