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ajremixA fic that I've been figuring out how to write for the past month or so. I think I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out. Title from Seal's "The Weight of My Mistakes".
Title: The Weight of My Mistakes (Depends on How I Feel)
Fandom: Transformers IDW
Rating: PG
Warning: mind violation/memory manipulation and the taking advantage of
Word Count: 1713
Characters: Blast Off, Onslaught, mentions of others
Summary: Minor spoilers for TAAO 11, Blast Off deals with the result of his choice.
"Our magnetism I can't resist
I hate myself when I get like this
The monster's in me and burns to kiss right now"
-"My Mistake", Cherry Poppin' Daddies
Blast Off had his suspicions as the cycles between Onslaught onlining and the next grew. At first he thought it was Starscream's hilarious idea of giving them some time alone- Blast Off was trying very hard not to think about Onslaught's hand in his -but realized it was to help fill in the gaps between Onslaught's memory and the implanted ones. The mnemosurgeon- Airachnid -had prepped him on what to expect and do before waking Onslaught. She may have done a seamless job implanting the memories and Onslaught's own subconscious would find justifications for his actions in them, but she didn't know him. Not really. Not the way Blast Off did.
It didn't take much prompting for Onslaught to buy the lies and, as he watch Onslaught do the same for Vortex and Brawl- who woke within kliks of each other -Blast Off realized he was the only one that could have done this. If it had been either of the other two, it would only be a matter of time before Onslaught trusted his own instincts over them. But so long as Blast Off didn't trip up, there would be no such problem because Onslaught trusted him implicitly.
Onslaught trusted him.
Blast Off snuck out while the other three were busy, his tank churning nauseatingly as the full realization of what, exactly, he'd done hit him. Onslaught didn't trust easily. Vortex and Brawl were dependable but not trustworthy, they'd do what they were told- in spirit if not the letter -but otherwise required watching. He didn't have to with Blast Off because he never doubted Blast Off's loyalty to him. And though an argument could be made that he was looking out for Onslaught's best interest in the long run, it still required Blast Off's willing compliance in manipulating Onslaught' mind and taking advantage of that trust.
Given how hyper-focused he'd gotten over Swindle, someone Onslaught sometimes barely tolerated if not for his usefulness, Blast Off was afraid to find out how Onslaught would react to the betrayal of the one mech he trusted.
Blast Off gripped his hand, pressing his thumb into the palm and he didn't know if he was trying to will away the memory of Onslaught's hand as a warm, comforting weight or recreate it.
It didn't take much longer for the Combaticons to be let out. Airachnid said some doctorly sounding questions and advice and an unconvinced Ironhide stopped by long enough to remind them he'd be questioning them later until Starscream tutted him away like some overprotective caretaker. Then Starscream whisked the four of them off to a tower apartment by his- made sense, they were his security detail now. Starscream led them in with a flourish, like some realtor, telling them that, asides from hiring someone to dust every now and again, it was just as the Combaticons left it before starting their 'undercover work'.
It was unnerving having memories of a place Blast Off knew he'd never seen before- arguing over who got what room, movie nights, yelling at Brawl to turn down his music, any memory with Swindle in them. But even more unnerving was how thorough Starscream's crew had been. There was a dent in the wall where a chase that had started when Brawl swiped one of Vortex's blades cacophonously ended, a stain on the couch when Onslaught had stubbornly refused to ask for help while carrying too many engex containers, even a half-built model of a station Blast Off- in reality -had been wishing he could buy laying abandoned on a table. The apartment itself took up half the floor, having originally been several apartments with select walls removed to make it a shared living space. It was easily five times bigger than their rundown compartment in the Rust Corridor and Blast Off couldn't help the surge of relief knowing he didn't have to navigate over legs if he felt like crossing the room anymore.
Brawl threw himself down on the couch and brought up a channel on the view screen with his favorite program on it, like he'd done it a thousand times before. Vortex went to check on the various weapons he'd stashed in hiding places around the apartment. Blast Off had planned to sidle over and eavesdrop on the conversation Starscream had pulled Onslaught to the side for but found himself watching how the other two fell thoughtlessly into routine with horror and fascination. Airachnid, Blast Off decided, was the most terrifying 'bot he'd ever known.
Once satisfied all his weapons were accounted for, Vortex returned to the main room and proceeded to fight with Brawl over what to watch despite the fact all of them had screens in their own rooms. It was so mundane and familiar while logically not that Blast Off couldn't help but watch. After a moment he realized he no longer heard the murmured conversation and turned to find that Starscream had left and Onslaught was standing there, watching him quietly. Blast Off tried to ignore the flush in his internals and asked steadily, "Boss?"
"C'mon." Onslaught tossed his head towards his room before heading his way toward it. "Never did get to debrief that last mission before we went into stasis."
Two sets of memories came up automatically, easily distinguishable from 'real' and 'implanted', thankfully, but disconcerting all the same. Blast Off followed, taking a moment to peer into his own room as they passed by. He wasn't certain what he was expecting- he had the fake memories of it so there was nothing surprising. At the same time it was also unlike any room he'd had before and that, somehow, was a relief.
When he got to Onslaught's room, Blast Off froze in the threshold. Onslaught's room was the one from his fantasies. The ones he ran through his head so often he knew what the sun felt like through the window, the sounds that could be heard at any point in the day. The room was small, the only things worthwhile the view and the double berth. Vortex and Swindle had tried to argue for it, saying it would be wasted on a mech like Onslaught who rarely felt the need to frag and never brought anyone home. Brawl joined in when Onslaught claimed it suited his larger frame better, causing Onslaught to eventually claim it as a privilege of rank.
Only none of that happened. It was a room that Blast Off had conjured up for himself and that Starscream had intruded on. Even the shelving in the corner with the photo- of all the Combaticons rather than just Blast Off and Onslaught -the books down to their titles, a kitschy souvenir spire from Crystal City and even- Blast Off's engine hitch quietly, because that had been his mark in that fantasy room -a space shuttle. He couldn't help himself, reaching out to brush his fingertips over it. The exact same model...
"Have you never noticed that before?" Onslaught asked.
"It's a model of Bow Shock." Blast Off said quietly. "He was the first Cybertronian to travel to the edge of the galaxy. He was my hero." Back before the war, when mechs like Blast Off still had heroes. "Why do you...?"
"It must have been left by the original tenant, I found it in the back of the topmost shelf in the closet. I kept it because it made me think of you."
Blast Off's spark fluttered and he tried to stamp down on the feeling. "Because all shuttles look the same to you?" He joked weakly.
Suddenly Onslaught was right next to him, so close their plating brushed together. "More because I want to keep you close," he rumbled and there was no way he couldn't feel the surge of want in Blast Off's energy field.
For all that he fantasized Onslaught as seductive and sensual, Blast Off hadn't actually expected him to be. He'd always been so focused on planning, on the war and the fact he could casually throw out a line like that while sounding like that was completely unfair.
Blast Off reached down and pressed his thumb into his palm again, hard enough it almost hurt.
Onslaught cocked his head, the light in his visor softening. "Are you alright? You've been quiet today."
Blast Off made an attempt to come up with an excuse but couldn't even get his vocalizer to click. It would be so easy to fall into this. To push Onslaught down and see if they fit into the berth and each other as perfectly as he always imagined. But the thought made Blast Off's tank roil. He couldn't do this. He couldn't pretend that this was okay, that he hadn't betrayed the one he loved more than anything in the universe.
"It's been difficult for you, hasn't it? You had to go through a lot in that plan and didn't have any time to recoup before we shut down." Slowly, either because he didn't want to frighten Blast Off or because he was nervous, Onslaught slid his fingers along Blast Off's hand. Not quite taking it but he could if one of them turned their hands just so. "Sometimes I think I ask too much of you."
And that. That vulnerability he'd only ever shown Blast Off- that was the Onslaught that had taken Blast Off from infatuation to love. The one who cared and worried, who tried to keep the group pacified if not content. The one that made Blast Off want to be worthy of his attention, that made him want to do everything in his power to help Onslaught reach his goals and make him proud.
"There isn't a lot I wouldn't do for you." Just like before, Blast Off curled his finger around Onslaught's hand. He didn't know why he thought he could do this, that he'd ever be strong enough to say no to Onslaught. His mind was screaming at him, his morality was screaming at him- this was wrong, this was a violation of Onslaught's trust and will. But when he looked up to see a soft, almost amazed glow in Onslaught's visor, Blast Off couldn't bring himself to care.
If he hadn't thought himself a monster before, he certainly was now.
Title: The Weight of My Mistakes (Depends on How I Feel)
Fandom: Transformers IDW
Rating: PG
Warning: mind violation/memory manipulation and the taking advantage of
Word Count: 1713
Characters: Blast Off, Onslaught, mentions of others
Summary: Minor spoilers for TAAO 11, Blast Off deals with the result of his choice.
"Our magnetism I can't resist
I hate myself when I get like this
The monster's in me and burns to kiss right now"
-"My Mistake", Cherry Poppin' Daddies
Blast Off had his suspicions as the cycles between Onslaught onlining and the next grew. At first he thought it was Starscream's hilarious idea of giving them some time alone- Blast Off was trying very hard not to think about Onslaught's hand in his -but realized it was to help fill in the gaps between Onslaught's memory and the implanted ones. The mnemosurgeon- Airachnid -had prepped him on what to expect and do before waking Onslaught. She may have done a seamless job implanting the memories and Onslaught's own subconscious would find justifications for his actions in them, but she didn't know him. Not really. Not the way Blast Off did.
It didn't take much prompting for Onslaught to buy the lies and, as he watch Onslaught do the same for Vortex and Brawl- who woke within kliks of each other -Blast Off realized he was the only one that could have done this. If it had been either of the other two, it would only be a matter of time before Onslaught trusted his own instincts over them. But so long as Blast Off didn't trip up, there would be no such problem because Onslaught trusted him implicitly.
Onslaught trusted him.
Blast Off snuck out while the other three were busy, his tank churning nauseatingly as the full realization of what, exactly, he'd done hit him. Onslaught didn't trust easily. Vortex and Brawl were dependable but not trustworthy, they'd do what they were told- in spirit if not the letter -but otherwise required watching. He didn't have to with Blast Off because he never doubted Blast Off's loyalty to him. And though an argument could be made that he was looking out for Onslaught's best interest in the long run, it still required Blast Off's willing compliance in manipulating Onslaught' mind and taking advantage of that trust.
Given how hyper-focused he'd gotten over Swindle, someone Onslaught sometimes barely tolerated if not for his usefulness, Blast Off was afraid to find out how Onslaught would react to the betrayal of the one mech he trusted.
Blast Off gripped his hand, pressing his thumb into the palm and he didn't know if he was trying to will away the memory of Onslaught's hand as a warm, comforting weight or recreate it.
It didn't take much longer for the Combaticons to be let out. Airachnid said some doctorly sounding questions and advice and an unconvinced Ironhide stopped by long enough to remind them he'd be questioning them later until Starscream tutted him away like some overprotective caretaker. Then Starscream whisked the four of them off to a tower apartment by his- made sense, they were his security detail now. Starscream led them in with a flourish, like some realtor, telling them that, asides from hiring someone to dust every now and again, it was just as the Combaticons left it before starting their 'undercover work'.
It was unnerving having memories of a place Blast Off knew he'd never seen before- arguing over who got what room, movie nights, yelling at Brawl to turn down his music, any memory with Swindle in them. But even more unnerving was how thorough Starscream's crew had been. There was a dent in the wall where a chase that had started when Brawl swiped one of Vortex's blades cacophonously ended, a stain on the couch when Onslaught had stubbornly refused to ask for help while carrying too many engex containers, even a half-built model of a station Blast Off- in reality -had been wishing he could buy laying abandoned on a table. The apartment itself took up half the floor, having originally been several apartments with select walls removed to make it a shared living space. It was easily five times bigger than their rundown compartment in the Rust Corridor and Blast Off couldn't help the surge of relief knowing he didn't have to navigate over legs if he felt like crossing the room anymore.
Brawl threw himself down on the couch and brought up a channel on the view screen with his favorite program on it, like he'd done it a thousand times before. Vortex went to check on the various weapons he'd stashed in hiding places around the apartment. Blast Off had planned to sidle over and eavesdrop on the conversation Starscream had pulled Onslaught to the side for but found himself watching how the other two fell thoughtlessly into routine with horror and fascination. Airachnid, Blast Off decided, was the most terrifying 'bot he'd ever known.
Once satisfied all his weapons were accounted for, Vortex returned to the main room and proceeded to fight with Brawl over what to watch despite the fact all of them had screens in their own rooms. It was so mundane and familiar while logically not that Blast Off couldn't help but watch. After a moment he realized he no longer heard the murmured conversation and turned to find that Starscream had left and Onslaught was standing there, watching him quietly. Blast Off tried to ignore the flush in his internals and asked steadily, "Boss?"
"C'mon." Onslaught tossed his head towards his room before heading his way toward it. "Never did get to debrief that last mission before we went into stasis."
Two sets of memories came up automatically, easily distinguishable from 'real' and 'implanted', thankfully, but disconcerting all the same. Blast Off followed, taking a moment to peer into his own room as they passed by. He wasn't certain what he was expecting- he had the fake memories of it so there was nothing surprising. At the same time it was also unlike any room he'd had before and that, somehow, was a relief.
When he got to Onslaught's room, Blast Off froze in the threshold. Onslaught's room was the one from his fantasies. The ones he ran through his head so often he knew what the sun felt like through the window, the sounds that could be heard at any point in the day. The room was small, the only things worthwhile the view and the double berth. Vortex and Swindle had tried to argue for it, saying it would be wasted on a mech like Onslaught who rarely felt the need to frag and never brought anyone home. Brawl joined in when Onslaught claimed it suited his larger frame better, causing Onslaught to eventually claim it as a privilege of rank.
Only none of that happened. It was a room that Blast Off had conjured up for himself and that Starscream had intruded on. Even the shelving in the corner with the photo- of all the Combaticons rather than just Blast Off and Onslaught -the books down to their titles, a kitschy souvenir spire from Crystal City and even- Blast Off's engine hitch quietly, because that had been his mark in that fantasy room -a space shuttle. He couldn't help himself, reaching out to brush his fingertips over it. The exact same model...
"Have you never noticed that before?" Onslaught asked.
"It's a model of Bow Shock." Blast Off said quietly. "He was the first Cybertronian to travel to the edge of the galaxy. He was my hero." Back before the war, when mechs like Blast Off still had heroes. "Why do you...?"
"It must have been left by the original tenant, I found it in the back of the topmost shelf in the closet. I kept it because it made me think of you."
Blast Off's spark fluttered and he tried to stamp down on the feeling. "Because all shuttles look the same to you?" He joked weakly.
Suddenly Onslaught was right next to him, so close their plating brushed together. "More because I want to keep you close," he rumbled and there was no way he couldn't feel the surge of want in Blast Off's energy field.
For all that he fantasized Onslaught as seductive and sensual, Blast Off hadn't actually expected him to be. He'd always been so focused on planning, on the war and the fact he could casually throw out a line like that while sounding like that was completely unfair.
Blast Off reached down and pressed his thumb into his palm again, hard enough it almost hurt.
Onslaught cocked his head, the light in his visor softening. "Are you alright? You've been quiet today."
Blast Off made an attempt to come up with an excuse but couldn't even get his vocalizer to click. It would be so easy to fall into this. To push Onslaught down and see if they fit into the berth and each other as perfectly as he always imagined. But the thought made Blast Off's tank roil. He couldn't do this. He couldn't pretend that this was okay, that he hadn't betrayed the one he loved more than anything in the universe.
"It's been difficult for you, hasn't it? You had to go through a lot in that plan and didn't have any time to recoup before we shut down." Slowly, either because he didn't want to frighten Blast Off or because he was nervous, Onslaught slid his fingers along Blast Off's hand. Not quite taking it but he could if one of them turned their hands just so. "Sometimes I think I ask too much of you."
And that. That vulnerability he'd only ever shown Blast Off- that was the Onslaught that had taken Blast Off from infatuation to love. The one who cared and worried, who tried to keep the group pacified if not content. The one that made Blast Off want to be worthy of his attention, that made him want to do everything in his power to help Onslaught reach his goals and make him proud.
"There isn't a lot I wouldn't do for you." Just like before, Blast Off curled his finger around Onslaught's hand. He didn't know why he thought he could do this, that he'd ever be strong enough to say no to Onslaught. His mind was screaming at him, his morality was screaming at him- this was wrong, this was a violation of Onslaught's trust and will. But when he looked up to see a soft, almost amazed glow in Onslaught's visor, Blast Off couldn't bring himself to care.
If he hadn't thought himself a monster before, he certainly was now.
