#jeaniegreysummers

[mistressofmagic-a]

@jeaniegreysummers

It had started about a week ago, she had teleported from the tower to Shadowcrest and ended up losing her lunch. And from there, it had slowly gotten worse. Teleporting was suddenly out and then what she figured was a cold had crescendoed into her sitting on the ground in her dressing room at the theater while Jana put on an illusion spell to perform the show herself, leaving Zatanna to recover. It was just a cold - maybe the flu. But when Jana came offstage, she made a point of saying that Zatanna never got sick.

And the more that Zatanna thought about it, she wasn't entirely sure she could get sick. She never had before - and her DNA was questionably mixed. Was it the slime that she had touched on Simon that was finally getting to her? Or had she picked something else up around the lab?

There was only one way to get an answer - and only one person she trusted to take a look at her. Jean. In a flash, she was at Jean's place, knocking on the door before she was leaning against the wall in a sweat and fighting against the feeling of sick that came over her. "I hate hospitals," she said, instead of a greeting when Jean opened the door. "I'm sorry - I should go to one - I know I should I just..." Zatanna looked at Jean with desperation in her eyes. "I'll go if you go but please don't make me go."

#jeaniegreysummers #jean summers: the news #(( zee being dramatic felt right-- ))

[rictorscales]

[ text ]: I’m not responding to this because I have died. I’m dead. Dead people don’t answer texts. // @jeaniegreysummers

(✉️ ➡️ big bird): shit my bad i didn’t realize it was time for your biweekly death (✉️ ➡️ big bird): should i text back in an hour? you’ll be resurrected by then, right? (✉️ ➡️ big bird): or should i just open a quick crater and drop the cop car in it? because frankly, i like that solution better anyway. i only texted the sos as a courtesy 

#jeaniegreysummers #jean: dead

[impulselantern]

“ you son of a bitch. ” // @jeaniegreysummers​

Simon wondered, sometimes, if other superheroes got their starts in ways as convoluted and headache-inducing as he had. Some of the origins he knew, of course --- the bare details of Tony Stark’s were pretty much public knowledge, and Captain America had his own section in the history books --- but Simon couldn’t imagine they all went down like his had. It was hard to imagine Batman narrowly avoiding arrest or Superman accidentally blowing up an abandoned factory. No, Simon’s story was messy and complicated and Jean Grey was a pretty significant part of it.

He still remembered staring her down, hands above his head and ring burning on his finger as she prepared to arrest him. He still remembered panicking and making a break for it, too, still remembered a thousand green car constructs designed to confuse her and her team. And apparently? So did she. At least, enough to bring up a nice ‘son of a bitch’ callback when he maybe kind of cheated in a totally low stakes card game. “Okay,” he said, hands up in a pose echoing that one he’d resorted to back then, “listen. I can explain.” Jessica was gonna be so pissed if an X-Man telepathically shanked him.

#jeaniegreysummers #jean: explain

[vengeancedemons]

[ text ] Why is being alive so expensive ? I’m not even having fun. // @jeaniegreysummers

(✉️ ➡️ fire chick): try burning up an arms dealer. always helps me have a good time (✉️ ➡️ fire chick): how are you broke, anyway? can’t you just walk into a bank and telepathically convince them to transfer a couple million into your account?

#jeaniegreysummers #jean: fun

[firstxman]

@jeaniegreysummers

He’d thought there would be more relief, once Erik was alive again. He’d thought it would ease the weight of guilt sitting heavy on his chest, thought it would make it easier to breathe, just a little. It was stupid, Scott knew, to expect Erik to forgive what had happened. Jean had, when she came back. When Jean came back, she’d been grateful that they’d stopped her doing something she would have hated herself for. She hadn’t held it over anyone’s head, hadn’t hated them for it. 

But Erik wasn’t Jean. 

Maybe it would have come to what it had, even without the Phoenix. Maybe things were always going to end that way, from the time they were teenagers. Maybe Charles had known as much, maybe, as Jean had once suggested, that was why he’d sent them to fight --- because he didn’t want to be the one to pull that trigger. Maybe their mistake hadn’t been killing Erik... maybe the mistake had been in bringing him back. 

The thought left an acidic taste in the back of his throat, and Scott pushed it away because he couldn’t think like that. He still loved Erik like a father, and he was so tired of that relationship always ending the same way. He needed to believe it would be different this time. But... Jean had been casting him careful looks ever since they left Stark Tower, had been hesitant in a way she’d never been before, and Scott could push away his doubts about Erik but he couldn’t push away that. He couldn’t ignore the way she looked sad, uncertain. He didn’t want to be the sort of husband who ignored all that. 

So he slid into the chair across from her at the kitchen table, delicate. “You know,” he said, “I am pretty good at figuring out what you’re thinking, most days.” He offered her a small smile, ducking his head to catch her eye even if the glasses made it hard for her to tell that the contact was there. “I’m still me, Jean. What he said... What he implied...” Erik hadn’t been subtle in the suggestion, planting the idea that Jean was controlling Scott somehow like a careful seed in their minds. It hadn’t taken root in Scott’s, but... Maybe it had had more luck in Jean’s. “I’ve been through that enough times to recognize when it’s happening, and I know you well enough to know you’d never. He was wrong, Jeanie. I promise he was.”

#jeaniegreysummers #jean: wrong

[ghxstwinter]

@jeaniegreysummers​

( 📩 → Jean Grey-Summers ): Hi, Jean. It’s Bucky James Barnes. I hope it’s alright I reached out. ( 📩 → Jean Grey-Summers ): The nightmares. I want them to stop and I don’t know if there’s anything— [UNSENT] ( 📩 → Jean Grey-Summers ): Thank you, again, for all you’ve done for me. I appreciate it more than you realize. Especially after all you saw, I’m sure. Sorry for that. [ .... ] ( 📩 → Jean Grey-Summers ): You’ve already done a lot for me and if this is overstepping, I apologize, I just was wondering...is there anything that can be done for the nightmares?

#int: text #text: jean grey summers #int: jean grey summers #jean grey summers: 001 #jeaniegreysummers

[colleenrand]

@jeaniegreysummers

Colleen had kept her distance from Genosha and most mutants after Jean and Scott’s wedding. It was no fault of theirs, but it had been made clear to her that she wasn’t welcomed here. But… the more she spoke to Scott, the more she believed that the mindset that she had thought was widespread, was something isolated and small. He spoke about mistakes with a level of intimacy that reminded her that they had all made mistakes. Time and time again.

She might not have been a mutant, but he had been clear. Her presence was welcome here.  

And Jean was a woman that Colleen would like to call friend. But she was careful with saying those words, with letting people into that level of her heart because even that had been guarded for so long. Btu Jean had given her so many reasons to look at her like that. Like a friend. Like someone who could inspire — like someone who had suffered in equal measure for all the good that she had done. Like someone that Colleen could relate to effortlessly if she let herself. If she would just open her mouth and speak. Scott had been their only link at first, Jean had been a ghost that Colleen had kept warm for Scott. Keeping her place at his side warm and well cared for, not loved in the way that Jean loved him or that Scott loved Jean. But where they could have fought each other, they had found ground to lift each other up.

“I can’t stop them,” Colleen said, letting out a heavy breath as some of the kids who had offered to help were having a blast trying to hang the posters. They were goofing off and having fun and they all looked so happy. “We need to finish,” Colleen said lightly, “but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen them so happy.” It had been a long time since she had been this happy too. They had all faced so battles in the recent months, all trying to find stable ground in the time of uncertainty. With her hands on her hips, she turned towards Jean, shaking her head. “They’re going to be at that for another hour. I stole some pudding cups if you want one.”

#jeaniegreysummers #jean summers: building together #jean summers: 4

[boomboombaby]

“We don’t have the privilege of sitting aside.”

@jeaniegreysummers

The first thing she thought of when she heard Jean speak — the first person that came to mind, was Cable. That was the exact kind of bullshit he'd be spewing while pulling them into the trenches and acting like the world was just like that. (It wasn't. Not for humans at least, humans got to have things like childhoods and friends and went to schools and colleges and got to be people. Mutants never had that privilege. They never had any.)

"I hope you know how fucking annoying you are, big bird," Tabby muttered, crossing her arms, she didn't move though, didn't go tell her to fuck herself. (Maybe, because for once, the world wasn't fucking Tabitha. She didn't understand what was happening here, but people were shifting, being hurt by the worst parts of themselves — and maybe that was just a testament that Tabby was already there. Already the worst version of herself.) "When was the last time any of us had any—" Tabby managed to cut herself off before she started arguing with Jean just to argue. "If I help do I get to be an X-Man?" This though, came with a smirk. (It'd never happen.)

#jeaniegreysummers #jean summers: privilege

[anxietylanterncruz]

“ you’ll be happy to know that the boys are gone. ” 

@jeaniegreysummers​

Jessica was on the bathroom floor of the bar, her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Work was supposed to be a strategic way for her to branch out, have life outside of her apartment — but tonight? It was too loud. Too many people, and then a group of men being… Jessica inhaled deeply, pushing the thoughts from her mind, trying to focus on anything but the noise that had been growing on the outside of the bathroom door. A gentle knock reminded her the door was locked.

She shifted, enough to unlock the door and then pull it open wide enough for Jean to slip inside. Jessica shut the door behind her and relooked it. “I know — I over reacted. I should go back out there, but I—“ Jessica was back on the ground. Her hands in her hair as she paced her breathing. “I would have called Simon but…” Simon would have understood, maybe not perfectly, but he would have understood. But not like Jean. Guy would have probably come but he would have made things worse. Kyle would have come too — he would have been a safe bet. But still, she chose Jean. She needed a woman who understood. Who got that Jessica didn’t want a violent outcome — and that the men that had been in the bar were entirely harmless, it was just Jessica that had been overwhelmed.

#jeaniegreysummers #jean summers: bathroom rescue

[phoenixtouched]

[ text ] I think I figured out a way to take you guys out of your funk. Ice skating. 

@jeaniegreysummers

(✉️ ➡️ Mother Unit ): I thought long, dramatic walks in the rain would work better. (✉️ ➡️ Mother Unit ): Why /ice skating/? Do you know how to ice skate? 

[...] (✉️ ➡️ Mother Unit ): I’m doing something with Ric that day. Sorry.

#jeaniegreysummers #jean summers: busy #( im so SORRY SKSKKS she's a teenager but not )

[mistressofmagic-a]

@jeaniegreysummers​

Zatanna was standing in Jean’s living room. Her home had changed a lot in the few short months that had passed. There were touches of Scott across every room and then there was another set of hands that seemed to adjust the furniture and make themselves at home. A new face in the photos — one that Zatanna didn’t recognize… but she did at the same time. She was the spitting image of Jean and Scott. But grown. And too old to be theirs naturally. She glanced at Jean, a small smile on her lips as she pointed to the picture. “I thought I missed a lot in the two years I was gone, but…” There was no offence on Zatanna’s face, only a small flicker of joy.

(Her first assumption was that a family member had fallen into this dimension — much like Miggy had. And it was almost sad that Zatanna’s first instinct was to assume the impossible, but… the impossible had always been within reach. Especially for people like them who often created their own realities.)

There were so many things that they could talk about, the months that had been so crammed full of bullshit that neither of them had been able to reconnect the way that Zatanna had hoped… Though, while Zatanna would have said hers was filled with that — it wasn’t. Some parts of it were, but the ring on her hand that had felt so foreign a few months ago, now felt like a standard part of herself. As natural as the magic words she used every day. But the woman in the picture standing by Jean and Scott and the ring on her own finger felt like a drop in the bucket compared to most recent events.

“I came here to see if you needed anything. The first month is always filled with people bringing over food and people who say they understand, but then it drops off.” Grief, in the minds of those not actively going through it, seemed to have an expiration date. Zatanna had firsthand experience with that. “So, I’m here. Whatever you need. Food — I can stock the fridge; I can make you something you can freeze and throw in the microwave as you get hungry. Or I can provide a distraction. I am told I am very good at misdirection.” She would have let it seem like a joke if the offer weren’t a serious one. Sometimes talking helped. Other times? Having a moment of normal did, too.

#jeaniegreysummers #jean summers: life goes on #jean summers: 3

[daisyquakes]

@jeaniegreysummers​

Genosha wasn’t anything like Daisy remembered from her first trip, and she wished she could have blamed it on Erik’s absence, but the reality was that this place had changed and evolved and become something new over the last few months. Shedding the past and becoming something new over and over again. In some sense, it felt like Afterlife. Where her mother had ruled with an iron fist that pretended to be gentle but was ruthless in the dark — and every sign that she had seen about Erik had pointed to the potential that he was made of the same things that her mother was. Ready to sacrifice everything in order to keep what he wanted to protect. (Nothing being more important than his own kind.)

There was an unspoken grief that came with the memories of her mother, the kind of ache that carved your soul into something new without you realizing. And it wasn’t until she was knocking on another door that she felt it. That she was grieving Erik but she was thinking about her mother in the same beat of her heart. Thinking of her mother’s hands on her face, her dark eyes looking into hers while the life fluttered away — she wouldn’t have survived without Cal’s intervention. (But part of her hadn’t survived.) This wasn’t the same as that, Daisy told herself. Erik was trying his best to protect the people that he loved. The missiles pointed across the river towards the city filled with humans was just paranoia and nothing would have come from it. Daisy told herself that time and time again, repeating it out loud like a mantra. Willing it to be true if she said it enough times.

Jean stood in the doorway and for a moment, Daisy looked at her with complete silence. That excuse in her head that told her she shouldn’t be this hurt when Erik was just a man who was there when it was convenient. That she had no business feeling this way — that Jean had lost someone important to her and that Daisy was robbing her of her grief by feeling it too deeply. And that argument, somehow managed to still her voice and help level her mind. “Jean,” she breathed her name, only knowing it because they had gone to the same party a year ago now. “I’m so sorry.”

#jeaniegreysummers #jean summers: what wounds us #jean summers: 1 #death mention tw #grief tw

[impulselantern]

@jeaniegreysummers​

(✉️ ➡️ what’s up doc): hey, you’re a doctor, right? (✉️ ➡️ what’s up doc): hypothetically (✉️ ➡️ what’s up doc): in your professional opinion  (✉️ ➡️ what’s up doc): if someone got drunk and drank a bottle of shampoo on a dare (✉️ ➡️ what’s up doc): would they live? or would they slowly die of shampoo poisoning?  (✉️ ➡️ what’s up doc): hypothetically! 

#jeaniegreysummers #jean: hypothetically

[vengeancedemons]

@jeaniegreysummers

(✉️ ➡️ fire chick): you ever use that telepathy shit to get time off work? (✉️ ➡️ fire chick): you ever use it to get /other people/ time off work? (✉️ ➡️ fire chick): like, are you morally opposed to that? (✉️ ➡️ fire chick): really not feeling like fixing cars today. could use a telepath.

#jeaniegreysummers #jean: telepathic favor

[firstxman]

[ text ] have you heard from LORNA? they’re not answering their phone! // @jeaniegreysummers

(✉️ ➡️ Jeanie): Jean... (✉️ ➡️ Jeanie): Something’s going on with her. (✉️ ➡️ Jeanie): With Lorna. (✉️ ➡️ Jeanie): I saw her earlier. She’s... (✉️ ➡️ Jeanie): Not herself. (✉️ ➡️ Jeanie): Jean, I think /she/ might be doing all this.

#jeaniegreysummers #jean: lorna

[kxtepryde]

closed starter for @jeaniegreysummers​

Kitty had been leaving a careful space around Rachel, as she settled into a new time and a new place. Maybe that’s why she found herself invading Jean’s space, instead.

Or maybe it was that Jean hadn’t said much since. She’d been absent from the chaos of the group chat, a careful bubble of her own that Kitty was scrambling to understand. If it had anything to do with Scott, or Rachel, or Erik. Maybe it was because there were still cookies in a plastic bag on Kitty’s kitchen counter she couldn’t bring herself to finish, and maybe Jean would have answers. She’d always been just as much a leader as Scott; she was gentle and kind and firm when she needed to be. Someone to look up to when Kitty was thirteen and her whole life was changing, when she was twenty-five and it was all changing again.

If anyone had answers, it was Jean. If anyone could make sense of it all, it was Jean. And Kitty more than owed her a conversation, regardless. She’d kept a fairly large secret of her own, after all. One she thought she’d have to hold with her the rest of her life.

(She still had one, small in the grand scheme of things. She wondered if Jean could already tell.)

“I’m sorry.” Kitty started as she walked through the door, knocking and pushing it open even if she was sure Jean knew she was coming. “For not telling you, for keeping her a secret. It just– it felt like it was her secret to tell, some day.”

#ff: jeaniegreysummers #ff: honesty #jeaniegreysummers 001