So like Shrine called me out on my shit today while cleaning our room. Because I was reading something on the PC while sitting in my chair, two pieces of trash in my hand, like bags or something, and I saw something that I read that I had to reply to so I replied to it.
Cue Shrine jabbing a finger in my direction going, âTHATâS HOW IT HAPPENS!â
Me: Huh?
Shrine: *points at the trash now on the floor* THATâS HOW YOU WIND UP WITH SO MUCH SHIT AROUND YOUR CHAIR YOU JUST FUCKING DROP WHATEVER IS IN YOUR HAND LIKE A GOD DAMN ASTRONAUT SO YOU CAN TYPE
Which, I mean I canât contest this because for one she just saw it so bullshitting it is out of the question and two you bet your god damn ass I sure as hell read that reply and in my mindâs eye I had absolutely nothing in my hands so whatever was in them is now on the floor and yep, that is how I wind up with so much shit around my chair. Babies have no sense of object permanence and you bet your ass I am one.
Supercarrier: fandom flagship. Â Everybody and their dog ships it. Â The fandom is glutted with artwork and fic. Â You cannot escape this ship.
Dreadnought: massively popular. Â Nearly everybody ships it. Â You can, with dedication, in theory, reach the end of the AO3 archive for the shipâs tag, but itâll take a long time.
Cruiser: pretty popular ship. Â Not everyone ships it, but everyone knows about it. Â Has a good amount of fic/art, and probably multiple ask blogs.
Frigate: just plain popular. Â Feels like it could use more fanworks. Â New people to the fandom might not know about it, but theyâll stumble across it sooner rather than later.
Gunboat: bit of a rarepair. Â It might have an ask blog or two. Â A couple big name fans ship it. Â Probably only takes a few weeks to get through the entire AO3 backlog, and one new fic gets added during that time.
Tugboat: rarepair. Â Almost never seen except as a side pairing to a more popular ship. Â You can usually get through everything on AO3 in a matter of days. Â Youâve forgotten what it is to be picky about what you read.
Rowboat: less than a dozen people ship it. Â You all know each other. Â You exist in an endless cycle of the same five people desperately producing art and fic and one person who constantly contributes headcanons.
Canoe: you are one of maybe three people who ship it, and thereâs a not-insignificant chance youâve never encountered those other two hypothetical shippers.  You spend your days paddling furiously in hopes of keeping the ship afloat, dreaming of the day you upgrade to a rowboat so you can finally rest.
Submarine: Quite a few people ship it, but nobody wants to admit to shipping it. Will randomly appear and throw the other ships into confusion.
Pontoon: that random crossover ship with that one black dress character/trope/fandom everyone will ship with everything else. Has the potential to turn into a massive party until someone gets sick and everyone goes home.
Pedalo: That iconic bizarre crackship whose proponents claim theyâre only into it ironically, but secretly theyâre all dead serious.
Paging @amythe3lder for the pool noodle definition.
Barge: Not quite seaworthy, but buoyant in both the literal and figurative senses. Someone is always merrily drunktweeting about it at 11pm on Saturday night and then wistfully sobertweeting about it 4 hours later from their kitchen floor. The kind of ship that generates more playlists than fic. Artfully covered in trash and dirty laundry.
Raft: Thereâs two-to-four people who Ship It Hard and a few others who grab onto the side for safety when thereâs drama on their usual flagship.
Barrel:Â Thereâs orphaned fic of it. Thereâs unsigned art of it. Thereâs headcanon asks on anon. Someone must ship it, but no one knows why or who they are. Your friend got a glimpse once before they ducked back down.
Pool Noodle: Itâs just you, kicking your feet. You named the ship and wrote it on your noodle with a big sharpie. You tell people about it and are met with confused blinking. Most of the fics in the tag were either written by you or for you. You are caught between wanting to shout about how lovely life is on this floating scrap of whimsy and fearing that your noodle canât bear much weight. Or worse, that someone will come over and dunk you, take your noodle and fwhap you on the head with it.Â
Scuba: Like a submarine, but itâs just you all by your lonesome, exploring the depths, possibly encountering more tentacles than anticipated.
Did I ever mention the time that I found out my lecturer was the ghost in one of my classmateâs home town?
Righto. So a couple years ago I took a Myths and Legends class for uni. The lecturer was this really incredible guy. Loved history. Dressed, everyday, to the nines. Top hat, waistcoat, leather shoes etc. In one of the introductory classes he had us share stories we had heard, local myths and legends from the towns we grew up in. I was studying in Ballarat, an Australian town with a rich ghost history and so it made sense that a lot of people had answers. This one girl, however, grew up in a small rural town a couple hours away and talked about the ghost she knew of from when she was in high school. Every night, at the same time of night (about 3am), people recounted seeing a Victorian man walk across the golf field. This one was particularly interesting because she had seen herself. That is, where other people had just heard these stories, she knew that what had been talked about was real.
This was when he turned red. It had turned out that when he was studying for his undergrad he was living in this particular town. Not many people knew him because he didnât grow up there. He would spend countless nights up late working and so to wind would go on long late night walks. At 3am, every night. In the full garb he wore everyday.Â
It had turned out that him being the stand out that he was, had birthed a legend. He had known about it but never did he think it would catch up with him.Â
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