#unhinged Orion pax

[yinandyang1]

Here Is once again another TFA au :) Context at the end.

_______________________________________

Ultra Magnus knew he shouldn't keep his old friends past life from his new one but remembering the pain and trauma of dieing especially at the hands of the former Decepticon leader, it was even worse to the fact he had a relationship with Megatron.

While Ultra is debating about telling Optimus. Megatron is wondering why the hell this tiny Autobot has the face of someone WHO HE DID NOT HACE A CRUSH ON. And Optimus is wondering what the actual frag is going on, why is Megatron nor killing him, what is happening to Ultra Magnus, also he has to deal with Sentinels shit. (His past personality may come out and Chuck a weapon at Sens head)

Context: Megazarak was killed/offlined by a mech named Orion Pax a former blackSmith and gets reincarnated.

[zephyrrhiesfyrian]

i keep forgetting tumblr exists, so i have a lot of art doodlies backed up

starscream doin a starscheme

my precious baby damus

damus has acquired face

senator shockwave cradles smol damus

god shockwave's cheek plating is so wonky

orion simps and shockwave is aro

roller watches this go down and is unimpressed

[iwozlegit]

|| 🍍• Circa. The Well (fucking ages ago)

Primus: Yes, Thirteen. You can go and live a new life of abundance and joy…your work is done.

Expectation

Thirteen: ☺️ (lives a simple life and dies happy).

REALITY

“…Who was this Megatronus, this gladiator thug, killer of criminals and criminal himself, who gave voice to a longing that Orion Pax had never known he felt?”

Primus (mid-living it up in robo paradise):

[unlikelypandahologram]

Reasons to ship every single version of MegOP

since Very Dumb Discourse™ exists about whether or not certain versions of this ship are valid, this is going to be THE most positive post about all versions of MegOP. refer back to this post for reasons to ship your favorite version of MegOP if anyone gets weird about it with you. now let us begin!!

G1: goofy '80s faction dads fighting each other in a denny's parking lot every week LET'S GOOO, that shit is fun as fuck. orion pax also totally had a celeb crush on megatron before megatron ruined that and shot him and his pals 😔 and there's a lot of angst you can add with megatron becoming galvatron and optimus coming back to life to see how much he's changed!

BW: it's the sheer fucking comedy gold factor of a newly minted college graduate and a terrorist dinosaur IMMEDIATELY singling each other out on a prehistoric rock and deciding to call their daily gang slap-fights the BEAST WARS, what iconic drama queens LMAOOOO. also, megatron made his final body in BM look like optimal optimus SPECIFICALLY to fuck with him, and that's just...incredible

UT: the fact that megatron CANONICALLY acted like a grieving widower over optimus after he died in armada is. amazing. never forget their absolutely insane obsession with each other that they can never EVER give up on played a direct part in unicron nearly ending the world <3

Bayverse: this is the one continuity of all fucking things that gave us the lore about megatron being prime's lord high protector. absolute galaxy brain writing from the tie-in comics. also these two would ABSOLUTELY have the messiest, nastiest, most brutal hate sex imaginable, and that's beautiful. <3

Animated: optimus being a rookie washout underdog and megatron being a super scary much older warlord is a really interesting and underrated fresh take on their dynamic! lots of fun to be had with exploring what their relationship would be like after megatron finally acknowledged him as his archnemesis, lol. also...age AND size difference ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Prime: do i even need to say anything, i'm pretty sure that one flashback still of orion and megatronus being friends is responsible for birthing a million shippers for this pairing alone LMAOOOO. the bitter ex-boyfriends energy was TRULY off the charts in this show, it's a damn shame megatron never appeared in RID15

Cyberverse: same bitter ex-boyfriends energy but this time with dates at maccadams. megatron also dies encouraging optimus to beat the unhinged alternate dimension megs AAHH THE ANGST

IDW1: they're both depressed gay war criminals in this one who CONSTANTLY live in each other's heads rent-free and that's amazing, lmfao. also, megatron becoming an autobot means this is one of the VERY FEW continuities where it's not nigh impossible to figure out a way to give these two a happy ending together in fanon

IDW2: space date space date SPACE DATE. they were falling together and everything. megatron also LITERALLY tells optimus to open himself to him...to give him the matrix...yeah megs my dude i'm sure that's the ONLY thing you wanted from optimus "opening" himself. toootally positive, lol

G1 Marvel: megatron was SUPER fucking pissed and weird as shit about the time optimus died over a video game. it counts

Dreamwave: their first fight had megatron urging optimus to join him AND they disappeared together in a space bridge explosion once which is like, a fanfic-esque setup for them to be alone. also i'm pretty sure this is the continuity where optimus accidentally gave megatron a lobotomy, so...uh...potential for angst is to be had

SG: mirror universe!! evil crazy villain optimus with noble goody-goody hero megatron has so much potential for absolute chaos. bonus if you also bring in the normal versions somehow through multiverse shenanigans <3

KP: the only way this version of prime can redeem himself from the creepy underage human girl bullshit is if he gets a good hard dicking from megatron. next

Prime Wars: huge "ex-husbands go on a road trip with their disgruntled daughter" energy here. megatron also LITERALLY says "oh optimus, if only you could see me now" <3

Earthspark: again...need i say why? they're pals and working together from the get-go, what's not to ship??

Skybound: optimus literally wears megatron's arm. truly beautiful <3

TF One: it's not out yet but give it time. the entire movie is going to be about orion and d-16 being madly in love and tragically breaking up, baby!!

[decepticonfetti]

Oh hello, did y’all think I’d forget to be unhinged about giant gay alien robots over here? Because you’re wrong!

Here’s the sparks of Orion Pax and D-16, throughout most of the events of the movie.

Orion Pax has a textbook standard spark.

D-16 has a condition called Partial Dichromatic Suffusion which causes the spark to have have spectral abnormalities of the Exterior Corona and Thermatosphere. It is differentiated from Total Dichromatic Suffusion, where the spectral abnormalities intrude into the Core and includes nastier side effects.

And here are the Post-Finale sparks of Optimus Prime and Megatron.

Both have suffered a scar to their spark from the traumatic events (OP’s scar is deeper due to him having technically died).

They also both have a Primal Aura - a halo of light due to being empowered by Primus. Optimus has it due to having the Matrix and Megatron has one because reasons.

Anyways, I’ll be remaking my old spark charts in the near future.

[earthstellar]

Warlord Ratchet: A Fascinating Concept 

“And to think, the Doctor of Doom’s mad quest for power continues...! His marauders pursued us to this planet’s orbit.” 

What gets me about Megatron telling Orion Pax that the current dilapidated condition of Cybertron was brought about by the Warlord Ratchet, Doctor of Doom (aside from the concept in and of itself) is that he also states that Ratchet has a legion of marauders who carry out his bidding 

and because marauders are raiders, and Megatron states they were “pursued by marauders” to Earth, the implication is that Ratchet is not on Earth himself--

-- which is smart on Megatron’s behalf, because this would deter Orion from potentially attempting to leave in order to confront Ratchet and instils a concern that perhaps marauders may appear at any time (at this point, Orion Pax does not yet realise that he is armed and is operating under the belief that he is still an Archivist and therefore not Warrior Class) 

but also, this gives us the incredible mental image of Ratchet milling around in some kind of rusted fortress made from the remains of several different Cybertronian buildings, quite possibly the remnants of Iacon -- maybe even the central hospital there, converted into a hive of terror 

still living on an otherwise uninhabited planet, with a loyal band of raiding troops who scavenge the remains of their world and possibly other planets as well (as we know these marauders supposedly have space capable vessels), quite possibly doing so in order to source spare parts and other various salvage -- Ratchet is a medic, who knows how he’s been having to piece together his army, repairing them from the remains of random citizens? 

and he supposedly, presumably either from his makeshift base in the shadows of Cybertron or from a war ship of some kind, commanded an army of raiders to chase Megatron and his followers as far away as Earth 

“I cannot imagine Ratchet capable of such horrors!” 

I can only guess at what Orion Pax was thinking in this moment, aside from his immediately stated disbelief: What drove Ratchet to such lengths? What happened to turn his compassionate, caring friend into a warlord capable of carrying out inconceivable destruction? How could such a thing occur, especially at the hands of a respected medic, someone he thought he knew so well? 

Would Orion Pax start to blame himself, for what was clearly the brutal decline of one of his greatest friends? I can imagine him starting to wonder if there was anything he could do, any signs of discontent, any indication that Ratchet was headed down a violent, dark path. 

And I’m sure he would be concerned about Ratchet himself, as well. How is Ratchet faring, nearly entirely alone on their planet save for his loyal bandits, as aged and worn as he ever has been, possibly accepting a lonely inevitable death on an already dead world? 

Or does Warlord Ratchet have yet more plans in store, his instruments of destruction poised to afflict themselves upon other worlds as well? 

The Doctor of Doom: How Could This Happen? 

It’s somewhat easy to dismiss the idea of Ratchet being this “Doctor of Doom”, because it so wildly opposes what we know of the character and what we know actually occurred with the war. 

But when you think about it for a little bit, an unhinged Ratchet would very much be a formidable opponent, especially with his social position in pre-war Cybertron giving him more immediate access to higher class/caste areas than many others would have been able to reach... 

...Perhaps this Warlord Ratchet was able to work his way into the Council’s good graces, possibly after attending to one of them after an injury and restoring them to health, gradually manipulating the Senate from the inside in order to secure more power, resources, allies, and ultimately the whole of Cybertron for himself-- Leading to a violent conflict which resulted in the destruction of their world? 

With his medical knowledge, even if he started out with a fairly small number of followers and whatever troops he could finesse away from the Council, he may very well have “built” some himself-- We do see in TFP that protoforms may be possible to manipulate into certain frame types, or some types of “cloning” may be possible. 

Any version of Ratchet without morals (or at the very least without any medical ethics) is a very dangerous Ratchet. 

Repairing the injured via patching them together with the remains of fallen comrades, creating a “zombie” army. Ghoulish, lumbering soldiers, marauders held together with armour designed for other frame types. Instructing his former colleagues (who would likely have at least started out with some inclination to follow him) to carry out “repairs” in such a way. 

Warlord Ratchet himself may have chosen to ingest dark energon much like Megatron actually did, perhaps out of a desire to create a new fuel source once Cybertron began to go dark and natural fuel sources began to dwindle. We already know that our actual Ratchet wasn’t afraid to test synthetic energon on himself, with similar motivations. 

His base of operations would quite possibly be Iacon’s medical centre, turned into a horrific hive-like structure, some wards actively still in use for repairs (at least for his own followers) and other areas dedicated to terrifying research, with supply basements full of experimental tech and defensive weaponry. 

Ratchet’s more support class (as opposed to warrior class) approach to things may well carry over to Warlord Ratchet’s approach to war-- An emphasis on intelligence ops, R&D, indirect and direct manipulation, initial political manoeuvring from within the existing system, and defensive systems to counter any munitions etc. that may come his way from opposing forces. 

His initial goals may well have genuinely been intended to improve Cybertron, to help people. Much like Megatron, back when he was Megatronus and wanted a more egalitarian, fair society. 

After working on lower class/caste bots who were nearly offlined from a lack of maintenance, poor to no access to healthcare prior to being dragged to him, etc. it may have been the catalyst for his decision to start using his upper class social contacts in an effort to change things from the inside out. 

Unfortunately, in this universe in which Warlord Ratchet rose to power, things may have derailed just as severely as they did with Megatronus and his initially well-intentioned efforts. 

The longer you think about it, the more plausible it could be. 

It would be easy for Megatron to build further upon this idea to manipulate Orion Pax, that Ratchet truly could have done this. 

I’m sure Orion Pax did not recharge well, his first night on the Nemesis. 

Where did things go wrong? What happened to his friend? How could he do this to their world, a world that Ratchet loved so much? 

--

IDK I just think “Warlord Ratchet” is an incredible idea, and I would have been totally fine if they did a whole season of TFP with the Orion Pax concept lmao 

also holy shit Ratchet in a built up fortress of a former hospital with a band of marauders under his command is such a powerful mental image 

[Screenshot: TFP Episode - Orion Pax, Part One] 

[witchofthesouls]

I have this image of Jack standing next to Arcee as June introduces her new boyfriend, the Titan (insert name here). Jack was already mortified when he learned his mom was a robo-fucker. This is a humongous mech who turns into a space ship and a city. A cybertronian sized city! The teen is floping down on the base couch having a full on nervous breakdown trying to push away all questions he realy doesn't want to think about, let alone get the answers too.

Meanwhile you have the Autobots marveling over June becomeing the first new cityspeaker since before the war. Also just the Quintessions being active is Alarming™️.

Who knows what our unhinged Titan friend is going to do when he learns human lives are so short especially if he's got a personality that's part Ratchet's and part Optimus.

Jack is having a breakdown for entirely different reasons because the Cybertronian gods did a coin toss to see if June will have Megatron and his child at Thanksgiving/Christmas holidays or if she will plan Megatron's demise. They'll either get along like dynamite in a mine, someone will end up dead, or both.

He has no idea how it will turn out, but when his mom has a Project. It's hers.

And I meant it's June that has a personality between Ratchet and Orion Pax. Like every good hospital worker with shitty administration, she's very much a person who has Malicious Compliance embedded in her bones with the addition of spite, energy drinks, and hidden contraband somewhere you wouldn't expect under a serene smile and a spine of steel.

If you are her people, then she'll mother-hen the shit out of you. She's intense and she knows that. June has gotten better over the years in that aspect, but should a friend or family need help, she's there.

20/10 will drive you to your surgery at 4 am as a designated driver, terrify your shitty apartment managers into compliance, or help plan a massive heist to take back all the money your cheating lover has stolen over the years for their side piece(s). She's built on solid alibis and documentation, documentation, and oh documentation.

She made a nest of giant pillows in the garage for Arcee, and even partitioned it out to give the femme the privacy to be rest in her root-mode when June needs to use the clicker. And Jack uncovered the plans to target Airachnid, and he has no idea how to feel about it because he can tell that his mom is heavily utilizing the medical commentary from Ratchet, the details of the 'bots' exploits that Miko manages to wheedle out, and his own experiences with 'bot-eating parasites...

The unhinged Titan has found a match, but it's not romantic. Oh no, June Darby now has a life-long project to spruce it up. And said Titan is not only over the moon that its new favorite person with similar levels of devotion, but has a lineage with a son that looks so much like her. It was once a major research facility that dealt with xenobiology. It's not above looking into ways to expand their lifespans. Anything for their favorite. Anything. Even if it must lure the resident scientists to its bosom and trap them to make use of its repository of accumulated data.

[halenhusky309]

I already watched TFone movie and i completely adore Orion pax, he has vibe of someone who runs Pirate website for sake spreading information. Lol

Quote from my sister, " Why that person(D-16) so angy?" , she not tf fan like me but she likes movies.

Oh my gosh, I loved Orion Pax so much. Such a bratty, smart-ass cutie-pie that always cared for others. And you're right. He would have stored a bunch of censor documents/information in an dark web archive and spreaded those documents/information to everyone.

And Spoiler

Sentinel should be glad that he derived Orion of T-cog to force him in the miner. Imagine this rebellious princess worked in the Archive, it would have taken OP a few cycles to figure out Sentinel's bullshit.

Also, I can understand why D-16 was so angry (besides Orion drove him insane). It all thanks to that one blue and yellow hoe. (But he did become to unhinged and insane that I can't justify him no more)

[planet-of-the-machines]

Hearing Things (Part 3)

(WDF Elite Guard Division HQ, on level 2)

N: *strapped to a diagonal restraining table* “Golden Retrievers were known for their friendly, intelligent temperament, and soft golden coat!” 

Orion: *typing down what he hears onto a tablet as a guard watches the conversation* “Interesting…” 

N: “They were also known for having gentle mouths.” *Orion looks up at him, confused and slightly weirded out* “It’s why they were usually owned by families with kids… because they wouldn’t hurt them so easily.” *nervously laughs*

Guard: “Does this really need to be archived?”

Orion: “This is the best chance we’ve got at documenting at least one of the species humanity kept as pets. This was worth the visit, I assure you. Now, N… I was wanting to ask a few other things… won’t take long.”

N: “uh-huh.” 

Orion: “How do you see your teammates?”

N: “…come again?”

Orion: “What are they to you? Colleagues?”

…

N: “A family, I guess. Sure, J may be strict… and call me terrible and worthless, but she always had my back before we were stationed here. And V, though she acts like a pet… she’s more like a little sister to me. If slightly unhinged even for a Disassembly Drone.”

Orion: “Is that why you tried killing Uzi?”

*silence falls over the room*

...

N: “She… she lived–?”

Orion: *serious* “Answer the question.” 

N: … “…yeah… yeah it is. I-I mean, she’d fit perfectly on our team, but… she shot my head off with that rifle. If she’d aimed a bit lower… I just couldn’t let her do that to V or–”

*BANG*

*The guard fired his gun at something above the conversing drones, causing Orion Pax to dive to the floor on instinct. N, wildly confused, looks at the ceiling. He finds the same tentacle from before slink up into the vent and disappear…*

*…only to find that it’s a tail. The tail of a Disassembly Drone the captive one did not recognize. The interloper’s hissing echoed down into the room, as it scuttled away*

Guard: “INTRUDER ALERT!!! IT’S IN THE VENTS!!! CODE RED!!!” *runs off to get Prowl*

…

Orion: “Mind explaining what that was?”

N: “I… have no clue.” *the red and blue Heavy Drone doesn’t look convinced* “I-I-I don’t know, I swear! I know that it looked like another Disassembler but the tail’s all different!!!”

Orion: “Would Jenson build something like that?”

N: “That’s J’s job to know! AND SHE DOESN’T TELL ME ANYTHING!!!”

*Pax leaves as N panics*

[lord-squiggletits]

Ahhhhh I really didn't imagine it, I still dislike Barber's way of writing Orion/Optimus just as much as I did on the first reading and all it took was rereading a few screencaps from one specific scene.

Literally I don't know which part annoys me more: Jetfire existing in the background solely to go "ORION PAX FUCKING SUCKS AND IS A HYPOCRITE", Orion being written like an edgy asshole who hates everyone, or Soundwave talking like an unhinged terrorist and the narrative expecting me to see Orion as the hypocrite for using violence to arrest terrorists.

Soundwave is seriously like "You have no proof we assassinated the Senate, but if we did assassinate the Senate it would've been justified, but also totally trust us bro, just because we could've hypothetically murdered the entire reigning government doesn't mean that we're violent bro come on just bc we assassinated-- I mean could have hypothetically had the means and cause to kill like a hundred people doesn't mean we were gonna kill anyone else, come on bro why are you calling us violent just bc we think some murder is okay" while Jetfire is in the background like "WOW ORION I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE WILLING TO BE VIOLENT IN RESPONSE TO OTHER PEOPLE BEING VIOLENT. YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR OWN SIDE'S FLAWS EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE LITERALLY DOING AN INVESTIGATION TO DECIDE WHETHER ONE OF YOUR COPS COMMITTED AN UNJUSTIFIED KILLING OR NOT. YOU HAVE DONE LITERALLY NOTHING TO TRY AND FIGHT THE CORRUPTION IN SOCIETY." (Jetfire had no way of knowing about OP and crew fighting the Senate's schemes in Shadowplay and Elegant Chaos, but as a reader it's very frustrating seeing Orion getting lambasted as never having done anything to fight society's corruption when he literally did, and by the time he was even working for Zeta Megatron was already evil and had the whole Senate assassinated.)

Like ughhhh oh my god I could have maybe enjoyed this story under a better writer but as it's written it's some "yet you participate in society, curious" levels of political commentary where at least one character seemingly only exists in the scene to shit on OP (something that happens a lot in Barber's works, like with Pyra Magna and Slide) and where OP is framed as a hypocritical asshole for a reaction that's very understandable given the context.

And also it's weird because Barber wants so badly for you to read Orion as some sort of hypocrite for being against terrorist activities but being willing to employ violence himself to arrest terrorists, yet... it turns out the big twist of the story is that the Decepticons WERE smuggling weapons and Soundwave DID lie to Orion (even if it was unintentionally), thus vindicating Orion's entire distrustful attitude? Like, it seems as if it was supposed to be an ACAB story showing how evil the police are for killing people and how Orion (as a cop) is evil for being a cop that uses violence on behalf of the state. Except uh. Then Barber wrote a plot where the Decepticons literally were smuggling weapons all along (and this is alongside lore from Megatron: Origin where we as the readers know for a fact the Decepticons/Starscream killed the Senate) so.... Like, it just seems to me that if Barber wanted to write an ACAB story about how the state monopoly on violence is bad, he probably shouldn't have written the Decepticons as actually being terrorists who literally did lie about smuggling weapons?

I feel like a better way to write an ACAB/anti-state-monopoly-on-violence would've been to like, explore the way that states take advantage of catastrophe/using scapegoat political movements to gather more power to themselves and justify removing citizens' rights with "it's an emergency, we're taking away your freedoms to protect everyone." Like, maybe Zeta passes some law saying that officers can search citizens without a warrant, which he justifies with the fact that Decepticon terrorism is so rampant that officers need immediate permission to conduct raids/searches. Except this is obviously a problem because people have a right to privacy, and probably the cops are super overzealous and end up arresting innocent people without cause (like idk, maybe just being friends with someone who is sympathetic to the Decepticons gets someone landed in jail? Maybe Jetfire gets arrested bc he's critical of the state and has hung out with Decepticon sympathizers before). So then Orion has an actual "are we the baddies?" moment where he wants to stop the bad people, but he realizes that his side are infringing on people's citizens and justifying police brutality for the sake of a nebulous "greater good," and that even though he and his cops were given greater power to supposedly "protect citizens," in practice they're actually doing great harm to citizens by invading their privacy, creating a surveillance state, and imprisoning people without just cause? Basically "we were given this power to stop terrorists from hurting civilians, but now we're hurting civilians too so are we actually doing any good?" Because that way Orion and his cops would ACTUALLY be in the wrong and their state monopoly on violence would be an actually widespread institutional thing where they're clearly being allowed to do bad things just because they're cops. Not just Orion investigating one singular police killing.

But with the story written as "Orion suspected the Decepticons of murdering the Senate (he's correct about this) but still investigated one of his officers to see if he committed a wrongful murder (literally him paying attention to his own side's wrongdoings, Jetfire), and it turns out the Decepticons WERE smuggling weapons and doing terrorism (Orion was correct about this)" it's just.......... like, Orion may not be morally correct, but his hunches/investigations about the suspected criminal activity were literally correct. AND HE WAS WILLING TO DO THIS INVESTIGATION IN THE FIRST PLACE. But for some reason he's still framed as if he's an asshole for this? Even though this is a point in the pre-war lore where Megatron won't back down from violence and has lost his way from his original pure intentions, so it's not like Orion can just go "let's put down our weapons and be friends and mutually trust each other to not stab each other in the back."

It just feels as if Barber's intentions to write an ACAB story where Orion is framed as being too judgmental and quick to be violent don't line up with the actual events of the story. The story is desperately trying to call Orion a hypocrite, but he really just seems as if he's reacting understandably to the events that are happening around him, so there's a real dissonance here where I don't understand why the ACAB story had the cops be right about the Decepticons committing terrorism, and I'm also supposed to see Orion as an asshole for correctly not trusting the Decepticons???

[unimooshi]

Ya know, piggybacking off the other post where I said OP would be a secret murderer, I also wanna point out the possibility that he would taunt the supernatural.

He’s Shane from the ghoul boys is what I’m saying. And Starscream is Ryan. This my HC for their personalities and I find that hilarious.

Optimus: Star, would it be ok if I said something to the darkness?

Starscream, nervous asf but willing to see what OP I gonna do: yes, but make it quick.

Optimus, alone in the dark with Starscream and dancing on a bridge: FUCK YOU GOAT MAN!

Starscream, literally about to lose his shit:

[krytus]

i absolutely HAVE to gif the top ten most unhinged megop moments

[lets-try-some-writing]

I just finished reading “Remnants of the Wild” and I simply love the Feral Orion au (and your content overall). So, what would happen after he gives up the power of the matrix to put unicron to sleep and reverts back to Orion? What if instead of going to the nemesis with Megs, the team manages to lure him back to the base? I bet he would be really unhinged

OH my goodness. I love this thought so much.

If Optimus were to revert back into being a wild Cybertronian I have no doubt in my mind that it would be complete and total chaos, especially with his more civilized frame. It took Alpha Trion nearly a vorn, a whole vorn, just to make Orion somewhat civilized. The team would stand no chance of taming him since they would have him for what, like a week or two? Maybe a month at most before they could get his memories back?

It would be a disaster.

-

Feral Orion Returns

The very first thing that would happen after the memoryless Orion wakes up should be obvious. Of course he would attack the mech pointing a blaster at his helm.

Megatron would be far too startled by the sudden feral behavior to do much of anything except swing wildly as Orion runs circles around him, biting, clawing, and doing his best to rip Megatron to pieces. By the time the team arrive to pick up their Prime, Megatron is already hightailing it through a ground bridge and Orion is prowling around scared out of his wits and highly aggressive.

The team would likely have been the next victims of Orion's fear induced aggressiveness if he didn't recognize his own spark signature all over them. He would be less hostile after feeling their familiarity but would still be on edge and refuse to approach for quite some time until energon was brought into the mix.

Orion has never been a fool, even when he was wild. He would understand some of what the team were trying to accomplish by leading him along with energon, even if their sounds mean nothing to him. But not understanding what is going on and being stuck in a frame most definitively not the one he remembers being his, Orion would go with the team after no small amount of coaxing.

They would likely have to push him through the ground bridge as generally giant glowy things in the wild tend to mean danger.

From this point onwards it would be complete and utter chaos as no bot, not even Ratchet knows how to handle a completely wild Orion Pax.

Orion's mentality

Orion would spend at least the first three days just adjusting to the team and the children.

Then once he is comfortable and comes to the conclusion that they have energon and don't intend to hurt him, he would become rather social and curious.

Bumblebee would be subject to rather unusual pampering as to Orion he is barely bigger than a sparkling.

Orion would constantly keep Bumblebee by his side and drag him back by his neck guard whenever he inevitably attempts to wander off.

He would not understand his spontaneously adopted sparkling's desire to consume his energon in such a weird and pointless way.

Why take small sips when chugging the energon is more efficient and leaves nothing behind for scavengers to steal?

Bumblebee's odd desire to mess around with the glow screen and the small not-mech-not-mechanimal creatures would baffle him, but he would allow it so long as he remains nearby.

Sparklings must be watched in order to keep them safe from predators, even if the sparkling in question is not really a sparkling anymore.

Ratchet would be a bit of an enigma for Orion as the seeming leader of the pack would allow himself to get yelled at one moment but demand respect the next.

It only threw him off more when Ratchet's first response to seeing him is to treat him like a sparkling (by his wild standards).

The medic would constantly check on him, bring him energon, teach him things as best as he could, and use his own EM field to sooth him when he started to feel upset.

Orion is not quite sure how to categorize Ratchet on the pecking order of his new pack but he tends to treat the medic with respect and does not growl or otherwise make a scene around him.

As for Arcee and Bulkhead, Orion finds them just as strange due to their constant proximity to the not-mech-not-mechanimal creatures.

He firmly believes there is something wrong with them because of how fondly they treat the odd squishy looking creatures.

No reasonable mech (in his own opinion) would ever take on such useless, obviously prey animal like creatures without there being any purpose.

He has yet to see any purpose behind their choice to take care of the not-mech-not-mechanimal things and so treats Bulkhead and Arcee as equals, if a little lower on the pecking order than him,.

This leads him to be completely alright with growling, ignoring them, and asserting his dominance through flared plating and bared fangs when necessary.

He would also find the dynamic between the pack which he found himself integrated into to be incredibly off-putting.

They don't communicate with EM fields and keep them tucked away, much to Orion's confusion and irritation.

Their body language is filled with unnecessary movement and confusing to a simple and straightforward mech like Orion who can't figure out what they are trying to say no matter how closely he watches.

Orion's Habits

Not really understanding what is going on Orion would resolve to do whatever he feels like as there is no hunting and nothing to do besides keep an optic on the sparkling he adopted.

This would lead him to harass the human children as he tries to figure out what they are.

That would end quickly the moment Arcee and Bulkhead get involved.

He would also prowl around base, searching for hiding spaces and eventually figuring out how to get into the rafters of the base, much to the combined fear of everyone present when they look up and see a huge set of piercing blue optics staring into their sparks.

He would also make a stash of energon cubes in some dark corner, never to be discovered until months after the matter and long after his memories are returned.

He would also probably try to dig a hole in the ground at some point after feeling a little too exposed, but this would also be stopped quickly after Ratchet gets involved.

Instead Orion is given a bunch of empty crates to do with as he wishes.

He would build a cave like structure and defend it like his life depended on it.

Orion would also start randomly chewing on things as in his previous frame it was necessary for him to file his fangs down occasionally.

On that same train of thought he would also leave scratch marks everywhere like some giant cat for the exact same reason but instead for his claws.

He would also have some rather spectacular moments of clumsiness as he would not be used to his infinity less wild frame.

He would probably try to climb up the walls or something only to land on his aft after realizing his pedes are flat and aren't claw like anymore.

Orion would 100% try to eat dirt when feeling peckish only to realize it has no energon and is literally just dust and gravel.

[sunset-synthetica]

Not sure where this thought came from, but I love the idea of (TFP) Orion Pax just looking like a very sweet, pleasant guy to be around, but actually being the most unhinged, tired and exhausted mf in the entire universe. Like, you look at him, and he's just this tall, lanky librarian who looks like he could not swear for the life of him, probably owns 3 cats which are all named after different kinds of cheese, and absolutely will send you into the shadow realms by accidentaly elbowing you. You talk to him for 10 minutes and it immediately becomes clear that he has zero regrets and absolutely will punch someone if they are being an asshole.

And then, in comparison, Optimus looks like he can, and will beat you up, but in reality he's just a really kind but awkward guy. The sentient version of "🙂🧍".

Crying over the idea of some time travel fuckery occuring, allowing Optimus and Orion to meet, and they both stare at each other like ".... What the fuck happened".

[dgknightblue]

The reason bottom Megatron became a thing is bc he became the pov character, there was a narrative shift to make him a working class revolutionary, he's been made more queer coded, and more feminine. There's also a greater willingness to play with gender stereotypes/ or at least those fics no longer get buried.

Meanwhile Optimus was made more violent and aggressive via bayverse to the point it shattered opinions of him. He's still treated as innocent to a fault as orion Pax though.

Now rehinge yourself a bit and carry on as normal

Fair enough, but when have I ever presented myself as not unhinged? Lol

I’m torn between continuing to have the kids call Optimus mom or call him dad like everyone else.

Like he has acted like a stern mother at least once.

TFA Optimus is a momdad

TFP Optimus is a quietdad

G1 Optimus is a dad (??? I’d have to watch to actually know which type of dad he is)

There is the fundad, the saddad, and the unhingeddad. Fun and unhinged are not the same.

Fun will let you have a knife.

Unhinged will let you have a gun.

[libermachinae]

Drops in a Bucket, Splashes on the Ground

Also available on AO3! Tags: Mature, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Gen, Whirl (Transformers), Implied/Referenced Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Whirl is Primus AU, Angst, would you believe me if i said i didnt set out to write another angst fic, whirl's just like that Wordcount: 4202 Notes: I would highly recommend you read "Bullets" or at least be familiar with Whirl's abuse of Rotorstorm before reading this fic. The scene containing graphic violence begins with "Tacticians always struggle..." and the scene referencing abuse begins "He shoves his way..." Please feel free to reach out if you need any further information.

~*~

“And I guess old Primus makes five.”

“Hah! No, no, no. That’s not Primus… you’re Primus.”

~*~

 Whirl has never been intimidated before. Not so intentionally, not by bots whose forged bodies have been piled on with armor and weaponry, no expenses spared by the ganglords. The Heavies rolled up on treads that left gouges in the streets, painful marks that tomorrow’s taxes will go to fixing, and their transformations took a full five seconds as excess plating moved out of the way while their protoforms tried to bend per their original configurations. They wear identical red visors and dark gray masks: faces, certainly, but only in the barest sense of the word, enough to separate them from lowlifes without affording them identity. It is impossible to tell one from the other and Whirl knows, intrinsically, that it will not matter.

 ~*~

 Rung is the only one who doesn’t flinch. Whirl stands over Adaptus’ body, freshly relieved of what they can all agree was a spectacularly ugly head, and puts away his gun.

“Right,” he says, with a meaningful glance out the window. “Want to agree none of us heard that?”

“Whirl!” Rodimus shouts. “You can’t just kill a god!”

The body explodes into a pile of dust.

“Sure I can,” Whirl says, shaking it off his foot even as he leans down to inspect the scrapple. “Hey Ratch, can you rig me to explode next time I get shot?”

“Is it true?” Nautica asks, doing her intellect a massive disservice by stepping in front of the unhinged bot with a blaster.

“Obviously not,” Ratchet says. “He was lying.”

Whirl nods.

“Yeah. You think I would keep it a secret from any of you if I was a god? You think Cyclonus would ever hear the end of it? Nah.” He stands, kicking pile and sending a spray of metallic dust into the air. “Awesome way to go, though, can’t say I’m not jealous.”

“That doesn’t mean you had to kill him for it.”

“So, you’re not Primus?” Nautica asks. She hasn’t moved, her arms crossed in front of her. If Whirl had been her creator (and he isn’t, he already has his claws full with a nest of scraplets), he would have been pretty proud of her right now.

“Nope!” he says. “I’ve never vouched for the universe before, but that kind of joke would take on an extra level of cruel, don’t you think?”

“Got to agree with Whirl, here,” Rodimus says, a hand on Nautica’s shoulder drawing her back. “I could buy pretty much anyone else. Maybe not Rung, but, say, Velocity? She could be Primus. Or Roller. I guess not Megatron, since we saw him come online, but—”

“The point, Rodimus,” Ratchet deadpans.

“The point is, not Whirl,” Rodimus said, sweeping his hands up to gesture at him. “I get Primus is disappointed in us. We are a textbook example of why a race of sentient war machines should never be left to their own devices, combined with a case study on how to avoid learning from every mistake you’ve ever made. But I really don’t think that disappointment would translate to actively hunting us for sport. Isn’t Primus supposed to be all about forgiveness and loving your cellmate?”

“Right,” Whirl says, clacking his pincers together in his approximation of a snap. “An angry god is so cliché.”

“I don’t think anyone knows what Primus believed,” Rung says. Oh no. He’s taken off his glasses. “I don’t see any reason he couldn’t be Whirl.”

“How about we start where the part where gods don’t exist, and Whirl does?” Ratchet suggests.

“I… I am Solomus, though.”

The whole group turns to the offending voice. Whirl goes for his gun and Rodimus knocks it out of his hand, a stern finger silently telling him not to kill any more gods. As if being an ex-Matrix bearer gives him some sort of say.

Tyrest has not stopped touching his gaudy mantelpiece, poking at the holes. It wouldn’t be so disturbing, except he’s staring at Whirl while he does it.

“Primus, don’t you remember?” he asks.

“Hey, let’s watch the fragging language.”

“Adaptus wanted to send our creations to pointless war,” Tyrest goes on. “Violence for the sake of violence, conquests built on the backs of others. We fought him.” He steps forward and reaches for Whirl. “Together, we—”

Whirl jerks back with his claws extended out.

“I will cut your hand off, I swear to—I swear.”

He is saved from any more interrogation by the ground violently rumbling underneath them.

“Okay, so regardless of whatever’s Whirl’s deal is, we do still have at least one Primus to worry about,” Rodimus says, looking out the window at the approximation of what Whirl, personally, had always assumed god would look like. “Solomus, you still got your teleporting rigged up?”

 ~*~

 No one ever considered giving The Institute a waiting room, so Whirl stands to one side of the hallway while the butchers discuss his case. He knows his proposal intrigues them: they have never had an opportunity to shadowplay a willing subject before. What is there to learn from a brain that does not fight them every step of the way? What backdoors exist that every other victim kept hidden? Whirl does not care about the potential scientific advancements his offer provides. He just wants to stop dreaming of gears, lose the phantom aches of his fingers. He wants to look in a mirror and see nothing: not himself, not a monster. Just an object, fulfilling its purpose.

The scientists who walk by him in the halls stare. Everyone stares, but the look they give him is different. They do not find him exceptional, nor do they feel for him pity or contempt. He is no marvel. He is a creation, perfectly engineered to suit its purpose, every detail minded with care to ensure it all works together as an ideal mechanism. He wishes he could see himself through their eyes.

The door beside him slides open and a bot he has never seen before steps out. His helm comes up no higher than Whirl’s waist and his large yellow optics do not look up from his datapad.

“Whirl of Polyhex, the panel has elected to reject your petition,” he says. “I am to remind—”

“What?” Whirl startles; his new head shoots upward, forcing him into an angle that is both unnatural and instinctual. “Why? Ice Pick said he could—”

“I am to remind you that you have signed a nondisclosure agreement; failure to comply will result in penalty of death.” The little bot flares his plating, the click of a motor lock setting it in place. “You will now submit to full stasis and be escorted back to your home.”

The jack comes from behind.

 ~*~

 “This is my hab suite.”

Whirl knows the tonal difference between a bullet hitting living metal and a wall. He scowls and gives up, waving Cyclonus inside.

“My room’s a mess,” he says. “Think I’m gonna crash here for a while.”

Cyclonus comes in and sits beside Whirl on the berth. When the door slides shut, they are visible only by their biolights: Whirl closed the shutters when he came in, the stars too much like blinking numbers. Cyclonus is a surprisingly quiet machine. His presence comes with none of the usual hisses and clicks one would normally get with their kind, like each component was designed specifically to work with those around it. Compared to Whirl, whose body is a wreck of pieces that almost fit together, clinking and scraping through their standard functions, he practically doesn’t exist.

“This is slagged, huh?” Whirl asks.

Cyclonus thinks on it a moment, then there is a shift of plating as he nods. Is it an admission, a confession? Pri—frag, Whirl doesn’t want to have to start thinking about that.

“Sorry,” he says.

“You don’t need to—”

“Scrap, you’re right. What am I doing?” Whirl laughs. “I’m infallible now, right? It’s all been part of my grand plan for Cybertron. I should be saying you’re welcome; you should be thanking me.”

Cyclonus sighs, a rush of air out his vents.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks.

Whirl pokes and pinches at his own plating, trying to make sense of it.

“Yeah,” he says. “Start praying, and keep Megatron far away from me.”

 ~*~

 He’s spent two days in the holding cell before he realizes no one else is coming for him.

That Orion Pax… he’s good, and Whirl’s not sure whether it’s the kind that gets people hired or gets people killed. Not that it matters, not that he cares. The Senate’s going to crush all of them one by one, like little cans of oil under a rolling tank. He thought being a tread would come with some measure of relief; instead, it just landed him in a hole.

He digs a claw tip into the wall, another score among a small collection. He has been trying to reconstruct the miner’s face, what it looked like in the split second between recognizing he had been struck and realizing there was more to come. He can’t relish a memory if he can’t keep it, and he’s already struggling well enough to accomplish the former. This assignment was supposed to be a release. Look down at the big thinker and imagine in his place Senator Proteus, Sentinel Prime, the faceless Functionist Council. Tell himself that this is what it would feel like to rip their plating open until their priceless energon spilled onto a dirty floor.

The face, though, it’s escaping him. How can he fell anything about a person with no face? What relief is there to be found in beating the slag out of a nobody? He is trying so hard to adapt, but it’s like his processor is working against him, reminding him how far he got before he was reeled back in. The silhouette of his sketch is familiar.

His claws hurt where he has worn the tip blunt, and the portrait is still incomplete.

 ~*~

 “I don’t make Matrixes,” he insists. The group was polite enough to knock once they found him, but they’re failing to pick up the hint that he wants all of them to go away, right now, and leave him alone forever.

“Well, Epistemus says you can,” Rodimus says, dentae blocked together. “Why do all the other gods have their memories back, but not you?”

“I dunno, maybe Needles can stick me and figure it out.”

It’s almost cute, the way Rewind steps protectively in front of Chromedome.

“Rodimus,” Rung says, trying to get between them, “this isn’t helping.”

“Thank you,” Whirl says. “Now can we get to the part where we storm the planet, guns a-blazin’?”

“That won’t help either.” Rung turns to look at him. “Your memories haven’t been deleted, Whirl. Somehow, there should still be some part of you that remembers creating the Matrix.”

“The Functionists probably took it out,” Whirl says.

“That’s not how mnemosurgery works.”

“Says the dropout.”

“You told me once about your earliest memory,” Rung says. Whirl should be furious that he’s doing this here, in front of people who have no business knowing what’s in his head, but he’s more interested in the way Rung has taken off his glasses and is squinting up at him. “What happened just before it?”

They did not bring Ratchet, a testament to the fact that they will not leave before he gives them answers. He could start lying again, or find another way to forgo the question, but something about Cyclonus’ presence at his back helps him settle down the compulsion. Everybody lies about their forging. Everybody wants to say it was overseen by the Prime, or that they settled into their form like resin poured into a mold, instant and perfect. Whirl has a set of seven stories he deploys on rotation, ranging from heroic to beautifully tragic, and he spends a moment picking through them, trying to remember which was the real one.

“I showed up at the Functionsts’ place to get my docs in order,” he says. “I was… I was trying to get Polyhexian citizenship.” Awful city, but he had always sworn the energon tasted better there than anywhere else.

“But you said you were forged in Polyhex,” Rung says.

“Yeah. It was easier that way.” Whirl puts a claw to his head. “I… augh, nope. No, this is stupid.”

“Whirl—”

“No, I’m done,” he says, pushing Rung away. “Fully done, Rung. That’s right. You were god’s therapist, and he fired you. I’m gonna go take out a planet.”

 ~*~

 Tacticians always struggle with where to put Whirl on a battlefield. On the one hand, he’s an attack helicopter, equipped with long-range cannons and advanced aiming modules. Keeping him in the sky is the perfect way to set up a terrible surprise for Cons on the ground. On the other, he’s Whirl, and facing him head-on can be just as chilling and or fatal.

In the end it rarely matters which call they make because, as stated before, he’s Whirl. He will do whatever he damn well feels like. Right now, that means skimming over the top of the battlefield, sights trained on the odd dot who tries to disgorge themselves from the fighting mass. He is supposed to be providing support to the ground troops, peppering the Decepticon line so they can break through, but no one is going to complain about a few more dead soldiers.

A truck breaks free and he pitches down, giving chase, machine guns firing before he’s got a lock on. The ground explodes in shrapnel as they try to serpentine out of the way, but he keeps firing and soon enough their paths cross.

He riddles them. Their roof is already a puckered, punctured mass of warped metal before their back tires blow and they go skidding and flip onto their side. Their plating shuffles, uncoordinated, as they try to transform, and Whirl goes for the underbelly, shattering the exposed protoform in a burst of pink energon. They slump with their legs disengaged. There is a buzzing, crunching noise as the dying t-cog tries to settle into either mode, then a jet of smoke erupts from the body. The engine has seized, locking it in a permanent limbo.

Whirl spins around to track down his next prey. He loves his job. The Autobots have a need, and he fills it with a gusto that only occasionally gets him in trouble. He’s no hitmech: he lacks the finesse, the style. But he can rain irreverent murder down from the sky, send Cons fleeing just long enough to make them think they had a chance, and he can do it without questioning an order. The war needs people like him.

Two soldiers are trying to escape together, one with their arm over the other’s shoulder, a sparkling stump of a leg between them. Whirl gets low, following them until the roar of his rotors is unmistakable, until they cannot help but turn and he sees their optics. Then he fires.

The wounded one falls first, knocked onto their front and grasping uselessly until their hand is blown off and they go still. The other gets their legs knocked off and goes spinning, landing on their head with a crunch. Whirl keeps advancing, keeps firing, tearing open their plating and reducing their inner working to molten slag, spattering the ground with used energon. They flop, over and over, until Whirl gets bored of the show and hauls off, leaving them almost indistinguishable from the carnage of the land itself.

Whirl hovers over the fighting and looks down while he scans for a target. This high up, visuals are useless for determining Bots from Cons. Little Cybertronians run around, whacking and shooting at each other, falling down, down, down. The metal under their pedes is slippery pink with energon. It splashes against their plating, over their insignias, until they are all just little wandering targets.

Whirl has his job, and he loves it, and he does it well.

 ~*~

 He should feel something, but his spark is a void as he tosses the rest of the guns into the shuttle, all the stuff he held off using because he wasn’t ready to get kicked off the ship. He is not coming back from this. He knows it, so better to take it all.

He’s just fastened the locker when he hears the footsteps on the hatch and looks up. It’s Tailgate, of course. Tailgate, who has a pack hanging from one shoulder and a gun holstered at his side. It’s a shrimpy thing, something Cyclonus taught him to shoot in case they ever got separated, more useful for making noise than taking down an aggressor. It has room for one round of ammo and Whirl doubts he brought a bullet more.

He comes aboard without saying anything and stops beside world, continuing to say nothing. The hand on his pack is clenching: he’s being brave. He’s also waiting for some grand speech, some sacred insight to the nature of their quest and their places in the universe. Well, tough. He should know Whirl better than Primus.

He lifts a claw to shove Tailgate backward and down the hatch, but it stops an inch before Tailgate’s plating. What does it matter? Cyclonus can’t kill him where he’s going and Tailgate himself is just a drop in the bucket. Standing there with his chest puffed out, optic band steely and focused, he looks like any other Cybertronian, never mind a few years left behind.

Whirl retracts his claw. Tailgate nods at him.

Another drop in the bucket.

 ~*~

 He shoves his way to the front row, slamming himself into his chosen seat just ahead of a little spy plane who had been angling for the same spot.

“Buzz off,” he says. Never mind the spy plane outranks him. This is his big day! He got here early so he could get this seat, right in front, though he can barely hold it as the audience fills in around him, so many Bots he does not know and who do not matter. The only one he cares about it up on the stage, smiling with an air of detached cooperation, off in his own head again like he always was. Whirl thought they had made progress on that, but some habits were just too hard to break.

The opening speech is long and predictably boring, lots of talk about this base he has never been on before. Whirl’s engine clicks in agitation. When bots give him dirty looks, he sneers.

“Chronic fanbelt lockup, ever heard of it?” he hisses at them, adding in a few extra ticks for good measure. They go back to minding their own business, but Whirl still catches the optics glancing at him, and his engine goes from annoyed click to angry hum. He knows what they see.

Luckily, the speaker eventually gets over himself and moves on.

“Rotorstorm, will you please step forward?”

Whirl is on his feet before the other copter has a chance to rise, his cheering rising well above the swell of the crowd. He shouts, he stomps his feet, and he bangs his claws together until the bots on either side of him wince, and he gets even louder when he knows Rotorstorm has noticed him.

“Go on, get up there!” he shouts. “You earned this, didn’t you?” The rest of the crowd has calmed down, but he stays standing, arms dropped to his sides. He stares at Rotorstorm as he crosses the stage, shoulders pressed back, each step placed so precisely in front of the last that it must be calculated. He waits until Rotorstorm has reached the edge to sit back down, and then still his optic is pointed, refusing to let Rotorstorm look anywhere else. Rotorstorm’s own optics are wide, though the rest of his expression is slack. His biolights are steady, his ventilations manual and even. He’s perfect.

“Rotorstorm,” the presenter says, “I hope you will forgive us; this is an honor that is long overdue. During the Simanzi Massacre, you singlehandedly scouted a pass through Mount Helix that allowed for the rapid evacuation of the 9th Battalion. Your commanding officers estimate that your decisive actions saved upwards of one thousand Autobot lives.” Whirl’s engine is silent. He’s drinking in every word. “Today, we present you with the Novic Medal for Outstanding Honor. ‘Til all are one.” Rotorstorm ducks his helm as the award is magnetized to the right of his cockpit, finally breaking his optic contact with Whirl.

“’Til all are one,” he repeats, though most of the crowd does not hear him over Whirl’s cheers.

Rotorstorm turns without looking up and returns to his seat. The next recipient is called forward and Whirl walks out.

 ~*~

 He can’t do it. He’ll blame it on the way Tailgate’s plating quietly rattles or Cyclonus’ entire personality as he starts to board, but he shuts off the shuttle’s engine and disembarks with them trailing behind. He retreats to his hab suite, and though he does not invite them he’s glad when they make it inside before the door closes.

“Nobody in the mutiny is allowed to have any of my stuff. I don’t care if Thunderclash is dying again and my innermost energon is the only compatible fuel in the galactic sector, he can’t have it.”

Tailgate nods along, his fingers in a death grip around Whirl’s pincer.

“And when you guys are talking about me later, no one call me anything but Whirl. I’m serious. I don’t know about anything I did before that, so what could it matter?” He looks up at the ceiling. “In fact, don’t tell anyone about the Primus thing. No point.”

Cyclonus is a solid, immobile presence on his other side.

“Am I forgetting anything? Oh, tell Roadbuster I’ll be waiting for him in the pit.”

“Do gods go to the Afterspark?” It’s not clear who Tailgate is asking.

“I definitely don’t plan to stick around and watch over you or whatever. Think I’ve had enough of this universe.” He chuckles, a strained sound. “Yeah. So, that’s it. Better get this show on the road, huh?”

“We’ll be with you the entire time,” Tailgate promises.

“For as long as you want us,” Cyclonus amends.

“Yeah, I know.” He shrugs, laughs again. “I’m not even really scared of the whole dying thing. I’d made peace with that. Whenever there was something I needed to do, I took care of it, so I wouldn’t have to worry about it if the right bullet finally found its mark.” He glances between them. “Now, though… you two better behave, I swear. I’m making it your Primus-sworn duty to take care of and listen to each other, okay?”

Cyclonus nods, and the way he takes it so seriously makes Whirl almost glad he’s on his way out. He couldn’t handle being looked at like that all the time, and especially it’s the way they reach across his lap and entwine their hands that really does him in. He hates them dearly.

“Okay,” he says, winding up his t-cog for the big spin. “Okay, twelve Matrixes. No problem.”

 ~*~

 Whirl times the blinking numbers to the rotations of his spark. 1,600 exactly. He’s done it.

He leans back in his chair but cannot stop staring at the little device in his hands. It is perfect. After years of researching, studying, trying, and failing, the pieces have come together to allow him to create this one perfect thing. He loves it, and a dangerous feeling of pride fills his spark, the kind that has so long been missing from his work in the Aerial Corps. If there is a Primus (and he’s still not sure, whatever the Functionists insist), this is what he built Whirl to do.

He gets up from his desk and walks across his small living space to a shelf. Nearing capacity, it has just enough room for him to push a few previous attempts aside to make room for the latest version. Surrounded by its brethren, it becomes lost almost immediately amid the sea of blinking lights, indistinguishable even from those he considers lesser. Some defects are more obvious than others: one has sat at the same time since the moment he brought it online, while another counts one klik backward for every two forward. But most are just slightly imperfect, necessary steps to get to this point, and he loves them all dearly.

He stands back. It feels like the work of a lifetime, these clocks, though he knows he took up the pursuit relatively recently. It’s just hard to remember how he filled his time before he had this project to work on, and he is again grateful he discovered it at all.

It is a gift to be able to create, he thinks, to cast a broad eye over his creations. The numbers blink at him, all out of tune, and he lets himself imagine being content doing just this for the rest of his life.