Stories by Indigo
"The Last Bug
Tragedy befalls Nightcrawler and Rogue when they take a vacation to Hawaii together
and run into the Brood.
Sinister and the Marauders try to atone for their past crimes -- through housecleaning.
"Recipe for a
Really Bad Day"
Takes place sometime after the X-Men's battle with Alpha Flight in UXM 355.
Scott takes the PMS-striken Rogue, Jean and Psylocke to the DMV to renew their
by Any Other Name"
Rogue calls a team meeting to finally reveal her real name.
A number of poems written by the prolific fanficstress about the skunk-striped
elsewhere in Alykat's World:
The World is
When the Avengers get involved with the satellite launch of X-Men #80, something
goes wrong, reverting all the X-Men back to childhood.
(at The Danger Playpen)
The Hellfire Club, Xavier's and the Massachusetts Academy all vie for the
right to contact a mutant whose powers have just manifested, and Bobby and Emma,
leaders of two of those contingents, explore some unresolved issues.
Web site: http://www.indigosky.net
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Oh, it's only a phase I'm going through,
convenient excuse to explain away
the fool things that I sometimes do,
the stupid things I say.
It was just a phase that I went through,
I threw myself at him one day,
But then I told you "I love you"
Then like a scared kid, ran away.
A life less ordinary, this
You'd think it would all average out
Intangible, until we kiss
And that is what I most will miss
Your touch that I must do without
In ignorance, phased out my bliss.
Blinded and burned, my soul torn apart
Betrayed by myself, lost in your embrace
Tears spilling forth from the wound in my heart
Accompanied by memories of grief on your face.
Lost in a maelstrom, my hope swept away
Sundered my dreams with winter's cruel touch.
If wishes were real, then beside me you'd lay.
Forgetting the secrets we cared for too much.
Had I only known where this road would have led,
Some brief premonition of what we face now,
this loss far too great, this turmoil in my head
Rather die than repeat, this is my vow.
Winter's chill finger has cleaved us in twain.
Bloody snow, lonely nights. Two lovers in pain.
What voice do you hear, my love, in the soft pitter-pat of
Your own voice in regret, or mine asking why?
In the song of the wind, hear me sobbing in pain?
Does the dance of the leaves make you cry?
Whose voice do you hear, my love, when the
sky's full of thunder and rain?
Her voice saying nothing, so you'd believe lies?
When the blinding fog gathers, does the feeling remain?
See my face in the clouds? Do you sigh?
The caress of the rain on my skin in the air
Can wash away these questions for a time.
Of my heart, foolish heart, must I ever beware.
But I wonder, and sometimes this changes the
What our lives would be like, had we shared.
We're apart, with no reason, no rhyme.
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