#hell!verse

When Butch sets his sights on the ‘kitty’, he’s surprised to find that it’s double the size of a normal feline—if he could even call it that. It had features that made him question if it was feline at all, though its actions say otherwise.

Still, despite it being quite larger than he’s equipped to handle, he still gestures for it as if it will understand, getting a little bit closer in time for it to see him… and curtly whip him in the face before descending the tree.

Butch flinches and when he shifts, he feels a crack beneath him. Oh shit. Before he has time to scramble to another branch, it snaps under his weight, causing him to fall and unfortunately, he hits every branch on the way down before landing flat on his face. Comically, that’s when his wings decide to deploy, puffing out of his back like a parachute before fluttering to the ground at his sides with a deflated flap.

Her lips are as red as blood and her eyeliner a perfect cat line.

She's tiny. Oh so tiny, and Sam, strong and tall as an oak tree sinks to his knees. Helps her out of her stilettos. She smells of roses and patchouli.

And she smells of power.

"I hope he will serve you well, Your Highness", Dean says. Eyes a black abyss.

Sam kisses her feet. He's made to serve.

"Aye, he's perfect. Leave us now. I have work to do."

Butch takes another large gulp out of his glass mug of Rye, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve afterwards. He had been stewing in his own misery since entering hell, the bars strangers stories being his only escape. He was given a second chance and he had fumbled it. It was like being trapped in that book all over again…

The cowboy is silent for a long moment, eyes focused on the pattern of the wood that made up the bar before him as he listens to her words. She was awfully wise for a crocodile-like demon thing…

“S’hard to want to begin again, y’know? Heh. I’ve done it once already an’ this is where it put me. Now I’ll never see Darlene again…” His grimace dissolves into a frown but before he can get too down in the dumps, he glances over at her.

"Excuse me! Hey, I'm really sorry to ask, but can you please help me get my kitty down from that tree? He's really high up and I can't climb cuz I don't have legs!"

// @nebula-gaster

Since he was stuck in Hell with no hope of returning, all he could really do is embrace what was now his home. He still didn’t know too much about it and little by little he felt his own being shifting into a form that actually blended in with the creatures and imps of this world.

Large horns protrude from his signature hat now and curl around his head, similar to how a bulls might. His skin is tinted a fair shade of red and those golden teeth of his jut from the corners of his lips to a point, as if they had grown into fangs.

Butch had been out to settle an old score that day with a fella he had known in the mortal realm at some point back in his time. They had agreed to meet in the town courtyard, but he’s stopped somewhere along the way by a frantic stranger. He looks from them and up to the tree before adjusting his hat some.

“Y’caught me at a bad time, friend—“ He says though a pang of guilt squeezes in his chest soon after, making him feel as though he has no choice. Damn it!

“…but I can spare a few seconds fer yer lil’ pal, I s’pose.” Poor dumb little kitty.

He wasn’t about to embarrass himself by trying to fly with the wings he’d retracted into his back since they had fully formed. He hadn’t proper practice with them just yet and they shredded his clothes every time. So instead, he approaches the tree and and digs his claws into the charred bark, hoisting himself upwards—his legs wrap around the tree and he shimmies his way up into the deep of its branches, looking around. There he sees the cat hunched near the base of the tree, perched on a branch with its eyes fixed on a small hole as if awaiting something to come out.

@perfectdespair

“I can’t believe it!”  Lindsey fumed after he’d woken up in the Wolfram & Hart holding dimension. Now he was pacing, running a track into the commercial carpet as he paced, shouting at whoever he knew was watching.  “Angel sent Mr. Green Jeans to kill me? That’s not how it was supposed to end!”

“Nothing's ended, Lindsey,” Holland said as he turned in his desk chair to face his protege.  He steepled his fingers,  “Well, not really, anyway.  That’s where these contracts come in rather handy.”

Pausing mid-step, Lindsey looked at Holland, “I’m not going to end up like Lilah.  I can’t be some liaison flunky anymore.  I made my decision.”

“You’ve always been a little too hot-headed for your own good.”  Holland said with a fatherly smile.  “Well, if you’ve made the decision not to be a liaison, then you’ve got another decision to make.  Let me lay out your options. What is it you want to do?”

“Want to see Angel suffer.”

“One track mind, well maybe we can send you to someone who knows Angel better than anyone. I think you’ll like her, you two did hit it off before, well....” he gestured toward the bite at his throat.  “ We’ll be in touch with details. Give Darla my regards, won’t you?”

One would think there are only demons and souls in hell, but there are a number of other equally unpleasant dwellers in those dark corners. Dark creatures and pagan gods make their home on the fringes as well, though the main and most important bulk of the populace can be classified into three groups.

Fallen: These are the angels that followed Lucifer into the fires. They comprise the top and most important ranking in all of hell, more powerful than any in the realm. The seven princes make up the top tier(hand picked by Lucifer) followed by the Dukes, Knights, Keepers, Warlords, Captains and Generals. All Fallen can speak any and all tongues spoken in hell, though Enochian is careful to only be shared among themselves and never taught to others.

Demons: Demons are the once-human souls, twisted and corrupted to mirror Hell's might and remain loyal to the realm. Depending on how well they prove themselves they range from the smallest errand-taker all the way up to the possibility of being a General if they remain steadfast in their loyalty.

Many who are not apprenticed under another of high rank are separated into factions under the Commanders or Generals and work for the benefit of their assigned faction. [Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, Sloth, Chaos, Temptation, Deceit] Alternatively, if a Fallen or Demon of higher ranking finds one worth the effort they may claim the lower as a prize, in which case the chosen demon is to remain loyal to their new master and do what they are bid.

Eyes are white, black, red or yellow depending on rank. Demons speak their native tongue on Earth or Hellspeak, the native tongue of Hell.

Daemons: Though often casually referred to as Hellions (Actually a term for whoever lives in hell) Daemons are minions produced specifically to serve whichever faction created them. They were never human souls, and it is debatable whether they even posses one, as souls are generally reserved for humans.

Appearances differ, though all have pointed, poison-tipped fangs and claws. Some have horns, others leathery wings, hooves, clawed feet, scales, spikes or tails. Minions(Daemons) have only the capability of conversing in Hellspeak, and it is rare they have enough self-awareness to even bother wondering at any other language. 

As they are created for the sole purpose of serving their master they have no physical needs, and therefore no systems in need of care. While Fallen and Demons wear clothing Daemons do not, as they have nothing to cover. No reproductive organs or genitals of any kind. Not surprisingly, there are no males or females in either case, and one cannot tell one from the other other than if they told you. Unlike humans Daemons do not have a preference as to which, and asking would only garner confusion. Many do not bother going so far as to question.

(There are minor personality traits that can be witnessed on the rare occurrence they are bid some free time, however those events are usually spent by them going out and taking enjoyment in malicious intent rather than anything else, and that kind of behavior is not likely to give any clues.)

Daemons are used for the smallest, most minor labor in Hell. Polishing, cleaning, cooking if necessary, sharpening blades or serving drinks if black-eyed demons aren't available. Their small stature is ideal for these tasks, they move swiftly (In a scurrying nature) and often without sound. (if they do not have hooves)