Dear fanfiction writers everywhere,
I'd like to start off by pointing out that the only reason I started off this letter by referring to any of you as "dear" is because that's what Rahne showed me to do. I'm too lazy to actually check on the internet to see if this is how you write a letter, so I'm just going to take her word for it. I've never written a letter before, just texts and e-mails, so sry if I spk in txt tlk smetmes. :) :) :)
First, I should clear up some confusion: I'm not dyslexic. In the comics, I have dyscalculia, which is like dyslexia but with numbers, and I would have had legitimate dyslexia if I had been included in the movies, but I only appeared in a few scenes, and I had, like, two lines, so that's out. Everyone here agrees that I can read words and numbers just fine, but I don't ever apply myself. And really, why should I bother? That junk is so boring.
Secondly, my birth parents are alive in this universe. Notice that they withdrew me from the Institute in the third season? I wasn't orphaned or adopted or anything like that in the show. Good thing, too, because I don't want to have to spend my energy showing grief. That's such a downer.
And in the show, I had straight, long, flat black hair. None of this "spiky" and "blue-black" weak stuff for me. And I'm not so much of a tomboy as much as I just enjoy time with the boys, if you know what I mean.
I still like makeup, hairstyling, and fashion here just as much as I did in the comics. Unfortunately for me, Jean takes it upon herself to go through my wardrobe and sort out the clothes that she claims are "provocative" and "too revealing". I usually tell her to go find a ponytail holder for her long red hair, which looks like it could be featured in a freakin' shampoo commercial. Seriously, it's not fair that someone as prudish as Jean has such awesome hair.
Sometimes I try out hairstyles on the boys, who don't really appreciate my efforts. The only people I don't experiment with are Jean-Paul, our resident psychopath; Jean, because she'd take the opportunity to just lecture me about "inappropriate" style choices; Kitty, since she's really tough and I don't like the smell of tobacco smoke; and Rogue, because I don't want to be killed in my sleep.
Ugh, these pairings with these New Mutant boys have to stop. I don't want to be dating people who wear the same clothes day after day while they play video games and drink liquor. It's disgusting! Besides, I think that Bobby has a thing for Jean-Paul. Or maybe it's Rogue. Maybe it's both, because whenever I see those three together, they always seem to be- oh, back to my point. I'm not a big fan of that one demonic Satanist or Our Benevolent leader, Comrade Scott Summers, either, to be honest. I'm fine with staying single for now, but that Julien Richter looks awfully pretty these days.
Anyway, I have to go because Jean has summoned an entire Gospel chorus to perform outside my window and tell to me to live a holy life and stuff and whatever. She's been doing stuff to try to convince us to give up our sins and all that. Oh, well. GTG, TTYL!
Sincerely,
Jubilation Lee
A/N: Kudos for anyone who gets the reference of "Our Benevolent leader, Comrade Scott Summers". Hint: George Orwell coined the phrase.
I know that this letter wasn't that funny, but I'll try to do better next time.