#also while working on this I realized his horns reminded me of handlebars and now I can’t unsee it

[astrobolical]

Hi hi! I saw you write for Obey Me and was wondering if I could request Mammon, Satan, and Beel with a reader that holds their horns during sex? It’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to!

Grabbing a demon by the horns -

Content Warnings: Ns.fw! MDNI!!, sex in a shared area, riding, biting, growling/slightly animalistic reactions, horny as hell demons, sub-ish Mammon (kinda), oral (GN Receiving), unprotected sex, creampies

Reader: Gender Neutral

Characters: Mammon, Satan, Beelzebub

Hi!! You absolutely can, I love this idea! (Two of my favourites, too ahhhhh!) This was super fun to write, so I hope you like how it turned out! I love how easily these guys can just… do things. They’re insanely strong, capable and absolutely putty in MC’s hands anyway.

I fully believe Mammon’s horns are much stronger than they appear— so he doesn’t need to worry about a human grabbing them being damaging. I think the only brother that would really need to ‘worry’ about that might be Levi, but even then it’d just be the smaller offshoots on his horns, and they’d repair quickly anyway.

Thank you so much for requesting this!

Hands rested against the skin of your hips, grip tentative as Mammon hesitated to guide the pace, to fuck up into you until your hips ached. You could see it in the way his half-lidded eyes stared at where the two of you were connected, the way his hips twitched beneath you in a desperate, needy motion. All bravado stripped from him as you straddled him, raising your hips tantalizingly slowly so only his head remained inside.

“Fuck, MC, yer gonna kill me.” He groaned, head falling back against the pillows strewn across his bed. Slowly you sink yourself back down onto his cock until you are fully seated on his hips, grinding yourself into him, enjoying the way his mouth falls open, little whimpers and moans gracing your ears. His cock twitched, aching for release, precum leaking as he bit his lip.

You allowed yourself to fall forward, arms caging the demon between them, increasing the friction between the two of you, the arousal palpable. Sharp teeth find your wrist as Mammon turns his head to nip, eyes screwed shut as your pace picks up, muffling his little whimpers and cries with your skin.

When your thrusts stilled once more he let out a cry of frustration, the euphoria he’d been feeling slipping through his fingers once again. Your little giggle above him letting him know you knew exactly what you were doing to him, dragging these noises from your demon who would never normally allow you to hear them so easily. “MC!” He whines, cock pulsing. “Come on!”

“Aww, Mammon, wanna cum that bad?” He huffed, glaring up at you as he bit down particularly harshly, causing you to sit back and withdraw your arms from his reach.

Suddenly the hands on your hips gripped tightly, indenting your skin with inevitable bruises in the shape of his fingertips, nails digging in and leaving crescent moon shaped reminders of what was about to happen. Mammon lifted you easily before his hips surged forward to follow.

The motion sent you tumbling forward again, catching yourself on the first purchase that your scrambling hands could find. Mammon was relentless, thrusting upwards with abandon, stilling only momentarily as your hands gripped the horns protruding from his head.

He gave you no time to adjust your grip, growling at the feeling of the pressure your hands provided, as if a switch had been flipped within him.

His eyes narrowed, bouncing you impossibly faster on his dick, ignoring your little pleas to slow, the little cries of his name. “Hold on ‘ta me MC, yer not gettin’ away now.” Despite his bold words you could see the blush on his cheeks, his horns sensitive to your grip as you moved your hands downwards towards his scalp. The base of his horns being touched only adds fuel to his already desperate need for you.

“Wanna fuck you full, MC.” He whimpered, the truth coming forth as he lost himself to the heat of your body, the connection between the two of you, the erotic sight of you losing yourself above him. “Fuck, please, lemme cum inside.”

You nodded erratically, breathless as each powerful thrust knocked the wind from your lungs. The obscene sounds from where skin met skin echoing within Mammon’s room, the way he whimpered and moaned out your name as he neared the edge— it all proved too much as you came undone.

Mammon’s cock twitches as he empties out inside of you shortly after, your tight hole milking him through your own orgasm, his hot cum filling you. He rides out his orgasm before lifting you from his hips, watching the mix of fluids trickle down your thighs, dripping down onto him and he curses at the very sight, heat rushing downwards once again, flipping you onto your back.

You use his horns to pull him downwards into a breathless kiss, and Mammon groans. “Damn, MC…”

He presses himself back into you, not giving you time to recuperate. “Need ya. Need ya again, MC.” He presses his horns into your grip, clearly enjoying the way your hands massage the base where they connect to him. Who were you to deny your precious demon what he needs?

A hot tongue pressed against your sex, hungrily devouring all you had to offer, licking anywhere he could. Satan enjoyed the taste of your body, nestled between your thighs and watching each contortion of your face as he pleasured you. He could feel every twitch of your thighs beneath his fingers, how they tightened around him when he moved his tongue just right.

Hot breath ghosting across your skin made you whimper, the predatorial look in his eyes making your heart race and the heat rushed through you. Satan looked as though he was starving just for you, as if you were the only thing that could fulfill him in that moment. Sharp teeth threatened your most sensitive area, a hint of danger that had your adrenaline pumping, as if simply being at the mercy of the Avatar of Wrath wasn’t enough.

You begged for him, craving how it felt when he filled you, the way his body pressed down against yours, how possessive it could feel to have him hovering over you. “Not yet, MC.” He grumbled into your sex, grinning at how needy you were for him already.

In your desperation you reached out, grabbing onto his horns and tugging him forward roughly, burying him between your thighs to urge him to hurry. What you were met with made your body feel as though it had been set ablaze. Satan snarled, gripping the plush of your thighs in warning as he sat up, wrenching his horns away from you in the process. Though the noise was frighteningly feral, you could see the way his tail swayed behind him, how the fire in his eyes seemed to ignite further— oh, he’d liked that.

“Impatient, are we MC?” He crooned, his hand trailing up your abdomen. “Think it’s funny to grab a demon like that?”

“Grabbing my demon like that.” You corrected, though not as confidently as you’d intended. The look in his eyes alone had you pinned in place, and your voice was lost as you replied in a small whisper.

Satan wasted no more time, complying to your impulses, lifting your legs over his shoulders in one motion and pressing you down hard into the floor of his room where you’d been reading together, mindful of the haphazard towers of books around you.

His cock filled you suddenly, without warning, and you cried out his name in surprise. “You’re so tight for me, MC.” He hummed as you frantically searched for something, anything, to hold to ground yourself as his body rocks into yours, barely hearing his teasing words and tone. Instead you hear his growl as you once again grab him by the horns, pulling him down even if it bends you further in half, pulling him until you can just reach him to press a messy kiss against his mouth.

Satan adjusts readily, tail now lashing at the feeling of being pulled at your whim, riling the already lustful man up further. You’re sure your body will be bruised with the sheer strength behind each thrust, that you’ll leave with deep bites as he tries to restrain himself and mark you as his all at the same time.

He looks almost wild, instincts alight and running rampant with each tug of his horns, each fumble to keep yourself steady.

You lost track of time, senses narrowed in only on the demon using your body for his pleasure, chasing your own high along with him. Each orgasm he ripped from your body leaving you shaking, your limbs weak and your hole spasming around him.

When Satan cums, it’s deep within you, wrenching his horns from your grasp so he can bury his face into your neck, biting down harshly as he growls. His tail still lashing wildly from side to side, a shiver running down his spine as he marks you as his inside and out. “Satan…” you whine, quivering at the pain and pleasure you were lost in.

“It’s okay, MC.” He panted, licking the deep mark he left on your neck before he sat back, staying connected with you as long as he could. “I’ll take care of you.”

A flurry of motion, your back pressed against the coolness of the nearby wall. Contrasting the sheer, overwhelming warmth that overtook you as Beelzebub pressed impossibly close. Large hands moved you with ease, your body weighing nothing to him as he kept you aloft. Your legs wrapping needlessly around his waist, locking him into the proximity he’d set, though you knew he’d never back away now, not when everything he wanted was right before him.

His cock, hard, twitching and desperate for you, pressed deep within you without further warning. Filling you, so deeply buried in your tight heat, his growl mixing with the low moan that spilled from you. So deep, so searingly warm, Beelzebub filled you completely.

His eyes filled with a hunger only you could satiate, his lips greedily claiming yours to stifle your moans as he rocked his hips into yours. Whimpering whispers of his name, flooding out like a mantra, you claw at his back, his shoulders, anywhere your hands could find purchase as his thrusts rocked your entire body, bouncing you perfectly back down onto him.

“Shhh, MC.” He growled, wary of being found in such a precarious situation, yet finding the thought exhilarating at the same time. The contrasting feelings brought a sense of excitement, making your heart race faster, the coil in your belly tightening and the heat consuming your body.

Tremors rippled through your spine as he hit that perfect spot inside of you, blinding pleasure flooding through you and you pressed your lips to his in a desperate attempt to quiet the moans. A deep groan rumbled from Beelzebub, the vibrations tickling your tongue. Your hands moved from his shoulders to bury themselves in his hair, tugging him as close as you could.

Soon your fingers met the plated bumps of his horns, the surface smooth, and you gently massaged the base. A rumbling, loud growl escaped the demon holding you, hips jerking forward erratically at the feeling, and you gripped his horns like a lifeline.

You pulled him by his horns, Beelzebub’s hip stuttering as he pulled away from you, however slightly. His eyes blown wide, overtaken entirely by the dark, hungry lust he had for you but you could see the concern in his gaze as his pace slowed, his breathing laboured. One hand touched your cheek, gently guiding you to meet his gaze, still holding you steady with ease despite the movement.

“Are… you alright?” He breathed, his body shaking as he restrained himself from continuing to take you, to devour you. “Did I hurt you, MC?”

“What?” You stuttered, whining at the loss of the pleasure that had you teetering over the edge just a moment before. “No, no Beel, I’m okay. Please…” You desperately wiggled your hips, silently pleading for him to start again, to give you what you both needed. You pulled his horns again, his time to guide his mouth to yours.

Reassured, Beelzebub’s worry faded away, his wings chittering behind him as he began his brutal pace again. The sound of his skin against yours echoing in the quiet of the kitchen, moonlight filtering through the window.

His grunts, breathing, and growls all you could hear, his scent overwhelming, Beelzebub overwhelmed every sense you had. “Beel, Beel, please—“

Waves of pleasure overtook you as you came undone from his cock alone, grip tightening on his horns and you could feel his grip on your hips tighten, a loud moan coming from your demon as you tightened around him.

Beelzebub pressed in one final time, stilling as his cock twitched, releasing into you, filling you even more, making you unbearably warm. You kissed him, finally releasing his horns in favour of cupping his face in your palms, only moving far enough away to rest your forehead against his as you parted, panting.

“I’m glad you’re okay, MC.” He whispered, nuzzling his forehead into yours, not releasing you from his hold. “When you grabbed my horns I was worried you were trying to stop me.”

“Never, Beel, you’ve never hurt me.” You smiled, touched that even in the throes of passion Beelzebub was still concerned with your safety over his own pleasure. “I’m sorry I just grabbed them like that.”

He laughed, finally pulling himself from your warmth, though still holding you closely. “Don’t be, MC. Next time, will you grab my horns again…?”

You stared at him a moment, before realizing that it must have felt good to Beel. “Of course.” It was your turn to laugh, tucking away that information for the next time you and Beel would have some fun together.

[milf-shizun]

Allowing me more opportunity to be hungry for character lore? Excellent! Vorna: ☀️ 💐 🌼 👀 ❓; Luca: 🌙 💎 👀 ; Althea 🦋📚 👀

Allowing me more opportunity to talk about my dumbass children??? DOUBLE excellent! No seriously, ty, ilysm.

Vorna:

☀️ What makes your OC genuinely happy? A person, an item, their hobby? Where is the place they’re happiest, or most at home? What is the happiest they’ve ever been?

Her family makes her genuinely happy. All she wants is to see Moroven again. As far as hobbies/activities go, she's really into cooking. She knows how to handle rations and she's not opposed to simple foods, but if you give her the opportunity to make a real meal, she's almost too eager.

As of right now, she's the most at home whenever the group stops to make camp. When she was a soldier, they had to do that a lot. And the people she's with right now, while most of them clearly aren't soldiers, they remind her of people she used to know.

The happiest she's ever been, I can't quite share yet. But it was before she left her clan. She had everything she thought she could ever want.

💐 Does your OC like flowers? What are their favourites? Do they keep a garden of some sort? What flowers would they use in a flower crown? (and if you like, research the meanings behind those flowers!)

Ooh, good question. I don't think I've thought of that before. I think that while Vorna is definitely a pretty hardened individual, and she's come to appreciate some of the little things. She's no flower aficionado, but I think she would be really touched by the gesture of someone giving her flowers.

She doesn't keep a garden, but her favorite flower would be a snowdrop. If I were to make a flower crown for her, it would consist of snowdrops, pansies, anemones, gladiolus, and white heather. We love flower symbolism, folks.

🌼 Write a short drabble from your OCs POV meeting their LI (or if they don’t have a love interest, their best friend. If you don’t want to do a drabble, describe their first meeting instead!)

Okay, so I started writing for this, but I quickly realized that it was getting WAY too long. But I loved what was going on, and I didn't want to cut it, so I'm gonna keep it and finish it at a later date. But for this ask, I'm gonna try and explain how Dekran and Vorna came to know each other.

Dekran and Vorna actually knew each other as children. They played together with the other children in the village. They even both went to begin training to become soldiers in the same class, but Dekran dropped out after a month. He was really mouthy and sarcastic, and it got him in trouble with authority a lot. It drove Vorna insane, as someone who took her future as a soldier very seriously. So she wasn't too heartbroken to see him leave.

It wasn't until Vorna finished her training and became a member of her troop, the War Pigs, that Dekran popped back up again. He'd become a hunter/trapper and a bard (not like a battle bard, but a bard, he sings really badly). He'd begun trying to get Vorna's attention so he could start courting her, but she just.... REFUSED to give him the time of day because she thought he was a disobedient, immature little twit. But then also he was really funny and sweet to HER. But Vorna is Vorna and so she crushed those feelings under her iron boot. And Dekran didn't push her.

One day, Vorna was training with her friend Bushki, and Bushki was teasing her about Dekran so they could throw Vorna off balance. And it worked. But Dekran was there watching, and Bushki quickly pushed a sword into his hands and was like "oh hey you, you have a go" and he was just like "uH".

And Vorna was like "FINE just to prove that he's a weak lil bitch and I do NOT have ANY positive feelings towards him, I Will Fight Him." And Dekran, bless him, is no soldier. And Vorna laid him out on his ass.

But you see Dekran, having one brain cell when literally under the boot of a punk lady with a greataxe, just smiles dumbly and calls her amazing. That just makes Vorna *windows dial-up sound*.

He kept showing up for sparring practice after that, and Vorna didn't stop him. And the rest is history. Though, fun fact, it was much later during one of these sparring sessions alone, when Vorna pinned him by the chest under her foot, that he once again only had one brain cell and asked her to marry him.

👀 Describe your OC through the eyes of another person! (bonus + specify who)

Oh BOY. I don't even begin to know where to start with this one, aside from just copy-pasting her character description, and that seems very uncreative of me. YOU tell ME how your character sees her, how about THAT? Gotem.

❓ A random fact or short drabble! Or make up your own question to ask the OC!

Random fact? She loves snow. She would die in snow, if she could. I mean, she wants to die in battle, but preferably a snowy battle. She's also EXCELLENT at making snowmen.

Luca:

🌙 If your OC could have one wish come true what would it be and why? Would there be consequences to this wish or would they regret it once they get what they want? What would they give in return for this wish to come true?

Luca would give almost anything to know who his parents were. I have NO IDEA what my DM has planned, so the consequences of this wish are currently unknowable to me. But he does wish he knew who his parents were, and had gotten to stay with them instead of being raised by an Orc warband. The only good thing that came from the Orcs was that he met Mafareth.

💎 Does your OC collect anything? Is there a reason? When did they start and is it beginning to turn into a little bit of a hoarding issue? What do they do with their collection?

Does "things i've eaten that i probably shouldn't have" count as a collection? Because so far, he's eaten iron bars, giant spider webs, and an unknown number of mysterious mushrooms (one of which made his teeth into a lantern light). He's been eating random shit for most of his life, and he's only planning on eating more random shit in the future.

👀 Describe your OC through the eyes of another person! (bonus + specify who)

I CAN actually give you "Luca the Feral through the eyes of Gnerkle" considering Luca is 6'3" and Gnerkle is like 3" or something, ahsjdkd.

Luca is just a towering hunk of tatted-up, red-skinned muscle with a handlebar mustache and two big ol' bull horns on his head. And he swings a really, really big sword, and stands over Gnerkle like a safety barn whenever demons are about. Which is a lot.

Althea:

🦋 If your OC could change everything (or just something) about their life would they? What would they change? What do they think would happen if they did? What would their loved ones think?

Before going on her adventure, she would've changed everything. She wanted a sign from Oghma so, so badly.

But now, with the campaign over, I think she's happy. She's felt what it was like to have a purpose, to have people need her, to love two people more than herself. And now that she's saved the world, they can do anything they want.

The only thing she wants now, I think, is maybe to start her own library in Oghma's name. She'd be really competitive about it and make it big and full of MORE BOOKS than ANY OTHER temple to Oghma. Aolis would think she's pretentious and probably threaten to burn it down whenever Althea got on his nerves (though I don't think he ever would). Terri wouldn't understand who COULD or WOULD read that much, but if Althea needs her to swing her axe at some monsters in order to get an ancient tome, hell yeah she will.

📚 If your OC was given some kind of forbiddon knowledge, what would they do with it? Would they tell anyone? Use it for evil or good? How would it change their outlook on life, if at all?

Oh, boy, that's all Althea is AFTER is forbidden knowledge. She would curate it for her future library. Probably put it in the restricted section. She wouldn't use it for evil or let it be used for evil in any way, though. Knowledge for the sake of knowledge is Althea's creed, but not at the expense of others.

👀 Describe your OC through the eyes of another person! (bonus + specify who)

She just LOOKS like a nerd, especially to Aolis. Terri sees Althea as tall, bony moon elf with almost no meat on her bones, but to quote Terri's player Rae when Althea cast a level 3 Guiding Bolt with a nat 20 and killed a giant worm, "I just remembered that Althea could seriously fuck someone up if she wanted to".

[magic5ball]

Nature Trail to Hell Arc II: Watt Outta Hell (2)

Chapter 2: I am Captured by Deinonychus Gangsters

           I woke up on a craps table, surrounded by demons. Well, I didn’t know it was a craps table at the time, just that there were a bunch of plastic chips everywhere. I’m just glad I was undead, otherwise the combination of plaster and smoke surrounding me would probably have given me asphyxiation. Normally, I’d try to run, but my body felt like it had just fallen through a building, which judging by the combination of plaster and sawdust around me, it most likely had. If there was one silver lining, the hellions around the table were at least less horrible than a certain purple dinosaur.  

Not to say they didn’t have all sorts of hideous forms, some of which probably weren’t from this plane of existence, but they all had one thing in common: Goodwill clothes. I could tell because the clothes at those stores always have this weird smell of white walls and charity that clings to them no matter where they go, like a ghost constantly reminding their owners they’re hand-me-downs. Weird combinations, too: there were trifolds over bandanas, pinstripe jackets over tye-dye shirts-all odd and mismatched as the abominations that wore them. An insect-looking one was even wearing a ‘shirt’ that was just a baseball cap with arm holes. And in the middle of all of them, at the other end of the table, was the biggest demon of all. I still remember him clear as day: all dark, no face, high as the ceiling with horns as tall as me. I reckoned he was the leader on account of him being the only one with decent clothes, though where he got suspenders and a white button down in his size I will never know. A pair of panama hats were skewered on each of his giant horns.

The demon leaned forward, his empty face mere inches from mine. His breath smelled like bologna.

“I. WIN!” He said, in a voice that surprised me with how human it sounded. I could even hear a tinge of an Australian accent in there.

Then I realized he wasn’t looking at me, but a pair of dice that were next to my head.

“Like shit you did.” Came a voice from the other side of the table. “It only landed that way ‘cause some punk landed on the forking table!”

Its’ source leaned in until his face was right over mine. If it weren’t for the fall knocking all the wind out of me, I would have squealed like a kid on Christmas Day. Towering right above me was the face of none other than one of the velociraptors from Jurassic Park, wearing a plastic green tennis visor. “By the way, you filthy piece of shiv!” he told me “You’re paying for these forking property damages!”

Some other stuff happened, though at the moment I was so caught up in my dinosaur obsession (and several broken bones) I barely noticed.

What I do remember is that apparently the big demon had gotten two sixes, which when combined with his previous two rolls, which were also sixes, which were rolled on the sixth day of the sixth hour of the sixth minute of the sixth second of the sixth Deci second of the sixth millisecond, meant that he had the Porcelain God’s favor and therefore the jackpot. The raptor (whose name turned out to be Shizzle) argued the last six was a three until some moron landed on the table, to which the demon pointed out that there were no official rules against somebody landing on the table, at least when you played by the Rules of Ifnir, which they were. Long story short, Shizzle took out a rulebook while the demon took away all the plastic chips, followed by a posse of lesser demons cheering “Leroy beat the house! Leroy built the house!” as they danced out of the casino.

Schizzle glared at me with a look that could cut glass.

“You rotten piece of shit! I have half the mind to slice you in half right here and now! Too bad for you I’m in a really bad mood, so I’m gonna pawn you off on A-Hole!”

As he dragged me off the table (surprisingly strong given how thin he was) I saw he was wearing an armband and a vest clearly not meant for a dinosaur. We headed through rows and rows of demons playing with bright lights and slot machines, all covered by a lair of smoke.

We stopped in a room that reminded me way too much of a dentist’s office, except instead of a reception desk there was a door with a plaque that read ‘A-hole’ and the television played nothing but Fox News. Shizzle sat me down in one of the chairs and tied me to it using some string from his vest.

“Alright punk. I know what you’re thinking: that because it’s your first day in the underworld, everything is gonna go easy for you. But guess what, shivhead! Life ain’t that simple. Down here, if you scratch somebody, you best be prepared to get scratched hard. And A-hole? He scratches harder than anybody! See this?”

Shizzle turned around, revealing a tattoo of a piece of poop on his tushie, complete with flies and stink marks. I know it doesn’t sound that great the way I’m saying it, but it was like, Da Vinci level artistry. Below it, in cursive almost too fancy to read, was written ‘I am a doo-doo head’.

“That’s from when I forgot to flush. Doesn’t matter if you’re new, doesn’t matter if using a toilet is hard when you have a long-asp tail, A-hole doesn’t give. A. Crap. And not just ‘cause he’s constipated!”

I tried best I could to shake out of my chair, but it was no good. For someone without opposable thumbs, Shizzle had locked me up tight.

Without another word, he went out back into the casino, leaving me along with the roaring voices on Fox News. I struggled against my ropes, eager to escape, until the noise of the television hypnotized me. The weird thing is, I didn’t understand half the things they were saying, though I will say this: I understood it more than my Dad did, and if I squinted my eyes at the right angle the guys onscreen turned into monkeys. Also like with my Dad, someone came to take me away just as the exciting part was happening. (They were about to discuss red paint’s communist agenda). That someone was another raptor, a bit more feathery than Schizzle, but with a floral dress from a 60’s fashion magazine paired with an equally gaudy pair of high heels that I’m still not entirely sure how she got into. A chill went down my spine as I saw the blood flowing down her mouth, at least until I realized it was just poorly applied lipstick.

“Good afternoon, dearie. Welcome to A-hole’s. My name is Hoe, and I’ll be taking you to our main office, where you’ll receive the ultimate punishment shortly.”

Back in school, there was this one kid named Don Beasly who’d sometimes imitate girls’ voices for fun. This lady (at least, I thought she was a lady) sounded just like him. Lifting my chair, she took me into the office, which smelled of dead, even by afterlife standards. It looked dead, too, with the grey walls so shot through with bullet holes it’d look like it would come crumbling down any minute. Not exactly the kind of room I’d want to spend more than a minute in if I’d had the choice. Which of course I didn’t. There was a back window, but it was gated over and blurred by something that looked like mucous. And in front of this window, under his own personal yellow spotlight, was the most mature raptor I’d ever seen. I could tell he was mature because he held a cigar in one hand and a jar of prunes in the other. A tiny handlebar mustache was glued to his face.

“So you’re the asp who lost my money, huh? Landed on the craps table?”

Before I could talk, he added

“Of course I’m right, dumbasp. That was a rhetorical question. But now, onto the real questions: Do you know who I am?”

“A… a velociraptor?”

A-Hole’s cigarette dropped to the table, where it caught a bunch of papers on fire. He looked at me with what can only be described as a death glare, the light from the fire casting shadows under his scaly face.

“What did you just say?”

“V-velociraptor?”

He slammed his claws on the desk, breathing so heavy I could feel it from ten feet away. He just stood there, staring and breathing for several minutes, then he was calm. Too calm, actually.

“You know pal, I was thinking off letting ya off the hook, see? Sure, you cost us over a million Hellbucks in property damage alone, but I’m a nice guy, see? But please-“

He walked right up to me, putting a claw under my chin just enough to draw a trickle of blood.

“Nobody ever, ever compares me and my crew me to one of those dirty, lecherous Velossis, see?”

He returned to his desk; clapped his claws.

“F-Bomb!” he called to nowhere in particular “Give our guest a taste of the usual.” The way he said the last part nearly made my toenails fall off.

Another ra- I mean, Deinonychus, burst in from the door behind us. At first I didn’t think much of him, since he looked more like a fuzzy chicken than the others, and was about the size of one, too. But if I’ve learned one thing about dinosaurs in my journeys through the Underworld, it’s that if the dino is wearing an eyepatch and a fedora, he usually means business. Or tastes good served with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy. If it weren’t for his small size, he would have been intimidating, though the folding table and covered serving platter he carried made him give off more of a waiter vibe.

“Listen the fork up, forkface!” he screeched, setting up the table “The forkin’ name’s motherforkin’ F-Bomb, and I was having a forkin’ good time until you done forked it up with your forkin’ little scene on the forkin’ craps table!”

Now, I had no idea what the hey was on that serving platter, but if the smell coming from it was any indignation, I did not want to find out. Fortunately, even with my limbs tied up, yours truly still has one trick left up his sleeves. It was a gamble, since there was no gurantee it would work on dinosaurs, but at that moment there was nothing else to lose (well, except my dignity).

At first, F-bomb stared at me, clearly baffled by what I was doing. Then he got angry. “What the fork are you doin’ with your forkin’ eyes, you forkin’ punk?! Sweet Porcelain Forkin’ God, they look like forkin’ watermelons! Is this some kinda forkin’ trap?!! Are those forkin bombs? BOSS!! I think this guy has forkin’ bombs in his eyes!!!!!!!!!”

A-Hole was reclining in his chair, clawed feet on the desk, head blocked by a catalogue of L.L. Bean’s winter clothing catalogue (which I later learned was the official catalogue of Hell).

“F-Bomb, ya retarded turd! That’s what the overlanders call a ‘puppy dog face’. Dumb as shiv kids use it ta make their parents inta personal slaves or somethin’. Now would you kindly leave me the fork alone?! I just got to this real engrossing part about the importance of fashionable snow boots, see!”

Though I couldn’t see myself, I know by F-Bomb’s widening grin that it had melted into the look of despair. Especially after F-Bomb scratched me in the face.

“So that’s it, ya forkin’ punk?! You thing you can forkin’ screw with me?! What the actual forkity fork!” He hopped on the table, walking up to me until my nose touched his. “Now get ready to be forkin’ served.” His breath smelled just like I imagined raw meat would.

Stepping back, he lifted the lid of the platter, releasing a foul smelling mist that practically made me gag. When it cleared, I saw the platter had a tiny silver fork, and next to that fork was what I like to call ‘the tree of death’: a vile creation, one that since I was a kid had always stood between me and glorious, glorious dessert, whose tyranny I had sought to escape again and again, but could never escape. It was only fitting that here, in the depths of Hell, it would find me again.

“Now before ya ask, yes, I forkin’ know this is forkin’ broccoli, ya forkin’ genius. But this ain’t your forkin’ retarded fork of a Grandma’s forkin’ broccoli.” He pointed to a little halo that mysteriously hung over the little floret. As he did, I swore I could hear an angelic chorus in the distance. “This is forkin’ holy broccoli, watered with only the purest forkin’ holy water and the son’s forkin’ pee, fertilized in the soil of forkin’ Eden, and grown in the light of the forkin’ Lord himself. The level of vitamin forkin’ K in this forkin’ thing is too good for this sinful world. And when it gets in your forkin’ belly, the rapid influx of vitamins will slowly poison you before making your forkin’ head explode!”

I shook me chair, but it was no good. I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Nice forkin’ try, buster!” he taunted, bringing the flower of death closer to my mouth “But there’s no forkin’ way the forkin’ Lord is gonna come for you now!”

           Now it was my turn to smile. Back at home, I’d watched a lot of movies, and if there was one thing those movies taught me, it’s that whenever a bad guy says something like that when the good guy is in a bad spot they can’t possibly get out of, the direct- I mean, God- swoops in to give them a free pass. And considering I’m telling you this story right now, I’m pretty sure you can put two and two together.

While I was fidgeting, a small piece of paper had fallen out of my pocket. F-Bomb noticed, too.

“What the f-“

Just like that, A-Hole dropped his magazine and sniffed the air.

“Hold it, F-Bomb, I smell somethin’, somethin’ like… money.”

“Boss, it’s probably just a piece of forkin’ paper now could I please get on with-“

But A-Hole wasn’t having any of it. He put his nose to the ground and sniffed like a bloodhound until he found the piece of paper. He held it up in his claw with a delicacy I didn’t expect from a deinonychus, as though he were holding the most valuable diamond in the world. The moment I saw its’ yellowed paper, I recognized it instantly: a $500 dollar bill from Monopoly bill.

“Where’d you get this?” he asked

I took a breath, relieved my death by nutritious flower had been delayed.

“He, ya turd, I’m talkin’ to you!” he cried, slapping me on the side of the face “Where’d. You. Get. This?”

For a second my brain was in a trance. Back at home, I’d always been the dumb one, the one who everyone  except Mom thought was either gonna grow up to be either a dirty hobo or a shameless reality T.V. star. Possibly both. My mind reeled at having someone around who was actually dumber than me. And as I mentioned before, I’m also a Tostig, and if there’s one thing we Tostigs are good at, it’s seizing opportunities by the freakin’ horns!

“Real estate.” There it was, the ultimate blend of truth and lie, or as I like to call it, a tie.

“Sweet Porcelain God, kid! No wonder you- wait a minute! How do I know you ain’t fibbin’?”

F-Bomb, during this whole scene, was sharpening his claws with a nail file. “Maybe forkin’ ask what kind of bill it is, then!”

“Yeah, turdy! What bill is this?”

It was that moment I realized I should have had a backup plan. Not sure what I would have come up with, but it still would have been better than

“It’s a commemorative $500 dollar bill from the failed Philadelphia sesquicentennial exposition of 1926! Very rare! Almost none exist!”

I smiled, hoping they’d buy it like I would have bought Park Place.

Ten tense seconds passed as A-Hole sniffed the bill in places no piece of American currency should ever be sniffed.

“Alright, turd.” He said, holding up the bill. “Lucky for you, I happen to be a collector of all sorts a rare currencies, see? And I don’t know a single person in the Underworld who knows about this bill. So let’s make a deal, see?” He leaned in close, so close I worried he might chomp off my ear. His breath smelled like he hadn’t brushed since the late cretaceous, but in a deliberate way, like he was using some kind of prehistoric perfume.

“I’ll let you off the hook, see? All you gotta do is be a member of my gang for the rest of eternity. I’ll even give ya room and board free of charge, see? So whaddya say? We solid?”

I thought about my parents, still in the land of the living, waiting for me to come home from camp. Then I realized that, knowing Dad, he was probably using my action figures to open his beer bottles. And if my little brother had anything to say about it, they wouldn’t even notice I was gone. As much as I wanted to get home, I’d done goofed and crossed Shel Silverstein. It would take a while, but seeing as I was in hell, there was no harm in joining a gang for a little while, right?

“Sure, why not?”

A-Hole grinned, which was pretty creepy when you realized he didn’t have any lips. “Glad we could do business, kid.” He glared at F-Bomb and me. “But if either of you so much as say the letters of any of the words relating to this piece of moolah, there’ll be Hell to pay!”

“But Boss!” protested F-Bomb “We already live in forkin’-“

“I know what I said, dipschizzle! Sweet Porcelain God, do you realize how forkin’ hard it is to come up with good threats in this dump?! Everyone’s seen it all!”

A-Hole returned to his desk, taking in several breathfuls of smoke clogged air. Once he was calm again, he snapped his claws.

“Anyway, now let’s forkin’ do this. F-Bomb, get the knockout gas! We’re doing some reconstructive surgery!”

“Wait, wha-“

I didn’t even have time to finish before F-Bomb put what I can only describe as a satanic lobster dripping with some sort of liquid over my mouth. As I got woozy, I wondered if there was any type of insurance for falling unconscious, and if so, where I could get it.