Mav Skye

“An Undergrounder is one who comes back after he’s or she’s—you know, under the ground.” Daniel’s green eyes flared again. “That isn’t supposed to happen.” Sir Sun nodded in agreement. “Most certainly not.”

“Be dangerous, darling, for the whole world rises and falls at your feet.”

“We were going to save the world, because no one ever saved us.”

“The image of May shoving the gun down her lace panty butt crack and drawing it like an old west cowboy is too much. Who are we? Who the fuck are we? Supergirls for real, that’s who.”

“Love is always worth the risks, even when, especially when, it scares you.”

“I have a present for you.” He raised his eye brows. “I don’t like your surprises.” “You’ll like this one. Close your eyes.”

“I snipped the cherries but left the banana.” She gave him a knowing look. “God,” said Sir Sun. “No, not God. Me. I did it.” She pointed at herself.”

“And the wolf said, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and find your money, you shit-faced fucker…”

“At the end of the world, music always played on like a bad movie.”

“The feel of her skin as she struggled beneath, the life inside, the death without. The breaching of life and death, of survival uncaged inside him: a dark beast with violence and sex in its soul. In his soul.”

“And then, standing there in my Godzilla t-shirt, her blonde hair combed to the side, she says, “Supergirls stand together.” I had to say the rest, “Supergirls stay together.”

“The truth,” Mrs. Hodgkins says, standing back up and turning to her cold marble pupils, “is imagination without boundaries is like a gun, it can be dangerous and kill.” She turns slightly and points to the back of her head to demonstrate. Her brains spill over the left crevice of her skull, clinging like hardened jelly. “Or imagination can save lives.”

“The old folks say there is only black and white. That may do for their tidy lives, but it doesn’t apply to all of us. We, Supergirls for real and the wretched creature at my feet, live in the gray and the mist. We may never see the stars, but we believe in the dream of them.”

“Demons? No problem. Just find your local stalker psycho and ask the whistling dear head hanging above his fireplace how many licks on a toostie pop does it take to make a demon go away.”

“Velva’s face glowed in the streetlight. “Sir Sun, don’t you see? I am your violent violet. And you are mine.”

“Velva wasn’t merely a rose among the thorns, the lily of the valleys, she was Empress amongst the stars and planet.”

“A moment of silence settled over all of them. Then Velva broke it. “We are the hunter and the haunter, the haunted and hunted.…”“But for what purpose?” asked Sir Sun.“It is all for the same purpose, Timothy.  The empty that wish to be full.”