#transformers bluestreak

[mechncheese]

The easiest way to tell Prowl and Bluestreak apart is to look at the legs

[ukiyoebirds]

The profound joy that comes from being listened to.

May need to click on the image for better quality.

[runawaymac]

incorrect use of a flyt

[swivelbot]

IDW’s Holomatter Avatars are peak character design I fear…

[raringooo]

Ironhide when kids miss training vs Ironhide when legit anyone else does

[infinitealpacas700]

Their friendship in the covenant of primus destroyed me

[hoiststowline]

_bluestreak x reader

aside from the usual quiet sighs of relief shared among friends when someone returns to base unharmed, Bluestreak can't recall a time when anyone was so outwardly excited to see him. it’s a reaction that brings him to his knees, patience forced to stand firm as you meet him halfway, even if he’d rather have you in his arms ten minutes ago. 

it’s an intoxicating feeling, especially when his arrival is more of a surprise than a pre-planned date, not that he isn’t counting down the minutes himself. for someone better described as a chatterbox, it’s no easy feat to keep such a secret, sincerely always wanting you to be untroubled. 

“Was that a yawn?” it takes immense effort to even scrounge the question, knowing the moment he acknowledged it, he’d have to put his foot down. “It’s pretty late, y/n. Maybe we should call it for the night.” 

it had been a decent stretch of time since the two of you last saw each other, tugged apart by unfair schedules and unrehearsed changes to once concrete plans. phone calls were even far and few inbetween, and just as soon as it started, in the blink of an eye three hours had already passed the both of you by. 

“No,” you insist, but it’s overruled by another stifled yawn. 

Bluestreak wants you to know that he always misses you, just as much as you miss him, and somehow even more, if that's humanly possible. you always retaliate, never quite concluding the conversation even if you begrudgingly admit there's some work you need to complete. you definitely miss him more, and while it may or may not be true, he always concedes to your jovial affection. 

every chance he gets, messages always conclude the same way: I miss you. 

it doesn’t feel right to end an exchange any other way, as likely the only time messages are swapped is when the two of you have been apart for longer than usual. he’d rather be physically present with you, but texting sufficed until it didn’t, mostly when he was being dragged along to his responsibilities.

“You’re lying,” Bluestreak laughs, in a teasing manner. “C’mon, I know you need your sleep. We can pick this up tomorrow.”

there’s never a guarantee as to why he never makes promises he doesn’t intend to keep. he’d go out of his way every single time if it meant speaking with you for five minutes on the phone, but such precious time was never ascertained. schedules change, rapidly at that, and as much as he wishes he could promise you the simplest thing, he couldn’t bear to have to break such trust. largely because somewhere in the back of his processor, he knew he’d break a lot of promises if he became too overzealous to make them so easily. 

“Only four more days to get through.” he adds, hoping to cheer you up some and lessen the hardship in saying goodbye for the evening. 

something twinges in his chassis at your groan of frustration, and he can practically picture you rolling over in bed and screaming into a nearby pillow. “Four days too many.” 

“Y’know…” he starts, but knows better than to propose such a bad idea. 

“I do, I know.” you mumble, curling up atop your sheets underneath a blanket or two. “M’sorry, Bluestreak.” 

Bluestreak stumbles over his words, talking far too fast to try and revise what he truly meant. “No, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. I was going to suggest something stupid. You have every right to feel however you want to feel, and I feel the same way.”

sitting up, your heart skips a beat, finding something in his words that had you wondering just what he truly intended. “What were you going to say?” 

“It’s a bad idea, y/n.” but it’s on the edge of his glossa, even more now that you’re seemingly onboard with little coaxing and having no idea of what he’s truly asking. 

he had discovered some unexpected spare time before the next day, but imploring such would mean you would have to give up your much needed rest, required to be prepared for tomorrow's tasks. it remains undoubtedly selfish to even have considered it, but his desire to just see your face, if only for a little while, overpowers that notion. 

Bluestreak has yet to find a compromise to that problem. there is likely nothing that will ever satisfy that desire, so when a wedge like this is forced upon the two of you, it's difficult but circumstantially manageable. it’s not impossible, he’s trudged through it before, but it doesn’t mean that it’s automatically easy. it’s hard to not see someone you simply adore for superficially torturous amounts of time. 

it’s taken at face value, he often has to remind himself. something he has to accept for the time being, until a more agreeable solution can be uncovered. he doesn’t know when that will happen, if it ever will, but with all things considered, he can adhere to wishful thinking. 

“Can I hear it?” you entreat in a small voice, and at that Bluestreak knows he’s all but lost this stalemate. part of him wonders if he subconsciously extended such sentiments because he knew this would happen, even if he also understood you needed your rest. 

perhaps he could satiate both wants, simultaneously. 

he can’t describe the expression you make, it’s a mixture of elation and reassurance, relieved to shake the concern that’s had you wound up throughout the past month. it’s unyielding, and this time he swears there’s a glassiness in your eyes that was never there before. 

nothing takes very long to be set in motion, as the self-restraint Bluestreak once had is tossed aside the moment his hands make contact with your sides. there’s hardly any coherent words exchanged, your whispers of “I missed you so much,” dissolve into ticklish laughter, unable to suppress it as he kisses every inch he can possibly reach.

though he wishes to cater to you and ensure your happiness holds firm, Bluestreak will never turn down your sincere gestures, small fingers finding his cheeks as you place kisses all along his face. his thumbs run over your stomach, soft, gentle motions as if to remind himself that you are here, present in the moment and he hasn’t conjured this one up on false pretenses. 

“This wasn’t a bad idea.” your lips are so soft, ghosting over his cheek as you mumble sentences that have his spark doing summersaults. “You never have bad ideas, Blue.”

one hand cups your back, holding you in place against the crook of his neck. his other hand relaxes behind his helm, now nestled in his berth as you fight the urge to completely crash. it’s increasing in complexity, as his thumb now draws lazy circles over the top of your thigh, turning inward every now and then to kiss the crown of your head. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” he faintly laughs, melting as somehow you dip deeper into his touch. “This one was pretty good, though.”

after such a reunion, Bluestreak insisted you get straight to bed, murmuring that you’ve certainly had enough excitement for this hour of the day. in the morning, he’d fix the mess he assuredly created, but for now, he could be at full ease. every ounce of energy he previously had was drawn from him, joints settling as he heavily acknowledged the perfectness in such an observation. 

he stops trying to steal glances your way upon taking into account your evened out breathing, fingers halting their dancing over his plating. your cheek has smushed happily against his, and he concludes his mindless touches against your velvety clothes. 

“Good night,” Bluestreak was never a good whisperer, but this tenderness arrives without a second thought. “Sleep well, y/n.”

[tweeapis]

I’m gonna put them in a blender and puree them

I think they would have a fun dynamic that’s all

[clownswithshoes]

The “has no story relevance in the fan continuity but the artist thought they were cool so they drew them anyway” gang

[robotcoves-treasure-trove]

bluestreak mention!

[phoenixisobsessed]

cat 91 for g1 bluestreak pls?

Flowers? (Original post: PINNED IN BLOG.)

Ong did this one yesterday. I’m gonna be in a car for 6 hours today so if y’all want to send in any asks for me to do while literally having nothing else to do, now is the time!! Thanks guys. (I have 0 new ones I am begging) Btw this one is 41/100. We almost halfway!!

[swivelbot]

Bios Down Here.

Prowl:

FUNCTION: MILITARY STRATEGIST. “Logic is the Ultimate Weapon.” PROWL will keep at a task for as long as it takes. Strives to find reason and logic in everything. A listener, not a talker. Has most sophisticated logic center of all Autobots. Able to analyze and advise on complex combat situations almost instantaneously. Fires wire-guided incendiary missiles and high-corrosive acid pellets. The unexpected can often scramble his circuits.

Bluestreak:

FUNCTION: GUNNER. “I’ve never met a Decepticon I didn’t dislike.” BLUESTREAK often talks incessantly and inanely. Lightens the situation for all Autobots with his good-natured manner. Despite formidable weaponry and blazing speed, he hates war. Haunted by memory of Decepticons destroying his home-city. Fires bombs up to 8.3 miles and lightning-like 80,000-volt beam up to 12 miles of limited accuracy. Often inhibited by his disdain for combat.

Smokescreen:

FUNCTION: DIVERSIONARY TACTICIAN. “A look can be deceiving; a touch can be lethal.” Whether engaged in raging battle or friendly conversation, an ulterior purpose usually exists. Job is to lead enemy astray. Sneaky, but charming and affable…considered most devious yet most trusted of Autobots. In car mode, emits thick smoke from tailpipe…attracts to metal. In robot mode, shoots missiles which wreak havoc on enemy aircraft radar and guidance systems… electro-disruptor shorts out electrical targets.

[raringooo]

Bluestreak redesign :) my friend had ideas n I drew em!

[infinitealpacas700]

I’ve been thinking about Bluestreak a lot lately

[hoiststowline]

_bluestreak x reader

tw//: mentions of injury/blood.

The moments directly after are a little clouded, misjudging where he landed as the inky sky overtakes his current field of vision. Immediately, he's overwhelmed with the notion that whatever caused the disorientation must still be at large, and subconsciously moves to sit up. The instinct to check his surroundings overthrows many natural reactions, forced to assess the environment before gauging himself for injury.

Bluestreak doesn't get very far when a small cough echoes. On instinct, he goes completely still, unmoving to better acclimatize. The short sputter has his impulse frozen, irresolute in what caused it, but knowing where it derived from. He can't even recall transforming, uncertain as to how he ended up in his bipedal mode with you scooped in one hand, held against his chassis in a protective manner.

Slowly, he hauls himself into a sitting position, using his unoccupied hand as leverage. You don't say anything, and that's farthest from reassuring even if he can't see any outward injury. Some scrapped up knees and dirt across your face, but you seem pretty intent on keeping your arms out of his line of sight.

"Are you okay?" Bluestreak whispers, but realizes rather promptly how insanely dumb that sounds to ask. "I mean, clearly not. But in a 'no life-threatening injuries' way?"

At his words, you groan, smacking your head against his plating in reply. He winces, taking in that you were still very groggy, being that it was rather obvious you hadn't intended to do such an unpredictable action.

Still not convinced, Bluestreak presses you mildly. "You can stay there, just a thumbs up will do,"

Observing you carefully, after a couple seconds you tug a hand free and weakly offer a thumbs up, an gesture that sends waves of relief over him. It wasn't incredibly persuasive, but he counted on that you wouldn't be untruthful with him. There was no need to fabricate the reality of the situation, he'd get you the help you needed without a moments hesitation.

"There's good news, and bad news." He'd be talking to himself, but still pauses as you shift around in his grasp. "Good news is, we're both okay. Bad news, I have no idea what happened or where we are."

Just as he goes to stand, a noise catches his audials. The surrounding environment had been rather quiet, so Bluestreak knew fully that you had made the sound. A soft whimper, breathed in pain as he hauled himself upward.

"y/n?" He's almost afraid to ask, terrified of the response. "What hurts?"

But you're unwilling, something that frightens him. Insistent that you were alright and had nothing for him to see, you curl further in on yourself. "M'good,"

Gingerly, he carries himself to his feet, able to get a better look at your wounds that way. Using his index finger, he tenderly skims over your body, watching your face to see if it would contort in pain.

"C'mon show me," He grumbles, frustrated by your defiance.

Then, he takes notice how persistent you are in keeping your left arm cradled to your side, turned inward against his chest. Your eyes jump wide, discerning that he now knows something is amiss with your appendage. "No, it's fine-"

He's peeling you away from your hiding spot, cautious and unyielding. "Show me, if it's fine then."

And it's not, your heart sinking into your stomach as he takes note of your distinctly broken arm. Bluestreak's optics flash bright in surprise before dimming considerably, a frown adhered to a normally congenial face.

"Is it...?" He nods towards your arm, uncertain of the terminology.

Relenting, you use your good hand to swipe away some unshakable tears. "Might be broken, m'not sure,"

At once, he can hark back to the accident, but only in short intervals. He remembers becoming distracted, more focused on something up the mountainside rather than the winding road up ahead. Tugged back to reality by his rearview mirror, within it's reflection he catches your eyes bounce wide, motioning for him to pay attention with a uneasy: "Look out-"

Everything is fuzzy after that. Somewhere along the tumble down the edge he had transformed, holding you safely against his chest as his plating took the brunt of the rocks. Someone had been up there, likely had fired off a warning shot that clipped his tire, causing him to lose control. A fair assumption due to the profuse scent of burning rubber still lingering about.

But he was completely fine, aside from some superficial nicks.

"Broken?" Bluestreak warbles, not knowing how bad that is, but it doesn't sound good. "Like, irreparably broken?"

He knows he should already be halfway to a medic by now, but he can't move. Something shut down within him, rendering the normally lively mech motionless and with disorganized thoughts.

"No," Your arm lays limply in your lap, some scratches running up and over soft skin. "It's completely fixable, I just need to-"

Bluestreak is so grateful he doesn't need to hear the end of your sentence, knowing exactly what you meant. The guilt lingers heavy, but for now, the main course of action was getting you to someone who could heal you. He could deal with the repercussions later, hellbent on rectifying the immediate cause for disquiet.

You'd fallen asleep in the passenger seat on the way to the hospital as it was a longer ride than he'd like to admit. Even more culpability spreads within his chest, trying his damndest to as benign as possible in waking you up.

"y/n..." Bluestreak whispers, knowing he can't be out here long, especially when you needed to be checked over as soon as possible. "C'mon, you need to see a medic."

After you rouse, you're still groggy and shaken up but make it inside to the waiting room to fill out paperwork. Bluestreak watches you from across the lot, through the glass doors until you disappear from sight. Then, after parking on the side of the building, he decides to make a call, in doubt of what direction to take.

"What's the emergency?" Sideswipe pulls up next to him in the hospital parking lot, the blue sports car practically rolling back in forth in guilt.

"I need you to take y/n home," He responds, finally going still. "I didn't want to leave them alone until you got here."

Sideswipe pauses, before noting the hospital sign. "Uh, they okay? No offense, but why can't you do it?"

It just didn't seem like an actual emergency, thinking Bluestreak was moderately blowing this one out of proportion. But the grey mech was acting off, distant and disconnected from the conversation, evidently on edge.

"Just do me a favor? They'll be out in a bit." He can't bring himself to face you, even as much as he wants to know how you're feeling. "I think they're fine. Broken arm."

Sideswipe makes a static noise, unmistakably out of surprise. "You can't just say 'broken arm' causally like that! What do you mean, broken?!"

"Do you think I know any more organic terminology than you?" Bluestreak gripes, becoming exasperated. "I'll just owe you one, okay?"

He leaves no room for argument before driving off, uncharacteristically tense and short-tempered.

The mechanical doors whir open upon your step forward, eyes straight away searching for Bluestreak. To your surprise, a bright red Lamborghini meets you at the double doors, effortlessly pulling up right against the curb.

"Hi. Where's Bluestreak?" You ask, approaching the now rolled down passenger window. "I wasn't that long,"

"You're telling me. He told me there was an emergency, but you're clearly fine," You can sense his backpedal coming from a mile away. "I mean, obviously you're hurt, but I don' t know why he couldn't take you home."

"Oh." You answer in a small voice.

"He'd like that armor though," Referring to the blue cast over your arm, he gently pops open the passenger door, beckoning you inside.

"Thanks." A mumble, trying to stifle your disappointment, but it was all in vain. "And thanks for driving me home,"

"Don't worry about it." Sideswipe offers, trying to be compassionate. "I'll talk to him later. He owes both of us an explanation."

The car ride is filled with silence, uncommon for Sideswipe. You suppose you were poor company as well, the cast was already starting to itch and all you wanted was to be positive Bluestreak was alright. Now that you had your bearings and weren't blinded by unfathomable pain, you felt guilty for making him worry so much.

"So, what do I tell him?" At Sideswipe's question, your attention diverts from the window back to the dashboard. "You're fine? Or the arms broken forever,"

You faintly laugh, amused. "I'll be fine. My arm will heal in about six to eight weeks, might be longer, but it will heal."

Bluestreak avoids you for a week, relaying messages to you through both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. He won't even pick up your calls or texts, dead set on keeping far away from you, something that only tugs heavily on your heartstrings.

There's two scribbly signatures on your cast when Bluestreak finally comes around. He couldn't take it anymore, especially Sunstreaker's retelling of how you just ask for him the entire time, wondering how he was. He had recovered just fine, no significant abrasions that would hinder remedy.

The first time he sees you since the accident is bittersweet. Internally, he knows he doesn't deserve your kindness or sympathy, but he also wasn't that sure how much longer he could go without seeing you. From seeing you nearly every day to not at all was downright cruel, even if he had set that boundary himself.

Brought to his knees, he watches a familiar smile overtake your face whilst calling out his name. You quickly cross the floor, himself offering open arms to you always, scooping you up happily.

The contentment doesn't last very long, as his eyes drop to your arm, wrapped in blue plaster and temporarily bent at the elbow. Vaguely, he's aware that you're fighting to wind your arms around his neck, mumbling "I missed you" into the mesh there.

He can't get his processor to shut up, blurting out: "I'm so sorry. I don't even know what else to say. Please, I'm so sorry."

Pulling back slightly, your good hand comes to rest atop his cheek, leaning forward to deposit a kiss on his lips. "You don't have to be sorry, it was an accident-"

"I'm the one who's responsible for you!" Bluestreak leans forward into your touch, one of his servos coming to cover your hand. "It doesn't matter if it was an accident; you still got hurt. It's my fault."

"You got hurt too." You hum, fingers moving delicately against his cheek, but his digits furl around yours, as if to halt your comfort. "I'm not angry with you, and I certainly don't blame you for the mishap."

"I had dented plating," He argues, optics fixated on the floor, now unable to meet your gaze any longer. "I was so worried about you."

"It'll be okay." Spoken as a whisper, wrangling yourself even closer in his hold. "Look, Sunny and Sides signed my cast,"

"How can you not care that I broke your arm?" Bluestreak's voice hitches, but accepts your wordless proposition for further contact. "You’re the one who’s hurt because of me."

"I’m not upset with you, Bluestreak. These kinda accidents happen, and this one just happened to be one we are encountering together." You assure, not used to seeing the mech so downhearted. "But we’ll get through it."

"You're really okay?" He rumbles, finally drawing his regard upward to meet yours. Meticulously, he removes your hand from his cheek to bring to his lips, murmuring against your knuckles. "Promise?"

"I promise," You echo, finally at ease.

kinda had this song on repeat while writing this^^

[robotshowtunes]

Bluestreak & Son 👨🏾‍👦🏾