FOR THE FANFIC PROMPTS 3 for Dave and Todd, 6 for Jughead and Dilton, 9 for Nightsilver <3
1. I need to save you from the beep test before one of us passes out for Dave/Todd
This was fucking hilarious. If I never have to hear about the pacer test again, though, it will be too soon. This may or may not be based on True Life Events. At least, the fake-out thing that Dave did.
The monotony of the beeps and the droning, almost mechanical voice of the operator, would have been enough to put Dave to sleep, if, well, he weren’t too busy running. And yes, he was a superhero, so this sort of thing should likely have been a piece of cake for him, but there was a difference between running for your life and running because a sadistic mechanical voice kept telling you to “run as long as possible.” His own breathing was harsh in his ears and caught on the edges of his throat. He could make it to the end of the test, he knew, but damn if he wouldn’t rather die. He flicked his eyes over to where Marty had “tripped” and gotten himself eliminated at the very beginning of the test. He tossed Dave a thumbs up and a grin and Dave changed his mind. He didn’t want to die, he wanted to murder his friend.
Yes, that sounded much better.
Dave cast his eyes to the other side, where Todd was keeping up with him- if only barely. Todd looked as bad as he did, if not worse. His hair was plastered against his forehead with sweat, and he looked like he was about to pass out.
His vision was starting to blur, his breaths were not enough to fill the void that currently had replaced his lungs.
They both wanted to beat this, but at this point they were the only ones still running. As far as Dave was concerned, they had already won.
He had to stop the madness before one or both of them had to be hospitalized.
The machine in the corner beeped again, prompting another about face.
In an incredibly exaggerated movement, brought on half by his inability to continue, and half by the fact that they were both about to die, Dave lurched to the side.
He knocked into Todd with as little force as he could manage while still using enough momentum to make sure that they both fell to the ground.
The machine beeped again.
Neither of them tried to get back up, and, after a moment, their gym teacher shut the stereo off.
“Asshole.” Todd swore at him, after a moment.
“You’re welcome.” Dave gasped back.
At least they were still conscious.
2. you are the witch/wizard on 9th street and I am the poor patron who’s cursed been cursed by a succubus. Help me. For Jughead/Dilton
This could so easily become A Thing. Private Paranormal Investigator-part time cursebreaker- Jughead Jones III. I want it, immensely.
The boy across from Jughead was tiny, his beautiful eyes magnified from behind his glasses. His hands were folded politely in his lap, and his face was painfully earnest. Jughead couldn’t imagine anyone trying to curse him. He exuded goodness in a way that Jughead found to be almost painfully endearing.
“By a succubus?” Jughead could not imagine how this adorable boy had gotten himself into such a situation.
“Listen, Mr. Jones, everyone says that you’re the person to come to. You’re the best wizard on this side of town, if anyone can break this curse, it’s you.”
It must be a Tuesday. Things like this only ever happened on Tuesdays. Cute boys never came to him to break a curse set upon them by a jilted ex, or, in this case, a succubus, on a Wednesday or a Friday.
The world wasn’t nice enough to him for this to end well.
Jughead reached into the drawer on the right side of his desk (not the left side. That was only for very special emergencies.) and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He passed them to the boy on the other side, whose name he refused to learn, because learning someone’s name was step one to becoming attached, and that was, in his experience, a very bad thing.
Besides, once this curse business was sorted, Jughead was sure Mr. Baby Blues was going to go back to whatever relationship he was in that this succubus had tried so desperately to break up. That was just common sense.
Of course, the world wasn’t lucky enough to let him have that, either. The boy (Dilton Doiley, the papers he’d filled out, said) had meticulously listed his symptoms, the effects of the curse, the dealings he’d had with the succubus, and his relationship status.
Jughead was not caffeinated enough for this.
Or prepared for curse breaking when the cursed person in question was quite so delightful to be in the company of.
Jughead knew that he’d be asking Dilton Doiley out for coffee before the week was up before he’d even figured out what kind of curse it was that Dilton had been set under.
3. I am the museum curator and you can’t sleep inside the exhibit!! Stop moving the displays around at night for fun!! For nightsilver
Okay, so I changed this one a little. But only a little. And it was fun!! Sue me!!
Kurt was beginning to think that the museum was haunted.
As the night watchman for the museum, it was his job to ensure the safety of the patrons and the integrity of the museum was kept intact.
Okay, so it was his job to make sure that no kids came in and drew dicks on the walls, but mostly the integrity thing.
This was making him look bad, and he did not appreciate it.
He patrolled the exhibits with a vigor that he hadn’t shown since he’d first shown up, terrified to lose his job.
The beam from his flashlight was a red herring, he could see perfectly well without it, but in the event someone tried to review the security footage to find what he couldn’t he didn’t want anyone to wonder why he was patrolling in the dark.
He wasn’t about to let these unfortunate events out his mutation to the higher-ups.
He felt a breeze behind him, and a squeak alerted him to something moving off to the side.
His eyes caught a glint of silver.
“Who’s there?” He called. His ears caught another noise, and he lashed out with his tail, handily hidden by the image inducer.
“Oof!” The person who collided with his tail cried, followed by another sharp exhalation as he hit the ground. Kurt whipped around, shining the beam of his flashlight onto what he assumed must be another mutant. His silver hair shone in the beam of the flashlight, and his eyes squinted against the light shining in his eyes.
“What are you doing here?!” Kurt demanded.
“Nothing-” The boy began, despite the fact that Kurt could see that half of the exhibit had already been rearranged. Kurt leveled a borderline poisonous glare at him, and he lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, I’ve been sleeping here.” Kurt sputtered.
“You can’t- This isn’t a hotel! You can’t sleep in the exhibits!!” Kurt cried. “And you can’t rearrange the displays!”
“Go put them back!” Kurt demanded. “You- I can get you a room where I stay, but you have to put everything back right now!” The boy pouted but he blurred and was in a standing position. When Kurt shone his flashlight over to the exhibit, everything was back in its proper place. Kurt blinked, but didn’t let himself seem phased. “Thank you.” He said. “Now go hide in the security booth and don’t move until I come get you.”“What?”“I did promise you a place to stay, but I still have a job to do.” Kurt sighed. “Now shoo.” The boy blinked one more time and blurred. Kurt resumed his route.
He would have a lot of explaining to do to the professor.
