solaris-small-but-loyal  asked:

So I was wondering how many of the auto bots have appeared in the live action "bayverse" movies and more specifically have the Autobots Prowl Bluestreak and Smokescreen appeared in them?

Internal to the films themselves, the list is quite short. 

The first movie featured Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Jazz, Ironhide, and Ratchet. “Revenge of the Fallen” added Skids, Mudflap, Sideswipe, the Arcee triplets, and Jolt, plus ex-Decepticons Jetfire and Wheelie. “Dark of the Moon” threw in Que/Wheeljack, Dino/Mirage, Brains, and the Wreckers Leadfoot, Roadbuster, and Topspin. Then “Age of Extinction” added Hound, Crosshairs, and Drift. 

However, “movieverse” incarnations of Prowl, Bluestreak, and Smokecreen do exist! Prowl was introduced in IDW’s movie comics, and later had a toy in the Age of Extinction series:

Smokescreen started out with a toy in the original movie series that was a repaint of Jazz, which led to him also appearing in IDW’s comics, and getting a few more figures in the Revenge of the Fallen series:

And Bluestreak…. eeeehn, well, he’s just a blue repaint of Sideswipe from the Speed Stars line. Not so hot.

your-next-top-bookwriter  asked:

A request please where Bluestreak is trying to flirt with someone, or when he first realizes he likes someone? :)

Bluestreak: Oh boy, I hope you don’t mind diarrhea of the mouth. If you’re not already in a relationship, he’s nervous about impressing you and just ends up spewing these rambling heroic stories that keep getting derailed by little things and opinions. Even if you’re in a stable romance, he’ll still be a bit flustered; though he’ll hold himself more confidently and would probably let himself use some tacky pickup lines for a laugh now that he knows it won’t drive you off.

Sixty One Miles

For the lovely @thinkingkim who wanted to read some Prowl and Bluestreak I give you… Part 1! Part 2 to come at some point this weekend =D

Prowl never quite knew what to think of Bluestreak. He was a hard worker and he was skilled, very skilled. The kid showed up out of nowhere (well, out of somewhere very specific actually) and he started fighting. Fighting harder than anyone else and doing a damn good job at it. He was a good shot; one of the snipers you wanted to rival if you were still considered new. He was strategic with every decision he made, even if it appeared he did things on a whim, later on Prowl always realized there was a very methodical way Bluestreak did everything. He was smart too, although sometimes that was a little less apparent. He seemed to almost like pretending to be a hardhead in some cases.

He understood the culture of war, which was the thing that really took Prowl by surprise. Not many realize that war even has a culture. Sure it shapes culture; it changes the destinies of people and planets and the, in their case, the entire damn galaxy. It pushes technology and science in new directions. It changes the art and music and education of a society. But war itself creates its own culture. It creates the fighters, the martyrs, the defenders, the strategists, the neutrals, the good guys, and the bad guys. Sure all those people existed before war, but once war starts, once the fights begin, they become much clearer. People are forced to become those things and in turn war’s culture is both intertwined in the changing culture and also stands alone as something entirely different.

That fighter that used to make music (even if you always thought it was more like noise than anything) is now a black ops commander that still makes music (noise). The musician’s music changes; it goes from upbeat to foreboding to hopeful to a desperate attempt to revive what it once was before to a complete loss of the past to a new gritty harsh tone to something quieter…

To complete silence. War’s culture.

Bluestreak was someone that understood this new culture better than anyone. Probably because he watched his culture come crashing down around him. Literally. It left him with a different perspective of the war. The collapse of Praxus was early on; before the war was considered a war. It was still a rebellion. Something they thought they could quell.

Praxus, in a way, was the start of the war. When an entire city falls, what else can you call it?

Prowl knew Bluestreak was a lot like him (and he liked to ignore the fact that both of them were a simple paint job away for that to be really true). Bluestreak hated war just as much as Prowl. Neither of them really wanted anything to do with it, but both of them were forced to be a part of it.

Neither had a choice and that shapes you. It twists to into something just a little different from the rest. No one joins a war on purpose (unless you’re someone like Springer and even then that’s only because there aren’t many other options), but when you try to get away from it or when you don’t even know it’s at your doorstep and then you have a gun in your hand and you pull the trigger for the first time it changes you.

Prowl never had many chances to work with Bluestreak before Earth, though. They both worked for the security forces when Sentinel was in charge, but their separate teams rarely ever worked together. While Prowl was almost always with Optimus, Bluestreak was around, but never really there. He was in every major battle and always played an important part, but Prowl never watched him. They were never next to each other. Bluestreak was stationed all over the place; the orbital array before Cybertron was abandoned, Varas Centralus before it was lost, the Orbital Command Hub, and Hydrus 5 before he ended up, somehow, on Earth with the rest of the ‘usual’ crew.

Now he was tailing the Praxian down Interstate 95 in the middle of a swampy state named Florida in the dead of night and Prowl was suspicious. Very suspicious, because it had been nearly two earth hours since Bluestreak had said anything, which was weird. Bluestreak was a talker and that was putting it nicely. Prowl had heard rumors of Bluestreak’s ability to yammer on, but he was beginning to see they weren’t really rumors as much as they were vast under exaggerations.

At least until tonight.


It was quiet. Well sort of. There was actually a lot of noise on the road between the wind rushing past and the distant rumble of thunder of a storm somewhere to the west. There were a lot of trucks on the interstate with them and the odd cement highway made an awful whining noise under his tires between the ever present click of the cracks between the cement slabs every two seconds. Also the incessant ‘peeping’ noises being made in the water channels off the sides of the interstate from those strange green, slimy, jumping frog creatures was almost deafening.

But that was the kind of quiet that drove Bluestreak crazy.

The sound of noise. Not voices. Not words or songs or laughter or crying or yelling or whispering. Just noise in the background that reminded him of his city that went silent. Silent except for the humming background of the world. Nothing else but him alone with a symphony of loud desolation.

He knew Prowl wasn’t one for conversation. He wasn’t one for words in general, actually, so Bluestreak had picked up the nearest radio stations with anything upbeat playing, drove on just slightly faster than he should have been according to the signs on the sides of the road, and remained quiet. Now they were somewhere between the cities of Daytona Beach and Palm Beach and Bluestreak realized he had greatly misjudged just how large this oddly shaped state really was. How large and how boring it was. There had been nothing but trees and foul smelling standing water pools for the last two hundred miles. The radio stations were all jumping with static now and if one more bug hit him he’d–

A green exit sign reflected in his lights and, at the very loud protest of an oil tanker, Bluestreak cut across the three lanes of highway and took exit 131B to SR 68 West, Orange Avenue (why did everything reference oranges down here?) with a squeal of his tires. Just behind him a very surprised Prowl barely had time to follow with a flurry of curses and questions.

“Damn it Bluestreak! W…Where are you going? Our destination is still another sixty-one Earth miles south. Are you evening listening to me?”

Bluestreak sighed inwardly as he cut off the barely lit road onto a pot hole ridden, silt covered, barely large enough for a car, dirt path. He passed a couple ramshackle looking wooden and tin built houses and kept going once the streetlights had ended and the roar of the nocturnal animals drowned out his own engine.

After the first mile Prowl stopped asking questions. Going on the third mile and having raked his front bumper on the ground for the seventh time Prowl slammed on his brakes and jumped up onto his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. Finally having enough he snapped. “Bluestreak!”

Bluestreak spun around, flinging a wave of rock, sand, and silt up at Prowl and stood with a laugh. “Whoa whoa! I just needed to stretch my legs; that highway was killing my shocks. Who builds a highway out of thirty foot slabs of cement and leaves cracks to bounce you around the entire time?”

Prowl shook his head and tried to wiped the wet dirt off his chest with absolutely no success. The fine grained sand smeared into a larger mess and only spread when he tried to wipe his hands together to get rid of it. “Sure, and this dirt road was so much better.”

Bluestreak laughed again. “Maybe the better question is why the humans thought this swamp would make a good place to settle in first place.”

“Oranges, apparently.” Prowl frowned, still rubbing his hands together. Still not getting the silt off.

“Did…did you just make a joke?” Unsure of whether to be impressed or surprised Bluestreak raised his eyebrows. Prowl never made jokes. At least, not as far as he had seen and heard from others. He was as stoic and serious as any bot could get. Chromedome definitely hadn’t been exaggerating when he told stories about his time Rodion.

“I made an observation.”

Figures. Bluestreak rolled his optics and looked up at the sky. Even though there was still thunder in the distance the sky above them was clear of clouds and littered with stars. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Hm?” Giving up on getting his hands clean Prowl let his arms hang at his sides. Although he definitely made sure not to touch any other part of his body. “Make it quick. We have a deadline to meet.”

“We’re practically three hours ahead of schedule.” Bluestreak put a hand on his hip as he turned to face Prowl. “Anyway, where do you from?”

When there’s more I’ll probably put it up on my AO3 account, but I’ll post a link~