>you are at Acteus’s house, taking a break from constructing the mancave fort you both had planned, sitting on the couch across from Acteus on his own recliner
>the fort is nearly finished, you just have to put in the drywall and furnishings
>but that’ll have to wait
>Acteus just challenged you to a Bloodlines game in Dwarf Fortress
>he’s been playing for a while now, and seems to have gotten the hang of it
>Bloodlines goes a bit like this: You control the fort for a certain amount of years (in this case, one), then you give control to him, and after his year limit is up, you get to command the fort again, ad infinitum
>that is, until one of you lets the fort crumble
>rules are slightly modified, as normally a lot more people play and nobody really gets control again, but nobody else in town wants to sit at a computer all day for some reason
 
>”So, Anonymous. What do you think?”
>this newfag could stand to use an asswhoopin’
>erm, not the sexual kind
“I accept the challenge, but under one term:”
>you smile
“If I win, you have to-”
>”OOOH, no, I am /not/ sucking your cock!”
“No, no, no, you misunderstand! If you lose, I want you to do ALL the heavy lifting in your mancave. All the furniture, all the drywall. Everything.”
>”Fine. But if I win…”
>Acteus smiles a smile more devious than yours
>”You have to suck my dick!”
>goddamnit Acteus
“That’s hypocritical, and you know it!”
>”Oh, you must too afraid to play, knowing that you’ll soon be having THIS-”
>he whips his large, flaccid, black cock out
>”-In your gob!”
>you reel backwards a bit, horrified at the thought of the perverse act, and ignore your own acts of the perverted kind
>but you steel yourself; you’ve been playing DF for years now, and Acteus just started about a month ago
>he’s no match for you, and you know it
“Alright, I accept!”
>”I hope you like thick, juicy hotdogs, Anon.~”
“Fuck off. Prepare to have numerous spine injuries!”
 
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
 
>It is year twenty in your little fortress, your own year to do things
>things are going to shit fast, but it’s Autumn now
>you only have to hold out until Spring next year, though, and then Acteus will be buttfucked into oblivion by all these shitty fucking bees that are god-damn everywhere
>’Urist mcDislikesbees cancels move important fucking stone: stung by Asshole Bee’
>’Urist mcAsshole cancels build wall: stung by Asshole Bee’
>over and over again, spamming the announcement box with these messages
>pieces of shit
>but aside from the only Very Annoying bees, there’s the obvious threat of the giant rotten megabeast that just showed up
>it’s a giant parrot with deadly blood, and some ribs on the outside of it’s body
>also it’s reviving all these corpses of things you slaughtered, as well as the severed body parts
>no wait, that’s just the fucking necromancer
>luckily, your entrance has collapsed just now, so they can’t get in
>unluckily, the cave-in also destroyed your farm plots, the only real stable source of food
“Acteus, couldn’t you have put proper support in those farming rooms?”
>”You ass, you could have done that years ago.”
>welp
>now to starve everyone to death
>implying they won’t go berserk and kill everyone else before that, considering fifty of your seventy-five dwarves were trapped outside building a perimeter wall
>oh good, they’ve rose from the dead seeking flesh, how nice
“Couldn’t you have ordered that wall to be built earlier?”
>”No, because I wanted to try and get rid of the gaping rectal cavity in our fort known colloquially as ‘bees.’ Unfortunately, it didn’t work.”
“I can see that.”
>a message pops up at the bottom of the screen, stating that it is now Winter
>Acteus is clearly terrified at this
>”Shitshitshitshitshit-”
>he runs around the room, fluttering his wings and getting dust on everything
>the game pauses as a message comes up reading something vaguely along the lines of:
>’Urist mcFuckyofort has gone berserk!’
>here comes the tantrum spiral
 
>the enraged dwarf runs through the narrow underground tunnels, destroying all in his way as it nears the end of the year
>he doesn’t even allow them to get mad at him for slicing them up
>fucking professional swordsdwarves, man.
>as the horrible monstrosity that used to be a sane dwarf reaches the last miner in your fort, as well as the last one alive, the year end is nigh
>this is it
>the end
>now you’ll have to suck mothdick
>i-it won’t be that bad, right?
>Acteus just looks at you and cackles
>the swordsdwarf reaches the miner…
>...swings his sword…
>...and gets a pickaxe to the brainpan
>he drops, dead, to the ground, and the timer ticks over to a new year
>all that’s left is the miner, now huddled in a corner of a bedroom
>Acteus stops the laughter, and looks at the screen, bewildered
>”I…”
>”...”
>”...Shit.”
>mere weeks later in-game, and the poor dwarf starves to death
>Acteus hangs his head as you cheer in victory, free from the terror of having to swallow moth-sperm
 
>that night, you sip a banana smoothie while Acteus hauls all the furniture around and puts in the walls.
>It’s a great to be a ‘professional’ DF player
>Acteus didn’t complain, but he did swing his limp cock in front of your face a few times
>and so, when you both finished construction, you forgot past differences and danced the night away with your new dico-ball and dance floor, drinking from your sweet new beer-dispensers all the while
>and as Acteus begins fall asleep on the large sofa-bed combo you (or rather, he) brought down here, you lay down next to him, tired from dancing and drinking
>as you lie there, drifting off to sleep, Acteus slowly wraps his tired and drunken hooves around you
>you don’t even bother removing them from yourself as you fall into the wondrous void known as sleep
 
[END]