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Bewitching Wanda

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Wednesday, April 14th, 2004
9:04 pm - "Delightfully Tacky Yet Unrefined"
The good news:
-the shoes are comfortable
-the other girls are nice
-the shorts don't ride too far up my ass
-I don't look bad in orange
-truckers tip well

The bad news:
-...I need to shower for a while.

edit: in other good news: guess what's on Friiiidaaaay..

current mood: dirty

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Monday, April 12th, 2004
4:30 pm - gainfully employed, check me out
I um got a job at Hooters. apparently it's not all about chest size, it's more about figure and personality. I'm 'perky' and making nine bucks an hour.

at first I thought 'maybe I won't need to get a job, I can give money from the money pot.' but since then I have discovered that the daddy credit card is dead and so is the cell phone plan. petey-pie, yours are trashed too? I wonder if he's dead yet, he's supposed to be goddamn dead by now.

earth is still so earthy. I missed bad tv. like, vh1. I'm gonna watch a lot of vh1 (tv's all over my work are a plus.)

I should call Cap. I'm not ready to go back to the Avengers, I don't know if I'll ever wanna go back, but he should at least know I'm back on his plane of existance and safe. he'd wanna know.

does anyone wanna sneak into a movie?(cannot wait to get paycheck and be able to pay for things.) something really bad, campy bad, earth bad. like scooby doo 2, or the girl next door. movies?

current mood: cheerful

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Monday, September 29th, 2003
8:52 pm - a beginning and an end
"Mail's here!" Theresa called up the stairs from the big brass box on the wall by the front doors. Dub perked up and shot out of her room toward the foyer. She found Theresa leafing through each letter and reading who they were for.
"Anything for me?" she asked, trying not to sound eager.
"Uh-huh," said Theresa without looking up and she handed Dub a white envelope with an American flag design snaking across it from the return address spot.
Dub rushed back up to her room without thanking Theresa and tore the letter open. She shut her door and sat cross legged on her bed, hungrily reading the words under the fancy letterhead.

Dear Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch),

I have recently spoken to Robert Frank (Whizzer) and he told me about your question. I hope you don't mind, but he showed me your letter. I was moved by your sentiment about wanting to be one of the good guys. I understand what it feels like to question what side you belong on. I also understand the feeling that fills a person with the need to be a hero.

I have heard about your history and I am impressed by descriptions of your ability to use your powerful mutation. Mr. Frank was impressed as well and together we have decided to extend a rather unique invitation to you. This is an opportunity that only comes around once in a lifetime.

The Avengers are an elite group of mutants and other gifted individuals who want to use their gifts in a heroic fashion for the betterment of world affairs. Our numbers are small at the moment, but our determination and ability are unmatched. The team agrees with me that you would be a powerful asset to the Avengers and I would like the pleasure of inviting you to join us.

We would also like to know if you brother, Quicksilver, would be interested in this opportunity as well. Ask him about it and tell him to get in touch with us if he would also like to be on our team.

Please call our headquarters as soon as you get this with a response. Our number and my personal extension are in the letterhead.

Yours sincerely.

Steve Rogers, Captain America

PS- One of our ranks says he has met you before. His name is Clint Barton (Hawkeye). I've enclosed a photo. Recognize him?

Dub let out the breath she'd been holding as she read. This was not what she expected. First of all, she expected her ex-step-father to respond personally. But it wasn't such a surprise that he delegated the job out, he'd always been a little wary of her.
A team. A team with goals and motives and they thought she was powerful and useful and she'd be DOING something. She glanced back at the post script and fished in the envelope for the photo.

The PhotoCollapse )

Pietro whistled. "Wow. Wow-wow-wowie-wow. He's an slice of yummy-pie." The pair was fond of stating the obvious.
"Isn't he?! And apparently he met me. Even better he remembers me!" She took the photo back from her brother and continued to stare at it as she had since she'd taken it from the envelope. She frowned. "Wish I remembered him..."
The two were sitting across from each other on the comfy green couch in the common room. They both had their legs crossed.
"Are you going to do it?" he asked her. She'd read him the letter out loud as soon as she had found him. She was nervous about telling him what she'd decided. She'd considered acting like her mind wasn't made up yet but in truth, she'd made her decision before she'd opened the envelope. She'd made it before Theresa yelled up the stairs, she'd made it before she'd woken up that morning, she'd made it leaning against a dumpster in New York City three weeks ago.
"Yeah. I'm going to do it." Biting her lip, she asked him, "Do you want to do it?"
He slowly shook his head. They looked at each other, two pairs of blue eyes reflecting off each other, bouncing brilliance back and forth. He was a nester. She was a bird. It had been that way with them since they'd come into the world. Together, they were wet and scared and screaming. Not much had changed since then, if you think about it.
Dub let out another big breath and sank down to curl up with her head on her brother's leg. She propped the photo up in front of her where she could continue to gaze at it. He stroked her hair like he always did and she felt for a second or two everything was perfect, like she always did.
"I'm going to be a hero, Pie," she murmured, closing her eyes.
He leaned down close to her so that she could feel his breath on her cheek in whispered, "You've always been my hero."
There's no need to go into details about who cried, who laughed, and who said they'd help their twin pack but ended up just sitting with them and watching cartoons.

She called Steve Rodgers from Xavier's office. Xavier was very supportive considering she was flouting his institution and wished her luck. They shared a friendly smile. When he saw her for the last time, he hoped she'd found her niche, and wished he could have done more to help her.

"You'll know if I'm trouble," she rambled, "and you'll call if you hear anything about Raven or Talia. If Magnus dies I'll call you first. I'll call when I get to Phoenix, it should take me three or four days. I have my cell phone-". She stopped short, tears springing to her eyes as she got a good look at her only family in the world. Phrases like ‘Take care of yourself', ‘Keep in touch', and even ‘I love you' all seemed inadequate. Dub had a private theory that she and Pietro weren't siblings, weren't twins. They were two halves of the same person.
Pietro smiled, "Think nothing of it, Kemosabe."
Grinning back, she said "Keep the peace, Tonto," with a smile.
She stepped out of the common room for the last time. The kitchen went by the same way, and she passed out of them with pleasure. In the garage, she walked straight to a covered mound of machine in the corner. Taped to the seat was a note:

Thanks for the ride, love.

Dub smiled. He wasn't a completely heartless bastard. Her gear strapped to it, the bike roared under her and carried her off the grounds of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. It carried her out of Westchester and out of New York state. Her scarlet lips smiled when she hit the highway. For once her road was right ahead of her, and there was no shadow over her shoulder.

current mood: peaceful

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Sunday, September 21st, 2003
1:38 am - he sighed "perfect" in my ear last night
I feel a little out of my league, to be honest. I can match him in sex appeal and appetite, that's not an issue. but at subtlety, I fail. I'm one for saying things as they are, speaking without censure. he never says how things are, only says the thing right next to it. the coy conversations stymy me. and it's not all his words, one smirk and he can make me feel sexy and juvinile at the same time.
but when the talking stops, it's so different. when the lights are out, it's like a piece of good music. it's got rhythm and power, depth and variation.
sometimes I wonder whether he's mine, or if he's just letting my borrow him for a while. sometimes i think the word "boyfriend." I know he's heard me wonder it, I've seen him smile. but he won't answer me.
what happens if I get attached? what does it mean to be "perfect"?

current mood: curious

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Monday, September 15th, 2003
7:55 pm - Oh god
she's dead, isn't she?
that's why she hasn't come back, she's dead, oh god, oh jesus. that's number three.
~~pietro, help me.~~

current mood: devestated

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Saturday, September 13th, 2003
11:59 pm - Animals
The faint early light that came through the one dingy window slid across Jack's sleeping back. At one point on his shoulder blade, the light hit so that a prism was created, scattering rainbows across Dub's face. She leaned on one elbow, the sheet tucked neatly under her arms, and watched the way the expanse of his naked back was lit. A diamond in the rough, she thought, gazing around her at the somehow charming and shabby furnishings of the room. In the raw too, and she smiled at the idea of running her hands along the swoop of his hip bone and waking him up with a surprise. She didn't though, she just watched him sleep. There was something singularly sexy about him when he couldn't use his defenses. Asleep, he couldn't push and pull her with his words like a puppy on a leash. Asleep he was passive, and glittering, and to Dub, he was beautiful.
She wished he would stay sleeping. While he was sleeping and she was watching him, she was in control. Nothing would change, no expectations wouldn't be met, and no heart's would be broken. For one beautiful moment she imagined the rest of her life, never leaving that room and forever watching him forever sleeping.
She rummaged in her jeans, which had been ripped off her and flung near the mattress, and pulled out a sharpie. Lightly, she started to trace out letters on the expanse of Jack's naked back. She added little decorative touches to her lettering and smiled at the body art as he began to stir.
"What are you doing, Miss Maximoff?" he asked, his voice thick with the morning. He started to roll over but she gently pressed his shoulder back onto the sheets and he did not resist her.
"I'm writing on your back." He smiled to himself, still charmed by her habit of stating the obvious.
"Writing your secrets in a place where I can't read them?"
"Hush, canvases don't talk." He couldn't see her bite her lip, but all the same he felt that she was, and enjoyed the cute little serious expression on her face. She put on the final touches while his torso rose and fell under her pen. After the final stroke, she gently blew all over her lettering to dry the ink. A strong shiver started between Jack's shoulder blades and flowed up and down him into his head and his hips.
"It says," she told him, capping her pen, "‘All bark and all bite.'" She nipped behind his ear with a little growl to emphasize her point.
He answered her with a full, throaty growl, and this time he pushed her shoulder to the mattress as he rolled Dub on her back and hovered above her. She let out a short shriek of her unique laugh before she went serious and stared back into his eyes.
His intense gaze didn't intimidate her anymore. She knew him from the inside out, she'd run her hands over his secrets and dipped herself into his intimacy. Her mischievous little smile crept onto her face. "And girls," she crooned, "they call them the Diamond Dogs."

current mood: awake

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Thursday, September 11th, 2003
7:45 pm - narrative [5]
ongoing coverage is a terrible concept. stretching out an event so that someone has to keep watching. interrupting Friends every five minutes to remind people something awful has happened.
dub clicks the mute button on the remote. the remote her father used to call to from across the room and it would fly to him to do what he wanted. the third installment of the "ongoing coverage" goes silent.
she runs her fingers into her hair and lets her forehead rest on her palms and her elbows rest on her knees.
somehow, 'he's still alive' isn't comforting or distressing. just confusing, and she closes her eyes. for one dazzling moment of clarity, the remote on the cushion next to her becomes her sister, and she bonds with it. they share the need to answer the call, fly to him, and do what he wanted.
she shakes her head to clear it and pulls her knees up under her chin. the silence is ringing in her ears, and someone upstairs is playing undefined far-away music.
she shouldn't watch tv.

current mood: bewildered

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Wednesday, September 10th, 2003
10:34 pm - yoohoo
for JackCollapse )

current mood: scarlet

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Tuesday, September 9th, 2003
7:37 pm - I've dance a bit before, dot dot dot
I don't know about this dance thing. I didn't go the prom because I was in paris with my father, from what I heard I didn't really miss a "magical time" or anything. it might be nice to feel like an average teenager though. nice to care about lipstick and high heels for once, instead of heartless terrorists and a man's head splattering open on a brick wall.
according to the rules, I'm supposed to ask a boy. I've made a new, um, "friend" recently, but it doesn't seem like the dance would be quite his thing.

I haven't seen tom in a while, I wonder what he's doing saturday.

current mood: anxious

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Saturday, September 6th, 2003
2:17 pm
of all the places I've lived: this is the only one I remember my way back to.

it's nice to have choices made for me.
it's not nice to have someone you don't living in your room when you get back to it.

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Tuesday, September 2nd, 2003
10:31 pm - Done: A Narrative
She walked out of the hotel room without an explanation and without taking any of her stuff with her.
Wandering the street lamp lit streets she had one thought in her head: she was done. She didn't even know what it meant, but as she scuffed the toes of her boots along the sidewalk she knew it was true, she was finished. She was just DONE. With all of it. She was tired.

She remembered their trip to Paris together. She thought of one specific restaurant they ate in, how fancy it had been. She'd worn a dress, and he'd made pleasant fun of her for her unusually girlie appearance. She closed her eyes and saw that restaurant clearly in her mind as she slip down to sit with her back against a dumpster. She wished she could cry about it. She just didn't know how.

She needed a place to be now, but where? She'd left every place she'd ever been. She felt a real need to pick her own place this time, not to have someone else pick for her. "Where?" she breathed to herself, and got a twitchy feeling like she needed a cigarette, but she doesn't smoke.

She could always go back. Back to the Brotherhood, back to the School, back the the FoH. The last seemed somehow appealing to her. Memories of the blue-eyed boy aside, she could go and not think, a little lab rat under sedation, let them burn the mutant right out of her. Little good it did her.

When she'd seen the men rush at the car, she felt an intense white hot surge. After that she didn't remember what she'd hit specifically. She saw part of a wall crumble, she saw a car flipped over and in flames, and most vividly and often, she saw a man hit a wall at great speed and just splatter. By the time she'd been pulled from the fight, the bullet-wound on her arm had busted open again.

She masaged the sore and bandaged bicep as she thought about what she'd done. I killed someone, she couldn't escape that thought. She stood up from the dumpster, kept walking, not knowing where, and wondered if they'd won.

It doesn't matter, she concluded. I'm done.

current mood: restless

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Saturday, August 30th, 2003
1:02 pm - Outside the city
Dub examined Rogue across the diner table. As she chewed on the end of her plastic straw, she considered whether or not her traveling-mate was wearing a bra. In her usual frank manner, she asked, "Are you mad at me?"
Rogue looked up from her hamburger and raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"You seem cranky."
"I've been sleeping in a car." The girls went quiet again. Rogue tried to get their minds on business. "Who do you know in the city, we need a starting point."
Dub pondered hard, destroying her straw. Memory was not her strong suit. "There was this kid Ryan. I'm not sure if he's around anymore, he left when I did, but he knew some mutants."
Rogue shugged. "It's a place to start, you know where he lived?"
"Yeah, I do, I made up a rhyme about how to find the street." She then finished off her soda from the cup, since her straw was dead.
"Good." Rogue stared off into space again.
"Just call him again," Dub said, being more perceptive than she seems.
"Hm?" Rogue looks at her, startled from her thoughts.
"Call Alex again. He can only be helpful, maybe he knows people."
Rogue nods. "Okay. Yeah." Then, "Are you finished?" as she looked at Dub's plate.
"Yep, I'm done. Let's dash."
Both girls casually stood, and walked out the door without paying the check.

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Thursday, August 28th, 2003
1:39 pm - getting gone
the decision seemed sudden to her, another lighting-fast thought process and she's made up her mind. but really it had been a long time coming.
when you spend your childhood constantly running and hiding from people, it messes you up a bit. some can move on from it and feel extreme satisfaction at finally being able to stay in one place. like her brother. but she still had the itch, the feeling that any moment, an enemy would round the corner behind her and she would pay dearly for staying put too long.
the itch had been building for a month, and finally, she was going to scratch it.
this was only the first week of classes, but somehow in a few days she had compiled enough doubt and frustration to drive her away. away and out.
the final straw had come yesterday. her classes were either difficult for her or pointless. and seeing rogue in English only reminded her of the lies. she saw rogue as the first person there who'd been honest with her. she dwelt on it, the deception she felt from pietro and raven, until her afternoon training. then, it became too much. too much restriction, too many rules, too much itch and need to let loose the scarlet fire and just, well, fuck something up.
she brought all her concerns and frustrations to her mom, one of two people she trusted, and that's when it all became so clear. Raven and Pietro loved her, but they had kept a part of herself from her. and, they loved so many people more than her. Raven would never love her the way she loved TJ.
it dawned on her, in the kitchen, in her sweatpants. the one person who had let her develop her powers, who had loved her like he loved no other, who was gone from her now.
not gone for long.
she was already packing when rogue knocked on her door. the girls seemed to understand each other without having to say very much. they both HAD to know. it was an intense and desperate NEED to know that flowed between them and they settled the details.
at seven oclock, when the rest of the mansion started waking up, they were long gone.

current mood: restless

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Monday, August 25th, 2003
10:07 pm
I made a decision tonight. If I can't fuck Lance, I can at least fuck with Lance.

Rogue's in my English class. We have more in common than I would have thought.

training was an experience. it was all talk about how magic is a gift that comes with responsibility. no mention of the fact that magic is also a gift that comes with kabooms and no mention of actually exercising my powers so I'll have more control. I really hope it won't be ALL talking.

I love you, mom.

current mood: devious

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Friday, August 22nd, 2003
11:08 pm - Narrative 3
"You excelled at the chemistry section of the test." He seemed pleased and also like he was probing for a reason.
"Thank you," she said, shifting uncomfortably and trying to think of pink bunnies so he couldn't waltz right into her head and see where she learned chemistry.
He proved above that. "Where did you learn it? You haven't been in school for years, from what your father's told me."
Wanda worked hard to answer the question rather than getting twitchy at the mention of her father. "A meth chef explained to me the specifics of it, and a lot of what he said was on the test," she said in a strangely loud and straight-forward voice.
"Ah, yes." He was not perturbed by her answer. She narrowed her eyes and studied his face and he skimmed more of her test paper. She wondered idly if his baldness had to do with his mutation. His eyes stayed on the paper but he smiled a little. It reminded her that she was on a mission to control her thoughts in front of him, telepaths with authority made her really nervous.
"You're essay about your favorite literature is," he paused, Wanda tensed, "is questionable. You're structure is there but your sentence structure is," again he paused, she wanted to scream at him, "sporadic."
"English isn't my first language!" she blurted. Pink bunnies, pink bunnies, pink bunnies. He gave her a kind smile.
"This conference isn't meant to distress you, Wanda, I merely felt it might be helpful to discuss with you where you should focus in your studies this year." She didn't calm down but instead felt the yellow sparks behind her eyes begin their circling chant.
His eyebrows knit as her vision went pink, continually darker. She braced herself for the red, for the blast, for the screaming streak of energy that would burst from her at any moment. But suddenly, she felt a wave of calm wash over her. She felt drowsy and peaceful, and all the scarlet fire extinguished in a soft whooshing feeling. Her vision cleared and she looked at the Professor sitting across from her and looking into her eyes.
She felt violated and grateful simultaneously, in a word, confused.
"Is that all?" she asked him meekly. "I'm suddenly very tired."
"Yes, you may go. Here is your class list."
"Thank you." She walked away from his office. Her footsteps were blue, a divine rhythm and everything she saw seemed smooth, no roughness. "Bitchin'..."

current mood: exhausted

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Tuesday, August 19th, 2003
11:00 pm - Shopping with Lance and Ali
Had lots of carefree fun tonight, the mall in the evening is lovely, deserted and fun. Ali and I got Lance a bit niced up and he looks pretty good for it. I got loads of stuff for the new year all on the card dad left me with (btw, pietro, dad left us a credit card on a bottomless account. tralala!)
I got four new holes in my ears. I got one new hole in each lobe (little scarlet stars) and two silver rings in my left cartilage.
Raven's agreed to be my foster mom, I could pop, I'm so happy. I finally feel like I'm in a complete family, odd though it may be. I have my twin, my foster mom, and my..TJ. My cup runneth over. Who knew that all I needed to be happy was for my dad to abandon me again.
I'm not looking forward to the placement test, who else is taking it?

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7:32 pm - THE TRUTH (dun dun duuun!)
A letter addressed to the Proffesor and slipped under his office doorCollapse )

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Wednesday, August 13th, 2003
10:25 pm - Narrative((:Because Jules Hates Her Vacation))
Wanda wakes up on her floor, surrounded by her comforter like a bird's nest and smelling very very bad. Her eyes open slowly, sticky from dried tears and sleeping 16 hours a day. She gazes unperturbed at the strewn take out cartons that surround her on every surface and then looks for her digital clock for a bearing on the day. It tells her it's 2:37 pm, the colon calmly blinking. As she hefts herself onto one elbow she brushes lose strands of her brunette hair out of her face and realizes she badly needs a shower. She fumbles under her bed for her shower kit and a towel, feeling amazingly clearer. She finds them, drags the kit out in front of her and things go hazy again. She grins at no one, a reflex that can't help her now. The smile fades as she convinces herself of the truth and feels herself starting to cry again. He bought the shower kit for her at WalMart. It came all together, the carrying case, Pantene shampoo and conditioner, Dove body wash, and Neutrogena facial scrub. It even had a pink puffy thing to wash with and a blue plastic comb that had glitter in it.
She lets her battered black tank top and soffe shorts fall to the floor of the girl's washroom, not thinking that any girl in the mansion could walk right in and see her naked. She lets the shower run for a bit to bring up the hot water. Watching it beat onto the floor she scrutinizes the water and waits to see steam. Then she steps in and doesn't bother to close the curtain. The water feels so good she wants stick her face in a breathe it in, drowning in the clean feel. She lathers, rinses, and repeats maybe five times.
When back in her room, she surveys the destruction while still wrapped up in her scarlet towel. In addition to the general disarray and sty-like atmousphere of her possessions, her walls are covered with a crude murral painted with her fingers. She makes out a silver comet covering most of one wall that becomes silver hair on a face that's grinning. ~Brother~ it says above it in Romany when the studies her own sloppy script. next to it is a chain of blue stick figures all holding hands. The chain goes on across the door until it ends with one purple person. upon inspection she can tell that the figure had been blue and then gone over again with red. finally, above her bed, there is a giant white rose outlined in a delicate sky blue. Dub stares at it for a while, before springing into motion, throwing on the cleanest clothes she can find and whriling out of the room, leaving the wet towel in a heap. she needs to talk to proffesor xavier.

current mood: busy

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Friday, August 1st, 2003
1:07 pm - Something like a daddy
today dad made me breakfast. "a good breakfast is important, it'll improve your whole day." he can make everything in the kitchen move however he wants, so watching him cook is like an evening at Beni Hana.
pancakes, strawberries, scrambled eggs, chocolate milk.
I think he knows he's leaving again. and not inviting us.
I'm going to seek out Raven, see what she's doing today. I like her presence, it's forceful but kind, motherly that way.

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Wednesday, July 30th, 2003
12:58 am
everyone's getting packages from Hot Topic.
well I got a package too! from LL BEAN!

..I'm lying. I got nothin'.
ahhh, it's good to be manic. sudden urge to slide down the kickass banisters this mans has to offer. wheeee!
"If you wanna go and take a SLIDE with me (for free!) living our lives in the do-gee, oh why do I live this way? HEEEEY! Must be the MO-NEYYY!"

current mood: thirsty

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