me as an empath:

ABOUT BASICS

FULL NAME: Jean Elaine Victoria Elizabeth Grey

ALIAS: The Phoenix

AGE: Thirty

AFFILIATIONS: Ex-Founding Member of X-Men(disbanded due to low living membership, Ex-Member Hellfire Club,

GENDER AND PRONOUNS: Non-Binary They/She

FACE CLAIM: Zazie Beetz

IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS

POINT OF ORIGIN: Primarily Comics with some slight influences from the animated series. With 59 years of her appearing in comics there are many runs and timelines and universes I’ve used to craft Jean into a fully developed muse. Most of her storyline comes directly from earth 616, running all the way to Phoenix: Endsong with some canon divergence taking place in obviously her culture and gender.

ABILITIES/SKILLS: Telepathy, Telekinesis, Psionic Shield, Psionic Firebird, Access to the Phoenix Force (extremely taxing mentally and physically in this world) Cosmic Pyrokinesis. Anything power associated with the Phoenix Force can not be used constantly unlike her naturally occurring mutant powers which do not cause her extreme drain.

HAVE THEY BROUGHT ANY FAMILY OR PETS WITH THEM: No.

ANY HEADCANONS YOU WANT OTHERS TO KNOW: Jean Grey has died 9 times, at the claws of her logan 8 times and once burning up in the sun. The last time they died and were resurrected by The Phoenix they bonded with the force and in a screaming explosion killed Logan and Scott.

QUESTIONNAIRE

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER FEEL ABOUT EMPEROR DOOM?: Jean is grateful, for being pulling out of the loop of death and fiery explosion, and even more thankful that their appreciation for history was taken into account in their placement. But they’ve been at the center of too many men playing god by pulling their strings to fully trust or even fall into perfectly loyal step. Until he gives her a reason Jean will happily take her sabbatical.

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER FEEL ABOUT THE BATTLES? ARE THEY TRYING TO AVOID THEM? OR ARE THEY EAGER TO JUMP IN? With a lot of anger and bitterness and limitless untapped potential Jean has found themselves watching battles with a sharp eye, she’s been holding herself back for two decades, what would happen if she just. Let Go?

@latverionstarters

with  :  @empathphoniex​ where  :  xavier institute

there  was  a  significant  time  of  his  life  where  the  school  was  the  most  familiar  place  on  earth.  he  could’ve  mapped  it  out  backwards,  upside  down,  every  nook  and  cranny.  he  thought  being  back,  in  this  replica  that’s  real  enough  to  care  for,  to  want  to  do  good  by,  would  still  feel  wrong  and  off  kilter.  it  had,  early  on,  but  all  he’s  really  done  is  continue  to  warm  to  it.  scott’s  never  managed  to  go  long  without  something  to  look  after.  

every  corner  of  the  place  is  littered  with  memories.  scott  loved  xavier’s.  it  hurt  and  hurt  because  he  loved  it,  isn’t  that  always  the  way  things  go ?  nostalgia  bleeds  from  the  walls,  but  he  hasn’t  yet  been  walking  around  seeing  ghosts.  until  now,  apparently,  except    -

he  peers  out  of  the  room,  mostly  expecting  to  see  an  empty  hallway  and  proof  of  his  own  longing.  instead,  it’s  exactly  what  he  thought  he’d  seen  passing  by.  exactly  who,  more  like,  may  very  well  be  the  person  he’d  most  recognize  on  any  planet.he  calls  out,  curious,  phrased  like  a  question  though  he’s  never  been  more  sure  he’s  right.  it’s  saying  something,  for  a  man  that’s  most  always  rooted  in  his  own  correct  opinions.  ❛   ——   jean ?   ❜

☄️— Conversations with the DoomMart version of Logan left Jean sizzling with untapped energy. It made the empty ache in their chest grow until they were sure the wound would be big enough that all of the power inside of them would be able to escape. Jean had more power on the tip of their tongue than they ever had in the past, and still they were empty.

Getting to this world, Latverion, Battleworld, Doom’s Sandbox, Jean had jumped at the chance to leave Xavier’s behind. The bitter taste of teaching the students that then turned their abilities on her had still coated Jean’s mouth. So they had bowed out of being Headmaster like they had before the Phoenix, gratefully taking the job of active retirement. Now though, with Logan beneath her skin, Jean felt the ache for how it used to be, to put the shattered things back.

The click of her shoes echoing against the stone walls was so haunting Jean thought for a moment it really was all a dream. She would wake up, in the arms of warm lovers and teach and scold and laugh. Then, as if plucked from her deepest truest desire a voice calls out. A million hearts broke in their chest all at once. “Scott?” They wanted to reach out and take his face in their hands, comb through his every thought, they wanted him to be the Scott they had— But even now, they knew.

her words don’t really reassure him, nor does it quell the very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. with a shake of his head, he looks back to her. “ yeah yeah hang on. ”  he mutters before kneeling down and putting his gloved hand on the ground.  dozens of flittering spores swirl upward and begin to be carried by the wind. 

 “ well – looks like the wind’s moving to the east.  if you look, there’s more dense growth in that direction. ” he rises and steps to the east. “ right , but i think you forget … magneto knows you, he doesn’t know me. and i don’t know anything about him other than the basics, but he doesn’t strike me as a benefit of the doubt type. come on , this way. ” 

☄️— jean was good at that once. reassuring people, being a comforting presence when the team went into situations too tense or too perilous, where their nerve was more important than any power. the phoenix had no use of soothing frayed nerves, what did a cosmic entity want with the comfort of friends. but the longer the two danced hand in hand, jean and phoenix, the blurrier the lines of who’s wants were who’s became. they had almost made it to the statue, less the a couple dozen yards, the time to decide who jean was was coming up.

magnetos features blurred, red and yellow spores a blanket covering the monument. beautiful and brilliant mushrooms thick at the base, expelling thousand of spores from their gills.

their hand flew out to stop clint by his chest, their fingers gentle against his person, pads of fingers light as they pushed again, reaffirming him to halt. finally they turned to face him fully, gaze warmer than it had been before, searching his face. then, jean grey did something she hadn’t done in ages, opened her mind to someone else. <<feel how calm i am. i am going to get you home to whoever you’re going home to. i promise>> they showed him a smattering of surface memories, times when magneto had been dealt with, or shown her respect and fear. then most importantly, the moment magneto was consumed by phoenix fire erupting from jeans hands. <<i promise.>>

😈 — Runes of magic spawned; bright and violet and fusing into a shield from her outstretched hands. “Aw. You’re just saying that.” The thought that this other Madelyne hadn’t been nearly as up front about her feelings, it made the Goblin Queen pity her. “Right. I should have asked first: Did you ruin her life too?” Not that the answer could change anything. Maddie swung her arms back, flinging the rest of the debris outward and dispersing her shield. Grin now clear as day without the distortion of magic between them. “Hello.” 

“ hey you know – well i guess you don’t know, but if it’s one thing, i am a gentleman .” clint smirks and follows jean across the threshold that the fungus has created. it truly was fascinating – and he’d wished that it was something he could have shown kate or natasha.  he finds himself wondering if the fungus felt like it looked it did.  was it hot? did it burn the skin?

“ so — ”  he murmurs lowly, stepping beside her. “ what happens if this plan goes south and magneto can tell i’m not a mutant.  do we have a plan for that? we should come up with a plan for that.  … you know.  just in case. ”

☄️— “magneto isn’t foolish enough to go after me without a plan, and besides it all, he’s not a psychic or an empath, for all his power he isn’t an omnipresent god.” the looming gaudy statue of him a glaring counter point to their argument. jeans fingers waving off the statue as if it was irrelevant, disturbing the spores in the air. the empath almost didn’t notice it

@empathphoniex​​ | jean

😈 — Time was of the essence. If Madelyne had sensed the Phoenix, than surely the Phoenix had sensed her. There would be no upper hand here.. but she could get the first psionic punch in. Which was, comparably, the size of a sedan barreling through the saloon.

☄️— There was a buzzing deep in the back of the empaths mind, like a mosquito had gotten a hold of of a microphone pumped directly into their cerebellum. The familiarity clicked in the last moment. Oh Fun. Wood exploded into their saloon as a psionic fist burst through. There was a wild burning anger, energy younger than Jean’s but as sour cherry as their memory of her had been.

💙 — As subtle as she was being, he felt the difference. Like their hands, if placed upon his head, were too light. Too warm. Rays of the sun. “I shelter the ones who need sheltered,” he proudly explained, chest filling with that warmth. “Ja. Its their smiles I worry about most.”

“if it did, honestly i might have to kill it.” he joked, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he sat back in his stool, thankful he had good balance. there was a quiet moment between them, it was nice and he found that he was enjoying it. not many folks avidly let his presence be around them for too long. “yeah,” he stated, almost in a dream-like state, his mind still wandering in places he knew he shouldn’t let it. “it keeps me busy, you know? if i didn’t have that then i’d sure as shit - well, i wouldn’t be here having chili and a few drinks with you. i’d be in that pit of death they call the killiseum.” he grabbed at his drink and took a soured gulp, an attempt to wash the sins down.

at their voice, he turned to meet her eye. “no, no you haven’t.“ he wanted to ask more, wanted to pry - but frank felt he really just wasn’t privy to that information. still, it seemed that jean was opening the door for him. a small smile found its way to his lips as he took another sip of his beverage before picking up the spoon to the chili. “but if i can ask, what makes you say that?“ and then a pause, “i had a wife and kids once.“

☄️— violence on a micro scale, it made good people’s stomach turn, and for all of franks transgressions jean had learned picking through his mind, he was a good man. violence on a macro scale was harder to imagine, an entire universe consumed, they wondered how he would weigh their sins if he knew. “i’ll take you sharing a meal with me over watching your body being treated like a meat bag for the crowds any day of the week.”

it didn’t take a psychic to hear the finality of past tense in his voice, his family wasn’t lost to doom’s whims, no his grief was something solid. “oh you know, ruggedly handsome, tracking mud and blood everywhere” jean kept her tone light here, easing the last bit of tension and unease. she had the worming impulse to stroke her thumb over his knuckles, soothing him that last bit more, that she had once with logan… before her grief was something solid too. “he was a mercenary, mostly, but he just, wanted to do that job that let him say no to the next job, unless of course the next job tugged at his heart, and the next job always tugged at his heart…” jean smoothed a bit of her corset that had creased as she leaned against the bar. “…your shoulders are the same kind of heavy… i think in another world you could have been drinking buddies.” her sweet cocktail turned bitter on her tongue.

he laughed again, thankful for the saloon to be filled with mostly regulars that tended to ignore him and his conversations. frank took the opportunity to steal a gulp of his own drink when jean did and set it down around the same time. “you ever get tired of doing your job?” he asked, quietly and sincerely. painfully and horrifyingly slowly, frank’s memories began to flood his mind like snapshots of a fucked up variety. in that moment, his gaze drifted and fixated on a wooden knot spot on the bar.

shaking his head and offering an embarrassed smile, frank looked back to jean and listened to what they had to say about jackal. “ugh, bugs. no offense to bug lovers but that ain’t me.” he shook his head again and finished up his drink, quietly asking for another and handing money over to her - “consider this a tip, i’ll just keep an open tab for now if that’s good with you?” he wasn’t ready to branch back out quite yet and realized he wouldn’t be able to when jean asked him to wait.

when she came back with food, frank’s stomach made a gurgle noise the moment the scent of the chili and cornbread hit his nostrils. “i watched the register, it stayed put.” one of the regulars laughed at the lame “dad” joke, which made him smile. “i’d ask how you knew i was hungry but i learned a long time ago not to ask questions i don’t want answers to. thanks, i mean it.” reaching for his own spoon, he happily began to eat. “this is good.”

☄️— “I was afraid it might grow legs and run away—“ Jean smiled, freely and truly, almost shyly the phantom pain in her stomach waning as he ate. “I know you’re hungry the same way I used to know my husband was, because this is your first stop after the mines, because you work too hard Frank.” Their voice gentle, full of empathy, it wasn’t the first time she had mentioned her husband to Frank, not many details had been shared, but grief, that they had allowed the bounty hunter to know of her.

💙 — He found her words to be kind, and comforting. He smiled. Even as those words of pity echoed in his head, he found reasons to keep smiling. Seeing theirs, more than enough. “Predictable, no?  Even across the multiverse?” he offered with sweet laughter. “Wherever I can be most help. I learned from the very best.”

☄️— The quiet gnaw of the phoenix deeper in their mind kept Jean from dropping too many walls. Kurt had never raised a hand against her, not even in the end of her universe, when they were ripping holes in the fabric of reality. But there was a danger in loyalty too, so they kept their mask firmly in place. “The most help does seem to be making people smile in this world… there doesn’t seem to be anything else to do, not anything kind.”

💙 — It was muscle memory, teleporting at Jean’s designation. The picture pops into his head and BAMF he’s there; walking out of a puff of violet smoke. He doesn’t quite understand what he is seeing— at first. He knew what he felt, knew who this was, but she was different. And the pain he saw in her eyes, it cut him deep. <I’m sorry, my friend> he replied telepathically. Inviting them to peer into his mind. They would find warmth there, and the same twist of longing in his heart. “I do not believe I am.” 

it was nice having jean there. a comfort of a person that he sort of knew and felt like they knew him entirely. it also kinda weirded him out but… he wasn’t going to begin to try to understand anything involving anyone else past the surface level. he’d learned that lesson ages ago. still, jean was cool - and someone he’d come close to calling a friend.

as soon as she finished pouring, frank offered a smile and thanked her before taking a sip. the cool amber liquid happily finding its place in the home of his stomach. empty stomach - he really needed to grab something to eat soon. when jean responded to him, he couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. “come on jean, don’t go giving away that secret part of me - i gotta remain a hard-ass for my clients and my bounties.” he joked back, offering a quick but sincere smile to them. when the glass went across the bar, frank watched in stilled amazement - not daring to ask anything that went past ‘how’d you do that’ and ‘please tell me that isn’t magic’. he’d seen it before, but it didn’t stop each time being surprising. “eh, sat next to some guy in a dog mask and talked to him about the morals of right and wrong - he was more entertaining than the fights, trust me.”

☄️— Maybe old habits died harder than Jean had planned for, Franks own silent acknowledgment of his hunger causing a pang in her stomach, mirroring what he felt. “Your secret is safe with me…” The mutants eyes twinkled with amusement, well earned crows feet crinkling as she smiled. Another sip of her drink, much sweeter than what she had poured for the bounty hunter, hiding most of her grin behind the cup.

Pretending to be surprised would do no good for the pair, so Jean simply raised her eyesbrows in acknowledgement “Oh Jackal? Yes I would agree….. though I can also imagine talking about scarab beetles with him would be more interesting than anything else happening around you .” A compliment and insult rolled into one. The empathic ache in herstomach rolled again. “Watch the register for a moment?”

☄️— Vivid dreams has plagued dreams stretching back forwards and backwards in time, if there had been a time where Jeans dreams were peaceful she did not remember it. Not only nightmares, but brilliant colors and flooding euphoria too, but still, how was one suppose to rest in technicolor 4D? Tonight? Tonight had been a nightmare.

White hot rage, burning in from the inside out, tear tracks evaporated from the fire of a sun. Silk shirt torn to shreds, familiar claw marks leaving it hanging in tatters. Dying, over, and over, and over. Time rewinding, pleading, the claws coming again. Utter loneliness. The spark of connection, acceptance, power. The voices of lovers bashing harshly again eardrums. That fire, that anger, burning everyone in sight. Everything in abstract. But in an instant it was a perfect mirror if a memory. Scott’s eyes wet with tears forcefully held closed as Jean powers ripped his visor from his face, psionic fire burning him to ash. Logan’s yell of grief, her hands reaching to her stomach, where his claws had marked her, then a surge of power as she reached out through their bond, and scattered his cells across the cosmos.

So Jean hadn’t been so keen on returning to her bed, despite the mattress being the one form of anarchism she allowed herself, mental exhaustion and her body being wired fought, and in the end, her body won. Boots and a robe pulled on the mutant had made her way to the outskirts of town, where if you looked just right you could pretend there wasn’t anything outside of timely, you could forget the wretched reality you had landed in.

Heavy footsteps caught her attention and Jean turned to where the sound came from, and before a true thought could run through her mind an honest sob tore its way out of her throat. There, covered dust and looking worse for the wear, but alive and breathing stood Logan Howlett. Her hand shot out, meant to be a warning to give her a moment to stay back, instead a wave of solid psionic energy shot out towards the other mutant.

“Who the fuck are you.”

Perhaps the threatening quality of the statement was lost by the sobs that were racking through her form, unable to breath or think, rage and grief dancing, the spark of phoniex fire beginning to wake.