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Raised by Moogles

I know I haven't been very good at filling these, but...

I know I haven't been very good at filling these, but...

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Roddy doing the sniktbub
.....let's see if this jump-starts a few of my neglected projects. Stolen shamelessly from minibot_love.

1) Pick one of my fics or drabbles, or any other project you happen to know I am/was doing.

2) Request a future or past scene set in that fic-verse with any characters you want.

3) Wait for me to write 500(+/-) words of said scene.

And there was much rejoicing.
  • "I want someone who knows me well, but not... too well. You know? There still needs to be some mystery there. A little tension."

    Cyclonus felt as dazed as Rodimus sounded, the late hour and the high-grade apparently getting to them both. Springer leaned back and laughed languidly. "You want someone who you can outsmart, you mean," he teased.

    Rodimus made protesting noises, waving a hand at him. "Back me up, Galvatron," he demanded crankily, and was answered by a rolling, relaxed chuckle.

    Galvatron, a good-humored drunk tonight, sprawled back in his chair and gestured with his sixth cube. "Your idea of the perfect subordinate is someone you can argue with," he offered, optics glittering.

    "I like to argue," Rodimus admitted, reaching for his own highgrade. Springer made 'does he ever' noises and Rodimus kicked him under the table.

    Galvatron smirked at the wounded (wounded, I say!) Wrecker, clearly agreeing with the sentiment. "My dear Prime, you've got it all wrong. The ideal subordinate is one who yields." So stating, he reached out and dragged Cyclonus onto his lap. The spacejet went willingly, too overcharged himself to spare a thought to dignity, and arched with a croon as Galvatron molested his wing.

    "Wow," Springer stated intelligently. Rodimus was more used to the sight, but no less affected, his engine rumbling unsteadily as he watched.

    "You see, Rodimus?" Galvatron smirked over Cyclonus's shoulder.

    Rodimus blinked. "I... actually? I'm trying to decide which of you I'm more jealous of." As Galvatron barked a laugh, the young Prime turned to his subordinate. "Wanna help me find out?"

    Springer purred. "Whatever you want, babe." His aft left the seat, only to plunk right down again when Rodimus fairly leapt onto his lap.

    "Touch me," the Prime ordered, squirming over Springer's thighs; Springer blinked at him, then caught Galvatron's openly lustful optics past Rodimus's arm and gulped. Slowly, his hands came up to fondle and squeeze Rodimus's spoiler, just as Galvatron was treating Cyclonus's wings.

    "An obedient and willing subordinate," Galvatron purred into Cyclonus's antenna, "clearly the best kind." Rodimus hummed in agreement.
  • (no subject) - merfilly
  • *purrs* Why do I get the goofiest grin on my face anytime Galvatron, Rodimus and company are drunk and getting it on (and getting along) so well?

    I think what Roddy REALLY wants it for Galvatron to pull him onto his lap and have his way with him.
    • *giggles* Because it's adorable and sexy? *solved!*

      Well, of course he does, but he has to be coaxed into admitting it. >D
  • D'awwwwwwwwwww. The BEST subordinates. Yes. Those. Right there. *ADORES*
  • Why have I never replied to this. I honestly thought I had when you wrote it.

    This is fabulous! And just absolutely perfect.
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