#especially for a fandom that's gotten relatively small on this site :')

[dunhamsolivia]

We're on the same wavelength, at least in much of our media tastes. I must get more BSG 75 stuff.

hello, friend! thank you for the message of encouragement! i have no plans to stop giffing bsg any time soon! in the meantime here are a few other blogs that are actively putting out content: @samueltanders @sharon-valerii @samcaarter @majorsamcarters

[agl03]

Finale Predictions

Well guys, it's been quite the ride and here we are ready for the finale.   First and foremost I have to thank you all for sticking with me over the years.  Sending the asks, supporting the theories, dealing with my sometimes crazy metas and predictions, that sometimes hit and sometimes didn’t. And trusting me to be the Fandom Mom. 

As is now an annual tradition I’m putting up my post of Finale Predictions before going dark until after the finale airs.  This is for fun as I always like to see how well I did.    Please no pitchforks if I am wrong on any of these.

So here we go:

Everyone’s favorite villains, Nathaniel, Kora, and SIBYL will all make it to the finale while Garrett will be killed or locked up by the end of the first hour (and it will use some of Fitz’s tech).

SIBYL will eventually get herself a new body.

Nathaniel will turn on Kora and try to take her powers and/or kill her.

Kora has already turned on him and he/we just don’t know it yet.  Either betrays him and helps her sister or tries to kill him herself in revenge for her mother.  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.  

Daisy will be the one to end Nathaniel and it will be oh so satisfying giant fight scene….even if we have to wait until the second hour for it.  Bonus points if Sousa get a hit in first too

Coulson, May, and Elena are able to get to space thanks to Coulson’s new computer Genius Super Power OR Garrett is ordered to bring them so they can lord their victory over them all.

Even though they have pretty much ended Shield and Hydra in the “hot mess” timeline SIBYL and Nathaniel set their sites on the OG Timeline and/or Fitz once they realize he has come into the mix and ruins their plans in the hot mess timeline..   As they are both aware he is the one who ends their little party.

The Chronicoms will not all be super thrilled with what SIBYL has been up too or her methods.   This could be another thing that drives SIBYL into the OG Timeline.   

The battle between SIBYL and Coulson seems to have gotten a bit more personal so my money is on Coulson being the one to take her down.   Close second goes to May and Fitzsimmons. 

Diana didn’t only block Memories of Fitz it took out the memories of people associated with him.  IE she is not going to remember her friends or Deke.

Deke will earn her trust quickly and be an A+ overprotective grandson of his Nana as they are rescued and get back to the team.

The team will rescue Deke and Jemma, take out a few Chronicoms, and Independence Day their way out of there.

While it won’t be the romantic Philinda some fans want we will see some quality Philinda banter over the finale as it seems they’ve settled into a good place between the two.   Coulson has also passed the torch of “team parent” onto her.

Philinda will not end as a couple.

At some point Sousa is really going to question what is going on and his life choices.  AKA He looks around stunned at what is going on.

More quality Dousy flirting and banter….they will kiss again and I do see them being a couple when things end.

Fitzsimmons family feels just a lot of them over the whole finale.  Iain and Elizabeth are going to murder us with feels.  I mean Fitz with his little girl.  I shall perish.

Despite not knowing everyone Jemma is going to be super insistent on building or activating a device (that has been stashed on the Zephyr) that she doesn’t know what it does but just knows she needs to build and activate it.  She will be the only one who can activate it and possibly it will take something very personal of hers to turn it on.  IE how she was hiding Fitz’s ring/necklace in Season 6 she might have the key hiding again.  But lets all freak out that Jemma will literally be the key to getting Fitz.

We won’t see Fitz until near the end of 12 if he is not the cliffhanger.  

That Bar place in the promo pics is either Keonig’s Bar or the Playground of the hot mess Timeline.  Seems to be some sort of secret Shield Base or what is left of them after the big attack as there are some random Shield agents milling/wth/who are these people in the background.  We know The Playground was off the books in the OG Timeline and would make sense it was also in the Hot mess.

Jemma will have her memory resorted relatively quickly after Fitz Kool Aid Man’s in all Star Lord from the portal thing Jemma activates.  And it’ll be the freaking power of her love for Fitz/her Family that overloads her (Gimme my Framework fix here).  Or Fitzsimmons have a fail safe password.  BUT GIMME TRUE LOVE.

CUE THE SECRET CHILD REVEAL!!!!!!!!!!   Yes, I will be screaming.  The team will be stunned.

I’m sticking to my theory that they will give their daughter a “celestial” or astronomical name to pay off “One of these days we’ll find something magnificent out in space,” thing from Season 3 (especially if she was conceived on the way back from Kitson).  Or a name that is very reflective of their Scottish/English roots.  

Everyone needs to hold onto their hats because once Jemma has her memories back it will be because they are gonna want to get home to their Little Girl like yesterday and have one hell of a plan that involves saving the world and taking care of Nathaniel, SIBYL, and the Season 6 Finale attack on the Lighthouse.

This is likely where a ton of the Flashbacks come in.

Where has Fitz been?  He’s been back in our OG Timeline.  The finale confirmation for me came last week when Nathaniel revealed that SIBYL’s time stream couldn’t see him….or their daughter, and that thing sees EVERYTHING in the HOT MESS Timeline.  This would also be why Jemma’s messages didn’t reach him, she couldn’t get them to cross into the OG Timeline and this was something she would have known but Diana blocked as part of hiding where Fitz was.

How has Fitz been watching the Chronicoms?  Insert incredibly complicated timey whimy thing the writers came up with that me and my Marketing degree can not fathom so just go with it okay, via the using the Framework in the OG Timeline to get into the Chronicom’s system.  Little pay back for what SIBYL has been doing in the Hot Mess Timeline.  Him being connected to the Framework explains why he was so exposed.  Because when someone is hooked up to that thing they can get their heads cut off and not know it.

Now reunited and having dropped the baby announcement Fitzsimmons will present the plan for the “Final Mission” the team must embark on to save the world….again.   

And oh baby is it complicated.  

Part of said plan will have them back at the Lighthouse during the Chronicom attack.

The dudes that showed up with Jemma at the Temple will be explained.  IE I think its some of the team and they cleared out of the Zephyr before the time travel party got started.  They also may have grabbed other hunks of the monoliths.

The fight will take place in both the Hot Mess and OG Timelines  

We have not seen the last of the Monoliths.  The fact we are jumping timelines and have Flint in the mix over in the OG timeline makes me think they are gonna need Mr. Swirly’s help in doing said jumping (Mr. Swirly is the Grey Monolith).  Or they really go with the OG and its Harold (Black Space one) that allows for it.  Kind of fitting the Monolith that tore Fitzsimmons apart is now the one that reunites them.  

We will for sure see Enoch (via Flashback), Davis (please not by Flashback #davislivesagain), Piper and Flint as returning Favorites.   

If they have Davis back to life I just gesture exhaustedly at the Monoliths again.  Not even gonna try to explain it.

Small chance we run into the Hot Mess’s Timeline Enoch but he will have no relationship or connection to the team and will make me cry.  

Top Picks for SURPRISE not on the Press Release faces to pop up if we get them:   Ward (I mean really how have we not seen him again yet), Mace, Robbie, Bobbi, Hunter, Koenig (any of them) and Mike.    REALLY WANT IT BUT WON”T GET IT!   Dadcliffe

Who was keeping Fitzsimmons Daughter safe:  

Top Pick:  Piper and Flint:  Given Fitzsimmons would have run into them picking up the Zephyr and they could have been the “we had help” they talked about.

Second Place Because I Badly want him back:  Uncle Enoch 2.0

Left Field Surprise Option:  Huntingbird

LOLA RETURNS

We will get a lot of really fun callbacks to past stories or even lines IE “I’m just the Pilot” For May.

“What We Are Fighting For”:  Family.  The team family….and the Fitzsimmons family.  Also they will have gone 13/13 in that someone will say the titles name at some point in the episode.

We will see old weapons and tech from previous seasons make one last appearance, we’ve seen 2 so far in promos and will see more.

Shotgun Axe gets a proper send off in battle (this one is for Kiddo 3)

Bear will deliver the most amazing soundtrack that we’ll never get to buy.

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story (Sorry Couldn’t Resist)

Nathaniel:  Dies, and we will all cheer.

SIBYL:  Dies, and we will all cheer.

Garrett:  Dies or locked up, won’t make it to the second hour.

Kora:  Toss a coin.  If she dies she killed for trying to take down Nathaniel.  If in her betrayal of Nathaniel she helps Daisy get Jemma and Deke back that could be a good starting place for the sisters to work thing out.   Starting place, she has a long way to go to get in good with Daisy and setting up an 11th hour redemption arc.

Mack:  Still so nervous for him based on how he has been in interviews, especially the SDCC ones last year.  He was so clearly upset by it.  So Mack either falls or does something so out of character (Bails before the finale battle which just is not making sense to me Mack is in such a good place right now) for Mack that Henry was upset by it.  Essentially I am very confused because what I am seeing on screen now isn’t matching with how Henry was talking as Mack has really come around since his Endgame stage.

Elena:   Easily lives.  If Mack doesn’t die, wherever he lands she’ll be with him.  They’ve been a steady ship all season and I see no reason for them to break up outside of death.  And while I have a mountain of concerns for Mack, I have none for Elena..   I also see her still being a presence within Shield, she’s become a good solid agent, and bonus points if she keeps Flint with her….and he gets all the tacos he wants.  

Sousa:   Totally lives (they might give us a good fake out though because he and Daisy are becoming a thing)I can still see him being Director of Shield if Mack falls or steps down.   He’s a good Agent in a new time but he said he is right where he is supposed to be, at Daisy’s side.  Where she goes he goes.  IE he’s not letting her get away and will always be there after she runs into a wall.  So if Daisy leaves Shield, so will he.  If she stays so will he.  If she opens a coffee bar he’ll learn to make an espresso.   

Daisy:   Totally Lives, but there will be something about her ending that some fans won’t like and some fans are going to love.   Staying with Shield or no whatever she does will involve Inhumans be it the Secret Warriors are up and running again, she is mentoring and training new Inhumans coming into Shield, or my favorite option still is she reopens Afterlife.  I’ve been feeling that option for most of the Season and feel like it was really set up with Jaiying as was Daisy looking out for her little sister should the chips fall the right way.     The SS Dousy will be sailing right along.  IF Kora survives I can see her being in Afterlife as well, Daisy taking her mother’s passion that Kora has a good heart to heart herself.  

Deke:   Okay this one is weird because I feel like we are going to lose him somehow, but he won’t die.  I didn’t get the vibe from Jeff, Elizabeth, or Iain that he died and those three are pretty tight.  However,  in that I don’t think I’m going to get my Fitzsimmons Family all settling down in a giant castle in Scotland together.  They set up for him to make a sacrifice, he’s grown, and has something he’s really truly fighting for.   I have loved seeing how close he and Jemma have gotten and how fiercely he’s protected her and her secret.  Even in the face of torture he didn’t betray her.  It will come as no surprise if he doesn’t sacrifice himself somehow.  Either in taking a hit for his family or doing something similar to what he did in Season 5 to make sure they got home.  Bringing things full circle.   He also expressed that he wouldn’t mind being stuck in the hot mess timeline in ‘83.  He built himself a nice life there and Nathaniel did a pretty good job of taking out Hydra...with just a bit of Shield hanging on.  So if it comes down to it I don’t see him minding if he gets stuck there.  Sure him saying goodbye to Nana and Bobo is gonna hurt like Hades but if he ends up alive, I’m good.  

Fitzsimmons:  Both live, yes they will scare the crap out of us more than a few times especially after we know about the daughter, but they will live.  Totally peace out, we’ve done our time, leaving Shield with the adorable daughter and its Perthshire or Bust.   They’ve sacrificed enough and will not be willing to risk it again.

May:   Lives and reminds us all that she is one hell of a pilot.  If Mack decides he wants to step down, dies, whatever I’ll throw her back in contention for Director, especially as I see Sousa Following Daisy if she leaves.  Coulson seemed to have set her on that path and at the very least passed the “Team Parent” torch onto her, that it would be her job to give the Coulson talks to those who needed it.  If she’s not Director, she’ll be whomever is right hand, or I still have that option for the Academy being up and running and she’s running that, training the next generation.

Coulson: Lives.I know SHOCKING.   I think he was very ready to throw in the towel after spending 20 months in the TV but then Enoch’s moving words in his death were what changed his mind about ‘powering down” when this is all over.  Coulson realizes that yes, while it is hard to be the one to leave it is harder for the ones that are left behind but it's also necessary that they move on, and live for those they have lost before.  Like Sousa and Fitzsimmons, he’ll be another that they’ll fake out death a few times.   I see him leaving Shield though, taking Lola and finally just going and seeing the world, watching the history he loves so much happen.  We get to see him driving around or even off in Lola for the last time.   Other options include he does something that will allow him to totally run with his new super computer super power.  The final thing I can see him doing is being the coolest professor at the newly rebooted Academy.  

Flint:  Get’s his tacos.

Piper: Keeps being awesome.

Davis:  Better live dang it.

Kiddos Predictions:

That weird device Jemma makes brings Fitz 

Deke sacrifices himself for Fitz

Fitzsimmons and their kid have to leave Shield

Mack leaves shield

Fitzsimmons, Dousy, Mackelena all stay together

Daisy kills Nathaniel, Daisy needs to quake him up

May or Nathaniel will take out Kora.  But if she survives we want Daisy to take her in.

Fitz takes down SIBYL

Piper is watching the Daughter

The daughters name is Olivia

Robo Coulson will sacrifice himself

GHOST RIDER HAD BETTER BE OUR SURPRISE CHARACTER (this was literally shouted at me).  Kiddo 3 voted for PIkachu (Lincoln)

Have no idea what will happen to May

We will get a “flash forward” ending showing what the team that is still alive is doing

Flint gets his tacos

They save the team and have a full out war at some point in time

The episode is going to be super good

Mom is going to cry

Well there it is.  We’ll check back in on Thursday to see how I did!

[concussed-to-pieces]

Whether It Works Out Or Not Part One

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Eventual Arthur Morgan/Named OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: You guys wanna' join me in yeehell? I don't know what's happened to me. I'm from New England. I shouldn't find this cowboy chicanery appealing, and yet here I am with eighty something hours in the game. So! I've only just gotten to Chapter Three and I have avoided spoilers thus far. Enjoy!

[Spoiler warning for the first three chapters of the game!]

Tag List: @huliabitch​ @cookiethewriter​ @pedrosbigdorkenergy​ @thirstworldproblemss​ @anonymouscosmos​ @culturalrebel​ @karmezii​ @teaofpeach​ @crookedmoonsaultpunk​ @zombiexbody​ @nelba​ @gabrielle1776​ @toxiicpop​ @mstgsmy​

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains gore/graphic depictions of violence, historical inaccuracies and general peril. Stay safe!]

Irene Craft had lived as a man for six months when she first met him. 

Six glorious, difficult, yet somehow simultaneously carefree months.

The fateful night she had decided to leave her husband and make her own way in the world had been a long time coming. Every book, every treatise, every pamphlet she could get her hands on, she had devoured. She had no finances to speak of, everything was in her husband's name, so she knew that her struggle would be long and fraught with peril. But she refused to endure the abuse any longer, especially once he made an idle comment about pregnancy and how it would 'bind her to him forever.' 

His bone-chilling chuckle afterwards had stiffened her resolve to steel. She left as the moon waned, her mount's saddlebags full of food and the mended clothes she would need for her new life. 

In the city of Saint Denis, she sold her hair. Once her mother's pride and joy; when brushed out it reached the young woman's hips. The curls were unruly and dull russet in shade, but her mother had sworn up and down they bore auburn tones if the sun hit just right. Irene wondered briefly what her mother would say about her doing this, going to be shorn like a sheep, but she quickly put the thought out of her head. Her mother had been dead for nearly five years at that point, and her father in the ground for two. He had lived long enough to see her married off to the man he deemed a suitable match, and then the good Doctor Craft had passed on.

The barber, at the very least, was sober and much more kind than she had anticipated. He didn't begrudge her the few tears she did let fall, and he gave her a fair price for her locks. 

With that business settled, Irene acquired supplies with her newfound wealth and headed up into the mountains. If her luck held, no one would come looking for such a delicate, fragile lady in the dangerous climes. She would take her chances, regardless.

…

The first few months were...challenging. 

There was a massive difference between having the knowledge from books and having the experience that one could only garner out in the field. Bitter cold and hunger were excellent teachers though, and she had always been a quick study. Her mistakes were not often repeated. 

Irene learned how to fletch her own arrows, learned how to snare small game and how to track large prey, how to build her shelters in the lee of bluffs to fend off the howling winds that whipped through the mountains. She made her living by hunting deer and other game to sell for their hides and meat in the nearby town of Valentine. No one would look for a woman if all they saw was a man, so she kept bundled up and pitched her voice into a low rasp when she needed to interact with other folks. 

Irene had decided, in a fit of petulance, that she would call herself Frank. Franklin had been her father's name, and no doubt if he had been blessed with a son, the child would have been plagued by it as well. Doctor Craft loathed it when folk called him Frank, always correcting them with a belligerent harumph. Saints preserve them if they dared to call him Frankie.

So Frank Craft she became, the soft-spoken hunter who lived alone in the hills.

It was peaceful, but more importantly she was free.

Until the day she stumbled into a trap.

...

Again, she had been living in the mountains for around six months when this particular disaster struck. It had been a long day spent tracking a bull elk, which she had managed to fell just as night blanketed the landscape. Had it still been daylight out, she doubted she would have found herself in such a precarious position.

As it was, she had debated making camp right there, but ultimately decided to lash the hulking beast to her horse and forge her way back to her previous site.

She had been leading her horse through the fresh powder, not wanting to tax the weary animal, and didn't see the bear trap before her boot landed squarely in the middle of it. A mistake that would have cost her the whole leg, had she not been wearing these particular heavy furred boots. The trap also seemed worn, not crushing her foot outright as she had feared but simply gripping her ankle like a vise. 

Though admittedly, it mattered very little. She was stuck. Her horse, a skittish, ghostly pale thing by the name of Bluster, immediately panicked at the sound of the trap snapping shut and fled. Irene swore at the damn animal until her voice threatened to give out, calling him every unkind name in the book while she tried to pry the jaws of the trap open to no avail. 

She sat down awkwardly in the snow, bracing her free foot and then straining backwards in an attempt to unseat the tree that the trap's chain was secured to. Unfortunately for her, it held just fine. Then, she tried hobbling over to the tree and seeing if she could shim the chain off with a wedge, but that also proved futile.

Irene growled more obscenities under her breath, flopping onto her back and hammering her fists into the snow at her sides. "Shit." She sighed, the reality of her situation dawning slowly. She was trapped in a device that would no doubt cut off the circulation to her foot. There was a high probability of her losing the foot if that occurred. If, of course, she didn't perish from the cold or lack of food first. 

Irene pressed her hands to her eyes, sucking in a lungful of the crisp, pine-scented air while she tried to assure herself that she would manage to escape this mess just like all the others. She wouldn't just give up, absolutely not! 

As she sat there wracking her brain and trying to see whether she could muscle the trap apart enough for her to at least wiggle her foot out of her boot, she heard the distinct sound of a horse bumbling through the undergrowth. "Bluster!" She shouted, her voice a strange combination of husky and ragged. "You bastard, runnin' off at the first sign of trouble!"

But the horse that greeted her eyes first was not, in fact, Bluster. It was an appaloosa, still shaggy with its winter coat. On its back was a man in a heavy blue jacket, shearling peeking out at the collar. And in his hands were the reins for the sheepish-looking Bluster, who peered around the appaloosa and whinnied guiltily at her.

"Howdy mister." The man shook Bluster's reins. "I reckon this fine specimen is yours?"

Irene had never been more thankful to see a huge, imposing man in all her life. "Yessir, yes he is. I know we've only just met, but I don't suppose you'd be willing to offer me a helping hand?" She gruffed out, indicating her trapped foot with a grimace.

The man's face was in shadow from his hat, the moonlight overhead throwing everything into stark contrast. She caught a brief flash of teeth when he smiled. "Oh sure." He drawled, dismounting and securing Bluster to a nearby tree. His own horse he simply left the reins to trail, no doubt trusting the creature to behave itself. That done, he sauntered over to her, crouched down and with one low grunt, easily forced the jaws of the trap apart. "There. Simple enough. You weren't in there for very long, were you?" He asked, sounding a bit worried while she vigorously rubbed the circulation back into her leg. With any luck, she would escape with nothing but some bruising.

"My sincerest thanks." Irene said gratefully, "no, it's hardly been an hour." She cocked her head curiously. "May I know the name of my rescuer, sir?"

"Uh, Arthur." He replied, shaking her proffered hand. "You sound like you've got some learnin' under your belt there, Mister…?"

"Frank Craft, Mister Arthur, and I don't know what fate would have befallen me had you not stumbled across the," Irene paused, raising her voice pointedly at Bluster, "titanic coward that is my loyal steed. I'm in your debt, my friend." She waved a hand at Bluster, indicating his heavy burden. "As you can see, I had a relatively successful hunt before this misfortune befell me. Normally I'd head into town with it at daybreak, but seeing as you've saved my life and all, it's only fair that you should have it."

"Whoa now, I ain't helped you to get your hunt." Arthur protested, tipping his head to the side and permitting the moon's illumination to reach beneath the brim of his hat. Irene was momentarily struck dumb by just how blue his eyes were, nearly missing when he continued, "too many folk in this world only help other people on account of gettin' somethin' in return. If I was caught in a trap and I ain't had nothin' to give you for freein' me aside from gratitude, would you leave me?"

"What? No, that's barbaric." Irene almost forgot to adjust her voice, wincing when it cracked awkwardly. 

Arthur chuckled, getting to his feet and offering her a hand up. She stumbled, her foot still numb, and the man kept a firm hand on her elbow until she regained her balance. "Now, that noble hogwash bein' said, I do got a lot of mouths to feed. So if the offer still stands, Mister Frank, I'd be mighty grateful."

"Absolutely! As long as you'll put it to use." And really, what was one day's worth of work to her? She could always find another creature to stalk and harvest. Bluster whickered nervously when she approached, the horse's ears flicking back and forth to catch the sound of her voice when she grumbled about his cowardice. "Kneel, Bluster." The horse clumsily obeyed and Irene untied the elk from his back, rolling it off onto the snow.

"Huh, that's a neat trick. I wouldn't have thought of that." Arthur remarked. "Teachin' a horse his dancin' steps and such."

"How else would I have gotten it up onto him?" Irene asked, grinning when Arthur chuckled again. "Of course, seeing as you muscled that trap open like it was nothing, I doubt you've ever had to worry about that sort of problem."

As if to prove her point, Arthur shouldered the elk up from the ground and neatly deposited it onto his own horse. The sturdy beast didn't so much as nicker, obviously used to this treatment. "You're more than welcome back at my camp, Mister Frank." He offered. "I reckon there's enough on this big bastard to warrant you gettin' a bowl of stew in the bargain."

Irene was already shaking her head before he could finish, politely declining his invitation. "I'm afraid I'm not suitable for most company, Mister Arthur. Been out here alone for too long. Maybe once the thaw hits, I'll suss out human companionship again." 

Arthur chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then spat off to the side. "Well, I am mighty grateful all the same, Mister Frank. I know the others will appreciate this. Adios until we meet again, then?" 

He touched the brim of his hat and Irene returned the gesture with a smile. "Adieu, Mister Arthur."

…

Two months went by before their paths crossed once more. 

Irene had located a dense thicket of blackberry bushes down in the lowlands and spent almost two entire days stripping the branches of their fruit. A house was coming together just outside of Valentine, and that meant soon enough there would be a gathering for the last push of assembly. As she daydreamed about the most recent time she had been to a party (a dreary affair for her husband's birthday, full of ah the stately beauty and oh isn't she a catch despite her age), she failed to notice Bluster growing severely agitated about something. 

Now granted, the horse's name was Bluster for a reason; he was always in a twist about one thing or another. So Irene paid him very little mind. By the time she noticed the problem, Bluster had snapped his tether line and taken off like a shot.

A bear, it was a bear, oh sweet Lord. Irene froze, a handful of berries halfway to her mouth while the beast scratched at the ground not fifteen feet away from her. It hasn't spotted me, she realized, trying desperately to recall what she had read about black bears. Was she supposed to run? Was she supposed to back away slowly? Wave her arms and yell? 

Shit.

The bear grumbled, glancing around and sampling the air suspiciously. It appeared to notice her and reared up on its hind legs, unleashing a deafening roar. She was frozen, her knees shaking as the creature lumbered forward. She couldn't even open her mouth to scream. It rushed her with what seemed to be the devastating speed of a locomotive and she was knocked prone, her hand darting to her side, draw your knife idiot!

Her head flew back from the momentum of the assault and struck the ground hard when she landed, the blow sending sparking wheels of color across her vision and fading everything out for what felt like a lifetime. She had assumed she was dead, but someone shaking her shoulder roughly roused her back to consciousness. Irene groaned in pain, stirring.

"Alright, he lives! Wasn't sure for a little bit there." That voice. She knew that voice. "You comin' 'round, Mister Frank?"

Frank. Frank. Right, that was her. She was Frank. And that voice… "Arthur?" She rasped blearily. 

He was on one knee over her, blocking out the sun with his large form. He inclined his head, drawling, "in the flesh, Mister Frank! Looks like you hit your head real hard when you landed. Put your own lights out."

Irene grimaced, moving to sit up. "Shit," she swore, touching the back of her head and feeling her fingers grow sticky with blood. The bear. She looked around frantically, spotting the creature slumped beside her with an arrow clean through its eye socket. 

Arthur seemed to notice her distress, placing a well-meaning hand on her shoulder. "Easy now, boah. It's okay. You were lucky today, I s'pose." That hand traveled up the back of her neck, the man indelicately tipping her head forward and then whistling as he examined the wound on the back of it. "Damn, you'll have a hell of a scar. Looks like it's already stopped bleedin', though." 

"How did you...where did you even come from?" Irene asked in confusion. 

The man nodded in the direction of a large, grassy knoll to the west of their current location, adjusting himself absentmindedly in his pants when he settled back onto his haunches. Irene still had yet to maneuver that particular tic into her 'masculine' repertoire. She struggled enough with the spitting in public, and the last thing she wanted was to be labeled a pervert or a degenerate simply on account of her adjustments being 'less than organic'. "I didn't notice you was down here until the bear did, I'm pretty sure." He remarked. "Think you startled him as much as he startled you. You foragin' for berries?"

"Yes, I...I was thinking about treats and parties and I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention." Irene admitted, her face going a little red. Whether from the frank thoughts of adjusting or the shame of being caught unawares, she was uncertain.

"Blackberry pie, right?" Arthur hummed, obviously sympathizing with her distraction. "Means summer's really here. You bake things like that?" He rummaged in his satchel without waiting for a reply, pulling out a bandanna and two bottles. One bottle she recognized as whiskey, but the other was much smaller and made of a greenish glass. "You're gonna' want this to take the edge off." Arthur informed her calmly, pressing the bottle of whiskey into her hand and then uncorking the small bottle with his teeth.

"Edge?" She asked, wary now.

"Eeyup. Take a swig and I'll get started on this."

This was, apparently, cleaning and dressing the wound on the back of her head. Which, incidentally, the lone slug of whiskey she drank did nothing for. She didn't dare consume any more than that, however. Wine in the drawing room was one thing, but whiskey out in the berry patch was a horse of a different color. Arthur was at least capable, if a little more ruthless than the average physician. She had endured worse. 

"You're a real lucky boah, Frank. Ain't deep enough to need stitchin'." 

"I do feel immensely lucky today." Irene replied dryly, "a dead bear at my feet, a stomach full of fresh blackberries and a bottle of whiskey in my hand. Tell me, how could my life get any better than this?" She cringed in pain but the sensation quickly dulled in the wake of Arthur's gravelly chuckle.

"Gotta' say, you did a damn fine job of distractin' that bear. Let me get the easiest shot I've ever taken." He remarked conversationally after several minutes of silence. 

"Mister Arthur, should I ask what it is that you're daubing all over the back of my head? Or is that a fool's errand?"

"What, this? Some uh…" he paused, flipping the bottle over and squinting at the label. "Ginseng and yarrow. Ol' Hosea swears by it and he's been alive longer n' most."

Irene relaxed slightly. The combination didn't sound too sinister, though she was unfamiliar with herbal medicine that wasn't refined tinctures. This was more of a paste than anything, Arthur constantly stopping to coax a bit more of it down the neck of the bottle. "Well, I'm very grateful, Mister Arthur. You don't have to-"

"I know." Arthur interrupted her. "You ain't beholden to me or anythin', don't fret. Though if you'd like to stick around an' help me butcher up that bear, I wouldn't say no." 

"Are you still hunting for a small army?"

Arthur sounded rueful when he replied, "feels like there's more of 'em every damn day. I'll be takin' this kill into town. The women want the essentials, their flour and sugar and such." He grumbled, "dunno' why they need so damn much flour."

"Well, how else will they make pies?" Irene pointed out.

"Huh. S'pose you're right." Arthur said after a moment, seeming surprised. "Guess I never grew out the phase of thinkin' pies an' cakes just show up fresh on windowsills."

Cleanly skinning and butchering the good-sized bear was a long and arduous process, even with two sets of hands working on the task. Bluster had reemerged from the woods after a time and now grazed peacefully alongside Arthur's mare, that appaloosa from before who had since shed her winter coat. 

Arthur finally sat back on his haunches, wiping the sweat off his forehead and accidentally leaving a rusty red trail of blood in its wake. "Welp, I dunno' about you, Mister Frank. But I could certainly do with a wash-up and a meal." He had taken his hat off while they worked, his tawny, sun-streaked hair curling around his ears and sticking out at odd angles from the sweat. "Join me for supper, won't you?" He requested, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the stream that flowed in a gully past the knoll. "Ain't nobody can chide me about takin' the best bits of the critter if nobody knows." He continued with a smirk. "Can I trust you not to rat me out, Frank?"

Irene hesitated. She was hungry and tired from the long day. Arthur didn't seem all that dangerous. Or rather, he obviously was, but in a way that was honest and blunt. "Absolutely." She replied firmly. "Your secret is safe with me, Mister Arthur."

"Now, I am gonna' ask for a handful or two of them berries you got." Arthur carried on as he got to his feet, extending a hand to help her up. "As rec...recompense and such."

Irene sighed dramatically. "Ah, I should have known no good deed goes unpunished. And here I thought that offering myself up as unwitting bait was more than enough to justify a mouthful or two of meat."

Arthur's laugh was raucous, the large man clapping her on the back hard enough to make her stumble. "You're a good man, Frank."

"Nowhere near as good as you, Arthur." She retorted with a grin, confused by the way his face darkened.

"'Fraid I'd never be able to claim that title, Frank." Arthur said quietly, the mirth gone from his expression. "Beardless youth like yourself ain't oughta' cast me in any sort of decent light. I ain't a good person."

"Hey, what was it you said when you freed me up from that trap? 'Too many folk in this world only help other people on account of gettin' somethin' in return', right?" Irene reminded him, trying to mimic his deep, honeyed drawl. She must have done a poor job, because Arthur cracked a reluctant smile. "You've helped me twice, now! Surely that warrants a smattering of decent light, wouldn't you agree?"

"Aw hell, Frank, I just don't want you developin' any lofty notions about my character is all! Don't want you gettin' your hopes dashed." Arthur protested. "I ain't no saint or role model or anythin' like that."

"Don't worry about my preconceptions, Mister Arthur. I don't view you as a role model at all." Irene wanted to laugh at how crestfallen he looked, despite his big talk. She splashed water on her hands, scrubbing at the blood on them with some of the sand from the riverbed. "I view you as a friend. A friend with flaws and drawbacks just like myself. Just like all human beings have." She elaborated, startled when Arthur crouched beside her on the riverbank and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you." The man said sincerely, his blue eyes warm and bright. "That means a whole lot to me, Mister Frank. I'd like to count you as a friend myself, if I could."

Irene forgot her tongue for a moment, ensnared by the blatantly hopeful look he was giving her. He must have any woman within fifty miles of here falling head over heels for him! "You'll have a remarkably difficult time trying to get rid of me, Mister Arthur. I'm very persistent." She finally managed to respond. "Like a mangy mutt once you feed it some table scraps."

"I reckon it's settled then." Arthur's smile had returned, and Irene found herself oddly pleased that she had been the one to bring it back.

...

They camped there under the stars that night. 

Arthur planned to head into town the following day, where he would sell off the bear and then assist in the last few steps of the house building. But for now, he occupied himself with creating a roast fit for a king. Irene watched curiously as he studded the whole cut with herbs, finally daring to ask him a few questions about cooking. He obliged her with answers graciously and freely. Despite his opinionated stance on baking, he obviously had no such reservations when it came to cooking.

"I'm always afraid my ignorance of plants will get me into serious trouble. Lord only knows how many poisonous things I could consume if left to my own devices." Irene admitted, certain that he must think her foolish.

Arthur rummaged around in his satchel and pulled out a worn leather-bound journal. He tossed her the notebook, chuckling lowly when she nearly fumbled it. "I sketch a fair amount, look at the last pages. Check the margins for whether it's edible or not."

When she tugged loose the strap that held the journal closed and obediently cracked it open to the last few pages, Irene was flabbergasted. Sprawled across the pages were both detailed drawings and fleeting sketches of various plants and animals. "Arthur," she said, her voice breaking as she nearly forgot to pitch it lower. The older man glanced up at her, his brow furrowed. "These are incredible."

"What is?" Arthur asked in confusion. It abruptly seemed to dawn on him and he grinned sheepishly, shaking his head. "Oh, my l'il drawin's? They're just somethin' to pass the time, mostly. Done 'em ever since I was a kid."

"They're amazing!" Irene praised, making sure her hands were clean and free of grease before she even dared to hover her fingertips over the sketched snout of a border collie. "You actually capture the motion of the creature, which is a rare talent. I've seen a lot of art in my day, Mister Arthur, but few pieces have the same amount of life in them that your work displays."

"Aw shucks Frank, you're layin' it on pretty thick ain't ya'?" Arthur protested, and his face might not have been pink from just the heat of the fire. "It's nothin' special."

"Oh it absolutely is. These are...I mean all the plants are so detailed. Easily identifiable. Can you draw people and structures as well?" 

Arthur took the journal back and carefully flipped through it to a few different pages, showing her that his skill extended to more than just plants and animals. An oil derrick sketched proud and tall against the blank-page sky, a blind man who he had come across in his travels, a two-page spread of a small camp titled Horseshoe Overlook...  "Like I said, though, ain't nothin' special." He finished firmly, tucking the sketchbook back into his satchel. 

"You ought to make a book!" Irene suggested. "For those of us ingrates that wouldn't know oregano from our elbow."

"Me? A book?" Arthur scoffed at the idea. "Last thing I want is more attention."

"Well...you could do it under a pseudonym!"

"A what? Listen here, Frank, I ain't no good Christian man, but I ain't about to pseudo...seedo...look, I ain't doin' nothin' to nobody's nims, alright?" Arthur sounded absolutely scandalised. 

"Arthur, a pseudonym is just a fake name." Irene explained.

"Oh. Oh. Shit. Well I knew that." Arthur blustered at her, huffing out a breath. "Just...makin' sure you knew, is all!"

"Of course." Irene got to her feet, dusting herself off. "So. He can cook, he can draw, he can hunt…" she trailed off, doing her best to keep her tone light as Arthur continued to mumble in a flustered manner and fidget with the brim of his hat. "Is there anything you can't do, Mister Arthur?"

His laugh in reply was devoid of humor, a bitter noise. "Sure. Can't seem to stay out of trouble. More accurately though, can't seem to avoid gettin' dragged into trouble."

Irene squatted beside him next to the fire, debating giving his shoulder a rough shove of comradery. But the concern of accidentally knocking him over into the embers was enough to make her gentle her touch to a light pat. "I'm sorry to hear that, Arthur." She said quietly.

"Ah, don't pay me no mind, Frank. I'm just bellyachin'." Arthur placed his hand over hers absently, like it was an instinctive response. "You're a good kid. Don't get yourself tangled up in someone else's woes like I have, you understand me?" He admonished her sternly. 

"I'm hardly a child, Mister Arthur." Irene protested. "I am nearly twenty-seven." 

"What, without a lick of facial hair and your voice still shatterin'?" He teased, grazing her bare jaw with a large hand. "Naw, you ain't. But it's okay, your secret's safe with me."

"Arthur." Irene grabbed his hand, staring him down. She wasn't sure why this of all things was what she was caught up on. Maybe it was the notion that he believed she, or rather, Frank, was some fool stripling that had just been lucky so far. "I'm not a child."

Arthur stared at her, and for a split-second Irene was certain she had sold herself out. But then the older man abruptly guffawed, clapping her on the back. "No, I s'pose you ain't. You got old steel in them eyes of yours, Frank. Seen too much for your time on this earth, I imagine."

...

The final day had come at long last. 

Irene hurried to help finish the last few clapboards for the outside of the house, nearly crushing her thumb with the hammer in her haste. 

Various men and women from Valentine proper had already started to gather in the yard. Tables were being shuffled together, delicious smells coming from the freshly-christened firepit. Spirits were high and laughter was loud in the sunshine of midday, and Irene couldn't help her smile as she looked around. 

It was truly a marvelous thing to be a part of a community that willingly accepted anyone who would help, regardless of their past transgressions. She felt utterly at peace here, even in the midst of such organized chaos. 

A heavy arm landed around her shoulders and she felt a hand nearly shove the hat clean off her head. "There he is!" Arthur announced gladly, making her laugh. "It's finally time for the fun! You gonna' be stickin' around this evenin'?" 

"Maybe." Irene allowed, letting him haul her into his side with his grip on her shoulders. Arthur didn't seem to actually know just how strong he was, which strangely enough made her feel safer around him. "And you, Arthur?"

"I wouldn't miss it!" The man replied, his voice bright with excitement. "Been too long since there was a reason to celebrate. Was a hard winter. Folks need this shit." 

"Absolutely." Irene ducked out from beneath his arm and straightened her hat. "I'll see you later, Arthur. Gotta' go get washed up!" 

Valentine was barely a five minute walk down the road, but impatience ate away at her and she broke into a jog. She'd hatched a plan for tonight. A foolhardy, stupid plan. She still had no clear idea why she was doing this, even as she sauntered up the steps to the Valentine hotel. 

Irene slapped her money down on the counter, paying up front for a bath and a room for the night. Her spurs rattled loudly while she made her way up the stairs, nerves building in her throat like frantic bird wings beating away just beneath the skin.

It had been a short eternity since she had even seen herself in a looking glass, much less worn a dress. 

The dress itself was nothing like the elaborate ones she had worn during her marriage. It was a plain fawn-brown color, lacking in lace trim or cumbersome whale bone buttons. A dress for this new life she had made, one that she could don and doff unaided.

Once she had scrubbed herself pink with the provided tub of hot bathwater and lye soap that threatened to be iris-scented, of all things, Irene stepped into the dress and slowly buttoned the tiny buttons that ran the length of the front. Thankfully, the cut was modest enough that she wouldn't need a fichu to cover up with.

She had been avoiding looking at herself in the mirror until she absolutely had to, and when she finally did gather her courage she was shocked by what met her gaze. She looked older, of course, a bit more weathered, but she looked alive. She had haunted her husband's house like a ghost, gaunt and battered and seen not heard. Now though, her eyes were clear and her cheeks were pink even without pinching, a byproduct of the fresh outdoor air. Her shoulders were freckled liberally as well, though the dress hid them well enough with its high neckline and long sleeves. Her mother had always tried to dull her freckles out with those blasted rose tea treatments and lemon, but the spots had stubbornly persisted.

Her hair though…

She grimaced, raking her fingers through the sun-lightened corkscrews that bounced and sprang back around her ears. It seemed that, as usual, her hair would be hopelessly unmanageable. Mercifully, since she always wore a hat, at least her hair wouldn't be the thing to give her away. Wonder of all wonders, it did appear that there was some auburn mixed in with the brown.

Irene emerged from her room, locking the door securely behind her and tucking the key into her pocket. She paused to straighten out her skirts, smiling a little dumbly downwards at the pleats while she swished back and forth in a brief moment of indulgence. However, no sooner had she stopped to do so than a large body in a hurry nearly toppled her over. She heard a startled grunt as the person managed to catch her, and then a familiar voice apologized, "sorry ma'am! 'Fraid I'm like a bull in a china shop sometimes."

Arthur, it was Arthur. Oh Lord. Irene stared at his boots in an effort to buy herself time to collect her thoughts, noticing dimly that he too had bathed and clearly attempted to tidy himself up. Did she come clean right now? Confess that she wasn't Frank at all, but Irene? Lord, this whole plan was stupid! What had she been thinking?! "Oh no sir, I should be the one apologizing. I was so excited for the festivities I appear to have forgotten my sensibilities." Her voice was soft and she looked up at him through her lashes, wondering whether he would even recognize her without a layer of grime on her face. "Forgive my inattention, won't you?"

Arthur, for some reason, swallowed hard. "Well, ain't you just as pleasant as punch! You must be from outta' town. My name's Arthur, ma'am, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He gave her a little half-bow and Irene barely contained her relief at his blatant unfamiliarity with her. Obviously she needn't have worried. 

"My name is Irene, Mister Arthur, and trust me, the pleasure is all mine." She replied, automatically accepting the hand he offered. "Are you looking forward to the party as well?"

"Oh sure, Miss Irene." That drawl lingered sinfully on the syllables of her Christian name and Irene felt herself blush. "It's a rough life out here, only makes sense for folks to take what joy they can find where they can find it." Arthur glanced down at her, his smile a bit melancholy. "House raisin's hard work, but it's less tedious if we all know there's somethin' lighthearted waitin' at the end. Good food, good company…" He trailed off, clearing his throat.

"Of that, I'm certain!" Irene dared to continue holding his arm once they reached the street, and Arthur made no move to dislodge her. "Do you think there will be dancing, Mister Arthur?"

He chuckled at her obvious excitement. "I s'pose there might be. I'm not much one for dancin', though."

"Well," Irene said boldly, "I would be just delighted if I could steal a dance with you at some point this evening."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up to his golden-brown hairline. "You sure you got the right feller, ma'am?" 

"Of course! Please Arthur, won't you save me a dance?" She implored sweetly.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, which one of 'em put you up to this? It was Karen, weren't it. Woman won't stop interferin' in my personal affairs." He growled, "I ain't lookin' for pity, Miss Irene."

"What?" Irene asked in confusion. "No, I haven't been put up to anything. I...I simply wanted a dance. Have I offended you, Mister Arthur?" This could be an irreparable blunder! Her plan might be in shambles.

"Aw hell, now I feel like a fool." Arthur rubbed a hand over the back of his neck sheepishly. "Pardon my suspicion, Miss Irene. I'm used to bein' passed over is all." He mumbled. 

"What?" Irene gasped theatrically, loving the way his laughter rumbled in his chest. "A fine man such as yourself, passed over? That's deplorable, Mister Arthur!"

"Shucks ma'am, I'm passable decent, but I don't know if I'd ever call myself fine." Arthur smiled, his face a bright, endearing pink. Oh, complimenting him elicited the sweetest results! Irene was enraptured.

"Would you accompany me along the path to the festivities, Mister Arthur? I'm afraid I have no chaperone this evening." She implored. It was so strange, sliding easily back into being able to make polite conversation or clinging to an arm with rapt attention while a man spoke. She supposed all those etiquette lessons had done her some good. At least with Arthur she didn't have to feign her attention.

He nodded, swallowing hard again. "Sure, I can do that, Miss Irene."

"Oh!" Irene said suddenly like a thought had just occurred to her, the young woman making a move to pull away. "I apologize, Mister Arthur. It is so presumptive of me to monopolize your time. Did I interrupt you on your way to the Mrs. Arthur? Or perhaps a tryst with your beloved? I'm afraid I've always been rather self-absorbed, do forgive me."

He chuckled sadly, shaking his head. "Ma'am, there's no need for all that." He said, patting her arm in a way that he probably believed was soothing. Irene barely refrained from laughing at the knowledge that he calmed people like he calmed his horse. "All I'm headin' for tonight is some merriment with the local folk." He paused, still patting her hand absently. "Y'know, I think you'd get on real well with a friend of mine by the name of Frank." Arthur remarked, appearing oblivious to the way she froze. "He's got some real hellfirin' opinions and a noble heart. Nothin' like me at all, a genuine, sweet boah. Outspoken, but kinda' shy 'round lots of folks. If we stumble across him, I'll introduce you."

"Oh I very much doubt that we'll see him tonight." Irene muttered under her breath to herself, a little puffed up by the praise Arthur had inadvertently lavished upon her.

…

There was indeed food and drink, and Irene found herself in the midst of conversation more often than not. It was incredibly amusing to know that all she needed to do was wash the dirt off her face and don a dress to make 'Frank' disappear into the ether. But again, that had been the whole point.  

The musicians were tuning up when she noticed something odd. There was an unmanned violin (or fiddle, perhaps), sitting forlorn and silent on the front steps. Irene straightened out her dress and made her way carefully over to the stairs. "Pardon me, sirs," she called cheerfully. "but where is your violinist?"

"Ah, I'm sorry ma'am, but ol' Jefferson died durin' the winter." The guitarist informed her, looking a touch morose. "Figured we'd bring out his Hyde so it could at least listen to all the hubbub. Be a shame to leave it to gather dust."

"My deepest condolences." Irene murmured, going to turn away and then biting her lip as she paused. "Sirs, I...perhaps I could be of assistance? I have...some prior experience with violin." Nobody needed to know about the years spent learning, and the few bright moments in her marriage being her improvising quick, jaunty tunes alone in the drawing room. Leaving the instrument behind had been like leaving a piece of her heart, but it was so delicate and fragile…

"Well if you think you can keep up, you're more n' welcome to rosin the bow ma'am." The man smiled, gesturing at the fiddle. "It would do it some good to be played again, I'll wager." 

Irene was scooping up the instrument almost before he had finished speaking, immensely pleased to find out that it was relatively in tune. The man that she assumed would be the step caller graciously handed her a handkerchief to pad her cheek when she tucked the violin into place, and Irene spent several minutes hurriedly tightening and rosining up the bow. 

The first draw emitted a note that was clear, if a bit flat. Irene grinned sheepishly, fidgeting with the tuning pegs and then trying again. Ah, there it was. The instrument had a beautifully rich voice, no doubt facilitated by the stockier body it bore.

"Ladies and gentlemen, finish up your food! It's time for the real fun to begin!" The caller announced over the buzz of the populace. Tables began to move out of the way, clearing the front yard. 

"I see you're the fiddler this evenin'?" Irene started at the sound of Arthur's voice. She had lost track of him shortly after arriving to the party, the man apologizing to her even while he was getting dragged off by a dark-haired woman in a beautiful green dress. Now, he reclined against the railing, his eyes troubled but smile firmly in place.

"Hopefully, if the good Lord is merciful. It has been quite a while." Irene admitted. "I'd still very much like that dance, Arthur, if your other beaus don't keep you occupied." She jibed. Perhaps it was a bit bold for a woman to comment on an older man's pursuits, but she did feel that she could get away with a touch of good-natured ribbing.

"Welp," Arthur drawled, doffing his hat. "I s'pose we'll just have to see how the night goes, Miss Irene. I wouldn't call 'em beaus though. Just folks that want somethin' from me."

Irene tilted her head to the side, but Arthur managed to avoid her gaze. Following his line of sight, she noticed he appeared to be watching the dark-haired woman from earlier. "Who is your friend? I must know her seamstress, Mister Arthur, because that dress is lovely." 

"Mary." Arthur muttered, the name sounding like it was dragged out of him. "Uh, that is, the widow Linton."

"Oh no, the poor thing." Irene said sadly, meaning every word. There had been a time in her life where she had been utterly devoted to her fiance, believing that she had truly loved him. She could not begrudge anyone their own happiness, as wary as she had been made from her past experience. As the saying went, 'see how the bear behaves in its den before you decide to live with it.' 

"Eeyup, real shame. Pneumonia got him." Arthur informed her curtly.

Irene was sure her sympathy was evident on her face, because Arthur's sharp blue eyes had softened slightly when he looked back at her. Pneumonia was so sinister in its onset, the way it settled into the chest and by the time most patients realized it wasn't a cold, they were too far gone to help. "You should ask her to dance! Get her mind off of things." She suggested.

Arthur chuffed out a breath in a manner that was so similar to his horse Irene had to chew her lower lip to stave off her laughter. "Nope." He said firmly. "Mary shall not dance with me, Miss Irene. Not if I have anythin' to say about it. I doubt I'll dance much at all, honestly."

…

Arthur appeared to be sticking to his word throughout the night. He was indeed not much for dancing, but as he drank he got progressively more mobile. It was like his body loosened up, he smiled more, laughed louder…

He seemed absolutely thrilled when she found him later that evening, saying plainly, "There she is! I figured you forgot about me!" 

Irene shook her head, smiling up at him. She had politely declined her way across nearly the entire yard in order to reach him. "I don't think I ever could, Mister Arthur. May I ask for a dance?"

"Obliged to oblige, ma'am." Arthur extended a hand, drawing her in almost indecently close. "That was some fine music you played earlier." He drawled after a moment. 

Irene simply let herself be swayed back and forth, one hand on his shoulder and the other still entwined with his own. "Thank you." She replied softly. "It has been a while since I was able to indulge myself."

"Fiddlin' ain't a vice, ma'am." Arthur protested.

Irene chuckled. "Some might disagree, Mister Arthur."

"Well, they're wrong. How the hell could music be bad for someone?" He removed his hand from her hip to wave over at the group of men who were still currently playing away. "Music's good for the soul. Makes everythin' lighter. What miserable fools have you had to deal with?" Arthur grumbled.

Irene rolled her eyes comically. "Lord, you don't know the half of it!"

Arthur pressed her even tighter to his body, his breath hot over her ear when he murmured, "well Irene, they're dead wrong."

"Mister Arthur…" Irene went bright red at his proximity, at the heat that flooded her. What a strange sensation! Even back when she had been newly betrothed, before she had known her then-fiancé's cruelty, she had never experienced such a fierce reaction from a simple close whisper. Was it only to be chalked up to the newness of the experience? Or was it because it was Arthur doing it? 

"Irene, I hope I ain't bein' too forward when I...would you like to…" Arthur trailed off, clearing his throat. "I mean, I ain't got anythin' to offer you aside from a good time," he continued to hem and haw. "You seem like a genuine lady and I...someone like me ain't never really been allowed to touch that sort of person. I sleep under the stars and drink too much for anyone's good, never mind my own." His eyes met her own and a slow, almost forlorn smile played across his mouth. 

Despite the ribald impropriety of his words he looked so utterly tender, his hat slightly tilted and his eyes drowsily gentle. Irene found herself nodding before he even managed to actually ask her. "I have a room for the night, Mister Arthur. I am…" she hesitated. "Not...very experienced, but not inexperienced."

"Thank God." Arthur replied, surprising her. "You wouldn't want someone like me for somethin' like your first time."

"Oh?" Clearly, they had careened past the point of polite or appropriate conversation. But now, she was curious. "Why is that, Mister Arthur?"

He coughed, fidgeting with the brim of his hat. "I'm just...I'm not...fit for that sorta' thing. Not worth it. Fine ladies deserve a proper gentleman an' I ain't that." He stated. 

"Arthur…" Irene took his hands and tugged on them, leading him out of the yard and towards the roadside. "You're more of a gentleman than most, I can promise you that." She insisted.

"Miss Irene, wait!" The sound of her name being yelled made her pause, and Irene found herself abruptly confronted with the step caller as he thrust the fiddle's sturdy case at her. "Me and the boys, we got to talkin'. We figure you ought to keep the old Hyde, as a thank you of sorts." He said, sweeping his hat off his head. "Besides, if you leave it here it'll never be played. And there's nothin' worse than an unplayed fiddle. Believe me, I would know!" 

"I…" Irene wanted to burst into tears. This was so unexpected and kind. The case settled into her arms, like an old friend already. "B-But I have no way to-"

"Not for money ma'am. Simply for liftin' folks' spirits tonight. You take that Hyde and you spread that gift of yours around." 

"Thank you." Irene said sincerely, "I...you have no idea how much this means to me, sir."

"Mighty kind of you fellers." Arthur added, his grin a little sheepish when the caller turned his attention on him to express his thanks for Arthur's help in acquiring the remaining lumber for the house. He tried to wave off the praise to no avail, looking increasingly awkward the longer he was subjected to the step caller's enthusiasm.

The woman from earlier (Irene wracked her brain for a moment before remembering Mary, Mary) approached on Arthur's opposite side while he was preoccupied with the step caller. However, she didn't miss the way Arthur's posture went tight as he noticed Mary standing there expectantly. Arthur suddenly seized Irene's hand, muttered a curt, "obliged," to the step caller and set off at a brisk pace down the road. 

"Don't forget that you promised, Arthur Morgan!" The widow Linton called after him, her voice sharp. Arthur just waved a dismissive hand in her general direction.

Irene struggled to keep up even after Arthur scooped the case out of her arms, the man's longer legs easily outstripping her own. "Arthur, can you slow down?" She implored, a little fearful now. He looked like he was stewing, his shoulders squared against some invisible adversary.

Arthur obliged her in silence. He maintained that silence until they reached the outskirts of town, where he clarified, "you had a room, right?"

"Yes, I...yes. For the night." Irene answered softly. Arthur just nodded in reply. "Arthur, you don't-"

"I ain't gonna' hurt you." He cut her off. "You have my word, Miss Irene. Ain't got nothin' to fear from me."

Irene was still more than a touch anxious as they ascended the stairs, and she almost dropped the key, fumbling to get it into the lock. Arthur hummed low in his throat, that comforting horse pat landing on her arm again and soothing her enough that she managed to get the door open.

Arthur carefully set the case against the wall, and then he was on her. He kissed hungrily, his whole body pressed to hers before the door was even fully shut behind them. His tongue plunged into her mouth without so much as a warning or a by your leave. Irene had only read about this kind of kissing and experiencing it firsthand was composure-shattering. She found herself weak at the knees, grateful for the weight of Arthur's large form to anchor herself as he boldly coaxed her tongue to reply.

Irene shyly licked into his mouth, making a soft noise that had Arthur shuddering and offering his own groan in response. He pulled away, slow, like he was being dragged, and struggled to bring her with him.

The man sat down hard on the bed, urging her close in between his spread legs. Then, Arthur grabbed two handfuls of the back of her dress and rested his forehead on the spot directly beneath her breasts. 

Irene froze, confused until she felt his shoulders tremble. 

He was crying, like his heart was fit to break. Deep, shuddering sobs that came from somewhere by the floorboards and ravaged his entire body on the way up. Hesitantly, Irene carded her fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head. She could feel the tears seeping into the fabric of her dress, slowly dampening the material.

"It's just never enough." Arthur finally said thickly. He stayed where he was, wearily slurring into her abdomen, "I give an' I give an' I do an' it's just...never enough to make folks happy."

"Arthur..." Irene whispered. She felt silly for not noticing sooner than something was very wrong, guilt rushing her as she realized that she had been so caught up in him giving her attention that she must have missed the signs.

"It's never enough that I'm just there, still alive, still willin', even though I'm a damn fool. Never enough." He mumbled, "God, I'm a fool."

"No you're not." Irene said firmly. Arthur looked up at her. "You're brave, you're loyal and you're kind, Arthur. It's not your fault that the people around you seem to have taken those traits for granted."

"We was plannin' to be married, y'know. Me an'...me an' Mary." He confessed abruptly, not that he needed to. "Or maybe it was just me plannin'. She...I just don't know."

"What happened? Did she call it off?"

"Her daddy, he didn't approve of me. I didn't have...enough," Arthur explained, his words stilted as he recounted probably more than he meant to. "I was orphaned pretty early on and I...well shit, I hung around with folks bad and good an' to Mr. Gillis, that was worth a condemnation. Forbade it. Said I was filthy, that I'd c'rupt...corrupt her. Ruin her. Break her with these turrible hands of mine." The hands in question gripped Irene's dress even tighter and he fought back a sob. "So I...I had to let her go. Watched her fall in love with some rich feller and it made me wonder, made me scared that she ain't never loved me at all. And then tonight..." He shook his head.

"What about tonight, Arthur?" Irene prompted him gently.

"She come to me askin' for a damn favor. After everythin' that's happened, she still had the damn gall to ask me for shit. Her little brother's gone off to shack up with some cult ." Arthur cleared his throat. "So I'm too rough to marry, but I'm sure as hell good enough to ask to rescue her precious baby brother. She said she thinks of me often and I just...dammit, it ain't right for her to tell me that!" He erupted, hiccupping out yet another sob. "It ain't right, I finally thought I was--I mean I was doin' okay, I was better, an' now…"

"It feels like you just hit a patch of shale and slid your way back down into the bottom of the gorge you were crawling out of." 

Arthur sniffled. "Well, yeah. Kinda'. H-How'd you know?"

"You think you're the only person in the world to have troubles with people you were trying to recover from?" Irene's laugh was soft and sad. "My situation is a bit different, but no less weighty for it, Mister Arthur."

Arthur huffed out a breath, rubbing his forehead back and forth on her stomach. "I just hate myself. Can't hate her, all I can do is hate m'self." He sighed.

"Don't." Irene admonished him, trawling her fingers through his thick hair and dragging his head back with the motion. Arthur groaned again, this time lower, his eyes half-lidding as he appeared to enjoy being ministered to. "Don't hate yourself for being kind, Arthur, and don't let the world beat that kindness out of you. There are people, so many people who will love you for it. Hell, there's probably some that already do." 

Blue eyes blinked open sluggishly, still glassy with tears as he looked up at her. Liquor-honest words tumbled from his lips, "why the hell are you bein' so nice to me? Led you up here for a reason an' now I'm all a mess about another woman." He shook his head, not waiting for a response before continuing, "I just wanna' sleep. Forget about all of this. I...lay down with me? I need...I need...somethin' to hang onto." He mumbled, tugging at the back of her skirt. "Clothes on is fine. Just need to hold you. Few minutes, even." He pleaded.

Irene bit her lip uncertainly. Laying down fully-clothed? It seemed a bit strange. But she didn't have on a corset, so at least she wouldn't be uncomfortable… "Alright." She agreed softly after a moment, reaching down to unlace her boots. Hopefully Arthur was too inebriated to notice that 'her' boots were also Frank's boots. He seemed more than a few sheets to the wind, if his weeping was anything to judge by.

Arthur clumsily kicked off his own boots and laid on his side, catching her arm to guide her down with her back to his chest. It was somewhat awkward at first; Irene had never actually been held in such a manner and the bed was incredibly small. She knew she was probably too stiff, and slowly urged her shoulders to loosen a bit. Arthur draped his arm over her hips, not even holding her so much as he was simply laying his hand on her stomach.

"Thank you." He mumbled into the back of her neck, still sniffling a little. 

Irene tentatively placed her hand over his own, lacing her fingers through his. "Shh, sleep. You'll feel better in the morning, Arthur." She whispered. Then, so quiet she wasn't sure he would even hear her, "thank you, Arthur. For everything."

Part Two: Friends

[shinneth]

subject to future deletion

Normally I wouldn’t resort to that and I might end up being too lazy to do it anyway, but between getting sick again, dealing with some very intense verbal abuse every day irl, and the monthly burdens of the gender, I’m really not in a good place right now and I need to vent something. 

It’s officially gotten bad enough to interfere with my ability to write, even though I’m at a point in my current story that I’ve been very eager to reach... and every step of the way I’m struggling to write it and I hate what I currently have and it’s taking everything in my current power to not just scrap it entirely. 

Basically, I think I’m failing as a writer.

The irl stuff is actually not what I’m gonna get into because it’s really nothing new and it’ll probably resolve itself, but the side-effect of suffering that kind of negativity is that it enhances lingering negative feelings you’ve had about other things.

Namely, things you do to get away from the pains of the real world. The things you do to have fun and get some enjoyment out of life, no matter how challenging it is to be in this thing because it’s so wrongfully derided and demonized by the majority of your peers.

I try to keep telling myself it’s just because I’m still relatively very new to the fandom compared to my contemporaries, but as I’m typing this right now and listening to my favorite wrestler Shelton Benjamin in an interview, immediately I see the pit I’m starting to fall into. 

Like, it’s uncanny. This is what he said as I started on the above paragraph:

“If I sit and constantly compare myself to other people’s successes, you would drive yourself crazy. Because no matter what, there’s always someone who’s gonna be more successful.”

“I need to remember where I come from; how far I’ve came.”

Basically, in the very small world of Stevidot (and to a lesser extent, SU’s fandom as a whole), despite my efforts, I feel very much like the Shelton Benjamin in a small, dedicated group of talented Stevidot content creators.

Which is to say, I’m basically a midcarder in the mix with a bunch of top-tier legends. Shelton graduated from the same group as some modern very well-known mainstream stars that I can easily associate with a very well-known and accomplished Stevidot contributor.

Shelton graduated with the likes of John Cena, Brock Lesnar, Dave Batista, and Randy Orton. At least half of those names should be at least vaguely familiar for my followers as most of them have had such great success that they’re known in avenues beyond wrestling (save for Randy Orton, but he’s well past outshined his father as a legendary wrestler who’ll never be forgotten). 

I could easily say Watcher is the John Cena of Stevidot, while Platon’s probably the Brock Lesnar... sinderella0069′s the Batista. But I honestly don’t feel like I’ve done enough (or stood out enough) to even be a Randy Orton for this pairing. I’d at least give that honor to Ig just for being so active with it on Tumblr despite the wave of hatred thrown her way (even though she’s shifted focus onto Stevinel now). 

Again, I keep trying to tell myself that it’s because I’m not even remotely as tenured in the fandom as any of them are. 

Then I see this said in a review on a very recently-made Stevidot story...

And said reviewer has not once ever left a review on any Stevidot story of mine. Not even a follow or a favorite or a goddamned kudos. Considering I currently have an actively-updated Stevidot story going on (and a two-shot that I just did last month), I highly doubt my stuff was just overlooked.

Now, is it true that Stevidot is hard to come by? Of course it is. But this isn’t the first time I’ve seen a fellow Stevidot fan lament about the lack of Stevidot content while completely disregarding anything I contribute.

I know there’s one that outright doesn’t like my content based on personal taste (nothing to do with Stevidot itself, just how I execute it). There’s another big-name who shows no interest whatsoever in reading what I have to offer - and at this point I feel that’s for the best, because I have a feeling they’d hate my execution as well. 

While I’ve always primarily written for myself, I also felt a great fulfillment for providing content for a niche crowd that really deserves more than what they have. I think Stevidot’s a fantastic pairing with tons of unexplored potential and should be much more readily available than it actually is. Even if I tend to not get many reviews, I keep track of the site traffic every day on my stories and I know for sure that there are people reading my stuff. Since I’m really bad at leaving reviews myself, I go out of my way not to whine about not having very many overall for my series since I’d be a huge-ass hypocrite to do so. 

However.

Statements like the the aforementioned review and statements I’ve seen elsewhere by those who I know are at least aware of me are like stakes through the heart.

Because it can only mean one thing: my content doesn’t count.

I’m honestly not sure which is worse for me; being critically panned for the stuff I’ve put my all into over the past year, or being treated like my stuff doesn’t even exist. 

I prided myself on contributing as much as I did for Stevidot over this past year. Quantity doesn’t = automatic quality, but I’ve got 20+ years of writing experience in, so even someone with a shit self-esteem like myself can’t just say I’m an objectively bad writer, because I’m not. 

But apparently it doesn’t matter that I put in over half a million worlds in the name of Stevidot to a good chunk of the very tiny Stevidot fanbase; according to them, my contributions are irrelevant.

Is it my fault?

One thing I will admit is a detriment to my particular brand of Stevidot is that, save for one story (which happens to be by far my most successful Stevidot story in terms of recognition numbers), the rest of my series follows a continuous narrative that greatly deviates from canon as of Change Your Mind. I’m also notoriously a very verbose kind of writer - I have the tl;dr curse something fierce. 

So all stories I’ve written since my main 3-act series (which ended up being nearly 200k in length on its own) have been direct sequels to that. Because of the heavy deviation from CYM, the environment of the following stories is very different and easy to get lost in if you skipped GA entirely. 

Because there are so many dangling threads and new opportunities to be had after GA ended, I basically committed myself to my AU.

It’s not like anyone else is going to explore these possibilities.

Beyond that, honestly, I just don’t want to rewire my brain back to the canon status quo - not after the shitloads of character development I’ve not only given Steven and Peridot, but nearly everyone at this point has had a moment or two of really intense character growth. 

I like having Peridot co-star with Steven. I like having her become a more competent and active teammate than she’s portrayed in canon (while still giving her comic relief moments). I like that I didn’t redeem the Diamonds and instead had them killed off to force our protagonists to deal with the fallout of the collapse of a mighty empire on a much grander scale than what’s going on in the actual show.

In a way, this AU of mine has helped me cope with the shortcomings of the show itself. I already went on a stupid tirade once about how the sadistic nature of my writing has basically made me no-sell whatever trauma Rebecca Sugar’s throwing on Steven and upsetting everyone else. I’m still fairly certain I’m still outdoing her in that department. 

And because 100% of my passion for creating Stevidot is through this narrative I weaved, I have no desire to leave it. 

So I’ll admit my stories aren’t exactly the most accessible to the average reader who hasn’t been following my work since Day 1. 

Then again... I first got into Sinderella’s series completely ass-backwards at first. I eventually read it in the proper order, and like many of the great Stevidot epics, it’s canon divergent from a much earlier point in the series, so it was very easy to get confused about why certain things happened differently at first... but ultimately, I wasn’t that bothered by it because I just wanted some good Stevidot. I’d figure out the finer details later. 

I really do owe this author more props than I’ve actually given - she’s one out of two readers I know for a fact have been following my series since the beginning without missing a beat. I’ll probably review her newest story sooner or later now that it’s complete. 

Not gonna lie, though... when I saw our numbers side-by-side like this:

Considering they’re very similar stories (Stevidot smuts that were originally meant to be one-shots), mine is over a month old and hers is only a few days old and there’s already that big of a gap in our numbers? 

It’s hard not to feel like a failure; like I did something horribly wrong to suck this bad by comparison. 

I really should stress that I bear no ill will against Sinderella or any Stevidot author; this isn’t a competition, so this isn’t a matter of popularity. I knew coming into this that I wouldn’t get popular overnight; especially not with such an unpopular ship being the focus of my story. 

But when other Stevidot stories get frequent reviewers that I’ve never seen once acknowledge my stories even passively, I can’t help but feel like I’ve massively fucked up somewhere. That despite all my efforts, I might as well be invisible. When they say “Oh, good thing your story is here! It’s been such a Stevidot drought around here until you came along!” to other authors after I’ve written half a million fucking words in under a year for this ship...

You know, is it unreasonable to feel that I utterly fucking failed in several ways? 

I guess it’s no wonder why I’m struggling to keep writing. I still want to - like I said, I’m at a part I’ve been eager to write for a while now - but ever since I started it, I’ve just hated almost all of what I have so far (almost 8k words). And I’m really having trouble trying to salvage it.

I’m honestly not the type who’d scrap all my progress and start from scratch once I’ve gotten this far in. But maybe I’ll have to make an exception this time, because I think I finally made the mistake of trying to write while being mentally and emotionally distraught.

I thought I’d calm down once I wrote all this out, but honestly, I’m not really feeling it. Now I’m wondering if I should have just reached out to someone instead of making this, because now I’ll come off as a whiner with my pansy-ass first-world problems. 

But then again, I’d be an asshole to subject anyone to my idiotic woes. 

Maybe this’ll pass. I’m hoping it’ll pass. I really, really really really don’t want to lose my drive to write again. I was used to it coming and going in short and random spurts for almost all my life - then it finally came to me and stayed with me just a little under a year ago, and I’ve been desperate not to let it go because I’ve been more productive now than I’ve ever been in my 20+ tenure as a writer. 

I don’t want this to go away. There’s still so much more I want to tell. 

But then my logic goes... if you tell the story and no one’s there to hear it, is it ever really told?

[hopevalley]

I just want to thank you for keeping this public. I have promoted you on Twitter and will continue to do so. I want to help in any way I can.

I debated all morning on how to reply to this. I know this is reference to Melinda making her blog private for Tumblr users only, and I think it’s important for me to express my opinion on that situation.

But first: thank you for the Twitter promotion! I have a Twitter account, but I admit I rarely use it (because I find it confusing to use lol). It’s @july_skies !

Regarding Melinda’s decision to privatize her blog: I support it. She works hard on her content and deserves to feel that people who like it will be capable of supporting it in a direct way (reblogs specifically). Nothing sucks more than making stuff and seeing that nobody’s looking at it or enjoying it, and whether or not that’s what it seems like to (general) you, that’s how it comes across when people don’t reblog her stuff. It’s depressing. It’s like she’s throwing her hard work right into the void.

While I’m on the subject, I’d like to talk about content creation a little more, to help give you guys a better idea of fandom and your place as a consumer of fanworks; I know a lot of you might be new to the concept, and you can’t know if nobody thinks to tell you.

For my “credentials,” let’s just say I’ve been a content creator for more than half my life and there’s something we lifers call fandom participation or fandom engagement. They are more or less the same thing, and the terminology boils down to us answering this question: “How is the fandom at large engaging with our content?”

In the last handful of years, participation is down across the board. When I first got into writing fanfiction I’d get at least 40 comments on anything I wrote. Many of my works ended up with 60+ comments on them! 

Now I’m lucky if anyone comments at all, especially in this fandom. Again, it’s a problem everywhere, but I still get comments on fanfic I posted five years ago in other fandoms; meanwhile, this one remains relatively silent. 

I post on AO3 for two big reasons. 1) ACCESSIBILITY. AO3′s site layout is easy to read! It’s easy to format! It’s friendly to people with issues seeing small print! And then we have 2) I do it to give people the option of commenting anonymously (in case they’re shy or nervous).

Having an account there isn’t required at all. People just choose not to engage with me when I post fanfiction.

It feels bad to spend hours of your time on something only to see 0 notes/comments/likes/reblogs/whatever on it later. Four ‘likes’ doesn’t feel that good either. Did people actually like it? Are they pity-likes? Do they even care? People mindlessly ‘like’ a lot of things; maybe they did that with your content, too. I’m not saying I don’t enjoy seeing ‘likes’ but a ‘like’ is more or less an acknowledgement that they’ve seen the content, not that they enjoyed it or want more of it.

Also, likes/kudos don’t draw in more readers: comments do. When a reader’s scrolling down the front page of their favorite AO3 fandom, they click on the ‘fics that look like they might be ‘good’ and even though it’s not always TRUE that the ‘best’ stories have the most comments, a lot of readers filter by the number of comments! 

Comments tell other readers: this is worth checking out!

Let’s look at a quick example of one of my ‘fics:

This is from my AO3 account, a random WCtH fanfic. It’s not a long one, but it’s not short either. It’s a reasonable read in terms of time spent to read it, and as you can see 185 people clicked on it, 14 people ‘liked’ it (kudos are “likes”), and I have two comments: one of those comments is @trash-god and the other is me replying to her comment.

Her comment isn’t ‘less than’ because she’s a close friend, but she and I spoke at length about this story on Discord and her comment was just a nice little ‘addition’ to that conversation. Sure, the story’s about characters not many people care about, but look at that: 185 hits on the story. 14 likes. And only one person who read it took five seconds to leave a comment? Really? What about the 13 other people who ‘liked’ it?

What this says to me as a creator is that the ONLY person who is going to comment is the one person who might feel obligated to, and if that’s the case, why don’t I just save my stories to show her privately? Why bother posting them out into the void to hear nothing but silence from everyone else?

This is the direction that @whencallstheheart is coming from. What’s the point of spending hours creating these things when nobody interacts with you? Posting to silence feels bad. And look, to put it into perspective, editing gifs to post, writing fanfic, doing write-ups, maintenance of a blog, site, or social media presence: it’s super time-consuming. 

Melinda and I both work full-time jobs as it is. My job hit full busy season and I’m even getting overtime now. I’m in training to take over the department next year and I’m tired at the end of the day. When I get home I have eight cats, a house to take care of, and a spouse, not to mention my in-laws live right next door and need help sometimes. We also have a property we just planted 1500 trees on by hand that we have to monitor, and my husband owns a house we rent to someone that needs work done on it, too. Sometimes, life is busy.

And don’t get me wrong! I enjoy creating, just like I’m sure Melinda does. I feel awful if I can’t “create.”

But if my choices are:

work for five hours on a fanfic or episode write-up only to get 4 likes on it, OR

play a video game or watch a movie or read a book or sit on the deck watchin’ the sun go down while I work on a crocheting project…

The latter definitely appeals to me more knowing I have to get up in the morning to go back to work again. My time is worth something. Neither Melinda nor I are getting paid to create this content. We put it together for free, in what spare time we have, in the midst of our own chaotic lives. My website costs me a chunk of money every year to keep up and running ad-free, and I could get all 1500 trees weeded in the amount of time it takes me to put together an episode write-up or decent fanfic.

All content creators ask for in exchange for their free labor is a sense of community, and that can be anything from:

comments on fanfics you enjoyed, even if they are just to say, “I read this and enjoyed it.” 

messages that say, “I really like how [this edit you did] turned out.”

reblogs on Tumblr, retweets on Twitter, emails to website owners

you can even create your own blog and use it to begin conversations with those creators!

You guys have been pretty good about engaging with the show itself through us, but don’t forget to engage with the content you enjoy seeing that comes about because of the show. 

Fandom content keeps the show alive even when it’s not currently airing, and supporting content creators keeps them creating. Everyone wins, then!

To talk specifically about written content...

Readers are the ones who ensure more material is created. Hands down.

And again: I love writing!! I DO. I’ve been writing seriously for more years of my life than I haven’t been writing seriously! But it’s disheartening to post a fanfic and get my one obligation comment.

Now, it’s fine if you don’t read fanfiction or even enjoy it. It’s also fine if the things I’ve posted aren’t to your specific tastes. Trust me, I get it; nobody is obligated to comment on my fanfiction, and I don’t want anyone to feel that they should be.

But please know this: if you do enjoy something, whether it’s fanfic or edits or something else, you NEED to engage with it, or it WILL disappear. People don’t like talking to walls. It’s frustrating and it isn’t a good use of their time.

(This is one of the reasons I haven’t bothered doing a novelization of the series. It could be fun, but for 0 comments it’s not worth spending the time on.)

Again, you guys have been great when it comes to engaging with the show material, particularly while the show is airing. It’s been fun speculating with you and hearing all of your different thoughts. I know sometimes Tumblr doesn’t make it easy to communicate, either, and you’ve all done a great job of getting around that.

But in between seasons things get slow on this blog and it’s hard for me (or anyone running a blog) to feel motivated to provide content of any sort if you’re not going to take the time to engage in it.

I’ll never mark this blog as private, but if I get to the point where I can’t get any engagement from the fans, I’ll shut it down. The point of having a “fandom blog” is to interact with other fans.

I enjoy providing content to you guys, but if participation drops off to nothing, I’ll be taking that as my signal that the audience is gone and my time would be better spent elsewhere. 

So if you’re here and you’re enjoying things, don’t forget to take a little time out of your day to let your content creators know! Not just me and Melinda, of course, but your favorite people on Instagram, Twitter, and other sites as well. ♥ You might be surprised how happy they’ll be to receive interaction from other fans.

And another plug for fanfiction, because 1) they always get the short end of things considering how hard it is to amass the creative energy necessary to tell a good story, and 2) I noticed it’s the #2 page on my website getting visited: if you’ve enjoyed anything you’ve read for When Calls the Heart, tell the author! Here’s the section for WCtH on AO3! Is English not your native language/you’re not confident in your ability to write English? No worries! I’ve gotten many thoughtful comments in other languages and from people who spoke limited English, and trust me: I treasured every one. If you’re just not sure how to comment on fanfic, send me a message and I’ll give you some tips!

I don’t intend this as a slight against my anonymous friend up there AT ALL; I think it can be hard to be in fandom, especially if you’re newer to the scene. There’s a lot of history that’s long gone by now and missing out on it means it’s harder to step into fandom without also accidentally stepping on toes.

Sometimes we take for granted that we have an almost unlimited supply of fanfiction, gifs, memes, blogs, and so on at our disposal. But none of that comes from thin air and it never did. It’s the cumulative hard work of millions of people throwing their hearts and souls into something they’re passionate about in an effort to engage with other fans.

I hope this helped put things into perspective a bit!! Sending love at all of you that stuck around this far; I know it was quite a bit of a ramble LOL!

[wanna-one-imagine]

PSA: on hating Wanna One

If you hate, dislike, or harbor any negative feeling whatsoever regarding Wanna One, I strongly encourage you to read this post. 

The way we learn is not through affirming our mentalities and ideas, but instead by questioning and listening to other opinions. 

As someone who is strongly multi-fandom, I’m going to keep this as unbiased as possible here. The group doesn’t have much time left, so I’d say give this a go. It won’t take long to read.

(@ wannables: please rt so we can spread the word! this is honestly the best time to be a multifandom wannable because we have so many interactions rn!! and if you’re a wannable that hates other groups, you better read this too)

Lately we’ve been seeing a lot of interactions between Wanna One and other (especially male) idol groups. 

So, a lot of us Wannables have become increasingly multi-fandom (more than we were already: nobody begins their run with kpop with a survival show) - but, alas, we have found that a LOT of people from international k-pop fandoms, for some unknown reason, hate Wanna One with a burning passion. 

For the relatively small international fandom, the amount of international hate towards Wanna One is overwhelming and hard to deal with.

So, without further ado, let me clear up some of the misconceptions you may have about the group!

Wanna One is friends with or looks up to the GROUPS YOU STAN.

tl;dr they friendly. Wannables know this, so a lot of us are multifandom - after all, not many people got into kpop BECAUSE of Produce 101. A lot of us have been around for a while and stan other groups.

Kang Daniel: Friends with Woozi (SEVENTEEN), Suga (BTS), Zico, Xiumin (EXO), Chanyeol (EXO), Mark (NCT) and many more - let’s be real Kang Daniel can be friends with whoever he wants, role model is Kai (EXO), TWICE Fanboy

Ha Sungwoon: Friends for years with Jimin (BTS), Taemin (SHINee), Kai (EXO) and also many more

Park Jihoon: Is literally in love with V (BTS), has said multiple times he looks up to V and pursued K-Pop because of him, in a gaming group with Jin (BTS), Eunkwang (BtoB), Youngjae (B.A.P), Ken (VIXX) - seen eating out together

Lee Daehwi: BFFs with Somi (Produce 101, JYP Sixteen - the show that formed Twice), remixed Got7 Hard Carry for produce 101 audition, Heize fangirls over him, friends with Bang Chan (Stray Kids), TWICE Fanboy

Ong Seongwoo: Friends with Mark (NCT), Kwangjin (N.Flying), Mina (gugudan), Namjoo (APink), role model is Kai (EXO), worked with Heize

Hwang Minhyun: caught fanboying over Red Velvet on insta, got acknowledged by NELL

Lai Guanlin: friends with Sehun (EXO), is in love with Wooseok (Pentagon), fanboyed over him in front of HyunA herself

Bae Jinyoung: EXO Fanboy, Sehun Fanboy

Park Woojin: Zico Fanboy, knows Zico irl now

Yoon Jisung: probably has friends but he won’t tell us, acknowledged by NELL

Kim Jaehwan: Embarrassed himself in front of Zico

Why do international fans hate Wanna One?

tl;dr Essentially, Wanna One is really popular in Korea - and not internationally - so the international fans hate them, pretty much because they’re successful. Large biased, sh*t reporting media sites like Allkpop and Netizenbuzz recognize this, and spew out bad articles on them with wrong translations and incorrect info because it gets them attention

Produce 101 season 2, the group that formed Wanna One, was hugely popular in Korea, not so much internationally. A large part of this may be because international fans couldn’t vote in the show

After produce 101 finished airing, it was obvious Wanna One would be popular in Korea. However, a lot of international fans didn’t know about this

So, when Wanna One debuted, their popularity was obviously very high. They began playing with the best, with groups that had been around for years

This resulted in the Wanna One members being called ungrateful, achieving fame “too fast”, even though it’s just a different means of getting there. 

All of these boys weren’t just lucky. They worked extremely hard in their own way to get to this point, and they are aware that the group isn’t permanent. They know that it’s not going to all be smooth sailing from here - they’ve written songs on the impermanence of this feeling (see: hourglass, forever+1, always, I promise you, hell they have an album called “nothing without you”)

Sungwoon, Minhyun - both in “unsuccessful” groups for years before (Hotshot, Nu’est), had to strip off their “idol” image and perform as “trainees”

Daniel, Jisung - trainees for years under an unknown entertainment label (MMO) that likely wouldn’t have debuted them but instead used them for backup dancers (Daniel was actually going to leave to live in Canada - pd101 was his last resort, Jisung would have had to go to the military)

Jihoon, Jinyoung - have you ever heard of maroo or c9 entertainment? Likely would have debuted into a no name group

Daehwi, Woojin - Daehwi has already gotten so much hate from the start of the show even though he’s already 16, yet remained positive. Woojin rose from the 70s rank up until 6 through hard work alone.

Guanlin - moved from Taiwan by himself at 16 without knowing Korean to pursue his dream, is always showing thanks to fans, trying to speak in both English and Taiwanese as well

Jaehwan - won an entire TV show but nobody paid attention to him. Busked on the streets.

Seongwoo - nobody can deny that he is always thinks of the fans. writes his own freaking poetry for us

All of them always express their thanks to the fans, and even the man of the year, Kang Daniel, is commonly reported by outside sources (producers, tv show directors, other idols, etc) as simple - friendly and humble. Even though he’s always tired and in the public’s eye, he is one of the most active members on fancafe, even tries to respond to foreign fans in English

Haven’t they been involved with a lot of controversies?

tl;dr They’ve all been refuted. This is an unusual situation that happens when a group is popular, and the international fandom isn’t big enough to fight it. 

Sites like Allkpop and Netizenbuzz just add fuel to the fire, releasing articles on untrue information, and then not releasing articles quickly or at all on clarifications

Also YMC/Swing sucks and doesn’t protect the boys (literally and figuratively) or the fandom. Instead of explaining situations or taking legal actions, they will either use the boys as a shield for their own mistakes, or force the boys to apologize for things they didn’t do.

Wannables in their natural habitat are fighting YMC (and now Swing entertainment) for something or the other. Right now the big deal is that Swing has banned fansites from taking pictures and Wannables are irate af lemme tell u

They’re not talented.

untrue

produce 101 was a show that if a mistake was made (all live btw), mnet would repeat the same clip 11 times with different angles and reactions

and wanna one is who we are left with. so make what you want of that

(lots of live performances to go around also)

I just don’t like their music.

Not a reason to hate a group.

Their music is pretty much generic K-pop. If you like K-pop, chances are you’ll like their music

Also, for their recent comeback they’ve worked with really incredible artists (Zico, Heize, NELL, Dynamic Duo). Try one of those

If you like kHipHop/kR&B

Kangaroo (prod. Zico)

Hourglass (prod. Heize)

11 (prod. Dynamic Duo)

If you like ballads/sad sh*t

Forever+1 (prod. NELL)

Always

I Promise You (confession version)

Beautiful

I wanna have (this is the GOAT)

If you like k-pop

Energetic (prod. Hui of Pentagon)

Light

Boomerang (okay we don’t really talk about this one tho)

Wannables are a toxic fandom.

This is something that gets thrown around a LOT. But in reality, most wannables are very multi-fandom. I will repeat it for a third time: nobody starts liking K-Pop because of a survival show, especially internationally. A lot of us are fans of other groups, so it sucks when our other home fandoms reject us.

The international Wannable community is extremely small (case in point: the company reducing the concert venue sizes by thousands in the US due to tickets not selling). This means our influence is also very small. It’s very unlikely that you have experienced such toxicity from a true Wannable.

On the topic of akgaes: look we don’t like them either, but even though the show was based on voting for your fave, most Wannables aren’t hating on the groupmates and literal friends of their biases. You could help us get rid of this image by promoting ot11!

KWannables are commonly seen supporting other groups, because they are very well aware of the fact that Wanna One is friends with/looks up to/likes other kpop groups.

They don’t want the group to disband. Of course, there’s a part of every Wannable that dreads that day. But, most of us understand that there’s more waiting for them, and we’ll continue to support in the future!

There’s more to say. But life and Wanna One’s run are both too short to spend hating a group of sweet, talented boys. There’s so much toxicity in K-pop. Imagine how your bias would feel if they knew you were attacking their friends or people that look up to them. 

Let’s spread positivity, not all this hate.

[david-was-here]

I don’t think I’m a furry anymore

So recently on Twitter (FOLLOW ME) I have been seeing tweets about Midwest Furfest, and while all that cool I guess I've come to a realizaiton that I haven't really said this before. Mostly that's because I haven't really shared much on my art profiles, but I don't really consider myself a furry anymore. Although even then I wouldn't really say I was ever really one technically.

Back in like 2012 I decided to get a DeviantArt account because as someone that is aspiring to be a professional cartoonist it would be a good thing to have. And despite me not having a huge audience it is. However while I was there I was liking a lot of furry art and following furry artists. I didn't think much of it because I was just liking the art and not because of some ulterior motive but I just liked the submission. It wasn't until a year later I decided yeah I guess I was a furry, although that was mostly because I started drawing a lot of anthro characters. But anyways, I decided to start identifying myself as a furry even though I didn't have a sona nor was I like super vocal about that part of my life because I'm rather introspective and quiet in real life and also I didn't care that much about being a furry because it's a weird interest and that's it.

It wasn't until I got into college and started getting more antiquated with myself, in particular my sexuality, that I have decided to really make that leap. In April of 2015, I uploaded what would be my sona, James. I wanted to make him because 1, I love anthro croc and gators and how they look when designed like that, 2, I identify with a lot with crocs and gators, and 3, I decided that I needed someway to vent my sexual frustration, or at least create a character that was going through the same problems that I was going through when I realized that I was queer. I came out as bi to my family a month later before my freshmen year ended, then I started to identify more as gay than bi, then back to bi, so yeah right now I'm identifying as queer because while I do consider myself gay and had a male partner before, I'm still not sure how I feel about females in THAT way yet. But anyways, if there is a huge thing that the furry fandom/community has had in my life, it was self-discovery and realizing who I was because of how openly queer a lot of people within the fandom/community are.

After coming out during that summer I decided to find a partner. I figured that since I was a fur I tried to find a partner in the fandom/community. I signed up to a few furry dating sites, and the results were...not very satisfactory. For one, dating sites are not free. No matter what they say, you have to pay in order to get the right access to really the ideal features...like reading the damn notes! There were some friends I found, but they ended up being taken even though their profile said they were single, and as of right now I ended up losing touch with them. There were some success with finding potential mates, that only lasted less then a month. Although a lot of it was me not being comfortable with myself being open about my sexuality yet...as well as seeing other potential mates at the same time (all of these were online not in real life). There were two that lasted longer than a month. One was when I decided to go for a master/pet relationship (yes I actually did that) where I started to feel like I was actually falling in love with him, only to realize that I never knew his name AND he was getting in a serious relationship with someone else. I was worried about him so I contacted one of his friends that he listed was his friend on his profile, only to find out he was getting serious with someone behind my back. I broke it off with him and didn't have any bad blood with him...only to have this friend that I contact share a screencap of my ex saying that I was some stalker and that if I stopped stalking him this friend would report me to the police. I blocked both of their accounts and ended up getting super angry for the rest of the day because of that. I'm not making that up by the way this did actually happen!

The second was the only partner I met in real life. He lived two hours away from me and when we met after my sophomore year ended, I realized that he was seriously the first person I ever had feelings for. I wouldn't say I was in love with him, but it was growing. However things fell apart and we ended up breaking up. This was the first person I had ever had a serious relationship with, and it hurt. I stopped using those furry dating sites afterwords and to this day I never reopened those deactivated accounts. I still tried to find partners online after that but that ended relatively recently with more broken hearts and the realization that I don't really want to change who I am to fit into the LGBT community, or be stereotypically gay and openly queer.

But we are getting off track. When I started my sophomore year of college, I found out about a fur group that was in my town. I thought it was cool and I decided to see if I can see if there was any meet-ups. I have only been to two and I hardly know any of the members within the group. There is one that I keep touch on briefly, and that's really about it. Even then I could never really connect because a lot of their interests are video games and anime and I don't really know much about those two topics, and it also didn't help that they were extroverted and, like I said before, I am introverted, so even during the meets I was at I never talked with anyone. And the group hardly gets together anyways for a big meet besides just individual meetups.

Through out like five years of being a furry I've come to realize that I'm not really one, nor do I want to identify as one. And while having some bad experiences and realizing that I'm not the atypical furry is one factor, as well as just wanting to follow artists I like on here, but it's how serious a lot of members within the fandom/community take it. Even when I was still identifying myself as one, I knew that I wasn't going to take it super seriously what-so-ever and got that not everyone will "get" it. To most furs, they take it like a badge of honor. Like seriously, it's largely a bunch of grown adults who dress up in animal costumes and act cute and like art that is considered cute or super erotic, it's very weird! And if you embrace it, that's totally fine. But it's so hard defending the fandom/community with how rampantly open furs are with how erotic and kinky a lot of the art and members are, as well as people treating it more as a lifestyle than a weird hobby/interest. And don't tell that it's a small minority because honestly  it is a lot more common than you might think. I mean when you have people make coming out videos about being a fur...like no. You aren't born as a furry. It gotten a lot worse over time when the internet became overtly political, especially after the 2016 election, and furs that I follow started making posts against Donald Trump and Nazis and the alt-right, which I mean I'm not saying you can't or that's wrong or anything, but get some perspective and self awareness that your Twitter posts are half furry shit and half political shit. It's jarring and honestly kind of cringy too! And it get worse with the NSFW fur accounts who post inflation and vore art!

I know that what I said is probably more reactionary than rational and something anti-furs say (which by the way people who legit call themselves anti-furs are sad), but honestly that is how I feel. I'm just tired of seeing all the same things over and over again that I'm just kind of done with this all. I'm not trying to hate on anyone or the fandom/community as a whole, there are positive aspects of the fandom/community that I don't begrudge. But this post is less about trashing on furries and more me explaining why I don't call myself a fur anymore. I will still post art on furry social media sites because it still is a platform to share work. I just don't consider myself a member of the community anymore. And that's all I have to say about that.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

In Person Livestream

In Person Livestream Fandom: AoT/SnK Pairing: YumiKuri Summary: Modern AU in which Ymir is a member of a Games Grumps-esque channel invited to a con as a guest. She has little knowledge about the other guests but still ends up taking interest in one after a chance meeting. AN: Part of my Spooky Snippets story dump. For more details please see this post.

She still isn’t sure how Connie and Sasha coaxed her in to this. A part of her wants to say that it’s most likely because she needed a weekend out of town. After all, they’re about two hundred miles out and they aren’t having to spending a dime for it! That’s mostly thanks to Jean and Marco, though, but that’s another aspect of it.

Internet fame was never something that Ymir was ever actively seeking – given she had better things to do with her time – but it had fallen in to her lap by complete accident. Marco and Jean had started a shared account together on some video site where they basically just played video games, got angry and talked about their days; or, more correctly, Jean would flip his shit while Marco proceeded to instigate more freak-outs from him, document it all and then post the shit-show for all to enjoy. Originally it was just the two of them playing, but as their popularity grew, fans started asking about the frequent friends mentioned in their stories; specifically, Connie, Sasha and Ymir herself being the most common culprits. As such, they created an additional segment where they would have a combination of any of the five of them – usually no more than three but there had been a handful of times where four of them were available – would get together to play video games and just play off of one another.

Ymir still wasn’t one hundred percent sure on where her popularity came from, especially when compared to her friends. Sasha was ditzy and easily excitable, making her more prone to bouts of innocent and genuine confusion when she made mistakes on the games. She was also kinda gullible, making her easy to troll with false information, and the comedy with that simply wrote itself. Connie was smart but he also tended to be a bit of an arrogant dick. He was typically the guilty one when it came to trolling Sasha and he would laugh all the while. Jean was similar to Connie, what with being a know-it-all and a braggart, but he had the added perk of a short fuse. It took a lot to get Connie genuinely angry – the worst he’d gotten being some serious frustration – but Jean would lost his damn his mind once he got started. It was mostly the authenticity of his rage paired with the completely stupid shit he’d spew in his fits. Marco, meanwhile, was likeable because of how he presented himself. He was naturally charismatic but he played it up for the show – being even more of a saint than usual – but underneath it all he was actually a total sadist. He played well with Jean because he knew just the littlest, most innocuous ways to take Jean’s rage from a fireplace to a wildfire spanning an entire nature conservation. Ymir, however, was just the one that typically stayed lax and just made shitty, 13 year old level sex jokes.

Regardless of her being relatively baffled by the situation, she figured it was nice to have people enjoy her immature snark.

It was this reason that she was here, out of her element, at some anime convention with Sasha and Connie. The invitation had been extended to their whole crew but Marco and Jean were already going to be out of town for their three-year anniversary. All-expenses paid in exchange for them attending the convention, doing some autograph sessions, and doing a couple Q&A sessions with their friends? Now that was a perk Ymir could get behind.

Or, rather, that was what she’d thought until she saw some guy who looked like he should be in a retirement home walk in to the hotel in a school girl uniform.

“So,” She trails, leaning against the side of Connie’s car as he pops the trunk, “what exactly have I signed up for here?”

He looks at her with a quirked eyebrow before following her gaze and snorting. “Oh, don’t worry; that’s another one of the guests, actually,” He says before reaching in and pulling one of the bags out and setting it down.

Her scowls deepens at that. “Uh, what?”

“He’s another one of the guests. I can’t remember his name right now but he does cross play videos,” He says with a casual shrug.

Sasha suddenly appears around the corner of the car with a bright grin. “That’s Sty-Dis! He’s super cool!” Sasha gushes excitedly, before hearing her name. She turns around and squeals before darting off toward a woman with black hair in a red scarf, waving and cheering.

“Right… And how many other guests like him are going to be here?” Ymir asks Connie suspiciously, grabbing the handle of her suitcase.

“Just him. They try to have a variety of guests from the big, popular types of videos. There’s Sty-Dis, Ask Ackerman, Leonhardt Roars, Titanic Sound Waves, and some other cool people too. Sasha and me have gotten to know a lot of them personally so it’s always a blast getting to hand out with them,” He comments with a grin, turning to watch Sasha and the other girl as he closes the trunk.

Ymir hums before turning and pointing to the hotel. “Well, anyway, I’m gonna head in and get my key for the room if you don’t need me out here,”

“Sure thing. We should be up in a bit!” He calls after her before taking he and Sasha’s luggage and heading to join her.

Ymir heads inside and nearly runs back out at the small cluster of people gathered around. They all have badges on them labeled “Volunteer” and “Guest” respectively – more of them being “Volunteers”, she notes – and they all seem so friendly with one another. She feels a bit uneasy as she approaches the front desk, explaining her situation to the clerk. The girl smiles at her warmly and hands her a key card in a little slip, the room number on the front, then informs her to head directly through the crowd to get her Guest pass.

Her trek through the crowd is mercifully brief, but she swears she’s going to need some therapy after this; the old guy’s skirt rides up as she passes to reveal lacy pink panties.

There are two volunteers settled at the desk, with another of the guests standing and chatting with them. The female volunteer is the one that spots Ymir and waves her over. “Hi-ya! How are you doing?” She asks happily.

“Hi. And fine, thanks,” Ymir answers, looking back over her shoulder when she hears someone shouting about losing a game or something. Almost everyone else in the crowd howls in agony at the response and she’s left completely baffled.

The volunteer giggles at her bemusement. “Pretty energetic, huh?”

“That’s certainly one word for it. Haven’t had to deal with this much energy and potent body odor since my 8th grade promotion,” She quips dryly. The other guest suddenly gasps, causing Ymir to look over at her sideways. “What? Not like that one?”

“You’re Ymir, aren’t you?” She asks.

“How do you know that?” She realizes the minute the question leaves her mouth that it is probably a dumb one. While Ymir herself isn’t big on watching other people’s videos – Hell, she doesn’t even really watch the videos she participates in – she knows for a fact from her friends that a lot of them watch each other. It wouldn’t be too surprising for someone to recognize her from the videos; or, she realizes, it would make sense if it wasn’t for the fact she’s never shown her face in any of the videos.

The girl giggles – a cute giggle that seems to fit a tiny blonde thing like her – and rubs at the back of her head shyly. “Ah, sorry. That’s the perfect pitch talking for me!”

“Perfect pitch? Is that, like, your stage handle or something?” Ymir asks, completely lost.

“Oh, no,” Blondie answers with another giggle, “perfect pitch is a musical term. It means that my ears are naturally turned so that I can pick up on when a note is being played in the exact right octave or not. It also means I can pick up on people’s voices pretty well too.”

“Oh, that’s kinda cool,”

“Hm. It has its uses,” She agrees. The volunteer offers Ymir her own guest badge – decked out with a nifty little picture of two robots fighting – and Ymir let’s Blondie lead her away from the booth. “I’m admittedly surprised to see you here. Jean makes it sound like you don’t really have any interest in this sort of stuff.”

“Oh, I don’t really. I do the show because they asked me to and I’m here because it sounded like a good excuse to get out of town for the weekend,” Ymir says with a shrug, letting Blondie lead her around. She should head up and get her luggage put away at least, but then again she’s kind of enjoying talking to the bubbly blonde.

Blondie being cute just happens to be a nice perk of it all.

“Well, you certainly picked a good time to attend a convention; this is one of the bigger cons, so there’s going to be plenty of con-goers to meet and greet,” She beams.

“So long as they don’t invade my space too much, I should be fine,” She says with a small shrug. She sees the elevators up ahead and realizes that Blondie seemed to have had the same thought that she did. “What exactly goes on at one of these, anyway? I mean, I know Sasha mentioned we’d be doing a Q and A session and an autograph session, but what else is there to these things?”

“Well, there are plenty of other panels that go on, too,” Blondie says, hitting the up button as they reach the elevator. She lets Ymir slip in with her luggage first before joining her inside. “A lot of the other guests are doing panels too, but other than them, there are other fun panels too. There’s cosplay gatherings for photo shoots with other people wearing cosplays from the same series as you, dance training where you learn to do some of the little dances from different anime, and the AMV contest is always pretty cool to see. There’s also hentai screenings, bad fan-fiction readings, jeopardy-style games where they pick other con-guests as the contestants, and there’s always the vendor hall to peruse if you just want to buy some cool stuff. The Artist Alley is great too; lots of really talented artists with great quality prints and additional little things!”

Ymir hums in response, hitting the button for the fifteenth floor. Blondie reaches over and hits the sixteen, shrugging and saying, “I need to go make sure my roommates are done getting settled. We have the opening dinner to attend and I don’t want us to be late.”

“Oh, I didn’t know about that. Do we have to make small talk about things no one really cares about?” Ymir asks with a small scowl.

Blondie giggles a bit. “No, it’s mostly just going over the rules and regulations, as well as finalizing the schedule for the panels with everyone. Typically pretty short, sweet, to the point, and done over some pretty good food,” She hums. They fall in to casual chatter for the remained of the brief ride up to Ymir’s floor, the brunette howling in laughter as Blondie retell some funny stories from a past convention that involved Jean, a chicken and cheese quesadilla and a con guest dressed up as Naruto Uzamaki. As Ymir gets off, Blondie waves and comments that she’ll keep an eye out for Ymir at the dinner that evening.

Ymir waves back, watching the door close before it dawns on her that she never asked the other her name. Sure, it wasn’t like she was never going to see her again, but she still would have liked to know her name and her account. Maybe do a little researching, see if pursuing this girl would be worth it or not. Her phone buzzes in her pocket suddenly, a text from Connie lighting up her phone.  A slow smile turns up on her lips. She had almost forgotten she was travelling with two of her dedicated cohorts, whom seemed to know a lot of the other guests here.

She texts him back, already looking forward to asking them if they recognize Blondie and, if they do, picking their brains.

[metaformers]

Megatron and Abuse

I’ve spent months emotionally gearing myself up to make this Megatron meta post. It will contain mentions of real life abuse--verbal, emotional, physical, sexual--from my own life, as well as links to sites that discuss said topics. There will be a focus on emotional and narcissistic abuse, as that is the kind I have the most experience with--and the kind I most see Megatron perpetuating in More than Meets the Eye.

I understand that many people identify with Megatron. It may be best for you to skip this post if you count yourself among them. I want to be clear that this is my reading of the character, and I do not fault others for reading him differently; I’m not going to go after anyone for liking him or shipping him with people. It’s fiction. Do what makes you feel safe and happy. I can guarantee you are not the first to block me for saying I believe Megatron is abusive.

If you are interested in reading about why I, personally, view Megatron in this light, I would like to make one final request. This subject matter is extremely personal. I have spent four and a half years in therapy, but this still affects me powerfully. If you find yourself getting the urge to argue with me, please keep in mind that I will not be responding to comments for my own health.

So why am I posting? Because I have seen no discussion of this in fandom. When Megatron’s abusive behavior is described, it is invariably treated as a thing of the past, not the present. And I think that multiple views of a character in fandom lead to richer interpretations in fanworks and other meta.

And, with that, we’re off to the races.

(Note: This post is over 18k words long and contains over 70 images. If you would prefer to read this as a Google Doc, use this link. I recommend going to the View dropdown and un-toggling Print Layout if you do so. If you would rather read this as a Tumblr post, please use the read more below. The Google Doc may be better if you would like to use a functional outline navigation system or if Tumblr’s habit of stretching images bothers you.) 

***

First things first: abuse is cyclical. An abuser is not always going to be abusing someone--if they did, no one would ever tolerate the mistreatment. When times were relatively good, my mother and I would crack jokes. My ex would hold my hand and tell me cheesy pickup lines. This is known as the ‘honeymoon’ or ‘idealization’ stage of the abuse cycle, and it is as much a fixture of abuse as the tension-building and abuse phases.

If an abusive relationship never left the abuse stage, no one would ever tolerate it. No one would stay. So violence must be rationed, and after each new outburst, the abuser is likely to promise that--this time for sure--it will never happen again. They then ‘prove’ it with a honeymoon period and the cycle turns anew.

As a result, there is no way to point at one instance of kindness and say that someone isn’t actually abusive. It is likewise not generally possible to point to one instance of cruelty and call it abuse. Abuse is almost never a one-time thing. As a result, I’ve gathered examples from throughout season two of MTMTE and from the latest issue of Lost Light.

Since it’s the most clear and unambiguous example of Megatron’s abuse, I’m going to be singling out one particular relationship--the one between Megatron and Rodimus.

RODIMUS

To help me structure the problems I have with Megatron’s treatment of Rodimus in the time since the Lost Light left Cybertron, I’m going to borrow text from Psych Central’s “Eight Mental Abuse Tactics Narcissists Use on Spouses” article as well as tactics mentioned in their “Signs of Emotional Abuse” article and my own experiences.

Degradation

This is perhaps the most obvious type of abuse Megatron commits. He constantly belittles and demeans Rodimus. On the surface, it may at times seem justified. A minor comment on a fair annoyance.

Here he calls the Rodpod a vanity project, for instance. Getaway does much the same. But we know--and he likely has been told--that this wasn’t a vanity project. This was a gift from the crew to Rodimus.

It’s easy to forget. There’s no clear origin for the Rodpod before it was rebuilt, and, frankly? It’s not important. Whether it was a gift or something he had built, this is a privately owned ship, and this is a possession that clearly means something to Rodimus.

I grew up in the 90s, and I had a lot of tacky plushies and furbies and beanie babies--all extremely easy to mock, especially as I got older and they remained sentimental. Even when I wasn’t a kid anymore, I wanted to hold onto these things, and I think that’s understandable. If I’d lost my neon purple stuffed frog and had gotten a replacement as a gift, it would have been an easy avenue of casual attack. As it was, I mostly got, ‘Are you seriously keeping this ratty old thing?’ about anything that reminded me of happier times. It was always a coded jab at me, a deliberate forgetting of where a gift had come from or why I might want to remember.

This hits me especially hard since everything Megatron says here? Is an uncharitable lie. But believable lies have a way of spreading and turning into a commonly held ‘truth’--and Getaway later cites the Rodpod as a reason that Rodimus deserved to lose everything.

Which, ultimately, is the goal of abuse--start small and build until you can justify anything because of their ‘bad behavior.’

But, of course, this particular comment is targeted at a different audience, intended to undermine Rodimus’ standing with the crew and change the story to something that makes it seem as though Rodimus is squandering quest resources on trivial items.

Much of the time, the audience for Megatron’s comments is Rodimus himself--wearing at his already thin self-esteem and feeding the self-hatred we’ve seen him manifest throughout the series. (If you doubt either of those assertions, I plan to write meta about Rodimus later on. For now, I ask that you remember that he self-harmed by carving the results of the vote into his palm--explicitly so he would always know how many people didn’t want him there.)

Actually, for further confirmation, let’s take it to canon:

While he ‘admits’ to thinking he’s better than everyone else after having a very direct cry for help shot down with an insult, I hesitate to say this indicates in any capacity that his self-esteem is fine.

You see, I’ve been accused of the same. Literally--to the point where this exchange with Ratchet made me sick the first time I read it. How else is Rodimus supposed to respond to this kind of jab, especially when he’s in the middle of handling a crisis?

To me, the willingness to accept as ‘true’ something that directly contradicts his own experiences, especially coupled with the reassurance-seeking behaviors and low self-esteem, makes him especially vulnerable to emotional and verbal abuse.

And so, let’s turn our focus to Rodimus himself and answer the questions posed by the article to see how well Megatron’s behavior holds up.

Do they tell you that your opinion or feelings are “wrong?”

Without any warning of what to expect, Rodimus was presented with his own corpse--which has half its brain sliced out. They specifically didn’t tell him why they were calling him in, which I can’t imagine helped soften the horror. He’s in a very reasonable state of shock.

And there’s Megatron calling his reaction tiresome, even though his eventual reaction when faced with the spectre of his own death is to scream and punch Perceptor. Rodimus is just quietly attempting to come to grips with an upsetting situation, not hurting anyone by taking a moment to process.

But, of course, he isn’t allowed to process. Megatron is the captain of this ship, and he expects everyone else to handle their feelings quickly and efficiently, even if he never does.

This is a hallmark of narcissistic abuse--considering one’s own feelings bigger, more important, more valid than those of others. And it’s fully in line with the dynamic, too, to attempt to invalidate said feelings by emphasizing one’s role as an authority over the victim.

“Don’t you think, as your mother, it’s fair to expect a little consideration?” might have been fair if the consideration hadn’t involved her demanding things I’d already done for her--which she promptly pretended I hadn’t done, or that I’d done them improperly, or that I hadn’t adequately managed my emotions while doing them.

It’s patronizing enough from a parent. From someone who shares the same rank as you? It’s condescending in the extreme--not to mention entitled.

Do they belittle your accomplishments, your aspirations, your plans or even who you are?

But, of course, Megatron doesn’t respect Rodimus’ rank. Rodimus owns this ship--Drift purchased it as a neutral vessel and I would be genuinely shocked if he didn’t insist on signing it over to Rodimus after convincing Rodimus to let him take the fall. This ship? This is his ship. Optimus had no right to set Megatron up as captain; he didn’t even have the right to forcibly install him on the crew roster.

In fact, if you’ll pardon the brief aside, Rodimus had very fair misgivings about allowing Megatron onto the Lost Light.

Rodimus points out that Megatron is dangerous--this is undeniably true, no matter what your stance is on his character. And Ratchet responds by lying to Rodimus to convince him to let a powerful criminal aboard. Which is, ironically, the same thing that kicked off season one--only this time it’s Megatron instead of Overlord.

Personally, I think that this shows Rodimus has learned his lesson and is trying to avoid a repeat of that particular disaster.

He also offers a great insight into why Optimus is cooking up this outrageous plan:

And, although this is just conjecture, I think that this is part of why Megatron targets Rodimus. He can be insightful--especially when it comes to people and their motivations. This makes him a threat to Megatron’s otherwise nearly unchecked power as captain of this ship. However, he is also susceptible to manipulation, as we saw with Prowl.

Megatron is extremely intelligent and very good at manipulating others; he plays a long game, as Ravage walked us through at the end of DotL. And with the idea that Rodimus tried to bar him from his ‘rightful place’ at the helm of this ship, with the idea that Rodimus was the one chosen by the crew to be captain, I would like to return to the panel at hand...

Here we hear Megatron say--exasperated, belittling--“How many times?” As if this argument should be concluded by now, and Rodimus is being childish to keep forcing the issue.

I’ve heard this exact line in this exact tone too many times from multiple abusers. How many times would I dare to defy them? I wasn’t trying to be defiant; as Rodimus just did, I reminded them of an inconvenient (for them) fact, one they wanted to convince me wasn’t true. I doubt I could list every iteration of this I’ve seen in real life.

This is not something you say to an equal when discussing something that is objective fact. Rodimus is the co-captain, much as Megatron wishes to deny it.

And he continues to deny it. It’s not a real rank. It’s a made-up rank. He is the one true captain, and Rodimus is a recalcitrant second-in-command in denial. Megatron doesn’t have the best track record with those--which Rodimus would be fully aware of. I refuse to believe that the Autobots never saw footage of Starscream’s treatment at Megatron’s hands.

So I think that it makes sense that, rather than push farther when Megatron has already raised his voice, Rodimus redirects. This was a tactic I, too, used to avoid moving from the tension-building phase to the abuse phase in my own relationships.

Do they regularly ridicule, dismiss, disregard your opinions, thoughts, suggestions, and feelings?

This is a pretty obvious example of ridiculing someone’s feelings--and it’s another dig following right on the heels of the last two. Although all three are relatively small, the fact that they come one after another, basically coloring every statement Megatron makes, feels uncomfortably familiar to me.

Even if these are justifiable complaints--which I don’t believe they are, but I recognize they may be open to interpretation--the steady build-up is worrying.

My mother did much the same thing. One mild example was that she would tell me to go wash my face--I had acne, so this could have been reasonable advice. However, it slowly escalated until every time she saw my face, she would suck her breath in between her teeth and cringe. “Go wash your face!” If I complied immediately, there was no reward beyond, “See, isn’t that better?” (Which it wasn’t--the repeated scrubbing made my acne substantially worse.) And even then, within an hour, she would repeat the comment.

And if I didn’t comply? She would keep cringing and insisting until she brought acne pads over to physically drop on top of me before walking off with a smug smile. This despite the fact I was bathing twice a day and scrubbing with one to four of those pads a day. (No wonder my acne got worse, right?)

So when I see these types of minor but incessant insults--nothing big enough that any onlookers would feel comfortable defending Rodimus, nothing serious enough to justify lashing out--it rings alarm bells in my mind.

Furthermore, Rodimus turns away, but Megatron looms right behind him. I find the body language of this interesting--even when Rodimus approached previously, he left roughly an arm’s length between them--enough to not really be getting into Megatron’s bubble despite his frustration. It may be an angle thing, but it seems as though Megatron is closing that distance, subtly physically intimidating Rodimus. He’s closer still in the next panel:

Much less than the almost-arm’s length that Rodimus gave him--and he’s much larger than Rodimus, not to mention more powerful, which means that his physical presence alone can be a weapon. Healing Abuse Working for Change, an abuse prevention group founded in the 70s, specifies “looming over you, getting ‘in your face’ or blocking a doorway” as a variety of physical abuse (source).

Rodimus may have approached Megatron, but he respected Megatron’s space. Megatron did not return the favor--particularly when escalating his ridicule and getting increasingly aggressive in terms of tone and expression.

I’ll discuss other aspects of this panel in a later section--for now I want to focus on the intimidation and the way he insists that it is impossible for Rodimus to do something as adult as ‘take stock’--he is capable of it, but clearly Rodimus is not.

Why? He doesn’t need to state it explicitly; his previous comments are explanation enough. Rodimus is childish for not tailoring his emotional reaction to a traumatic scene to suit Megatron’s needs--and for not conceding the argument to Megatron and arguing about facts.

And when Rodimus turns back to look back at his own corpse?

When you complain do they say that “it was just a joke” and that you are too sensitive?

Rodimus’ head is bowed, and he looks resigned to me. Another red flag, since that was usually how I reacted to that particular brand of abuse, particularly when my ex or mother got into my personal bubble. If I didn’t shut down and comply, I ran the risk of inciting something worse.

Especially coupled with yet another dig at his emotional maturity and sensitivity, this conclusion to their altercation leaves me queasy.

If you have never been in a relationship where this is the norm, it can be hard to fathom exactly how taxing it is. You think that, if it were bad enough, you would notice. You would leave. But none of these comments are quite unreasonable enough to prompt a full-blown fight; none of them are hills worth dying on, particularly for someone who already has (hidden) self-esteem issues.

I’ve heard a metaphor for situations like these. If you place a frog in a boiling pot, they’ll jump out immediately. But if you place them in cool water and gradually turn up the heat, they get used to it. Eventually, they boil--because they were trained to tolerate minor abuses along the way.

Over time, in an environment where nonstop digs are normalized, they become background radiation. Rodimus turns away, unable to fight back against any single point aside from the few attempts at fact-checking and explanation he already made. It’s not worth fighting. It’s not worth pushing. If he pushed harder, maybe--but Megatron knows what he’s doing. He knows how far to push.

He wrote the script, after all: attack, withdraw, isolate.

Of course, if this scene were the only such example in the series, I would put it down to Megatron waking up on the wrong side of the bed and Rodimus not wanting to deal with the grumpiness. It’s the context of the entire series that informs the cycle.

Do they give disapproving, dismissive, contemptuous, or condescending looks, comments, and behavior?

Because this panel--containing a very similar dig--takes place a full year later. Instead of encouraging Rodimus or bantering back at him, he dismisses him.

‘But doodling is a sign of inattention and Rodimus should focus!’ you might say. And you would be wrong. As Time reported, doodling helps people focus. So, while teachers and other authority figures demean it, it’s largely because of the lack of respect they (falsely) believe it implies.

Furthermore, even though no one was aware of it, Rodimus was doodling the lost map to Cyberutopia. It’s possible that he was compulsively driven to carve it--and I do mean compulsive in the true sense of the word.

(An aside: I have obsessive-compulsive disorder and, when unmedicated, perform up to six hours of compulsions a day, so I think I’m qualified to make that call.)

He had merged with the matrix--it reformatted him, in fact. It seems reasonable that having the map lodged in his processor would itch like having a word on the tip of his tongue. His doodling in this case would have been more like filling a genuine physical need.

If you have never experienced a genuine compulsion, I can’t explain the visceral need of it. Fighting it down is much like holding your breath--if you hold out too long, it becomes intolerable. You feel like you will die. Like you are actively dying.

Of course, this is conjecture--it’s entirely possible that his doodling serves only the usual purpose: increased focus. And you know what’s a helluva lot more disrespectful than doing what you need to do to focus? Disguising verbal abuse as jokes.

Do they tease you, use sarcasm as a way to put you down or degrade you?

This example is super upsetting to me. On the surface, yeah, haha, Megatron made a joke, good one, Megs.

But...Rodimus was literally turned inside out. He was left in a dark hallway, alone and in pain, unable to move, unable to speak, for an indeterminate amount of time. Someone violated his mind to remove knowledge so basic it’s fundamental to them as a species.

To make sure not to understate things, let’s ask the psychiatrist who has the most experience with the procedure:

The most painful thing a Cybertronian can ever experience. A mental violation followed by incredible pain.

And that painful-looking mess of organs there in the brig?

That’s Rodimus. Who apparently rushed ahead to shut off the lights and protect the mechs in the brig--mechs who were trapped in place and likely targets for a criminal who likes to feast on ‘sin,’ wouldn’t you say?

Meanwhile Megatron and the others are far enough behind that Sunder has come and gone--turning Rodimus inside out, but not prisoners like Getaway, who were left safely in the dark. The timing, to me, makes it look like Rodimus barely got there in the nick of time.

Which, of course, only gets a disparaging comment from Megatron, who won’t even get off his moral high horse to fight back against Sunder and protect his crew.

Rodimus may or may not be able to hear this condescending comment, but when he comes back to work, fresh out of the medbay? Megatron kicks off by making fun of the experience. Rodimus counters humorlessly--clearly not digging this particular joke--and Megatron follows up with, oh, by the way, the only mech you probably count as a friend these days? Helped me come up with this terrible joke at your expense.

Making fun of your own trauma can be cathartic. Making light of someone else’s trauma, particularly when they’re literally leaving their hospital bed for the first time after the fact? No--that’s cruelty. That’s another example of convincing Rodimus that he’s too sensitive. Can’t he take a joke?

And he does take it--with only a minor dodge. Hence the barbed follow-up.

I would say that this is just an example of a tasteless and poorly thought out joke, but Megatron knows people. We see him manipulate the DJD masterfully--and those are mechs who know him, mechs who know the ins and outs of manipulation and abuse. So I’m inclined to believe that this is deliberate rather than a misstep, especially in light of his follow-up...

He cuts off Rodimus’ attempt to move away from the unpleasant subject by literally talking over him (note the overlap of the speech bubbles) in order to make a ‘joke’ about Rodimus resigning. Which--as we saw in the first scene, as we see in many scenes--is a continual point of contention between them.

Megatron is taking advantage of a moment of probable vulnerability by priming him with a ‘joke’ followed by a comment meant to make him feel alone, and then another ‘joke’ meant to indicate the desired behavior.

This is a pattern I’m familiar with, as you might expect by this point. In the case of my ex, he would use this pattern--making light of something traumatic that had happened to me, following up with a non-apology that referenced the fact that no one wanted to put up with my issues, and then bringing it home with an unsubtle joke about things he wanted to do to me to ‘make me feel better,’ no matter how I tried to indicate my own discomfort.

And I, personally, don’t think that this is any less bad here, even though that was really awful and--after enough rounds of it--inevitably succeeded in getting me to give him what he wanted to make it stop. Because, even if Rodimus seems to be in good spirits, trauma can present itself in different ways. And an experience like that, especially given the complete lack of emotional support he experienced before, during, and after? Yeah, no, I’m not prepared to believe that he's actually unbothered instead of coping by acting tough, not when he tries twice to dodge the ‘joke’.

And I’m also not prepared to believe that Megatron can't see right through that act, especially in light of the fact that he also makes a habit of making fun of Rodimus in front of everyone he can.

Do they make fun of you or put you down in front of others?

Megatron continually puts Rodimus down in front of the crew.

In case the screenshot ends up too small to read, he says, “I hope this puts paid to the notion that I ignore everything my ‘co-captain’ says on the grounds that he’s lazy, petulant, and pathologically ill-suited to command…”

From the air-quotes around ‘co-captain’ to the specific insults he uses, every word of this is supposed to cast himself as the responsible, capable captain and Rodimus as the immature usurper. He maintains a formal voice for his own actions--he’s being magnanimous by agreeing to Rodimus’ rendezvous plan on the planet below. Why, if he doesn’t, Rodimus will probably be petulant and whine about it, so really, any inconvenience is on Rodimus’ unstable emotional state.

Which seems over the top, but look at what he said. He starts by heavily implying that Rodimus shouldn’t be respected as a leader, then follows this assertion with three ‘reasons’ for this.

Lazy - Rodimus goes out of his way--literally--in season one to go on side-quests that help people. He’s always personally willing to go to the frontlines of any conflict he’s willing to risk his crew in. And when the co-captains are each presented with the opportunity to risk their lives for the sake of saving others (Rodimus in #21 and Megatron in #33), they have two very different reactions.

We are shown no panels of Rodimus balking; he immediately allows Perceptor to wire him to the anti-killswitch. When told it might kill him and will certainly destroy the matrix, he says, “There goes our map.” And after spending what might be his last moments telling Minimus the truth about Overlord, he says, “Self-sacrifice, Magnus--it’s cheap. It’s a cheap way out. I need to live so I can make amends and--” before the anti-killswitch cuts him off.

We go on an entire hunt while Megatron avoids coming clean about being able to mass-shift; it’s how we find out Brainstorm is a Decepticon. It takes five pages. And although Megatron agrees in the end, his quote on the matter is, “Oh, I could’ve said something earlier, but here’s a survival tip: when everyone’s lining up to make sacrifices...always get to the back of the queue.”

Which maybe doesn’t qualify as laziness--but it still paints a very different picture than Megatron is doing here.

Another point of fact is that even though Megatron has said in this arc that Rodimus has spent the time since launch hiding, Ravage points out later in the arc that he’s observed the same behavior in Megatron. More on that later--under Double Standards and Projection--but worth noting here to undermine the ‘honesty’ in the lazy point.

Petulant - This particular insult is set up to make Rodimus look emotional and childish. This is a pretty common tactic in abuse--it makes it hard to believe anything the person in question says. After all, they’re a child, do they really know what they’re talking about? Surely they just misremembered. Surely it’s safe to ignore their petulant demands unless you feel like indulging them.

Which is exactly what Megatron is implying he’s doing here. Indulging the whimsy of a child instead of working with the mech who shares his rank.

This particular brand of trivializing is a favorite when setting up for gaslighting, which I’ll talk about later. After all, if you can convince someone they’re immature--that they’re too inexperienced or emotional or downright crazy to trust their own perceptions--then they need to turn to someone with the authority to tell them what the truth is.

And if you can also convince those around the victim that this is true--as the villain does in Gaslight (1944), which gives us the technique’s name--by slandering the victim and undermining their authority, you have others who can ask, ‘Are you sure you didn’t imagine that?’ even when you aren’t around to enforce the reality you want.

The air-quotes around ‘co-captain’ are small, and words like ‘petulant’ are minor--but as Psychology Today’s article on Gaslighting points out, it always starts out slow. These words are weapons--and words have always been Megatron’s weapon of choice.

Pathologically Ill-Suited to Command - The final nail in this sentence’s coffin is this one. As I mentioned above, prepping for gaslighting is easier when you can convince your victim and their would-be support network that the victim is crazy--and here we see Megatron pull out that argument. Pathologically ill-suited to command.

It’s not poor baby Roddy’s fault, you see--his brain isn’t wired for command. He doesn’t have the intelligence of the True Captain. He doesn’t have the stability. He might like to pretend, but these are delusions.

As someone with several mental illnesses (primarily anxiety disorders, including obsessive-compulsive disorder, but also depression), I heard this one a lot. A lot. I tried for years to take crazy as a point of pride; sometimes I still want to. But it’s been used as a weapon against me for years. “Are you insane?” prefaced a lot of furious dismissals of innocent requests I made when I was young, but it sometimes still happens when I try again to interact with my family. I also had panic attacks that got called ‘tantrums’ to trivialize them.

Rodimus likely has PTSD--he’s a veteran with a traumatic childhood, after all--and I’ve seen headcanons that he has ADHD. We also know for a fact that he self-harms--and so do all the people Megatron is addressing, since the cuts were visible all the way until the morning of the day this issue began. (It was even commented on when they were looking at Rodimus’ corpse.)

Casually pathologizing someone who visibly self-harms is an easy way of isolating them. Making it an indication that Rodimus is unfit for command? Easier still. It’s also a ready-made dismissal whenever someone doesn’t like your argument. I could offer examples, but this blurb has gone on long enough as it is--and I think every mentally ill person I know could likewise offer examples of it.

This is far from the only time Megatron publicly insults Rodimus in ways that undermine his credibility as a leader. In fact, he does it often enough to have become an in-joke among the crew between Dark Cybertron and the first arc of season 2:

This is the first arc in season 2. The first arc. And yet they’re already saying that Megatron always says this.

Which...isn’t really fair. Rodimus isn’t an engineer. If you review the scene in issue one, he gives the order to jump, and no one tells him that the engines aren’t ready until after they’ve malfunctioned, and even then they can’t tell him why. He immediately has them set down and refuses to take off until they’ve figured out exactly what went wrong--which seems responsible to me.

But, of course, anything that goes wrong can become Rodimus’ fault, even if he wasn’t the one responsible.

Megatron also deliberately insults Rodimus in front of Ultra Magnus, the mech who was, once Drift left, probably the closest thing to a friend Rodimus had on the ship:

Note the way he frames it: “a crisis in morale precipitated by his own woeful captaincy.”

We know people actually liked the Rodimus Stars, even though they were ridiculous. Maybe because they were ridiculous. We saw that in the Trailcutter Spotlight, where the entire story revolved around characters like Trailcutter and Swerve trying to get Rodimus Stars.

Yes, it’s silly. He doesn’t have a great system for passing them out. But that’s not what Megatron focuses on--instead he once again targets Rodimus’ supposed ineptitude.

Am I boring you to tears yet? It’s five hundred insults that all make the same point, one after another, to everyone he can get to listen, for over a year.

Until eventually…

Even the mechs that once supported him are instead convinced that Megatron is correct. Rodimus is incompetent, incapable of leadership--Minimus is comfortable joining Megatron in mocking Rodimus after he took a long weekend off to do something he enjoys.

Something I find interesting about this is that they accuse him of disappearing when there’s work to be done, but he has no idea whatsoever what the work they’re doing is.

In fact, he doesn’t know anything about the situation at all. He’s been gone three days, and they clearly hadn’t started decorating before he left. He even makes the reasonable suggestion of maybe just maybe avoiding the death zone, even if he goes with Megatron’s reasoning in the end.

This implies to me that he didn’t know there was work to be done. Either it came up after he left, or he wasn’t properly informed before he left.

As for the ‘not returning their calls’ bit--I suspect that meteor storms might interfere with comms. I’m fairly sure that’s a repeated subplot in most sci-fi I’ve seen, and the Lost Light’s comms aren’t especially robust at the best of times, let alone whatever handheld or internal unit Rodimus might’ve had.

Leaving things in the hands of Megatron and Minimus for three days--just a long weekend--isn’t irresponsible. Everyone deserves to be allowed to have hobbies. Everyone deserves to have a long weekend now and again, no matter their job. But Megatron has turned this--along with a laundry list of things he himself does--into a way to justify isolating Rodimus.

Isolation

How isolated is Rodimus? Since season two started, there have been no scenes of Rodimus spending downtime with anyone--until Drift returns, the one friend who hasn’t been exposed to months of Megatron’s unending degradation and insults.

It’s possible I missed a scene in my reread, but even though every other member of the group who ends up on the Necroplanet in Dying of the Light has at least a panel of casual or friendly interaction with others, the closest I found for Rodimus was the scene when he was fresh out of the medbay and Megatron made fun of him. Not promising, to say the least.

From all the available evidence, I’d say that Rodimus is an extrovert. He seems more energized in front of crowds, he was so charismatic he was partly responsible for short-circuiting the personality ticks, and he does things like naming his favorite crowd the Rod Squad. He likes people, clearly--and he’s shown repeatedly to care about protecting his crew, as well as total strangers.

He also habitually seeks external validation because of his low self-esteem. Without this kind of support, he resorts to self-harm (see the numbers he carved into his palm) and other unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Again--planning to do a Rodimus meta at some point. For now, let’s roll with the idea that he’s a social mech who craves being around others and needs external validation to function, which I don’t think is particularly difficult to believe.

The lack of interpersonal interaction in season two--alongside the belittling comments he faces when he does interact with others--indicate that he’s isolated. He’s a charismatic mech; that’s part of how he helped to kill off the personality ticks. And yet by the time they leave for the Necroplanet, he’s receiving no external validation, no interpersonal support, nothing. He’s alone.

He may not be the best at friendship--but neither are Whirl, Cyclonus, or Swerve, all of whom end up with strong friendships and support networks. Considering the previous section and Megatron’s clear attempts to isolate Rodimus, one can only surmise that he was ultimately successful in cutting him off even from Minimus.

So what does Megatron accomplish by shutting out all sources of external validation, anyone who might rebuild Rodimus after Megatron verbally tears him down?

In my experience, he’s setting himself up to have power over Rodimus. Remember--Rodimus is so full of self-doubt even before the beginning of the series that he reaches out to Ratchet, only to get shot down there. (“Beneath my cocksure exterior I have terribly low self-esteem.”) No longer able to lean heavily on Drift for emotional support and cut off from any positive reinforcement, he’s put in an extremely vulnerable place.

I, too, am an extrovert. Sometimes I’m fairly sure that it makes me intolerable to be around, especially since I do the same reassurance-seeking behavior as Rodimus. If I go too long without interacting with friends, my depression makes a bitter comeback.

Yes, it would be awfully nice if I could go without social interaction or reassurance or positive external feedback in general, and certainly no one is obligated to provide such things for me. But the fact of the matter remains that without these things, I’m left vulnerable and hungry for any scrap of affection I can find.

And, in my experience? My abusers have deliberately starved me from outside attention to put me in that vulnerable state. It was easiest for my mother, which isn’t surprising; she already had absolute power over where I went and who I saw. What she didn’t have--and what she wanted more than anything--was my undivided attention and affection.

So when I displeased her--and there were quite a lot of ways to upset her--one tactic she used was cutting me off from other sources of support. People who could verify that she’d said one thing on Tuesday morning and something radically different by Wednesday night. People who could help me cope with the nonstop insults, the micromanaging, the unbearable pressure.

Without them? I crumbled. I did anything my mother asked--and I apologized when I did it ‘wrong,’ or if I had ‘misunderstood’ the order she’d changed halfway through my obeying it, or if she’d simply forgotten that I had, in fact, obeyed her already. She was the only one who could arbitrate the Truth; I didn’t have anyone else to turn to.

My siblings and I banded together sometimes to stave this off, but at other times they behaved more like Minimus--going along with Mom to keep the peace, to keep her focused on me instead of them, or just because they actually agreed with her, I can’t quite be sure. In the end, I’m not sure that it matters.

For a specific example--I was required to hug my mother and tell her I loved her before I went to bed every night. One night, I could tell she was sleepy when I hugged her, but she said, “I love you, too,” so I thought I was safe.

No such luck--she woke up at two in the morning convinced that I hadn’t hugged her good night or said I loved her. She burst into my room, sobbing and shouting, and I had to stumble out of bed and try to calm her down.

I’m fairly confident that she didn’t cite that as the direct reason for the ensuing silent treatment and enforced ‘family time’ that meant I couldn’t see friends for a while, but the timing was suspicious.

We see this general pattern a few times with Megatron and Rodimus, as well, the most recent of which was in Lost Light #4. I’ll cover other aspects of that later, but, for now:

Transgression: Rodimus asked about teleporters.

Warning: “Hush.”

Withdrawal: “Not now, Rodimus.”

Isolation: Public humiliation.

And that pattern--do something ‘wrong’ to earn punishment, an initial outburst, pulling back with the silent treatment, and then isolating them from others as a way to build tension for a final blowout? Uh...

That’s a script Megatron wrote a long time ago, and he knows exactly how effective it can be.

Ultimately, what Megatron gets out of setting himself up as the only one to interact one-on-one with Rodimus is a lack of oversight, a lack of outside influence, and--if he presses hard enough, if he twists Rodimus around for long enough, if he sways the opinions of enough of the crew--eventually he might succeed in becoming sole captain of their merry band. With Minimus in his pocket? It’d be a recipe for total control over not just Rodimus, but the entire group.

Rage

“This is an intense, furious anger that comes out of nowhere… It startles and shocks the victim into compliance or silence.” (“Eight Mental Abuse Tactics Narcissists Use on Spouses” by Christine Hammond, MS, LMHC)

This is what most people think of when they picture abuse--the most violent of the symptoms. It’s also the one that Megatron has deliberately been keeping in check, pulling it out only when the long game he’s playing is at risk of being cut short.

I have said before that abuse can only be viewed in a pattern--one instance of shouting doesn’t necessarily make an abusive relationship. In the context of an abusive relationship, however, even one instance of rage is a powerful tool for controlling someone. Even if someone never again takes it ‘that far,’ the victim remembers. And they know that the threat is always going to be present.

When I was fifteen, I did something to upset my mother. To this day, I have no memory of exactly what I did wrong. What I do remember is my mother taking a book and slamming it against my temple so hard that it knocked me to the floor. She then grabbed me by the hair and dragged me up to scream in my face. I remember being held high enough that my knees weren’t on the floor, but my legs were still bent--the only point of contact I had with the world was my toes. I remember being so terrified that I had no idea what she was saying other than the tone, the way spit hit my face. She then stormed out of the house and blamed me for it.

The older of my two younger sisters tried to run away that night, and I nearly jumped off the roof of our house. I remember very clearly that the only reason I didn’t was because I was convinced that I would only break my legs, and she would use it as an excuse to trap me at home with her.

Beyond that, my memories blur. I remember that either that night--or perhaps another night--my littlest sister caught our mother’s attention. I remember making an attempt to distract our mother. Was that why she attacked me? I don’t remember. Did I make her more upset? I don’t remember, although I recall fearing I had. What I do remember is the moment that she grabbed my seven-year-old sister and threw her--physically threw her--out of the way. My sister landed wrong--on her wrist--and broke a bone. I remember her crying. I remember my mother telling her to shut up. I remember that it took a while before Mom took her to the hospital, and then that we were all ordered not to tell anyone how she’d broken the wrist.

Aside from these instances, my mother never laid a hand on any of us.

She never had to. It’s been twelve years--almost thirteen years--and I still feel it every time we interact. I remember that she’s capable of it. I remember that she was willing to shift her rage onto the more easily accessible target despite my best efforts. All the way until I moved out--and beyond then, and into the present--it’s kept me from being willing to confront her about some of the worse things she says and does.

It’s been over a decade and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that fear. For a while, I was so deeply afraid of even sharing the story--after being ordered to be silent about it--that I think I’ve only told a few of my closest friends and my therapist. The only reason I’m sharing it now is because I’m posting this anonymously. Because, at heart, I am still afraid.

Now, I could cover the handful of examples of Megatron hitting characters here. I could make conjectures about how Rodimus cares more about the wellbeing of others than his own, and threats of violence against characters like Trailcutter, Perceptor, and Minimus would be more likely to keep him in line than violence against his own person. I know that was true for me.

But none of those were done directly in front of Rodimus, even though he would have heard about them later. That makes it harder to draw conclusions about without wandering a bit too far off panel. So I’ll be discussing physical violence in those characters’ subsections--and for now, I’ll be looking at the times Megatron has threatened violence directly at Rodimus.

In context, Rodimus respectfully said that he and the others were reporting for duty; he even saluted. Megatron then ordered all of them to carry Ravage back to Ratchet, and Rodimus objected.

What was his objection? Was it, ‘but this is only half of Ravage, and even Ratchet probably needs both halves to repair him’? Was it, ‘but there are a lot of us, and probably we don’t all need to carry Ravage, so maybe some of us could stay and help’? We don’t get to find out, because Megatron doesn’t accept any objection to his orders, no matter how softly or respectfully put.

In this scene, with the DJD nearby, his long game is, as I said, at risk of being cut short. So he breaks out the rage to terrify Rodimus into unquestioning compliance.

What’s more, it worked. They all fled.

Maybe this doesn’t look like violence to some of you. But his expression and the way he towers over Rodimus as he screams? Looks almost identical to my mother’s face in the anecdote I shared above. And to me, that screaming was violence.

In fact, screaming like that was the only kind of violence my abusive ex-boyfriend perpetrated against me. He was physically larger than me; he would get me cornered in a bus seat and loom over me exactly like this while screaming insults. And I know for a fact that some people don’t think this counts, or believe this behavior can be justified--when I reached out to the older of my two younger sisters about how he kept doing this, she told me that I deserved it, and she wasn’t the only one.

As a result, in the context of Megatron’s treatment of Rodimus, and in the context of this being a tool that worked to control him, I would personally count it as an abusive tactic--one that I believe was deliberate. Especially since he never apologized.

And then, almost immediately after Rodimus risks his life to save Megatron…

Rodimus is standing directly behind Ratchet as they try to convince him to pretty please put down the gun, as we can see in the next panel:

And, of course, Megatron pulls the gun on them--all of them. And Rodimus, the one who brought him through the portal, the one who rescued him, is looking down the barrel of a fusion cannon over Ratchet’s shoulder. This group of mechs--the Rod Squad, his favorite people--are all being threatened.

And then Megatron says that it’s time he left, and it’s hard not to think, under the circumstances, that he means he’s done playing at being an Autobot, done being nice. He’s wearing Tarn’s mask as a deceptibrand, for goodness’ sake! For all intents and purposes, at this moment, it looks like Megatron is through with the quest and has no intention of going to trial.

A few days later--or however long it takes them to build the Den and end up on Functionist Cybertron--you can see that Rodimus is still thinking about this:

There are other potential explanations, of course, but--in context? I find it both telling and worrying that Rodimus’ instinctive reaction when Megatron shouts his name is a full-frame flinch. Not with battle prep or defensive stances or anything that would indicate he learned this response from being ordered around in battle. Just the same sort of flinch I still sometimes get when my mother raises her voice.

And, although it’s been a bit since I used this format, let’s answer another question from the checklist:

Do they accuse you of something contrived in their own minds when you know it isn’t true?

This is the last example I’m going to use for rage--and a tirade like this is an example of out-of-nowhere fury used to shock Rodimus into silence.

The thing is? Megatron pulled all of this out of his tin-plated ass.

In this scene, Rodimus did not once mention the Lost Light. He only tries to ask about the teleporters, and then Megatron derails him with this.

Now, I’m going to give JRo the benefit of the doubt, here. Instead of assuming he’s forgotten about Nyon--the core of Rodimus’ backstory--and abandoned Rodimus’ main driving force as a character by having him sacrifice others to get what he wants instead of, y’know, literally being willing to risk his life saving people at every single opportunity he’s ever had… Instead of pinning writing that terrible on JRo, I’m going to assume instead that Megatron cut off and then derailed Rodimus before he could suggest what he actually had in mind. Misunderstandings and assumptions being thwarted both play a role in JRo’s writing, after all.

And, with any thought at all, it actually makes perfect sense that Rodimus might need teleporters for a plan--for saving the people of this Cybertron, not for tracking down the Lost Light. These mechs aren’t safe on Cybertron, even in this supposed ‘sanctuary city’--and there’s no way to transport all of them offworld. There are too many of them--we see veritable thousands in the streets.

So how do you save everyone? Do you start another war to rise up against your oppressors--because the first one went so well--or do you get everyone the hell off the planet?

Sure, maybe Rodimus wants to use the teleporter after the fact. I’d be surprised if he didn’t--he left half the crew he still has on a distant planet with a bunch of potentially dangerous strangers.

As for why Rodimus responds to this accusation the way he does instead of by saying what he actually intended--have you ever been accused of the worst thing? Something that is so antithetical to your character that you feel like the person accusing you of it has never interacted with you? How could you have given this person the idea that you would ever, in a million years ever, consider doing what they’ve just accused you of?

Well, you see, that confusion? That disorientation? The scrambling to find any common ground to argue on and finding that you have no footing because you don’t even know what to expect--what’s real and what you’ve made up? Leaving you floundering to counter a point in a way that at least connects to their reality?

That’s another abuse tactic. And it’s called gaslighting.

Gaslighting

“Narcissistic mental abusers lie about the past, making their victim doubt her memory, perception, and sanity. They claim and give evidence of her past wrong behavior further causing doubt. She might even begin to question what she said a minute ago.” (“11 Signs of Gaslighting in a Relationship” by Stephanie Sarkis Ph.D.)

I have more experience with gaslighting than literally any other form of abuse, to the point that I still struggle to believe that my memory isn’t just faulty, that I’m not just overreacting, that these things really did happen, that I’m not the one making things up. That’s why I extensively cite every point I make: I feel as though no one will trust me or my word, but maybe if I bring in enough data points--enough hard facts--it’ll make up for the fact that I’m the one writing it.

Gaslighting seems so minor, and it is so hard to point to examples when you’re living in it. Even the extensive trauma I described above doesn’t hold a candle to the scars left by decades of gaslighting. I cannot overstate how deeply emotionally scarring it is, the way it can change the entire way you see the world, the way it makes trusting yourself and others almost impossible at times.

This is a hard section for me to write. Perhaps the hardest, in fact, and I say that despite the fact that writing the last section gave me flashback nightmares so intense I couldn’t sleep for three days. To get through the experience, I’m using the framework offered by the article linked in the above description and referencing other sections of this meta post. Any brevity in this section is a result not of a lack of evidence in canon but of an overabundance of my own trauma.

And with that disclaimer, let’s dig in.

They deny they ever said something, even though you have proof.

“You know they said they would do something; you know you heard it. But they out and out deny it. It makes you start questioning your reality—maybe they never said that thing. And the more they do this, the more you question your reality and start accepting theirs.” (“11 Signs of Gaslighting in a Relationship” by Stephanie Sarkis Ph.D.)

I would personally amend this to say that they deny they ever said or did something, even if you have proof. This can range quite a lot:

“Mom, you said that you’d already picked up the stuff for my school project, but I can’t find it anywhere. Where is it?”

“You never even told me you had a project! This is what happens when you leave everything to the last minute.”

“But I have your text message right here?”

“Let me see that. No, no, that’s not what I meant at all, why would you think that was what I meant? Are you stupid?”

Which was a pretty staple ‘misunderstanding’ in our house, but less frustrating than the times my mother’s reaction to evidence was to say, “I swear to God that I never said that, and if I’m lying, may He strike me down where I stand!” Which was, unfortunately, at least as common--more common, actually, when we were in public. And when God didn’t smite her, she gave us a smug smile and considered herself proven right.

As this escalated--gradually, over the course of my entire childhood--eventually she built to a moment so big and so obvious that I actually realized what she was doing. That it wasn’t forgetfulness. That it wasn’t a case of repeated misunderstandings. That she was reconstructing reality as it suited her, and I was powerless to stop her.

What moment could possibly have been jarring enough to open my eyes to that? I talked in the rage section about the night my mother knocked me to the ground and hauled me up by my hair. What I didn’t tell you is that after she dropped me back to the floor again, I looked up at her and, still sobbing, asked her why she’d hit me in the head with her address book.

“I didn’t,” she said, still towering over me as I lay curled on the floor. “I would never.”

“Then--” Maybe it was her hand, I thought. Maybe I was confused. I felt so disoriented and terrified and I didn’t understand what was happening. “Then why did you pull my hair?”

“I didn’t,” and she looked angry enough to do it all over again. “It must have gotten caught in the zipper.”

The zipper, of course, being on the address book she’d just denied smacking me with.

When I tried to point out this logical flaw, she redirected--and then stormed out of the house, blaming me for the fact that she needed to abandon us. Even though she came home a few hours later, the guilt worked--and I was too afraid to bring up the incident ever again.

And here’s where I’ll be frank--I said that that incident opened my eyes. And it did--but not that night. That night, I was terrified I’d imagined the whole thing. I had no evidence. She’d hit me, but it hadn’t left a mark. She’d pulled me up by the hair to bellow in my face, but I couldn’t even remember what she’d said.

If my siblings hadn’t been there to question her with me--to reaffirm it had actually happened--to be honest? I might to this day believe it was a nightmare. That she’d never actually laid a hand on me. And that’s what long-term, slow-build gaslighting does.

So--a few small denials, a pointed redirection whenever holes get poked at, all of that seems trivial in comparison, I’m sure. But it builds. It has to start small if the abuser hopes to normalize it. Because, at first? You question them. You start hoarding evidence. But if it goes on long enough? You start to question yourself. You start to question any evidence that you, personally, collected. Eventually you’re left questioning yourself so often that you stop questioning them.

Which is why even minor instances of gaslighting--if they’re part of an abusive pattern--should be noted as soon as possible.

In this case, Megatron asserts he’s been saying something when Rodimus has proof that he hasn’t even been around to say it. He says it both to belittle Rodimus and to set up a reality where he’s been dutifully doing his job instead of secretly doing prep work for the ultimate supervillain device in his habsuite (I’m talking, of course, about the antimatter he spends months channeling, almost certainly in violation of his parole).

Before you doubt Rodimus--and I wouldn’t be surprised if you did, because another goal of gaslighting is to make others doubt the perception of the victim--I’ll point out that Ultra Magnus also comments on Megatron hiding himself away.

So Megatron was lying to begin with--he hasn’t been saying that for weeks. He hasn’t been in a position to say anything to Rodimus for weeks. And when called out on it, he neither apologizes for the lie nor even allows time to address the fact that he did so. Instead, he picks something we know to be a sore point--and therefore a good distraction.

Taking stock, not sulking. Because, as Rodimus clearly remembers:

And from the way Rodimus reacts? Especially given my own experiences? I would guess that this wasn’t the only time Megatron said it--just the only time caught on camera, so to speak.

Also, yes--in the next panel, Megatron claims that he’s been working, something that both Ultra Magnus and Rodimus have both confirmed isn’t true. The truth is that he’s channeling antimatter for his own purposes--regardless of whether he eventually uses them to benefit the others, with no one aware he’s setting this up, he has no oversight.

They tell blatant lies.

“You know it's an outright lie. Yet they are telling you this lie with a straight face. Why are they so blatant? Because they're setting up a precedent. Once they tell you a huge lie, you're not sure if anything they say is true. Keeping you unsteady and off-kilter is the goal.” (“11 Signs of Gaslighting in a Relationship” by Stephanie Sarkis Ph.D.)

These lies, in my experience, can range from nearly inconsequential to the extreme. My mother would routinely tell me that I hadn’t said something that my siblings later confirmed I said, but that could be dismissed as forgetfulness or poor hearing. She would also tell me that I’d promised to do something when we’d never discussed the matter in the first place, then tell me that I was the one forgetting. That was a little harder to handle--my siblings didn’t listen to every conversation between me and Mom, so I had no one to back me up. It’s much more difficult to prove you never discussed something than to prove that you did.

But, like I said--minor. Hard to prove or disprove. These tiny lies make it hard to trust reality and harder to trust your memory or judgment. These are also almost impossible to point to when discussing abuse with those who have never experienced it, because they look like misunderstandings at worst. It’s insidious and frustrating and only when you get to a big lie--the kind you build up to over years (or after more than twenty issues)--that you can point to it and say, “See? I have proof. I can prove this time it isn’t true!”

Megatron is claiming--genuinely daring to claim--that he was the one to first suggest stopping to help people along the way. When he’s been complaining about Rodimus’ so-called “side-quests” since day one. In season one alone, we saw them stop on the DJD homeworld so Ratchet could help cure a plague, Temptoria to rescue prisoners being used as batteries, and, eventually, the Big Hero moment when Tailgate uses a semicolon to save them all.

Except something that nobody seems to talk about in season two--as far as I’ve found, at least--is the fact that Rodimus is actually the one who saved all the constructed cold mechs with the help of Perceptor. Tailgate shutting off the suggestion beam and shutting down the Legislators was also critical to the operation’s success, of course, and I’m hardly going to say that Tailgate doesn’t deserve his due credit, but Rodimus was also fully ready to die for a universe of strangers.

I covered this above when talking about how Megatron called him lazy, but let’s pull in the panels for comparison’s sake.

Here we see Rodimus getting hooked up without a single panel of hesitation. As soon as they were ready to wire him in, he went.

He asks if it’ll kill him and has no qualms when he’s given a decided maybe.

And when he does save the CC mechs, you would expect, wouldn’t you, that he would never let anyone else forget it. After all, everyone (especially Megatron) insists he’s a self-centered jerk. But he lets Tailgate take full credit, and the only mention of Rodimus’ role in the proceedings after the fact comes when Optimus gets angry at him for destroying the Matrix.

Meanwhile Megatron drags his feet for five pages as the foam gets progressively worse and more dangerous, hoping they’ll find Brainstorm’s shrink ray so that someone else can go in his place.

But it was Megatron--who stays on the ship, who sends mechs to do battle but spares himself from the dirty work that would strip him of his self-righteous high horse--who first had the idea to help people. Right. One hundred percent his idea, and Rodimus should have told him they were saving organics so he could leave them to die.

It’s a lie. It’s a big enough lie that anyone could point to it and objectively prove that it’s not true. But Megatron says it, and Rodimus placates him instead of fighting him on it. He’s just happy that lives are getting saved; he doesn’t try to take any of the credit.

I find it unpleasantly relatable that Rodimus’ first reaction is no longer to correct Megatron, as he once did--in fact, as he did in the last example where we caught Megatron out in an obvious lie--but instead to offer him something to calm him down. Something to mitigate fallout. Something I, myself, have done countless times.

Their actions do not match their words.

“When dealing with a person or entity that gaslights, look at what they are doing rather than what they are saying. What they are saying means nothing; it is just talk. What they are doing is the issue.” (“11 Signs of Gaslighting in a Relationship” by Stephanie Sarkis Ph.D.)

I want to write a separate meta post about Megatron’s bullshit redemption arc because I don’t want my opinions on that to distract from the primary point I’m trying to make with this meta. However, it also fits this point to an almost ludicrous degree.

Rather than break down Megatron’s entire character arc, I’ll focus on a few relevant points and save the rest for another post.

What Megatron says: “I am on this quest to make amends by finding a new world for our people after destroying our original planet.”

What Megatron does: never apologizes to the people he wronged using his own words, takes control of a privately owned neutral vessel with the help of a mech who holds no democratically appointed position nor has any kind of oversight, deliberately sends them three jumps off course to the necroplanet for the express purpose of derailing the quest.

What Megatron says: “I’ve renounced violence.”

What Megatron does: continues to send others into battles he’s not willing to fight, refuses to act even when it means that his crew will likely suffer casualties, orders acts of violence from behind the protective distance of a screen.

What Megatron says: “It’s not about me! I am taking a vow of pacifism because, if I were to pick up a weapon again, I would be unstoppable.”

What Megatron does: continues to reach for the dark matter that would make him unstoppable (even at the cost of shirking his duties--note that he missed Brainstorm’s trial), continues to risk the lives of others--apparently, by this logic, for their own good.

I could go into greater depth--I hope that someday I will get to tear this particular topic open--but, for now, I’ll leave it at this. What Megatron says can be very pretty, particularly if you ignore the overblown narcissism hidden in the message, but in practice it’s functionally worthless. He does virtually nothing to actually advance the honorable goals he’s espousing--only enough to make himself look good and noble.

This is something my mother and ex excel at. My mother can talk anyone into believing she’s a good and loving person who gives everything she has for us kids, tailoring how she frames her beliefs to most please whoever her audience is. Growing up, I heard a lot about how lucky I was to have such a loving and wonderful mom. My mom has even been able to talk me in circles--‘I only threatened you with a pray-away-the-gay camp because I wanted you to know you had other options! I didn’t want you to be bullied, so I had no choice but to completely isolate you from your DFAB friends any time your sexual orientation came up!’

Only, uh, of course I’m not framing that the way she did. That’s just what all the pretty talk amounted to. I only picked it apart years after moving out of the house.

Actions speak louder than words--because in situations with this brand of abuse, words are just tools to further the abuse, not tools for honest communication. With gaslighting, especially, words are meant to confuse.

They know confusion weakens people.

“Gaslighters know that people like having a sense of stability and normalcy. Their goal is to uproot this and make you constantly question everything. And humans' natural tendency is to look to the person or entity that will help you feel more stable—and that happens to be the gaslighter.” (“11 Signs of Gaslighting in a Relationship” by Stephanie Sarkis Ph.D.)

Gaslighting has profound effects over time. In “Identifying Victims of Narcissistic Abuse” on Psych Central, the provided list offers some idea of the scope of the damage that victims endure.

What I find most interesting about that list in the context of this meta post, though, is that it increasingly describes Rodimus as season two of MTMTE and then Lost Light each progress. From second guessing and increasing difficulty concentrating and making decisions to being highly strung and irritable to fear responses when Megatron says his name, this all actually adds up to a potentially realistic picture of how trauma can affect someone.

It’s not pretty. In fact, it can leave people looking and feeling unstable, which adds further fuel to the gaslighting fire.

I can’t say for sure whether JRo intends Rodimus’ increasingly erratic (and, at times, desperate and out of character) behavior to be read as a response to this prolonged abuse. I hope he does--it makes more sense to me than the alternatives.

Especially since this particular article on gaslighting goes on to cover many of the points I’ve already addressed in this meta, which I think hammers home their severity.

They use what is near and dear to you as ammunition.

“They know how important your kids are to you, and they know how important your identity is to you. So those may be one of the first things they attack. If you have kids, they tell you that you should not have had those children. They will tell you'd be a worthy person if only you didn't have a long list of negative traits. They attack the foundation of your being.” (“11 Signs of Gaslighting in a Relationship” by Stephanie Sarkis Ph.D.)

I could rehash this point--but I’ve already spent several thousand words on it. From mocking the Rod Pod to tearing down Rodimus’ identity as a leader and a hero to rattling off reason after reason why he’s worthless, the entire degradation section could fit under this bullet point.

They wear you down over time.

“This is one of the insidious things about gaslighting—it is done gradually, over time. A lie here, a lie there, a snide comment every so often...and then it starts ramping up. Even the brightest, most self-aware people can be sucked into gaslighting—it is that effective. It's the "frog in the frying pan" analogy: The heat is turned up slowly, so the frog never realizes what's happening to it.” (“11 Signs of Gaslighting in a Relationship” by Stephanie Sarkis Ph.D.)

Once again, a point I covered in previous sections. Abuse builds up bit by bit, allowing the abuser to skate by without being called out. What would have looked like a vicious and unfair tirade at the beginning of the abuse--uncalled for and baseless--eventually looks like a righteous ‘dressing down’ of a petulant child.

They tell you or others that you are crazy.

“This is one of the most effective tools of the gaslighter, because it's dismissive. The gaslighter knows if they question your sanity, people will not believe you when you tell them the gaslighter is abusive or out-of-control. It's a master technique.” (“11 Signs of Gaslighting in a Relationship” by Stephanie Sarkis Ph.D.)

This is the reason I homed in on that particular choice of words by Megatron in the degradation section. It seems like it’s no big deal--all varieties of this abuse seem like they’re no big deal. Until they build and build and suddenly everyone believes--both in the comic and in the fandom--that Rodimus deserves the treatment he receives at Megatron’s hands and should not be trusted with any serious task. Everyone immediately believes the worst of him in every situation.

They try to align people against you.

“Gaslighters are masters at manipulating and finding the people they know will stand by them no matter what��and they use these people against you. They will make comments such as, "This person knows that you're not right," or "This person knows you're useless too." Keep in mind it does not mean that these people actually said these things. A gaslighter is a constant liar. When the gaslighter uses this tactic it makes you feel like you don't know who to trust or turn to—and that leads you right back to the gaslighter. And that's exactly what they want: Isolation gives them more control.” (“11 Signs of Gaslighting in a Relationship” by Stephanie Sarkis Ph.D.)

And here we have the final critical point I covered above--the result of all the dismissive comments, the intention behind the isolation. No one trusts Rodimus’ judgment. No one trusts Rodimus to even have good intentions anymore.

It’s a personal hell for someone as extroverted as Rodimus--and it could all end if he ceded power to Megatron. And wouldn’t that be easier?

They throw in positive reinforcement to confuse you.

“This person or entity that is cutting you down, telling you that you don't have value, is now praising you for something you did. This adds an additional sense of uneasiness. You think, "Well maybe they aren't so bad." Yes, they are. This is a calculated attempt to keep you off-kilter—and again, to question your reality. Also look at what you were praised for; it is probably something that served the gaslighter.” (“11 Signs of Gaslighting in a Relationship” by Stephanie Sarkis Ph.D.)

This seems counterintuitive, doesn’t it? If you’re spending months or years breaking someone down, why would you ever throw in a compliment?

The thing is, this particular brand of abuse--this variety of manipulation--makes the victim especially susceptible to praise as a weapon. When starved of praise, it’s natural to crave it. And in two rereads of season 2? I found exactly one instance of someone praising Rodimus. In issue 43, Rodimus says that Swerve called him the best dancer he’d ever seen. Other than that? Nothing. I reread twice specifically looking for positive comments about Rodimus, and there was absolutely nothing for him.

I was lucky enough to have friends who told me that I was worth something even when I was being abused. And even then, I craved praise from my mother more than anyone--both because she’d conditioned me to look to her above all the others, and because she was the one who was the hardest to please.

Of course, when she did praise me, it was either performative--‘look what a good mother I am’--or it was to get me to do something that I desperately did not want to do. “You’re such a good daughter, (name)--I know you actually do love us. That’s why you’re looking forward to this three month trip (where you’ll have no contact with any of your friends and no means of escape), right?”

And I went. So help me, once she pulled out that card, I honestly believed I had no choice but to go. Every summer, I fell in line.

If I’d been as starved of praise as Rodimus had--if my mother had succeeded in fully isolating me as she so often tried to do--I don’t think I could have pushed back on any subject at all.

At the start of Lost Light, the issue summary indicates it’s been five years since the ship first took off. Assuming half of that was during season two, that’s two and a half years--during which we only have evidence of a single, passing compliment. Especially for someone like Rodimus, that’s downright devastating.

And then Megatron drops this bomb during their most critical argument:

It works.

Rodimus stops pushing. Rodimus stops fighting him. Stops begging him to help them not die by standing with them instead of watching them fight from a screen, directing them in how to die. (Which he doesn’t do, by the way--he makes no contact with the group once they leave until he strides out onto the battlefield.)

This is the antithesis of everything Megatron has said for the last two-ish years. This is everything that Rodimus has wanted to hear.

It’s pure manipulation, of course--Megatron goes back to doubting Rodimus’ leadership and judgment without a single pause. He doesn’t hear Rodimus out on the battlefield or on functionist Cybertron. If this compliment had been genuine? He would have.

But no. It was a means to an end, and it worked. Rodimus did exactly as Megatron wanted. As Megatron knew he would.

The final point the article on gaslighting brings up is one I want to address separately--projection and double standards.

Projection

“They dump their issues onto their victim as if she were the one doing it. For instance, narcissistic mental abusers may accuse their spouse of lying when they have lied. Or they make her feel guilty when he is really guilty. This creates confusion.” (“Eight Mental Abuse Tactics Narcissists Use on Spouses” by Christine Hammond, MS, LMHC)

“They are a drug user or a cheater, yet they are constantly accusing you of that. This is done so often that you start trying to defend yourself, and are distracted from the gaslighter's own behavior.” (“11 Signs of Gaslighting in a Relationship” by Stephanie Sarkis Ph.D.)

Megatron has claimed--first to Optimus and later to everyone who would listen--that he would find success where Rodimus found failure. It was part of his sales pitch to avoid imprisonment until his retrial.

So he said then, when they had no map and their only plan was to track down Thunderclash, who was having visions to guide him toward Cyberutopia. And, once they’d found him, the map he’d carved was destroyed in the fight with the personality ticks, leaving them rudderless once again.

Or so it seemed.

Up until this point, Megatron has disapproved of Rodimus taking supposedly pointless sidequests. However, as soon as Rodimus produces a hand-carved map to Cyberutopia, he changes his tune.

Rodimus has just very reasonably expressed that Cyberutopia is in the opposite direction and given his position as co-captain: they need to stay on task and find the Knights. Here, Megatron overrides him without even acknowledging that, technically speaking, he doesn’t have veto power. Of course he gets the final say even if they share the same rank. Why shouldn’t he? Co-captain is a position made up for Rodimus’ ego; if Megatron decides that it’s time for a literally pointless sidequest, then it’s time to start getting the quantum engine jumping.

He looks so smug as Rodimus arches an optic ridge in the background. No one questions Megatron’s authority to make the executive override here, though, including Ultra Magnus, who would be the one in the best position to point out that the captains share a rank and Megatron can’t just arbitrarily ignore the chain of command. Ultra Magnus is also probably the closest thing Rodimus has to a friend on the ship, and he still doesn’t speak in Rodimus’ support here.

Even though, by the terms of the quest and Megatron’s parole? Rodimus is the one clearly in the right.

Megatron has been accusing Rodimus of shirking responsibility, of laziness, and at one point of not having the steel to face his own death (in the form of his corpse). And yet, when they can finally actually get on the right path--when Rodimus has hand-delivered a map--his first action is specifically to derail the quest.

And for what possible reason?

Because of character flaws he’s been accusing Rodimus of since day one.

Of not facing his death quickly enough.

Of not even being able to start the quest--when, of the two of them, Megatron is the one who sent them deliberately off course as soon as he could.

Of vanishing when work needs to be done.

This is all par for the course with projection. It can look coincidental; it can even on occasion look well-intentioned. But it ultimately comes from a self-centered place where the one doing the projection can have a few possible motives.

Self-Centered Motive 1: Being unable to conceive of motives separate from those they would have.

Self-Centered Motive 2: Being unable to conceive of being wrong about someone’s internal motivations--or, indeed, about any assessment they make.

Self-Centered Motive 3: Deliberately using the projection to cover for one’s own behavior. (This isn’t necessarily indicative of shame or guilt; it can be done to draw attention away from behavior they believe they will face repercussions for when they would like to continue perpetrating said behavior.)

Self-Centered Motive 4: Deliberately using the project to confuse and disorient an abuse victim, putting them on the defensive. (After all, “No, you,” is an argument that could be regurgitated by a ‘petulant’ two-year-old and therefore easy to dismiss, particularly when you habitually tell others that your victim is just childish and overly sensitive.)

The first and second motives are unlikely to be the case for Megatron, who is a master-class strategist used to dealing with schemers. He wouldn’t be able to remain several steps ahead if he was unable to read intentions behind other people’s choices. He also wouldn’t have lasted particularly long as leader of the Decepticons if he couldn’t infer the motivations of others.

Meanwhile, motives three and four would serve him extremely well, particularly in this situation. If he spends sixteen issues convincing the crew that Rodimus is the irresponsible one holding back the quest, if Rodimus tries to counter by saying, “But you’re the one trying to keep us off course!”--well. Can you imagine anyone taking him seriously?

Oh wait. You don’t have to--they had that argument in Lost Light #4.

And, as Megatron knew would happen, even Minimus Ambus believed his lie. No one--no one at all--believed Rodimus or took his side.

Great bit of misdirection, isn’t it? It also has the benefit of leaving Rodimus doubting himself--questioning whether he actually is working hard enough. That’s the gaslighting aspect of the technique; it destabilizes your reality and makes it harder to question what your abuser says about you or asks of you. Because if you and you alone think that something is true? Peer pressure is likelier to silence you.

It won’t always--the Asch conformity experiments are an interesting place to begin for further research, if you’re interested--but in those experiments, even though it was clearly objective reality being described, only one in four participants consistently fought majority opinion. When it’s something more nebulous--personality traits, personal failings--it seems likely to be a little harder to fight.

And when you’re already being conditioned not to fight this particular person (with bouts of rage and the other abuse techniques I’ve described here), it can be hard to convince yourself that it would be worth fighting in the first place.

Mix this with Rodimus’ already present self-worth and guilt issues? And it’s frankly stunning to me that he contradicts Megatron as often as he actually does. I know that I didn’t have it in me that often--it’s almost unspeakably exhausting to have this kind of fight, particularly when you have no one on your side and no hard evidence to point to.

This is still relatively early into the abuse, admittedly--six months after the trial. But Rodimus is still trying to assert his own reality in the face of Megatron projecting.

And he is projecting. Need proof? Ask Ravage an hour or two later in this arc:

He’s been sitting in his room for six months, the same as Rodimus. But to distract others from that fact, he loudly accuses Rodimus of it--publicly, purposefully. “I ‘take stock.’ You sulk. You’re sulking now.”

As the second blurb says, it puts Rodimus in a position where he must defend himself against the accusations, distracting from the fact that Megatron is also doing this.

And it works: Rodimus goes on the defensive, and no one questions the narrative that Megatron is setting up.

This narrative allows Megatron to twist situations (and facts) to suit himself with relative impunity.

Twisting

“When narcissistic spouses are confronted, they will twist it around to blame their victims for their actions. They will not accept responsibility for their behavior and insist that their victim apologize to them.” (“Eight Mental Abuse Tactics Narcissists Use on Spouses” by Christine Hammond, MS, LMHC)

Megatron avoids apologizing like the plague. He apologizes exactly once in the series--and then leaves without trying to get the injured party to the medical bay or calling a medic, which makes it more than a bit hollow. Beyond that? He never apologizes for his actions during the war--for Grindcore, for setting up the DJD, etc--and he also never apologizes for things like decking Perceptor and nearly sending him through a computer screen. He certainly never apologizes for his behavior toward Rodimus.

Instead, he twists the situation so that he’s justified in his awful behavior or so that the blame falls on someone else. He does this, too, when something threatens the narrative he’s been building or Rodimus ‘disobeys’ him. For example, when Rodimus overrides his condescending hush command that Megatron had no place issuing...

Rodimus is offering a potential counter-strategy that Megatron hasn’t approved: evacuation and escape. It’s something they discussed while Megatron met the ‘troops’ instead of coming to the briefing:

A solution Rodimus brought up at the time, using the same language he describes the teleporter with above:

So he’s trying to work out, it seems, whether there’s a possibility of rescuing the mechs already teleported away--and whether there’s a chance they could get all of these civilians to safety.

I discussed this possibility in rage, but I’d like to look at a different panel for the lead-up to that, where Megatron twists the narrative:

See how he turns his controlling and dismissive behavior (“Hush, not now.”) into an attack that invents a sinister motive Rodimus is clearly supposed to apologize for? This being despite the fact that all Rodimus asked about was teleporters--something that would be absolutely vital in evacuating a civilian population off-planet.

It’s a successful twisting of the situation--successful enough that even I bought it on my first read-through. Despite everything, despite all logic and circumstance and evidence, Megatron convinced even me that his narrative was the right one.

But when I read again? It was groundless. Megatron describes Rodimus as being obsessed; if he’s referring to the paint job, then Drift pointed out it lends itself to multiple interpretations--including mourning. Other than that, all Rodimus has done is organize a plan to get them home. Nothing about his behavior reads as obsessive to me.

But let’s stick to these panels and break it down:

Rodimus attempts to participate in the conversation. Considering that he and Rodimus share a rank and the group is currently planning what to do, it’s perfectly appropriate for Rodimus to try to pitch in, especially since he was the one at the briefing while Megatron met the ‘troops’ in another area. He knows more about the situation than Megatron in some ways, and he’s trying to use that information to help.

But Megatron gets visibly angry and tries to shut the attempt down. Based on his behavior through the series as well as my own experiences, I think I can guess why.

Rodimus ‘disobeyed’ him, which undermines the vision Megatron has of himself as the ‘real’ captain. The image he’s been trying to sell the crew. If he can spin this as Rodimus being childish, he can salvage the situation and maintain his narrative. Scolding him like a child sets that up.

It’s technically also possible that he’s somehow forgetting Rodimus’ experiences with Nyon and nonstop heroism despite being present for both, although that seems like an awfully large and uncharitable lapse on his part.

This implies to me that this isn't the first time Megatron has dismissed Rodimus like this--but before Rodimus can call him out further, Megatron twists the narrative, and now it's not about teleporters or exit strategies. It's a personal attack on Rodimus.

This comes, frankly, out of nowhere. It's an unprovoked attack against someone who shares his rank and is trying to contribute to the planning process--you know, trying to do his job.

Here's the thing. I'm familiar with these derailing types of attacks--where anything I do can get twisted and turned into something that requires an apology when I'm (a) trying to help, (b) doing my job, and (c) trying to do it respectfully but also efficiently due to time crunches. And, like Rodimus, I've been baited into shouting back at my abusers.

It's a win-win for them. Sure, they derailed first--they shouted first--but since I fought back, it can't be abuse. Since I got distracted from the point I wanted to make, I proved them right. I'm too sensitive. I deserve to be ‘taken to task’ or ‘put in my place’ or whatever euphemism you care to use. Because I stop looking like a crying victim on the floor, it stops counting as abuse.

If you think I'm exaggerating, I can assure you I'm not. Read any comment thread about abuse or assault and see how long it takes for people to find reasons why this person wasn't really a victim. Why they deserved it.

I should have talked above--under almost every section--about my abusive ex-boyfriend. Really, it's painful how much is relevant. But I haven't, because… Fuck me, this is the sixth complete rewrite of this section, and I'm still tearing up. I haven't, and it's because experience has convinced me that no one will take my side because I wasn't a good enough victim.

I'll keep it simple and relevant--just a single example that I feel parallels the above scene. It happened within a week of when my mom hit me; I was 15. My ex was failing a writing class, and he showed me his homework. I thought he was asking for feedback, since, y'know, he was failing. But I only got as far as saying he'd misused a comma before he told me to shut up.

I say he told me. That sounds so mild. We were sitting near the front of the school bus together; I was trapped between him and the window. He had eight inches and fifty pounds on me, and he used it to loom over me like Megatron continually looms over Rodimus. I say he told me to shut up; he got in my face and screamed it in front of a bus full of our peers.

He then proceeded to scream insults at me until he was red in the face. I wasn't qualified to judge his commas, I was an idiot, on and on. He had a bad habit of yelling at me in 1337-sp34k--yes, out loud--because it made him feel intelligent when I couldn't understand it. To be honest, I think that parallels with Megatron’s consistent condescending use of ‘big words’--the point of communication is to communicate, not to feel smart about our superior vocabulary.

Like Megatron, he would get loud and condescending and demeaning and use speech I couldn't understand to prove that I wasn't as smart as he was. Like Megatron, he would loom over me, using his height and bulk to intimidate me when I started getting ‘uppity’ or otherwise ticked him off. Like Megatron, he mostly did this when we had an audience--it was other types of abuse he perpetrated in private.

And, like Rodimus, sometimes I backed down--but sometimes I shouted back.

Not often. Usually I kept it to a few incredulous statements. But there were times when he said something so shocking, so untrue, I had to defend myself--like Rodimus does in this scene. And--once again, like Rodimus--I got so ‘het up’ that I would lose my point, forget my words, and find it impossible to actually figure out how to fight his points. Partly because they were so groundless it felt like there was no evidence I could pull to counter them.

I told my sister about it, once. And she said that since I yelled back sometimes, I deserved it.

She wasn't the only one to say that, but it hurt the most coming from her. And it hurts again when I read posts about Megatron and Rodimus where people talk about how great it is that Megatron finally put Rodimus in his place, how much Rodimus deserved to be screamed at. It's just fiction, true, but in the back of my mind, I always think, ‘If I told you that this happened to me, would you say I deserved it, too?’

Because I've seen very little recognition of the fact that victims do sometimes fight back. They often pay for it, but when you're driven into a corner you don't lie down and take it every time.

No one looks like a Hollywood victim all the time--crying and ‘weak’ and only staying because of fear. Anyone of any personality type can be abused. And abusers are experts at seeming like good, upstanding people; they need to be able to build a narrative that casts them as the hero or anti-hero. You need to see a whole pattern to recognize them for what they are--and they're invested in hiding that pattern by any means necessary so they won't lose that control, that power over both their current victim and other future victims.

Some abusers apologize going into the honeymoon phase of the abuse cycle as part of perpetuating that narrative. Others avoid taking blame at any cost, refusing to take responsibility for their actions. Megatron makes excuses rather than apologies and never does the work to make amends; like my abusive ex, he thinks experiencing any guilt at all absolves him of the hard work of fixing things. It doesn't; feeling bad is meaningless. It accomplishes nothing. And excuses relieve that guilt--the false high of unearned absolution.

Do they make excuses for their behavior or tend to blame others or circumstances for their mistakes?

It’s not his fault, you see! This murder squad he personally trained massacred two hundred of his crew members (the theory at the time of this panel was a ‘near future’ scenario, not parallel quantum shenanigans), but really, he knew this would happen the moment Optimus made him say sorry. These are natural consequences of making him do something he didn’t want to do.

Now, it’s true that Megatron didn’t order them to do this, but immediately putting the blame on Optimus making him vocally renounce the cause he was already claiming he’d renounced… When, y’know, these are his hand-picked and hand-trained assassins who he used to terrify his troops into abject obedience to all Decepticon beliefs… It’s just mind-boggling to me.

To explain another way: he just entered a ship full of two hundred mutilated corpses, all but a few showing signs of extreme torture. And he makes it about him. And he does that while still trying to dodge all blame. It’s a natural consequence of him reading the speech Optimus wrote for him, but it’s not because he trained a team of murderers in the art of violent murdering, no, that part has nothing to do with anything. They didn’t answer to him, he says, when he’s the only one who has Tarn’s comm number. When Tarn personally credits him with shaping him into the person he became.

The DJD are responsible for their own actions, certainly, but that doesn’t mean that Megatron isn’t responsible for giving them a list of traitors and turning them loose on his troops--and on innocent bystanders.

This would be a good opportunity for a sparkfelt apology. We could have seen Megatron mourn these dead and regret training the DJD and tell the survivors that he’ll find a way to talk to the DJD and make sure this never happens again (something he could have done at any time--he does have Tarn’s number, after all). We could have seen him start making reparations six months after saying he’d changed.

Instead we see him give a self-righteous little speech about how he’s totally blameless.

This may not be directed at Rodimus, but Rodimus numbers among the dead--he was the first corpse they found. And he cares not one bit that his living co-captain and second in command have vanished, with only gray and disfigured corpses to replace them. No, the most important thing in this situation is to twist the narrative and make sure everyone knows it’s not his fault.

This is what happens when he’s made to do things he doesn’t want to do. There are consequences; he doesn’t need to make reparations because the consequences are natural and right.

Living for millions of years with the DJD as real boogeymen who could appear and wreak this kind of devastation without warning if Megatron gave a single word? It’d be hard not to see those natural consequences as a threat.

Manipulation

“A favorite manipulation tactic is for the narcissist to make their spouse fear the worst, such as abandonment, infidelity, or rejection. Then they refute it and ask her for something she normally would reply with ‘No.’ This is a control tactic to get her to agree to do something she wouldn’t.” (“Eight Mental Abuse Tactics Narcissists Use on Spouses” by Christine Hammond, MS, LMHC)

All of the above is manipulation, without question. But I’m including this as a separate bullet point because it allows me to address a particular tactic that doesn’t fit neatly under any of the other sections.

Do they continually have “boundary violations” and disrespect your valid requests?

Megatron has no respect for Rodimus’ personal space, particularly when he’s being ‘defiant’ in some way. Paring away text to focus on body language, it becomes even more abundantly clear.

From the beginning of season two, he towers over Rodimus, jabbing a finger less than a hand’s breadth from his face.

When he wants to be obeyed, he physically gets in Rodimus’ face--snarling and huge.

And as a new arc begins, he’s once again looming and jabbing fingers in Rodimus’ personal space.

If I listed every panel where Megatron was shown leaning physically over Rodimus, I’d be including almost every panel they share. And before anyone says it’s because of Megatron’s size, and he can’t help but loom--he doesn’t do it to other characters unless they, too, are ‘misbehaving.’ He’s perfectly capable of keeping a straight back and relatively professional distance with most mechs, even when being threatened, even with extreme height differences:

Straight back, no leaning over Tailgate, no snarl. It’s the same with other crew members. With Rodimus, however, his nonverbal cues are constantly screaming dominance fight.

Now, I’m a small person, so maybe I’m especially sensitive to this--I’m just barely five feet tall and not muscular in the slightest. When much-bigger people get in my space the way Megatron gets in Rodimus’ space, it’s terrifying. Respectful people don’t do those things, and you can’t convince me that it’s merely a product of his size. My boyfriend of almost ten years now is eleven inches taller than I am, and he’s never once loomed over me or used his size to intimidate me.

I might be willing to call it thoughtless rather than an abuse tactic, since it is possible to loom unintentionally--except he singles Rodimus out for this treatment.

And it works.

After the first example above, Rodimus is visibly cowed while Megatron practically presses himself against his back:

Note the lowered spoilers on Rodimus’ back, the lowered head, the expression on his face.

And after the second panel, he literally transforms and obeys Megatron without further question.

Constant physical intimidation has unfortunate effects on a person, particularly when used alongside verbal and emotional abuse tactics like the ones I’ve been describing. This is a documented aspect of physical abuse--of which physical intimidation is a part--but I also know it intimately.

My abusive ex boyfriend never hit me, but he used physical intimidation tactics like these on a daily basis. He sat between me and the aisle on the bus and got in my face and snarled at the least provocation, but he also just--loomed. He was always--always--in my bubble, to the point that sometimes my friends would literally push him out of it. He would stand behind me like that, and when I have nightmares I can still feel his hard-on pressed against my lower back, his hands on on my hips or shoulders to keep me where he wanted me, the heat of his breath on me as he curled above me, around me, cutting off every exit until he was physically my entire world.

Which brings me to the panel that finally set me off enough to write the meta post I’d been mentally composing for over a year:

I feel sick when I look at this panel. When I look at the hand on his back and the way Megatron curls around him and the way the hand that’s always jabbing fingers in his face is caging him in. When I look at the way Rodimus is hugging himself, pulling in and away from Megatron--because in is his only escape route, because Megatron has cut off everything else. Verbally isolating him, then emotionally, then physically.

Rodimus doesn’t have any friends here to shove Megatron out of his bubble. Rodimus has the certainty that Megatron could be screaming at him (again), could be threatening him with hands in his face (that we can see are the size of Rodimus’ torso), could actually be injuring him--which we haven’t seen, but, honestly? “Whenever you shout my name I expect to get shot,” uh, isn’t a ringing endorsement of what might be happening behind closed doors, where most actual violence plays out.

Even if Megatron hasn’t hurt him--and I haven’t got enough proof to conclusively say one way or another--the threat is still there. As I said, my abusive ex never hit me. But I knew--every time he screamed, every time he got in my face--that he could. That he was capable of it.

He didn’t have to hit me. Like Rodimus, my defiance never lasted--without support, with too much fear, I decided that I needed to pick my battles. And, one by one, he pushed through my boundaries. Because if it wasn’t worth picking a battle over him stroking my inner thigh outside my shorts, was it worth fighting him on stroking the inside of my waistband? With that boundary demolished, was it really so unexpected--really worth challenging--when he went past the waistband?

After all, it was my fault he was so riled up. I’d done this to him. Didn’t I owe it to him to fix the problems I’d caused? But I guess that particular bit of nastiness comes from the next section--the victim card.

Victim Card

“When all else fails, the narcissist resorts to playing the victim card. This is designed to gain sympathy and further control behavior.” (“Eight Mental Abuse Tactics Narcissists Use on Spouses” by Christine Hammond, MS, LMHC)

At every point in Megatron’s “redemption” arc, he casts himself as a tragic figure. Poor Megatron, made to stand trial! Poor Megatron, asked to provide evidence to expedite the trial! (optional; he didn't consent to mnemosurgery and they immediately left) Poor Megatron, asked to read a speech renouncing the cause he already said he'd renounced! (optional; purely a get-out-of-jail-free card) Poor Megatron, surrounded by incompetence on this privately owned neutral ship he was given captaincy of in place of his prison stay! Poor Megatron, forced to drink ‘poison’! (optional; again, he made the choice himself) Poor Megatron, having to share the ship with the mech who owns it! Poor Megatron, faced with the knowledge that some people wish the war had never happened! Possibly even the knowledge of how many mechs he killed! What terrible knowledge.

Poor Megatron, indeed.

All of these situations are fair and reasonable for him to encounter. He's not a tragic figure for facing any of these things; in fact, the last two are hardly even about him. Billions died, and we're supposed to feel sorry for him surveying the field of flowers? For having to face the facts of what he did when he still doesn't face any negative repercussions for his choices?

This is entitlement, but it's also an abuse tactic. My ex used this trick to guilt me into roleplaying sexual situations I was really, really not comfortable with, while my mother used it to get me to do...well, in retrospect, basically anything she felt like I owed her.

Used on the wrong party, this tactic is just grating--case in point, Getaway and his mutineers. He specifically cited this overall strategy in his last call with the crew on the Necroplanet. But on someone who already has a guilt complex--someone who's easily manipulated by authority figures telling him it's his duty to do one thing or another, insisting nothing he does is enough and he owes more than he can give--the sort of person who carves into his hand the number of people who wanted him gone? Yeah, that's a different story.

Do they blame you for their problems or unhappiness?

Prior to this panel, Rodimus just informed Megatron that Brainstorm seemed to have jumped through time. Rodimus specifically gives him time to process the info, too.

He's beings downright nice about it.

And, yes, it's absolutely fine to need time to process or to freak about things not going according to plan. That's natural! I say this despite the fact that Megatron--a mech made of black holes--isn't exactly unfamiliar with weird science. In fact, one of the thirteen ores seeded by Shockwave had time properties, and they literally just met quantum doubles of their entire ship. I'm a little dubious about his claims of a minor breakdown here, but the freak-out itself isn't the real problem here.

What's not fine is taking that as an excuse to once again lean in over Rodimus (note the angle Megatron shifts to once he starts yelling), jab a finger in his face, and personally insult him. What's he done to warrant the “You are ridiculous” line and accusatory tone, other than tell Megatron something he didn't want to hear? How does keeping him briefed and patiently waiting for him to process lead to the conclusion that Rodimus is his own, personal punishment?

Well, keeping a level head while publicly briefing Megatron means undermining some of that narrative he’s so carefully constructing, where Rodimus is rash and rude and impulsive and irresponsible. Unsuited to command. Because in this scene? Rodimus looks and acts like a capable and considerate commander.

There's also the fact that Rodimus is treating him like a peer rather than a superior here.

Now, that might not be why Megatron lashes out. He might genuinely be disturbed by the idea of time travel and instinctively target his current favorite (emotional) punching bag. But I think it's telling that he immediately turns something going wrong into being Rodimus’ fault when he's actually doing his job quite well in this scene, not to mention respecting Megatron as co-captain. It's also telling that he breaks out the same physical intimidation tactics I described in the last subsection the moment he gets agitated.

So why do I think this is an abuse tactic and not poorly-handled panic, aside from Megatron's extensive experience with various types of weird science? Because Rodimus doesn't try to contradict him. He doesn't fight the point or defend himself. And, sure, that could be a sign of maturity--but it can also be a sign that he's beginning to internalize Megatron's message, especially when looked at in the context of everything else I mentioned in this post.

In fact, let’s cover his motivations and intentions a bit more directly.

INTENTIONALITY

Assessing whether abusive behavior is deliberate can be nearly impossible when you’re living in it. For example, I highly doubt that my mom is any kind of mastermind with an ultimate end goal of control over me. I’m not actually sure what she was thinking for any of that--she insists most of it never happened and has a different justification every time I ask about the parts she doesn’t deny (although she sometimes denies those, too, depending on her mood).

Even if Megatron’s behavior wasn’t intentional, it would still be unacceptable, dangerous, and traumatic. But I do genuinely believe it’s deliberate--partly because of the following scene:

This is coming from Ravage--a spy with extensive experience that goes all the way back to the day of the Senate. He’s seen a lot. And he makes a compelling argument:

Ravage points out numerous occasions where Megatron played the long game--planning ahead, setting up for what he might want someday as well as what he wants today. Reaching for the dark matter, delaying his trial with sidequests as soon as the opportunity presented itself--those, too, are examples of this.

So it stands to reason that all of this manipulation could serve the fairly straightforward goal of setting himself up to be sole captain of the Lost Light--or some other goal we haven’t yet worked out that requires tearing down Rodimus’ reputation and isolating him from the rest of the crew.

IN CONCLUSION

Megatron is abusing Rodimus. Emotionally and verbally at the very least, but possibly other forms of abuse. He’s certainly threatening physical abuse with his nonverbal cues--and, by some definitions, is in fact perpetrating physical abuse by bodily intimidating Rodimus.

The evidence is overwhelming, and I think that this interpretation gives greater depth and meaning to JRo’s characterizations of both Rodimus and Megatron. Through this lens, Rodimus’ increasingly erratic and seemingly out-of-character behavior as the series progresses can be viewed as a response to gaslighting and other abuse. Meanwhile, for Megatron, this interpretation serves to connect his current behavior to his wartime behavior in a way that feels more in line with IDW’s past version of him instead of a sudden and hollow change.

Ultimately, though, this interpretation is important to me as an abuse survivor. I don't fault those who want to write their own version of Megatron, but, if I'm being honest? I never again want to see another post insisting that Megatron can't be written as abusive. (and if you think this is vagueblogging about someone in particular, I swear it's not. I've seen multiple posts and tweets echoing this sentiment. This isn't some vague callout post; it's an alternative interpretation that runs counter to the dominant fandom narrative as I've encountered it.)

You can keep your interpretation of Megatron. He is a fictional character who has been written by dozens of different people in numerous canons. If you don't want to write about him as an abusive and manipulative jerk, by all means, don't. The only request I make is that you not condemn those who do.

Multiple interpretations of canon lead to more varied and interesting fan works. And I think that's good for everyone.

Additional Reading

In case you want to do further reading, here are some links to other articles I looked at while making this post. I may add to this if I find any others that feel relevant.

15 Types of Verbal Abuse in Relationships

10 Signs You Are in a Relationship with a Narcissist (first part in a series)