hs_olympics | BONUS ROUND 1

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bonus round

BONUS ROUND 1

Bonus Round 1

Genre-Mixing

Hey, shippers! Welcome to your very first bonus round proper--we hope you have lots of fun with it! This time around we're going to be asking you to mix it up a little--each fanwork posted for this round will be a mish-mash of two different genres, blended together in a delightful incestuous slurry to create an UNSTOPPABLE CREATIVE CONCOCTION--er. Or. Something.

Yeah, we're genre-mixing. That's what we're doing this round.

Rules

Submit prompts! Prompts should consist of two different genres and one ship. This cannot be your team's ship! These are worth 5 points each, for a maximum of 100 points per team.

Look through the prompts and fill whichever you like!

You may not fill prompts for your ship, nor may you fill your own team's prompts.

Fills should be posted as replies to the prompts which they are for, following the format below. They may be any medium.

Title Format
If you are starting a new thread, please use this format in your title.

Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team YOU belong to; please use the characters and quadrant, not whatever portmanteau or nickname you've come up with.
If your team name is not in this format and in the title we cannot guarantee that it will be counted.

If you are filling a prompt, use this format in your title.

Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team YOU belong to; please use the characters and quadrant, not whatever portmanteau or nickname you've come up with.
If your team name is not in this format and in the title we cannot guarantee that it will be counted.

Posts not using this format in the title will be understood to be unofficial discussion posts, no matter what they contain. They, like all comments on the comm, are subject to the Wank Policy.

Scoring
For prompt posts: 5 points each (maximum of 100 per team)

For fills (as stated here):
First 5 entries in each post: 30 (per entry)
Entries 6-10 in each post: 20 (per entry)
Entries 11-15 in each post: 10 (per entry)
Entries 16+ in each post: 5 (per entry)

All scored content must be created/assembled new for this round.

If you have any questions, please ask them at the FAQ post here, or email them to us (homestuck.shipping at gmail). Otherwise, we cannot guarantee that we will see them in a timely fashion!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Aradia<3Rose - urban fantasy + decopunk/dieselpunk

There was a fairy in the alleyway.

There could be no other word for it, although she was rather larger than the stories made them out to be and it was slumped against a wrought iron grate that should have been burning her flesh if the stories Rose had read were right. The grey skin and horns were something of a surprise as well. But the shimmering red wings at her back spoke of no other type of creature, real or imaginary.

"Clearly I've been spending too much time at Mother's factory. The fumes are giving me visions," she said dryly, pressing a hand to her forehead. Or perhaps her mother, seeking to teach her the joys of a midday tipple, had somehow slipped her absinthe while she was at the factory cheering the workers with tunes from her violin as a passive-aggressive jab at the fact that her mother's workers may be anything other than perfectly content working their days away under such a wonderful taskmaster. Rose wouldn't put it past her. Her mother's mind worked in strange ways; good for making her the brilliant machinist who had brought their nation everything from passenger liners which sailed smoothly in any waters to phonographs small enough to carry everywhere--"So it will be so much easier for everyone to hear you once your playing becomes famous, darling," she'd said in front of an entire crowd when she'd announced that one, putting her temporarily well ahead in their age-old battle--but didn't always lead to the best parenting skills.

The fairy shifted at the sound of her voice, and cracked open yellow eyes shot through with streaks of red; bloodshot or simply how a fairy's eyes were meant to look Rose couldn't have said. "Help me," she whispered, and though she looked weak enough for even something as simple as speaking to be a chore her voice was soft and light and musical. It would be, Rose thought in unexpected non sequitur, a lovely accompaniment to her playing.

"I'm afraid that consorting with hallucinations is generally considered a bad--" Rose began.

Only for her words to be brought to a sudden stumbling halt by a simple, "Please," and a delicate hand reaching out towards her. When the fairy saw that it had effectively stopped her dismissal, at least for a moment, she went on, "Please. You're the only one who's stopped. I can't stand it, this sunlight, this air. Please. I'm meant to be done with dying."

Though it really was a bad idea to give visions too much of your attention, Rose was sure of that, she found herself closing the distance between them in spite of herself. As she got closer she could see that here and there the fairy's skin was blistered as if burned and her whole body was trembling faintly. And, figment of her imagination or not, Rose found her her heart moved by pity.

"Very well," she said, pulling her scarf from her neck and wrapping it around the fairy's head until nothing but her eyes could be seen. "My house is in a forest. There will be fresh air, at least, and we'll see if the shade from trees suits you better than the type the edifices in the city provide. If you can stand the stench of gin and perfume in my mother's hovermobile long enough to reach it, at any rate."

She helped the fairy hoist herself to her feet, her body so light that it was an easy task even though Rose had never considered herself especially strong. But before she could begin leading her towards the factory the fairy grabbed her hands between both of her own and fervently murmured "Thank you."

The look of intense gratitude in those red-streaked eyes brought Rose up short once more but she did her best to shrug it off, weakly responding, "Yes, well. My mother always did say that I have a weak spot for strays I've found in alleyways."

Sollux<>Terezi - buddy cop + cyberpunk

TA: TZ
TA: hey TZ
TA: wake up and 2ay 2omething
TA: tell me you're alriight

You wake up to the smell of sweet-honey mustard and the constant sound of your prox alarm, the one that Sollux insisted on having installed so that he'd feel better about you knowing where people were. You switch it off; the sound isn't going to help you, now that you know they're there.

Better let him know that you're okay, or else he'll just keep bugging you!

GC: H3Y CMON 1M F1N3 >:-]
GC: T4K3S MOR3 TH4N 4 L1TTL3 4MBUSH TO T4K3 M3 OUT
TA: TZ
TA: you are 2o iimpo22iibly full of iit
TA: iif ii hadnt hacked that 2ec drone they'd 2tolen you'd be dead
TA: that wa2 an iincrediibly well planned ambu2h and you know iit
GC: OK4Y 4LR34DY! >:-[
GC: WH3N 1 T4K3 TH3M 1N 1 W1LL G1V3 TH3M 4LL TH3 PROPS FOR TH4T!
GC: FOR NOW 1 N33D SOM3 B4CKUP
TA: already done, do you thiink ii'm stupiid
TA: dammiit ii knew ii 2hould've come wiith you in per2on
TA: why diidn't ii get off of my 2tupid butt
GC: H3Y, NOW, NON3 OF TH4T!
TA: riight
TA: 2orry
TA: 2ending you updated 2chematiic2 now

The data-transfer flashes in your interface. You poke at the sound and are rewarded with a complete, up-to-date echolocation map. Bless that partner of yours - he must've done some digging while you were out! Probably got into one of the sec-drone's heads and uploaded his own echolocation software. That'll make getting out of here a dozen times easier.

"- the hell did the cop go?" someone said, and your echoloc protocols immediately locate them. Ten o'clock, not far at all, and he's got a gun. Sounds like fun.

You jump up, grab your cane, and leap out, disarming the jerk before he can even blink. "Right here," you say, speedcuffing the first guy and smacking the other guy right in the stomach, so that you can grab his arms and cuff them too. "And you are you are under arrest!"

Seriously, why was he so worried? It was almost too easy!

The mustard symbol blinks again.

TA: okay that wa2 good
TA: but the re2t of them are coming two check on them 2oon
TA: and ii would recommend not being there when they arriive
TA: ii'll be watchiing but ii am only able two do 2o much from here
TA: 2o you'd better be careful

You'd grin at him, if he was really there.

GC: DONT YOU KNOW BY NOW?
GC: G3TT1NG OUT OF T1GHT SPOTS 1S MY SP3C14LTY!
GC: R3M1ND M3 TO BUY YOU 4 TH4NK-YOU DR1NK WH3N W3 G3T TOG3TH3R 4G41N! >:]
TA: fiine
TA: ii'm goiing two hold you two that TZ
TA: now get goiing

twinArmageddons [TA] has ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

The exit's not far, if you can stay out of the way of the sec-drones. Time to show Sollux he's worrying about nothing again - you were MADE for this kind of action!

You grip your cane tightly in your hand and start running. You'll read these two jerks their rights later.

Edited 2012-06-12 20:41 (UTC)

Re: FILL: TEAM ERIDAN<>ROSE

watchfob - 2012-06-12 21:53 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM ERIDAN<>ROSE

zoamh - 2012-06-13 06:26 (UTC) - Expand

Nepeta<3Terezi - Chinese mythology + forbidden romance

~~ohmygosh this palette cries~~
tiger/dragon rivalry = forbidden romance! >:3

Re: FILL: TEAM Autoresponder<3Roxy

grausam - 2012-06-17 02:24 (UTC) - Expand

Feferi<>Vriska - comedy of manners + found poetry

I don't know what I'm doing. I don'y even know if I hit the genre you wanted, but I hope you like it. I was going to make it longer but every thing I tried to add took away from it. :/

-
Ten million courtiers
Unparalleled magnificence
Revolving around the centre of power
The empress
Let there be sought a young woman
A beautiful, admirable woman with
Dignity and
Nobility
Confident
Dynamic
Efficient
Let her comfort and lie in thy bosom
Moirallegiance, the pale quadrant
Perfectly Arranged
-

Sources:
tvtropes.org
The Book of 1st Kings: The Bible
www.emilypost.com/image-consulting
mspaintadventures.wikia.com/wiki/Troll_Relationships

Eridan<>Rose - body horror + slice of life

Edited (oops, forgot header) 2012-06-12 18:33 (UTC)

You come limping home with a hand pressed to your middle and a really nice shirt ruined. "Ros," you're whining as you get the door open, "Ros, my stitches."

You hear her sigh before you see her come breezing down the stairs, fluttery and gothic as shit and even now when you're pretty seriously distracted there's still a bit of you that goes stupid over her. All that cool elegance and composure, damn.

Then she says, "So what did you do this time?"

"Wwhat makes you so sure it wwas my fault?" you demand, trying to give her a good pout. You're distracted, though. This really is pretty uncomfortable.

Rose cups your face in her soft human hands and gives you that little pitying smile she does, the one where her eyebrows alone are saying you poor stupid wreck, how do you do this to yourself, and that's how you know you're really home. "It's always your fault, you arrogant brat," she says, and paps your cheek so gently you could die all over again.

You sniff. "I ain't concedin the point," you say, "but I guess I could not argue it just at the moment."

"On account of you need a hand?" Rose asks, soft smile turning all teasing.

"On account a I need your inestimable expertise," you say, because two can play at the mocking-each-other's-speech-tics thing, and you award yourself a few extra points for doing it when you're hurt.

She sighs. There's something sort of comforting about how she refuses to make a big deal out of it when something goes wrong. You get to do all the big-deal-making yourself, which is generally how you like it. "All right, let's see how bad it is," she says, and starts in on the buttons of your shirt.

"Complete fuckin loss is how bad it is," you complain. "It's fuckin impossible to get blood out a silk, Ros, as wwell you know."

"Tell me you won," she says, without bothering to double-check that it was another fight (it's always another fight), "and I do not have to go stalking the streets in search of your assailant."

When trolls claim that humans can never understand how serious moirallegiance is, you think to yourself, there's a troll that nevver met rose lalonde. You lean your head on her shoulder as she strips off your utterly destroyed champagne silk button-down. "A course I wwon," you tell her. "I been through wworse an come out in one piece." You look down. "Evventually."

"If only it didn't take such work to keep you that way," Rose says. "Here, sit down while I fetch my supplies."

You sit, on one of the smooth kitchen chairs that can be wiped clean later, and hold your guts in while your moirail goes to get her needle and thread. You bleed really fucking slow now you're dead, but you're still oozing a little purple out between your fingers. The punk who jumped you tonight only got one good hit in, but it was enough to split a bunch of the stitches that hold your two halves together. You hate it when this happens. It's uncomfortable and looks a mess and really gets in the way of pretending like being dead hasn't changed anything.

Rose comes back before you can work yourself up into a good sulk, though. "Stop making that face," she says as she kneels beside your chair. "You're going to be fine." She brushes your hands out of the way and takes a good look. Your stitches have torn out for the space of about six inches, and there's a loop of intestine trying to sneak out the gap. Rose makes hmmm noises and pulls a set of gloves on.

"I just hate this," you tell her. "Feels all gross, havvin this ugly mess across my middle." Rose tucks your guts back in and picks up her needle, and you chew on your lip because you don't care for this part at all.

"Would you take better care of yourself if you didn't find it so ugly?" she asks. She's a quick hand with the needle, closing you back up with tight, even stitches.

"Maybe," you say through gritted teeth. Her gloves have little purple smears on them when you glance down. "You got somethin in mind?"

"Embroidery," Rose says crisply. She traces a little filigree along your raw edges in blood. "We can come up with a design you like, and I can give you some stitches that are decorative as well as functional."

You picture that, your own design stitched across your skin in fine fancy thread, the message that would send: fuck you, I ain't ashamed a wwhat I am. "Yeah, I guess maybe I wwould havve to be more careful wwith 'em then," you admit. "Sounds pretty swwag." She's fucking clever, is Rose.

"Indeed," she says, looking all pleased with herself. "It's a date."

Re: FILL: TEAM Dirk<3Equius

watchfob - 2012-06-12 22:44 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM Dirk<3Equius

nextian - 2012-06-12 23:21 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM Dirk<3Equius

vangirl - 2012-06-13 00:05 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM Dirk<3Equius

wallwalker - 2012-06-13 03:41 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM Dirk<3Equius

zoamh - 2012-06-13 05:54 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM Dirk<3Equius

runespoor - 2012-06-13 08:01 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM Dirk<3Equius

thelawisnotmocked - 2012-06-14 00:19 (UTC) - Expand

Dirk<>Roxy: Revolution + Putting on the Ritz pretty please?

(Wow dude GREAT prompt, I had a lot of fun writing this one!)

---

It’s dark inside the long-abandoned theatre, the only light coming in from small gaps in the ceiling. Sequins litter the floor in pink and black, mingling with bloodstains and the thick dust of an era long forgotten. The floorboards creak and the stage has fallen through. There are bullet holes in the curtains.

The orange work-jackets and blue helmets look frightfully anachronistic.

The leader of the demolition crew gives the place a once over, before turning back to the man with the detonator and giving the nod.

“This place ought to have been knocked down long ago,” he says.

---

After every show she goes to the bar in the lobby and orders a martini. Her dress is falling off her shoulders and it’s evident that she’s tired. Adoring eyes follow her as she slips out of the dressing room and into the crowd. They want her to sing again. She plays her part well, winks at the boys and makes sure they’re coming back tomorrow.

“Another night,” the bartender says, sliding across her drink. “Sick of it all yet?”

She shakes her head and grins at him. “Never gets old.”

He nods.

“Say, barkeep,” she says, leaning over the bench, “have you got a name?”

“Dirk,” he says, pouring champagne for another customer. “And you’re the famous Roxy Lalonde, aren’t you?”

She smiles at him. “Might be. Now tell me something, Dirk. How long do you think we have?”

He looks at her, confused. “How long until what?”

“Until they shut this place down. ‘Sonly a matter of time, isn’t it?”

She’s making him uncomfortable, and she knows it. He walks off to serve someone else, but it’s getting late now and the regular drunks have already exceeded their tabs for the night and are now distracted by the striptease. He has no excuse to avoid her questions.

“I don’t know about you,” she says, “but I want to fight. I want to fight the government.”

“Good for you,” he says quietly.

“I’m serious. We should take them on. You and me. They could come here any time, Dirk. Any night. They could shut us down.”

She takes a deep breath, as though what she’s about to say will be the most momentous line she’s ever uttered.

“We could die tonight.”

Dirk ignores her. She’s beyond tipsy, and she’s saying things she’ll regret in the morning.

“I’m serious.”

She reaches out across the bar and grabs his collar. “Let’s make love,” she whispers.

He gapes at her. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Like hell I don’t,” she says, and before he can even think of a way to disagree she’s climbing over the bar and dragging him off. “Someone else will look after this.”

Powerless to resist her surprisingly strong grip, he allows her to pull him to her dressing room. It’s evident who’s in charge here as she pins him to the chest of drawers and twists an arm behind her to unzip her dress.

He shakes his head. “I can’t do this, Roxy.”

“Why not,” she mumbles, kissing his neck, “you don’t wear a ring.”

“For good reason!” he exclaims, pushing her away. She rights herself quickly and scrutinises him.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, but if we die tonight, I don’t want to... die alone...”

Dirk is overcome with pity for her. She’s depressed, she’s drunk herself into oblivion, and now she’s convinced that the government are coming tonight to bring the war to a head in one of the many faceless, illegal theatres. He rubs his temple and walks over to Roxy, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “No-one’s going to die tonight. I can promise you that.”

“Dirk, you don’t understand. I have a friend on the insi—”

He runs a hand through her hair to silence her. “No-one is going to die.”
Time passes slowly, if at all, and they spend indeterminate moments just standing there in Roxy’s dressing room, holding each other to forget their lives.

Neither of them could say how much later it was when the shouting started. It was nothing new – bar-fights were practically a given in this part of town. Dirk reluctantly pulls away. “I should probably go out there and sort this out.”

“Don’t!” Roxy says immediately. “Dirk, don’t you dare...”

“It’s my job,” he says apologetically, brushing past her and out the door.

“DON’T YOU DARE,” she yells, following him and latching onto his sleeve. “Don’t go out there, Dirk!”

But she can’t stop him this time, and is pulled along as he runs out of the backstage area. He’s going the wrong way – he doesn’t know this part of the theatre as well as Roxy, and he’s headed for the stage.

“No, this is all wrong,” Roxy mutters to herself. She’s finally let go of his sleeve, but she’s still following him. “You’re going the wrong way!”

He doesn’t hear her and runs out onto the stage.

It’s carnage.

She runs on after him, on the stage with a view of the whole theatre. The girls from the striptease are cowering in the wings on the other side, and in the stalls a brawl has broken out between the regular theatregoers and men in the government’s military uniform. They’re hitting people with the butts of their rifles, and here and there a few shots ring out, bullets pinging off the ceiling.

Roxy takes Dirk’s hand and walks to the centre of the stage.

She grabs the microphone and starts to sing.

Re: FILL: TEAM DAVE<3TEREZI

ferris_23 - 2012-06-13 02:52 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM DAVE<3TEREZI

grimd0rk - 2012-06-13 03:27 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM DAVE<3TEREZI

sempiternalserpent - 2012-06-13 05:16 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM DAVE<3TEREZI

grimd0rk - 2012-06-13 05:32 (UTC) - Expand

Pourquoi story + grocery list, AR♥PM♥WV.

[This is from an alternate session, I think.]

Alright, we have the milk, the eggs, the pumpkin... Almost done, darling. Soon we can head home and you can rest. I promise.

I'll tell you what. Why don't I tell you where all our food comes from? Where the garden came from that replaced the deserts?

I know, I know, you've heard it before. But it's a good story, and I like to tell it.

A long time ago, the world ended.

Fire rained down and burnt away what had come before - the people there, the cities, the forests, everything, until all that was left was sand and silence.

But four people found the ruined world, came to it one by one. One was a man who had tried to lead his people to happiness and who had failed them instead. One was a woman who wanted to make everyone's voice heard, no matter the cost to her. One sought law and order beyond all else, sought justice for those who could not seek it themselves. And one had been a queen of a golden world, a world of shining towers and beautiful skies, a world that had fallen.

They all came, one by one, for their own reasons, and they found the ruined world.

And they found each other.

At first they focused only on their survival - on finding the food among the sand and ruins. On nothing else. And they fought, and they nearly fell again and again.

Finally, the queen did fall, caught by something dark among the sandy wastes - and from her blood, bright and red, bloomed a patch of strawberries among the desert. The most beautiful red strawberries you've ever seen.

The three worked together after that, planting the strawberries, tending the little plant, helping it grow, and other plants began to grow too. Good, sweet things like strawberries and pumpkins and rich, hearty things like potatoes. The garden was nurtured by the queen's blood and body and sacrifice and by the closeness of the three, and it is said when at last they fell in love, all of them together, a thousand trees and ten thousand flowers grew that day, and it rained for the first time in many, many years.

And that's where the garden comes from, and it spread to cover the whole world because their love was so great.

What's that?

...I guess it is a silly story. Plants don't grow on love alone, of course. But a silly love story isn't always a bad thing, is it?

Now let's go home, darling. We have everything on the list, and your other father should be done with his trials by now. Hopefully they didn't put your mother on too long a mail route today, eh?

...Yes, I love you too.

Our little garden.

Re: FILL: TEAM Vriska<3Kanaya

ex_lionpyh573 - 2012-06-23 08:22 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM Vriska<3Kanaya

kolkhozi - 2012-06-23 08:32 (UTC) - Expand

(reply from suspended user)

Oooh yes I am going to do this ASAP!

Jade <3 Rose
space pirates and magical girl

I hope this is OK;;;

Re: FILL: TEAM DAVE <3 ROSE <3 TEREZI

munkychef - 2012-06-17 04:24 (UTC) - Expand

Eridan <3< Sollux <3Roxy (<> Eridan)
Biopunk + Steampunk

Edited 2012-06-12 19:55 (UTC)

Jane<3<(?)GCat, mindswap + detectives

(essentially, roxy and jane have a detective agency and jane gets stuck as a cat in the middle of a case?)

dirk<3uu
domesticity + bizarro fiction

[tags: NSFW, gore, body horror, animal cruelty]

I'm... I'm sorry for this. I don't even know.
___________________________

Dirk awoke and immediately felt something hard and unpleasant inside of his cock. He reached down and felt his appendage. It was lumpy and erected.

"What," he said, sitting up and looking at the green skulled thing that was already up and awake and sitting at the counter, "the fuck did you do to my cock?"

uu turned to Dirk in consternation. He had been focusing on the lizard whose legs he had been tearing off on the countertop, and wasn't happy for the distraction. "It's for my game," uu said, "with the sea cows."

"That doesn't fucking answer my question."

uu rolled his freakishly huge eyes and stood, popping the lizard into his mouth and chewing. He walked over to Dirk and laid a hand on his dick. "It doof thif," he said, still chewing the lizard as if it were bubblegum, the organs and viscera popping in his mouth.

He pressed down on a nub that was sticking out of Dirk's tumescent shaft, and a huge blade unfolded itself from Dirk's urethra. When it had finished it came out to about seven feet long. Each side was sharpened so thin that it seemed to bisect the air.

"Fuck," Dirk said. He contemplated for a moment. "You know you're a demented fucking aberration, right?" He paused. "I guess that’s kinda cool, though."

uu swung Dirk's penis in a semi-circle, and a chunk of their mattress fell to the floor. Then he pushed another button, and the blade retracted back into Dirk's cock. "Clean thaf uff," uu said, pointing at the mattress chunk.

"Why, what are you doing?" Dirk asked.

uu swallowed, then grinned broadly. His teeth were spattered with blood and gristle. "I have games to play," he said.

Dirk sighed and put on his robo maid outfit. It was actually just an apron that barely covered his front. His naked ass was exposed.

He set about cleaning up the mattress piece, as well as the rest of the apartment, since he had already started. The robo maid opened up and helped out, dusting off the room with a taxidermied seagull.

Outside the water was up over the windows. An octopus swam by, a pistol in its hand. It shot out a pane of the window, and water started rushing in. uu ignored it and kept playing video games. Dirk passively aggressively glared through his glasses at uu's back, but uu didn't notice or care.

The octopus was squeezing itself through the window now, so Dirk went over to it and punched it in the head. The octopus looked up at him angrily, and squeezed its firearm through the hole in the window. Dirk pushed his apron out of the way and fingered his cock. The seven foot blade came out and skewered the octopus through the eye.

Dirk cleared the octopus's body away, and then went about repairing the window. He was almost done when uu tapped him on the shoulder. "It's time for our game with the sea cows," he said. "Take off that stupid apron and come on."

Dirk scowled at him and then turned back to the window. "See if I hold your hand tonight," he muttered as he finished repairing it. Then he followed uu up to the roof.

The roof was covered in checkered tiles. Dirk looked around. He didn't see any manatees. "What are we playing?" Dirk asked.

"Contact chess," uu said. "The loser dies. You're my queen."

"The loser dies?" Dirk asked.

"Don't worry," uu said. "I have a strategy." He lightly stroked Dirk's dick.

"Is that legal?" Dirk asked.

"Who cares? We're playing against sea cows. It's not like they're smart enough to notice."

Dirk thought about saying something back, but he was interrupted by a terrible screeching sound. It made him want to walk over to the edge of the building and fling himself into the sea, where a thousand beautiful sirens were waiting to carry him back to their home and have glorious fishy sex with him all day. Fortunately, he was gay as fuck, so he just stood there as the sirens flopped up onto the roof.

They were corpulent masses of flesh, their hairy grey stomachs and breasts distending with squelching noises as they settled onto the land. They opened their mouths, and screamed things like "come fuck us" and "drill me hard big boy" in voices that had all the pleasure and charm of a cat falling out of a tree onto a thicket of dead fetuses.

"Can we really take all of them?" Dirk asked.

uu grinned, and pressed the button on Dirk's hard fuckstick.