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dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes · 13 days ago

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Thank you for not thinking I was judging. I wasn’t.

They did do Ororo dirty in the movies. She is so much more powerful than that. She was treated like a Goddess in Africa as a child because of her powers. It was Charles who showed her there was more to the world than that.

Google docs is a pain like that. I have the same problem. Betas do help but it isn’t always easy to find peeps who have the time especially when you get so excited to share.

I have that issue a lot.

I’m writing two Poolverine fics. If I didn’t have a friend or two who I could tell I’d end up posting it, mistakes and all as I write. I totally understand.

One is a series, Delta Team (an omegaverse Poolverine x queer!mutant!OC) and I have so many timestamps without finishing the main fic. I even have a second major fic started for it. 🤦 Lol! I’m over 10k into the fic and ain’t quite done yet.

The other one, also Poolverine x OC, just sort of happened and is about a crimelord finding out what the OC can do and wanting her to use her as the guys work to keep her safe. 😊

He Brings Me Flowers: (Sex Pollen/Logan) Part One

Hey hey heyo

I'm only a few days late and this is only half the fic, but I promised I'd publish this sooner, so I broke it in half. I'll probably post a full version too at some point.

Warnings: Sex Pollen, some fighting, plants!, surprise lesbians, newly married Jean/Scott, reader is in 1rst person because I write better that way usually, a lot of internal talking, negative self image, kinda of a cliff hanger, no sex specifically but people get a bit frisky.

I promise I'm trying to finish the rest, but my brain cells are tired

Word Count (I shouldn't tell you): just shy of 10k for this one

tagging @gothamnighthawk because I took a screenshot (promptly forgot which thing she wanted tagged in and took the last 20 minutes verifying I had the right fic)

[Masterlist]

[Logan List]

[Part Two!]

Here we go!

It all started with what sounded like a basic mission, recon only, investigating a base that had been found in a dense forest a few miles outside of a small town I’d never heard of, just across the Canadian border. The rumor was that the base was working on creating new biological weapons, but when I landed the jet, all we’d really found was a sudden, inexplicable, field of flowers.

Honestly, the place was extraordinarily beautiful, like stepping into a whole different world. The field was entirely surrounded by trees, sentinels against the outside world, holding the flower field in its arms like it was afraid they would escape. Perhaps that should have been warning enough… something too pretty in a place it shouldn’t be.

No one seemed to have any issues as we approached. And there were a lot of us, considering it was a simple recon mission, but it was a chance to stretch everyone’s legs, so basically anyone who wanted to come along had been allowed to join.

Jean and Scott hadn’t been on a mission at all since their honeymoon, so they signed up. Rogue had been asking to go on a mission for months now, and Ororo only let her because she tagged along to keep an eye on the younger woman. And then there was Logan, who just seemed to be the default on every mission. I heard Scott joke once that they needed to bring him to ‘take the dog for a walk so he didn’t chew up anyone’s shoes’.

Oh, and of course, there was me.

I really enjoyed going on missions, but mostly because I really enjoyed flying the jet. It not only was a blast, but it made me feel useful, which was nice, because my mutations didn’t really seem all that great compared to everyone else’s. All I could do was freeze someone in time for a bit, which sounds far cooler than it is, and there weren’t exactly a lot of cases for that being particularly useful. I’d only really ever used it to hold someone until someone more important than me could come get them. And even that was rare.

At the end of the day I was just really fancy handcuffs.

Logan and Scott were bickering while we made our way through the flowers. In patches the petals were yellows, some as big as the mammoth sunflowers my aunt used to grow, and some smaller petalled ones that looked like black-eyed-Susans. Another patch was all creamy whites, three or four different petal groupings. One patch was pale orange, another, brilliant reds. Some looked familiar and some were totally alien to me. It was almost as though every flower someone could think of was here in the field around us.

Jean and Rouge were walking behind the boys, trying to deescalate, and Ororo was right behind them. She seemed just as interested in the flowers as I was.

“Wouldn’t be a mission without those two fighting, would it?” Ororo’s voice came from beside me suddenly. I nodded.

“I swear, I don’t even hear it anymore, it’s just like how I got used to the train whistle when I lived near a crossing,” We laughed.

“Do these flowers seem off to you?” Ororo asked carefully. It was almost as though she was trying to check to see if she was hallucinating or not.

“I was wondering how they got so many varieties to bloom all at once,” I agreed. “Because back that way I saw a whole bunch of flowers that shouldn’t be blooming this time of year, right next to ones that shouldn’t be growing this far north at all,”

“Maybe they have something to do with the intel we received,” Ororo said.

“What are you ladies talking about back here,” Logan’s voice drew both of our attention away from the patch of warm golden flowers we’d been admiring.

“Do these flowers seem weird to you?” I asked him. Logan’s eyes traced my face quickly before he glanced across the field. Ororo smirked at me but I ignored her.

“Not really,” He shrugged. “It all smells the same,”

“What does it smell like?” Ororo asked, obviously hoping for some sort of insight.

“Flowers,” He said unhelpfully. Ororo rolled her eyes at him and went to catch up with the others. Leaving me alone with Logan.

Who was staring at me.

“What? Is there something on me?” I asked, alarmed. With this many flowers around, it wouldn’t be a surprise for there to be all kinds of bees. I wasn’t allergic that I knew of, but I also didn’t really want to find out otherwise.

“Nothing,” Logan shook his head. “Just thinking about how it’s been a while since I’ve seen you out on a mission,”

“I literally fly you to every mission,” I rolled my eyes at him and started walking again. I didn’t want to get too far behind everyone else. Not to mention, being alone with Logan had the bad habit of making me daydream about him falling hopelessly in love with me one day.

Which I knew for a fact, was delusional at best.

“Well yeah, but you usually wait in the jet,” Logan pressed. “It’s nice to see you out,”

“Just another person for you to show off for, huh?” I smirked, thinking I caught him.

“Nah,” He disagreed. “I don’t show off for those losers,” He nodded towards the group ahead of us with no malice in his tone. “I only show off for pretty girls like you,”

I scoffed.

“Laying it on pretty thick today,” I rolled my eyes at him even though my cheeks were red. Logan chuckled and I hated that I had the feeling he knew exactly how warm his compliment had made my chest.

But I also really wished he wouldn’t tease me so much. I knew he wouldn’t want someone like me and that he only did it to make my blush and nothing more. We were coworkers, neighbors kind of since we both lived in the adult dorms, and sometimes I’d even dare to say we were friends. But anything other than that? There was no way. He only called me pretty as a favor, a harmless tease, the way I told every cat I saw that he was handsome. And I mean, every cat is handsome, so maybe that isn’t the right comparison.

All I knew was that Logan wouldn’t want to fall in love with me. No one ever did.

I had convinced myself I was just fine with that. Just like every other boy I’d ever gotten feelings for. I was a friend at best, never a girlfriend, never even someone to fuck. I’d made my peace with that as a young woman who found herself surrounded by doors that stayed shut, stayed locked, stayed with their flashing signs that read “Love Inside: No Admittance.”

We came upon the building not long after. It looked remarkably like an office building of some sort, but it was only one story tall and sprawling. Logan, as always, led the charge inside, checking corners and doorways as we made our way through the surprisingly unlocked front doors. I stayed with Ororo and Rouge who were both better in hand to hand situations than I was, even though I had gotten pretty good at sparring. Mostly that was thanks to Logan who taught me how to kick someone’s ass without worrying about hurting them, as that had always been an issue I had sparring with the other women.

I was simply… bigger than them. Both taller and thicker. Hell, I knew for a fact you could add Ororo and Jean together and I’d still have about 30 pounds on them. Not to mention the time I’d given Ororo a black eye when she had finally convinced me to spar with her, and that was the same day I’d knocked the wind out of her when I wasn’t even trying to.

Clumsy at best, uncoordinated. Not really useful for much of anything when you can’t even control your limbs correctly. Why would they bother to bring you on missions if you couldn’t fly the jet?

We didn’t see much of anything on the first level of the building. A few cameras mounted high on the wall, but they were all busted and clearly not functional. Empty offices with dusty shelves and overturned chairs. A pile of metal folding chairs collapsed near the front doors.

One room was full of empty flower pots, which was strange but harmless. Honestly, it looked as though no one had even set foot in the place in several years.

The lower level showed signs of life, but not signs of weapons being made.

The level appeared to have been mostly conference rooms originally, large glass windows looking into square spaces from a nondescript hallway. The first one was mostly empty, the only thing left was another stack of those uncomfortable metal chairs pushed against a wall. A large, dark stain, bloomed in the middle of the carpet. It smelled like mold and must.

Most of the other rooms were filled, or at least partially filled, with vines. The whole level smelled thick and cloying like a greenhouse with all the fans off. No airflow. All green air and black earth.

“Never seen anything like this before,” Jean mused.

“What, you never saw Little Shop of Horrors?” Logan asked.

“Let’s hope this is nothing like that,” Scott slid himself into the conversation, as he always did when Logan talked to Jean.

“Nothing seems to be moving,” I added. “But everything seems to be alive,”

“Unsettling,” Rouge shivered at the thought. “And weren’t there supposed to be people here?”

“Oh god, I hope they aren’t in there with all those vines,” I felt my throat constrict at the thought.

“I don’t really want those nightmares,” Scott agreed.

“I don’t sense anything with a heartbeat,” Jean soothed our worries, but seemed a bit nervous about whatever it was she did sense. “Not here anyway,”

“Are you sensing something somewhere else?” Scott paused in front of her, his hands going to her arms to sooth her. They were sweet, Scott always coming to Jean’s aid, trying to make things ok for her in every way he possibly could. I often wondered if I’d like to be taken care of like that, but I figured it would make me feel like a child, and I hated being treated like a child.

Jean said something back to Scott and he smiled at her softly.

After a while, watching them just sort of hurt my teeth.

I paused at a desk that was half covered with the greenery spilling out of the room next to it. It almost looked like the vines had either pushed the desk out of their way, or were trying to pull it back in. And these vines seemed to be leafier. Broad expanses begging to get sunlight. I wondered who would be cruel enough to grow plants like that in the dark. Or rather mostly dark, as there were a few fluorescent lights still doing their best.

Under the reaching leaves, I found some papers. Most were water damaged and useless, but one appeared to be an old magazine clipping of a man smiling at the camera, a greenhouse in the background. The way the picture had been torn from the magazine had removed the top half of the man’s head, but you could still make out the smile, still see the teeth.

There was a boy next to the man, but the boy wasn’t smiling. He was holding a potted plant to his chest, as if hoping he could hide behind the many different flower heads all coming out of it. He wore a black jacket that seemed all the more dark next to the taller man’s white lab coat.

“I found a picture,” I said, just loud enough that the others could hear. “Not sure it means anything,”

“Let me see it,” Ororo came and took it from me. “Hmm, don’t those look kind of like the field outside?” Scott took the old clipping from her next.

“Yeah, seems close enough to be related. Think the boy or the dad is behind all this then?” Scott asked. He flipped the image over and part of the article was visible, but he didn’t bother sharing it with the class.

“That’s an old magazine,” Logan said, not needing to look too close. “I’d wager the son,”

“Ok, but either way, why would they be making weapons out here if they were plant people?” I asked. “I haven’t seen anything to suggest a weapon is even being made here.”

“There’s someone coming, hide,” Jean said suddenly. Everyone moved without questioning her.

Ororo pulled Rouge under the desk I’d been searching, the vines hanging down enough to shield them. Jean and Scott moved to slide into the nearest-to-them conference room, barely squeezing in amongst the plant life there.

I looked around, panic in my chest as I realized I didn’t have anywhere to go. The conference room to my direct left had vines pushing their way out the door. The desk was already hiding two people. I couldn’t help but freeze as I realized there was nowhere for me to hide and I was too big to just slide in somewhere. I’d get caught and blow the whole mission.

Logan caught my eye and came running towards me, which honestly, didn’t help my panic. I opened my mouth to tell him to hide himself, but he was faster than me, covering my mouth with his hand. His other arm came around my middle, holding me flush with his chest, effectively stilling us both and preventing me from making any noise.

I tried to wiggle away from him, confused as to how us standing still was going to prevent us getting caught. Logan just shushed me, and held me tighter as he listened for the threat I was sure he’d be able to hear even though I couldn’t.

Heat bloomed in my cheeks at the nearness of him. He smelled like leather and his last cigar and whatever it was he put in his hair. I heard him sniffing, trying to figure out where exactly the threat was, and probably what it was.

“Come on,” Logan’s voice was low and directly against the shell of my ear and it made me shiver. He took my hand and pulled me with him, back the way we’d come, but only into the previous section hallway so that we could hide behind the open fire doors. One side was off its hinges, leaning heavily against the wall, the other side was only partly open, making a nook between the metal and the wall behind it.

Logan pushed me into the space first so that he was on the outside should anyone or anything come for us. Always the ‘walk on the road side of the sidewalk’ type.

“I could just freeze them maybe,” I offered in a hoarse whisper.

“We don’t know who they are or what they can do,” Logan’s whisper was harsher than mine. “Best let me handle it,”

Normally, I would have sassed him, but my heart was in my throat as if this was the worst possible game of hide-and-seek. Which, it kind of was.

There was a loud banging and the sound of someone cursing at themselves. I could almost make out their muttering as they made their way down the hall to where the others were hiding. I couldn’t see much through the opening at the hinges, but I could see the edge of the room filled with vines and make out the corner of the desk.

“Hmm, didn’t think you’d make so many leaves down here… brave girl,” A male voice praised one of the vines. I could just barely make out the reflection of his back on the glass window of one of the nearer conference rooms. He wore a white lab coat that was clearly dirty at the bottom like some mad scientist. Working with plants was dirty work, so I guess the look was warranted at least.

The man turned and began walking our way again. I felt Logan’s hand press itself against the soft part of my hip as he reached blindly behind himself to find me. He wanted to know where I was so that if and when this went sideways, he could step in front of me. I knew how he was, always a protector, and me always needing protecting. That was part of why I often stayed in the jet on missions. I didn’t want to get in his, or anyone else’s, way.

I turned to look up at Logan, listening to the mad scientist muttering to himself as he checked another section of vines. I hoped Logan could read my face as I tried to tell him not to worry about me. Logan held my eyes and I gripped onto his arm as the muttering got closer. I watched in fascination as Logan raised his free hand and his claws came out, slowly enough that they hardly made any noise at all. He looked back out the open side of our hiding spot.

I tugged on his sleeve, trying to draw him closer to me, farther from where the door wouldn’t cover him well enough. He cast me a glare that normally would have had me shrinking away from him, but as much as he wanted to protect me, I needed to protect him too. I shook my head at him, begging him to stay put. Begging him with my eyes, please, for once, just stay still.

The muttering suddenly stopped and I held my breath. Just as Logan made to move, I touched the back of my hand to his cheek and he froze, my powers temporarily holding him out of time.

I felt bad for having done it to him as I knew it wasn’t a fun experience. While it did not have any lasting effects physically, the entire time you were frozen, you could not breathe (not that you needed to), you could not move, you could not do anything but perceive the world around you. The longest I’d ever held anyone was just shy of 47 minutes. And I hated that someone had had to experience it for that long just to prove something to Charles, who had requested such a test.

It had been one of the scientists that Charles had hired on as an intern at the time, a young man who’s name I didn’t remember. I did, however, remember how he told me it was fine, that he could take it. We even did a short session first, just a few minutes. Then he wanted to see just how long I could hold him for. Everyone else involved was so fascinated the whole time, even the scientist who had had to suffer for me to learn about myself. To learn how hard it got to hold someone like that. How I felt them struggle against my teeth.

And the scientists had learned that my powers simply paused the existence of someone, and then when I let them go, they were fine as though no time had passed. Their bodies, perfectly fine.

The mad scientist went on his way down the hall. Muttering about fertilizer and wondering where he’d left his coffee. His lab coat fluttering behind him as he went.

Once I could no longer hear him, I touched Logan’s cheek again and released him from my hold. It was easier to let someone go if I touched them again, but it wasn’t really necessary. My hold would wear out eventually, and Logan was always quicker to flee my hold than most. I figured it was because he struggled more than others.

He took a deep breath, grumbling a bit as he adjusted to having control of his limbs back, and glared at me.

“What the fuck was that for?” He demanded.

“I didn’t want you to hop out and start clawing people without knowing what’s going on,” I snapped back. “And I could tell you were about a half a second away from doing just that,”

Logan glared at me some more, but then shook his head, not wanting to admit I was right.

“Let’s go get the others,” He said, taking my wrist and pulling me back into the hallway. I pulled my arm from him, rubbing the warm spot he left behind. Without the threat of being caught, him touching me at all seemed really uncalled for. Entirely inappropriate.

And something I knew I’d commit to memory for the next time I wondered what human connection felt like on a physical level.

But whatever, he shouldn’t be touching me… but since it was for extenuating circumstances, I supposed I could let it go for now.

“Thank goodness you two are alright,” Rouge’s accent always got stronger when she was worried. “Did you see where he went?”

“He was headed for the stairs we took to get down here,” Logan told her. He was hovering near me, and I wondered why I had the feeling he had something he wanted to say to me. But when I looked up at him, question marks in my eyes, he looked away.

He didn’t normally look away from me, and it stung. But now wasn’t really the time to be That Girl about it. If he was going to be mad at me, I could apologize again later and he’d forgive me. He always did.

“Well I say we go thata way,” Scott deadpanned, though he clearly said it like that to get a reaction. He was pointing in the opposite direction of the mad scientist.

“I hate to agree with Cyclops, but,” Logan chimed in.

“He’s right,” Ororo said, brushing a wayward bit of plant matter off Rouge’s back. “And we should hurry to find our information before that man comes back this way,”

We moved faster now, not stopping until we found what was clearly the only office still being used as such. There were about fifteen different computer monitors stacked up on each other. Some were the big old CRT monitors, flickering dully with lists of data. Most were newer models, LCD screens or what seemed to be old flat screen TVs. Some were bolted to the wall.

Ororo and Rouge went to investigate the computer screens closer, reading the data and trying to figure out what he was doing. Jean joined them after a moment of whispering with Scott. Part of me always felt like she was up to something when she did that, but Logan told me he could always hear what sappy shit they were saying and that I wasn’t missing anything.

I had told Logan once that if he ever saw me get like that about a man he should just kill me. Logan had laughed, and promised me he would.

“Well, looks like we’re dealing with the son,” Logan said. He had gone to dig through a pile of papers and manilla folders. He held out a newspaper and I took it, reading the headline.

“‘Henry Mitchelle, Father of Renowned Botanist Prodigy Malachi Mitchelle, dead at 52. Cause Still a Mystery’.” I said aloud. I skimmed the article. “Sounds like daddy dearest’s greatest accomplishment was having his son. And this says the police should blame Malachi for the death, since Henry had been of solid health until suddenly he, well, wasn’t.”

“He had heart failure, which had nothing to do with me.” A new voice said from the door that none of us had thought to watch. Everyone turned to him, ready to fight. He held up his hands as if he were surrendering.

“That why you started making weapons?” Logan asked. He was the only one that didn’t look like he was ready to fight, but I knew he was likely to be the first one to get in front of whatever Malachi would surely throw at us.

Malachi scoffed loudly. He was probably 35 or so, his hair needed a brush and probably a good scrub. There were soil smudges on his cheek, his forehead, and on every article of clothing he wore. His hair was mousy brown and his eyes were a terrifyingly bright shade of green.

“You think I make weapons?�� Malachi sounded like we had just accused him of trying to water a fake plant. “The reason I’m out here in the middle of nowhere is so that everyone and their uncle will stop asking me to make them weapons. I suppose that’s why you’re here, you all look official.” His tone conveyed his annoyance with the idea of “official” anything.

“We’re not government,” Scott offered. Malachi stepped into the room and took the newspaper out of my hand. He ignored Scott entirely.

“My dad always told me that I was so gifted, that I could change the world. But he also wanted the money, so he sold me off to whoever wanted my plants for the highest price.”

“I’m sorry he was like that,” I said, empathetic. I knew far too many people, fathers or otherwise, that likely would have done the same. “You deserved better,”

“I actually had ‘better’ too, my mother.” Malachi’s face softened with the memory of her. “But she passed as well, someone told me once it was careless to have lost both parents,”

“Are the flowers for your mother?” Ororo’s voice came from behind me. Malachi’s neon eyes turned to her.

“Originally, yes, and she loved them. I call them Feel Good Flowers because they helped the body release happy chemicals,” He smiled so softly at the memory. I wondered how this man could be dangerous. He mostly seemed to be sad, but content enough to keep living.

“I take it dad wasn’t thrilled with your Happy Flowers,” Scott said. He was standing in front of Jean and Rouge, who were both still trying to investigate while we held Malachi’s attention.

“They were deemed ‘inefficient, ineffective, and useless’ so… no, my father wasn’t exactly proud of them. Couldn’t make him money, couldn’t bring back the dead,”

“Sounds like a jerk,” Scott’s attempt to hold Malachi’s attention was weak, but worked well enough.

“It was a blessing when he died,” Malachi agreed. “Even if they tried to blame me for it,”

“Nice sob story, bub,” Logan said, obviously bored with this conversation. “So what are you doing out here then?” I felt my gut twist with the way Malachi’s eyes turned to Logan. Logan clearly felt the shift too because he was suddenly a lot less nonchalant about this whole thing.

“Trying to be left alone,” Malachi’s voice grew echoey as he snarled the words.

“We were told there were weapons being made here, that’s why we’re here…” Ororo tried to cut in. Normally, her voice was soothing and cut the tension. I’d seen her talk down several potentially dangerous mutants before, which was also why she made an incredible vice principal at the school.

But this time she’d picked an unfortunate choice of words.

Malachi’s eyes were fully glowing suddenly, just like he was a halloween decoration with those stupid LED eyeballs. A loud crash came from behind us and the wall broke in, vines shooting through.

A flash of Cyclop’s eye bolts cut through most of them. Another crash and this time, the ceiling came down under the weight of thick plant life. There was shouting and I reached forward, trying to grab Malachi. I figured I could freeze him and it would hopefully stop the vines.

But Logan was closer, and saw my play, so he stepped between us, swinging claws at the scientist’s face.

“Cut the crap, asshole,” Logan snarled as Malachi dodged him. “We were playing nice,”

“You came in here to disturb me,” Malachi moved away from Logan easily as vines tangled his legs. Logan fell to the ground with a grunt, but was able to slice the vines off in one easy swing.

“If you’re out here killing people with plants, yeah!” I shouted after him. I was out in the hallway now, both trying to be out of the way, and block Malachi from escaping towards the stairs. Malachi laughed.

“The only people my plants have killed are the ones who came in here looking for weapons,” His face, which had been so normal before, was now a twisted snarl. “Care to be next?” The skin of his lips, and the waterline around his eyes, both seemed to have darkened to a deep green. His eyes still glowed that eerie LED green that was unsettlingly fake, but only because I knew he wasn’t made of plastic.

“How about we don’t kill anyone?” I offered. I eyed the vines that were now crawling on the floor towards me. They curled up on themselves when they got cut down the line. I saw Logan move away from the spot the vines ended, chasing after Malachi.

“Y/N, take Storm and Rouge back to the jet, we’ll handle him,” Jean said, pushing Rouge in my direction.

“What? We can help!” Rouge snapped.

“We can cover that end of the building while Logan deals with Malachi,” Ororo’s soothing voice came out again and Rouge bristled at it. But also, Ororo had a point. Plus, I could work on getting the jet ready to go, and it would keep Rouge, who was still not really an official XMan, out of harm's way.

“I’ll keep the seats warm,” I relented easily enough, even though the roar I heard down the hall made my anxiety spike. Logan was fighting hard, and the building shook every time he took a hit. “Y’all best go get Logan in check before they collapse the whole building,” Another crash and Jean winced, knowing it was just a matter of time before I was right.

“We’ll go get him,” One could never see Scott’s eyes, but you could sure hear how hard he rolled them whenever Logan was up to his…shenanigans.

I grabbed Rouge’s arm and turned her towards the exit, cutting her off in the middle of arguing with Ororo about how the fight was being broken up.

“Trust me, no one’s going to get to fight much, you aren’t missing anything,” I told her. She brushed me off with a huff.

“I know, but I hate feeling like I’m being sidelined just because I’m a newbie,”

“I’ve been doing this for ages, and I get sidelined more often than not,” I said, a poor attempt to sooth her ruffled feathers. “There are worse things than being needed elsewhere,”

Rouge groaned because she knew I was right.

We made pretty good time getting back to the first floor. As soon as we saw natural light again, we all sort of sighed in relief. I think we were all a bit nervous about getting buried alive and didn’t want to admit it.

The floor behind us shook as vines shot up through it, a wave in the ocean of speckled beige. When they receded Logan’s body was lying face up and groaning on the old tiles.

“You know what? Fuck this guy,” Logan muttered as he hauled himself to his feet. A blast from Scott cut through the same hole Logan had just popped out of. “Watch it Summers!”

“Come on,” Ororo grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the fighting again. Logan looked up and our eyes met for a brief second. I knew he’d be ok, but I hated how many hits he always seemed to have to take first. As I turned to look where I was going, I swear I saw him wink at me.

Even in the middle of a fight he found time to tease me. He really was a bully at the worst times. I told myself I didn’t care if it made my chest warm to see him so at ease in a fight.

Plus, I sometimes wondered if he liked getting hit.

“Can’t go that way!” Rouge’s voice cut into my thoughts as a mass of vines covered the front entrance.

“I thought he wanted us to leave?” I groaned. The vines tangled into each other and seemed to solidify into a new wall. “You got anything Miss Storm?” I asked. She thought for a moment.

“I can’t do anything inside the building with all the windows blocked.” Ororo lamented.

“Logan!” Rouge’s voice shouted behind us. “We can’t get out!”

“He’s a little busy,” I rolled my eyes looking for something to help us. There were some more old chairs, but that didn’t really seem useful at the moment.

“Never too busy for you,” Logan’s voice at my shoulder made me jump. He’d come running when Rouge shouted but it always surprised me how fast he was when he wanted to be.

“Think you can open the doors for us?” I asked him, pretending he wasn’t smiling at me. Pretending he didn’t look amazing fresh from getting shoved through who knows how many walls (and also the floor) of the main office.

“One weed wacker, coming up,” Logan unsheathed his claws with a smirk and I rolled my eyes at his joke wondering how long he’d been working on that one.

Logan chopped through one layer of vines, just for it to be replaced by another. He growled and went after it with both hands, but still, each vine he cut was replaced by another.

The floor shook and jostled me into the useless metal chair pile that occupied the space behind me. The noise was far more obnoxious than the pain it caused me. Rouge cursed as she also lost her footing and landed against the vine wall. Luckily, the vines didn’t seem to care since she wasn’t trying to prune them.

“You good, sweetheart?” Logan called over his shoulder, still slicing at the wall.

“I’m fine,” I snapped, pulling myself back to my feet. It was hard to stand up again because the chairs shifted and I couldn’t get a good spot to push myself up from. Plus, if I were honest, I had landed on something pokey that jabbed me in the ribs hard enough to make breathing hard for a second, but no one needed to know that. They’d just worry about me and we didn’t have the time for that.

“Hurry!” Ororo shouted at Logan.

“You wanna try it?” Logan snapped back angrily. Ororo rolled her eyes at him.

“Umm, guys?” I swallowed hard as I watched a mass of plants swell up through the hole in the office floor. “That doesn’t look good,”

“Where are Jean and Scott?” Rouge asked.

“Want your friends back?” The voice sounded like three or four of Malachi all speaking at once. I felt my stomach drop. Wherever his mutations were made him look like a monster now. All glowing bits and the wrong colors. “Have them back!”

Suddenly another couple of vines burst through the floor and flung two bodies at us. They both slid to a stop in front of me and Ororo.

“Scott! Jean!” Ororo cried out. They both got to their feet and dusted themselves off.

“Hey guys, the elevator here sucks,” Scott coughed. Jean smacked his arm. “What?”

“We need to get out of here,” Jean told him as though that wasn’t already obvious.

“Trying to, but this wall is really persistent,” Logan grumbled.

“The vines are trying to protect him,” Jean said. “Which means they’ll only let him through,”

“And that helps us… how exactly?” I demanded, watching as Malachi and his vines moved closer. If he moved slowly to toy with us or to give us time to realize how futile fleeing turned out to be, I didn’t know. I was more confused as to how things had gone so far south so fast. Malachi had seemed reasonable enough…right until he started glowing.

“Like this,” Jean held up her hands and Malachi’s advance froze. “Logan?” Jean asked in the same tone of voice she’d use for the most mundane requests.

“Yeah?” He sounded skeptical of this whole situation.

“Go stand by the girls please,” Jean nodded towards Ororo, Rouge, and I. Logan raised an eyebrow but took the three steps he needed to clear the doorway. Jean turned and thrust her arms out.

With a multilayered scream, Malachi and his chunk of vines blasted their way through the blockaded door.

I peered through the opening long enough to assess that Malachi was down for at least a few moments, and before anyone else said anything, I moved to push Ororo and Rouge, the closest two to me still, out the door.

“Time to go!” I shouted. The others all agreed and the six of us bolted out into the afternoon sun, back out into the impossible field of flowers.

We could hear Malachai groaning as we hurried past. Maybe we should have checked on him, or arrested him, or something? But we were all too ready to be back on the jet. We could come back for him another day, much more prepared for him.

“Why do I always park so far away?” I complained as we moved through the field. Everyone else was what felt like miles ahead of me and I could distinctly hear Malachi and his vines moving behind us. I risked looking over my shoulder and almost instantly tripped over my feet and crash landed into an entire bush of flowers.

I heard the stems break under my body and something in me lamented that I’d killed such a beautiful plant. But then I noticed why I had actually tripped. The vines were under the ground now, wiggling their way between the plants so as to not disturb them.

“Y/N!” Someone shouted my name and it felt so far away. The flowers that lay crushed on the ground beneath me looked like white chrysanthemums, each flowerhead the size of my fist, only they had red stamin sticking out of them. They were so beautiful, but also alien to me.

“Just go!” I shouted back, getting to my feet. “The vines are underground!” I added. I noticed then that the mound of vines that had held Malachi had disappeared.

And there Malachi stood where we’d left him, still as a statue, as a breeze rushed through. The wind kicked up dust from around what might have been a million different flowers. I felt the fine powder get whipped against my face and closed my eyes against what felt like the tiniest grains of sand. I coughed, knowing it was surely in my lungs too.

When I opened my eyes and looked at Malachi standing there in the distance, he was tousled and dirty, but also looked almost exactly the same as when we first saw him. He didn’t move to follow or attack us anymore.

And his eyes were no longer glowing as he stared blankly after us.

I caught up with the others just as they got the jet’s door open. It always took such a terribly long time to let the ramp down when we closed it, which was why we usually left it open for a quicker getaway. But since no one was sitting with our only ride home, we decided to be more careful and close it for once.

“Move, move, move,” Logan’s voice was loud as he ushered everyone on board. I noticed that the front of his uniform had the same fine dust that had pelted me in the face after I’d tripped. I probably wouldn’t have noticed had it not been for the fact that Jean had left a barely there handprint in the powder on his chest when she touched him as she climbed on board the ship.

It always annoyed me when she did that to him. Jean had literally married Scott less than six months ago and yet she still touched Logan like they were maybe more than friends. Not that it was any of my business, but leave the poor man alone.

Nevermind the green thing in me that wished I was allowed to touch his chest like that.

Scott was flipping switches to turn on the jet as I crested the ramp. I counted that we had everyone on board and hit the button to close up the hatch again.

“Well, that wasn’t great,” I complained, moving to the captain’s chair and shooing Scott from the controls. When I sat down I noticed that my chest felt funny, like I’d been holding my breath too long. And I was really warm, like maybe I was getting a fever.

“Scott?” Jean’s voice was worried and of course, her husband came running to her. I tried to tune them out while I finished the sequences to get us fully airborne.

“Something’s off, something doesn’t feel right,” Jean was almost babbling. I had to focus on getting us safely into the clouds, so I didn’t notice the change things took until I heard Logan swear.

“What the fuck you two?” His anger made me turn in time to see Jean straddling Scott’s lap while she kissed him. Clearly with tongue.

“I… I need you,” Jean stammered into Scott’s throat. Scott seemed to be under the influence of whatever nonsense had its hold on her too, as he was not trying to stop her from kissing him, nor from grinding down on his lap. When she moved up, his suit was clearly struggling to contain whatever it was he kept in his pants.

“Guys!” I snapped.

“Can’t…stop,” Scott panted. “Need you,” The second part was directed at Jean. I scoffed out loud and turned back to the controls because I really needed to get us to the altitude to use the autopilot. It took all of two minutes max, but with the idea of what was happening behind me fresh and spiky in my mind, it made it feel like a hell of a lot longer.

And my head was feeling strange, like maybe I was getting a migraine or something.

I could hear a scuffle and some moaning as Logan tried to break apart the lovebirds.

“Don’t make me shoot you,” Scott’s voice was low and a kind of menacing that I didn’t know he was capable of.

“You wouldn’t risk bringing this entire jet down just to get your rocks off,” Logan was clearly struggling with someone else while he snapped at Scott.

“MMm,” Jean’s voice moaned. “Logan,” I stood then and punched the button for auto pilot with my entire fist.

“What the actual fuck is going on back there?” I demanded turning to face them. Jean was trying to rub herself on Logan, begging for any sort of friction while he did his best to keep her at arms length. I felt a sharp hit of anger and jealousy ricochet around my ribs. It was stronger than any such similar feelings I’d had before and I was confused as to why I suddenly wanted to grab Logan and pull him behind me.

Or under me.

Shaking that thought from my head, I tried to ignore the heat on my face.

“Need Scott,” Jean said, sounding like she’d forgotten what syllables were. “Or Logan,” she purred his name in a way that made me want to jump out the window. Logan shoved her back at Scott, who happily caught her.

“Both of you knock it off,” Logan reprimanded them as though they were children. But when he turned to look at me, it was obvious that part of the reason he’d shoved Jean off was because whatever it was that had affected them was doing something to him too. “Fuck,” The curse was quieter and more to himself as he shivered.

“Is it actually getting really hot in here?” Rouge’s voice was shaky as she asked.

“I think we were drugged,” Ororo managed. She had a light sheen of sweat forming along her brow as she watched Scott and Jean making out like teenagers. Her eyes were stuck to them as though looking away would be a crime.

“How? When?” Logan snapped. He looked a bit twitchy, standing too close to the lovebirds. “You two need to fucking stop,” Irritated both for good reason, and for the uncomfortable pressure that was forming in his chest.

“Storm?” Rouge questioned as Ororo put her hand on her thigh, far higher up than was normal for either of them.

“Marie, since when do you smell so nice?”

“Ok, I am not dealing with this,” I said, feeling a weird mix of fear, anxiety, and heat blooming in my chest. “Everyone, it’s nap time,” I decided all at once. I had no idea if I could hold more than one person at a time, but if ever there was a need to…

“You taste sweeter than sugar, honey,” I felt the blood rush to my ears and to my stomach as I registered the Ororo and Rouge had just kissed. I had to physically push Logan out of my way so I could make a direct path to the original problem… Jean and Scott, who were about three seconds from peeling off their suits.

I grabbed each of them by the back of their neck, as if scruffing a misbehaving pair of puppies, and pulled them apart. They both looked up at me in shock for a moment before falling back together, limp and frozen in time.

“Secure them in their seats please,” I commanded Logan as I made my way over to Ororo and Rouge. Logan finally moved to do as I asked and I wondered if he was feeling the same wobbly feeling I was as I stopped in front of the next pair of us.

“Yes ma’am,” Logan purred and I ignored that wave of want that his graveled voice pulled through me.

Ororo and Rouge at least appeared to be trying not to cause a scene, but they were eyefucking quite openly. And their hands were wandering.

“It hurts in my chest,” Ororo told me as I pulled her hand off Rouge’s thigh. Rouge whimpered at the loss, but had steeled herself for at least the moment. “Like I need to touch her or I’ll die,” she sounded so scared. I broke my heart because I didn’t know what was going on and so I couldn’t help her. Or my other friends.

“We’ll get you home and Hank will know what to do,” I assured her. The best I could think of.

She buckled herself into her seat as Rouge reached for her arm, begging for contact again. I pressed my fingers against Ororo’s cheek and her eyes went hazy and she went limp, her seatbelts holding her upright.

I had never figured out why some people froze more solidly than others. Logan always seemed to keep his feet when frozen, but almost everyone else turned into noodles. I turned to Rouge who was looking at Ororo with a sort of pained look that I couldn’t place. It was somewhere near lust, of course, but there was something that spoke of fear in it too. I wondered if either of them had lusted for a woman before.

“I promise, I’ll release y’all as soon as I can, so please don’t fight me,” I told her. I wasn’t particularly southern, but y’all was something I’d picked up from someone and never managed to put back down. I touched her face carefully and she laid back in her seat, her hand still resting on Ororo’s arm.

“How are you so calm?” Logan demanded through clenched teeth. I could feel my heart beating at a higher rate than normal, but if Logan thought I was calm, he didn’t realize that. Which was good, he didn’t need to worry about me.

Also alarming because usually he could tell when someone’s heart was racing (and he’d teased me about it more than once).

“I was hoping you weren’t being affected,” I groaned. My head felt full of cotton, like everything was in a soft focus and there was tea waiting for me when I sat down, that kind of feeling.

“All I can smell is them,” He growled, taking a step towards me.

“Sit down and buckle up,” I told him, my voice a bit shaky. There was a terrible ache between my thighs, like someone had scooped out my insides and were about to carve me like a pumpkin.

Logan stepped closer and for a second I thought he was going to listen. If I had them all held, maybe it would be easier. Maybe I could focus on holding them still instead of the fact I really wanted to know if Logan’s tongue tasted like cigars or not.

I bet it did.

“I want to smell you,” Logan’s pupils were blown beautifully wide. “And only you,” he was staring down at me like I was the only thing in the entire universe. I wished it was true, that he felt that way about me. But I knew it was whatever we’d been covered with. I knew it wasn’t real.

“Sit down,” My voice was weaker than I wanted it to be.

“Why can’t I smell you?” He was almost just talking to himself, annoyed that he could smell everyone else’s arousal over mine.

I walked backwards towards the captain’s and copilot's chair, pleased that Logan followed. But I wasn’t quick enough and he managed to get his hands on my hips. I brought my hands up between us, pushing him away.

But he was always so much stronger than me, so I struggled to get any space between us. Besides, as soon as he was in my space, something in me really wanted to drown in him instead. Consequences be damned.

“If I drop you here, I can’t lift your heavy… heavy ass off the floor,” I panted as he leaned down to inhale deeply at my throat. I surprised myself at the whimper that left me when he placed the first open mouth kiss at the only skin exposed on my neck over my suit.

“Fuck,” He moaned so low in his chest I could feel it vibrate in mine. “Let me just… just touch you for a second,”

“Logan, it’s not real,” I told him. It didn’t ease the ache in my gut but it helped keep my mind clear. Plus there were four different strings already pulling my brain tight. I was wildly, uncomfortably aroused, but I wasn’t about to lose control just because the man I had a crush on was kissing my neck.

When did he unzip the top of my suit to get to more skin?

“Please,” He moaned against my throat again. “Just one kiss, then I’ll behave, promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” I murmured, trying desperately to push him away. But it felt so nice to have him like this. It was something I’d thought about far more times than I’d ever admit to anyone. And my hand was in his hair.

But it wasn’t real, he didn’t really want me.

Why would he?

“Y/N,” Logan groaned as his hands moved to find my chest. I gasped at the sensation of his warm hand covering one of my breasts. I wanted so badly to surrender to the feeling, to let him touch and feel and devour me whole.

But I knew it wasn’t real, and that hurt differently enough that I finally got my last two working brain cells together to push him off.

“Fuck, Logan, sit your punkass down,” I snapped, feeling tears in my throat. It would be so much easier to give in. To at least feel something good for once. To finally figure out what it would feel like to be with him.

But it wasn’t real, wasn’t real, wasn’t real… and I knew I would hate myself when it was over if I gave in now.

Logan gave me a sassy smirk, watching me breathing hard as a reaction to him and what he’d done.

“Don’t you feel it too?”

“I don’t feel anything,” I lied. The snap of my words seemed to surprise him, but only deterred him long enough for me to sit myself in the Captain’s chair and buckle in. “Now, don’t touch me,” I commanded him. I knew if he touched me too much I’d give in. That at some point, the effects would overwhelm me too. Best to keep him away.

“No,” He growled. “Wanna smell you, wanna touch you, wanna fuck you,” His eyes were so hazy and it made my center pulse with need and that empty, endless ache. But the endless ache was an old friend, I’d sat with her before. I could sit with her now too.

“I need to call the mansion,” I told him.

Maybe ignoring him would help keep him at bay. I knew it wouldn’t. Even without the nonsense going on, he’d never been a particularly good listener unless he wanted to be.

And he sure didn’t want to be right now.

“Don’t interrupt or I’ll not let you smell me ever again,” I told him. This seemed to work better as he sat cross legged next to me on the floor, perked up like a dog waiting for a bone after having done a trick. I felt a wave of lust wash over me at his eagerness to please me. My core ached, knowing he’d gladly lap me up for his reward.

“Did you find it?” Charle’s voice over the radio should have been a relief but it made me angry because it wasn’t the right voice. But I bit back my annoyance and tried to respond coherently.

“We’re flying back.” My voice was choppy as I took too many breaths. “I have everyone but Logan frozen, we…we were dosed with something,”

“Y/N,” Logan grumbled impatiently.

“What’s happening?”

“Umm…” I suddenly was too embarrassed to say what was going on.

“Y/N? Is everyone alright?” The alarm in Charles’ voice snapped my brain cells together with enough force I was able to manage one sentence.

“They’re trying to fuck each other,”

“Oh.” The embarrassment would have killed me had Logan not gotten impatient and started sniffing along my leg, pressing open mouth kisses along the seams of my pants. I swatted at him, trying to get him to knock it off. He just smirked and kept pressing, glad to at least have my hand in his hair.

“I have them frozen, but Logan…” My voice got caught in my throat as Logan moved to bury his face in my hip, nuzzling and smelling his way up my ribs until his face was in my armpit. “Jesus fuck, knock it off,” I whined like a kid who was late for nap time. All upset and no anger. I felt tears in my eyes and in my throat because this was all simply Too Much.

“Are you safe to get everyone home?” Charles redirected. I grabbed Logan’s face and glowered at him.

“Take a nap,” I told him and tried to snag him in my powers. It worked but he was frozen with an arm across my lap and his face trying to find a way into my suit. “Sorry, I had to freeze Logan too, but he’s harder to hold onto.” I tried to keep my words even. But I could feel all five of them now, like trying to hold onto the strings of too many balloons but only with my teeth.

“Y/N, can you fly everyone home?”

“Yeah, I think so. Best prepare them for us, tell Hank it was Malachi Mitchelle, maybe that’ll help.” Logan’s string slipped in my mental grip and he growled as he pulled himself free.

“Gotta go,” Logan said loud enough for Charles to hear as he sat up on his knees to turn off the radio connection. “Now, you,” His eyes were hungry and his gaze made my insides twist with want.

“Logan, please just stop,” I begged. I was specifically trying not to feel anything for him, to not let him do something he’d regret later. I knew he didn’t want this. At the moment, I’m not sure any of us really did.

“No,” He challenged me. Logan’s hands traced my body, one moved around to the inside of my thigh and inched its way closer to my center. He held my eyes, daring me to tell him I didn’t want this.

But this wasn’t about what I wanted.

“It’s not real, you don’t want this,” I felt those tears again, warm in my throat and stinging behind my eyes. He looked up at me and brushed the tears from one of my cheeks with his thumb.

“No, I do want this… I’m always gonna… never going to stop,” He was breathing heavily but smirking. My center pulsed and squeezed around nothing because dammit all if that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear.

Logan’s smirk got lost when he buried his face into the crease made by my leg and hip. He breathed in the scent of me again and the moan that escaped him had my heart ricocheting in my chest.

“Never going to get enough of the smell of you.” I found my hands in his hair, fingers intertwined in his tuffs as if I had the strength to pull him away from my lap.

“Why?” I asked more as a general question, ‘why is this happening to me?’ or ‘why do I bother trying to be good?’ or maybe even a bit of ‘why would you say that to me?’

“Cuz I love you,” Logan murmured against my stomach. I looked down at him, that ache in my pelvis shimming at the closeness of him. But the ache in my chest? That longing for something real? It burned brighter. I knew he wasn’t trying to tease me this time and somehow that made it worse.

While influenced he probably thought he was telling the truth.

I couldn’t take it when I knew the fall would come when this madness passed. The look in his eyes when he realized ‘oh god, what have I done?’.

I felt tears in my throat again. I wished what he said was true, that his ardent behavior was stemming from somewhere real and true. But it wasn’t.

It simply wasn’t.

I grabbed his face in one hand, the other still in his hair, and squeezed his cheeks together while he looked at me like he never wanted to look at anything else.

“Go the fuck to sleep, you petulant child,” I ground out, all the anger in me aimed at myself and the fact that I had to deny myself this wonderful thing. This thing my body craved.

This time, Logan’s eyes went hazy and blank, his jaw went slack, and his limbs all buckled under him. I finally had him wound tight enough to hold.

But now I had to hold him, and the other four, for the next 43 and half minutes. Which was the expected time remaining, according to the flight data that flashed on one of the panels. I had no idea if I could hold on to everyone that long, especially Logan who was too good at shaking off my powers.

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

[Part Two!]

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howlsofbloodhounds · 5 days ago

Text

The Effects of his Captivity:

I’m yapping as I go so things might be repeated and disjointed sjsheoeb

The effects of solitary confinement for 17–20 years, compounded by erasure from existence, being forgotten by loved ones, and surviving only due to the power of six human souls, would likely devastate Color on every level—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

The scar from the human’s killing blow and the busted skull would constantly remind him of his defeat and the cost of his decision.

The scar across Color’s chest, combined with a busted skull and the fact that his body is only held together by the souls of the fallen children, would cause constant, likely debilitating pain.

The pain would not only be physical but might also affect his nervous system, creating a sense of heightened sensitivity, numbness, or confusion in certain areas of his body.

The missing eye socket and the physical instability caused by the six souls could result in constant discomfort, with his body held together by an unnatural force.

The loss of one eye results in limited vision, leading to disorientation or an inability to perceive his environment fully. His reliance on other senses might have intensified during his long isolation.

Though his body remains animated through the human souls, the sustained trauma would lead to deterioration in his physical form. Despite being “alive,” his body could be slowly degrading, leading to a weakened, frail state, susceptible to further injury or collapse if the soul power fades.

Without natural healing mechanisms, he feels fragile and unstable, living with the fear that even a minor incident could cause him to dust.

Isolation and lack of physical activity would lead to a decline in motor skills. Even with the souls sustaining him, his body would feel awkward or disconnected from his movements due to the prolonged lack of practice.

Being erased and forgotten would create a sense of identity erosion. He would question his own existence, asking, “Am I even real if no one remembers me?”

The replacement by Undyne would deepen this feeling, leaving him with thoughts of worthlessness or expendability. Being erased from existence and replaced as his brother’s sibling could shatter Color’s sense of self.

He might feel like a hollow shell, disconnected from his past, his identity, and even from the idea of family. This loss of identity could lead to deep confusion and a constant struggle to find meaning or purpose in his existence.

Prolonged isolation often leads to hallucinations, disorganized thoughts, and paranoia.

With only Gaster for company, the lack of meaningful interaction and emotional support would likely exacerbate feelings of detachment from reality.

With no one to communicate with besides Gaster, Color would experience intense loneliness. The human need for social connection becomes exaggerated, possibly leading to an almost desperate mental state.

His mind becomes fragmented, with periods of dissociation or even delusions where he might question his own existence, identity, or even whether he truly deserves connection.

He may mentally replay the moment of his decision to sacrifice himself and the souls, analyzing it endlessly and second-guessing if it was the right choice. This fixation could lead to rumination, spiraling into depression and self-blame.

While in solitary confinement, Color’s mind would likely sharpen its focus on survival. This could manifest in an almost obsessive attention to maintaining his existence, perhaps in unhealthy ways like fixation on the six souls that keep him alive or obsessive thoughts about what could have been.

His mental state would likely shift from coping mechanisms to raw, desperate survival instincts as time passes.

The combination of isolation, guilt over his past actions, and the fear of fading into nothingness could cause Color to experience significant paranoia. He might fear being forgotten again, rejected by any potential new connections, or being discarded once again.

This paranoia could cause him to avoid making meaningful bonds, driven by the constant anxiety that no one would ever remember or care for him.

Knowing the six souls are tied to his existence, he feels profound guilt over using their power to remain animated, questioning whether his survival is justified.

The choice to sacrifice himself and the six children to save his timeline would weigh heavily on Color’s psyche. The emotional burden of having made that decision—likely seen as a selfish act, despite its altruistic intent—could plague him with guilt, making it difficult to reconcile his actions with his current state of existence.

The scar, both physical and symbolic, would constantly remind him of the lives lost and his perceived failure.

With no outlet for his feelings, Color could harbor intense anger, not only at the people who forgot him but also at the world that allowed him to fall into such a fate.

This anger might turn inward, manifesting as self-loathing or projection of his frustration onto Gaster or even his past self. He could experience periods of violent outbursts, fueled by the intense emotional overload.

The most defining emotional toll would be a profound feeling of abandonment. Color would be haunted by the belief that no one cares about him anymore, having been forsaken not only by his family but by the very timeline that once needed him.

This abandonment would likely result in a deep sadness and longing for connection, especially with those he once loved. He wonders if he is fundamentally unlovable or unworthy of remembrance.

This loneliness could manifest in a desperate need for validation once freed, making him overly dependent on relationships (e.g., Killer, Delta, Epic, potentially Abyss, Gaster especially.)

Being forgotten by his loved ones, replaced as an older sibling, and erased from existence leave him grieving not just for his relationships but for his very sense of self.

He may also mourn the timeline he tried to save, feeling like his sacrifice was in vain if it resulted in this outcome.

He could harbor anger toward the human for putting him in this position, toward Gaster for not being more helpful in the Void, and even toward himself for making the choice to sacrifice himself.

This anger could fuel a determination to prove his worth or, conversely, lead to a sense of bitterness and hopelessness.

In the face of overwhelming despair, Color might latch onto a mission or role (e.g., helping people, trying to rebuild his identity) to feel meaningful again. His fear of being forgotten may make him try to be indispensable to others, risking burnout or exploitation.

After escaping the Void, Color developed an intense fear of being alone again, leading to overattachment to those who show him kindness, like potentially Delta, Epic, etc. He goes to extreme lengths to stay connected, even if it puts him in harm’s way.

The scar, the damaged skull, and the missing eye feel like visible reminders of his failure. He struggles with feeling grotesque or unworthy of acceptance.

his own suffering make him highly empathetic toward others in pain, particularly those who feel abandoned or forgotten, like Killer. This shared understanding make him a deeply loyal and supportive ally.

The lingering guilt and despair may cause him to devalue his own life, making him reckless in dangerous situations. He might see his survival as unearned and act with disregard for his safety.

The isolation, paired with the trauma of being forgotten, erased, and replaced, likely resulted in Color being emotionally fragile, mentally fractured, and physically deteriorating.

It’s also worth taking into account if Color remembers everything about Gaster again or not, considering that Gaster fell into the Core (was implied to have jumped) and shattered, being forgotten (but not replaced like Color was) by everyone, meaning Sans may not have known completely who Gaster was when he first fell in.

This could result in intense identity confusion and disorientation, because Color holds two dual memories; one where Gaster was present, and one where he wasn’t and didn’t exist.

This could even lead to moments of intense confusion, anger, and fear when one moment he’s talking to Gaster but the next day he’s being comforted and hel by a complete stranger he can’t remember the name of.

His identity felt like something slipping away, with his desperate need for connection turning into a hollow, burning desire. These long years shape him into someone who is deeply mistrustful of others, fearful of being abandoned again, and increasingly haunted by his past mistakes when he finally leaves the Void and perhaps his own timeline.

Prolonged isolation can lead to auditory/visual hallucinations, particularly if Color’s mind tries to fill the void of human interaction. He might perceive the voices of the six souls or even imagine people from his past trying to reach out to him.

The blurred line between reality and memory could lead to moments of psychosis, where Color struggles to trust his own perceptions.

Given that in the caring short, color was all too willing to accept the possibility that he might’ve been seeing and hearing things and gaster is concerned that color was “talking to someone”—makes me think it’s really not a stretch to think that Color likely experienced periods of psychosis in the Void. Seeing and hearing things that aren’t there, feeling things.

I’m thinking the Human, the six human souls, probably Papyrus. If he is aware of what’s going on outside the Void, he possibly hallucinates Ivory/Undyne. he maybe hallucinates stuff about Gaster too, saying and doing things Gaster didn’t actually do.

he could also hallucinate that he’s dusting, cracking and dying, since it appears he probably would’ve died if the souls hadn’t kept him alive (and then later Gaster.)

Would also make sense if he’s hallucinated things like Undyne deliberately and knowingly replacing him, resulting in emotional anger, betrayal, hurt, jealousy—even if he logically knows the things he saw and heard weren’t real, and that Undyne doesn’t even know who he is anymore, he struggles to accept and realize it emotionally.

Without consistent access to nourishment (magical or otherwise), Color’s body might develop long-term issues like fatigue, atrophy, or brittle bones, especially if his skeletal structure is already prone to fragility.

Since Color has only one functioning eye, the prolonged isolation and lack of resources would worsen issues like eye strain or headaches, especially if he spent significant time in the dark or staring at the infinite void.

Lack of movement and injuries from past experiences (like scars from battles or trauma) could lead to persistent joint or nerve pain. The stress of isolation might also amplify his perception of physical pain.

The Void’s timeless nature likely eliminates a natural day-night cycle, leading to chronic insomnia or fragmented sleep. This, combined with emotional stress, could result in long-term physical exhaustion and cognitive impairment.

Being erased from existence and forgotten by everyone he cared about would challenge Color’s sense of self, potentially leading to derealization (“Is this real?”) and depersonalization (“Am I real?”).

His fragmented sense of identity, already influenced by the six souls, would likely worsen as he struggles to distinguish himself from the traits and voices of the absorbed souls, if he can hear them.

The lack of stimulation in the Void might cause memory issues, difficulty concentrating, and slowed processing speeds. He could struggle to focus or retain new information, especially after being released.

Being forgotten by everyone would reinforce a sense of worthlessness, as if his existence didn’t matter. At his worst and lowest moments, this could lead to chronic self-doubt, difficulty asserting himself, and a tendency to self-sabotage, believing he doesn’t deserve to be remembered or loved.

Being trapped in the Void with Gaster might lead Color to view existence as fragile and easily erased. He could develop an obsession with permanence, fearing that any connection or achievement could be erased just as easily as his past.

The loss of his family, friends, and timeline created a devastating sense of isolation, leaving Color craving connection while also fearing abandonment.

This might result in a desperate need to form bonds once freed, even if those bonds are unhealthy. Difficulty trusting others, as he fears they might leave or forget him again.

Knowing someone else, Undyne, took his place in his family create deep insecurities. He fears that even if he reconnects with Papyus, he won’t need or want him back. This could manifest as a reluctance to reach out to people he once cared about.

Clinging to anyone who shows him kindness, even at the expense of his own well-being. Overcompensating to prove his worth, becoming overly self-sacrificial in relationships.

While Color may not initially recognize it, he could harbor deep resentment toward his family for forgetting him, even though it wasn’t their fault. Toward the universe or fate for placing him in the Void and taking away his life. Toward Gaster for being his only companion but unable to provide meaningful connection.

Color would likely cling to memories of his timeline, romanticizing his past relationships and home. However, these memories might also bring deep pain, as they highlight everything he’s lost.

With Gaster his only companion, Color likely formed a complex bond with him, oscillating between gratitude for his presence and anger at being trapped with him.

Gaster’s cryptic nature frustrates Color, making him feel even more isolated, as Gaster does not fully understand or validate his emotions.

If Gaster provided guidance, Color might cling to him as a surrogate figure of authority, even if the relationship was unequal or strained.

Alternatively, Gaster’s enigmatic personality could exacerbate Color’s paranoia, making him question Gaster’s intentions or reliability.

After escaping, Color might constantly watch for signs that people are about to abandon or forget him again, leading to heightened anxiety and paranoia. He might try to make himself indispensable to others, fearing that if he isn’t needed, he’ll be forgotten.

While Color craves connection, he might avoid deep relationships at first, believing they’ll only end in rejection or loss. Guilt and feelings of unworthiness might lead him to push people away or avoid opportunities that could bring him happiness in the beginning.

Eventually he may surrounding himself with lots a connections and community, caring for each one and desperately not wanting to be alone again—finding the pain of being alone outweighs the potential pain of rejection and loss.

He knows many people but he often avoids talking about himself too much—possibly feeling that it’s pointless to try and explain, or more likely, not having the words to explain. Not knowing how to word it, how to explain in a way others could understand or relate to.

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