Sorry if I'm spouting stuff unwanted in your ask box. But I had a deep brain thinky moment and I thought "at least with reader inserts we admit we're inserting ourselves into the story". A lot of "shippers" seem to ship because they've projected onto a certain character, and they themselves want to be with another character (who often gets watered down to a very attractive slab of meat with little to no will and/or personality of their own). So of course, prime example is Jon with his choose your own poison girlboss, but I've seen it in some other areas. Of course there are some genuine attempts at investigating chemistry between characters out there, but it's often the most viciously toxic ships/shipping communities that I notice this sort of self insertion. Of course I could be assuming things and/or judgemental but it's just a theory I built up after years of observing.
No, you are right on the money. (Rest under a read more because gods be good have my opinions on shipping and shippers in fandom gotten me some anon hate before)
It's why certain shippers tend to be very aggressive in their defences, because they have seen so much of themselves in a character they feel like you are judging them for a real relationship they are in. Refusing to see character flaws as a fundemantal aspect of who that person is, beacuse they don't want to relate to someone like that, so they invent a vision of this person that they have to defend beacuse they won't admit they related to a bad person.
It's a slippery slope to project so heavily onto a character in a ship you like. Beacuse you end up refusing to see them as dynamic people who are more complicated then their relationship and that relationship ends updefining them as a character. Example, I ship Brienne and Jaime but I also don't look at either of them as someone I relate to on a personal level. I'm also fascinated with both of their separate stories and greatly and think those separate journeys are what makes their intertwining moments so intriguing. But if I were projecting myself onto Brienne, then I would end up acting as if she was always perfect and her entire story revolves around a starry eyed Jaime who only lives for that relationship now.
Jon has such a bad treatment by his shippers, beacuse so often he winds up being that slab of meat for the other party. I know some people have joked "well about time its a mans turn" but the point is no one should be given the arm candy treatment by fans. Man or woman. Jon is such a footnote in Jonerys dialouge beacuse ultimetly he serves her at her beck and call with little agency. Because Dany is the one they see themselves as and thus molding Jon into their perfect partner means serving the worst aspects of a girlboss character, meaning stripping the complex agency of their romantic male interests. Same with Ygritte, people see her aggresiveness and sass and think oh my god shes me, and totally ignore the actual text on the page/proof on screen that Jon's time with her isn't happy or romantic. But they want to see themeslves in Ygritte's spitfire personality so badly that they refuse to see Jon as anything but a willing puppet for her enjoyment, beacuse they want the advantage of being her and having him.
Honestly most Jon ships have this problem, and it's partially why I don't ship him with anyone, and i actually ship very few characters with anyone. My time in the Pedro fandom I was infamous for disliking popular ships and a lot of it then too was seeing people projecting onto the female to a point where their interpretation of the character was just not what was on screen.
Casually shipping is fine, again I love a good analysis post about Jaime and Brienne, but like you said. At least with reader inserts, I'm telling you it's you. I'm telling you it's me. You know the reader acts that way beacuse it's who they are and it's not forcing them to be something their not just to force that character to be relatable to you in particular.
Jonsa, Jonerys, Jonrya and Jongritte suffer from this problem greatly, and during my time in the pedro fandom Mando and Omera, and Joel and Tess also were major sufferers of this problem. The male becomes meat for the superior female character beacuse you want it to be you and it being you forces you to turn this person into someone they aren't and this it strips the other party of their agency.
The males now only exist to be relatable arm candy, as opposed to reader inserts which do the work to find a way to make the reader fit into the existing world around them organically.
At least I'm being honest. I write Jon Snow x Reader fics cus I want to fuck Jon Snow, I'm not pretending like I just really like Dany and thats why I ship it. No, they're a terrible couple, but at least I'm honest about my self shipping. I don't have to lie about my intentions.
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Utada Hikaru - 「Sakura Nagashi」
開いたばかりの花が散るのを
「今年も早いね」と
残念そうに見ていたあなたは
とてもきれいだった
When you stood there and watched
Disappointed
As the flower petals dropped to the ground
You murmured
"They fell early this year, too"
You looked so beautiful then
もし今の私を見れたなら
どう思うでしょう
あなた無しで生きてる私を
I wonder
What would you think
If you could see me now
Going through life without you
Everybody finds love
Everybody finds love
In the end
あなたが守った街のどこかで今日も響く
健やかな産声を聞けたなら
きっと喜ぶでしょう
私たちの続きの足音
Today, too
The healthy cries of a newborn baby echo in the streets
Of the town you once protected
If you could hear them now
I'm sure you'd be so happy
Their footsteps will carry on where ours left off
Everybody finds love
In the end
もう二度と会えないなんて信じられない
まだ何も伝えてない
まだ何も伝えてない
I still can't believe I'm never going to see you again
There's so many things I never got to tell you
So many things I never got to say
開いたばかりの花が散るのを
見ていた木立の遣る瀬無きかな
Maybe this is how the trees felt
As they stood there
Helpless
Watching their flowers fall to the ground
Right after they'd bloomed
どんなに怖くたって目を逸らさないよ
全ての終わりに愛があるなら
No matter how scared I feel
I won't look away
As long as there's love in the end
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[This fic is entirely about the fictionalized representations of the men of Easy Company that we see on the show. I mean no disrespect to the real men by writing this.]
[Part 2] [on ao3]
Donald Malarkey x OC
Summary: "Technical Advisor" for an Airborne exhibition in Paris - it’s a pity assignment, and Don doesn’t expect to actually have to put in any work. He’s going to enjoy the sights of Paris, do only as much as absolutely necessary, and wait out the end of the war. At least, that's the plan. He just hasn’t counted on Beatrice Mowbray - the historian determined to turn a pile of shot-up planes into an interesting exhibition.
Warnings: Flashbacks to war and violence.
Tagging @next-autopsy - perhaps you'll be interested in the story of Don and Beatrice as well.
Babe, there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you - Part 1
Technical advisor - it’s a bullshit assignment, born only out of pity, or perhaps worry that he’ll finally crack like that Craver fellow who shot at Grant. Still, when Major Winters sends him off to Paris, Don can’t help but be thankful. Not happy, that’s too strong a feeling most of these days, but relieved.
A part of him feels guilty for leaving the other men behind. Another, surprisingly prideful part of him wonders if he should be offended at being singled out like this - one step above being sent back from the line for battle fatigue, like he couldn’t quite cut it.
Most of him doesn’t care.
What he in particular will have to offer to an exhibition is unclear, but if it means not having to watch one more of his friends die, he’ll take it - as long as they stay safe in Austria with a toothless German army and he doesn’t have to worry about what's left of his friends being blown up or shot at every second of every day.
He doesn’t know what to expect when he gets to Paris, but it’s not her.
Beatrice Mowbray is the person in charge of putting together the exhibition, the person he’s brought to after he’s arrived in Paris and checked in with the battalion in question.
For a moment, he thinks it might be nice to work with a woman, after listening to men yell at each other for literal years. Then she looks up at him and frowns.
“You’re the Technical Advisor I was told about?”
He nods, but doesn’t get around to saying anything.
“You’re late.”
A flash of annoyance surges through him. The trip here was a long one, jeep to troop truck to train to taxi, and he still rushed to get here from the hotel, not even allowing himself enough of a break to enjoy the bathtub that was beckoning in his room. And this is the welcome he gets?
“Well, I only had to cross half a war-torn continent.”
She huffs, clearly not amused by his sarcasm.
“At least now you’re here. I can guide you through what we’ve got so far.”
Getting to her feet, she starts walking out of the office they’ve led him to and into the main building, an airplane hangar on the outskirts of Paris. Don follows without protest, too startled by her abruptness to ask any questions.
There are several airplane models standing around, some more banged up, some less, small crews of mechanics carrying out repairs on some of them. She walks past them all with him, her heels clacking on the concrete, making remarks about where they got this plane or that, and he listens half-heartedly until they pass by a C-47 and he stops in his tracks.
It’s the exact same model he jumped out of, on the night of June 6th, that fateful day he entered the war. It’s become a kind of marker in his personal calendar, cutting his life into Before and After. He can practically hear the roar of its engine as he stares at it, feel the pull of his line hooked to the central bar, smell the fire from planes exploding all around him…
“Sergeant Malarkey…?”
His thoughts are interrupted by her voice, hesitant and questioning and a lot softer than before. He shakes himself back to the present.
“Quite a collection you’ve got there,” he says just to say something, too polite to utter what he’s really thinking: That it feels a lot like the army dumped a bunch of planes too banged-up to bother repairing on her and came up with some bullshit plan like this exhibition as an excuse.
“Thank you. I’ve been personally overseeing the transport of the planes here, and I think the models cover a good portion of what was actually in use during D-Day and the days after. I even managed to get my hands on a few British planes, which will be a good addition, I think…”
She keeps walking to the next plane, silently expecting him to follow and he does, watching her bemusedly. If the exhibition is bullshit, no one bothered to tell her that - she’s completely serious about this ridiculous undertaking, rattling off stats about the planes with record speed. It’s quite at odds with her cool welcome, and reluctantly, he finds it kind of endearing.
He pushes the thought away.
“So what's my job in all of this?”
“Oh, I thought we could go over what I’ve gathered so far about the night of June 6th and you can tell me if anything's wrong. I’d like to have big plaques put up next to the planes that detail everything.”
He nods, a little skeptical. How can a plaque next to a piece-of-junk plane possibly tell all that happened that night - a night he still remembers as the longest of his life?
But that's not his concern, he reminds himself. All he has to do is say whether her intel is correct or not. She's the one who has to turn this junkyard into an exhibit people will come to watch - voluntarily, in a city filled to the brim with other wonders.
It seems like an impossible task, and he's had enough of those to last him for the rest of his life. He'll keep his hands clean, let her try and wrangle with it and only contribute enough to justify his being here.
He’s done his part in this war.
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