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fandomoverdrive · 4 years

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Okay I just need to go on a rant about Whirl because I love him he might just be the most tragic character in the entirety of MTMTE and considering the candidates that’s a pretty hard position to cinch. Some of this is gonna have mentions re: self harm, suicidal tendencies/ideation, overall bad coping mechanisms etc so if that’s not your cuppa please scroll on.

This gets long so here’s the obligatory read more.

Let’s write “tragic” in flickering neon letters with the fact that Whirl’s first appearance in MTMTE, dropping the titular “how to say goodbye and mean it,” is a personal soliloquy delivered as he’s in the midst of constructing his own funeral pyre. Whirl is lost, directionless, trapped and unwilling to be such in a postwar environment. But how did we get here?

Whirl is without a doubt a driven character. In the prewar functionist society, he had no qualms switching careers, risks be damned. Whether he’s always had a knack for disobeying authority or was simply driven by passion or both isn’t elaborated on, but he’s got a hell of a hardheaded streak that’s impossible to ignore. When destroying his business wasn’t enough to deter him from further rebellion, the Senate was happy to turn him into an empuratee and destroy not only the opportunity but the capability of continuing to rebel by pursuing his passion. This is what I’d personally consider the big ‘whump’ moment, less so the use and abuse as a pawn that followed but the point of trauma at which we begin to see Whirl’s psyche begin to twist.

From this point forward we see Whirl in and out of prison, let loose when he can be useful to someone else’s ploy and otherwise incarcerated for a buffet of offenses. No longer able to be constructive and having little if any control of his life, Whirl becomes aggressively destructive. In response to having everything he aspired toward ripped away from him, permanently, he builds a mental defense of bitterness and anger and paves over his black hole of self worth with a veneer of outright assholery. It’s here that he bares his metaphorical fangs and pushes - with gusto - anyone who might even suggest they’re trying to appeal to reason or get close to him as an individual.

It’s hard to imagine, given even subtly different circumstances, that Whirl would not side with the decepticons for the war. While he’s single-handedly responsible for radicalizing Megatron towards violence, the ‘con intent at the start of revolution - that movement in society should be possible and a caste system based on alt mode is unethical - aligns quite nicely with what he’d already aspired to do with his life. His conscription to the side of the autobots is just another instance in which his autonomy is cast aside.

Whirl is a tool. Whirl had a passion for watchmaking, but now he can’t, so his new passion is violence. Whirl is a gun and someone else has always told him where to point and all he’s ever been given for his cooperation is the blame of pulling the trigger. Whirl is an asshole, Whirl is unpredictable, Whirl isn’t a mech anybody would ever think twice about saving - the answer would always be no. Whirl wants to die. Whirl only wants to die on his own terms and he’ll be damned if he’s going to keel over under the orders of someone he doesn’t respect, for a cause he doesn’t believe in.

A few years of this sort of treatment would be enough to drive anyone insane, let alone the millennia of warfare he suffered through. Worse yet is the one time he found a group, a team that was known for the unorthodox and taking on the big messy challenges, the Wreckers kicked him out. Whirl was too much for the mechs that were too much and there’s no way in hell that doesn’t still sting.

That’s how we get here:

Whirl defends himself through isolation from others. He can’t be hurt by others if he never lets them close enough to be hurt by. In a hypersocial society, he has no close long-term friends, he is one of the few with no roommate aboard the Lost Light. He made himself as unpalatable as possible. He’s crass, he’s volatile, he makes it clear with every word and action that Whirl is first, you don’t mean anything, I’d leave you for dead in an instant..... But that’s not true, is it?

Whirl is shown being completely, dramatically, self-destructively caring throughout the series. Between risking his life for the scraplet colony disguised as a protoform, participating in an untested spark jumpstart to save a life, coming up with a plan to rejuvenate Tailgate’s spark, and performing a spark transplant surgery on Megatron - without whom the world would never have been even a fraction as cruel to Whirl as it had been - Whirl is far from the most selfish character in the series. It’s in his nature, however, to deny such, to the point where he more than likely believes his own narrative that he’s irredeemable, self-absorbed, invincible, degenerate, and neither capable nor deserving of close interpersonal relationships.

It’s also how we get here:

Whirl is one of the characters that we more frequently see in a state of disrepair. He fights passionately and recklessly, with no regard whatsoever to whether or not he makes it out of a scrum with all his limbs intact. Injuries like these, and those that he experiences elsewhere in the series, would put other mechs out of commission through pain alone, but as long as Whirl is conscious he doesn’t stop until the fight is over.

As depressing as it is to think that Whirl is simply at this point accustomed to extraordinary pain, it’s even moreso to think about the more likely concept that he wants to be hurt. Whirl doesn’t have control of a lot that happens to him, but do you know what he does have control of? Who he chooses to shit-talk. More often than not we see Whirl being blatantly disrespectful of his superiors, and some of the more dangerous mechs aboard the LL. While obviously his intent when insulting Ultra Magnus isn’t to start a fight, harping on Drift (and subsequently getting cold clocked) or Cyclonus is a little more self-destructive in nature.

While Whirl has been in therapy, we see during the encounter with Fort Max that he’d shared very little of what he actually considered traumatic with Rung. With no material to work with, Rung wouldn’t have been able to give Whirl instructions or advice as far as a healthy coping mechanism, and so I’m firmly of the belief that Whirl goes out of his way to get himself hurt as a way to have a vague sense of control.

On his actions and guilt:

Whirl is immensely guilty. When he’s overcharged, he admits that everything feels like his fault - and unfortunately a lot is. Whirl believes he’s the bad guy, and he’s willing to take the fall for actions that others might find immoral. There’s a lot Whirl has done that he’ll likely never forgive himself for, even if he garnered the ability to start forgiving himself for the small things, but the character he’s created for himself has been part of him for so long that it’s near impossible to tell where to draw the line between caricature and his genuine self.

At this point in time, Whirl is not capable of improving himself without external assistance.

He has accepted (however wrongfully) that he is not cared about, trusted, wanted, or respected.

His assumptions become self-fulfilling prophecy as he - consciously or not - works to perpetuate his image. Whirl is a dick, he’s unfazed by anything anyone says about him, if someone is insulting him they’re probably right, why bother arguing unless it’s with the intent to get in a fight? He doesn’t pay attention to others, he doesn’t pay attention to himself, nothing that anybody could say could possibly make a difference.

Right? Right?

Wrong. Part of what makes Whirl so heart-wrenchingly tragic is that it is so incredibly clear that nobody has ever told him he mattered. Rodimus throws out what could be interpreted as a snide remark, “even the crazy bastard makes a difference,” and that aside sticks with him. Millions of years of warfare, of being a tool to use, an expendable soldier, a rabid dog to throw at their enemies, and not once did someone turn around and say he was anything good. He’s been thanked for saving lives, for contributions, for individual acts, but his reaction to Rodimus really cements in my mind that nobody has ever said that he, that Whirl, was important.

Whirl is a broken character. He’s subsumed by his own self-hatred that he perpetuates and justifies with a mask of cruel indifference and aggressively abrasive snark. He’s alone, by what he thinks is his own choice but is really a horribly misguided attempt to keep himself safe. He’s got no potential for growth unless someone wants to force their way through his defenses in order to help him find the line between who he is and who he pretends to be in order to keep from being hurt. Whirl is terrified of abandonment, and guarantees that nobody will ever be able to leave him by never letting them come close to begin with. He’s not a good person, he’s violent and callous and has little regard for the consequences of his actions, but he is that way because of the life he was forced to lead. He falls into consistent patterns because he craves control, even if those patterns are self destructive. It’s proof of the little growth he was allowed during the course of MTMTE/LL that after their quest was over, he didn’t attempt suicide again but instead got into the revolving door of incarceration for petty offenses.

All in all, Whirl is one of the saddest characters in any media I’ve consumed and please someone get this despicable bastard helicopter a new therapist and a stiff drink

#maccadam #whirl #mtmte whirl #character analysis #transformers

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letgolovemyself · 3 years

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They say you can’t heal in the same place you became broken. That is very much true. I don’t feel pain every day when I wake up and go pee thinking this is the same place we did that and took baths together and showered when you pretended to be happy. I’m not avoiding the kitchen because I see the ghost of you coming back from runs while I was finishing dinner or you standing there telling me stories or cooking with me. I don’t have to wake up in the same place that I saw the end of us happen. That helps a lot. A whole lot. But you know what doesn’t help? The ongoing, never ending pain that I have been trying to avoid so heavily of you telling me that the last three years were some of the worst years of your life, that you “were the happiest in your life for the first two” or that “I should have known that you were trying to leave for 3″. I cannot put into words the amount of pain the things you said to me when you were finally “free of me” haunt me to this day. I cannot even say it to another person because even as I am typing it, I am pausing every couple of seconds to cry. I know I did not love you right. It is no excuse to say that you deserved it because you did not. But do you and can you even comprehend what it means to have spent almost 6 holiday seasons with someone at your side? I thought I loved others before you but I don’t think I did. I remember the way YOU talked down to me, the way you made me feel small from the very beginning. I absolutely idolized you. That probably isn’t love. You picked kids names with me literally a month before you left. You left and told Ryan and your mom how I had the worst drug problem when I literally used to get mad at you for trying to get a buzz in any way possible. I literally asked for their help and they judged me and you didn’t stand up for me... And I cannot think back to that time in Florida without having a panic attack. I cannot think of myself sitting in that hotel room knowing it was over and you not even trying to talk to me without panicking. I cannot. It literally shakes me, I am shaking when I think about how horrible I felt during that time. I tried to give you space because that’s all you asked me for, but when I did you said that I abandoned you. Then when I returned, you said you could not be happier to see me. I think of myself in that hotel room and when you barely spoke to me and when you sent me to that psych ward and then basically never spoke to me again and I cannot think about it because it physically hurts me. I shake every time I picture those sheets or the times I begged you to stay and you were emotionless. And it was not just then, but it proves to me that you are an absolute monster, an absolute monster, a narcissist. Because you pulled me in every time I felt like I was going to die, you pulled me in with a string of hope and then looked at me blank faced and told me I was the problem. The worst part is, I feel lied to, I feel cheated, I feel absolutely broken. And I have tried my best to pick up these pieces. Because I was not like this before you. I am somehow so strong yet so weak and you would give me little pieces of how much you think I’m strong yet tell me it’s all my fault. You have absolutely broken me. It means so much to me that my closest friends and my family tell me that I have grown so much, but that is because I think I don’t tell anyone how bad it is. How can I tell anyone that I am struggling to remember who I am before you broke me down by telling me I’m the bad person all the time?

I know I have not become less of a cokehead or an alcoholic, but I can say for sure that you would no longer recognize me. I will not be ashamed that I wanted you to become and always wanted you to be a person that loves me as much as I love you. To do everything I did for you for you to do for me. And I think that’s why I was so angry with and at you. I so badly wanted you to treat me the way I treated you. I know I was hurt by the fact that you did not let things go that happened 5 years ago, but I guess I didn’t either. The truth is, I deserve someone who stands up for me, that sees what they have and sees the mistreatment I was getting and said no. I’m not sure you’ll ever do that for a girl and if you do it won’t be me. I wasted 5 years waiting for you to see my worth and you never did and you were never going to. And if I loved myself and saw myself the way I do now (really only regarding you, I would have left).

I am a full blown sadist. You told me for so many years that I need therapy. But how do I say that I enjoy making myself sad? To let people treat me badly, to cause others sadness and harm? I feel like I look at pictures of us voluntarily because I love the harm that it causes me. Now I look at pictures of you and I don’t find you attractive, I just torment myself with the memories.

Not even you could tell me or convince me that every inch and fiber of my being loves you. I have slept with a number of people since we broke up, all of them fucking me up more than the last person, but somehow all of that pain is so displaced by the pain that you have caused me.

I hate that I cannot give myself credit for the ways that I have grown. Sometimes I feel so happy to listen to good music, and I have accomplished so many of my goals without you here. I’m sure you feel the same. It should not matter to me how you feel. But 2 months ago, if I texted you and you did not respond (which you have not in 6 months), I would not be able to get out of bed. I would have called all my closest friends and family. I don’t shame myself anymore. You choosing not to respond is you, not me. I genuinely thank you for leaving me because if you did not, I never would have. I never would have left you because I was always wishing you would love me the way I deserved. It really does not matter who abused who more or who did it first, because we both know who started and ended it. No one who ever loved someone tells them that the last 3/5 years were a mistake and then blames it on me. That is what hurts. Not that I always knew. Not how you left. But the fact that you said that after all I gave to you.

I don’t really care to know how free you feel without me,

who the abuser is and who is not.

I lost 40 pounds after you. Not because I tried to but because I became the person I was before you. Maybe not. I can’t eat a full meal and as pathetic as it is, I cooked that much because I gave every last inch of myself trying to prove my worth to you, but I never could.

I have not missed a day, not a day of work since we broke up. I have been hungover, drunk, coked out, no sleep, and I still go to work every single day because I am worth that much to me. I am worth eating a meal when I don’t want to. I’m worth standing up for myself and not feeling bad. I’m worth this amazing apartment in my dream location.

I cried cleaning that apartment, cleaning your mess, paying for your mess, I did that... by myself. I don’t know what’s more of a tragedy... that I lost myself in trying to get you to love me or the fact that I found a way to love me without you. The fact is, and I know this because you said it when you left, I AM the strongest person that you know, and you ARE the weakest person that I know. I know that my parents and Sam and Christian and Taylor and Smit and others have told me that they have seem TREMENDOUS growth from me, but I am the only person that woke up day after day and pushed myself. We both deserve not to say one more word to each other because what the fuck is there to say... That’s all I say to myself all the time... What is there to say? How can you look at me or hear from me and choose to respond when you cannot even fathom the pain you caused me?

I was not the greatest to you. I was so horrible time and time again and there is no excuse. There isn’t for you either. Even after all this, the saddest moment of my life was my mom saying to me, “you need to let it go, that man does not want to be with you”. I can never forget that.

And I do wish you the best. I know you will find someone that challenges you in a way you can understand and appreciate. I know you will find a girl that will comply to your low needs and barely help you grow. And she’ll make you smile, you’ll laugh with her, your family will love her.

But Brendan, you will never forget me. You could never forget me as hard as you are trying and you will try, regardless of the fact that you never loved me like I love you, you cannot forget me. We met eyes and did not stop locking eyes for almost 6 entire years. I am absolutely the best thing that ever happened to you. I tried to help you grow, I challenged you, I stood by you through every single thing. Men leave women like me because you want a woman that is easier, a woman not like me. I am toxic, I am psycho, I am scary. But the thing is, I only do that to people I know I deserve better from. I stayed for so long (like you said) because I thought you’d feel the same. Maybe you will never get it, and you won’t because you are not that smart and you are not accountable, and you are more of a narcissist than me, but a woman like me is impossible to come by, you are settling, in the same way I was willing to.

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theracingengine · 4 years

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The Undeniable Importance of Complete and Utter Self-Dissection, Self-Destruction, Recreation, Re-connection, Jo-jo Potatoes, Whiskey, and Wait, What Were We Talking About?

Hi, how are you? That’s nice. I think it’s nice, I’m making it up because I’m just trying to put some words on the screen to get this thing started. First lines are always the hardest for me, and I’m the most critical of them. I tell them they are either too fluffy, or too pretentious, and they pretty much never talk back. Unless I’m in a really bad place, then everything talks back.

I’m not in a bad place.

I’m emotionally down to the bone though, so that’s nice.

That doesn’t mean I’m in a bad place, mostly it means I’m growing. Growing sucks, right? It’s mostly not some soft and easy pleasant experience so far. It’s being eviscerated, examined, then put back together, at which time you need to figure out how to walk again. Yeah, let’s go with the medical thing, that’s a nice frame for this. This is going to go off the rails a bit. Perfect.

Patient: Alexander Ian Fuchs or Fox (Unclear. Patient only clarified with “it depends on if it will end up in the newspaper).

Full Examination of Patient, Beginning With Feet:

Patient claims feet are restless, causing an inability to sit down for more than a few seconds. Upon closer inspection, feet seem to move on their own, drifting away from all emotions that may be trying to creep up on patient. Very prevalent at work, where he is incredibly unsatisfied, underpaid, slightly (more than slightly) shameful, and is mostly a place that is “safe” in theory but likely causing massive mental harm. Feet are trying constantly to leave this work environment, but patient has instead stood for hours and wandered aimlessly in a lonely basement, battling the feet for eight years, causing massive need-to-get-the-fuck-out swelling in the legs, culminating in a recent bought with torn pants. Patients “junk” was visible for a moment.

We will be administering a strict regime of “Work on your resume,” “apply for jobs,” and “your partner will help, this is what she does for work.” We expect a full recovery, with the possibility of pride, and a sense of purpose beyond survival.

Examination of the Arms:

Patient has been working out a lot. Good job patient. A mix of needing a place to pour excess energy, a desire to feel strong, the awe of how the body can be shaped, some insecurity, but also personal enjoyment of “feeling sexy” in a way men are rarely allowed to feel, has kept patient in the gym. When questioned about “feeling sexy,” patient turned red out of complete embarrassment, and began stuttering out a response, something along the lines of “hey, well, it’s, listen. Guys can, we can, it’s okay, we can, I can feel that too, or something.” Patient may be speaking to the idea that men may be able to feel ties to sexuality beyond what is usually considered some primal need to fuck everyone and everything.

When asked about the concept of insecurity, patient laughed, examiner laughed, someone down the hall also laughed, because no shit.

When asked about strength, patient was fairly clear. Old injuries had been causing him pain, this aided in their relief. Somewhat recent verbal altercations had also left patient with a desire to have some strength and “feel strong.”

Just before examiner moved on, patient also quietly explained that if he were to put his arms around his long term partner, or anyone else who may want/need it, he wanted to make sure they knew “he would hold them as tight and close as they needed.” Patient seemed to wait a moment for examiners reaction to that, possibly expecting to be derided. Examiner didn’t have much to say about it really.

Examination of the Torso:

Patient had complained of feeling that just below his sternum was collapsing in on itself, causing his entire body to constrict, like a tiny black hole had opened up, sucking in everything, or trying to anyway. Patient indeed did look shorter, his back arched slightly, his pounding heartbeat clearly visible, working against whatever was inside chest cavity.

Patient reported that drugs, alcohol, video games, screaming into car dashboard, books, extra exercising, and weird dances, all had little to no effect. But were fun.

Upon closer inspection, examiner found that what patient to believe was a void, was in fact a storage container for every emotional built up and unexpressed over the course of three decades, as well as normal emotional growth for a healthy person, which is incredibly hard to go through, because life and love and emotions and desires are painful at times and a lot to go through but we all have to.

Patient asked examiner asked if chest storage container could be lanced, and examiner informed patient that “no, you kinda have to go through this shit, or fall apart and destroy everything around you.” Patient understood, already knowing that would be the answer. Examiner did notice that for a moment patient was going to subconsciously attempt to place all emotional baggage and troubles on other objects and people, all in unhealthy and destructive ways, expecting those people especially, to fulfill those needs that can’t actually be fixed by anyone else. This moment passed and patient thought better of it. We believe a previous therapy session was to thank for this.

In attempting an on the spot cure, patients long term partner was brought into examination room. Unprompted, she began to explain the concept of sadness to patient. Patient had previously expressed being “bummed,” or “disappointed,” or feeling “rage, anger, fury, or guilt.” Patient had a good handle on downside emotions that men are allowed to feel openly, yet sadness itself was elusive, as needed to function in an early 90s society of which patient was raised. Patient’s partner then held patient, and left emotional room for patient to express said sadness, which erupted from patient’s chest storage container in heaving sobs. Patient was then measured for height, having gained a full foot as chest storage container ceased it’s constriction.

Examination of Genitals:

Patient insisted, examiner repeated it was unnecessary.

Examination of Head:

Patient was moved to a local warehouse facility in order to leave room for the opening of the patients skull. A full medical team, as well as three containment crews were placed outside as a safeguard. Lockdown protocols were explained, and re-explained. All this, as it turned out, was completely necessary.

Having worked hard for two years, the interior of the patients skull were in fact completely normal. A proper mix of joy, and sadness, and rage, and lust, and loss, and confusion, and grief and strength were all present. Examiner was able to document:

Gratitude and anger at all the changes and good things.

Grief: for this father, who is alive, but most likely will pass unhappy. Grief: for a lot of things really, patient never got to grieve at things that are still around.

Sadness. The effects of learning to be sad, still prevalent. Patient reported how good it felt to be cleanly sad. How amazing feelings were all around. How scary they were, and then how scary they weren’t. How he could see everything as so much more beautiful when he realized how momentary, fleeting, and perfect it all was.

The need to be needed and desired. This area seemed to be in flux, like a bar about to go out of business. Patient seemed to act in ways that would force others to need patient, but completely remove the ability for others to grow. Patient seems to have begun abandoning this idea. Wanting to be desire still there, as this is a basic human function.

Humor. Something funny happened here, but examiner didn’t want to force the joke.

Lust and sexuality. Both can exist, neither need to be shameful, no matter what every 90s sitcom tried to tell us. You can have needs, desires, wants, the libido of a teenager and not be some deviant for saying it.

Awe, that today, patient openly and easily cried in front of therapist. She explained to patient he was just ready, and patient was, ever after two years. Patient also expressed to therapist that he wanted to be more “honest,” meaning with emotions, and those he loved, and just in the world. Therapist explained that he wasn’t dishonest, the he “just wasn’t ready.” She explained that he was a good man. Patient can believe it now.

Love.

Fear. Patient is afraid of the things he needs to do. Excited to do some of them, dreading doing others. Work, art, connection, exploration, openness, feelings, all falling into fear. Though these also all fall into love.

Examiners found a very messy deposit of expectation. It would seem patient isn’t sure of what expectations he has of life and others. Signs that this area used to be home of “demands” exists. Examiner believes this has given way to some healthy boundaries and expectations of the world around patient. Some delusions still persist.

The ability for patient to trust gut. This seems to exist in some quantum state, flitting in and out of existence. As patient trusts gut, he is able to see all the things he should be to protect himself, and to love others, while staving off projection. Patient seems to be able to tell when he’s being manipulated, even if it isn’t malicious, and in a way loving. Patient can also tell when he’s being secretly or openly loved. Sometimes this function is completely non-existent and blind anxiety takes over, leading to patient nodding head and feeling horrible.

A desire to actually show the cracks. Not to everyone, because not everyone needs to give a damn, but to those who have earned or need it.

Gratitude. It would seem there are two chambers for this.

Examiners were able to find more, and expect to right follow up reports and post them on a blog or social media in massive tangents, because it brings patient some sort of catharsis, a hope of being seen, and a hope that someone else feels seen too.

All in all patient is healthy. Patient isn’t always happy, isn’t always sad. Patient is full of strength, and masculine, and full of a roar, but patient is also soft, and quiet, which are strong too. Patient is learning. Patient continues, and will continue. Patient will be a better man for himself, and his partner. He will understand himself even more, which will make it easier to love others. To connect with others, truly. Patient will make a lot of mistakes, and fail beautifully. Patient will live.

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