Denji (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mansbestend) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
songerein2023-10-04 05:41 pm
mansbestend) wrote in songerein2023-10-04 05:41 pm
Entry tags:
A Little Taste
Who: Denji and Open!
Which: Passive Dream Recording and a Dreamwalking prompt within!
Where: It's all in your head, kid.
What: After having an unfortunate nightmare, Denji feels hungry at night. So very, very hungry.
Warnings: Gore? Violence? This is vampirism, after all. Threads will be marked should things come up. I assume folks are getting bitten in the dreamwalking prompt unless you specify otherwise.
[Night 1, Passive Dream Recording]
The breath tore from him as he struggled, black tendrils winding around his arms and legs. Yet no matter how many chainsaws he conjured from his arms and legs, from his forehead, anything he cut seemed to turn to something like sludge, gumming up the chains. More of that tar seemed to grow to replace what was damaged, spreading from the spray of severed eldritch limbs.
His nice little dream, his thoughts of a picnic with his dog and many faceless people, were ruined in the first with ants and spiders crawling over every inch of food and drink, over his picnic buddies that had quickly stopped moving, somehow paralyzed under the touch of the intruders.
He wasn't afraid of bugs, and smashed them without much thought.
He wasn't afraid of losing these faceless people. He pointedly didn't put a face to them, to make things a little easier, more manageable, because his dreams always turned terrible, always ended in nightmares.
But he was afraid of being unable to move, rendered useless by something, and having no means to pull his cord to transform or get his chains moving again.
Maybe he was dumb. Maybe fighting these nightmares each time was a waste of time and energy, because he rarely won against them. But how was he going to face anybody if he just laid down and gave up each time he had a bad dream.
Some cute winged jellies were fluttering down, cooing in glee. No matter how much he struggled, shouted and swore, his picnic was fucked. He continued to shout and swear as they landed on his head, his shoulders, settled against his legs.
"I'm not your fuckin' snack!! Get... off...! GET THE HELL OFF!!"
But they opened their mouths in unison, revealing far too many needle-like teeth. When they bit down in so many places on his form, they were like shards of ice piercing skin, followed by a throbbing pain. The boy was so chock full of nightmare energy... he was a feast for the ages...!
The 'dream' ends with a scream of anger and pain.
[Night 2 and Onward]
Strangely, he's getting better at this dreamwalking thing. It was a matter of parting the veil, stepping through, and treading into a nice little scene. Other people had such nice dreams, after all... shit, better than he could ever cook up.
It was just easier to watch other people's dreams and get a little second-hand joy from it. Unless they kicked him out, anyway. But they couldn't fault him for this, could they? Just a little nice time, as a treat...?
But as the nights ran on, he was finding things... weird. Food he could sneak from the very edges of a dreamer's view just didn't hit like it was supposed to. No flavor, no juice, nothing. It was like he'd been holding his nose before tasting something terrible, if anything to be able to force it down. It was like the food had just gone 'mute'. What gives?
This fucking sucked. He was hungry. It made his body ache. It was a familiar ache, too, one he always battled against while growing up homeless; one he felt as he dug desperately through the garbage for the next small piece, anything to chase off that pain for another few hours at the most. If he was lucky. If it wasn't covered in mold or worse.
...Wait... what was that he smelled just now?
No, he wasn't losing his mind. Something smelled good just then. Really good. Finally, SOMETHING!
Denji gave an incredulous laugh of glee, unaware of the gleam of gold in his eyes as he moved ahead. Somebodything was here and he'll just ask nicely for a little bit.
Just a bite.
Which: Passive Dream Recording and a Dreamwalking prompt within!
Where: It's all in your head, kid.
What: After having an unfortunate nightmare, Denji feels hungry at night. So very, very hungry.
Warnings: Gore? Violence? This is vampirism, after all. Threads will be marked should things come up. I assume folks are getting bitten in the dreamwalking prompt unless you specify otherwise.
[Night 1, Passive Dream Recording]
The breath tore from him as he struggled, black tendrils winding around his arms and legs. Yet no matter how many chainsaws he conjured from his arms and legs, from his forehead, anything he cut seemed to turn to something like sludge, gumming up the chains. More of that tar seemed to grow to replace what was damaged, spreading from the spray of severed eldritch limbs.
His nice little dream, his thoughts of a picnic with his dog and many faceless people, were ruined in the first with ants and spiders crawling over every inch of food and drink, over his picnic buddies that had quickly stopped moving, somehow paralyzed under the touch of the intruders.
He wasn't afraid of bugs, and smashed them without much thought.
He wasn't afraid of losing these faceless people. He pointedly didn't put a face to them, to make things a little easier, more manageable, because his dreams always turned terrible, always ended in nightmares.
But he was afraid of being unable to move, rendered useless by something, and having no means to pull his cord to transform or get his chains moving again.
Maybe he was dumb. Maybe fighting these nightmares each time was a waste of time and energy, because he rarely won against them. But how was he going to face anybody if he just laid down and gave up each time he had a bad dream.
Some cute winged jellies were fluttering down, cooing in glee. No matter how much he struggled, shouted and swore, his picnic was fucked. He continued to shout and swear as they landed on his head, his shoulders, settled against his legs.
But they opened their mouths in unison, revealing far too many needle-like teeth. When they bit down in so many places on his form, they were like shards of ice piercing skin, followed by a throbbing pain. The boy was so chock full of nightmare energy... he was a feast for the ages...!
The 'dream' ends with a scream of anger and pain.
[Night 2 and Onward]
Strangely, he's getting better at this dreamwalking thing. It was a matter of parting the veil, stepping through, and treading into a nice little scene. Other people had such nice dreams, after all... shit, better than he could ever cook up.
It was just easier to watch other people's dreams and get a little second-hand joy from it. Unless they kicked him out, anyway. But they couldn't fault him for this, could they? Just a little nice time, as a treat...?
But as the nights ran on, he was finding things... weird. Food he could sneak from the very edges of a dreamer's view just didn't hit like it was supposed to. No flavor, no juice, nothing. It was like he'd been holding his nose before tasting something terrible, if anything to be able to force it down. It was like the food had just gone 'mute'. What gives?
This fucking sucked. He was hungry. It made his body ache. It was a familiar ache, too, one he always battled against while growing up homeless; one he felt as he dug desperately through the garbage for the next small piece, anything to chase off that pain for another few hours at the most. If he was lucky. If it wasn't covered in mold or worse.
...Wait... what was that he smelled just now?
No, he wasn't losing his mind. Something smelled good just then. Really good. Finally, SOMETHING!
Denji gave an incredulous laugh of glee, unaware of the gleam of gold in his eyes as he moved ahead. Some
Just a bite.
Onward
The tangy smell of blood that he has no idea is distracting or attracting other people.
Prompto sucks on his thumb. "Damn it." He murmurs around his thumb.
He hasn't even noticed Denji.
no subject
But there was everything about the scent he picked up that just made his stomach gnaw upon itself. He thought of the best meals he'd ever had, those first bowls of ramen that weren't instant, his first sweet, sweet bite of jam-covered toast...
His heart raced as he traced it and figured somebody was having something nice. He could just ask where they got it, then go and grab himself some. Instead, he found another blond who seemed to be having a little trouble.
Denji's mouth opened, a call on the tip of his tongue, but something held it back. No... no, it can't be that easy.
He shook his head and settled behind something handy, pausing to observe. His feet moved on their own, carrying him closer. Just a little bit... he'd been good at taking only what he needed before, back when he lived on the streets.
no subject
Yeah, not a big deal. It would probably stop in a few moments anyway.
He was completely unaware of Denji approaching, one way or another. He wasn't really thinking about it. He was kind of just considering what he was planning on doing when he got back to his tree house.
Probably he'd make himself a snack, actually, he had a horrible habit of getting hungry at night.