As the title says—today’s my birthday!!! Another year older, and hopefully a little wiser.
Honestly, it doesn’t feel all that different from any other day, but I guess that’s pretty normal. Still, I want to take this moment to thank all of you for your support. I’m genuinely grateful to each and every one of you.
I don't know if I should do this, but here goes nothing: if...
2025-05-22 05:42:45 +0000 UTC View PostThe laundromat looked like someone’s abandoned dream, now reclaimed by disuse and the occasional desperate soul. Cracked windows, mold-eaten wallpaper, a mattress in the storeroom, and nothing else. But it had running water, a locking door, a half-depleted first-aid kit, and—most importantly—no one watching.
Taylor paced slow, restless circuits around the storeroom, arms locked arou...
2025-05-21 08:27:28 +0000 UTC View PostCoil didn’t believe in luck: he believed in pressure; in weight applied precisely and in levers pulled at the right time; and in decisions made far in advance, executed through layers of cause and effect so subtle even the players didn’t know they were playing.
Coil didn’t believe in luck: he believed in pressure; in weight applied precisely and in levers pulled at the right time; a...
2025-05-20 21:30:10 +0000 UTC View PostThe sun hadn’t risen yet, but the horizon had already begun to pale. The streets were quiet, muffled in that in-between hour when the city hadn’t quite woken and the night hadn’t fully let go. Taylor stood across the street from her house.
She hadn’t been here in weeks.
The burner phone in her hand felt heavier than it should as she stared down at the screen, thumb hovering ...
2025-05-20 14:48:25 +0000 UTC View PostThe warehouse was quieter now.
Not silent—there was always noise in the aftermath. A dripping pipe. The distant whine of sirens. The ragged breathing of men too injured to flee. But compared to the chaos from minutes before—the shriek of tearing metal, the howl of something not quite human and not quite monster—the worst of it had faded.
Taylor stood among the ruins, breathing...
2025-05-20 12:17:04 +0000 UTC View PostKeith stood behind the rows of cameras and clustered reporters, arms folded tightly across his chest. His mask failed to hide the exhaustion etched into every line of his face, but thankfully, he wasn’t here to speak—just to watch. To listen. To be seen, maybe, as a symbol of continuity. He was the leader of the Protectorate.
Superman stood at the podium, cape stirring faintl...
2025-05-20 12:14:50 +0000 UTC View PostTaylor Hebert watched with thinly veiled disbelief as the man strolled into the gym like he’d just stumbled off a beach in Maui. Flip-flops slapped against the scuffed floor with each step, and his Hawaiian shirt looked like it had lost a fight with a box of orange highlighters. Shorts hung loosely from his hips, showing off tanned legs that definitely didn’t belong in Brockton Bay at this ...
2025-05-19 18:18:27 +0000 UTC View PostBakuda had a plan.
Not a normal villain plan—oh no.
This was art. This was madness. This was a doctoral thesis in terrain violation dressed up as a minefield.
She wasn’t kidding. The ground ahead of her was laced with every exotic explosive her deranged, hyper-intelligent brain could sketch into existence during an over-caffeinated fugue state:
Quant...
2025-05-18 06:19:49 +0000 UTC View PostThe night howled.
Wind screamed through shattered windows and down crumbling alleyways. Somewhere beyond the skyline, firelight painted the sky in furious reds and molten gold.
Brockton Bay was burning.
Taylor crouched behind a cracked concrete wall, heart rattling inside her chest like something caged and furious. Sirens wailed. Screams echoed from unseen places. And over it ...
2025-05-17 09:07:02 +0000 UTC View PostThe first time Taylor had fought Hookwolf, she’d been desperate—still new to her power, still unsure of what she could do, let alone control the ones she was aware of. Back then, she’d bled. Fled. Survived by inches.
This time was different.
This time, she was calm. Focused.
Gallant had taken a step back the moment she pulled free from his grasp—an unspoken acknowledgm...
2025-05-16 07:45:45 +0000 UTC View PostChristie hadn’t screamed when the building came down.
She remembered that, distantly—how strange it was, how quiet she’d been as the world crumbled around her. The windows blew inward first, shards of safety glass glittering like confetti under the sunlight. Then the floor lurched sideways. Then the walls groaned, and the ceiling gave out, and gravity took her.
They pulled her...
2025-05-16 05:00:07 +0000 UTC View PostThe abandoned trainyard had been empty for years. Rusted tracks curled up from the ground like old bones, and the chain-link fence surrounding the site was more rust than steel, torn open in so many places it barely counted as a boundary.
The abandoned trainyard had been empty for years. Rusted tracks curled up from the ground like old bones, and the chain-link fence surrounding the site ...
2025-05-15 11:52:24 +0000 UTC View PostThe television in the electronics shop window cracked mid-broadcast. A second later, the ground shuddered beneath Taylor’s feet.
No dramatic music swelled. No splash of lightning with the accompanying boom of thunder announced what was coming. Just the blunt, clinical voice of the emergency broadcast system:
“This is an Emergency PRT Alert. All citizens in the downtown area are ...
2025-05-14 06:50:27 +0000 UTC View PostHey. So, quick rundown: I’ve been working on an original story for someone over the last couple of months, but they ended up backing out. That means I’ve got time now and I’m open to writing a full-length novel—original or fanfic—for anyone who’s interested. Just hit me up if you’ve got something in mind.
2025-05-13 12:46:38 +0000 UTC View PostEidolon had to die.
The Path offered no branches, no alternatives. No clean resolution that allowed him to live. Just the single, immutable line that began with her stepping through the door and ended with the sound of a gunshot echoing in the small, steel-lined transport truck.
It was the only way.
Fortuna mourned. Contessa acted.
The video of Eidolon’s battle with Su...
2025-05-13 05:20:23 +0000 UTC View PostFrom the shadows of the rooftop across the street, Taylor watched people hand him items. They didn’t act like criminals, didn’t look like thugs, and didn’t seem
From the shadows of the rooftop across the street, Taylor watched people hand him items. They didn’t act like criminals, didn’t look like thugs, and didn’t seem like anyone who looked like they needed to bribe or appea...
2025-05-13 04:00:07 +0000 UTC View PostThe warehouse stank of sweat, rust, and wet fur, the kind of cloying mixture rot that stuck to your skin and made your lungs feel heavy. The metal walls were lined with makeshift cages, each one barely welded together from old fencing and scrap. At least four dogs whimpered in the corners, their eyes wide with fear, ribs visible through matted fur.
Taylor didn’t wait.
The moment s...
2025-05-12 19:04:00 +0000 UTC View PostEidolon hit the ground again, skidding across concrete and metal until he crashed through the remains of a half-collapsed loading dock. Steam hissed from ruptured pipes. Rebar twisted from the impact.
He groaned, dragging himself upright, cape in tatters, face bloodied beneath the remnants of his shattered mask. One arm hung limp, dislocated or worse.
Above him, Superman hovered. Fr...
2025-05-11 06:57:41 +0000 UTC View PostBrockton Bay never really slept, not even in its quietest hours. Sirens still echoed in the distance. Dogs barked and growled at passers-by, and even the wind whooshed and howled as the chill of the earlier rain bit through the layers she wore.
Taylor sat on the edge of an old billboard, hunched in silence. Her swarm formed lazy orbits around her—not alert, not agitated, just ther...
2025-05-10 04:00:05 +0000 UTC View PostTaylor didn’t mean to become an urban legend.
She just wanted to patrol in peace—hoodie up, jeans on, hands jammed in her pockets like she was perpetually disappointed in the entire city. Which, to be fair, she kind of was.
But word got out.
Not about Taylor Hebert. Not about the teenage girl who could obliterate buildings with a single punch.
No.
About Bal...
2025-05-09 07:54:19 +0000 UTC View PostThe patrol vest felt like a formality. Taylor adjusted the strap in the PRT locker room, fingers working through the motion automatically. Her forcefield brushed faintly against the fabric, simmering with subtle resistance, as if the energy around her rejected the extra layers, finding them superfluous.
But her mind wasn’t on the vest. Or the patrol. Or even Gallant, who waited by...
2025-05-09 07:05:43 +0000 UTC View PostThe PRT building in downtown Brockton Bay looked less of a headquarters and more of a civic institution, even with its thick concrete walls, reinforced glass, armored checkpoints, and an overabundance of eyes watching from above. Gojo walked past the front desk without a word. No one stopped him.
Security checkpoints short-circuited. Security feeds glitched out. Metal detectors failed to ...
2025-05-08 09:05:33 +0000 UTC View PostThe alley reeked.
Piss, old grease, rotting fast food, and blood—metallic and fresh. Too fresh.
Taylor crouched behind the rusted husk of an abandoned SUV, her breath fogging in the cold. Within the matted mess that was her hair, her insects pulsed like a second heart, restless.
Ahead, the Merchants had made a makeshift camp in the shadow of the collapsed overpass. Som...
2025-05-07 04:00:07 +0000 UTC View PostReconstruction teams had just finished stabilizing the northwest wing of the ruined high school. Hard hats glinted under the overcast sky. Welders disengaged their torches, their work temporarily paused. The skeletal frame of the building loomed behind them—blackened brick, rusted beams, broken glass—a reminder of what had been. A crane creaked as it maneuvered a steel beam into position.&n...
2025-05-06 08:24:31 +0000 UTC View PostThe plan was simple.
Crude, even.
A battered street on Brockton Bay’s northern edge, half-abandoned. Cracked sidewalks. Dying neon signs. Immigrant families crammed into tenement buildings, clinging to routine like it might save them. Small businesses struggling to stay afloat under the weight of extortion, protection money, and threats passed down like heirlooms.
The kind o...
2025-05-06 05:06:56 +0000 UTC View PostDirector Emily Piggot sat at the head of the long table in the briefing room like a slab of granite given shape—broad-shouldered, unsmiling, unmoved. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and her jaw was locked in a way that suggested the only thing holding back a verbal onslaught was the thin veneer of protocol.
She stared at the assembled team: Miss Militia at parade rest, Ass...
2025-05-05 07:55:15 +0000 UTC View PostUpdates will return to the regular schedule starting tomorrow. So be sure to check the UPDATES TIMETABLE to see when your favorite stories are getting new chapters every week.
I’m also open for commissions—whether you’re looking for original fiction or fanfiction. Feel free to DM me here or on SpaceBattles (@OnAHiatus) if you’re interested or have any questions. 2025-05-04 12:15:22 +0000 UTC View Post
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Taylor sat at the PRT conference table, flanked by half the Protectorate, two visiting Thinkers from Watchdog, and a parahuman psychologist wearing three layers of Kevlar and the expression of a woman who had seen some things.
Miss Militia cleared her throat carefully. “You’re… not a parahuman.”
Taylor nodded. “Correct.”
Legend leaned forward. “Then how are you t...
2025-05-03 11:56:44 +0000 UTC View PostAfter he’d admitted he wasn’t from Earth Bet—but some other Earth entirely—and after she’d given him curt directions to the PRT building, Taylor hadn’t expected to see him again.
She especially didn’t expect to find him hanging upside down, webbed beneath a crumbling highway overpass like some kind of human bat. Or more accurately, some kind of human spider.
"You...
2025-05-03 11:21:44 +0000 UTC View Post