Dave Strider (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shenunigans) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kingdomcomes2017-06-12 06:09 pm
shenunigans) wrote in kingdomcomes2017-06-12 06:09 pm
I used to know, but now that shit don't feel right
Who: John and Dave
What: Dave slowly becomes a popsicle, John must valiantly rescue him.
When: Early in the event, in the evening.
Where: Starting with Dave's shit shack.
Warnings: Swearing and possible ~intimacy~
Slowly but surely, Dave had begun to acclimate to his new environment. It's kind of like some new-age body-purge camp in which everyone collectively rejects technology and the modern world and replaces it with a simple life and copious amounts of physical intimacy. He's doing odd jobs, feeding himself, going outside and meeting new people and all sorts of fruity garbage. What's most surprising is that he doesn't hate it (entirely).
It kind of helps that he's sorted things out with John, things are less awkward and they're sort of adapting their friendship to the laws of the lands. Dave doesn't know what they are anymore, but he's not complaining.
Until now. For unrelated reasons. It's gone from being tepid and slightly chill at night to monstrously cold in a few days. Asking around is yielding him no useful information, all he can gather is that shit is fucked.
He idly considers summoning Egbert and borrow some body heat or something fiendishly gay like that, but instead he opts tough it out. He's lit a fire, he's got soup, he's got tea that doesn't remotely replace coffee in his heart and he's bundled himself like a worm into every blanket in the shack.
But he's still fucking cold.
His journal is in front of him, because it's the next best thing to the internet. It takes him a while to muster up his dignity and send a message to John.
here lies dave
found frozen on the floor with a hand on his quill and his dick
rest in peace
What: Dave slowly becomes a popsicle, John must valiantly rescue him.
When: Early in the event, in the evening.
Where: Starting with Dave's shit shack.
Warnings: Swearing and possible ~intimacy~
Slowly but surely, Dave had begun to acclimate to his new environment. It's kind of like some new-age body-purge camp in which everyone collectively rejects technology and the modern world and replaces it with a simple life and copious amounts of physical intimacy. He's doing odd jobs, feeding himself, going outside and meeting new people and all sorts of fruity garbage. What's most surprising is that he doesn't hate it (entirely).
It kind of helps that he's sorted things out with John, things are less awkward and they're sort of adapting their friendship to the laws of the lands. Dave doesn't know what they are anymore, but he's not complaining.
Until now. For unrelated reasons. It's gone from being tepid and slightly chill at night to monstrously cold in a few days. Asking around is yielding him no useful information, all he can gather is that shit is fucked.
He idly considers summoning Egbert and borrow some body heat or something fiendishly gay like that, but instead he opts tough it out. He's lit a fire, he's got soup, he's got tea that doesn't remotely replace coffee in his heart and he's bundled himself like a worm into every blanket in the shack.
But he's still fucking cold.
His journal is in front of him, because it's the next best thing to the internet. It takes him a while to muster up his dignity and send a message to John.
here lies dave
found frozen on the floor with a hand on his quill and his dick
rest in peace
no subject
It's convenient that he's thinking about Dave just about the same time as the message comes through. John is huddled under his blankets, trying to figure out what to do with his time now that romping around outside isn't particularly lucrative. He scrutinizes the message, giving it a smirk, as if Dave might actually see it. Man, what he wouldn't give for fantasy face-time or something. They've got to get on that.
i'll start writing the eulogy
"if only he hadn't chosen freedom over servitude to some weird queen lady with giant boobies"
how does that sound?
no subject
was that a good zinger
i dont have time for this i am quite literally dying
my dinger is going to snap off if i try to take a whizz
shit is getting real dire out here
its like the day after tomorrow out here
which means you should sacrifice yourself to join me
no subject
i have read fanfiction before, dave, i know exactly where this is going.
i will buy you an extra blanket myself if i have to!
but you are my best friend and i can't allow you to play into such a lame trope.