Also finally getting back into dbd (gotta help get that muse going again somehow and need to get updated on things for the rework after all) and now I find out Demo’s lost out on the Laboratory and Shelter Woods as territory? This is an utter travesty and I demand it be fixed.
So uh. I realize it's been months since I've been active here, and for that I do apologize. I'm going to try to get Demo here back into a semi-active state at the very least and attempt to fix up a few things about the blog itself.
However, I am going to take the opportunity to do a slight reboot/rework — mainly in regards to Demo's telepathic abilities and how it uses them but there's a chance other aspects might get altered as well.
That being said, if you have any characters that have some interaction or previously established relationship with Demo, please let me know if you'd like to reset anything in that regard. I'll be reaching out individually as well once I get things fixed up.
The Demogorgon isn't particularly pleased with the change from Once-Prey to fellow Hunters. It especially doesn't like the oppressive heat from the red one, and the now-eyeless is too rage-pain-hunt-blind to be anything better than frustrating. The jingling of his bells, too, only remind the beast of its own chains. But the pink one...
It's not often the creature decides to approach others without the intent to harm. But it's curious to see if this new Hunter will be as much a problem as his kin.
Ah the demogorgon… Not on Fancy’s top list of most hated killers, but definitely one he always had a knack for struggling against. He couldn’t count the number of times he had cornered himself trying to run from the thing. Why it was always the demo? No idea. Just bad luck against this killer specifically apparently.
Now he stood there killer to killer, far enough apart that he didn’t feel in immediate danger. The beast didn’t seem aggressive, but it was hard to tell. Fancy braced himself just in case. He’s had enough run ins with other killers by now that he really didn’t know what to expect.
He also didn’t know how beast like the creature was. Past trials would suggest it was feral, but it’s lack of aggression right now made Fancy unsure. He doubted it could understand him but you’re supposed to talk to calm down animals right? He thought he remembered hearing that somewhere.
“Uhm… Hi? Demogorgon, nice doggy- sorry, that’s stupid. Uhm, i-it’s okay” He held out his hands in a non threatening manner “I’m, uh, not going to hurt you. I’m just passing through.” He said as calmly as he could. trying to side step around and away from the thing.
They were in one of the between-world forests that didn’t really house anything. He had been working on getting back to his realm.
When the smaller Hunter makes no move towards hostility, nor to outright flee, the creature admittedly finds itself surprised. It’s only a mild sentiment however, and one that hardly lasts. His unease is obvious. Perhaps, had the approach been different, or made in his territory, his reaction would’ve been stronger. Yet even this tells a fair amount.
The creature seemed to consider the direction Fancy was attempting to head in and even stepped aside. “Oh.. Uhm, thankyou?” maybe it was more sentient than Fancy had thought.
Being thanked is among the last things the Demogorgon expects. Its head again tilts, perplexed now, as it tries to process the expression of gratitude given when it’s hardly done anything more than take a step back. Though perhaps that does make some sense. There’s a reason the beast isn’t exactly known for being anything less than hostile, let alone… “Considerate”. It imagines a Once-Prey knows that all too well.
Or perhaps the pink one is just strange.
It doesn’t stifle the huff this time. Nor does it make any attempt to hold back the gurgle that follows, sounding almost suspiciously wry in tone. The human isn’t exactly doing himself many favors with his poor choice of words. His fumbling is somewhat amusing however, and the creature will acknowledge he’s at least wise enough to keep from turning his back to it — even if, for the moment, it doesn’t truly pose a threat.
Clearly, neither does the smaller Hunter. Unlike his ilk, he doesn’t appear to be aggressive or unstable. A little foolish, and a little odd, yes, but hardly a concern. And so the beast regards him a little longer. Eventually it offers a vague rumble, only to turn away itself, seemingly satisfied.
To be certain, the creature is still curious. It’s never known Prey to become Hunter before — not here — and the notion of a new Realm to explore is tempting. But it’s learned what it needed to. The rest can be saved for another time.
Besides… the pink one has yet to truly earn any animosity, and the Demogorgon is feeling a little more generous than usual. It can let this one have some peace of mind.
In its wanderings, and across countless Trials, many places in the Fog have become familiar to the beast. This place is decidedly not one of them. And so, cautious, it sets a portal among the trees before creeping forward and into the depths.
Claws tap faintly on the stairs, though the creature is otherwise silent. Curious though it is, it knows enough of the Entity and the others who dwell within the Fog to be on edge.
The scent of blood reaches it halfway down. Makes it pause. It cannot tell if the stench is old or new, and the smell of the candles hardly helps.
Still, monstrous form continues on. The bloodscent grows stronger, fresher, with each step, and the beast wonders if perhaps it might be returning to its den with a fresh meal.
Then it reaches the bottom and halts in its tracks. A recognizable figure before it. It knows this infuriating human all too well from the Trials before his Change. The situation he’s in, however, is familiar to the beast on an entirely different level.
Claws scrape and dig into stone as grip tightens on the last step.
Elf had heard the soft pattering of feet coming down the stairs. He had been practicing not attacking on sight lately. The unfamiliar foot falls and pattern didn’t make him confident he would be able to hold off, he potentially didn’t want to anyway.
The beast finds itself in a strange and wholly undesirable predicament.
The chains and this cell aren't intended for it — wouldn't have even been able to hold it if they were, and already bind another regardless — and yet a strange muted panic creeps and crawls and begins to writhe beneath its skin. Familiar weight of phantom shackles seize limb and stifle thought.
It shouldn't be here.
Go. It needs to go.
It can't. It can’t move.
Chains jangle and the creature cringes.
It needs to leave, needs to —
Break the chains break the humans get out get out getout —
It can't. It can't move. The metal is too tight, too heavy, and its body is a mass of exhaustion and —
Pain. Pain, real and sharp, drags the beast back to the present. It looks down to where it grips the stair so tightly one of its claws has cracked and split against now-bloodied stone and the rest of the digits ache from the sheer pressure. Each breath makes its sides heave. Collecting itself is a struggle, and it feels as if it takes far too long to ease its hold and return its focus to the chamber’s true occupant.
This is not the creature’s cell. Those are not its chains. It isn’t bound and helpless anymore. It can leave. And yet...
Though its hold had loosened, it still has to pry its own hands from where they’ve scored the step to descend that last bit into the room proper though it doesn’t approach further. Every motion is stiff and stilted, muscles far too tense to allow for much else.
And it waits, for a moment. Gauges how the other Hunter responds to even this small intrusion.
Then, tentatively, it Reaches. The faintest brush of mind against mind, a feather’s whispering graze. Careful. Cautious.
The Demogorgon isn't particularly pleased with the change from Once-Prey to fellow Hunters. It especially doesn't like the oppressive heat from the red one, and the now-eyeless is too rage-pain-hunt-blind to be anything better than frustrating. The jingling of his bells, too, only remind the beast of its own chains. But the pink one...
It's not often the creature decides to approach others without the intent to harm. But it's curious to see if this new Hunter will be as much a problem as his kin.
Ah the demogorgon... Not on Fancy's top list of most hated killers, but definitely one he always had a knack for struggling against. He couldn't count the number of times he had cornered himself trying to run from the thing. Why it was always the demo? No idea. Just bad luck against this killer specifically apparently.
Now he stood there killer to killer, far enough apart that he didn't feel in immediate danger. The beast didn't seem aggressive, but it was hard to tell. Fancy braced himself just in case. He's had enough run ins with other killers by now that he really didn't know what to expect.
He also didn't know how beast like the creature was. Past trials would suggest it was feral, but it's lack of aggression right now made Fancy unsure. He doubted it could understand him but you're supposed to talk to calm down animals right? He thought he remembered hearing that somewhere.
"Uhm... Hi? Demogorgon, nice doggy- sorry, that's stupid. Uhm, i-it's okay" He held out his hands in a non threatening manner "I'm, uh, not going to hurt you. I'm just passing through." He said as calmly as he could. trying to side step around and away from the thing.
They were in one of the between-world forests that didn't really house anything. He had been working on getting back to his realm.
When the smaller Hunter makes no move towards hostility, nor to outright flee, the creature admittedly finds itself surprised. It's only a mild sentiment however, and one that hardly lasts. His unease is obvious. Perhaps, had the approach been different, or made in his territory, his reaction would've been stronger. Yet even this tells a fair amount.
And then the pink one speaks.
Even now the beast doesn't understand why "Demogorgon" had become its title. Before the Entity it had never once that phrase used even by its captors. It's not a moniker it minds though, and is one it's come to accept.
To be called "doggy", on the other hand. . .
This pink human is either incredibly lucky or incredibly wise to have so quickly chastised himself before the creature can react beyond a twitch of claws and mouthparts automatically shifting in displeasure. Had there been any hesitation before his backtracking, the Demogorgon would've held no qualms with reminding the Once-Prey that it was no docile pet.
As things stand, however, it allows itself to ease as the smaller Hunter continues to speak and gesture — though it quite nearly huffs at the attempt at peace and placation, even as it takes note of the endeavor to evade.
The creature briefly looks to where its present "company" is seemingly headed. Head tilts. A vague, harmless burble leaks out as it considers, and then attention returns to the human so clearly uneasy with its presence.
Perhaps it could humor him. A little.
Monstrous figure steps aside to grant both distance and an easier path. Clearly, however, it has no intention to simply leave. The pink one is proving strangely tolerable so far, and the beast is still curious — both about the change to the Once-Prey, and wherever it is he's going. So long as a Trial bars it from its nest, it sees little reason not to indulge in this for the moment.
In its wanderings, and across countless Trials, many places in the Fog have become familiar to the beast. This place is decidedly not one of them. And so, cautious, it sets a portal among the trees before creeping forward and into the depths.
Claws tap faintly on the stairs, though the creature is otherwise silent. Curious though it is, it knows enough of the Entity and the others who dwell within the Fog to be on edge.
The scent of blood reaches it halfway down. Makes it pause. It cannot tell if the stench is old or new, and the smell of the candles hardly helps.
Still, monstrous form continues on. The bloodscent grows stronger, fresher, with each step, and the beast wonders if perhaps it might be returning to its den with a fresh meal.
Then it reaches the bottom and halts in its tracks. A recognizable figure before it. It knows this infuriating human all too well from the Trials before his Change. The situation he's in, however, is familiar to the beast on an entirely different level.
Claws scrape and dig into stone as grip tightens on the last step.
[ 😱 ] does your muse have any specific fears? where did those fears come from?
To some degree, Demo’s fears are verse-dependent. In any version of the Aftermath verse, it has an incredibly intense fear of being restrained and/or trapped, especially in smaller, more confined spaces. Note that this doesn’t mean it has a fear of such spaces themselves (though it is notably less comfortable with them following its capture and subsequent escape, especially if they’re at all similar to where it was kept). Also related to its time in captivity is an exceptionally strong aversion to being touched, knives, and surgical equipment.
For a fear that exists in basically every verse, the answer is simply fire. Though perhaps higher temperatures or extreme heat in general may also tie into that to some degree. This is due to heat and fire being among the few things that can truly harm Demo and its species, with burn wounds in particular being much harder to recover from than almost any other sort of injury. If the burns are severe enough, it’s entirely possible that the damage would in fact be permanent.
—
[ 💛 ] how empathetic is your muse? how compassionate are they? is this something people expect from them, or are people surprised when they find out how compassionate or empathetic they actually are?
If Demo forms a positive relationship with someone, yes, it can be incredibly compassionate. At the very least, it’ll try. As far as how empathetic Demo is, it’s a similar case. Despite Demo’s Psychic Bullshit abilities, however, it doesn’t always understand enough to fully achieve empathy, but rather sympathy. There is a chance these may apply with others outside of those who Demo has some sort of bond with, but that depends heavily on the circumstances.
The fact that Demo can be so caring does have a tendency to surprise people though.
The creature, at least, has the decency to duck its head, cowed and somehow managing to look sheepish at the reprimand despite the blood coating its figure. A strange, bleating whine, apologetic, and it steps away from the corpse despite temptation to feed.
It’s… Not quite sure what to do about the mention of “pay back”, though.
Lenses turned towards the others reaction, fully meaning it in light spirit // AND MAKING SURE LAUGH WAS TO FOLLOW TO GIVE AWAY SUCH. Gloved hand provided a pat on the shoulder of the other as he walked closer. “Kidding, of course. He was going to be dead within minutes anyways. HARDLY enough time to get any good information. Feasts all yours. However– -” Free hand, or rather wrist, contorted // OOZING BLACK MATTER SEEPING AND SPREADING. What glove was there was quickly consumed by a tendril now taking the place of lower arm (ONE WITH AN AIM TO THE OPEN CAVITY OF THE CORPSE). Digging, covering red in inky tones instead for a handful of seconds, before retracting. It was such a quick ordeal, but the various empty spots in the dead shown Chaos had claimed some organs into his own matter, which was now returning to normal. “This is a good opportunity to kind of refill my stock. I’ll need to find a baggy or something of the sort soon, though. Don’t want this things dissolving would be such a waste!” Paired with yet another of his laughs.
Laughter draws cranium to lift. Confusion beckons it to tilt to one side, mouth “petals” twitching. A vague gurgle seeps out. Had it misunderstood? Was the Other not upset? He’s difficult for the creature to read — provides no scent cues it can recognize, and uses vocal tones the beast has yet to grasp in conjunction with words it’s still learning to understand. Belatedly, now, it considers Reaching for clarification.
Chaos renders the need null. The body language in his approach is far clearer, even if the ensuing contact only serves to baffle the beast as head shifts and focus momentarily turns to the hand on its skin. But the touch isn’t at all unpleasant. Just... Odd. Not something it’s accustomed to.
Yet attention is quickly taken by more words — words it mostly knows by now, spoken in a tone more straightforward than the last, all tickled amusement and hummed satisfaction and grim-bright facts. Permission, too, granted, though opportunity put on hold as viscous umbral substance plunges into the carcass. The creature watches. Curious. Fascinated, almost. Then the display is over, commentary and laughter return, and the body is left as less.
Less, but a meal all the same.
The step taken back, now taken forward, though it makes no attempt to dislodge its companion’s touch from its shoulder, even as stance shifts and clawed digits settle upon a mutilated torso. Maw quivers, itching to flare and bury teeth into stilled flesh. But a question nags. Stays the feeding.
“Am. . . Confused,” admits the beast plainly. Its presence, slinking now along mental fringes, is kept subtle. Unintrusive. “Do not know these words. ‘Stock’ and ‘dissolving’ and ‘waste’. ‘Dissolving’ and ‘waste’ bad things?" It can only assume so, if Chaos doesn’t wish for them to happen, and this makes it wonder if there’s some reason it perhaps shouldn’t eat this body.
my fav trope is like, nonhuman characters not understanding human needs/customs but still being super supportive of their human companion
“look what I found while exploring this planet’s surface!” “kilrak please I’m trying to sleep” “ah yes your human circadian rhythm. *stage whispering* I am supposed to be quiet during this time in your rhythm, yes?”
“the book I purchased on ragnok V says humans require physical touch when upset. therefore, I shall engage in a ‘hug’ with you.” *supremely awkward five-armed hug ensues*
*human sneezes* “OH MY GOD SIL'EEN GET THE MEDIC OUR HUMAN IS DYING”
“this pamphlet I received recently says that humans require companions and packmates in the form of small earth creatures. you should have told me this before we departed earth, but it is no worry. we will have to stop at the next trade planet to get you one of these ‘cats’ or ‘dogs’.”
imagine the aliens really purchasing a kitten for one of their rough and world-weary scifi badass human companions and watching in helpless wonderment what ensues
“she’s been cuddling that small animal for the past fifteen minutes just going ‘kitty, kitty’. did we - did we break our human?”
a more seasoned alien puts one of their tentacles around the younger one as the rest of the team gathers to watch their human make kissy noises.
“Human-Steve! I have heard that today is the anniversary of your hatching! According to my human culture pamphlet, it is customary to set a sugary pastry on fire while chanting your species’ growth incantation and presenting sacrifices wrapped in shiny paper. I am afraid to ask, in case this ritual is sacred and this request therefor insensitive… but may I be allowed to participate? It sounds much more fascinating than molting.”
“Human Steve, I have read about your ritual dance called ‘The Hokey Pokey,’ performed mostly at mate-bonding celebrations after the guests reach an elevated level of intoxication. But Human Steve, how do I know WHICH left foot to put in, put out, and shake all about? I do not… Human Steve, why are you laughing?”
“Human-Steve, you are… you are eating, but it is not one of your ritual fueling times. Are you dying? Is everything alright? Have you not been receiving enough sustenance? Do I need to get you better things to eat? Human-Steve, why are you trying to hide that food?”
“Human-Steve, my research has informed me of a grave oversight in your care that I, as your companion, have made! Thus, I have gathered collections of fictional human literature to read aloud at the time of your bed. Which is more to your liking: “The Care and Keeping of Cacti” or “1001 Crossword Puzzles?” Human-Steve? Human-Steve, I am serious.“
One of the things I love the most about this post is how “Human-Steve” makes me think that there is also an alien called Steve in the squad, and I just imagine the first meeting and introduction where there is the human guy introducing himself as Steve and then there is this huge blue guy with like 5 legs and bug eyes and apparently Steve is like a completely regular name on his planet too in some intergalactical coincidence
When communicating through mental means, Demo has two primary methods of providing information. These methods will be referred to as “Projecting” and “Imposing”.
— Projecting: Akin to how humans share knowledge, be it through conversation or media, albeit with a little extra. Information is being shared, usually through the use of sensations or images, but there's generally enough of a disconnect that whoever's on the receiving end can tell that these thoughts/emotions/sensations/etc. are coming from another party.
— Imposing: Imposing takes things much further than Projecting. This is where Demo essentially overrides someone else's mind and senses to make them experience whatever it's experiencing, as if they were it and it was them, and in most cases it can become excruciatingly difficult if not impossible for the receiver to distinguish between what's coming from them vs what's coming from Demo. That being said, Demo can choose exactly what it Imposes, though some things can bleed through unintentionally.
Projecting and Imposing can both be done at the same time if Demo feels so inclined.
The creature, at least, has the decency to duck its head, cowed and somehow managing to look sheepish at the reprimand despite the blood coating its figure. A strange, bleating whine, apologetic, and it steps away from the corpse despite temptation to feed.
It’s... Not quite sure what to do about the mention of “pay back”, though.
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