writer + media analysis + artist (v rarely)! multi fandom blog (mainly TF and DC at the moment) i go by HB- check out my ao3 (etchbee) and send in an ask about anything! i always love to talk to new people!
hey guys! so i've been getting a lot of asks on my shattered glass series for stuff i've already covered, so this is just a lil table of contents of all the posts ive done! i'm totally still open to asks but please read this before u send one in so i don't get so many repeats :)
The DJD
SG!Thoughts
Bumblebee/Goldbug
Optimus (+ Timeline)
Prowl
Lost Light
Sentinel Prime
Shockwave
Getaway
The Colony worlds
Chromedome
Starbee
the tag for all of these is hbsg, so you can find them there too!
**disclaimer below the cut
this is NOT a story i have all planned out. i make these up when i get asks ON THE FLY! for this reason, details and plot points are subject to change! if there are contradictions, just assume that whatever is the newest addition is true. i will probably at some point in the future, combine these into a cohesive story, and have one big doc w all the details so it's consistent. if ur reading this... that day is not today. that is a big project and i am lazy.
thinking about a very specific scenario of a grace with no video logs, with no xenonite failure, who comes back to earth as rocky comes back to erid, heart full but missing a very distinct piece. ten, twenty years go by, and grace is not malnourished nor does he look even half his age, but there's a deepset something in his eyes that has nothing to do with stratt's actions being revealed or the press or adjusting to earth again. about earth getting news of a ship coming down, whose atmosphere is fundamentally different now and causes trouble for that ship. damages sustained on that ship. a red light in the sky. suspected eridian contact as confirmed by dr ryland grace. thank you tom, anna temple here and we're live at nasa's makeshift landing pad, ready to receive, watching- oh, my- a row of officials that cannot pin down ryland grace this time as he, live on air, tears apart every country's anxiety of eridians by ripping from the crowd and jumping the fence into the launching area. a camera pan that judders from dr grace sprinting, the most energetic he's been in years, to a brown eridian careening towards him in a xenonite suit. prepared to catch ryland's tackle and embrace him properly, there on the green grass, for the very first time. first contact.
"Heyyyyyy dad you're home early, it- uh- it's not what it looks like?"
"It looks like someone's getting mauled"
"Well I like to think the mauling's mutual-aaand he's covering his eyes, uh, stellar choice there, really 10/10 the judges are going wild-"
"I'm going to Melissa's. Breakfast in the morning, both of you."
"see I told you he wouldn't mind, now calm down and put those headlights away already"
1.5 years of sterek brainrot and I've somehow never drawn derek with red eyes nor the classic trope of the sheriff walking in on them? for shame, mel.
Any story featuring feral derek or him getting a little lost in his instincts are so important to me - this man who never gets to keep anything good in his life digging his claws into stiles and saying no, this one is mine, you can't have him - you see the vision šš
a closeup as well as the lines under the cut, bc i quite like them on their own too:
MY REVERSE BLOODYMARY AU, TAKE IT GO GO GO!!! I really want to lean into Ryland Grace mad scientist for this thank you very much.
RYLAND GRACE GETS HIS GLASSES REVERSE AU COMIC š
In this AU Simon and Adrian get stuck in their progress as neither of them have the expert6 that Grace and Rocky have. When Grace gets there he's able to start piecing together the notes left by strats team and then there's another blip- LOOOL ROCKY IS HERE!!! Adrian and their crew is taking too long so hes on a rescue mission. Then it's GRACE AND ROCKY SAVE STARSSSS and a one way trip to Erid š®āšØā„ļø
The white capped peaks might as well been gleaming teeth from a jagged maw, for all the softness they contained. There was no mercy. There were no second chances. There was survival, or there was death.Ā
āBe prepared,ā Eliasās mother ordered. She stood tall and proud, her hands clasped neatly behind her back and her posture immaculate even through the thick bulk of her coat. āIt will be a difficult journey.ā
Ā Her dark gaze didnāt waver. Elias nodded, wringing his hands behind his back. He felt almost nothing through his thick woolen gloves.Ā
It would take nearly three weeks to make it down to the flatlands and into the Capital. Longer, perhaps, if their single horse cart slowed them down. They were only a small party, Elias, his guardsmen Polnious, and two other footmen to aid their descent.
Behind his mother, her dark and whiteāfrosted castle loomed, golden fires dancing in every window. Elias yearned, suddenly, to step inside just once moreā to run his fingers over the richly covered tapestries insulating each walls, to race his way down winding, endless corridors, met only with the familiar, never-changing faces of his people. His family.Ā
It was the first time heād ever left home. It was the first time heād ever left his mother.Ā
āOma,ā he murmured, lifting his chin to meet her eye and taking care to keep his voice steady. āIāll be strong. Iāll send word, when we arrive.āĀ
āYou should focus on your studies, not letter writing,ā she corrected. āYour brother has high expectations of you. Take care that you do not disappoint him.āĀ
Elias blinked away the rejection. āYes, Oma,ā he agreed. āI wonāt let you down.āĀ
She pursed her lips, and then, with a smooth and intentional movement, bent down to adjust his hood. She pulled it tight around his face, looking him over with an expression that Elias couldnāt read. Her dark lashes were dusted with small particles of snow.Ā
āIām sure you wonāt,ā she offered him quietly, and with that, pulled away.Ā
Elias let out a deep breath, watching it collect into mist in front of his face. Polnious placed a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed. It was time to go.Ā
The thick spikes under his boots cracked the thin coating of ice present on each step leading towards the ground. His mother and a few more figures remained by the doors as the parting group gathered, checking over their supplies and tying over the tarp from their cart.Ā
āUp you go, then,ā Polnious said, and lifted Elias up onto the front seat of the cart. He headed around to the other side, and Elias chanced one more look towards the castle, where his mother lingered. Her long hair, normally twisted into a tight braid, flowed freely in the wind. Elias wished he had thought to pull tight her hood as well. It was too late. Polnious, with a snap of the reins, began to pull them into the dimmed embrace of the tall, lumbering pines.Ā
It was moments before the castle was out of sight.Ā
Elias blinked furiously, dropping his head and forcing down the growing lump in his throat.Ā
āHey,ā Polnious murmured from beside him. Elias didnāt dare lift his gaze, but from his peripheral, spotted the man rummaging in the interior pocket of his coat. āHere,ā he said finally, holding out something in the midst of his green glove.Ā
Elias reached out cautiously, and pulled out a ornate blackāglass knife.Ā
The handle was a carved wood, symbols of wolves and pines and fire on the sides. The dark grain extended up, the black, nightālike material emerging from it like a tree from jagged rocks. Elias pulled off one of his gloves, ignoring the biting chill, and traced a finger on itās edgeā almost scalloped, in the way it dipped and rose, but razor sharp. His cheeks pinked.Ā
āFrom the Lady,ā Polnious explained softly. āShe asked me to give it to you.āĀ
ā...Thank you,ā Elias whispered, his vision blurring. Polnious, kindly, stayed silent as water began to drip down on the beautiful knife.
This is - legitimately - my favourite delivery of Shakespeare I have EVER seen (and I have seen some good-ass productions yo, in the Globe Theatre itself even). Like seriously, even though the words are unchanged, heās stripped away ALL of the archaic pretense and assumed grandeur of ~presenting the bard~ that makes even the most wildly talented of actors and innovative of productions inherently inaccessible to a modern audience. Like, theyāre still great, they can still communicate the message and (some) of the nuance, but theyāre still always a step removed from being identifiable to any viewerās lived experience. Theyāre still always reciting 15th century poetry. But this guy? This guy is like, screw iambic pentameter, to hell with being precious about the material, HOW WOULD AN ACTUAL PERSON SAY THIS SHIT?
Like this. And itās beautiful. Itās beautiful to hear a soliloquy I loved so much already, and have it come to life in a way it never, ever, did before. I feel like I grasp his motivations, his twists and turns, no longer on an academic level but on a visceral, instinctive one. Because heās presenting his mental and emotional journey in a way that speaks honestly, like a real person.
So yeah, this shit post? I love it. Deeply and sincerely.
