In the back of her mind, Taylor was happy there was at least one girl somewhere with a chest more diminutive than hers. The demon's was practically flat, just barely puffing out a little bit.Her hands and arms were covered with a soft-looking fur, a deep black with a reddish sheen that matched her ears. Her gaze lowering, she spotted the demon's belly.
It was rather swollen. There was also a rather stylish heart tattoo, just under the bellybutton.
`Demons have bellybuttons...?'
Below that was another square bit of paper, neatly covering her pussy.
And, of course, there was a tail. It was similar to a cat's, aside from what looked like a stiff protrusion at the end. It's fur matched the rest of her body, as well as the fur on her legs, which started mid-thigh and ended at her feet.
Taylor blinked a bit, her brain catching up a bit. Pulling herself up into a sitting position, she looked at the (oddly cute) demon.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but apparently I summoned a demon, you, passed out in the attempt, grew a cock-" at which point Taylor gazed down at said member, still hard and pointing back up at her, practically waving. It was kind of huge, reaching up to her ribs easily, and she noticed the rather large balls under it as well.
"Okay, a really big cock, then you proceeded to— to-"
"Give you a blowjob?" the demon said helpfully.
Taylor nodded, "Yes, that. And now we're here."
The demon girl nodded, a smile revealing just slightly pronounced fangs. "Yep!"
Taylor nodded in return, "Ah, I thought so."
The two remained silent for a minute.
The demon blinked after another minute passed, walking up to Taylor. Touching her slightly, she sighed, watching her tip back onto her bed, out cold.
"Oh, jeez, after all that work to just wake her up too..."
Tattletease: Post Bank
(Автор: doomlord9)
So had another minor thought on Tattletease.
Her 'costume' will probably weaken her power quite abit. Well, not weaken really. It'll be as strong as it ever is but the effectiveness will be much less than in canon.
==Post-Bank Scene==
Victoria flying home while carrying Amy "...Ames? Are you ok?"
Amy blinks and looks at her "Ummm...yeah? Why?"
"Well you've been so quiet...is what Tattletale said still bothering you?"
Amy blushes and mumbles something.
"Hmmm? I couldn't understand that."
"I said I....I didn't hear a word she said..."
"...oh. Oh!"
They fly on in awkward silence together for abit.
"Soooo.....I think Cathrine said she was free this weekend if you're interested...or maybe Lisa!"
"VICKY! That's not....I'm not...and who is Lisa? I don't remember anyone at school named Lisa."
"Oh, it's some girl I met while shopping at the Boardwalk. She was looking at me alot while we talked and she is blond and pretty I guess"
"VICKY! You can't just set me up with some random girl off the street! She might be dangerous!"
"Oh hush, it's my job as your big sister to protect you from being seduced by villains and she looks kinda like Tattletale so time is of the essence! Besides, what are the chances that the one girl I pick happens to be the villain making you so distracted you haven't noticed we have circled our house three times already!"
Amy just blushes in silence as they come in for a landing.
Intrepid: additional scenes
(автор: MrGazzer)
It Is Day Somewhere
Do you ever wonder what it's like to die?
It's a shock.
Something about the sudden feeling of Not Being.
It's always a shock.
Even more so when you just get up twelve seconds later. Exactly twelve seconds, every time. No matter the damage. No matter what is done.
Brained in the head with a rock. Dead. Back in twelve seconds.
Killed in a battle against Roman expansionists bent on killing heathens. Back in twelve seconds.
The First Crusade.
The Second.
The Sixth.
The Tenth. Back in twelve seconds.
Gas Chambers, Burning, Gunshot Wounds Decapitation Vaporization, the list goes on.
Back in twelve seconds.
My name is Omri.
My name, in the language of my birth, means Life. Or Servant, depending who you're asking.
That's all I've got, in the end. Life.
I've had it for a very long time.
A short time ago, fifty years, by my reckoning I decided to be a hero. Who better then a man who had nothing to fear? Whose death was a inconvenience, whose presence could bring a cold and thick fog that weighed heavy on your very bones. Who could track you by scent to the ends of the earth. Who didn't need to sleep, or eat. Who never tired. Never bored. Always just behind you. Someone, Something, to fear. A fear mostly forgotten in modern times. The Fear of the Hunted.
A way to honor my long lost family. To be a hero. To atone for a very long, very sorted past, with a five hundred year period of hedonistic debauchery.
At least.
That's what my memories tell me. The longer set. The clearer set.
The other, so much shorter, so much fuzzier but just as...real, insisted that Omri was not my name.
Omri was a fiction.
Omri was a character, invented for a game of heroes and villains. Mutants and Masterminds. Retired after the gimmick got old. After there stopped being a challenge for The Unkillable Omri.
I wasn't sure which memories I wanted to believe.
"Sir? Sir? Are you alright?" The boy asked, a doctor or medic of some kind. "You...uh...spaced out there, for a second. Are you sure you don't want me to check you for a concussion? Even if it looks like there's no outside damage, you may-"
"I am fine, an old man like me can put up with some pain." The voice that left my lips had a mild accent, it's original tongue long evolved past recondition, it was deep, clear, and took no argument. It was my voice, said the long memory. It was a voice I imagined, said the shorter.
The doctor looked incredulous. "I'm at least twenty years older than you, besides which, you were involved in a car accident and have been unconscious for days I really think you should-"
I smiled knowingly at the doctor. "I'm older than I look. And when I say I am fine. I am fine. What hospital am I in?" I stood from the bed, feet touching cold linoleum looking intimidating despite the thin paper robe.
"Bay General, you're sure you-"
"Doctor. I refuse treatment. My Clothes?"
The doctor sighed, displeased, arms folded, his scent all but screaming his frustration. "They had to be removed to check for injury you're very lucky that-"
"I was unharmed? I am aware. On my person, did you find a key? Old fashioned thing. Keepsake, you understand."
"Well yes, it's right over there with what we could recover." He pointed to a table in the right corner of the room, resting atop it, a wallet, a passport, and a old key, made of bronze, wrapped with leather to make a sort of necklace. I collect the items in question. The key slipping over my neck. "My thanks, Doctor. Have a nice day."
The doctor shouted as I walked out the door, naked but for a thin paper gown. "It's the middle of the night!"
"It is day somewhere, young man, It is always day somewhere!" I answered back, smile on my face.?
* * *
Home
The Key, is, unsurprisingly, the key.
Currently, to a fresh set of clothing. Modesty does not concern an old man like myself. Not having to put up with the police, however, is a another matter entirely.
It thrummed with warmth against my chest. Happy again to see its Guardian. Surely then, what I know must be real, if The Key is real.
It's a Key to one place that fits in any door. The place itself has had many names over the centuries, Atlantis, Dilmun, Shambhala, Edan. Some ancestral memory, of the Place creating myths and legends. It is older even than I am. The Key, in its many forms, was pasted down my line from father to son for as long as my people could remember and our memory was long.
Myself?
I called it Home.
The only place that stayed, the only place that was truly familiar, though out my years. A place I could always go.
If that's not home, what is? My shorter memory flashed to emotional outlines of a room painted blue, with rows of bookshelves. The faint calling of a name, a feeling of familial love.
The longer one had practice, dismissing nostalgia.
I walk to an alley near the hospital, and use my finger to scrape the outline a man sized rectangle into the brick, slowly, I remove The Key from my neck, and press it to faint shape. It sinks back and slides out of existence.
The sound of birdsong, from creature long thought extinct by the rest of the world. The scent of honey, wood, stone and metal. The feeling of a warm sun against my skin. I stepped through the door, it disappearing behind me, walking from night into almost noon day. Before me, a villa on a hill of soft green grass whose plans were crafted, in part, by Leonardo of Vinci. Behind me, a small bit of farm land, and beyond that a forest that I am still attempting to map, when the mood strikes me. Home at last.
Home.
Where all my clothes are.
I lost my favorite sweater in that accident, insists the shorter memory.
My longer could not recall ever being in an accident. It was never wrong. The last thing that it remembers was...was...going Home?
It is correct now, at least. But it doesn't make sense.
What happened between then, and now?
A change of clothes and then I do something I've never done. Retrace my steps.
"Oh..." I mutter to myself, a small personal smile forming on my lips, my fingers stoke at my beard. "Something new. How exciting!"
A Study Of Purple
(Автор: volantredx)
Taylor wondered how she managed to stumble into this situation. She steadfastly did not want to use her powers, didn't want to be a hero. She knew after what happened with Emma and Sophia just how much she could hurt someone without even meaning to. That much stress, that much self-control, it was a drain just to go through the day without something going wrong. Right now though, she really wasn't seeing any sort of option.
All she wanted when she came here was to buy a Snickers. Having some strung out junkie burst in to rob the place was sadly not something she would have said was impossible, but still it wasn't even six pm yet. For god's sake the sun hadn't even gone down. The would-be robber was shaking holding the gun to the clerk, who was apparently not moving fast enough. No one knew she was here, if she slipped out it's likely no one would even see her. Even if someone did no one could know that she could have helped. No one except her of course.
'Damn conscience,' she sighed inwardly. She supposed anyone else in her position would be scared stiff, but frankly with her powers she knew that he was no threat, gun or no gun. So squaring her shoulders up she headed to the counter.
"I mean it, bitch," the robber barked. "Don't fuck me on this one."
"I'm telling you there's nothing else back here," the clerk cried, tears running down her face.
"Bullshit, all you all got safes back there. You think I won't blow you head off?"
"Please no."
"Excuse me," Taylor interjected. At her interruption the gunman whirled around to face her.
"The fuck you want?" His hands trembled as he held the gun at her.
"First I want you to stop pointing that gun at me," she said calmly. The robber gave her a perplexed look, before slowly lowering his weapon. "Cool, now lay it down on the floor and don't pick it up again."
Even more confused the man followed her orders as he put his gun on the ground. Behind him the clerk looked on in amazement.
"Now kneel down and put your hands behind your head and stay that way until the cops come and arrest you." As the junkie knelt to the ground she looked up to the astonished clerk. "You should call the cops."
"I should call the cops," she repeated shifting into a dazed state.
"But don't tell I was here," the last thing Taylor needed to deal with was having people know about this. "Then forget you ever saw me. Do you know how to erase footage from the security tapes?"
"The camera doesn't record, boss says it's too expensive."
"Oh, well that's good," she looked down at the candy bar in her hand. "I'm just going to take this, ok?"
"Ok," the clerk responded dully.
Shrugging Taylor headed back home without any hurry. Her dad wouldn't be home soon. The Ferry Restoration project usually kept him late.
Addie
(Автор: Coruscant Knave)
Taylor's eyes shot open. She was on her side in her bed, facing the wall and her shadow cast by the moonlight. The moment she woke she knew with certainty that something was wrong. She tried to suck in a calming breath, but only managed a shallow gasp. Her heart drummed loudly between her ears and quickened more when she tried to roll over. Her body rocked slightly but remained in place. The signal was sent, the muscles reacted, but the response was muted. She strained against the invisible force holding her in place and could feel it yield a bit with each attempt.
It was like something held in place by friction finally slipped free when she managed it. On her back she could breathe more easily, but her body still resisted her commands.
Peripheral vision let her see most of her small room from where she lay, but despite the evidence before her she was sure there was someone in the room with her.
There was a sensation of falling and her vision began to narrow. It seemed like both the ground was rising up around her and the sky was coming down to meet her. She wasn't sure when she had started seeing the night sky, either, but there it was. Not the night sky of the city, the pale blue-gray with a handful of pinpoints scattered about, but the universe. A view she barely recalled from childhood trips into the mountains. Even the nature camp she'd went to the summer before last had only been a few hours outside of town and couldn't compare.
The Milky Way was spilled across the sky, brilliant blues, reds, oranges and purples flowing around and through each other. And the stars... so many stars...
Space was supposed to be dark and empty, wasn't it? Yet her view was full, packed to the brim with light. She knew she must only be looking at a small portion of it — what little could fill her view — but it seemed tiny and constricting. The more she focused on how she couldn't be right, concentrated on her bed and the walls to center her, the more the feeling grew. She was trapped in the vast expanse, doomed to an inevitable fate. Stagnation. Suffocation.
That was when she noticed the wisps of smoky lines reaching down for her out of that great rift. There was one. There were twelve. There were too many to count. They were all the same.
