Moral Daisy/Patton: Cisgirl, she/her, her name is Paige, not Patton.
SuperLogic/Logan: Cisman, he/him.
Misery Vails/Virgil: Transman, he/him.
Virgil’s POV
Summary: Princey and Moral Daisy are called to help with a robbery, and they’re face to face with the two most powerful superheroes.
Pairing: LAMP
Content warnings will spoil this series. If you need content warnings, then don’t read this.
Next.
❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤
Logan bursts the front doors down. We both lift our guns up as Logan screams at the banker. People are running away, but that doesn’t matter. We’re here to take money, not lives.
We get a bag full of money as I feel a sharp pain in my back, and I fall onto the ground. I try to get up, but I can’t. While I drift in and out of consciousness I hear some familiar voices. Princey and Moral Daisy, crap.
My breath staggers as everything starts to feel wetter. I slowly open my eyes expecting the worst, and the worst is what I got. I’m laying in a pool of my own blood.
I involuntarily close my eyes, then open them.
The lights are far too bright for my eyes to stay open for more than three seconds.
“Are you okay?” A sweet high-pitched voice asks.
My vision focus on a pink mask.
“Moral Daisy?” I ask as I try to keep my face calm.
“It’s okay Sweetie, I’m not going to arrest you. I just want you to be safe and healthy. How do you feel?” She asks as she lays a gentle hand onto mine.
“I’m not in pain,” I admit.
“Good, good. SuperLogic ran away, so we have nowhere to put you once you’re recovered.”
“I’ll find my way. Where’s your friend?”
“Oh, he doesn’t know you’re here. He would arrest you on the spot, or even kill you.” Moral Daisy takes her hand off of mine.
“Why aren’t you?”
Moral Daisy sighs.
“No one is born a villain, something happens that causes them to become a villain. You’re not evil Misery Vails, you’re human.”
“I had my medical team to surgery on you. I told them you’re a family friend, so they won’t tell anyone.”
“You have a personal medical team?”
“The perks of being a superhero.”
A superhero. I’m having light-hearted banter with the enemy.
“You’re really nice for a villain.”
Clearly, she’s thinking the same thing.
“You’re really nice for a hero.”
“Of course heroes are nice, we’re heroes.”
“If I believed that I wouldn’t be a villain.”
“Good point.”
I yawn.
“I’m going to let you go back to sleep. Good night, Sweetie.”
I close my eyes as Moral Daisy gets up from next to the bed.
Clink.
My eyes pop open. The room is pitch black.
Clank.
My breathing starts to get faster than I can control.
A flashlight is being whipped around the room until it stops on my face.
“Misery Vails?” A deep voice asks. Logan.
“Wha-”
“There are probably microphones in this room so I can’t say you’re real name,” he explains.
“No, what are you doing here?”
“What do you mean, obviously I’m here to save you.”
“Save me? My hero,” I tease.
“Oh quiet.”
“I meant how did you know where I am?”
“Your chip.”
“You can access that?” I ask.
“No, but Deceit can.”
“You got Deceit to look at my chip?” I yell.
Logan shushes me.
“Quiet. I didn’t get him to do anything when I told him that Moral Daisy shot and snatched you he immediately went to the chip.
“Wait, Daisy shot me?”
“Someone did, it might have been Princey.”
Logan says as he put the flashlight away and picks me up. Pain shoots through my entire body. I clasp a hand over my mouth and try not to scream.
“Sorry, I'm not trying to hurt you,” Logan says as he jumps out of the window. We fly over Orlando. Logan opens the window to our apartment and he walks into my bedroom. He gently puts me down onto my bed.
Logan gets up to leave when there’s a loud crash from a distance.
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Summary: Logan hears a strange noise and investigates it.
Pairing: LAMP
Content warnings will spoil this series. If you need content warnings, then don’t read this.
Previous, Next.
❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤
I start to get up to leave when there’s a loud crash from a distance.
“Logan,” Virgil whispers with desperation.
“I’ll check it out,” I reassure him as I grab the metal bat next to Virgil’s bed. I’ve always told him that the bat was excessive and that we’ll never need it, but it turns out I was wrong.
“Please be careful,” Virgil whispers. His eyes widen, lips pouting.
“I will. Don’t worry.”
I tiptoe over to the hallway. I peek into the living room.
“The Duke? What are you doing in my house?” I ask as I drop the bat.
“I’m not here for you, I’m here for Virgil. Deceit saw on Virgil’s chip that he’s here so he told me to check up on him,” he explains.
“Oh really?”
As Deceit’s right-hand man there’s no way he doesn’t know Deceit’s blind, but does he really think I wasn’t told? Of course, we’re not allowed to talk about it, but Virgil and I are the biggest public villains in the world. Obviously, he would have told me.
“Yes,” he says as he closes the window, “you really should close your windows.”
“I wanted to get Virgil to his bed as soon as possible.”
“Can you show me where he is?”
I nod before showing him Virgil’s room. I walk in with him.
“Can I talk to him alone?” The Duke asks me.
“No,” Virgil says.
Virgil’s never been to nice to The Duke or Deceit, if he wasn’t so powerful he would have been severely punished by now.
The Duke’s left eye twitches as he pulls a forced annoyed smile.
“Alright,” The Duke says, frustration leaking through his voice. He takes a couple of steps forward. “How are you feeling?” His voice is a lot calmer than it just was.
“I’m fine. I might have to take a bit of a break,” Virgil explains.
“A bit? He was shot, he needs a long break,” I say as I sit down onto the bed next to Virgil’s feet.
“Okay, I’ll make sure Deceit knows.” The Duke starts to leave the room.
“Wait,” Virgil says, causing The Duke to stop in his tracks.
“Yes?”
“Can you give Deceit the letter that’s on my dresser?”
“Letter?” I ask, surprised.
“Of course.” The Duke grabs the letter before leaving.
“He’s a mess.” Virgil gives me a playful smile.
“Every villain is a mess, especially the ones with emo nicknames,” I tease.
“Dude, I was fourteen when I became a villain. Also, what kind of name is SuperLogic?”
“Woah, woah, woah, my name is special to me.”
Virgil chuckles.
We exchange our goodbyes before I go to my bedroom.
I smile at the only thing on my white walls, a framed picture of Virgil and me when he was fourteen and I was sixteen. His emo bangs covered one of his eyes, while my hair was dyed blue. It’s so weird to think that for years I was the one with colored hair and Virgil had natural hair. Of course, his hair is brown now, but that probably won’t last long. He is constantly saying he’s never going to dye his hair again, however, every few months his hair is magically purple.
I put on pajamas, then crawl into bed.
Tomorrow is going to be interesting, Virgil never takes breaks unless I’m also taking a break, so It’ll be the first time in five years that I’ve worked without him.
Summary: Logan and Virgil stay in the villain dorms.
Pairing: LAMP
Content warnings will spoil this series. If you need content warnings, then don’t read this.
Previous, Next.
❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤
“What the actual fuck,” I yell as soon as Logan closes the door to our dorm.
Logan sighs.
“I’m sorry.”
“I can’t believe-” I stop myself from yelling anymore. Logan's just trying his best, and I’m being an asshole.
“Again, I’m really sorry.”
Logan opens the closet. Most of the clothes are slightly too big and old, especially since we haven’t been in this dorm for months.
He grabs a shirt and a pair of sweatpants before going into the bathroom.
I scroll through Tumblr as I sit on the floor and lean against the bunk bed.
Logan leaves the bathroom with a face mask on. He puts his glasses on the end table.
“Nice face mask.”
“It’s important to keep your skin healthy and clean.”
He sits down next to me.
“Listen, I know you don’t want to be here, but thank you for putting up with all of this,” Logan says as he puts a hand on my knee.
“I’ve been acting like a real drama queen.”
Logan lays his head on top of mine.
“No, you’re just upset, which is understandable.”
Are Logan and I a bit too close?
The smell of his shampoo and the feeling of his head on top of mine makes me decide that we’re not close enough.
“I’m sorry that I always throw tantrums, I don’t know why I do that.”
“Virgil, it’s okay to have emotions-”
“But you don’t act that way,” I interrupt him.
“We interpret emotions differently, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
I sigh and close my eyes.
“I’m tired,” I mumble.
“Let’s go to bed.”
He stands up and goes back to the bathroom.
I go to the closet and pick out a pair of black sweatpants and a super baggy "Save the Bees” shirt.
I quickly change before Logan is done scrubbing his face mask off. As he leaves the bathroom I enter and take out my cleanser, exfoliator, and moisturizer. I’m still traumatized from seventh grade from when my face was super oily and acne-prone. I wash my face before brushing my teeth.
After my riveting skincare routine, I leave the bathroom.
The lights are off except for the light coming from Logan’s battery-powered light-up bookmark. When he bought that thing he was so excited. I refrained from mentioning how it’s bulky and over-priced because his rare huge smile was too cute to handle. The way his eyes sparkle and crinkled was captivating.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“Sorry,” I look away from Logan as he continues to read.
I crawl into my bed before pulling my blanket up over my head. I plug my headphones in and blast some Sleeping With Sirens. I scroll through Tumblr, occasionally answering anons. My fashion blog is a bigger hit than I anticipated when I first made it. I have a couple of other blogs, but none of them are nearly as popular as my fashion blog.
A pillow hits my face.
I take my headphones off and ask, “Dude, what?”
“Sorry, but you weren’t listening to me.”
“What were you saying?”
“I think Paige is trustworthy, and an absolute idiot. Roman, on the other hand, cannot be trusted.”
“Yeah.” After a couple of seconds, I say, “Paige isn’t an idiot, she’s just really friendly.”
“Being really friendly is being an idiot.”
“You don’t believe that.”
There’s a silence between us.
“Logan.”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me that you don’t believe that.”
He sighs before climbing down the bunk bed. He sits down next to my chest.
“I don’t actually believe that I’m just confused as to how she can trust us so much,” Logan says as he gently pushes my hair out of my face.
“Isn’t this fun, Virgil?” Patton asks as he sits down onto the black and purple plaid blanket next to me.
“Yeah,” I admit.
“You just gotta give these things a chance. I know new things are scary, and I’m very proud that you gave this a chance. We’re very proud of you,” Patton says.
“Oh gosh, don’t get all mushy on me,” I say as my face heats up.
“Hey guys, I found a goose!” Roman yells as he chases a goose around.
“Roman,” Logan huffs, “leave the poor goose alone.”
“You’re not my dad!” He objects.
“Roman, how would you feel if a giant chased you around?” Patton asks.
Roman huffs before walking back to his chair by the fire.
“Isn’t the sky pretty?” Patton says as he lays down.
“Yeah.”
“Patton, do you want to play tag?” Roman asks.
Patton shoots up and excitedly yells, “you bet your bottom!”
The two run of further into the woods.
“Careful!” I yell.
A moment of awkward silence lays between us.
“How are you feeling? I know you don’t really like these social engagements,” Logan asks as he crosses his legs.
“I’m feeling fine. I’m not sure why I was so anxious, to be honest.”
“Feelings are illogical.”
“I know, I know.” I really am not in the mood to be lectured.
“You didn’t let me finished. Feelings are illogical, but that doesn’t mean that you’re illogical for feeling them.”
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I drive to the backside of the building. I’ve only been to the front and side, never the back. On the building are big bold white letters that read FLORIDA CHILDREN'S PSYCHIATRIC CENTER. I park in the employee parking before grabbing my messenger bag.
I walk into the building and am immediately met with bright colors. The waiting room walls are white with cartoon trees painted onto them. The sofas are orange, blue, and some grey. There’s a play center with about five toys and three picture books.
Something tells me that Virgil’s a little too old to appreciate the waiting room, and possibly the rest of the outpatient center.
I walk past a mom with her young screaming child. The child looks like she’s about five years old, and yet she has a scream louder than anything I’ve ever heard before. I walk up to the desk where an older lady is typing away at her computer.
“Hello, are you here to admit a,” her eyes glance down to my lanyard that has an employee pass on it, “you must be Dr. Robinson, one second.”
She presses a button and shortly after a young man appears.
“Follow me,” he says, so I do as I’m told. We walk down a long hallway, though big bulky locked doors, until eventually we end up in a small office.
“I will go get Virgil,” the man says before leaving the office.
The walls of the office are wood, and everything’s pretty plain with the exception of an orange bookcase. I sit down at the desk. I’m not the biggest fan of the fact that there are no sofas or anything, and that Virgil will have to sit in a chair across from me with a desk in between us, but I can’t really complain. It isn’t my office, after all.
The young man enters the room with a young teen. His hair is jet black and covers one of his eyes. He’s wearing a plain white shirt, a black and red flannel, and red skinny jeans with rips at the knees.
He seems to have a sense of self, from what I can observe from at least.
“Virgil, this is Dr. Robinson,” the man says before leaving the room.
“Hello Virgil, you can call me Logan. Have a seat,” I gesture to the chair in front of me.
He plops down into the chair. His back is unnaturally straight. His eyes are drilling into the desk, making sure not to make eye contact with me. From what I can see his eyes are tight and worried.
I take my laptop out and open it up to a document that only has Virgil's basic information.
“So, why are you here today?” I ask him.
“I’m being forced,” he grumbles.
“Oh?” I write that down into a new document, “why are you being forced?”
“Because my mom’s paranoid.”
“So, Virgil, tell me about your day,” I say.
“Um,” he gestures around the room, “it’s not great.”
“What have you done here so far?”
“I did some crafts with a group of kids. It was pretty lame. I’ve also had to talk to quite of people, kinda like this,” he explains.
He’s quite talkative, which is good.
“Are the staff treating you alright?” I ask.
“Yeah, they’re fun. Some of them are annoying though. Wait, is that okay for me to say?”
I chuckle.
“Of course, Virgil. I’m not going to tattle.”
I skim through some of the information on his form.
“Your mom seems concerned that you are extremely anxious, would you agree?”
“Do I agree that my mom is concerned?” he raises his eyebrows at me.
“Are you extremely anxious?” I ask.
“I mean, yeah.”
I write that down.
“What are you writing?” he asks.
“Basic stuff.”
“Vague.”
“That’s interesting,” I mumble as I read part of his form.
“What is?”
“It says here that you have habits that you feel you need to complete even if you know it doesn’t make sense. Is that correct?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Do you have any examples?”
“I have to tap my left middle finger against my shoulder five times.”
“Why?”
“So that I feel better.”
“Feel better?”
“Yeah,” he responds, “when things get too much.”
“What overwhelms you?”
“Everything.”
I pause for him to continue, but he never does.
“Have you ever been diagnosed with anything?” I ask as I write down everything he’s said.
“Uhh, asthma.”
“So, how do you get along with your sibling?”
“We used to be best friends, but we don’t really talk anymore,” he admits.
“Why don’t you talk anymore?”
“They have friends and a job.”
“Do you have any friends at school?” I ask.
“Yeah, two. Talyn and Camden. They’re siblings though, so they don’t always get along.”
“How old are they?”
“Talyn’s fourteen, and Camden’s eleven.”
A fifteen-year-old hanging out with an eleven-year-old, huh.
“How’s school?” I ask.
“It’s not my favorite thing in the world,” he admits as he shifts in his seat.
I write that down before asking, “why’s that?”
“Talyn and Camden are in middle school so I never get to see them except for during lunch, but lately I have to spend lunch in Mr. Sanders. I don’t have any friends, and most of my classes are so boring.”
“Tell me about Mr. Sanders.”
“Alright,” he sits back into his chair, “he’s really nice. I can tell he cares, but he’s just… he doesn’t get it. I wish I could tell him that the reason I don’t do my work is that I’m too scared to, but I can’t tell him that.”
“Why are you too scared to do your work?” I ask.
“Because I can’t handle getting something wrong,” he looks down at the floor as he says this.
I’m definitely going to write that down.
“Why not?”
“Because I… I don’t know, because I can’t.”
“Why’s that?”
“You don’t quit do you?” He pauses for me to change the subject, but I don’t. “It’s too overwhelming.”
“Why is it overwhelming?” I adjust my glasses.
“Because I... I can’t be dumb.”
“Why not?”
“Does getting a few problems wrong make you dumb?”
“Well no, but getting a lot of problems wrong does.”
“Do you usually get problems wrong?” I ask as I cross my legs.
“Depends on the subject.”
“What subject does Mr. Sanders teach?”
“Astronomy,” he says.
“Do you struggle with Astronomy?”
“Yeah. There’s a lot of constellations and stuff to memorize, and I just can’t memorize them.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your grade in Astronomy?”
“I’m failing.”
“Alright,” I write that down, “what has Mr. Sanders said about that?”
“We eat lunch together in his room and he helps me finish homework. He’s really helpful, but it’s still really stressful. He’s seen me cry so many times.
“What does he do when you cry?”
“He usually tells me that it’s okay if I get a problem wrong.”
“Interesting.”
I write that down.
I look over at the clock, I have about five minutes left with him.
“Before you said that you can’t tell Mr. Sanders that you’re too scared to do your work. Why can’t you tell him?”
“Because it sounds like a pathetic excuse, and he deserves more than some stupid excuse.”
I write that down.
“Is there a possibility that he’d be understanding?” I ask.
“I mean, maybe, should I tell him?”
“That’s up to you, you’re the expert when it comes to yourself and what you should do.”
“Wait, then why am I talking to you,” his eyes widen, “not that I was trying to be like rude or anything.”
I chuckle.
“It’s fine Virgil, don’t worry. I’m here to help you figure yourself out, and to help you overcome your struggles.”
“I see,” he says before a young man opens the door.
“I’m sorry to disrupt you two, but it’s time for Virgil to eat lunch.
“Alright, have a nice lunch,” I say as Virgil and I both stand up.
Description: Logan is blind but he doesn’t want the others to know.
Pairings: None
CW: None that I can think of.
Logan’s eyesight has been getting worse and worse for as long as he could remember. However, now he has almost no eyesight. He can see shadows, but that’s it. The logical thing to do would be to tell the others, he knows that but he decides against it. He doesn’t want to be seen as a burden.
He walked into the kitchen and turned the light switch on even though he doesn’t need it. Then he opened the cupboard and felt around for a mug. He poured coffee into the mug then sat down. Loud footsteps echoed the room and Logan recognized them as Roman’s.
“Ay, specs, why are you using my mug?” Roman asked. Logan’s face felt hot and he hoped that Roman couldn’t see a blush on his face.
“Because it was there,” Logan responded. Roman groaned before walking to the other side of the kitchen.
Then there were more footsteps, but these were lighter. Logan instantly recognized them as Patton’s.
“Hey Patton,” Logan said as he took out a book. He knew that Patton was in the kitchen, but he didn’t exactly know where his face was. So instead of guessing he decided to look down at the book in his hands instead. He felt the paperclip that he put in there on the bottom of the book, which meant that he was holding it upside down. He quickly turned it so that it was correct.
“Hiya Kiddo! How are you holding up this morning?” They continued to make small talk until someone dragged their feet into the room.
“Greetings Virgil,” Logan said while still looking at Patton.
“Um, hi.” Virgil thought it was weird that he was looking at Patton and not him, but he let it slide.
Logan and Patton continued to make small talk until everyone sat down to eat breakfast. Thankfully everyone sat in the same spot everyday so Logan knew exactly where to look when people talked. Logan put his hand on the table and slid it to the fork and his plate. He struggled a little, but he was able to successfully eat the scrambled eggs.
“Why aren’t you touching your bacon?” Roman asked, and Logan shrugged.
“Saving them,” He answered.
Virgil watched intently as Logan awkwardly ate his food. Logan looked up at Virgil, but when Virgil raised his eyebrows at him he looked back down. Weird, usually he raises his eyebrows back.
“Logan, can you put your book somewhere else so that nobody gets food on it?” Patton asked.
“Of course,” Logan said as he grabbed his book. He stood up from his chair and put it on top of the bookshelf. The four continued to make small talk as Logan sat back down.
Roman watched as Logan fumbled with his fork and he got an idea.
“Logan, why aren’t you touching the pancakes?” Roman asked. There were no pancakes. Patton and Virgil shot Roman weird looks.
“Saving those too,” Logan said with no hesitation.
“Logan there are no pancakes,” Virgil said.
Logan’s face dropped.
“W-what? Uhm... I can explain.”
“Why didn’t you just tell us that you’re blind?” Roman asked.
“Because I was… scared,” Logan admitted.
“Scared of what?” Virgil asked.
“I... I don’t know,” Logan admitted.
“Logan,” there was a gentle hand on Logan’s hand now; “we’ll love you no matter what kiddo. Promise.”
Tears started to fall down Logan’s face as he smiled.
