The haters for this ship exist but they’re held in about the same regard as house flies and are quickly forgotten about.

I could never bring myself to hate this ship, because whatever form it happens to take, finding someone who loves you… not just physically, or because of what they can get out of it, but authentically… with the desire to commit to you come good or bad, is too hard a thing to dismiss over something as unimportant as gender. True love is a rare and delicate flower in a field of rock and gravel, and I can think of no more monstrous thing than to strike it down in hatred of where it has grown.