#i just went a full on crazy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bigmack2go · 8 months ago

Text

I know i‘m late. I forgot to post this but here is the first half of my fic.

Five time the lodge leaders sat a kid down to fill them in on life, and one time the kid already knew

I tried to give each of them their own little touch but disclaimer: i think i might have taken it a little far with the queens one…

Jack was one of the oldest boy in the lodging house, a lot of the kids saw him as a leader figure which gave him responsibility he never asked for.

Jack sat on the edge of his cot, running a hand through his messy hair. Across from him, perched awkwardly on a rickety stool, was Snipeshooter, a scrawny 11-year-old with wide eyes and a curious mind.

"Alright, Snipe," Jack began, his voice absolutely totally completely free of nervousness. "We gotta talk about some things. Things that you're gonna start noticing or maybe already have. It's part of growin' up."

Snipeshooter fidgeted, his eyes darting around the room. "Like what, Jack?"

Jack took a deep breath. "Well, it's about...y'know, girls and stuff. And what happens when you get older."

Tommy's eyes widened. "You mean like...’the talk?’ I heard some of the older boys talking about that, but they just laughed when I asked."

Jack nodded, hiding his own discomfort. "Yeah, ‘the talk’. Listen, it aint nothin’ ta laugh about. It’s important, and you gotta understand it right."

He paused, looking for the right words. "So, when you start gettin' older, your body changes. You might notice you're getting hair in places you didn't before. That's normal. It happens ta all of us."

Snipe’s face flushed, but he nodded.

"An' you might start feelin' different too. Like, you might start likin' girls in a way you didn't before. Maybe you get nervous around 'em, or you wanna spend more time with 'em. That's all normal too."

The kid looked down at his hands, twisting them in his lap. "But what do I do about it?"

Jack smiled, though it felt a bit forced. "Well, first thing is, you gotta be respectful. Girls ain't just there for you to look at or mess with. They're people, same as you and me. If you like a girl, you treat her right. Be kind, listen to her, and don't do nothin' she don't want."

He nodded, absorbing the advice. "What about...um, you know, the other stuff? Like what happens when you...like a girl…like a lot?"

Jack cleared his throat, finally feeling his own cheeks grow warm too. "A’ight, well, sometimes when ya like someone a lot, ya might wanna be close ta them. Real close. That's where things can get tricky. If you ever get ta that point, you gotta make sure it's what both of ya want. And there are consequences, Snipeshooter. Big ones. Babies an’ all."

His eyes went huge, but this time with fear. "Babies?"

"Yeah," Jack said firmly. "Babies. It ain't just about you anymore then. It's about a whole other person ya gotta take care of. No, two othe people actually. So you gotta be real careful. If you ever get ta that point, you needa know what yer doin'. And if you don't, you come to me again, alright?"

He looked up, "I will, Cowboy. I promise."

Jack ruffled through his hair with a smile. He is just a kid still. They all are. "Good. An’ remember, always think ‘bout how the other person feels. If ya ever feel unsure, or if someone ever makes ya feel uncomfortable, you come to me or one of the other older boys. We look out for each other here. You’se good friends with Sniper, right?"

"Yeah…I didn't know any of this."

"That's why we talk about it," Jack chuckled, ruffling Snipeshooter’s hair. "It's a part of growin' up, and it's better ta know than te be caught off guard. Now, get some sleep. We got papers to sell in the mornin’."

He stood up, still looking thoughtful. "Goodnight, Jack."

"Goodnight."

As Snipeshooter turned to leave, Jack's mind churned. There was something else he needed to talk about, something that weighed heavily on him. "Wait, Snipe," he called.

Snipe paused, turning back with a curious look. "Yeah?"

Jack hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "There's somethin' else I fegot. It's about likin' people. Sometimes, ye might find ya don't just like girls. Ya might like boys too."

Snipe’s eyes widened again, but this time with confusion. "Really? Is that...okay?"

Jack nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah, it's okay. Some boys like boys, and some like girls, and some like both. It's just how some folks are. But ya gotta be real careful about who yo tell. It can be dangerous."

"Dangerous? Why?"

"’cause not everyone understands or thinks it's okay," Jack explained, "Some people can be real mean about it. They don't get that it's jus’ love. So if ya ever feel that way, you don't gotta tell no one. It's yer own business. And the other boy of course, but ya gotta be careful."

Snipeshooter’s face was a mix of relief and fear. "Thanks, Jack."

Jack smiled halfhearted. "That's alright. Ye don' have ta tell me or or nothin’. Just know that whatever ya feel, it's okay. And yer not alone."

He nodded, a hint of a smile returning. "Have you ever felt like that, Jack?."

"Get some sleep now," Jack said, patting the bed next to him. "We got a long day ahead."

He frowned and Jack sighed, “This ain’t about me, Snipe.”

Snipeshooter shuffled off to his own bunk, and Jack lay back in his.

In another lodging house across New York, a boy named Spot Conlon was the leader the newsboys and newsgirls who called this place home. His best friend, Hotshot, was his ally.

That evening, Spot and Hotshot sat in a small room off the main hall. With them was Jenny, a timid 11-year-old girl with a mop of red curls and creepy bug eyes. Jenny had been acting different lately—more withdrawn, more… well, just different. Spot knew it was time, but this one required a delicate touch.

"Hey, Jen," Spot began, his voice gentle. "Mind if we talk fe a bit? There's some stuff we’s gotta go over."

Jenny’s eyes switched between Spot and Hotshot, who sat beside her, offering a pursed press of lips (which is supposed to look like a reassuring smile.)

Her friends exchanged a worried look: Spot Conlon and his second in command, Hotshot wanted to ‘talk’ to her. Alone. Is she gonna come back?

But then again, not everyone who’s alone with Spot Conlon and his second in command, Hotshot to ‘talk’, necessarily dies. She may not even get hurt. In fact, just a few months ago, they were worrying the same about Pitch, the only one of the friends thats older than Jenny, when Spot Conlon and his second in command, Hotshot, wanted to ‘talk’ to her alone, and she came back just fine. And now, Pitch was also the only one who didn’t look worried. Knowing, if anything. Jenny just turned eleven not so long ago after all. Pitch knew that.

"Okay," she said softly and exchanged a scared look with her friends. So she went with Spot Conlon and his second in command, Hotshot to ‘talk’. Alone.

They sat her down in some room and Spot took a deep breath, exchanging a quick glance with Hotshot. "A’igh’, so ye’s getting te that age where things start te change. Ya body, ya feelings—they'se gonna be different. In’ it's important ye get what's happening."

Jenny looked down at her hands, fidgeting with a loose thread on her dress. "Like what?"

Hotshot leaned in, "Like, ye might notice yo body changin’. Ye gon’ start gettin’ bigger breasts, and you'll probably getcha period soon.”

“What’s that?”

“That's when you bleed from down there once a month.”

“BLEEDIN’?!” She almost shouted. (Were Spot Conlon and his second in command, Hotshot threatening her?)

“It's parta growin’ up and becoming a woman."

Jenny's eyes widened, and she looked at Hotshot in alarm. "Is it bad?"

Hotshot shook her head, smiling reassuringly. Let me repeat: Spot Conlon’s second in command, Hotshot was smiling at her. The only reason she can find for that is that she was probably too young to be a threat to them, or to hurt her… maybe?

"Nah, it aint. It can be uncomfortable, but it's normal. Every girl goes through it. It means yer body is healthy an’ growin’ up just like it should."

Great. The one thing that kept her from being bet up was being a child, and now that’s gone too… wait. We’re they threatening her after all?

“But how’s it healthy ta bleed?”

Hotshot chuckled. C H U C K L E D. Spot Conlon’s second in command, Hotshot, who he and her were alone with right now to ‘talk’ chuckled at her.

“Good question, kid. But it won’t last longer than a week. If that helps…”

“A week?! Imma bleed out…” she realised in horror.

Spot nodded. He was painfully aware that they lived in a reality where kids knew about bleeding out, but not about their own body. "It's aint jus’ yer body changin'. When ya start likin' someone, it can be… confusin’. Ye might feel noivous, or somethin’ around them. That's normal."

"But how’s I know if I likes sumone?"

"Ye'll know. It feels different from just likin’ a friend.” Hotshot said, “Ye might get like… like a tingly feelin’ in ya stomach. Like ants in your stomach—“

“Ants?!”

“Butterflies.” Spot helped

“…or think ‘bout them a lot." Hotshot said.

Jenny blushed, looking down at her hands. "What happens if they like me back?"

Spot exchanged a quick look with Hotshot before continuing. "If they like yer back, it's important te be honest with each other. Talk ‘bout how ye feel and whatcha want. Maybe ye like boys, or maybe ya like girls. OR BOTH! Of course. Thats possible too. It's all part’a figuring out who ye are."

Jenny's cheeks flushed, and she looked between them, confused. "Is that...is that okay?"

“Ta have te figure ya’self out?”

“Well— yeah… but not that. I meant likin’ girls.” She whispered, “I din’ know that was even possible…”

"Absolutely," Hotshot said without hesitating. Her face was firm. "It's okay te like whoever ye like. Butcha gotta be real careful. Some people don' understand it. So it's important te know who ye c’n trust."

Jenny's eyes flickered with worry. "What if...what if I dunno who I likes yet?"

Spot smiled gently. "That's okay too. Yo don't have to figure it all out right now. Just take yer time in’ be yeself. You’se young.But ya gotta be careful too. Not everyone has good intentions. And if ye ever feel unsure or needa talk, ye can come talk te us."

Jenny looked up. ‘Talk’ to Spot Conlon or his second in command, Hotshot? "Really? I can talk te yer ‘bout anythin’?"

"Anythin’," Hotshot confirmed, reaching out to squeeze Jenny's hand. "We're here for you, no matter what."

Jenny took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing a little. "Thanks, Hotshot. And you too, Spot. I thought ye guys were gon’ beat me up."

Spot chuckled, “Now why would we do that?”

“I dunno! That’s why i was so scared and confused. I din’ even remember doin’ anythin’ wrong!”

“In’ even if ya did! Yer just a kid, we aint gon’ beatcha up!”

“Oh… but you’re Spot Conlon…”

“Don’ tell anyone.”

She giggled.

“But seriously: Do me a favour in’ act like I threatened yer or somethin’! Gotta hold this lodge up somehow.”

She nodded hurriedly.

Spot felt a surge of pride, mixed with a deep sense of responsibility.

“That ain’t gon’ be too hard ‘cause I thought that was the case until like… a minute ago…”

Spot breathed a laugh.

“Hey, uhm… thanks…”

"That's what we’se here fe, Jenny. Te look out fa each other. Now, get back te yer friends."

Jenny nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Jenny," Spot began gently, "there's more we needa talk about.”

Hotshot nodded, her expression turning serious. "That's right. Some boys, and even men, can be really bad te girls. They might try te take advantage a’yer, or make ye do things ya dun’ wanna. From experience I can say it's important te trust your instincts. If someone makes ye feel bad, get away from ‘em an’ tell someone ye trust."

Jenny's face reflected a mix of concern and determination. "But how do I know who ta trust?"

"Ye can trust us," Spot suggested. "And there’s others too. Older girls who have been through that, or even some of the boys. The ones i the lodge, ye can trust them. I know it. The older boys who look out fe ya. But always listen ta yer gut. If somethin’ doesn't feel right, it probably aint."

Hotshot leaned in closer to Jenny. "And rememma, ya have the right te say no. Ta anything. Yer body and yet feelin’s are yours, and no one has the right te make you do something you don' wanna. If ye ever have sumthin’ like that happen te yer, come ta me or Spot, okay?"

Jenny nodded, her eyes shining with , "Okay, I will.”

“Just remember, ye're not alone. We're all here for each other."

Hotshot gave Jenny's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Exactly. Growin’ up aint easy, but ye got people who care ‘bout ya. We'll help yer through it."

Jenny took a deep breath, standing up with a small smile, "Goodnight, Spot. Goodnight, Hotshot."

"Goodnight, Jenny," they replied in unison.

As Jenny left the room, Hotshot turned to Spot, her eyes soft. "’Thats what we’se here for’? Seriously?"

“I was tryin’! Ye said ta be nice about it!”

Hotshot sighed, “Ye did good.” She turned to leave with a clap on his shoulder.

Spot shrugged, a rare blush creeping up his neck. "Couldn't have done it withoutcha."

Hotshot chuckled, "Shut up…"

That night, Jenny krept into Pitch’s bed and asked her if the same happened to her when Spot Conlon and his second in command, Hotshot, had “talked‘ to her. Alone. (yes), whether she already had experienced all of that stuff (no), or some of it (yes), whether she liked anyone (let me sleep), and if she knew if she liked girls (what?)

In the borough of Queens, where the clang of streetcars and the bustle of vendors filled the air, there existed a lodging house where newsboys and newsgirls found sanctuary. Dottie O'Brien, known for her sharp wit and protective nature, was the eldest amongst the newsgirls, with her 17 years. She kept a watchful eye over the younger girls and boys, ensuring they navigated their lives with as much guidance as Queens could offer.

One evening, after the last papers had been sold and the sun dipped below the skyline in a aquarellic paint of blues and golds, Dottie found herself in a quiet corner of the common room. Timmy, a 10-year-old with tousled blond hair and a perpetual curiosity, approached her tentatively.

"Dottie," Tiny began, "can I ask you somethin'?"

Dottie looked up from the book she was reading, a small smile gracing her lips. "Course you can, Timmy. What's on your mind?"

Timmy shuffled his feet, glancing around. He met Dottie's steady gaze. "Well, it's about...about girls."

Dottie raised an eyebrow, masking her surprise with calm assurance. "Alright, what about 'em?"

Timmy hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "How do you know if you...if you like a girl?"

Dottie leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap and slapping the book close. "That's a good question, Timmy. When you like someone, it's like they're always on your mind. You might feel happy around 'em, or get shy and nervous. It's a funny feeling, but it's nice too."

Timmy nodded slowly, absorbing her words carefully. "And...what if the girl likes me back?" He‘d asked youthfully.

Dottie chuckled softly and warm. "Well, then you'll know because she might act different around you too. She might smile a lot or want to spend time with you. It's a bit like playin' a game of catch—tossin' hints back and forth until someone catches on."

Dottie could see a lightbulb, one of those rich-people-things, turn on in his head, but then it seemed to die down"But what if...what if someone's mean to her? Or tries to hurt her?"

Dottie's eyes softened, her protective instincts settinv in. "Tiny, listen to me. It's never okay for someone to be mean or hurtful. If you see someone actin' that way toward a girl—or anyone for that matter—stand up for 'em. And if you can't do it alone, find someone who can help. We gotta look out for each other, alright?"

Timmy nodded solemnly, his gaze steady and full of determination. "Alright, Dottie. I'll remember that."

Dottie smiled warmly, proud of Timmy's resolve, curiosity and courage . "Good lad. And remember, be respectful and kind. Treat others the way you want to be treated." She winked at hin knowingly. The girl always knew what was up but Tiny wasn’t being secretive about it either. She read him like she read her book earlier

Timmy shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "Um, Dottie...what if I don't like girls? What if I...like boys?"

Dottie's smile didn't falter as she met Tiny's gaze, her voice gentle yet firm and strong. "Timmy, it's okay. Some boys like boys, and some like girls, and some like both. It's just how some folks are. But you gotta be careful who you tell. Not everyone understands, and some people can be mean about it. So if you ever feel that way, you don't gotta tell nopne unless you trust 'em completely. Alright?"

Timmy nodded, relief washing over his features. He grew visibly more confident and comfortable, "Alright, Dottie. Thanks for tellin' me. I was scared to ask."

Dottie reached out, ruffling his hair affectionately like an older sister might be seen with her little brother. "Timmy, if you ever want to learn more, there are older boys here who might know more. They can help you understand things better. And if you want, I can come too. Just let me know, alright?"

Timmy paused, considering her offer, before nodding gratefully. "Okay, Dottie. I'll remember that."

"You did the right thing, Timmy. Never be afraid to ask questions. That's how you learn. Now, it's gettin' late. Time for bed."

Timmy smiled, standing up straighter with newfound confidence. "Goodnight, Dottie."

"Goodnight, Timmy," Dottie replied warmly, watching him head off to his cot.

As Dottie settled back into her chair, the weight of responsibility mingled with a sense of satisfaction. Each talk, each moment of guidance, was a step toward helping somebody navigate the complexities of growing up in Queens. In a world where dangers lurked around every corner, she knew her role was crucial—to protect, to educate, and to ensure they all had a fighting chance in this city.

I was thinking about how Jack and Spot are the leaders of Manhattan and Brooklyn and they are in charge of all the newsies in their boroughs so does that mean they have to give younger newsies “THE TALK”. Imagine Jack Kelly sitting you down to do that like AHHHH (can someone write a fic about it but it like turns into a mess and jack ends up crying)

#fic tag #tried to keep the first one casual #and then for the rest #i just went a full on crazy #but a different kind of crazy for each of them #lol

39 notes · View notes

lord-squiggletits · 2 years ago

Text

Pharma's place in a Functionist society (headcanon)

So I've talked in some previous posts about all the reasons that Pharma isn't a functionist because canon never showed him espousing functionist ideals + he's actually in a place to be a victim of functionism. And I've been working on a Pharma-centric oneshot that made me put into words the best metaphor I can think of for Pharma's relationship with Functionism:

He doesn't support Functionism, but is simultaneously a beneficiary of it and also marginalized by it, because his position of being forged both a doctor and a jet basically turns him into a "token minority" of sorts.

I know that sounds kind of silly or maybe like a clumsy political allegory, but hear me out. There are a couple facts about Pharma and the circumstances of his forging that put him at the crossroads between privilege and marginalization within Functionism:

Tyrest says that Pharma was "famous for being forged." Not famous for being a forged medic-- otherwise surely Ratchet would be just as noteworthy-- but famous for being FORGED. But also, note that this is an opinion that SOCIETY had about Pharma, not something that Pharma espouses about himself. (For the sake of an example, Pharma isn't Starscream, who has an explicit, deep-seated need for others' love and approval. Pharma himself doesn't express any opinions on his own popularity or convey that fame/adoration is something he wants.)

Functionism on Cybertron held that if someone was born with a certain alt-mode, they can/should only have certain jobs. For people born with flight alt-modes, those people were almost always regulated to military or transportation/courier jobs

SIMULTANEOUSLY, Pharma was forged with medic hands, which under a Functionist society were viewed as the peak of medical care and all the best doctors were forged or at least had a "special something" that non-forged hands lacked (according to Ratchet).

So taken in combination, this means that from the moment of Pharma's birth, he straddled a line of Functionism between two different "predestined" paths for him, where he was simultaneously forged to be a doctor and also forged to fly, fitting into BOTH of these categories despite norms of Functionism which say you're one or the other. And I speculate that the reason Pharma is "famous for being forged" is precisely because of those lines he straddles: his very existence is a contradiction, but he was also FORGED that way. The same creed that dictated the two different functions of "hands" and "alt-mode" also says that Pharma should be what he was born to be. What he was born to be was a forged medic jet.

In my opinion, I think that being "famous for being forged" is sort of like a token-minority situation for Pharma, where perhaps Pharma was seen as a curiosity or even something exotic, not just as a person. Maybe because he was a jet and people assumed jets were only soldiers/transportation, a lot of his achievements were put in the light of "Oh, he's a really amazing doctor, for a jet" or "It's crazy that he's a doctor AND a jet at the same time". The attention Pharma received for the unique circumstances of his birth WAS positive, but it would've likely been framed in a bit of a condescending way, as if Pharma is noteworthy and famous not for being a good doctor, but for being a good doctor despite being born a jet.

So I would say that as far as Pharma's personal experience with Functionism, he simultaneously experienced privilege and marginalization. He enjoyed the privileges of being a medic while avoiding the restrictions of being a flight frame. However, a lot of the idolization and attention he received would have also come from a place of tokenizing Pharma: he's "famous for being forged," because in this society he's defying expectations merely for existing as himself. That is to say, Pharma in a Functionist society wasn't treated as remarkable because of who he is as a person and how hard he worked to be a good doctor; he was treated as remarkable for the circumstances of his forging, something he had no control over and can't change, and apparently Pharma being a forged medic jet is such a noteworthy origin that he's "famous" for it.

The above paragraph is purely headcanon, of course, but I like to imagine that part of Pharma's reason for having a big ego isn't out of simple vanity or insecurity, but because of a sort of "gifted student" syndrome, in a sense. From the moment he was forged he was treated as a rarity and an incredible phenomenon, and he would have had to work incredibly hard to be seen as "an incredible doctor" in his own right rather than just "that forged medic jet." Maybe, as a jet, he also had something to prove; he had to show to a Functionist society that being a jet doesn't make him an inferior doctor and that his alt-mode has nothing to do with his skills at his profession.

That is to say, I don't think Pharma would have been openly anti-Functionist, or had many opinions about it at all. I actually lean towards the interpretation that Pharma basically saw himself as getting lucky with the way he was forged and being content with the fact that he'd managed to carve out a reputation for himself as being incredibly skilled. However, Pharma not getting involved politically in Functionism doesn't change the fact that he WOULD have had a very complicated relationship with Functionism, in that alt-mode discrimination would have had an effect on him even though he was in the scientific/medical class and supposedly privileged.

#mtmte #mtmte pharma #transformers idw #transformers meta #mtmte meta #squiggposting #pharma apologism #pharma doesn't fit neatly into categories of privileged or oppressed and that makes him especially interesting #tldr: pharma probably got microaggressioned a lot at work lmao #some med student: oh my gosh... a flight frame in medical school... how did you manage that?#omg pharma it's so craaazy that you can fly and you're also a doctor #wow pharma your hands are incredible it's a good reason you have them or they probably wouldn't have let you in #pharma smiling tightly with a drink in his hands: yeah. crazy.#pharma: anyways i'm gonna go perform a triple organ donation everyone fuck off i'm working #i think pharma never got political mainly because he comes off as the type who focuses on his job and nothing else #like he's experienced marginalization on account of being a forged medic JET but he kind of just went #well I overcame the odds and i'm the best doctor ever now and my position in society is comfortable that's all i wanted #but it's a far cry from fanon that decides to make him a full on card carrying functionist that's openly bigoted #i feel like i just repeated myself over and over again without saying much ah well

198 notes · View notes