Sometimes Crazy Works

Indie Semi-Selective IDW Whirl of Polyhex. PLEASE READ MY RULES BEFORE INTERACTING.

[warbidden-a-deactivated20200611]

                                                                    Tell me.

                                                                                                     When you look at the stars —                                                                                                                        What do you see?

All the people I couldn’t save.

                                                                      • • • •                                     Ind. Sel. RED SOLDIER from TEAM FORTRESS 2.                                                           Saluted by ROCKET.

                                                        [ Previously AREIICS. ]

[weaponupp]

Muse Body Language

BOLD  what you apply to your muse

REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG !

Whirl

DEFENSIVENESS: arms crossed on chest // crossing legs // fist-like gestures // pointing index finger // karate chops // stiffening of shoulders // tense posture // curling of lip // baring of teeth

REFLECTIVE: hand-to-face gestures // head tilted // stroking chin // peering over glasses // taking glasses off — cleaning // putting earpiece of glasses in mouth // pipe smoker gestures//putting hand to the bridge of the nose // pursed lips // knitted brows

SUSPICION: arms crossed // sideways glance // touching or rubbing nose // rubbing eyes // hands resting on weapon // brows raising // lips pressing into a thin line // strict, unwavering eye contact// wrinkling of nose

OPENNESS & COOPERATION: open hands // upper body in sprinters position // sitting on the edge of a chair//hand-to-face gestures // unbuttoned coat // tilted head // slacked shoulders//droopy posture // feet pointed outward // palms flat and facing outward

CONFIDENCE: hands behind back // hands on lapels of coat // steepled hands // baring teeth in a grin//rolling shoulders // tipping head back but maintaining eye contact // chest puffed up/shoulders back // arms folded just above navel

INSECURITY & ANXIETY: chewing pen or pencil // rubbing thumb over opposite thumb // biting fingernails //hands in pockets // elbow bent/closed gestures // clearing throat // “whew” sound// picking or pinching flesh // fidgeting in chair // hand covering mouth whilst speaking//poor eye contact// tugging at pants whilst seated // jingling money in pockets //tugging at ear // perspiring hands //playing with hair // swaying // playing with pointer/marker // smacking lips // sighing // rocking on balls of feet // flexing fingers sporadically

FRUSTRATION: short breaths // “tsk” sounds // tightly-clenched hands // fist-like gestures //pointing index finger // running hand through hair // rubbing back of neck // snarling// revealing teeth/grimacing // sharp-eyed glowers with notable tension in the brows // shoulders back, head up - defensive posturing // clenching of jaw/grinding teeth // nostrils flaring//heavy exhale

TAGGED BY: @sixmillionyears

TAGGING: @hard-edgedandduly-appointed

[sixmillionyears]

“ I’m not tickilish—- DON’T YOU DARE. ”

IT’S SO FLUFFY!  //  sentence starters

      Tailgate’s hands froze inches from Whirl’s abdominal plating (the highest part of Whirl that he could reasonably reach), but not for very long. With optics staring straight into Whirl’s own Tailgate wiggled his fingers before delicately tickling him.

[weaponupp]

sixmillionyears‌:

weaponupp‌:

“The hell did I just saaaaaay- no!”  No Whirl, no…you don’t kick the ones you like.  Though you’re on real thin ice, Tailgate!

He stood on the very tips of his feet, holding himself as tall as possible to keep out of Tailgate’s grasp, “No!  Bad shrimp!  Bad!”

Damn his sexy, shapely figure for being so sensitive to light touches.

      Tailgate didn’t drop his hands, only pushing himself up onto the points of his feet with a sharp burst of laughter. “C’mon, Whirl, just a little tickle!” He bounced again in an attempt to reach. He loved to tease Whirl, if delicately. 

Ok, that does it!  With a short growl, Whirl grabs Tailgate under his arms.  Proceeding to hold him up and out away from his ticklish self, Whirl gives him a little shake.

“Ha!  Not so fun now is it, small fry?”

[sixmillionyears]

“ I’m not tickilish—- DON’T YOU DARE. ”

IT’S SO FLUFFY!  //  sentence starters

      Tailgate’s hands froze inches from Whirl’s abdominal plating (the highest part of Whirl that he could reasonably reach), but not for very long. With optics staring straight into Whirl’s own Tailgate wiggled his fingers before delicately tickling him.

[weaponupp]

“The hell did I just saaaaaay- no!”  No Whirl, no...you don’t kick the ones you like.  Though you’re on real thin ice, Tailgate!

He stood on the very tips of his feet, holding himself as tall as possible to keep out of Tailgate’s grasp, “No!  Bad shrimp!  Bad!”

Damn his sexy, shapely figure for being so sensitive to light touches.

[weaponupp]

sixmillionyears‌:

      It’s a good thing that Tailgate was too busy nuzzling into the side of Whirl’s head to see the tears, or he would certainly have pointed them out. As it was, the minibot held Whirl very close and enjoyed the idea that this could happen, now. This was allowed. Whirl was allowing him to be close, and he’d admitted to being happy this way. That was so incredible, and Tailgate could hardly contain himself.

      At Whirl’s statement the minibot joked, “Come on, Whirl, it’s not that bad. I cry all the time!” 

Yeah but I don’t, is what he wanted to say.  But he let it slide along with the sensation of just how wrong it felt to hear Tailgate say that of all things.  And how he of all people wanted to correct that.

“I’ve finally lost my mind,” is what came out instead as he pressed his helm more insistently against Tailgate’s.  Throwing all caution to the wind and finally heeding his aching back- it wasn’t easy leaning over with chest assets like his, Whirl withdrew from Tailgate’s affections only to plop himself down on the floor.

The real problem now is that he’s closer to eye-level with Tailgate and he could hardly wipe away the mess at his optic without the risk of jabbing it out.  He resisted the urge to take the easy way out and just offline the damn thing.  No, he was going to face it like a mech.  A crying, slightly deranged mech, but a mech nonetheless.

Somewhere Rung was having a fit, he just knew it.

The rapid change in emotions was getting to him and he couldn’t help but _hate_ it.  It made him feel weak.  Small.  He wanted to gouge furrows into the floor, bang his head off the wall.  Instead, he pushed his helm forward to press its side against Tailgate’s chest, careful to not knock him over.

[weaponupp]

burnt umber

burnt umber: how stable is your muse, mentally and/or emotionally?

//Where to begin.  He’s...better?  But, not 100%.  In fact it’s most likely that he’ll never be completely a-ok.  Whirl somehow finds a little comfort in that, in his mind it makes his life a little more predictable.

It’s the ‘normal’ things that usually have him on edge.  Closeness, care, feelings, all make his plating crawl.  Though Tailgate has a good chance of changing that.

He doesn’t like to talk about his past traumas.  On a good day, it would only piss him off- and Whirl doesn’t have many good days.

[tsukaretame-blog]

colorful headcanons.

[cxsmxsxne]

( send me a copic color for a headcanon )

frost blue: does your muse enjoy the snow and cold? or are they the type to enjoy summer more?

peacock blue: is your muse honest? what sorts of lies do they tell, if not?

lapis lazuli: does your muse prefer the idea of exploring the depths of the oceans, or the boundless expanses of space more?

reddish brass: how likely is your muse to step up and take the role of a leader? are they willing to take the challenge, or are they more apt to being a follower?

burnt umber: how stable is your muse, mentally and/or emotionally?

champagne: does your muse drink (alcohol)? are they a heavy drinker, if so?

tea orange: what is something that your muse is fascinated with?

malachite: has your muse ever done anything that they winded up feeling incredibly guilty for in the end?

olive: is your muse prone to feeling envious of others? if yes, what is it that they typically feel envious over?

vermillion: is your muse courageous, or would they consider themselves to be more of a coward?

coral: what is your muse's romantic and sexual orientations?

bougainvillaea: would your muse consider themselves as blunt, or do they beat around the bush instead?

currant: what's something that absolutely disgusts your muse (can be a person, place, thing, ect)?

crimson: how passionate is your muse about the things they love most?

raspberry: what food and/or drink can your muse not get enough of? do they indulge in it often, or is it something reserved for special occasions?

baby blossoms: does your muse have a favorite scent? what is it, and why?

mallow: what sorts of things might remind your muse of those close to them? any scents, objects, sounds?

aubergine: does your muse prefer the day, or are they more of a night-owl?

acacia: how much does it take for your muse to hate someone?

cadmium yellow: what subjects or topics does your muse avoid, because they bring up harmful / painful memories?

honey: when your muse loves someone (whether it be romantic, platonic, or familial love), how do they show it?

chartreuse: if you had to describe your muse with a color, what color would it be and why?

anise: when it comes to self-care, what does your muse do to take care of themselves? do they take care to spend time on it, or do they feel they don't deserve it?

new leaf: what message would your muse send to their past self, if any?

moss: how easily does your muse adapt to any new situations they're thrust into?

silk: does your muse care about appearances much? do they spend a lot of time on their own appearance, or do they just go with the flow each day?

sanguine: does your muse typically have an optimistic, pessimistic, or some middle ground outlook on life?

atoll: if your muse could go anywhere, without any restrictions whatsoever, where would they go? why would they go there?

cool grey: if your muse could ensure one thing for certain in their future to come, what would it be?

black: does your muse have a 'bucket list?' list some things your muse wants to accomplish before they die.

[weaponupp]

RPG STATS

tagged by: @sixmillionyears

Whirl LV.36 Rouge

HP ⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ MP ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ATK ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜ DEF ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ LCK ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ SPD ⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ STA ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜

tagging: @hard-edgedandduly-appointed , @distractedaerial , @six-wings , @seasprayed

[weaponupp]

sixmillionyears‌:

      Tailgate felt relief deep in his spark— relief that Whirl had accepted the affection that Tailgate was offering, and relief that Whirl wasn’t trying to push him away any longer. It’d been brief, but those few seconds had been painful to endure. Whirl understood that Tailgate cared for him, now, and that was all that he could really have asked for. That he reciprocated was almost too good to be true. 

      Whirl’s head pressed into his hands and on home, until it touched his own face. Tailgate returned the nuzzle wholeheartedly, and he pulled Whirl’s neck into an approximation of a hug. Time felt slow, and he felt warm, content in Whirl’s presence. 

      “I’m glad… I was worried for a second there.” He laughed. “… You’re gentler than I thought.”

“Yeah, yeah...”

At this point Whirl wasn’t sure what he felt.  There was happiness, sure.  But it was a weird kind of happy.  A real type of happy, not the usually semi-sadistic, self-satisfying happy he usually indulged in.  He absolutely refused to acknowledge the fear that fought to rear its ugly head.  He didn’t feel sad, regardless of the telling sensation at his optic, signs of an emotional reaction Whirl thought he had long since put down.

“...you make me cry and I’m killing everyone on this floor.”

Or at the very least go and drink up Swerve’s entire stock.

[l-viathan]

chill with ya boyfriendz

[inaccuratetmtequotes]

[weaponupp]

sixmillionyears‌:

      Tailgate’s hands stilled when Whirl flinched, but then the helicopter settled, and Tailgate brushed his fingertips down the long protrusion at the bottom of Whirl’s face. Back up again. “I don’t think you’re going to hurt me, Whirl. I can’t be a masochist.” 

      With his hands Tailgate drew Whirl’s face down, and once it was close enough he knocked the crest of his helm against its bottom edge. It wasn’t a kiss so much as it was an admission of trust. Whirl might not have appreciated a kiss, but he must appreciate vulnerability. “Do you get it, now?” 

Whirl huffed an affirmative, crowding even closer to Tailgate.  But this time it wasn’t to hurt- never to hurt, or to intimidate the little bot...

No, Whirl crowded closer with an almost wounded noise, his spark getting the better over his brain.  He understood, by god did he...  In all the millions of years since his empurata, he’d never longed for the touch of another more.

Tailgate deserved the biggest Rodimus star in the universe...

For first to receive Whirl nuzzles in known history.

[amylio-bots]

@lostlightfest Day 14: Whirl

Weapons up wallflowers it’s WHIRL O’ CLOCK!

[yeahdragon]

you know whos a good character? Whirl. Crazy mother fucker used to make clocks, he took care of a baby once, love that

[yeahdragon]

The holiday special really was a gift

[yeahdragon]

Whirl i would die for you

[weaponupp]

sixmillionyears‌:

      For a second Tailgate was sure Whirl was just going to go. In his experience Whirl had never really liked talking, or feelings, and if Whirl had no feelings for him, why should he stick around? Tailgate would keep his optics on Whirl’s for as long as it took for Whirl to respond, because for as much as Tailgate didn’t want to push Whirl into anything, he didn’t exactly want to make it easy, either.

      And then Whirl went all Nut Job again, and Tailgate found himself pushed back until he hit the wall. Whirl was in his face again, but now he was pressing, aggressing. Tailgate scrabbled at the wall with his fingers and his head sunk back behind his collar to the visor. In the back of his processor, seeping out into what parts of him were focused on Whirl’s words, Tailgate was a little afraid of this position. Still, he needed to listen. Whirl wasn’t talking about himself, he was talking about… 

      He was talking about Tailgate. He didn’t want to disappoint Tailgate. 

      If he’d let his anxiety get in the way, Tailgate would only have heard the yelling rather than the words themselves, but he could understand what Whirl was saying. Whirl didn’t think that he was good enough for Tailgate, which was— it was ridiculous! Tailgate loved spending time with Whirl, even if he was abrasive and rude and didn’t listen and didn’t want to do all of the sappy things that Tailgate liked to do! 

      He felt silly for his anxiety now. Obviously Whirl wasn’t trying to hurt him, threatening posture aside. 

      Tailgate felt silly for a lot of things. Whirl must’ve felt a little silly, too. It hurt a bit to hear that Whirl thought so little of himself, but Tailgate was sure that he could’ve guessed if he’d only thought a little harder. It relieved him to know that Whirl didn’t dislike him.

      More than that, though,  it exhausted him. How many times was he going to have to have this conversation? 

      His hands slid down and off the wall, and then rose (faster than perhaps was romantic, faster than he’d seen in the movies) to Whirl’s head. He wasn’t sure how to hold it, but his fingers found its sides and uneasily they held it. “I don’t need saving from anything, Whirl. I already know that you make me happy. Why else would I have sunk so much time into you?” For want of something to do that wasn’t just holding Whirl’s head like some kind of horse, he gave it a bit of a stroke down one side, which was also a bit horse-like, but he couldn’t help that. 

He nearly shied away from Tailgate’s touch.  He wanted to, the entire fiber of his being screamed at him to.  But, he forced himself to stay put, albeit with a noticeable flinch.

“Maybe you’re just a masochist,” Whirl offered before leaning into Tailgate’s touch as gently as he could.

If only they could have met before.  When he was kinder, when he was whole.  Maybe he would have taken Tailgate’s hands in his, brought them to his lips.

Not that there was any point in wishing.  All it did was make it hurt.  And he didn’t want to hurt Tailgate.

[weaponupp]

sixmillionyears‌:

      Tailgate’s optics darted up to Whirl’s before he quickly cast them down again. It was, despite the helicopter’s usual expressiveness, hard to tell what he was thinking in that moment, and Tailgate didn’t want to look if he was just going to meet a hard, confused gaze, like a bore through his processor. 

                                                    “I don’t know why,”

      He chanced another look up, the tone unusual from Whirl but it made Tailgate hopeful. Maybe they could talk— really talk —and maybe they could come to an understanding. But Whirl kept talking.

                                              “That’s…”

                                                                        “Not normal…”

      His frame stiffened imperceptibly, but stiffen it did nonetheless. There was something about that that he just… He didn’t know how to think about it, or feel about it, or how to respond. What was it about him that othered him this way? He was too stupid or he was too fragile, or he was abnormal. 

      Not that he imagined Whirl was capable of real, thoughtful malice that way. 

      Not that he wanted to think of Whirl so rudely, Tailgate, come on. 

      While he was stalling Whirl ducked to be at his optic-level, and the one yellow light in the pit of Whirl’s face encompassed the whole of Tailgate’s vision, and the minibot’s lines relaxed. His frame sagged and his hands lowered to his hips, and he met Whirl’s optic strangely calm. 

      “I guess I just wanted to spend time with you, and hold your hands, and listen to you talk about yourself. I wanted to know if you liked me the same way, and Cyclonus, because I think that I like you. But I guess you don’t want to like me. Which is fine, but you don’t need to rub it in my face like this… It kind of hurts, Whirl.” 

      Tailgate’s hands released each-other and the minibot let them hang at his sides. “Is that everything? I think that’s everything I have to say.”

No.  No, no, no.  No, no, no, no, NO.

Whirl had wanted to let Tailgate down gently- in his own fucked up way.  Not completely destroy him.  It took every ounce of what sanity he had left to keep from rearing back and bashing his brains out against the wall.

Though it did little to keep him from taking out his fears the only way he knew how- by getting mad.

“I want you to listen, you infuriating little shrimp.  Listen good because I’m only going to say this once.”  He shifted, moving forward to crowd Tailgate against the wall, because damnit, he wanted what he was going to say to stick.

“Right now this isn’t about what I want- nothing about my life has ever been about what I want.”  Look at my face- look at what I have done to survive, who in their right mind wants that?  “What you need is someone who will bend over backwards for you, who says nice things to you, does nice things for you...!”

Stop...stop, you’re getting hysterical.  Don’t.

“You might be worth my time, but I’m not worth yours...”

He steeled himself, he hated this, hated feelings,  “I’m not trying to hurt you.  I’m trying to save you.  From this.  From me.”

[anotherramblingfangirl]