#but also nooooo my image stability

[halomancer]

Macro test ft. Arcyria

[kat-thepoet]

Veins of Violet

Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Part 10: Hide snd seek

A/N: Hi 🤭

Previous Chapters ☞ HERE ☜

3.7k words

"Please don't. I'll promise not to do any business anymore. Just spare my life," he begged, his voice trembling with fear. I looked at him, my eyes devoid of emotion. His words felt empty, and the thought of killing him stirred nothing within me. I raised my gun, placing the barrel between his eyes, and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed in the room as he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. His eyes remained open, staring through me, as blood slowly trickled from his forehead, pooling into his eyes as if he were crying blood.

I woke up screaming, "Nooooo!" My heart pounded in my chest, the terror of the dream still gripping me. Logan immediately woke up, his arms wrapping around me as he pulled me close, comforting me. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice soothing. "It was just a nightmare."

I clung to Logan, my body trembling as I tried to shake off the nightmare. His warmth surrounded me, grounding me in the present. His hand gently stroked my hair, and I could feel his heart beating steadily against my back. "You're safe," he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I'm right here."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The vivid images from the dream still lingered, the feeling of cold detachment as I pulled the trigger, the lifeless eyes staring back at me. "It felt so real," I whispered, my voice shaky. "I... I killed him without even blinking, without feeling anything. It was like... like I was a monster."

Logan held me tighter, his voice firm but gentle. "You're not a monster, Violet. You're not alone in this, and you're not defined by your nightmares. We all have our demons, but they don't control who we are."

I nodded, feeling the tension slowly begin to ease from my body. His presence was calming, a stark contrast to the horror I had just experienced. "I just... I don't want to lose myself," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You won't," Logan said, his voice filled with conviction. "I won't let you. We'll get through this together." He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with concern, but also with a strength that gave me hope. "You're stronger than you think, Violet. And you've got me. I'm not going anywhere."

I leaned into him, letting his words and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothe me. "Thank you," I whispered, feeling a tear slip down my cheek. "For always being here."

Logan wiped the tear away with his thumb, his touch tender. "Always," he promised, holding me close as the remnants of the nightmare began to fade, replaced by the comfort of his embrace.

- 

A week has passed, and things have been really good between Logan and me. We've kept our routine natural and pure, enjoying each other's company without any pressure. Logan opened up to me about his past, telling me about his time with the X-Men and the things he's been through. It was a side of him I hadn't seen before, and it made me appreciate him even more.

We also talked about Laura and how she made him feel. It was clear that she means a lot to him, but she's been MIA this entire week. I've been covering her shifts, trying to help out where I can, but it's been a little worrying not knowing where she is. Despite that, Logan and I have been focused on each other, finding comfort in the stability we've built together. I confessed that I have been helping him sleep these past weeks. He thanked me by taking me to dinner and he asked me to be his girlfriend and I obviously said yes.

It's Sunday today so means day off. Vanessa texted me earlier to come by to her apartment so they can ask us something since today is the day they leave to Seattle. 

As Wade zipped up his backpack, he turned to us with a sheepish grin. "Hey, before we go, I need to ask you guys for a favor. Vanessa's mom is, like, super allergic to dogs, so could you take care of our furry little troublemaker until we get back?"

Logan immediately rolled his eyes, clearly less than thrilled with the idea. But before he could say anything, I nodded with a smile. "Of course, we can handle it. No problem."

Wade's grin widened. "Thanks, you two. I owe you one."

Vanessa chimed in, giving us a knowing look. "Just don't leave your shoes lying around, and you'll be fine. Trust me on that one."

Logan sighed but finally gave a reluctant nod. "Alright, we'll take care of her. But if she destroys anything, that's on you, Wade."

Wade laughed, giving Logan a playful punch on the arm. "Deal. You guys are the best."

With that, they finished up and headed out the door with their suitcases. 

"This should be fun," I said with a grin, looking down at Ms. Pool, who wagged her tail enthusiastically. I handed the leash over to Logan, who took it with a resigned sigh, clearly not as excited as I was.

While Logan held onto the dog, I quickly gathered the essentials—her food, water bowl, toys, and anything else I thought she might need. "I'll bring these over to my apartment, and if she needs anything else, I can always come back later since I have Vanessa's spare key."

Logan nodded, holding onto Ms. Pool as she sniffed around curiously. "Let's just hope she doesn't cause too much trouble," he muttered, though I could see a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I laughed, giving him a playful nudge. "Come on, Logan, it won't be that bad." 

With everything in hand, we headed out, ready to welcome Ms. Pool into our home for the week.

As I set up a cozy corner of the living room with Ms. Pool's things—her bed, bowls, and a few toys—I couldn't shake the lingering worry about Laura. It had been MIA ever since her birthday, and I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy.

I pulled out my phone and decided to text her, hoping for a quick response that would put my mind at ease.

Violet: Hey Laura, just checking in. Haven't seen you in a bit. did I do something? Let me know if you need anything.

I hit send and stared at the screen for a moment, waiting for those familiar dots to appear, but nothing came through right away. Sighing, I put my phone down, trying to focus on making Ms. Pool comfortable. But the concern for Laura lingered in the back of my mind, a quiet reminder of the uncertainty surrounding her disappearance.

As I finished setting up Ms. Pool's corner, I turned to Logan, who was in the kitchen, slicing up some apples. "Do you think we should go to Laura's house and check on her?" I asked, the concern in my voice evident.

Logan paused, looking up from his task. "Do you know where she lives?"

I shook my head. "No, but we can check her application at the shop. It should have her address."

Logan considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, that might be a good idea. If she's been off the grid for this long, it's worth making sure she's okay."

I felt a bit of relief at his agreement, glad that we were on the same page. "Let's head over there after we finish up here," I suggested, glancing back at Ms. Pool, who was already getting comfortable in her new spot. 

Logan gave a small smile. "Sounds like a plan."

- 

We stepped outside, and a cool breeze greeted us, ruffling the leaves that were just beginning to turn shades of gold and crimson. The day had that distinct early September feel—summer still lingering in the air, but with the crisp promise of fall just around the corner.

As we walked to the shop, the wind picked up slightly, tugging at my hair and reminding me that the season was about to change. The streets were quiet, with only a few people out and about, most of them bundled up a little more than usual, sensing the shift in the weather.

Logan walked beside me, his usual quiet strength comforting as we made our way to the shop. I couldn't help but glance around at the familiar sights—the leaves rustling in the trees, the hint of woodsmoke in the air from a nearby chimney. Everything felt serene, but I couldn't shake the worry I felt for Laura.

When we reached the shop, I fished out the keys from my pocket and unlocked the door. The place was quiet, the stillness almost eerie compared to the usual hustle and bustle. We headed straight to the back office, where I knew Laura's application would be filed. The anticipation of finding her address and checking on her added a layer of urgency to our movements.

"Where's the file cabinet?" Logan asked, glancing around the office.

"It's right there," I said, pointing to the row of files neatly organized in the corner.

Logan moved over, quickly rifling through the files. "Found it," he said, but when he looked up at me, his expression had changed, a frown creasing his forehead.

"There's nothing here."

"What?" I said, feeling a pang of confusion as I walked over to him. I grabbed the file from his hand and flipped through the pages. My heart sank as I realized he was right—there was no address, just her name and phone number. 

"She started working here as a minor," I said, my voice trailing off as I looked over the file again, trying to make sense of it. "And there isn't even a number for one of her parents."

Logan's brow furrowed deeper as he crossed his arms, clearly as concerned as I was. "That's not right. How could she work here without that information?"

I shook my head, frustration bubbling up inside me. "I don't know. I guess they never thought to look into it deeper because she's been reliable. But now..." I let out a sigh, my mind racing. "We've got nothing to go on. This was supposed to help us find her, but now we're even more in the dark."

Logan placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "We'll figure this out. There has to be something else we can do. Maybe start by trying to reach her again or ask around if anyone knows where she might live."

I nodded, feeling a little more grounded by his presence. "Yeah, you're right. We'll find her. We just have to dig a little deeper."

For an hour, we wandered through the city, stopping people along the way, showing them the picture of Laura on my phone. With each person we asked, hope slowly ebbed away. No one recognized her, no one had seen her, and each "no" felt like a weight pressing down on my chest, making my heart sink further.

As we walked, I could sense Logan's growing discomfort. His usual calm demeanor was strained, his jaw tight, and his eyes scanning every face in the crowd with a quiet desperation. It was clear that his eagerness to find Laura matched mine, maybe even more so.

I reached out, touching his arm lightly as we paused on a quiet street corner. "We'll find her," I said softly, trying to reassure both him and myself. But the uncertainty gnawed at me, making the words feel hollow.

Logan looked down at me, his eyes dark with worry. "We have to," he muttered, his voice low but filled with determination. "She's out there somewhere, and we're not stopping until we find her."

I nodded, drawing strength from his resolve. The city felt vast and indifferent around us, but we couldn't give up. We had to keep searching, no matter how long it took, no matter how many dead ends we hit. Laura was out there, and we wouldn't rest until we brought her back safely.

-

Two hours later,  we walked back home, the weight of our fruitless search hung heavy in the air. Logan and I were both quiet, each lost in our thoughts, the concern for Laura gnawing at us. The cool breeze that had felt refreshing earlier now seemed to carry a chill that matched the unease in my chest. When we finally reached my apartment building, I pulled out my keys, ready to head inside and figure out our next move. Just as I was about to open the door, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I quickly pulled it out, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the notification. It was from Laura.

Laura 🧚����‍♀️:"Are you home?"

I stared at the screen for a moment, relief and anxiety flooding me at the same time. I quickly typed back, my fingers trembling slightly.

Violet: Yes, I'm home. Where are you? Are you okay?

I hit send, my eyes locked on the phone, waiting for her reply. Logan noticed my sudden stillness and looked at me with concern. "What is it?" he asked, stepping closer.

"It's Laura," I said, my voice a mix of relief and urgency. "She just texted me."

Logan's eyes widened slightly, the tension in his posture easing just a bit. "What did she say?"

"She asked if I'm home," I replied, still watching the screen intently for her next message. "I told her I am. I'm just waiting for her to respond."

We both stood there, the anticipation thick in the air, hoping this would be the moment we finally got some answers.

Another text buzzed in, and I quickly glanced at my phone. My heart skipped a beat as I read Laura's message: Is Logan with you?

I looked up at Logan, who was watching me intently, waiting for an update. I hesitated for a split second, unsure of what to make of her question. 

"She wants to know if you're with me," I said, showing him the screen. His expression shifted slightly, a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Tell her I am," Logan said, his voice steady but laced with a hint of urgency. "Ask her where she is."

I nodded and quickly typed back:

Violet: Yes, Logan is with me. Where are you, Laura? Are you okay?

I hit send and glanced up at Logan, the tension between us palpable as we waited for her reply.

"I feel like something is wrong, Logan," I said, my voice trembling slightly as I looked up at him.

Logan's eyes narrowed, a protective edge in his gaze. He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but gentle. "We'll figure it out," he said, trying to steady me. "But whatever it is, we'll handle it together."

I nodded, trying to take comfort in his words, but the unease gnawing at me only grew stronger. Something about Laura's messages felt off, and the way she specifically asked if Logan was with me set off alarm bells in my mind. 

We stood there, waiting for her response, the silence stretching out as my anxiety built. Logan stayed close, his presence a comforting anchor, but the sense that something was very wrong wouldn't leave me. I just hoped we weren't too late.

- 

An hour had passed since Laura's last text, and Logan and I had settled on the couch, trying to distract ourselves while we waited. We were cuddled up together, the warmth of his body helping to calm my nerves, but the tension in the air was still thick.

Then, suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It was soft, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of anxiety through me. Logan and I exchanged a glance, and without a word, I started to get up to answer it. But before I could reach the door, Logan grabbed my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

I looked at him, confused, my heart racing. He didn't say anything at first, just put his pointer finger to his lips, signaling me to stay quiet. The seriousness in his eyes made my stomach drop.

Then, in a whisper, barely audible, he said, "That's not her."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. How could he know? But the certainty in his voice made me pause. I glanced back at the door, a sense of dread creeping over me.

Logan tightened his grip on my wrist, pulling me back slightly, his eyes never leaving the door. "Stay behind me," he whispered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I nodded silently, my pulse pounding in my ears as Logan moved towards the door, positioning himself between me and whoever was on the other side. The knock came again, a little louder this time, as if the person was growing impatient.

Logan gestured for me to stay put, and I did as he instructed, my heart in my throat as I watched him approach the door, every muscle in his body tensed, ready for anything.

Logan moved cautiously toward the door, his steps silent as he leaned in to look through the peephole. His expression shifted instantly, a mix of alarm and urgency flashing across his face. He turned around quickly, about to say something—

But before the words could leave his mouth, the door exploded.

The force of the blast threw us both backward. I felt a rush of heat and the deafening sound of the explosion filled my ears as I was flung across the room. The impact of hitting the floor knocked the wind out of me, and for a moment, everything was a blur of noise, dust, and pain. Logan's body instinctively shielded mine, taking the brunt of the blast. I could feel the weight of him on top of me, his protective instinct kicking in even in the chaos. 

The apartment was filled with smoke and debris, and my ears were ringing from the explosion. I struggled to focus, my vision hazy as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. Logan groaned as he pushed himself up, quickly scanning the room for threats.

"Violet!" he gasped, his voice urgent but strained. "Are you okay?"I nodded weakly, trying to sit up despite the disorientation. "I'm okay," I managed to say, though 

my voice was shaky. "Logan, what—?"

But before I could finish, we both heard footsteps—heavy, deliberate—coming toward the blown-open door. Logan's eyes hardened, and he quickly positioned himself between me and the incoming threat.

"Stay down," he ordered, his voice low and fierce. 

I nodded, fear gripping me as I watched Logan brace himself for whatever was coming through that door. The situation had gone from bad to worse in an instant, and now we were about to face whatever—or whoever—had just blown up our door.

Through the haze of smoke, a figure emerged, his presence as chilling as the memories he dragged with him. The familiar silhouette sent a shiver down my spine—the same face, the same coat that had haunted my nightmares for so long. God, I hated that coat. But it was nothing compared to the hatred I felt for the man wearing it.

The man who had made me suffer through unspeakable pain and torture. 

He stopped just inside the ruined doorway, his eyes locking onto mine. That smirk—a twisted, cruel reminder of everything he had put me through—spread across his face. His gaze flicked briefly to Logan, assessing him, before settling back on me with a sickening familiarity.

"Hello, Violet," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "Did you miss me?"

Every muscle in my body tensed as I glared at him, my hands curling into fists at my sides. I could feel the growl rising in my throat, the sheer fury boiling inside me. "Strucker," I hissed, the name tasting like venom on my tongue.

Logan's stance shifted subtly, ready to act at a moment's notice, but he didn't move, waiting for my lead. He knew this was personal—too personal.

Strucker's smirk only deepened, as if my anger amused him. "I've been looking forward to this reunion," he taunted, his eyes glinting with the same sadistic pleasure I remembered too well. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, to not let the terror of the past overwhelm me. But facing him again, after all these years, it was like every wound he ever inflicted had been ripped open anew. 

But I wasn't the same person I was back then. I wasn't helpless. And I wasn't alone. I glanced at Logan, drawing strength from his steady presence, then turned back to Strucker, my resolve hardening.

"You have no idea what you've walked into," I growled, the fear in my chest morphing into a cold, focused rage. 

Strucker's eyes narrowed slightly, but that smirk never wavered. "We'll see about that," he replied, his voice low and dangerous. The tension in the room was electric, the air thick with the promise of violence. This was far from over.

With a simple motion of his pointer and middle finger, Strucker signaled the men behind him to attack. They moved swiftly, and in an instant, Logan's claws were out, gleaming in the dim light, while my fists crackled with purple energy as I began to levitate. But something was off—these weren't ordinary soldiers. They were mutants, each armed with their own unique powers, and they wasted no time unleashing them on us.

There were about ten of them, and they coordinated their assault with a terrifying precision. Energy blasts, telekinetic waves, and other forms of attacks came at us from all directions. Logan slashed through the onslaught, his claws slicing through the air as he fought to protect us, but the sheer number of them was overwhelming.

In the chaos, one of them managed to get close, too close. Before I could react, I felt a sharp sting in my arm—a needle piercing through my skin. I barely had time to register what had happened before a wave of intense pain shot through me, making me wince and falter in mid-air. Logan's eyes widened in alarm as he saw me struggling. "Violet!" he shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. But before he could reach me, another mutant injected him with the same substance, forcing him to his knees.

The room began to spin, my vision blurring as whatever they had injected me with took hold. I tried to focus, tried to summon my magic, but the pain was overwhelming, clouding my mind. I could see Logan fighting to stay on his feet, his claws still extended as he tried to fend off the attackers, but he was slowing down, the effects of the injection clearly taking their toll.

My strength was draining fast. I could feel my powers slipping away, the purple glow around my fists dimming as I lost control. The last thing I saw before everything went dark was Logan's agonized expression as he struggled to reach me, and then I felt the cold, hard ground beneath me as I collapsed, the world fading into nothingness.

Part 11: Her true awakening

[epiphanyspeaks]

Oh the layers and #levels to it all!! This is last midnight's meditation in Photoshoplandia...

I knew I wanted to create something with this #nude I took of #myself but had no idea what is was going to turn out to be. I have my unique process for my #collage work {:and it's similar to my life right now:} where I have no prior notions or idea of what's going to #manifest in the #creation and I just go for it! It hasn't failed yet, to effortlessly create #beautiful works of #art and life! This piece reflects the controversial issue of the value of women. No name for it just yet...any ideas? ++++++++++Actually there's more to this story… For the passed years I find myself being quite challenged in the aspect of generating and attaining monetary stability... and now that I come to think of it; creative stability as well. So I look to what I’m naturally good at. I remembered I always loved inspiring the artisté thru lending my figure to the artistic creation, so I’ve been reaching out to the LA community to get back into live modeling and muse work. I remember more effortless efforts in manifesting collaborations with artist, photographers and makeup artists and for the last years it’s been unexpectedly challenging and stifling to my own creativity that more collaborative and monetary work has not manifested from all the alchemy and support I put out inquiring about it. I’ve had so much happen and so little happen in relation to my success as “artist.” People have offered me jobs and taken them away or just plain did not follow through with what seemed like genuinely engaged interest. …and these days everyone's a model hence making it overwhelmingly saturated for the limited supply of quality paid work. So it’s been a bummer! I am very surprised I’m not working more within this immensely expressive community of artist here in LA. I admit, I know I'm not the dominant look for today but seriously -in as much humility as I can possibly convey- people tell me how gorgeous I am all the time!! Soooooooo where’s the disconnect? Perhaps the universe wants me to get a NORMAL JOB!?! Nooooo, I have so many other creative skills too. …but back to musing…I keep putting myself out there because I am a wealth of inspiration, beauty and skill in this! Eventually, finally a few weeks ago I connected with an artist who is looking to acquire a steady muse to inspire his works for private collectors and high end galleries. I met this “artist” who actually turns out to be a semi celebrity, of course with my luck - go figure, at a swanky Hollywood hotel where he starts to share his aesthetic with me. I see this glorious mysterious art for the first time and BOOM, BAM, POW, it’s PORN!!! of course, LA {eyes roll} everyone’s an “artist.” *I’ll be implementing the quotation marks as these days these labels seem to be desired but may not always be acquired and so leaving it also up to the observer to provide definition.* Ok, so in my past I’ve contributed to the creation of what is considered porn {Perfect 10 Magazine, fetish, boudoir, exhibitionist shoots and so on.. I’m sure there are a few sex tapes with past lovers out there} and I can see the beauty in our extreme erotic nature as well. However lending my image and participating to this specific incantation of “musing” would quite literally be putting myself in very compromising and vulnerable positions! This person wanted to hire me as a “muse” to be photographed mid sex work, to then take the images captured, crop and color adjust to pass off as art to sell for thousands of dollars! I guess he passing hit off as art! As ass art! Dang! Anonymous cropped in shots of deep anal penetration and giz faced women with no eyes, merely color shifted into psychedelic hues. To me that’s not being a muse, that’s straight up being used and abused, and I’m open to there being another lighter side of the situation…but butt. So sacred. I only allow committed in loved ones to get in there . ;) Maybe there are women who find a situation like that to be a dream come true and are gracious for such a gift…? Who knows.. In any case, not what I was expecting and not what I’m interested in. This “artist” has discovered and created quite the racket. Exclusively chosen women, chosen solely to agree to completely compromise their mind~body~soul for a comparable pay grade. Is this really considered art? I feel only because I know the back story of what I define to be degradation and abuse of women, position, money and good ol’ white male privilege that I don’t define this to be art, but if I didn’t know that and just saw this “art” on a wall somewhere, would I consider it to be art? Well, unfortunately I suppose so, even if it’s not my interest it looks consensual to me, so life as art is art. I guess you could say art takes all kinds. Though with this backstory: what happened to dignity? and what happened to treasuring one another with genuine heart felt reverence? Seems like there are still people out there that just want to get off and fuck around. Either they have no idea about the depths and heights of infinite worth a soulful and spiritual sexual relationship can bring to all… or they are afraid of losing control in something so lovely. In any event the scenario with this “artist” was simply an unhealthy, mindless and unconscious sacral energy exchange, photographed and unfortunately accepted as art. The fact that people feel the need to participate in such extreme sexual acts to feel acknowledged and validated is beyond me. I am astounded at the spectrum of grandiose delusion within our humanity. The audacity of what people think they need to be satisfied, or what they actually need to be satisfied! I also think some do it to see what they can get a way with, that whole “YOLO”,  you know, way to be and seriously there are better ways to spend time on this planet. There are starving children and abused nails who need that money and awareness you waste on mindless sex. I wish situations like this weren’t true. I wish situation worse then this did not exist for me or you. I had half my mind to put this semi celeb out on front street to the public but I’m not interested in drama. Seriously. So don’t believe it if ya heard it. I’m very diplomatic spirit with a mulitview perspective. I mean I talk my truth when I’m stretched into compromising beyond all capacity of flexibility, and mind you I am hyper flexible! This has been essential tofor our ascension. I thank you for staying, for staying tuned in and tuning in again… p.s. not a perfect 10 writer #lifeisart #collageart #pieceofwork 🕊 🕊 🕊 #psychedelic #soul #artist #mystic #model #muse #enchantress #saturated #ecstasy #acid #goddess #poet #vision #spiritual #spirit #inspiration #warrior #queen #empress #magneticbrunette #womansworth (at City Of Angels)