You know what’s sad?
Always having to stay in the car
because I am too damn scared to
go in the store.
I’m scared of their hateful and hurtful words.
A young Native American girl,
too fucking scared to go shopping
You hear of “black lives matter”
What about Native Americans?
Oh yeah, they’re shoved onto these lands called reservations.
This poor little prairie nigger
surviving off of EBT and commodities
scared of traveling.
Scared of the harmful words of the white man.
In the lakota culture, mitukaye oyasin,
That means “we are all related” Whatever happened to that?
I’m tired of being pushed aside
I’m tired of being hurt by the white man
I’m tired of seeing my oyate, my people
suffer at the hands of the white man
What do I have to do?
Scream in the governments face?
“Here I am fuckers, pay attention to my people, we are suffering!”
From the battle of the little big horn
To the wounded knee massacre
Our people are still having to deal with that depression
We shouldn’t have to.
We don’t deserve that.
We are indigenous people
Native to the land
We deserve much better
Than this shit hole that we call home
I was always taught to keep my
mouth shut when it comes to racist remarks
I want to break this silence
I want to go in the store and not be afraid of what others have to say.
I want to break free.
Warnings: The aftermath of emotional manipulation, I guess
Kink Bingo: Technological
AO3
You can consider this a sequel to this story if you want. After I wrote that, I knew I’d be doing something to get the taste of it out of my mouth, and this was a lot of fun to work on! I really enjoyed writing this, and it was supposed to be rather shorter, but that does mean I’m definitely starting to get longer transformers stories into my fingers now. This story has some plug and play elements, but it’s not terribly sexual, so I don’t know how much it counts.
It’s… hard. After Getaway. You just want things to go back to normal. More than anything, you just want things to go back to normal. And you aren’t bad at pretending things are okay! You can get drinks with Chromedome and Rewind, or you can hang out with Ten, or, or all kinds of things, you can do that just fine. It’s just. You know. Hard.
It’s exhausting is what it is, you can go to Swerve’s just fine, or movie night, but then you spend all your time wondering whether anyone actually wants you there, or whether you’re just being as stupid as you were before, and all you want to do is go back to your hab suite, but you’re stuck there with people for ages and ages and ages and everything is exhausting and terrible. You believed Getaway when he said he loved you. So you’ll go places, if people invite you. But you don’t go out yourself, and you’re getting really good at finding excuses to just stay in your hab suite. Alone.
You think Cyclonus notices. He has to notice. And more than anything else, you want to ask him about… you know. Everything. No matter how pathetic it makes you look. But you haven’t said a word. You haven’t even asked him about the innermost energon he left for you—you still have it, hidden in a box under your recharge slab. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do with these things, but. You want to keep it. And at the same time, you don’t want to ask Cyclonus about anything, you’d rather ask anyone else on the ship. He already must think so poorly of you, so no. You’re not going to set yourself to watch him be even more disappointed in you, thanks.
My head canon for how their relationship could start..? A version where they clash but learn to get along… I wanted to go a little further, but I’ve never done a full color comic story before, and needed to try to keep things manageable.;.;
Honestly, Megatron could teach Rodimus how to control a bulldozer with patience and care and I would probably love it. Sorry this doesn’t have actual knot stuff in it, maybe this is a Part One of Two?.