Fuck The Patriarchy

Hi. Finally I decide to make a “navigation post” for this blog. I’ve always wanted to do it, just need to collect enough posts.

I’m Alice, a literature lover from China. Right now I’m mainly in Transformers fandom. I can both draw and write, but am right now more into writing. Here are all my fictions.

Currently I am only devoted to two ships. My otp #megop, and my sweet healing power #blitzbee. I post my headcanons, fanfics and fan arts about them, and also reblog things related to them here. Use these two tags to enjoy my collection!

I am also into feminist criticism and gender studies. I care a lot about women’s representation in the show and write stories & analysis about #transformers femmes (women transformers characters, but I will also count humans in). I will also create femme OCs in the near future. Use tags #feminism and #transformers femmes to locate these contents!

I believe creators and audience are equals. Fandom is important to a popular culture and sometimes readers know better than the authors. I write comments and thoughts about plot arrangements, character development in canon, also I comment on the fandom. Use #my thoughts to hear me out!

I am open to meaningful discussions because that could help deepen my understanding of a show. I do not appreciate unfriendly comments or sheer attacks.

I am an adult so I can’t guarantee that no adult/suggestive content will appear in my blog. I will remember to tag them though. 😂

My other interests include: WWII movies/ TV series, other books/media on feminism, and American ethic minority literature (I love Toni Morrison), musicals. Yes I am an English major.

感谢所有让我达到 2500 个喜欢的人！

Optimus forces a laugh. He’s still unsure. Ever since her forging age hit—practically overnight—Sari’s become more unpredictable. She keeps secrets now.

She sees his discomfort and gives him a friendly wink. “It’s normal, Optimus. He is charming. You’re not totally crazy about him, right?”

Optimus doesn’t answer. Sari raises a brow.

“…Wait. You are crazy about him?!”

Optimus feels the heat coming back again, spreading across his faceplate like a menace.

“No, I’m not. Would you cut it off? Please, Sari, I want to go to sleep.”

Sounding a little grumpy, Optimus gently pushes Sari to the side of the narrow corridor, as he walks towards his quarters. But the girl calls his name from behind.

“Optimus! Don’t leave so soon! I’ve got some news that you might want to hear!”

Optimum stops in tracks and sighs. “If it’s about Blackarachnia, I’m not interested, really.” He turns to the direction of his berthroom, but Sari already sneaks up in front of him, crossing her arms and giving him a pouting look. “It’s not about the Bug, or any bug.” She mutters, “will you let me finish first? It’s Megatron— I saw him wrote this.”

Sari raises a servo, showing Optimus a little picture on the touch screen of her communication module. It’s a photo of a datapad. Optimus recognizes the handwriting. Big, scribbled Cybertronian-decepticon letters with sharp edges. It’s his writings. Optimus frowns at Sari before he reads the actual text.

“You looked into his stuff?” He asks. His tone tainted with undeniable disapproval. Sari withdraws her arm with an immediate angry face.

“Oh, alright, Mr. Righteousness. I’m sorry I looked into a few data pads your crush accidentally left on the library table, and just for your possible interest, took pictures of the one on top that seemed like a love poem. But if you’re not interested, I’ll delete it right now!”

She begins clicking on her servo-screen like crazy. Optimus’s spark sinks. He immediately reaches lut and grabs Sari’s hand. “No! Please, Sari! Let me see it! I’m really sorry.”

It took quite a while for the teenager-bot to finally calm down and cooperate, so Optimus can read the said poem written by the bot in his dream. It turns out that it’s not Megatron’s poem— he didn’t wrote it, only translated it from a human writer. But the content makes Optimus’s spark shiver. It was one of his favorite poems. The poem he was reading before he fell into the decepticons’ haven and one of the first poems he recommended Megatron to read. The lines lie neatly in the decepticon’s scribbling letters, the rhymes were changed to meet the needs of Cybertronian language, but the meanings do not change. Optimus reads out the familiar lines under his breath:

“Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art---,

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night…

…No---yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft swell and fall,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest.

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever---or else swoon to death.”

Optimus stares at the screen, silent.

Of all the poems. Of all the memories.

Megatron had chosen this one.

What does it mean?

Does it mean that Megatron longs for a love like the one in the human’s writing? Not eternal life. Not long-lasting fame.

But something simpler.

Truthful. Steadfast.

A look of understanding.

A silent embrace.

Something that lasts — not in time, but in meaning.

Just like what Optimus longs for.

Or… does Megatron actually care?

Enough to remember which poem Optimus once loved.

Enough to write it down. To translate it into his own tongue.

Or—are these just Optimus’s own fantasies? Is Optimus just grasping for something that’s not there?

Maybe Megatron was only practicing translation.

Maybe it meant nothing at all.

I want to say more about this fic here in your comment section — it’s an exploration of what goes unsaid in the original show, and also a direct response to everything I found unbearable about Transformers: One.

I see the writer(s) of that film as shallow and self-righteous, shaping characters’ fates based on moral prejudices rooted in their own narrow frameworks. The plot feels unnatural and forced in so many ways. The whole thing reeks of arrogant neoliberalism and white supremacy: a careless white guy wins everything by pure luck; his slower-reacting Black companion is cast out for daring to be angry at their oppressor; a so-called “strong woman” who is really just a scab and a bully, reduced to a few awkward, buffed-up one-liners; and a comedic clown who serves as the show’s designated punching bag — all in a story that doesn’t even try to be genuinely funny.

So I wrote this dystopian fic to straighten out the logic. To explore what could really be happening without the playwrights’ moralization and plot conveniences. I wanted to ask: what happens if we take these characters seriously, and not as archetypes for someone’s ideological playground?

Thanks again for reading this piece and leaving a comment — it means a lot. I think I’ll keep writing in this AU. I used to worry some people wouldn’t like it. Now I realize: their approval is the last thing I need.

And as for Bumblebee — don’t worry about him. The whole story is rooted in the idea of staying true to one’s spark. Bee was that lonely, chubby kid who had no real friends and clung to the group just to survive. He stayed silent while Megatron was being isolated and cast out — and now he’s trapped between guilt and his fear of becoming the next exile.