raisedbymoogles (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raisedbymoogles) wrote2011-03-18 12:18 am
raisedbymoogles) wrote2011-03-18 12:18 am
Entry tags:
Giftfic for (ij)deepbluesquee.
Title: -untitled, is too late for braining-
Rating: G
Fandom: Transformers G1/Chronicles of Narnia
Characters: Rodimus, Aslan, Daniel
Summary: Sometimes Roddy needs a kick in the pants. Sometimes it comes from mythical godlike beings from another world.
The Lion lounged indolently over Rodimus's knees, tail flicking lazily at imaginary flies, for all the world like a content housecat - albeit an Autobot-sized housecat, and one that, Rodimus was pretty sure, could dismantle him with very little trouble. He concentrated on staying still and keeping his hands to himself, thinking with some crooked humor that having Aslan use him as a sunning-perch was quite honor enough for him, thank you.
One of Aslan's eyes opened, just a slit. "You have permission," he said, his voice more felt in a rumble through Rodimus's plating than heard.
"Huh?"
"To scratch between my ears. You may."
"...Oh." Setting aside stupid questions like how did he know I was thinking that, Rodimus settled his fingertips in Aslan's impressive mane and scratched gently. Aslan rumbled again, but this time it was wordless, a bass vibration that went right to Rodimus's spark. Rodimus found himself starting to smile, and turned his head to one side to work on hiding it. "This is a beautiful world," he murmured, half to himself.
"Yes." Aslan's voice was rich with love and pride. "But so is yours," he added, lifting his head to pierce Rodimus in his gaze, and it never crossed Rodimus's processor to question how Aslan knew that. "Though wounded, it is beautiful - and you are a large component of that."
"Real large," Rodimus joked, indicating his reformatted body, and winced at the warning prickle of claws. "I know that," he admitted more seriously. "I love Cybertron. You know I do. I try to help it heal, any way I can think of... Is there anything more I should be doing?" he asked anxiously.
Aslan's muzzle twitched in a hint of a leonine smile. "You should ask your patron that question."
"Primus..." For once, the word didn't leave Rodimus's vocalizer as a common oath. "So he does exist?" Aslan gave him a flat look and Rodimus pulled back defensively. "It was the Matrix that showed me - we were created by the Quintessons, not Primus at all! And where's he been all this time, anyway? Didn't he notice we were fighting and starving and suffering? How do I even know he gives a damn?"
The next minute he was flat on his back, Aslan's hot breath on his neck. The claws remained sheathed - for now - but that did nothing to soothe Rodimus's wildly fluttering spark. He remained still, a fine tremble starting up in his body to resonate with Aslan's voice. "Say what you mean to say, Rodimus Prime," Aslan ordered.
"Did he even notice when Optimus died?" Rodimus's vocalizer obeyed on its own. He shuttered his optics, and shook quietly when Aslan lowered his head to rub against his prematurely-aged cheek.
"He did," Aslan answered in as close to a whisper as he ever came, and underneath it Rodimus could hear sorrow too deep to fathom - the sorrow of knowing every soul who perished under his banner, and having eternity to mourn them.
Unbidden and unasked, Rodimus's hand buried itself in Aslan's mane again. "Being a god has to suck," he heard himself say, and winced in anticipation.
But Aslan's answer was favorable: a lick to his cheek with a rough tongue and a loud purr. "You are kind to offer compassion to me." He stretched out on Rodimus's broad chest, shamelessly enjoying the Autobot's attentions, playing the relaxed housecat again.
"You're saying I should try to offer that same compassion to Primus, when I get home," Rodimus answered wryly.
"It would ease your patron's burden."
Rodimus sighed ruefully. "Well, I can't not try now. You're good at this." He propped his head up by his arm and sighed again. "But - uh - we don't have to leave right away, do we? Danny's having so much fun..."
"Daniel," Aslan told him with just a hint of sternness, "has his own path to walk." He turned his head, though, to where Daniel was chasing around with a good-humored Stag and a few dryads, his brown, coltish legs flashing in the sun. His eyes softened. "But, no," he allowed. "Not right away."
Rating: G
Fandom: Transformers G1/Chronicles of Narnia
Characters: Rodimus, Aslan, Daniel
Summary: Sometimes Roddy needs a kick in the pants. Sometimes it comes from mythical godlike beings from another world.
The Lion lounged indolently over Rodimus's knees, tail flicking lazily at imaginary flies, for all the world like a content housecat - albeit an Autobot-sized housecat, and one that, Rodimus was pretty sure, could dismantle him with very little trouble. He concentrated on staying still and keeping his hands to himself, thinking with some crooked humor that having Aslan use him as a sunning-perch was quite honor enough for him, thank you.
One of Aslan's eyes opened, just a slit. "You have permission," he said, his voice more felt in a rumble through Rodimus's plating than heard.
"Huh?"
"To scratch between my ears. You may."
"...Oh." Setting aside stupid questions like how did he know I was thinking that, Rodimus settled his fingertips in Aslan's impressive mane and scratched gently. Aslan rumbled again, but this time it was wordless, a bass vibration that went right to Rodimus's spark. Rodimus found himself starting to smile, and turned his head to one side to work on hiding it. "This is a beautiful world," he murmured, half to himself.
"Yes." Aslan's voice was rich with love and pride. "But so is yours," he added, lifting his head to pierce Rodimus in his gaze, and it never crossed Rodimus's processor to question how Aslan knew that. "Though wounded, it is beautiful - and you are a large component of that."
"Real large," Rodimus joked, indicating his reformatted body, and winced at the warning prickle of claws. "I know that," he admitted more seriously. "I love Cybertron. You know I do. I try to help it heal, any way I can think of... Is there anything more I should be doing?" he asked anxiously.
Aslan's muzzle twitched in a hint of a leonine smile. "You should ask your patron that question."
"Primus..." For once, the word didn't leave Rodimus's vocalizer as a common oath. "So he does exist?" Aslan gave him a flat look and Rodimus pulled back defensively. "It was the Matrix that showed me - we were created by the Quintessons, not Primus at all! And where's he been all this time, anyway? Didn't he notice we were fighting and starving and suffering? How do I even know he gives a damn?"
The next minute he was flat on his back, Aslan's hot breath on his neck. The claws remained sheathed - for now - but that did nothing to soothe Rodimus's wildly fluttering spark. He remained still, a fine tremble starting up in his body to resonate with Aslan's voice. "Say what you mean to say, Rodimus Prime," Aslan ordered.
"Did he even notice when Optimus died?" Rodimus's vocalizer obeyed on its own. He shuttered his optics, and shook quietly when Aslan lowered his head to rub against his prematurely-aged cheek.
"He did," Aslan answered in as close to a whisper as he ever came, and underneath it Rodimus could hear sorrow too deep to fathom - the sorrow of knowing every soul who perished under his banner, and having eternity to mourn them.
Unbidden and unasked, Rodimus's hand buried itself in Aslan's mane again. "Being a god has to suck," he heard himself say, and winced in anticipation.
But Aslan's answer was favorable: a lick to his cheek with a rough tongue and a loud purr. "You are kind to offer compassion to me." He stretched out on Rodimus's broad chest, shamelessly enjoying the Autobot's attentions, playing the relaxed housecat again.
"You're saying I should try to offer that same compassion to Primus, when I get home," Rodimus answered wryly.
"It would ease your patron's burden."
Rodimus sighed ruefully. "Well, I can't not try now. You're good at this." He propped his head up by his arm and sighed again. "But - uh - we don't have to leave right away, do we? Danny's having so much fun..."
"Daniel," Aslan told him with just a hint of sternness, "has his own path to walk." He turned his head, though, to where Daniel was chasing around with a good-humored Stag and a few dryads, his brown, coltish legs flashing in the sun. His eyes softened. "But, no," he allowed. "Not right away."
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A million times over!
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Big, warm, fluffy Lion for knocking some sense into Roddy!
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<333333333333333333333333333333333333333333
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And is it evil that I totally ship Aslan/Roddy now? Just in a scratching between the ears sort of way? *waits for lightning to strike*