Ravenaelwood

MKRTTBB: Chapter One

You would not believe the number of times I had to rewrite this chapter from scratch...

Chapter One

There was a saying about frogs and boiling liquids. Something about how, if you raised the temperature slowly enough, the creatures never realised they were being cooked alive. Emily Piggot, Director of the PRT’s East-NorthEast division, sometimes wondered if the analogy applied to people as much as it did to amphibians; problems as to hot water.

They had put the three in ...

TVFTOS: Chapter Five

Chapter Five

The metal ring caught the operating theatre's harsh light, its crimson inset throwing bloody reflections across Rasa's fingers as he turned it over with methodical precision. Gold—or something remarkably similar to it—worked into a configuration his metallurgical expertise could not immediately categorise. The hawk emblem pressed into the stone was a masterwork, each feather carved with an artisan's obsessive attention. A clan heirloom, certainly. Perhaps the seal of ...

TVFTOS: Chapter Four

Chapter Four

The grief of the previous night had scoured him clean, leaving behind the cold, clear architecture of his training. Emotion was a chemical state, a hormonal tide. He had experienced it, processed it, and filed it. Now, survival was the only relevant computation.

He awoke before the false dawn, his internal chronometer precise. The world resolved into focus slowly, each sensation arriving as a discrete packet of data for analysis. The pre-dawn air surrendered its chi...

SRFMAW: Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The room was a sterile box of beige walls and unremarkable furniture, a temporary accommodation that felt more like a holding cell. It was one of a dozen identical apartments in a secure downtown building, hastily repurposed for Protectorate members displaced by the recent… incident. Hers was on the third floor of a municipal annexe that had been emptied two years ago when funding dried up. She didn’t like it, but it was not like she had much choice in the matter. Th...

RWD: 7.x (Prelude)(Parian)

7.x (Prelude)(Parian)

Hope was a strange, unfamiliar taste.

For the first time in what felt like years, Sabah woke up not to the distant sound of sirens, but to the gentle chirping of birds outside her dorm room window and the far-off sound of construction. The morning light that filtered through the blinds seemed softer, less accusatory. It had been a week since the world changed. A week since a monster that had haunted humanity for years was put down like a rabid dog on live t...

SRFMAW: Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The first coherent thought was an inventory.

Pain was a language the body spoke, and his was fluent. Conquest listened to it now, a dull and distant monologue where, not long ago, there had been a raw, screaming chorus. Fractures had been set by the marrow itself, knitting with the slow, inexorable patience of stone forming under pressure. Muscle, torn and shredded, had rewoven its fibres. The least of it, the peeling agony of degloving, was a memory sealed under new...

New Cover

Forgot about this. Had done it a while ago in anticipation of the eventual RR upload. Was working on the next chapter for TVFTOS and remembered I had it. Also, just noticed the typo. "Of" instead of "From". Will fix later. Don't want to get anymore distracted than I already have.

Edit: Couldn't help myself. Fixed.

RWD: 6.x (Interlude)(Bonesaw)

Bye-bye, Canon. Your guiding hands would be dearly missed.

6.x (Interlude)(Bonesaw)

The needle was a beautiful, delicate thing. Bonesaw held it up to the weak light filtering through the grimy window of their borrowed cabin, admiring the way it caught the grey afternoon. It was one of her special ones, spun from a carbon lattice and coated in a paralytic agent that was both fast-acting and temporary. It wouldn’t do to have the patient thrashing about, but she needed the nerves...

RWD: NO_ROLLBACK: 6.10 

NO_ROLLBACK: 6.10 

(Tattletale)

The headache was a familiar companion, a dull, persistent throb behind her eyes that had become the background noise to her life. Three days. It had been three solid days since Greg killed Leviathan, and Lisa hadn’t stopped working. While the others were scattered across the palatial, secluded estate—their current gilded cage—finding moments of peace and quiet triumph, she was here. Drowning in data, coordinating a dizzying array of tas...

TBOV: DAERON I

DAERON I

The wind was a constant companion at Storm’s End, a ceaseless moaning that seeped through the thick stone walls and rattled the iron-strapped shutters of his solar. It's air thick with the smell of damp salt and old beeswax, a wild, untamed scent that was wholly different from the perfumed air of the Red Keep or the dry, scholarly dust of Oldtown. Even with a fire roaring in the great hearth, a persistent chill seeped from the walls, a cold that had lived in the fortre...

TBOV: AEMOND III

Peace folks. I am almost done with the remaining chapters of Arc 6 for Refrain. Decided to post this first since I had it half done.

AEMOND III

The ink on the last charter was still wet, a dark stain on the vellum that smelled of gall and wine. Aemond blotted it with a fine dusting of sand, his movements precise, mechanical. The papers were a mountain before him, the architecture of an empire laid out in figures and decrees: grain shipments from the Reach, iron tithes from the W...

Sup

Hey guys. Sorry I've been gone so long. Had some things to sort out; wasn't in the right headspace to do much on the internet. Also took some time to finish the Leviathan arc for Refrain. Still got two chapters left for this arc, but decided to post this early since they won't constitute a cliff-hanger in the middle of the arc. Everything ought to be sorted now, and I am looking to get about a week or two off from work to focus on finish the half written chapters of the other fics. Everythin...

RWD - NO_ROLLBACK: 6.09 

NO_ROLLBACK: 6.09 

(Alexandria)

The silence in the aftermath of the battle was a heavy, suffocating thing, punctuated only by the distant wail of sirens and the groan of stressed metal.  She stood in the hastily repurposed National Guard base miles from the heart of the battle—now the secondary staging area—flanked by scattered tables, ringing cell phones, coffee pots empty and forgotten, capes and soldiers alike moving in a slow, uncertain dance. Outside, a sky st...

RWD - NO_ROLLBACK: 6.08 

NO_ROLLBACK: 6.08 

(Martha Veder)

The rhythmic clatter of the pill dispenser was the metronome of Martha’s afternoon. It was a soothing, familiar sound. The sound of order, of precision, of problems being neatly solved and placed into small plastic bottles. In this sterile world of clean white counters, amber vials, and the faint, antiseptic scent of isopropyl alcohol, the chaos of the outside world felt distant, manageable. She spent most of her days on her feet, consult...

RWD - NO_ROLLBACK: 6.07 

NO_ROLLBACK: 6.07 

(Glory Girl)

The air atop the skyscraper was thick with a tension that felt heavier than the storm-choked clouds overhead. Below, the city had become a theatre of chaos, a sprawling stage for the brutal ballet between man and monster. From this height, the sounds of battle were a muted roar, a constant, grinding percussion that vibrated through the soles of Victoria’s boots. She stood a careful distance from the edge, her arms crossed, watching the man ...

RWD: NO_ROLLBACK: 6.06 

NO_ROLLBACK: 6.06 

(Hibana)

Two weeks ago.

The whine of the powered dolly echoed down the concrete hallway, reverberating dully through the padded structure of the warehouse—his. Greg’s, Greg’s, Greg’s, Greg’s. She mouthed the word like a prayer as she watched her babies—cases of lovingly-packed illegal components, shell-packed warheads, racks of chemical canisters—rolling in through the side door. Brian and Anna muscled the last crate i...

RWD - NO_ROLLBACK: 6.05

NO_ROLLBACK: 6.05

(Armsmaster)

The wind was vicious this high up, shrieking and tearing at the edge of his helmet, droplets of cold rain striking the faceplate in rapid succession. The rooftop air was thick with ozone and the promise of violence. Rain, driven by a wind that tasted of salt and distant catastrophe, slicked the helipad's painted circle. Colin’s gauntlets gripped the haft of his halberd, the composite material cool and familiar against the powered armour.  2025-10-01 14:06:47 +0000 UTC View Post

RWD - NO_ROLLBACK: 6.04

NO_ROLLBACK: 6.04

(Skitter)

Fluorescent lights flickering in the high ceiling. The low buzz of forced air from vents humming faintly in the background. Rows of plastic chairs, a handful of security booths, the silent, hulking forms of bulletproof glass and dull steel doors with card readers set into the walls.

The lobby of the PRT’s ENE Headquarters didn’t look much like a fortress, at least not at first glance. It was a sterile, impersonal space of polished gray floor...

RWD - NO_ROLLBACK: 6.03 

I adjusted my visor again. Third time in five minutes. The workshop's familiar ozone-and-metal smell should have helped, but my nerves weren't having it.

NO_ROLLBACK: 6.03 

(Kid Win)

I adjusted my visor again. Third time in five minutes. The workshop's familiar ozone-and-metal smell should have helped, but my nerves weren't having it.

The message had been simple: briefing with federal representatives, New Wave, and the Peacekeepers. Just me. Not the other Wards....

RWD - NO_ROLLBACK: 6.02 

Mercifully outside the smog-choked confines of Brockton Bay, the estate sprawled across thirty acres of manicured New England countryside, all rolling hills, manicured lawns and artfully placed copses of trees. A winding driveway hid the gate from the house, and the house, in turn, hid its occupants from the road.

NO_ROLLBACK: 6.02 

(Regent)

Mercifully outside the smog-choked confines of Brockton Bay, the estate sprawled across thirty acres of manicured New England co...

RWD - NO_ROLLBACK: 6.01 

The Medhall building was a monument to a dead empire. Emily felt the ghost of Kaiser in the ostentatious lobby, in the gaudy red-and-yellow crown logo etched into the marble floor, and in the sterile, echoing silence. It was a place built on crime, laundered money, and supremacist ideology, now reduced to a neutral, hollow space for a meeting she would have given a kidney to avoid. If she’d had any left to give.

NO_ROLLBACK: 6.01 

(Emily Piggot)

The Medhall building...

SRFMAW: Chapter One

Chapter One 

tick-tock.

tick-tock.

3:47 PM said the small table clock. The phone on her desk buzzed once. 

Not her civilian line, not Alexandria’s, but the secure one, the one that meant the call was neither optional nor convenient. Rebecca closed the file she had been pursuing, laid her pen down and picked up the device. Sighing, she pressed the receiver to her ear.

“Doctor,” she said.

“Good afternoon, Rebecca.” Calm...

Stand Ready For My Arrival, Worm!

After getting his ass handed to him by Plot Armour and Deus Ex Machina—and spontaneously isekai'ing as a result—Conquest took the L, dusted himself off, and decided Earth BET looked like the perfect place for some soul-searching and good old-fashioned Viltrumite therapy.

Prologue

Pain.

The memory surfaced like bile, acrid and unwelcome. Pain. Pain. Pain… Sharp and visceral, cutting through centuries of accumulated indifference. Conquest's first sensation was pain. No...

Refrain: 6.x (Prelude)(Dragon)

She had a drone at a legal altitude above the PRT ENE building, logging traffic patterns and correlating license plates against a database.

6.x (Prelude)(Dragon)

She had a drone at a legal altitude above the PRT ENE building, logging traffic patterns and correlating license plates against a database. She had a light industrial frame loitering in the motor pool, disguised as a vehicle charger. She had no fewer than seventeen feeds from cameras that were pointed at entrances, wait...

Miss Kobayashi's Road Trip To Brockton Bay

Cosy chaos meets cape noir as a Japanese salarywoman, her overprotective dragon maid, and the perpetually peckish Kanna stumble headlong onto the cape scene of Brockton Bay—a hard-edged hero city where paperwork bites, villains circle, and getting home means righting a few local wrongs.

Prologue

Morning slid into the apartment like a cat: unhurried, curious, determined to sit somewhere inconvenient.

Today was one of those rare Saturdays where everyone had somehow ended u...

TVFTOS: Chapter Three

They ran until the sun lowered itself, the sky shading to bronze and then mauve. Heat became a leaching chill. In the high thin air, sound

Chapter Three

They ran until the sun lowered itself, the sky shading to bronze and then mauve. Heat became a leaching chill. In the high thin air, sound did not carry; their passage was a kind of silence, punctuated only by the soft percussion of landing steps and the whisper of cloth. Paul watched the land scroll by: dunes like frozen waves,...

TVFTOS: Chapter Two

Chapter Two

His thoughts moved with the sluggish precision of machinery long unused, each synapse firing with deliberate care.

The first data arrived through his senses in an ordered sequence: A rhythm. A body moving under him—no, carrying him—his own weight slung in the crook of another’s arm. Each footfall transmitted through coarse fabric into the meat of his side. There was the scrape of rough-woven cloth against his bare skin, the faint rasp of thread like sand on sto...

TVFTOS: Chapter One

P.S.:

This was partially rewritten and separated from the Prologue. Refer to the prologue for more details.

Chapter One

Consciousness returned not as a sunrise, but as the flicker of a faulty lumen. A dull, throbbing heat. A tongue like cured leather.

He was in the desert.

The thought was simple, elemental. The sun was a malevolent eye in a bleached sky. He was alone.

Mother.

The name was a silent prayer. She is safe. She left ...