we live and die alone.

" it's the time spent in between - laughing, learning, together - that makes life worth living. "

[lifeinccrnate]

AFTERMATH ASK MEME || “It is for bitches, that’s why I thought you’d like it.” for @oderintdummetuants​

Skylar was … well, she wasn’t the smoothest around the edges. She reminded Jean somewhat of Scott just for the prickly demeanour when people approached her, and the trust issues were familiar as well. Jean had them too, she just hid them better – and telepathy helped assuage a lot of fears when it came to people’s motivations. She tried to be patient with the girl. She was a doctor, an X-Men, a teacher – she was good at patience. But Skylar tried it, she really did. “When you inject such … creativity into your sales pitch, it makes me slightly less likely to want to try your beignets,” Jean said, looking down at the plate Skylar had passed her, raising an eyebrow as she looked back at her. “Besides,” she continued, passing the plate back with a small smile, “bitches like me prefer croissants.”

[lifeinccrnate]

AFTERMATH ASK MEME || “Demons? Is that what you like?” for @ofdemonsandmagic​

Xavier’s received more than their fair share of strange visitors. Jean got used to it before she was even eighteen years old. At this point, a dragon could land in the middle of the lawn and she doubted she would bat an eye. When someone teleported into the library, Jean looked up curiously from her magazine. If this was a villain, she’d be picked up quickly on Cerebro. If it wasn’t, she’d get to the point soon enough – and she did. “Excuse me?” Jean asked, vaguely amused, a small smirk coming onto her face. “I’ve been called an angel a few times, but demon isn’t exactly what people typically think when they see me. Unless you’re talking about some of the students, in which case I’ll remind you this is a mutant school. We don’t necessarily appear human, and we shouldn’t have to. It’s a safe space.”

[lifeinccrnate]

thefirstxman‌:

Everyone loved Jean. It was something Scott had realized early on in his life, something he understood as a teenager back when there were only five of them in that huge house. The other three, they flocked to Jean immediately. They loved her immensely, entirely, so much that Scott somehow wondered how they had room for it all. It had taken him a long time to stop denying the fact that he loved her, too, but it had always been the truth. Everyone loved Jean, because loving Jean was easy. He suspected it was just as easy for humans as it was for mutants, suspected that her classmates here adored her just as much as her classmates at Xavier’s had. What he wasn’t sure of was whether or not that would change if they realized she was different. Everyone loved Jean, but the only thing stronger than love was that immense fear ingrained in every fucking human being who’d ever seen a mutant on the news. Jean’s mutation was hidden, but Scott’s? Scott’s was as obvious as the rose quartz glasses on his face. His being here could out her and he knew it, but she hadn’t asked him to stay away and he wasn’t selfless enough to volunteer to.

Especially not when she was looking at him like she was right now. He smiled at her words, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. “I’m not on campus very often,” he pointed out with a faint smile. He wasn’t great at flirting, but Jean knew that. She’d always known that, and she loved him anyways. She tugged him back down towards her, and he laughed as she spoke, feigning seriousness at the order. The expression softened from his face as he leaned down to kiss her, their lips fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. The kiss lasted long enough to make the footsteps echoing through the dorm halls slow, a sure sign that people were staring, but Scott couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Three days without Jean felt like a lifetime — he never wanted to know what it would feel like to go longer than that without kissing her.

Anyone she’d met since the first day of medical school knew Scott’s name, at the very least. The people Jean got closer to, the ones whose minds she found were wide open and accepting (to a certain extent – even the most willing person had some remnants of fear when it came to the unknown, and the world made sure to keep mutantkind in the dark to maintain that) knew him in a little more detail, knew that when the going got tough and it was fifteen hours into a study session, it took only a brief look at the photograph Jean had sitting on her desk or her bedside table for her to maintain her focus. Scott grounded her in a way that no one else did. With him, she was capable of taking on the world – and facing down cosmic level threats, too. There was nothing they couldn’t accomplish together, but with the distance between them, the bond wasn’t as strong as it used to be. It took him standing in front of her again to remind Jean that nothing was breaking the string between them, a comfort that she needed.

(There came that familiar selfish fear that someday people would start seeing what Jean did when she looked at Scott, and she would lose him like she lost Annie, or her parents, or her entire family save for Sara. For all people claimed to love her, Jean wasn’t much good at keeping them around for the long haul, not when they knew who she really was.)

“Of course you are,” Jean said, as if that much should’ve been obvious. Using both of her hands, she moved one of Scott’s to her chest, resting it over the top of her ribcage, right where her heart still beat harder anytime he looked at her. “You’re always in here.” It was cheesy, no doubt, but if there was anyone who deserved a little cheesy, it was the man in front of her. Jean could hear thoughts apart from Scott’s behind her, but it only spurred her on more, stepping up on her toes so her hand could brush against the curve of her jaw. When she finally – regretfully – pulled away, she slipped her hand under his jacket, wrapping her arm around his side. “Come on, Slim,” Jean said, nudging him gently to walk with her. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried the banana float from Maggie’s.”

[lifeinccrnate]

mutantprydes‌:

“Did you? All the time?” Kitty sniffled, suddenly lulled into a quiet with the simple idea that Jean had thought of her too. Like a child, Kitty thought bitterly, catching her own reaction. It was always these little things, knowing someone cared for her, even a just a touch, that quieted the anxiety in her heart. Like a child—or something worse, something selfish and insecure. Had she always been so fickle? “No, hold on now,” she shook her head, a choked giggle caught in her throat—a vision of the girl she used to be—“don’t you sweet talk me! I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

But it was the girl she wasn’t anymore, or the one she refused to let herself be. And the moment, the glint of a teasing joke behind her eyes, died just as quickly as it’d come. 

“Gone?” She croaked, hoping the more she said it the more it would make sense. Admittedly, she didn’t know much about the Phoenix Force, only what she’d pieced together from knowing both Rachel and Jean. “Can it really just be gone?” Maybe Kitty should have been happier for Jean; it was good news, wasn’t it? The thing she couldn’t control was gone for good and maybe this was her shot at a new life. But Kitty knew it wouldn’t be that simple, not for Jean, not for anyone. “I tried to make it pretty,” she confessed, “I tried to start a garden over the scorched bits but…” she only got as far as watering it, which was sad enough in its own right. “Wildfires make forests more lush.” The last sentence had spilled out of her for a reason she couldn’t explain. And so, she didn’t try to. ( She worried, briefly, that it sounded almost like Jean dying was good )

“I want you to stop dying, for starters, and then maybe better uniforms for the X-Men,” she rubbed her arms, manufacturing a warmth she wished she could ask Jean for. Kitty let Jean speak, and then she let silence wash over them. “It’s not a life, Jean,” she whimpered in reply finally, turning her head away as hot tears fell under the shadow of the dimly lit hall. “And it’s not fair. You should get a happy ending, we all should. Don’t—don’t doom yourself before you can even hope. Is it wrong to want more, Jean? Am I wrong for wanting you to live? Why must your sense of reality be so bleak? Call it realism–or whatever you want–but I refuse to believe it.” 

She didn’t want a promise, she just wanted Jean to live—whatever that meant.

And Kitty took the fact that Jean was not bursting at the seams with excitement to be alive again and rid of the Phoenix to mean that she really was just waiting until the next time the world would demand her sacrifice—and that was not a life. Not to Kitty, not as she saw it.

( In another, smaller voice, a whisper meant only for her own ears, “I never signed up for this.” And she hadn’t, not really. She’d joined as a child thinking being an X-Men would be fun. )

“Also, I want a hug, you jerk.”

Thinking about the X-Men in the White Hot Room was so easy, especially with the running tally of alternate universes the Phoenix presented to her. Jean could see how their lives would’ve changed if Ororo appeared later, if Kitty wasn’t brought into the fold so young, if Jean was the one Charles chose as leader instead of the obvious choice, Scott. So many universes had them even worse off than this one, but that didn’t make Jean any more equipped to deal with Kitty standing in front of her now. “All the time,” Jean repeated. She would’ve said every day, but time was something of a strange concept in the Room. She’d been there for years according to Scott, but when she looked back, it felt like days. Hours. Minutes, sometimes.

Kitty laughed, even if it was more of a choked sob, and Jean managed a small smile in her direction. “I especially missed banana pancakes,” she said, deciding to double down on something so small, something that shouldn’t mean a thing at all in the grand scheme, but was so important. “You can’t really eat when you’re— you know.”

Gone. Jean remembered standing in front of Rogue, explaining that the Phoenix wasn’t just her codename, that it wasn’t even her. It was a force, a cosmic entity that Jean had no hope of controlling no matter how much it professed to love her. The rest of the X-Men seemed to be aware of that fact now. She supposed that was down to the fireworks show down on the lawn. Anyone who knew Jean – or at least, she hoped it was as easy as that – had to know that the last thing she would willingly do was put her family in danger. “It used to be … everywhere. I felt warm, all the time.” Jean swallowed thickly, crossing her arms against her chest, almost hugging herself, bracing against the new cold. “It’s gone. I don’t feel it anymore.”

For a beat, Jean flashed back to herself, the way she had justified the Phoenix’s actions so long ago. “Life comes from rebirth,” Jean said lowly. “I can … I could help you, when winter’s over. Or we could move them into a greenhouse.” Planning for the future was always the way Jean dealt with the aftermath of a fight, pretending that there was a level of stability that X-Men could never guarantee. But Kitty wasn’t a child. Not anymore, not since the day Charles brought her into the fold, really. This time, Jean really did laugh, even if it came out rough from disuse. “I’m sure Charles would have something to say about emblazoning our asses with a sparkled Gucci,” Jean joked – but the atmosphere swiftly changed, and Jean didn’t know what to do with that, even if she’d been the one to cause it.

She caught a glimpse, just a reflection, of tears in the darkness of the hallway, and her anger seeped out of her as quickly as the Phoenix’s power had when Jean got so damn tired of fighting, like a dam finally released into the lake. “Endings aren’t–” Jean took a sharp breath, trying to dispel some of the guilt that settled on her chest heavy, like a stone weighing down on her ribcage. “Endings shouldn’t be what you want. Endings are the worst part.”

They were never going to have that final fight that ended things. They were never going to be able to rest. The only peace Jean ever got was in snatches of moments. Pancakes with Kitty. Watching TV with Bobby, laughing as he imitated the accents on the screen. Looking out over the lawn to see Scott training the new students. But was Kitty wrong for not seeing the world as Jean did?

Never.

“You’re not wrong,” Jean said, lowly. So far as her sense of reality, the bleakness of it … maybe she was cynical now. Maybe she was jaded. But that’s what three attempts at death would do to you, and it’s what being dragged into something you didn’t expect would do to you, and it’s what fighting a war since you were a teenager would do to you.

Kitty knew that more than most.

Jean looked up from her feet at Kitty’s next words, and she didn’t hesitate before crossing the distance between them, wrapping her arms tightly around the younger girl. “I thought about this all the time too,” she whispered. “I missed you a whole lot, Kit Kat.”

[lifeinccrnate]

apoisontouch‌:

Rogue was laughing despite the heaviness in the atmosphere. The thought of the kids walking away from her class with a Southern accent was laughable, but maybe if she drilled it into them enough, they would have that too. It would be good for blending in if they ever went to the South to hide. But that wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought – just one that was there in the back of her mind. She had spent so much time running herself, that she just assumed that at some point in their lives, her students would be running too. (Which was the morbid reality for all mutants.) “They’ll find a joke anywhere, sugar.” This part was much easier, but all it was, was dragging out the conversation. Hiding what was really important.

Up. Rogue found herself wondering if there was a double meaning there, up was a direction that Rogue could take Jean, but unless Jean’s powers had changed – Jean could fly herself upwards. “Never thought I’d have to warn ya about keepin’ your head out of the clouds – and keepin’ your feet on the ground.” Again, the remark was light. Rogue was trying to feel out the situation before she dove headfirst into a disaster. 

“Does Scott know?” Rogue probably could have waited a beat for asking that particular question, but it felt important. They had a connection that was hard for Rogue to describe – and something that Rogue was sure she’d never get. (Her powers complicated every crevice of her life, she had tried relationships – but the lack of physical contact usually was the deal breaker.) But as far as Jean’s reasoning for accepting that cosmic energy – Rogue understood that. There were a lot of things she was willing to give up in order to make sure the people here, her family, was safe. And Jean had felt that calling a lot longer than Rogue had.

Rogue felt her blood run cold when Jean spoke. It wanted to burn them. How – what was she supposed to do with that? What was she going to do the quell the fear that was now brewing in her heart? If the Pheonix was on a track to wipe out all of humanity – what the hell could they do to stop a cosmic entity from destroying them? 

But it only took her a beat to realize what could be done.

Rogue could be done.

She could stop this, couldn't she? 

Suddenly, Rogue was acutely aware of what it was that Jean wanted to talk to her. Rogue chewed on her bottom lip, looking at Jean and waiting for her friend – her sister to ask her to help her. “Ya got a plan to stop this thing?” Rogue asked carefully – feeling like she wasn’t going to like the answer that Jean provided. “Ya know how long ya got before it sets the world on fire?”

There was so much that Jean kept from the students. That much was expected – they were kids, and that was her job, to protect them when they couldn’t protect themselves, to shoulder the weight of the world so they didn’t have to. It was what her parents should’ve done for her growing up, instead of leaving it all for Charles, who took that responsibility without complaint and ran with it. It was what she kept from the other X-Men, from her teammates, that was the issue. Despite the telepaths running rampant in the school, there were still so many secrets. They’d all lived a life before they came to the school, some more years than others, but the path they took until they arrived here was rarely smooth.

It wasn’t Jean’s childhood she kept close to her chest, though, even if she didn’t make a habit of discussing Annie. It was what was going down now that she kept hidden. When she told the others she was in her room working on cases from work, she was really being teleported away by the Phoenix, blasting through the cosmos, tearing armies apart and returning without a scratch. “I’ve always had big dreams. Mom had the warnings covered, as far as I’m concerned,” Jean said with a small smile, even as it tightened with the thoughts running through her mind.

“Part of it,” Jean said, looking down at her hands. “That’s …” Admitting it cut into her, made Jean feel guilty for reasons that words couldn’t explain. “We have the bond, but I think– I know the Phoenix is blocking some of it out.” It enhanced her powers, turned her from a mutant into something else, but Jean could instinctively feel when it was making her hold back, too. (Or maybe that was herself. Maybe she was terrified of admitting to Scott something that she knew neither of them could deal with, when it came down to it.) “He knows the Phoenix isn’t me. He was the first one to know. The first one I told, at least.” Charles probably knew beforehand. He had a habit of that, even without Cerebro, could read it all over Jean’s face. “It’s been with me for a long time.”

Jean was an Omega level telepath. She had powers Charles said she hadn’t even touched on yet, but when her mind wasn’t razor focused, when she wasn’t actively fighting, her body was still just the same as another human’s. There was a way to do this. “Plan is a strong word,” Jean replied, and it felt as much of a confession as not going to Scott with this did. Her skin was crawling from her, her stomach turning into knots, but she looked back up at Rogue and she could breathe, at least. This was her friend. Her family. She could do this.

“It might never come to that,” she said, “but you’ll know when it does. I’ve been blacking out. I wake up and it feels like a nightmare, but then I realise it actually happened. It makes everything … stronger. Angrier. I can usually talk it down, but it would be so easy to just–” Jean bit down on her lip so sharply she could taste metal in her mouth. “If we did this, it would need to take the Force off guard. If I lost control, and got a moment … we would need to do it then. No hesitation, no …” Jean took a breath, leaning back against the desk. She buried her head in the palms of her hands for a long moment. “Soon,” she said, finally. “Really soon. I can’t keep fighting anymore. I can’t– It’s like the worst enemy we’ve ever faced, but it lives inside me. I see it every time I close my eyes, and I can’t do this anymore.”

[lifeinccrnate]

deadbxrd‌:

          “Took a while to rack up~” Jason drawled through his nearly trademarked side-smile. “You don’t become an international head-hunt for nothin’.” Of course, not like that meant much anymore. He never was too proud of his international track record, but it did look nice on a merc resume. He relaxed onto the windowsill, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Guess not much impresses you. Don’t know many docs who are ever surprised by anything.” Even if most of the doctors he knew were criminally insane, he found a lot more of the actual practicing ones treated more heroes than they were probably comfortable with. This seemed to be no exception. 

          His face dropped at the fact. Oh home. Were too many people bored with the Jersey city and figured they’d get more fun terrorizing the bigger one across the water? … Maybe. “Don’t remind me,” He huffed. “Too many bats in the belfry, I can’t escape ‘em.” It wasn’t the ‘family’ he was following, it was the marks, the contracts. With all the big suppliers flying the coop, home got fucking boring. His face tightened, brows knitting together as he tried to mull over if he wanted to try shooting his way out or complying… he went with the latter, mumbling gruffly as he dropped the helm, shed his jacket, and sat on the edge of the less than pristine bed, starting to unlatch the body armor. 

“If medicine doesn’t work out for me, I’ll be sure to call you up and get some career advice,” Jean deadpanned, though there was a small smirk on her face to match his. There was something within her that liked him, that liked anyone who walked through the door with tactical gear on. If someone went out at night and put their life on the line to make a difference, yeah Jean was going to sympathise with them. Her team never got the gratitude they deserved either, purely because of the gene they carried, so to judge the guy standing in front of her wasn’t first on her priority list. “I’m a little more than the standard doctor,” Jean replied, a little wryly, “but if you’re easy shocked, you really shouldn’t work emergency in New York City.”

Too many bats. He confirmed it relatively easily, not that it was necessary. Jean could search his mind, though she didn’t make a habit of it. All she was concerned with these days were auras, reading a person’s overall soul. This guy had a lot of stains, but he was good. That much came through. “Do you want to?” she asked, casually enough that he could ignore it if he wanted, but the curiosity was there. There was a beat when Jean just looked at him, eyebrow raised, and then he moved to sit on the couch. She made her way over to the cupboard, opening up a dressing pack, and frowned when she took in the first of his wounds. “This is pretty nasty,” she said. “Most people would be asking for painkillers by now. I’ll write you up for something, but it won’t kick in for another half hour. You alright if we get some stitches?”

[lifeinccrnate]

wildheartsarah‌:

“Always is,” Sarah replied. This was a pattern they had fallen into over the years. Jean, and all the mutants, carried a lot of baggage – it was hard for them to accept an outsider, when the outside had rarely been kind to them. Sarah didn’t let that frustrate her, or even upset her. She saw it not as an obstacle, but an opportunity to prove herself. All challenges were opportunities.

Some were harder than others. Sarah listened carefully, her gaze steady and her body language open and casual. (A surprisingly significant part of her profession.) There was no denying this was complicated – they were talking about superheroes and magical powers and things beyond this world. But at the core, emotions were emotions. The good feelings felt good and the bad things felt bad. When you hurt a friend, you felt guilty, no matter the context. “Well, you can’t make her stick the pieces back together, if she doesn’t want to,” she said softly, reaching across the table and placing a hand gently over Jean’s. Maybe it would help her feel the support Sarah was trying to offer. “But if she does want to… then you’ll have to show her how. The process takes time and patience – both of which you have, Jean,” she reminded her. “Start with a conversation. That’s how most everything starts. By getting the emotions out there, even if it’s hard. Especially then.”

It was always so difficult outside of the X-Men for Jean to reveal pieces of herself. She was more open than Scott, warmer than Emma, more trusting of people than Hank, but that didn’t make it easy to look at people who weren’t her family and trust them. She was burned more times than she could count in medical school by people who were friendly towards her, building relationships, right up to the point when they realised who and what she was, and suddenly everything changed. Part of her expected that of Sarah, too, no matter how quickly they had clicked, and now, Jean felt bad about that.

She wanted to tell her the whole story. She wanted to talk to someone, anyone, who hadn’t been there that day on the lawn. The only person she really wanted to talk to was Scott, but dragging up that pain for him again just felt selfish in all the worst ways. “And what if when they’re out there, they can never go back in?” Jean asked, looking up at Sarah. She knew that she was talking around in circles. She knew that. Sarah reached out for her hand and Jean turned hers over so she could hold on tightly, squeezing her friend’s hand. “I wasn’t in Australia,” she said, because that was the first place to start, wasn’t it? “You … you know who I am. What I am. I wasn’t in Australia, but I was gone, because a fight … it went badly. I brought a friend down with me, and I don’t know how to help her back up.” She sucked in a shaky breath, squeezing Sarah’s hand again to steady herself. “I guess that’s something I’m not used to,” she admitted. “Guilt. I don’t know … I don’t know what to do with it. How to breathe around it.”

[lifeinccrnate]

mightystormgod‌:

When Jean invited him for tea, he had hoped that it was code for something else. Maybe Jean had snuck alcohol into the school (did she have to sneak it when she was a teacher? – Thor wasn’t sure). But when Jean placed an actual cup of tea in front of him, Thor looked… confused? Offended? He didn’t drink tea. A conversation he had once with Doctor Strange but… he couldn’t do that to Jean. But even as tried to pretend like the tea was the best thing he had smelled his entire life, it was taking a lot for Thor to try and rationalize how he was going to stomach it. His mother had to have had tea right? And if she drank it – he could drink it in her memory. He could do this. 

The invitation also came with a wave of anxiety. Did Jean know about Asgard? Was that why she had called him here to talk? To comfort him? To talk about it? (He was having that conversation with all the people he cared about – but it never got easier. A half dozen times later and the thought of retelling the tale still made him stick to his stomach.) “Soothing the soul?” Thor repeated, offering Jean a meek smile before bringing the drink to his lips and took a sip – forcing it down. (Tea, in fact, was still terrible.) Thor let out a small sigh when Jean touched him, this was a touch of comfort that he was starting to become accustomed to. The scars of his battle were in plain view for the world to see. “Has it?” Thor asked, but the smile on his face slipped as soon as he spoke. “Feels like it’s been no time at all and yet… like centuries, Jean. How have things been here? The other Avengers have been… hesitant to tell me what has happened in my absence.” 

People tended to be hyperaware of the fact that Jean was a telepath while also missing out on the finger points of what it actually included. Thor never quite fit into that category. He never looked at her as if she should be feared for going into his mind, never distrusted her even before he knew her. They’d been friends almost from the moment they met, an easy warmth to their relationship, and that hadn’t changed with Jean’s deaths – probably because he didn’t know about them, had been too far away to see the fire show on the front lawn, or to witness her bleeding out in Scott’s arms. There was a certain freedom to that, to being the one who could support instead of the one being supported. That’s what she was meant to be, after all, her original purpose on the team, and it had been so long since she managed to get back to that.

“Warm drinks cause people to slow down. You can try your best, but gulping this will only lead to a burned throat. It makes you sit down, smell the roses for a bit.” Jean watched his expression with a mild amusement, trying her best to stifle the smirk from coming onto her face. She didn’t need telepathy to know what was going through his mind, but she wasn’t going to give him an easy out. “It feels like a long time to me. There’s been a lot that’s … happened, since Asgard.” Standing in front of the Eternal Flame, feeling its warmth … Jean remembered feeling the Phoenix’s warmth there. Now, it was the monster under her bed, waiting to rear its ugly head again. “I think it’s been much the same,” Jean said, and now, there was no amusement bubbling in her. She looked down into her cup, fingers tapping against the side of the china. “I wouldn’t really know. I … I was gone, for a while. A long while.”

[lifeinccrnate]

kunlunsironfist‌:

Ward, if he’d been there, would have begged Danny to be just a little less contrary. For once, he’d say, just once, can’t you go easy on people who actually have your best interest in mind? His brother’s voice often acted as the voice of reason in his head, the antithesis of Lei Kung’s whispered put-downs or Danny’s own desperate paranoia that hung over his head the moment he stepped foot in the hospital. And most of the time, Danny was good at listening to that little Ward voice in his head, good at allowing himself to be steered away from his most desperate thoughts. But this… Everything about this was raw. The emotional trauma of what Davos had done to him surpassed the physical pain of it all, putting his mind in a spot vulnerable enough without the added stress of the hospital. Adding a cocktail of drugs to all that… It just wasn’t something Danny could let himself do.

“I get that,” Danny replied, because she had a point. Ward would choke on his pride before he let anyone take it from him, and Davos was the same. Harold, Bakuto, Lei Kung… Most of the men Danny knew put pride above everything else, but he liked to think he wasn’t one of them. “But that’s not me, Dr. Grey.” She was smart enough to know that, he suspected, because the way she spoke about rich people told him she knew more about him than he’d given her credit for. “Well, between you and me… I’m not very good at being a rich person. I’ve been told I’m actually pretty bad at it.” It drove Ward crazy how Danny was with his money, either overly cautious or entirely reckless. There was no in between, no happy medium. That could be said for most things in his life, he supposed. He shifted as Dr. Grey continued, a little uncomfortable with just how accurate her assessment was. “What makes you different than the doctors I’ve had in the past? With all due respect, I don’t know you. You could be just as bad as all of them.” His tone was genuine, because he wanted an answer. Danny had always been someone who wanted to trust people. It got him into more trouble than anything. Her next question caught him off guard, to the point that he actually found himself being honest when he opened his mouth. “I feel — I feel useless,” he admitted. “I can handle pain. I’m used to pain. But I can’t… I can’t do anything when I’m like this. I can’t even help my girlfriend get the plates down from the top shelf of the cupboard without nearly falling over.” 

Jean understood something of what it was like to want to fight back against help offered. She was a medic, which meant that she took her health a little more seriously than the general population and was more likely to go and see about things that were concerning her, but when it came to other things, emotional things … well, Jean pushed people away more than she would like to admit. Being a telepath meant that it was easy to portray a certain image. She could be the same calm, confident Dr. Grey she was right now in front of the people she loved the most even when she was breaking inside. She could come back from the dead over and over again, and act as if it was business as normal. She could take everything she was feeling, that rage and insecurity, and pretend none of it existed, that the only thing she ever was could be described as kind, because that’s what people expected of Jean Grey.

People had expectations of Danny Rand, too. His name immediately brought a hundred and one things to mind, and Jean didn’t want to add to the pressure of that, but she also knew he’d be in a whole world of hurt pretty soon, even if he was standing up against it now. “That’s what I thought,” she hummed in agreement, looking over at him for a long moment. She could take a trip through his mind easily, but she wasn’t Emma Frost. She wasn’t with the Brotherhood. She wasn’t the Phoenix. Danny would choose what he wanted to say and that’s it. “Then you’ve just gained a few points with me,” she joked, a small smile coming onto her face.‌ “There’s no right way to do anything, just the right way for you. You’re figuring it out as you go, and that’s all anyone could ask of you.” He asked a fair question, and Jean looked at him for a long moment. “I don’t know your situation,” she replied, “but I do know what it’s like to have a problem that everyone thinks they can solve easily, even when you know it’s a lot more complicated than it appears on the surface. People are eager to tell you what you should do, what would make things better … but they don’t know what really matters. And I want to know what matters to you, Danny.” Useless. There it was. Jean had been engulfed in the most powerful cosmic force known to man, and she still felt like she had both hands off the wheel. She knew what it was like to be useless. “Useful means different things to different people,” she said. “I guarantee if I asked your girlfriend, she’d have a list of things you were useful for from the comfort of a chair. Can you think of some of those?”

[lifeinccrnate]

AFTERMATH ASK MEME || “I build graveyards.” for @thefirstxman​

There were certain days harder than others. There were certain days when even breathing was difficult, when the memories of the people they lost came back like a tidal wave instead of a constant drizzle. Jean remembered those dates well, and even if she didn’t, she would be able to pick up on them from Scott’s mind. Today, five years ago, they lost three people – a bomb gone off in the middle of a crowd, their own X-Men rushing forward to take the brunt of it. They were heroes, but they were never regarded as them. The newspapers didn’t report on them.

Jean walked in with two mugs of cocoa, glad to find that Scott was alone in the lounge in front of the fire – not that he’d started it. He was staring off into the distance, and Jean chewed on her lip as she set the cocoa down on the coffee table in front of them, moving to sit beside Scott on the couch. She reached her hand up to brush the hair off his forehead, running her hands through, and then he spoke, and she stilled for only a moment. “You build monuments,” Jean replied, softly, leaning into him so she could speak even more quietly. “They chose their path, Scott. They did what they did because they believed in it. If someone told you to stop fighting, you wouldn’t listen to them. Why is it different for other people?”

[lifeinccrnate]

awclintbartonno‌:

(✉ → x-men creepo): again. what. the. futz??????? what’s a cerebro? i dont wanna be bros with cerebro!! (✉ → x-men creepo): ok, name me one new yorker who doesnt have loud internal opinions about coffee grinders. (✉ → x-men creepo): um, i think they find me delightful. or they would if they STAYED OUT OF MY HEAD. not a huge fan of that :/  (✉ → x-men creepo): i mean, you /were/ the bbq though, right? (✉ → x-men creepo): oh my god.  (✉ → x-men creepo): all right, that’s totally fair and all, but IM NOT BLOND. and im not steve or tony. you can read my mind, but you dont know my name?? 

(✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): Cerebro is a extra-sensory perception device. It boosts telepathic signals, allows the X-Men to scan for new mutants who need help. Cerebro doesn’t want to be bros with you! (✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): My boyfriend best friend! He has loud internal opinions about soup instead, so check and mate. (✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): I’m not doing anything /in/ your head! Believe me, if I /could/ stay out of heads, I would. I don’t want to know half of this! (✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): :/ I’m not a huge fan of /that/. (✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): Really? You think kind of blond. (✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): Is that discriminatory towards blonds? I think it is. I’m sorry. (✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): I like to filter information. Okay, so you’re Clint. A pleasure to not meet you.

[lifeinccrnate]

thefirstxman‌:

Jean’s death had felt like the punctuation at the end of a sentence that had been finished for a long time. A part of Scott had always known it was coming, because there was only ever one ending in the books for people like them. Jack had told him years ago, when he was a child looking desperately for a home, where heroes ended up. Doing good gets you killed every time, Scotty, he’d said. It’s the selfish people who inherit the earth. It’s people like you and me who survive. And Jack had been a monster, a man intent on taking a child and using him for what he could do without ever letting him be who he was, a man who would have tossed Scott aside the moment he wasn’t useful anymore… but he hadn’t been wrong. Heroes died. Heroes died every single time.

That didn’t make the funerals hurt any less.

Maybe the fact that he’d seen it coming had made Jean’s death hurt all the more, because he couldn’t pretend it was a surprise. It was an expected outcome that hung with him, one he could never really escape. It followed him everywhere, hanging over his head like a noose ready to choke him in even the most mundane moments. He was pouring his cereal, and Jean was dead. He was brushing his teeth, and Jean was dead. He was watching television, and Jean was dead.

He was standing here, he was looking into her eyes, and Jean was dead. She was still dead.

She was lying, and Scott knew that. She was lying because there was no version of Jean that needed Scott in order to be better. In every universe he’d seen, Scott was a mess. He was always angry, he was always righteous, and he was always a natural fucking disaster waiting to happen. But Jean… Jean was perfect. It was why the Phoenix chose her, time and time again. It was why the two of them were a match made in Heaven, why the bird was swirling in his gut even now at the idea of going to her. It wasn’t an option, and they both knew it. This wasn’t a Jean either of them had any claim to. When all this was over, Scott would go back to his universe, to the life he’d destroyed, and the Phoenix would go with him. There wasn’t room for two versions of it here. 

Her presence in his mind was a familiar one, and Scott ached at her touch. He ached more, of course, when she pulled away, when her hand went to her mouth and she looked at him like he was exactly the man he’d become. “I didn’t feel it,” he confirmed with a slight shake of his head. “I didn’t feel anything.” He hadn’t felt anything, not since the moment the Phoenix came to him. It was preferable, he thought. For years, Scott had felt the weight of his title. He’d carried his people’s fate on his shoulders and done everything in his power not to collapse beneath it, he’d fought to fix the world other people had broke. He’d carried his own grief and anger and guilt on top of it all, and it hurt. The absence of pain, even if he knew it wasn’t natural, felt good. It felt like relief. And Scott longed for that. 

There was something unfamiliar on her face when she stepped forward, and it took Scott a moment to place it. Jean was afraid of him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her afraid of anything before, but she was afraid of him. That should hurt, too, he knew. That should sting, should ache just enough to snap him out of this, but it didn’t. Not even the look on her face was enough to cut through the numbness the Phoenix provided him with. He shook his head when she spoke, a quiet huff of a laugh escaping from between his lips. “This is exactly me, Jean,” he replied, almost sympathetically. She believed in him — in every version of him. She thought he could be better than he was, and she was wrong. For maybe the first time since he’d known her, Jean Grey was wrong. “I don’t want to be rid of it. I fought for this power because I need it. Because without it, our people are doomed. If I go back to my world without the Phoenix, Jean, it’s the end of mutantkind there. I won’t let that happen.”

There wasn’t a day that went by where Jean didn’t think about how bad things could’ve been if the Phoenix had been allowed to continue on as it was. At the height of its power – still only a mild representation of what it was truly capable of, and Jean knew that – she woke up every morning with rage burning in her veins. Microaggressions as she walked to get donuts for the kids turned into something that Jean was willing to rip a street up to compensate for. A passerby made a snide comment about Kurt or Warren’s wings, and Jean got this overwhelming urge to break them down to atoms so at least they would be useful for another purpose. She knew those weren’t her thoughts. She believed Scott when he said that wasn’t her, that the Phoenix turned her into something else … but hadn’t Jean always been angry? Hadn’t she always been pissed off at the way the world looked at her, but more importantly, at the people who she loved?

As time went on, everything was blurred. Anything strong, anything all encompassing, bundled together. Sadness, anger, rage, fear, love. They all brought about the same response from the Phoenix, who despite having more than a decade to learn from Jean still didn’t know the first thing about being a human. Was it possible that Jean, if Rogue hadn’t followed through on her word, could’ve destroyed the Professor? Was it possible she could’ve killed the man standing in front of her? The Phoenix already interfered in their relationship more than Jean could put into words. What if it decided someday that enough was enough, that Jean’s devotion was more of a setback than a strength?

Scott would still love her the same. It wouldn’t matter if Jean ripped the school from its foundations. Scott Summers would still be standing in the wreckage, waiting with his arms open. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in Jean’s mind over that fact.

So then it was decided. No matter how cold her veins went at the prospect, no matter how much she wished this memory she took from him could be boxed and never replayed again (though it definitely would be in her nightmares, when her Scott would appear at her door and … but he wouldn’t, would he? They lost the bond. He wouldn’t know unless Jean went to him, and how could she seek comfort about Scott from Scott?) she would stand in front of him, and she would give him forgiveness. It was always what he searched for, after all, even when he didn’t need it.

“That’s what I said too,” she whispered. “That’s– that’s exactly what I thought. That’s what it wants you to think. But I know who you are. I know you.” Was this how Scott felt in the White Hot Room? How Rogue felt when Jean came to her in that classroom? How Kitty felt, when it was all going down on the front lawn? Was this what powerlessness felt like? (She could see the flicker of a flame reflected in the lenses of his shades, taunting her. I’ve got him now, it felt like. I’ve got him, and he wants me.) “There are other ways. I understand, Scott. You know I understand. I brought it into our lives in the first place because I thought there was no other choice, but once you lean into it? There’s no coming back.” She cradled his cheek in her hand, taking in every inch of his face. “Without Scott Summers, mutantkind is doomed,” she said. “You’re their savior, Scott, not the Phoenix. You’re their strength, just like you’re mine. Don’t– don’t let it take you. Please.”

[lifeinccrnate]

thefirstxman‌:

There was a steely look of determination in her eyes that Scott couldn’t place, a glint of defiance when he spoke. She argued his point like she meant it, and impossibly, Scott believed her. He believed that she was there because she wanted him, and that was a strange feeling. His own parents hadn’t even wanted him, not really. Not entirely. But this stranger, this pretty girl who was just as red as the rest of the world but in a way that shone more than anything he’d ever seen… She wanted him. And Scott, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why.

Maybe, he thought, it wasn’t really about him at all. Maybe she wanted him for the same reason Jack and Essex did — because of what he could do. Scott hated his powers, hated the way there was no controlling them without the glasses Essex had given him and the way they made him even more different than he already was and the way people looked at him like he was a bomb ready to explode the moment they found out what he was capable of. Scott hated his powers, but they were the only thing anyone else had ever been interested in. Why, then, would this girl be any different? “You want me,” he said, repeating her sentiment with a hint of disappointment in his tone, “because of what I can do, right? Because of this.” He tapped the side of his glasses, indicating to his powers without letting them display themselves. It was a question… but it wasn’t. He already knew the answer. 

He also knew that this girl was a little weird. What was she yelling about, his sitting weird? “I was sitting normal!” He glared at her uncertainly, though he knew the expression was meaningless coming from him. She couldn’t even see his eyes. What would she care if he glared? “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t even say anything! You’re the one making it awkward by yelling at me for no reason!” The only thing he’d done was think about how pretty she was, and it wasn’t like — wait. Her voice had been in his head, among his thoughts. If she could talk in his thoughts… Did that mean she could listen in them, too? “Are you — Were you listening to my brain? Don’t do that!”

It was a mess. The whole thing, it was just a mess. But Scott wasn’t panicked anymore. He wasn’t thinking about Jack or Essex or his parents — he was thinking about her. There didn’t seem to be room for the rest of it. He shifted when she began to speak again, understanding in her voice like he’d never heard anyplace else. “Maybe some things can’t be fixed,” he said quietly, uncertainty creeping into his tone. Maybe some people couldn’t be fixed — and maybe Scott was one of them. “I know you’re trying to help. You and this Xavier guy, I know you think you can help me, but… You can’t. And even if you could, you’d change your mind.” Everyone changed their mind. All those couples who’d spoken to him at the orphanage, the ones who’d left without signing any papers because they knew Scott wasn’t worth it. They always saw through him, Mr. Milbury said. They always knew that he was more trouble than he was worth. This girl and the man who’d sent her, they’d do the same. And where would he be then? It was easier, he’d found, to never let yourself hope at all than it was to have that hope and lose it.

Jean wasn’t entirely sure what Charles was planning. She knew that he wanted a school, but the way he was training her, the things he was teaching, seemed to imply that there was something else going on in his mind, vast beyond Jean’s level of comprehension – and guarded to an extent that she doubted she’d ever be able to learn. Jean wasn’t an idiot. She knew her abilities could be used as a weapon, knew how easily she could hurt with them, and if that was targeted in the right direction … well, she wasn’t entirely sure she was averse to the idea. At the end of the day, she trusted Charles. Trusted him enough that she would give her powers, her mind, to him. Trusted him enough that she’d left her parents and siblings. Trusted him enough that she was asking this boy to trust him too without hesitation, knowing Charles wouldn’t let them down.

It was lonely, too, being Charles’ only student. He was good to her, better than anyone ever had been, but he wasn’t her age. He wasn’t her friend. (He was her father, more than her own ever was.) “That’s why the Professor first came to me too,” Jean said, “but that’s not why he– that’s not why I’m still with him. He cares about me.” Jean couldn’t talk about what Charles wanted with Scott, though she could guess. But she did know there would be more bonding the three of them than a shared mutation if Scott gave it a chance. “I don’t want you for that,” she said, lowly. “It’s … I’m the only student at the school, now. I’ve been the only student for a long time, and it would be nice, I guess, if you were– I mean, if I had someone…” Wow, she sounded so sad right now. Jean was always good at making friends, but it was a little difficult when you couldn’t go to school, or walk on the street, without feeling like your head was going to explode. It was a little hard when there was a literal wall separating you from the rest of the city.

Clearly, she was out of practice. “I’m not yelling at you!” Jean exclaimed, and alright, maybe her voice was a little raised, but she felt like she was a pot on the stove ready to boil over. “I’m just— I’m explaining. Loudly!” She forced herself to take a breath, because when she finally managed to look past Scott for a moment, she could see the chestnuts thrown from the trees rising an inch off the ground, hovering there. Unfortunately, Jean couldn’t focus very much on not bending the laws of physics when Scott kept talking, making valid points, which was extremely rude of him. “If I could turn it off I would!” she exclaimed, and then the chestnuts were five inches off the ground, and she definitely wasn’t selling the normal. “You just– I can’t help hearing you thinking about me.”

Somehow the worse it got, the less awkward Jean felt. She was irritated and self conscious and her heart kept tapping out a strange rhythm in her chest, but there was almost a comfort here. Scott wasn’t thinking freak, or weirdo, or mutie. He wasn’t thinking any of those things, and Jean knew exactly why. “Maybe some things can,” she said softly. She moved to sit back down on the bench, patting beside her for Scott to join her. “The Professor says I’m special,” she explained. “Most mutants are powerful, but he says there are some that are extra strong, like me. Like you.” She looked back over at him – it was nice looking at him. “If he can help me … why can’t he help you?” You’d change your mind. Everyone was always so sure of what Jean would or wouldn’t do. “I won’t change my mind,” Jean said. “I don’t do that.” She held out her hand, extending her pinkie towards him. “Even if you don’t come with us … I won’t change my mind. Promise.”

[lifeinccrnate]

apoisontouch‌:

That wasn’t what Rogue wanted in this – but she wasn’t entirely sure she could stop this Jean even if she tried. By the way their conversation had been so for, it was clear to Rogue that this Jean wasn’t shy about leaning into the power of the Pheonix. She was embracing it in a way that Rogue wasn’t sure her Jean ever had. And that was terrifying on its own. “Doubt he’s there, but the danger room is always fun, ain’t it, sugar?” Rogue didn’t even pretend that it wasn’t a way to distract Jean, they were both too smart to pretend that Rogue was inviting Jean to the danger room for some fun. The danger room, as its name suggested, could be one of the most dangerous place in the whole school — and Rogue was sure it was far enough away from the kids that if things got ugly, the damage would be minimal. “That would be a good guess, sugar.” One that was right in line with Rogue’s thinking. “Don’t take it personally, trust ain’t somethin’ I hand out.” 

Rogue paused. She never considered making Jean handle this herself – she didn’t realize that was an option (then again, she didn’t even know that the Pheonix wasn’t just a power it was a cosmic entity). “And you can? Handle it yourself?” Rogue asked. “How?” Maybe if this Jean had a way of keeping the power in check, Rogue could share that with her Jean and help her. (But would this Jean want to share that?) “I know there is, sugar,” Rogue murmured. Erik always had a vision, and that was on that Rogue had followed for years before jumping ship to the X-Men. And a lot of what Erik aspired to change in the world still touched Rogue’s heart. But Rogue had made her choice. The X-Men were her choice, even if she had left them. “Yeah, it all went down right out front,” Rogue confirmed in a whisper. It was public enough that there had been an audience – but the only one in the crowd whose eyes burned her were Scott’s. “The Professor taught me how to… empty my mind of the other people. Build that wall of stone. Hush the voices. Couldn’t do that with the Brotherhood. It’s a step in the right direction, sugar.” Least, Rogue thought it was. “Can I touch people? Because — acceptance is nice and all, but most days I just want to be a person. Not… not this.” 

Rogue was acting as an X-Man. Standing in front of her now, she wasn’t seeing Jean as her friend, or her sister, or a teammate. She was considering her a threat from another word, which for all intents and purposes she was. Jean learned a long time ago that sentiment and warmth was only a strength when it was controlled, when it was directed towards those who already had your back and your loyalty in return, and so she told herself not to be hurt by the fact that Rogue was looking at her with such obvious mistrust – but it was hard to separate the woman standing in front of her from the person she left back in her own universe. They’d gone out for pancakes only the previous morning, had laughed the entire way home, Rogue holding onto Jean’s hand as they walked because the Phoenix had learned to adjust. In this world, clearly it had a way more to go, if what Jean was picking up from the students’ subconsciousness was anything to go by. “Always a safe bet for a good time,” Jean replied with a tight smile, tilting her head to the side as she looked at Rogue. “Well, I already knew that. I know you, remember?”

Jean shrugged a shoulder, aiming for an air of casualness that not even she could completely believe in when it came to the Phoenix. They were far more of a partnership than they were in this universe, but the Force was still something ultimately uncontrollable. “I can burn out just as easily as embracing the flames,” she replied. “Your Jean’s problem is fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of letting go. Fear of death.” Annie died in her own timeline. Magneto helped her to understand that death was something inevitable – and ultimately, Jean came back every time. “That must’ve been difficult,” Jean said lowly, her confidence fading for just a moment. Part of it was to endear herself to the woman in front of her, but the rest of it? The rest of it was a softness she hadn’t managed to rain out. “The Professor.” Jean huffed a laugh. “Yeah, he did that to this Jean too, didn’t he? Taught her how to block it out. Put a wall in her mind, stopped her from using her abilities until he thought she was ready. Who is Charles Xavier to tell us who we are?” Jean crossed her arms against her chest, even as she leaned back against the island counter. “You can touch me,” she replied. “That’s something.”

[lifeinccrnate]

akajustjessicajones‌:

“I’m sure that’s a real comfort to the people she’s hurt,” Jessica said flatly. She wasn’t here to argue about this, about mutant rights or accountability or what-the-hell-ever. She had a job to do. “Only if she gives me a hard time,” she quipped, even though she didn’t even have handcuffs. “We also both know that if you stop me, then they’ll send someone who’s worse. And they’ll take her somewhere worse.” She had been in those holding rooms, she knew that there were a lot more uncomfortable places to be, with a lot less help on the other side of the glass. 

Jessica rolled her eyes, and reached out, shoving a nearby dumpster with one hand. It flew down the alleyway, not towards the woman, just as a demonstration. “Not exactly,” she deadpanned. “You can move, or I can make you move. Your choice.” 

“What’s your plan for comfort then?” Jean asked, raising an eyebrow. “To hurt her instead? Eye for an eye, the whole world goes blind. Putting cuffs around a kid’s wrists isn’t the way to justice. She didn’t want to do this.” Jean hadn’t spoken to the girl yet, but the pattern was achingly familiar. She knew it from her own life, could feel it when she read through the mission briefing, and Scott felt the same way. Jean learned a long time ago to trust in his instinct. “If I stop you, then I’ll take her someplace better. You forget I’m an option in this equation.” Not an option so much as a foregone conclusion, but Jean wasn’t fond of Emma’s way of handling situations. Mutants were feared enough without Jean swinging around power unnecessarily.

But then the other woman did just that, the dumpster crashing, the lid of it clattering back against the brick wall of the alleyway. Jean didn’t flinch, just continued to look at the woman, hearing the chaos behind her. “Again, you’re missing a third option,” she said. “I could move you.” Jean didn’t bother to raise a hand, didn’t turn around to see what was happening behind her, because she knew the dumpster was raising from the ground. The bags that were deposited through the alleyway came back together, all piling into the bin once again. “You think you’re the only one with abilities? I’m with the X-Men. Now get out of my way.”

[lifeinccrnate]

kdxnvers‌:

[📱to Norma Jean 🎤] is it a thing? [📱to Norma Jean 🎤] if it’s not it absolutely should be [📱to Norma Jean 🎤] but it seems like it would be better as a roommate thing [📱to Norma Jean 🎤] unless it’s a cat that loves constant cross-city travel […] [📱to Norma Jean 🎤] i’m /really/ never home, but i would be there to love it at every given opportunity [📱to Norma Jean 🎤] side note, barney is an adorable name for a ferret, and i’m sad i never got to meet them

(✉ → kara-oke🎤): I think we could make it a thing. (✉ → kara-oke🎤): Stranger concepts have taken off, and I could create an Instagram page for the cat! We would get a fanbase in no time. (✉ → kara-oke🎤): Cats /are/ roommates anyway, so that works. (✉ → kara-oke🎤): Do you travel a lot for work? Journalists have to bounce around a bunch, right? (✉ → kara-oke🎤): My friend and boyfriend  My friends are always round at mine while I’m at work, so i would be well cared for. (✉ → kara-oke🎤): What would we name the cat?

[oceanssapart]

There was passion and comfort and need and joy, there was a strength that knew no boundaries, a sense of kindred souls made one, and that whole being far, far greater than the sum of its parts.

– X-Men 2 Novelization, Chris Claremont

[lifeinccrnate]

@thefirstxman