Crowning Glory
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Category:
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,196
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
Crowning Glory
CROWNING GLORY (A Sidefling from "Forever")
This story is rated R just to be safe. It's Jubilee's POV and a sidefling from ch. 8 of my NC-17 story "Forever," but I think it can stand alone...
These characters aren't mine neither is anything you recognize. Go ahead and try to sue me, capitalist pigs! I'm a poor grad student with a room full of books and gothy crap. I defy you to get one red cent! There. I feel better... This one is pretty short but it's just an aside for Jubilee, really. Poor, angst ridden Jubilee.
He told me he loves my hair. The first thing he said to me when he met me was how much he loved my hair. He compared it to silk and wondered what it would feel like against bare skin. I'm ashamed to say I giggled. He was being Remy, but I took it to heart. Remy made me feel like a woman instead of a kid, he knew where I came from and understood about being a thief, things I could never reveal to anyone, not even Kitty, I spilled to Remy within two days of knowing him. He knows my darkest secrets, about nights dreaming of blood vengeance against those who murdered my parents, about the times I had to trade my body for safety, shelter, food... He never called me a whore, like so many of my so-called friends did in California when they found out. He knew the power that rushes through you when you're a thief like us, existing and not existing at the same time, a person in the store and a ghost to security cameras. Rogue knew that I had marked him for mine. She, of all people, knew what it was like to be alone even in a room full of people. She knew there were things about me that I couldn't tell anyone at the Institute, that I wasn't the façade I wore to school everyday. Preppy, sweet Jubilee-sure, she's a little loud but she's a cute kid, isn't she? No one knew how dark I could be, how I woke up expecting to find myself back in the mall again or worse, in the streets, sleeping in a box or under some guy who offered me dinner or money for my company. Remy could understand the shame I felt about things like that and he knew that what I had done was necessary for survival. We _got _ each other. He would smoke a cigarette and drink something that smelled dark and luscious while we sat on the porch and I could hide in the shadows to tell him my dirty little secrets. He would tell me some of his problems, his past, but he did not reveal it all to me. I can respect that. Honor among thieves and all that. What kills me is that we seemed to know that we were two halves of a whole, that, when no one else could understand us or could bear us, we would have each other. I imagine that's the kind of lightening bolt Kurt and Kitty had when she finally realized she loved him. Like the world was a puzzle that snapped into place with the introduction of one new piece. How did I exist before Remy? How could I have hidden in this shell for so long? Remy never said what he felt about me-we'd only known each other a little while, a week at most. Rogue, though, made it clear what she thought of him. I had never seen her preen before. Her hips took a new rhythm when she walked, and Remy's eyes danced when she would stroll by. He may have loved my hair but he _worshipped _ her curves. I could smell the lust rise off of him whenever she was near. He practically drooled at the sight of her. One night, not long before the fight1, I cornered Rogue and demanded to know what the Hell she was playing at. She denied flirting with him, called me paranoid. She told me that she knew I had my sights on him (actually, I think the phrase she used was "set my cap for him"). I think I may have actually scared her because she _did _ avoid him for two days. Remy sulked but I was too intent on showing him _I _ could be sexy,_ I _ could be that siren he thought Rogue was, to see that he was going to take matters into his own hands. Kitty told me that he and Rogue were down by the boathouse and I went ballistic. I don't really remember much of the fight, just getting a few good licks in and Remy's eyes, staring at me with that look you give a dead dog on the side of the road. I never felt more alone in my life when Kitty took me down and rolled on top of me; I knew that Rogue had won. She was cool and dangerous and gorgeous while I was a kid, a mall rat street punk that had to whore herself a few times and was unworthy of being loved by someone like Remy LeBeau. I sat by the lake for a while after the fight to make sure everyone was out of my way-I didn't want to face any of my "friends" at this point. Up in my room, I stripped down to my skin and stood in front of my mirror, taking stock of all that I was. _Whore, thief, liar, brat, punk. _ My arms bore scars from the few times I tried to escape my lot, scars I told Jamie (when he asked) that I got from handcuffs the one time I got picked up. He's so young that it made sense. He doesn't know that handcuffs usually aren't tight enough to cut that deep, nor will they cut that high up on one's arms. Gymnastics made my legs strong and round rather than lean and slender. I am short-five foot on a good day. I have no hips-a fact that makes me envious of Kitty's new curves and Rogue's old ones. My breasts are pitiably small, a fact I once was proud of after reading that Napoleon fashioned the champagne glass after Josephine's breasts. _See? Small breasts can inspire great acts of passion. The man adored her tits so much that he considered them the perfect size for a mouthful of liquid heaven. _ Now, though, they reminded me of being twelve, the last time they grew. I could easily go without a bra and often did, much to my disappointment. I always hoped that I would try to go braless one day and I would find that I jiggled too much or my breasts sagged too much for me to do it. My skin, a tone I once romantically referred to as "golden," I now saw was merely common olive. My eyes were still almond-shaped but not the sexy almond shape of Michelle Yeoh or Bai Ling. My hair hung down, straight as a board. It made my face look like a kid, made my cheeks look too narrow and my shoulders seem sloped. I looked like an eight year old with pubic hair, I thought. Remy said he loves my hair. I hate that because now I see it makes me so so young, so much like a child that needs to be protected. It's something I can hide behind, a way to look innocent despite my past. I wanted to change now, not for Remy but for me. I needed to let the old Jubilee back out. This new Jubilee is weak and easily hurt. The old Jubilee would tell these people to fuck off, to get out of her face and let her live. I need that again.
My hair looks like little snakes spread across the sink and counter. Downstairs the rest of the kids are eating breakfast and so far, no one has come looking for me. Good. Maybe they'll forget I exist and I can pretend the fight never happened. Wishful thinking, I know, but you tend to grasp at straws when you're this depressed. I'm still naked-I slept that way and dreamt of Remy, much to my chagrin. I'm a little shocked to see that I don't look as much like a boy as I thought I would before I started cutting my hair. I was sure my unfeminine figure, coupled with short hair, would make me look like and Asian Jamie or something similar. Instead, I found that I looked much older than I had last night. I didn't look twelve anymore. My neck looked long and elegant and my face seemed to be free from a yoke of childishness, my eyes seeming much wide and my cheeks much fuller now. I still had small breasts and no hips, but now I looked a little more athletic, like the hair had been hiding all my features. I felt so much better now that I ditched the Mall Rat clothes I was going to wear and dug out some of my old clothes from California. Tiny top, low jeans, chunky boots...one hot mamma, at your service. I left the hair where it had fallen, not caring who saw it before I got home to clean it up. I could hear Kitty calling for me, telling me we're going to be late for school if I don't hurry it up. Deep breath and away we go. Ooooh. Loving the look on Rogue's face now. She looks hurt, like cutting my hair and changing clothes is a personal affront to her. Remy does a double take. Eat your heart out, Gumbo. Kitty, Kurt, Scott and Jean were already gone so I had to ride to school with Rogue, Evan and Amara. Rogue couldn't stop looking at me and I finally perved2 her. She turned a bright red and faced the window. I think she was going to apologize for last night but I didn't want to hear it. Fuck her and her apologies. Remy can have her-I know he'll get hurt in the end. It'll be what he deserves. No. I don't mean that. I think I really do love him as much as I can right now but I know he doesn't love me back. He lusts for Rogue and her mysterious nature. He lusts for all that she is that people like us will never be. I can respect that, so long as he understands that people like us are all that we can be, that we will never be more or less than thieves and liars, that people like Rogue will never understand us or want us forever. I run my hands through my new-short hair and sigh. A woman's hair may be her crowning glory but damn, it was nice to be free from raiment.
1 See ch. 8 of Forever
2 Perving is flashing your breasts at someone. At least down here it is.
This story is rated R just to be safe. It's Jubilee's POV and a sidefling from ch. 8 of my NC-17 story "Forever," but I think it can stand alone...
These characters aren't mine neither is anything you recognize. Go ahead and try to sue me, capitalist pigs! I'm a poor grad student with a room full of books and gothy crap. I defy you to get one red cent! There. I feel better... This one is pretty short but it's just an aside for Jubilee, really. Poor, angst ridden Jubilee.
He told me he loves my hair. The first thing he said to me when he met me was how much he loved my hair. He compared it to silk and wondered what it would feel like against bare skin. I'm ashamed to say I giggled. He was being Remy, but I took it to heart. Remy made me feel like a woman instead of a kid, he knew where I came from and understood about being a thief, things I could never reveal to anyone, not even Kitty, I spilled to Remy within two days of knowing him. He knows my darkest secrets, about nights dreaming of blood vengeance against those who murdered my parents, about the times I had to trade my body for safety, shelter, food... He never called me a whore, like so many of my so-called friends did in California when they found out. He knew the power that rushes through you when you're a thief like us, existing and not existing at the same time, a person in the store and a ghost to security cameras. Rogue knew that I had marked him for mine. She, of all people, knew what it was like to be alone even in a room full of people. She knew there were things about me that I couldn't tell anyone at the Institute, that I wasn't the façade I wore to school everyday. Preppy, sweet Jubilee-sure, she's a little loud but she's a cute kid, isn't she? No one knew how dark I could be, how I woke up expecting to find myself back in the mall again or worse, in the streets, sleeping in a box or under some guy who offered me dinner or money for my company. Remy could understand the shame I felt about things like that and he knew that what I had done was necessary for survival. We _got _ each other. He would smoke a cigarette and drink something that smelled dark and luscious while we sat on the porch and I could hide in the shadows to tell him my dirty little secrets. He would tell me some of his problems, his past, but he did not reveal it all to me. I can respect that. Honor among thieves and all that. What kills me is that we seemed to know that we were two halves of a whole, that, when no one else could understand us or could bear us, we would have each other. I imagine that's the kind of lightening bolt Kurt and Kitty had when she finally realized she loved him. Like the world was a puzzle that snapped into place with the introduction of one new piece. How did I exist before Remy? How could I have hidden in this shell for so long? Remy never said what he felt about me-we'd only known each other a little while, a week at most. Rogue, though, made it clear what she thought of him. I had never seen her preen before. Her hips took a new rhythm when she walked, and Remy's eyes danced when she would stroll by. He may have loved my hair but he _worshipped _ her curves. I could smell the lust rise off of him whenever she was near. He practically drooled at the sight of her. One night, not long before the fight1, I cornered Rogue and demanded to know what the Hell she was playing at. She denied flirting with him, called me paranoid. She told me that she knew I had my sights on him (actually, I think the phrase she used was "set my cap for him"). I think I may have actually scared her because she _did _ avoid him for two days. Remy sulked but I was too intent on showing him _I _ could be sexy,_ I _ could be that siren he thought Rogue was, to see that he was going to take matters into his own hands. Kitty told me that he and Rogue were down by the boathouse and I went ballistic. I don't really remember much of the fight, just getting a few good licks in and Remy's eyes, staring at me with that look you give a dead dog on the side of the road. I never felt more alone in my life when Kitty took me down and rolled on top of me; I knew that Rogue had won. She was cool and dangerous and gorgeous while I was a kid, a mall rat street punk that had to whore herself a few times and was unworthy of being loved by someone like Remy LeBeau. I sat by the lake for a while after the fight to make sure everyone was out of my way-I didn't want to face any of my "friends" at this point. Up in my room, I stripped down to my skin and stood in front of my mirror, taking stock of all that I was. _Whore, thief, liar, brat, punk. _ My arms bore scars from the few times I tried to escape my lot, scars I told Jamie (when he asked) that I got from handcuffs the one time I got picked up. He's so young that it made sense. He doesn't know that handcuffs usually aren't tight enough to cut that deep, nor will they cut that high up on one's arms. Gymnastics made my legs strong and round rather than lean and slender. I am short-five foot on a good day. I have no hips-a fact that makes me envious of Kitty's new curves and Rogue's old ones. My breasts are pitiably small, a fact I once was proud of after reading that Napoleon fashioned the champagne glass after Josephine's breasts. _See? Small breasts can inspire great acts of passion. The man adored her tits so much that he considered them the perfect size for a mouthful of liquid heaven. _ Now, though, they reminded me of being twelve, the last time they grew. I could easily go without a bra and often did, much to my disappointment. I always hoped that I would try to go braless one day and I would find that I jiggled too much or my breasts sagged too much for me to do it. My skin, a tone I once romantically referred to as "golden," I now saw was merely common olive. My eyes were still almond-shaped but not the sexy almond shape of Michelle Yeoh or Bai Ling. My hair hung down, straight as a board. It made my face look like a kid, made my cheeks look too narrow and my shoulders seem sloped. I looked like an eight year old with pubic hair, I thought. Remy said he loves my hair. I hate that because now I see it makes me so so young, so much like a child that needs to be protected. It's something I can hide behind, a way to look innocent despite my past. I wanted to change now, not for Remy but for me. I needed to let the old Jubilee back out. This new Jubilee is weak and easily hurt. The old Jubilee would tell these people to fuck off, to get out of her face and let her live. I need that again.
My hair looks like little snakes spread across the sink and counter. Downstairs the rest of the kids are eating breakfast and so far, no one has come looking for me. Good. Maybe they'll forget I exist and I can pretend the fight never happened. Wishful thinking, I know, but you tend to grasp at straws when you're this depressed. I'm still naked-I slept that way and dreamt of Remy, much to my chagrin. I'm a little shocked to see that I don't look as much like a boy as I thought I would before I started cutting my hair. I was sure my unfeminine figure, coupled with short hair, would make me look like and Asian Jamie or something similar. Instead, I found that I looked much older than I had last night. I didn't look twelve anymore. My neck looked long and elegant and my face seemed to be free from a yoke of childishness, my eyes seeming much wide and my cheeks much fuller now. I still had small breasts and no hips, but now I looked a little more athletic, like the hair had been hiding all my features. I felt so much better now that I ditched the Mall Rat clothes I was going to wear and dug out some of my old clothes from California. Tiny top, low jeans, chunky boots...one hot mamma, at your service. I left the hair where it had fallen, not caring who saw it before I got home to clean it up. I could hear Kitty calling for me, telling me we're going to be late for school if I don't hurry it up. Deep breath and away we go. Ooooh. Loving the look on Rogue's face now. She looks hurt, like cutting my hair and changing clothes is a personal affront to her. Remy does a double take. Eat your heart out, Gumbo. Kitty, Kurt, Scott and Jean were already gone so I had to ride to school with Rogue, Evan and Amara. Rogue couldn't stop looking at me and I finally perved2 her. She turned a bright red and faced the window. I think she was going to apologize for last night but I didn't want to hear it. Fuck her and her apologies. Remy can have her-I know he'll get hurt in the end. It'll be what he deserves. No. I don't mean that. I think I really do love him as much as I can right now but I know he doesn't love me back. He lusts for Rogue and her mysterious nature. He lusts for all that she is that people like us will never be. I can respect that, so long as he understands that people like us are all that we can be, that we will never be more or less than thieves and liars, that people like Rogue will never understand us or want us forever. I run my hands through my new-short hair and sigh. A woman's hair may be her crowning glory but damn, it was nice to be free from raiment.
1 See ch. 8 of Forever
2 Perving is flashing your breasts at someone. At least down here it is.