relationship status: single
fav. color: light pink
lipstick or chapstick: both
last song i listened to: k.k. song
last movie i watched: rewatched moana this morning actually :o)
top 3 tv shows: voltron, the amazing world of gumball, and adventure time
top 3 ships: kl*nce, t*doiid*ku, and uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh smthing
Shipping is one of Tumblr’s favorite hobbies, drawing hundreds of millions of engagements each year. On Tumblr, shipping exists in many forms: fan art, fan fiction, manipulated GIFs and videos, and roleplay, just to name a few. It’s a common practice no matter what fandom you’re in—from television shows and movies to K-pop and video games. On Tumblr, the most popular type is slash—ships comprised of two male characters. Out of the top 150, 95 (63%) were guy/guy love.
We grabbed the top 30 ships from 2013—2016. 2013—2015 were ranked by reblogs alone. 2016 and 2017 are ranked by their Trending Score. This includes volume of searches, original posts, and likes in addition to reblogs. We’ve sorted the source content behind each year’s top ships below.
TV | 40%
Music | 40%
Anime | 10%
Celebrities | 6.67%
K-Pop | 3.33%
2013’s most reblogged ships were predominantly slash (76.67%). The remaining 23.33% were all heterosexual (het) ships—there were no femslash ships in the top 30 that year.
The most reblogged ship of the year was from an anime: MakoHaru (Nanase Haruka and Tachibana Makoto, Free! series).
TV | 40%
Anime | 20%
Music | 13.33%
Celebrities | 10%
Movies | 10%
Web Celebrities | 6.67%
Though slash (66.67%) and het ships (26.67%) comprised most of the list in 2014, femslash ships (6.67%) made their debut.
2014’s top ship was Destiel (Dean Winchester and Castiel, Supernatural). Though the ship is not canon (yet), the 200th episode “Fan Fiction” paid homage to it.
Destination Toast (@destinationtoast) has spent the past few years working with fandom and fic data. You can find all of her research, along with reblogs of posts created by others in different fandoms, on her side blog, ToastyStats (@toastystats).
I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fu#k, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.
It’s a flagrant mistranslation—but one that would only be apparent to those who can speak both languages. Moreover, the mistranslation is a clever subversion of the supremacy of English. The subtitle is a command to learn English—something that every Korean student has heard throughout her life—but to actually understand what K is saying, you would have to know Korean. There’s an added layer of comedy to the name itself, which has the whiff of the old country about it: “Koo Soon-bum” is sort of like a white man saying his name is “Buford Attaway.” As Yeun told me, “When he says ‘Koo Soon-bum,’ it’s funny to you if you’re Korean, because that’s a dumb name. There’s no way to translate that. That’s like, the comedy drop-off, the chasm between countries.”
Bong wrote the character of K specifically with Yeun in mind, because he’s a character that only a Korean-American could play. Yeun’s performance itself is a nod to that gap; it reads differently if you know Korean. While it’s obvious that he’s a bit of a dolt, if you have the ear for the language, his failures are more apparent, because he speaks with the stiltedness of a second-generation speaker (Yeun’s actual pronunciation is a lot better). He’s not quite sure of himself, and is trying to fit into both spaces, but can’t. (This is also why the other subtitle joke that I saw, “How’s my Korean?” works in a subtler way.) Yeun said the character “speaks to the island we live on”: He was a character written for Korean-Americans.
Throughout Okja, Bong plays with the idea of translation, both its necessities and inherent limitations, and the inevitable comedy that arises out of that space. When Jay learns that K deliberately lied, he starts to beat him up, telling him to “never mistranslate!” Toward the end of the movie, K pops back up with a fresh tattoo that reads, “Translations are sacred.”
Part of what makes Okja so remarkable is that Bong Joon-ho has found ways to make jokes that track across both cultural spheres. Unlike the wave of male Korean directors who crossed over into Hollywood around the same time, Park Chan-wook on Stoker or Kim Jee-woon with The Last Stand, Bong never let go of his roots. He cast Korean actors Song Kang-ho and Ko Ah-sung and had them speaking Korean dialogue alongside Hollywood stars Chris Evans and Octavia Spencer in his dystopian train ride thriller Snowpiercer. He furthers the Korean-American dynamic in Okja, centering on a young Korean girl and pitting her against the forces of an American corporation headed by Tilda Swinton’s knobby-kneed CEO. Just as the dialogue shifts seamlessly between both languages, Bong easily trots around the world, from the Korean countryside dotted with persimmon trees to the underground shopping malls of Seoul to the streets of New York City.
“Director Bong is probably one of the few, if not the only, people I’ve seen so far, that’s been able to bridge the two together,” said Yeun. “I don’t mean being able to do an American movie—a lot of directors could probably do that—but bridging the two cultures together in a cohesive way. That’s a tall order, and somehow, he accomplishes that.”