Following his initial demise, Demongo has developed pretty bad anxiety related to crowds. He absolutely can't stand feeling surrounded and might even get a little panicky if he feels like too many people are getting too close
He's not used to being praised but if someone tells him "good job" he will be smiling for the rest of the day. He needs a lot of reassurance that he doesn't have to be godly powerful to be worthy of appreciation.
His body is naturally warmer than a humans, it has an almost internal flame. It's not going to burn whoever touches him, it's more like the outside of a lava lamp or something like that. His fire gives off actual warmth and you could theoretically cook something over his head...assuming he'd actually let you 😂
He's got a sort of storage place for souls that shields his innards, and this part is basically a sort of pocket dimension, so he can survive injuries to the torso that would kill most other things. You could legit stab him in the chest and it'd only really hurt skin and like the top layer of muscle before it hit the soul storage and wouldn't be able to reach the organs on the other side.
His fangs are actually venomous and his venom is basically just highly corrosive, reducing a victim to their bones. He can steal souls in the process of eroding their bodies to the bone and keeping part of their remains allows him to bring them back for a while to serve him. He also just likes collecting skulls, but they do serve a purpose beyond that. However if he so chooses he can also just straight up consume a soul and he usually does this to heal himself. If he consumes a soul it's gone, he won't be able to call on that soul in battle. So he tends to only do that when absolutely necessary, otherwise he just feeds off the essence of the soul, which is more or less to the soul as blood is to the body.
Blood actually contains very small amounts of essence, so if desperate he can go full vampire and feed on blood. Feeding directly off the soul is more efficient, though, so he prefers that. He's also capable of eating normal food, but he doesn't gain any power from that.
One-shot whump/hurt-comfort fic of a small AU for my selfship with Demongo
You ever wanted to show up just in time to save your f/o from their canonical death?
Characters: Rose (s/i), Demongo (Samurai Jack)
This piece contains somewhat graphic content.
Word count: 3,368
He’d been gone for several days, now. I knew he’d been sent out after the Samurai. He seemed confident that he’d be back before the end of the day. The night came and went, and he hadn’t returned. There was no sign that he’d even visited by the morning.
I left a few hours after I woke the next morning, a pit of dread in my stomach. I didn’t know where to look at first, so I decided I’d look into wherever the Samurai had most recently been spotted. Rumors spoke of a canyon out west, so I took off in that direction.
When I went out to look for him, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe he’d be fine, maybe I’d find him wounded, maybe I’d find him dead. Maybe I wouldn’t find him at all. He’d always thought of himself as invincible, but...I knew better. Before he left, I tried to convince him to stop being so arrogant and reckless. It hadn’t gone well. Now, I dread being right.
When I reach the canyon, I leave my vehicle to search on foot. By this point, the sun has already dipped below the horizon. It’s been hours. I’m only still going out of desperation. It’s starting to get cold. I pull my clothes closer to my body for warmth, and call out his name. It echoes off the canyon walls to no response. Still, I keep calling. He has to be out here somewhere...he just has to be.
I pass by scraps of white fabric on the ground. Now the rumors of the Samurai having been through this canyon seem truthful. They also appear to have been torn off during a fight. I must be near by now.
It’s getting darker and I’m losing my field of vision. I reach into my bag and retrieve a flashlight, shining it around the walls of the canyon. I call out for him again. There is still no response, but this time my flashlight’s beam reveals a splash of bright blue. With dread, I realize that this is Demongo’s blood, staining the ground. I quicken my pace and follow the trail, beginning to despair internally over just how much of it has been spilled. He’s almost never wounded in battles. This doesn’t bode well.
My flashlight shines onto a jet black hand with long, pointed fingers. Moments later, the light reveals a stick-thin silhouette sprawled out on the ground, lying in a wide pool of bright blue blood. My breath catches in my throat and I race towards the body. I kneel down beside him, frantically looking over his body. He’s completely covered in slashes and punctures from many bladed weapons, a few of his joints are bent at unnatural angles, and his right arm is badly broken at the elbow, blue-stained bone jutting out from torn shadowy flesh.
There’s no chance he’s alive, but...I have to try! I can’t just leave him like this, I can’t give up hope! Desperate for any sign of life, I place two fingers upon his slender neck. He’s so skinny that I should have been able to feel his pulse immediately upon contact, but to my despair, there’s nothing beneath the skin. He’s cold to the touch as well, not at all the vibrant warmth from an internal flame that I’m used to. Still, desperate, I press my ear against his bloodied chest, but there is nothing but the sound of my own harsh breathing as I try to stifle my tears.
He’s definitely gone. Anyone could see that. But I don’t care! If I don’t try, I’ll never forgive myself! I wipe at my tears with the back of my hand and pry open his mouth. My sweat-slicked hand slips and I feel a sharp scratch as one of my fingertips scrapes against his fang. I pay no mind to the pain and press my lips against his, gently blowing in one short breath. I then pull back and cross my hands over his sternum. Before I can start compressions, I feel a weak sort of fluttering beneath my palms. A small yet sharp, desperate gasp reaches my ear and it turns my spark of hope into a flame. I don’t know how a single breath revived him, but I’m not about to question the return of my beloved.
Demongo squeezes his eyes shut tighter and grimaces, his bloodied chest heaves as he tries to breathe. His fingers twitch and claw weakly at the ground.
I lean down towards him and carefully slip my hand beneath his head, then slip another under his back, and gently lift him to a more upright position. He whines in pain as I move him, and tries to move away, though all he can manage to move is his neck. Looking down, I realize that his countless wounds have started to bleed again. He starts to cry, tears rolling down his bloodied face and his chest and shoulders heaving with sobs in between his desperate gasps.
He doesn’t see me. He must be remembering whatever happened to him, thinking he’s still surrounded and that I’m going to hurt him even more. I gently take a hold of his face and wipe away a tear. “It’s me...” I say to him softly. “It’s me, Demongo...it’s Rose. I’m taking you home.”
His eyelids flutter for a moment, and then open just enough. His eyes are unfocused at first, but then there’s a glimmer of recognition. “Rose...?” he gasps out. In the next moment, he falls forward onto me, limp as a corpse. Before I can fully dread the worst, I hear his harsh, shallow breaths in my ear. “Please...do something...” He’s wheezing, and suddenly, he convulses and cries out in agony. “IT HURTS!”
Pity pierces my heart. I gently rest a hand on the small of his back and hush him softly, trying to calm him. Looking at my other hand, I notice a bead of blood drop from one fingertip. “...Demongo? I cut myself on your fang...and then you woke up.” I begin to think it over. “Would...would more of my blood help you heal?”
He doesn’t respond, but I move him back towards the ground and offer up my bleeding finger anyway. He gives it one weak half-hearted lick, then the taste seems to entice him, and he begins lapping the blood away eagerly. It’s such a small little cut, but it continues to bleed for as long as he continues licking. I wonder to myself if his saliva has some kind of anticoagulant in it, akin to a vampire bat’s. Slowly, some of his worst wounds glow a soft blue and begin to close up. The process seems to cause him some pain, because he whines softly and grimaces. Looking down, I notice the flesh of the badly broken arm is knitting itself back together over the broken bone. I react quickly and straighten the arm, working the bone back into a more proper position so it doesn’t heal wrong. Demongo screeches at my attempt to set the limb, but when the flesh closes over it, it seems to have done the trick. Pressing as gently as I can while still getting information, I feel that the bone’s still broken, but at least now it’s actually inside his body, where it belongs.
A moment later, he stops lapping up the blood and turns his head away. “Enough...I hate taking essence from you...I don’t want to hurt you...” he whines, his voice at last sounding a little stronger. His breathing has evened as well, though he still seems to be in quite a lot of pain. “Take me...home...”
I slowly pull him closer to my chest, and stand up. He’s very light, especially for someone taller than me. It’s not difficult to carry him. His broken limbs simply dangle as I walk, and I try to go slow so as not to jostle them too badly.
I accidentally kick a small rock as I walk, and it skitters along the ground. The poor demon jolts at the sound, his electric blue eyes open wide in sheer terror. His frantic heart’s beating so fast that I can feel it through the hand I have resting on his upper back.
“It was just a rock...it’s okay,” I try to reassure him, holding him tighter in the hopes that he’ll feel more secure. “They’re not coming back. You’re safe...you’re with me.”
“Aku...” he whispers, his eyes still wide with fear. “H-he was...furious...”
Shit. He already knows Demongo lost.
“I...thought it was over! I...I was so--!”
“Shh...What did I tell you? You’re safe, now...” I repeat, trying to calm him before his racing heart tears itself in half. “I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore. I don’t care if it’s some old warrior, the Samurai, or the master of darkness himself.”
I gently lay him down in my vehicle upon the seat next to mine. I then get to work on the process of treating the rest of his injuries. I only have an emergency kit to work with, but it’s something. I use pretty much the entire bottle of antiseptic, rubbing it into his wounds with one hand and comforting him with the other while he screams and wails at the sting. Once that’s done, I wrap thick layers of gauze around pretty much his entire torso, and move to setting his broken bones. Demongo of course handles this no better, and my ears are starting to ring by the time I’m done. It occurs to me that his attackers must have broken his limbs to keep him from fleeing or fighting back, and I nearly lose my lunch just imagining him lying there, surrounded on all sides, unable to even resist as they tear into him. He was so scared...I should have been there. But...maybe then I would have died, too.
Once I finish tending to him, I gently kiss his cheek. He was very tense before, but he relaxes somewhat at this. He watches me as I walk back around to the pilot’s side, and he looks utterly exhausted.
“Sleep,” I tell him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s a long ride back. I promise I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
He protests for a moment, but soon after I set off for home, his eyes are closed, his breathing slow and even.
. . .
I carried him inside once we returned, careful not to wake him. I placed him into the bed and with how cold he still was, I made sure to pull the sheets over and snuggle up to him as he slept, trying to warm him with my own body heat. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep as well, lulled by the reassuring sound of his gentle breathing.
~
“No! Stay back! Please...please don’t hurt me!”
Demongo was thrown to the ground after one of the warriors tried to stop him from fleeing. Raising himself up on his elbows, he tried to stand once more. A warrior gave him a boot to the face in return, knocking him onto his back. Something solid and sharp thudded into his chest, and as his vision cleared, he saw that it had been a battleaxe. He screamed first from the shock, then from the pain as the shock faded. He still tried to squirm away, and a few warriors stepped in, grabbing each of his limbs.
“NO! STOP!” He pleaded, desperately trying to pull himself free as they each forcibly twisted his limbs until they snapped. He wasn’t sure how he even managed to stay conscious. All he could do was scream, a tortured sound that echoed off the canyon walls. Forcing his eyes open, he saw blue blood gushing from the fresh wound in his chest, and spurting from one of his arms, where the bone had snapped so badly that it had torn through his flesh and ripped open an artery. He continued to scream, unable to manage anything else. His chest endured stab after stab, but because of the protective layer where he had once kept the stolen essence of these warriors, none of their blades could reach his heart.
“I worry about you sometimes, when you’re gone for long. What will I do if you don’t come back one day?”
Rose’s words repeated in his head as the loss of blood began to cloud his senses. Rose. If she were here, she’d make the pain go away. She’d hold him close and save him from this nightmare. If only...
He hardly felt the pain anymore. It all blended together into a fog. His vision narrowed until he could see nothing but the sky above. He felt his heart give a few more weak flutters, then...
His essence left his body, and drifted until it was trapped within a skull of glass. He was free of the pain, but he knew what was to come. Looking upon his master, who held what remained of him in the palm of his massive hand, Demongo felt a potent mixture of terror and dread. His master was not the forgiving type.
“You have failed me, Demongo.” Aku’s voice was calm, but filled with unspoken fury.
Unsure of what else to do, the demon clasped his hands together in plea and begged Aku. “No, Master, please forgive me!”
To his surprise, Aku actually seemed to consider it. For only a single, cruel moment. In the next instant, Demongo’s prison caved in on him as Aku crushed it to pieces without even so much as looking at him.
And then...
The taste of iron on his tongue. A warm breath filling his lungs. A fragment of essence was absorbed by his broken body, nourishing it just enough to restore it to life. His tortured heart weakly convulsed, then resumed an imperfect rhythm, fresh blood spreading through his veins. His lungs tried to expand, desperately pulling in air in a sharp gasp. There were warm hands upon his chest. As Demongo awakened, so did his nerves. The countless wounds he’d sustained stung and bled anew, but he didn’t have the breath to scream.
A pair of unseen hands lifted him from the ground. No! No more! Leave me alone! he wanted to scream, but all he could muster was a few grunts of pain. Please! he pleaded silently to whatever forces in the universe were truly compassionate and might take pity on a horrid soul-stealing demon. NO MORE! PLEASE! IT HURTS TOO MUCH!
“It’s me,” a gentle voice spoke softly to him. “It’s me, Demongo. It’s Rose...I’m taking you home.”
For a moment, the pain faded. “...Rose?” It was a cruel trick. The warriors hadn’t left. They still wanted to make him suffer. He fell forward, nearly fading again. The distinct, sweet smell of Rose’s soap made him cling to consciousness. The feeling of her soft, curly hair against his head. It was her. She’d come to save him, just as he’d wished for in his final moments. “Please...do something...” he pleaded with her, convulsing and crying out when the pain returned with a vengeance. “IT HURTS!”
That was her hand upon his back. It was warm, gentle. She cooed softly to him...then said something about her cutting a finger on his fang. She lowered him again, and another drop of iron hit his tongue. When the essence was taken in by his body, he became famished for it. Practically on instinct, he eagerly lapped up Rose’s blood. Essence flowed into his veins, feeding his wounded body, repairing the worst of the damage first. This hurt, too, but he tried to focus on the taste of her blood instead. He felt a sudden sharp pain in his arm when Rose began forcing it to lie straight. Flesh closed up over it, and the artery severed by the bone knitted itself back together. She’d stopped it from closing in the wrong position...she was clever like that when she needed to be.
His body craved more of her essence. He was completely desperate, like a starving man given a scrap of bread. His fangs began to ache, they cried out to be sunken into her neck!
No! He pulled back, and turned his head away. I need her... “Enough...” he began, explaining that he wouldn’t risk hurting her. He simply begged to be taken home.
Rose lifted him and carried him with ease. She wasn’t strong, but he was light enough that it didn’t matter. His broken bones ached as she walked, but he could tell she was being careful not to cause him any worse pain. She’d always been so kind to him...no matter what.
There was a sudden skittering sound on the ground. Terror gripped his heart and made it pound against his rib cage. They’re back! No! Stay away!
Rose’s gentle voice reassured him, telling him that she’d only kicked a rock. Demongo recalled Aku’s fury at his failure to defeat the Samurai, and began to panic anew. He tried to warn her, but she continued to speak softly and told him that she would protect him. He felt...warmth in his aching chest.
She patched him up inside the hovercar. The antiseptic stung like a million tiny needles, but Rose’s hands and voice remained gentle as she worked. His broken bones protested furiously when she set them, and his throat was raw from his cries of pain by the time she’d finished. He knew she was helping him, he only wished there were an easier way. Her soft lips pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, and it was comfortingly warm.
He didn’t want to sleep...he still dreaded that this was all some cruel dream, and Rose would be gone when he awoke. But all the same...sleep overtook him.
. . .
I awoke to Demongo’s panicked screams and pleas for mercy. At first thinking he was being attacked again, I jumped up in bed and looked around, but saw nothing but the gentle morning sunlight coming in through the window. Demongo was thrashing, his eyes shut tight.
“NOOOO! NOOOOO!” He was crying, tears streaming down his face anew.
I took a hold of him and gently raised him to my chest, pressing the side of his head against it. I hushed him and cooed to him softly as the sound of my heartbeat began to soothe him.
He slowly opened his eyes, and looked up at me. They were like the eyes of a frightened little boy who’d just woken from a nightmare.
“I told you I’d still be here,” I said to him, smiling softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop them...you must have been so scared...but it’ll never happen again. I promise. No one will ever hurt you again.”
“Y-you...you can’t protect me...” He muttered, tears still wetting my clothes. “He’ll find me...”
“I don’t care.” I replied defiantly. “Old Flamebrows isn’t going to lay a single finger on you if I can help it. You’ve kissed up to him for long enough. You’re not his toy anymore.” I pause, and give him a warm smile. “You’re my little matchstick. I love you too much to let someone take you away.”
Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, but for the first time since he left to face the Samurai, he smiled. But then he looked ashamed. “...I don’t...deserve you...I’m nothing without my essence...”
“Wrong,” I replied, kissing his smokey forehead. “You’re still my little matchstick.” I keep smiling warmly at him. “Now...you must be starving. I’m afraid I don’t have any essence on the menu, but I was going to make you some omurice when you returned. Would you like some?”
He nodded, still tearing up, but smiling once again.
I chuckled a bit. “I’ll bring some water, too. You’re gonna dehydrate yourself with all those tears.” Thinking over it, I add, “Oh, and some of that special herbal tea for pain. I don’t know how well it works on broken bones, but it worked pretty well for me the last time I had nasty period cramps.”
"Send me ❤ + an F/O and I'll tell you about something they'd love about me!"
Ok. so. I think Demongo would genuinely just think I'm adorable. Guy's pinching my cheeks and audibly cooing over me with my little outfits and round face and brown doe eyes and the way my hair does the perfect Goldilocks curls when it dries after a shower---and he's like, sweetly sighing over me, rambling about something cute I did to Scaramouche (and he's just like "Sheesh, babe, just marry her already!")
Licorice Cookie loves my character voices when I read, and he loves how I enjoy fantasy and undead things so much. He loves my laugh and we get to laugh maniacally together.
In case you are doing the f/o presentation thingy: Could you do one with Demongo?
New ask meme: send me an f/o and I’ll make a shitty power point slide saying why I added them to my list and the pros and cons of having them as an f/o
