AN: Hmmm....Why did I choose Scott? Because he's nice and easy to do. I
wanted to do Kurt, but I haven't come up with a suitable plotline, and I
want his to be really good.
Shades of Red
Everything was tinted red.
It was annoying.
It was like being blind. It had been years since he had seen any other colors besides red, black, and the occasional shades of orange and purple.
He was beginning to forget what blue looked like.
Kurt looked like a large mass of purple; his blue coloring blending with the red haze. Kitty had red hair and violet eyes. Evan looked like a mass of red. Rogue had red stripes instead of white. And every time he looked at Jean, he had to remind himself that her eyes were green and not the brown they appeared.
At least he never forgot her hair color. He hated her hair.
When the only color one sees is red, it was pretty easy to develop a hatred of it. He hated red. He longed for any other color besides red. But he was surrounded by it. He surrounded himself in it, because at least he knew it was red. No guesses on color. It was all the same.
His sight. His beams. His shades. His car. Her hair.
Everything was red, and he hated it.
He often wondered if Kurt hated the color blue.
He stared down at his uniform, pondering the reason he had come here. Frustration, of course. He hated red, so much that he often came to the Danger Room to work off his deep-seated anger. To tire himself out so that he didn't think about it anymore. Tire himself out so much that maybe, just maybe, he'd lose the energy to power his beams. That they'd stop blasting long enough for him to see in different colors.
The metallic grey of the walls. The yellow of his uniform. The green of her eyes.
His uniform didn't have any red, aside from the requisite ruby quartz in his visor. He had asked for no red.
The Professor understood. He always did.
He knew he'd never "tire himself out" enough for the beams to stop. He was constantly absorbing energy from his surroundings, from the sun or atmosphere, he couldn't remember. He hadn't been listening to the Professor that time. He didn't care how his beams worked. He only wanted to know how to stop them.
But that was impossible. A curse of fate had taken that ability away from him forever.
He was doomed to red.
He hated it and loved it. It was all he had, but he wanted it taken away. He was a superhero, at the cost of colors. At the cost of being normal. At the cost of gazing romantically into someone's eyes.
The eyes were supposed to be green.
He wished she would dye her hair.
~End of Shades of Red~
AN: Short, but I wanted it that way. I tried to think of another reason Scott would hate his power, and how despite the fact all he sees is red, he seems to surround himself in it. I wondered why, and how it would affect his life, and his relationship with jean.
Shades of Red
Everything was tinted red.
It was annoying.
It was like being blind. It had been years since he had seen any other colors besides red, black, and the occasional shades of orange and purple.
He was beginning to forget what blue looked like.
Kurt looked like a large mass of purple; his blue coloring blending with the red haze. Kitty had red hair and violet eyes. Evan looked like a mass of red. Rogue had red stripes instead of white. And every time he looked at Jean, he had to remind himself that her eyes were green and not the brown they appeared.
At least he never forgot her hair color. He hated her hair.
When the only color one sees is red, it was pretty easy to develop a hatred of it. He hated red. He longed for any other color besides red. But he was surrounded by it. He surrounded himself in it, because at least he knew it was red. No guesses on color. It was all the same.
His sight. His beams. His shades. His car. Her hair.
Everything was red, and he hated it.
He often wondered if Kurt hated the color blue.
He stared down at his uniform, pondering the reason he had come here. Frustration, of course. He hated red, so much that he often came to the Danger Room to work off his deep-seated anger. To tire himself out so that he didn't think about it anymore. Tire himself out so much that maybe, just maybe, he'd lose the energy to power his beams. That they'd stop blasting long enough for him to see in different colors.
The metallic grey of the walls. The yellow of his uniform. The green of her eyes.
His uniform didn't have any red, aside from the requisite ruby quartz in his visor. He had asked for no red.
The Professor understood. He always did.
He knew he'd never "tire himself out" enough for the beams to stop. He was constantly absorbing energy from his surroundings, from the sun or atmosphere, he couldn't remember. He hadn't been listening to the Professor that time. He didn't care how his beams worked. He only wanted to know how to stop them.
But that was impossible. A curse of fate had taken that ability away from him forever.
He was doomed to red.
He hated it and loved it. It was all he had, but he wanted it taken away. He was a superhero, at the cost of colors. At the cost of being normal. At the cost of gazing romantically into someone's eyes.
The eyes were supposed to be green.
He wished she would dye her hair.
~End of Shades of Red~
AN: Short, but I wanted it that way. I tried to think of another reason Scott would hate his power, and how despite the fact all he sees is red, he seems to surround himself in it. I wondered why, and how it would affect his life, and his relationship with jean.