Disclaimer: Transformers universe is copyright Hasbro. I don't own Transformers or any of their characters, universe, or any other recognizable situations. I do not make money from them. The following is done for entertainment only. I realize I'm taking liberties with some of the personalities and situation. If anyone enjoys it, I will be insanely happy, and if anyone is offended, I'm sorry! I love working with electromagnetism, which is why many of my characters have "energy-field" issues. My main characters are jets. Yes, I know it's overdone, but I worked on F-16's for many years so Seekers are my weakness. Dragons are my other weakness.
Background of the Shifters universe:
Ages ago, when the Transformers from G1 were no more than wicked gleams in the eyes of their creators, there were certain mechs on Cybertron who, for some reason, were created with the ability to shift into a third form, owing to peculiar variations in their electromagnetic fields. This new form, seen by most to be a horrible mutant coding aberration, was semi-organic. The mech would retain their general coloring; plus fliers would have wings, and ground vehicles would not. [This is partially from a non-TF story I am writing called Shifters, where some humans can change into anthropomorphic creatures, and another called Hyperspace, (until I think of a better title), which deals with the theme of the convergence of organic and mechanical, and where one begins and the other ends – Nova is the main character there.] The affected mechs were generally ostracized. It was only through the efforts of the only shifter Prime, called Cerinos, that the others were given hope for the future. Seeing that their society would never accept them, Cerinos lead her people into exile. As Galadriel said in the J. R. R. Tolkien movie, The Lord of the Rings prologue, "History became legend; legend became myth." The background story, which I am still working on, has the shifters, called "sarcoa" or "spirit rider" in the language of their adopted world, getting involved with the Autobots and Decepticons, and the problem of old prejudices vs badly-needed allies. The two main characters, Nova and Tirel Stormwalker, are sisters, Seekers (jets), and helping the Autobots. "Klay" or Klayadra Goldwind, is the sarcoa medic. The third form is called "skaari, or "soul form." Nova's skaari form is a silver dragon. (Like my persona). Tirel's is a black gryphon. Most of them have been trained to add a simple garment, like a wrap, to their organic form for modesty.
WARNING: This contains slash (mech on mech kissing) and sexual you don't like slash, turn back now!
The sarcoa use the word "mech" as most use the word "bot." In other words, a "mech" to them is a mechanical organism. They have no idea what a "femme" is, and it's a topic of some confusion and much hilarity in later chapters.
"Of Football and Llamas"
Bluestreak carefully refilled an armload of energon cubes before making his way across the lounge. He stopped for a few moments to take in the delightful scene – a group of his best friends watching a sports game on television. Sunstreaker hurled expletives at the screen after a particularly disappointing play. The others chimed in their agreement. Only hours before, they had been involved in a heated battle with the Decepticons, sustaining heavy injuries. Now, the horrors of war were temporarily forgotten in a rousing, half inebriated assembly over some quaint human diversion. He wasn't even sure what was happening in the game most of the time, but it didn't matter. Everyone was safe at home. For one tiny moment, their world was at peace.
"Can you believe that fumble?" the golden twin shrieked.
"That quarterback must be blind," Sides added, happily taking a fresh high-grade cube from Bluestreak.
Nova studied the players carefully. Her own cube was barely touched at the moment. Blue clicked his glossa in playful scolding and filled it from one of the others.
"You don't drink enough to keep a micro-fly online," he told her.
"Thanks," she answered, never taking her optics from the screen.
"Did you see that, Blue?" Sunny persisted, "He wasn't even trying!"
"The Rams need a new starting lineup," the gunner chuckled, plopping into a seat.
"Or a miracle," Sunny muttered into his cube.
"So, the players have to get the ball to either goal," Nova tried, "and the other team tries to stop them."
"Yep," Sideswipe nodded. "it can get pretty violent."
Nova raised an eyeridge. "Looks tame to me."
"We should get a game going sometime," Blue leaned over the red twin's shoulder, "all we need is a few more players."
"And llamas!" Sunny announced, draining the last of his third cube.
The others looked at him.
"What's a llama?" Nova asked.
"Some kind of furry quadruped," Blue offered.
"They must be sacred to humans," Sunny went on, "Frellin' things are everywhere...movies, websites..."
"Maybe they're good luck," Sides mused.
"Then the Rams could definitely use a few llamas," Blue chuckled.
"Change the fraggin' channel!" Sunny demanded, waving his arms.
"Alright, alright," Blue laughed, grabbing the remote, "hold your horsepower."
"The Srilari have a similar sport," Nova offered, "but it's played with two balls. And if you don't draw blood, it's not a foul."
"Now that's violent," Blue added.
"Then Nova would fit right in," Sideswipe snickered, leaning drunkenly in her general direction.
"Are you saying I'm violent?" the silver Seeker gasped with feigned concern.
"Violent, overbearing, and slightly unstable," Sides announced, toasting her. Nova clicked her cube against his.
"Here's another sports channel," Blue announced. "It's called...'Playboy'."
"Hope it's not golf again," Sunny slurred.
The group watched, optics wide as the commercial ended. Whimpers and moans filled the otherwise empty lounge.
"I don't think this is sports," Sides offered.
Bluestreak fumbled for the remote and changed the channel.
"Human interfacing is so messy," Nova added.
"And loud," the gunner agreed.
"Nothing wrong with loud," the red warrior announced, "means you have a good partner."
"Oh really now?" Nova asked, raising a teasing eyeridge.
"I could show you what I mean sometime," Sides told her with a lascivious grin.
Sunny whacked his brother with an empty energon cube.
"Ouch! What was that for?"
"You're making our guest uncomfortable," his brother snapped.
"Oh please," the Seeker added, "on my planet, they recognize four distinct genders and view sex as a spiritual experience."
"I want a transfer!" Sideswipe raised his hand. Nova giggled.
"Don't encourage him," Sunstreaker told her.
Sides ignored him and turned to Blue.
"Would you be so kind, Mr. Bluestreak?" the red warrior held out his cube.
"My pleasure," the gunner chuckled, taking his and other proffered cubes. "Better than you trying to walk right now."
"Nova?" Sunny tried.
"I'm good," she smiled, holding up a half-empty cube.
Blue grabbed it for a refill with the others.
"Your sister told us you need to drink more," he scolded.
"And who's the Air Commander?" she folded her arms with a sigh.
Sides leaned in closer and gave her a warm smile.
"Siblings," he shrugged.
Nova smiled back, optics lingering a bit too long on the Autobot.
"I guess they do it because they care," she added softly.
Sunstreaker draped his arms over his twin's shoulders.
"Yes, we do," he told him, optics warning.
Sides shrugged in the Seeker's direction and hugged his brother.
Nova watched them briefly out of the corner of her optics, then glanced down to her hands, folded in her lap. She tried not to watch as Sunny lifted his brother's chin for a deep kiss. All was silent for a few moments until Blue returned. He stopped, noticing the Seeker's lingering glance. She tried to focus her interest on the television. Bluestreak cycled air deeply.
"Now who's making our guest uncomfortable?" he snapped at them.
Sideswipe looked up, passion fading in sudden awareness. Nova looked away and folded her arms, composing herself to appear jovial.
"Don't worry, Blue," she grinned, mask firmly in place.
Sideswipe squeezed his brother's hand, speaking to him over their bond.
-It's been just the two of us for so long...-
-What...her?-
-Why not?-
-She's an alien freak and part Decepticon!-
-Because she has wings?-
-She's not like us.-
Sideswipe grumbled something disagreeable under his breath.
"Everything alright?" the gunner asked, noticing their intense stares.
"Fine," Sides muttered.
"Look," Nova stood up and faced them, "I know how to help," her optics darted between the warriors for a moment. "I'll just say goodnight."
"But-" Sides tried.
"Good night," Sunny added with finality.
Bluestreak smiled as the Seeker left, then glared at Sunstreaker.
"Sunny..." he began.
"She's use to it, now," the golden twin answered, grumbling into his cube of high-grade, "or should be."
Sideswipe watched her until she left the lounge, wings and helm drooping and pedes shuffling softly. The cold darkness of the hallway seemed suddenly to grow. Bluestreak sighed and glared at Sunny.
"Has it been that long," he began, "that you've forgotten what it feels like to not have a home?"
"What?" the golden warrior sputtered, "she has a home. Along with the rest of her freaky friends." He settled into his latest energon cube with a satisfied stretch.
Sideswipe stared at the door, optics heavy. "Why does it have to be us and them?" he whispered.
"What?" Blue turned to the red twin.
"It's something Nova said to me earlier," he replied, still staring after her. "Apparently, Cerinos had this big prophecy about them returning to Cybertron, someday."
"Like that'll ever happen," Sunny muttered.
The gunner scowled at him and turned back to Sideswipe.
"We're all alike," Sides continued, CPU swimming in a drunken haze, "Alike in our differences."
Bluestreak smiled softly and nudged him.
"Go talk to her," the gunner whispered.
Sides shook his helm in an attempt to clear it, "I..."
"There's nothing to talk about," Sunstreaker snarled.
The red twin watched his brother closely, optics shaded in contemplation. He was right – Sunny was always right. He knew what was best for them. Blue optics lingered on the dark corridor a moment longer before Sunny jerked him back. He rested his helm against his brother's shoulder.
"Don't worry about it, Bro," the golden warrior added with finality, "just watch the game."