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Entry tags:
TDM 001 ● JUNE 2025
TDM: ONE
ᛗPRELUDE
(content warnings: dream horror, loss of autonomy, mild body horror, cult undertones )You’ve had this dream before.
A moon cracked wide, spilling tendrils from its craters like bleeding silk. A sky starless and slow. And on the horizon: a wave. Massive. Black. Still. It creeps forward every time like sunrise. It hushes before collapse, but every time before this, you wake up just in time.
But not tonight. You can't outrun it even if you tried— it comes crashing down on you at last, swallowing you like a gaping black hole. Saltless, soundless, the water devours. But instead of drowning, you drift, suspended in velvet dark. And in that dark, her voice breathes.
Let me in.
I can give you everything you’ve ever hungered for.
A place.
A purpose.
Stay.”
She offers. And you— your mouth, your mind— give an answer before you even know you’re speaking. Yes.
The tide recedes. The dark peels away like silk. You awaken beneath a canopy of gold, in a garden that hums with warmth and longing. Soft grass. Strange trees. Fragrant fruits in every color, dripping with light. And a mask upon your face, no straps, no weight, yet it clings to your skin like it was always part of you. You don't want to remove it. You could, maybe . . . But it would feel like tearing your skin away.
She no longer speaks to you, but her orchard breaths a sigh upon your arrival. A force tugs at the edges of your thoughts, beckoning you to contact the web you're now a part of. Welcome, Vessel.
ᛗYOU CAN THREAD THE NEEDLE
(content warnings: sensory manipulation )An orchard stretches around you in impossible directions, the horizon blurred like wet paint. Trees curl and arch with an elegance that feels practiced— like they’re posing for someone watching. Their trunks shimmer faintly. Leaves flutter even when there is no wind.
You are not alone. Others stir nearby, familiar or unfamiliar, though that distinction begins to blur. You may not know them, or perhaps you have the feeling you do even if you've never met them in your life. Either way, you might wish to know them.
From the strange branches within the orchard hang fruits shaped like stars, teardrops, or glass bells. Each one pulses faintly, waiting to be plucked. Their effects are subtle but powerful, crafted to cater to your desire and wonder:
🍎A pearlescent orb, cool and slick to the touch, whose taste floods you with a future that might be: a fleeting vision of joy, belonging, or beauty you didn’t know you craved. Whoever is nearby sees a glimpse of it too.
🍎A silver-veined citrus, fizzing like champagne. When shared between two, it evokes the feeling of a first time— first love, first rebellion, first triumph — even if you’ve never lived it. The emotional residue lingers between you.
🍎A blood-orange fruit with velvet skin, which when bitten into, causes your voice to harmonize with another’s— even if you weren’t speaking. You’ll find yourselves finishing each other’s thoughts, or speaking a secret you both forgot you held.
🍎A waxen, translucent fig, which grants you a small miracle: something you longed for appears beside you, conjured from dream. It might be a lost keepsake. A voice. A scent. A face.
🍎A smooth, silver fruit with a mirrored skin. When bitten, it briefly reflects the dreamer’s true self — not as they are, but as they wish to be. For a moment, others may see it too. The illusion clings for a time, making the character appear more like their ideal self in body, presence, or aura.
🍎A dark plum that glows faintly pink, almost heart-shaped, and warm to the touch. Its juice runs red and sticky, clinging to the lips. To taste it is to be filled with longing— for intimacy, for sensation, for touch. The desire may be gentle or overwhelming, but it lingers, tuned to the presence of someone nearby. It is not mindless. It is focused.
At the center of the orchard is a fountain, still and inviting. Its water tastes like clarity— and for a moment after drinking, your thoughts shape your surroundings. What you create might intertwine with what another dreams beside you.
Sleep does not speak in words. She breathes through the trees, hums through the soil, stares through your mask. Her voice, barely a whisper:
Want.
Want, and see what answers you.”
You feel it,— if you resonate with another, something will change. Maybe the orchard will shift again. Maybe it already has.
ᛗTHE DAYLIGHT RECEDES
(content warnings: grief, loss, emotional vulnerability)The orchard is gone. In its place stretches a landscape of ashen grass, supple and fragrant underfoot, warmed by a pale light that doesn’t seem to come from the sun. All around, a soft breeze stirs the fields— endless, loamy, and quiet. The air smells like soil after rain. It is peaceful here. But not happy.
Scattered across the fields are half-buried remnants: old beds, cracked record players, wilted bouquets, melted candles, notes scrawled on napkins— things lost in the moments between love and loneliness. Everything here feels half-remembered, yet painfully familiar. If a character reaches for one of these objects, they may hear a voice whispering a name they have tried to forget, or one they wish they'd remembered sooner.
In the distance, a shrouded figure walks the fields, unhurried, always just out of reach. Their back is turned, but their presence pulls like gravity. Some may choose to follow. Some may wait. And some may realize they’re walking beside someone else— a stranger who seems to carry a memory they, too, once held.
This is a moment of reflection. Interactions blossom from shared worries, slow confessions, or uncanny synchronicities. Characters might recognize something in another, such as a gesture, a phrase, a scent— and feel that thread begin to tug. Best follow its lead . . . You won't be able to leave unless you do.
ᛗ
EVERYTHING WE LOVE RESETS
(content warnings: body horror, transformation, loss of autonomy, psychological horror, cosmic dread )
You awaken— or perhaps you never truly slept. The orchard is gone. The fields have withered. All is silence now, and the air is soaked in dread.
A still, uncanny plane stretches out before you: rotted soil, stagnant pools, shattered glass trees that hum with an almost-familiar voice. Echoes of what the dream once offered—sweet fruit, blooming things, beauty— remain only as scars on the land. Their pleasures have fermented into menace. The dreamscape is collapsing.
Sleep, ever present, ever watching, does not weep. She has already taken what she wants, and you see her teeth stretched too wide in the shadows. In the reflection that splits back at you. In the soundless breeze with much more bite and possession than the gentle caress of invitation. She whispers, from the shadows between dying stars:
"You said yes. Now let me see what you become."
The mask on your face tightens, no longer decoration. A binding. You are no longer merely dreaming— Your skin may change fluidly, or break down through the bones violently. Your flesh may split, brimming with power, or your blood could burn like lava oozing through your veins. You may even experience it again, and again, and again; a different beast or burst of magic each time. Whether painful or painless, You are now either Token, or Offering. You may not yet know what that means— But your body does.
A still, uncanny plane stretches out before you: rotted soil, stagnant pools, shattered glass trees that hum with an almost-familiar voice. Echoes of what the dream once offered—sweet fruit, blooming things, beauty— remain only as scars on the land. Their pleasures have fermented into menace. The dreamscape is collapsing.
Sleep, ever present, ever watching, does not weep. She has already taken what she wants, and you see her teeth stretched too wide in the shadows. In the reflection that splits back at you. In the soundless breeze with much more bite and possession than the gentle caress of invitation. She whispers, from the shadows between dying stars:
The mask on your face tightens, no longer decoration. A binding. You are no longer merely dreaming— Your skin may change fluidly, or break down through the bones violently. Your flesh may split, brimming with power, or your blood could burn like lava oozing through your veins. You may even experience it again, and again, and again; a different beast or burst of magic each time. Whether painful or painless, You are now either Token, or Offering. You may not yet know what that means— But your body does.
ᛗ EVEN WHEN WE RUN WITH DEATH
(content warnings: body horror, fungal infections, parasitism, loss of agency, cosmic horror, violence, death, cult imagery)Your surroundings bend and break with growing instability: The sky splits open, revealing a bleeding red moon, weeping tendrils like raw nerves. It feels wrong in a way you have no words for. It sees you. And it beckons for blood.
The dream does not want peace now. It wants performance. It wants pain. And above all, Sleep wants you all to herself. She watches from the broken heavens, humming in delight as you run, as you fight, as you fracture under the weight of your becoming. Perhaps you turn on each other, frightened with what you have become or too frazzled to control yourself, or the newfound power you possess.
There are other things to look out for, though. Creatures stalk this unraveling plane: malformed creatures with mutated faces and fungal blooms bursting from their orifices, or tendrils slithering from what were once mouths and eye sockets. Once Vessels. Hosts. They may speak with familiar voices. They may try to barter, or bite. Those with hands and fingers may try and force your eyelids to part, to tilt your gaze to the sky above you, chanting in tongues that drill into your brain stem. Hushing in song. Whispering Look at her. She is Beautiful.
If you are caught, if you gaze up at Her for too long— you too will suffer the same fate. Fungal bursts and tendrils will spurt from your mouth, invade you from the inside and reach out to her in sacred reverence. It's a horrible way to go. If this is an end you find, you too, despite your pain, may begin to smile. You might have even more reason to attack your fellow Vessels. They too, must see Her beauty like you do.
The song stutters. The dream recoils when you succumb to the worst of Her parasitism, even though you don't lose consciousness. It is not Sleep who speaks next. In your last few seconds of awareness, you hear in your ears, in your mind, in your soul, snarling and thick with fury:
The world begins to scream. You begin to fall.
The dream is over.
ᛗNOTES
➤ Welcome to Somnia’s first TDM! All TDMs will be considered game canon.
➤ You are free (and encouraged!) to experiment with the Tether mechanic as well as Vessel options and the Network to your liking; this is a dreamscape, so multiple/different situations for you to really test which option you like most is possible.
➤ All TDMs take place within a dreamscape, meaning characters can interact with the setting without needing to apply. Come have fun with us!
➤ Mod invited players may currently extend one invite per player. Interested players who do not have mod invites or a friend to get an invite from may comment to the appropriate top level to solicit one, or, solicit one from the mod here. Please keep in mind that soliciting an invite does not guarantee one.
➤ Questions? Please direct them to the designated questions comment linked below!
➤ You are free (and encouraged!) to experiment with the Tether mechanic as well as Vessel options and the Network to your liking; this is a dreamscape, so multiple/different situations for you to really test which option you like most is possible.
➤ All TDMs take place within a dreamscape, meaning characters can interact with the setting without needing to apply. Come have fun with us!
➤ Mod invited players may currently extend one invite per player. Interested players who do not have mod invites or a friend to get an invite from may comment to the appropriate top level to solicit one, or, solicit one from the mod here. Please keep in mind that soliciting an invite does not guarantee one.
➤ Questions? Please direct them to the designated questions comment linked below!
lmao no apologies
Lune. How? If she's here, in this horrific place that he's half-convinced is just somehow his own nightmare, then are there others, here? Where is here? He bites down the questions, squeezes her arm harder, pointedly. Quiet. When he sees her head tip back, her eyes scanning upwards, he yanks on her arm, again, a firm shake of his head. She'd probably just meant to try and look at the creatures that were just passing them by, but. Looking up is dangerous. That's the sky. That's the moon. That's Her, overhead, and Verso doesn't understand how he knows it but he can feel it. They can't look.
There's something silvery shimmering around them. Whatever illusion Verso had managed to conjure, keeping them out of sight, with some power that feels nothing like the chroma he knows. His eyes flicker briefly to her ink stained hands, and slowly, he lets out a breath. ]
-- Okay. [ Okay. Safe enough, for now. Those creatures seem to have passed over, but he doubts that's the last of them. ] We're okay. I think.
no subject
The moment that Verso speaks and confirms that they might be gone, and she can no longer hear beyond her heart pounding in her ears, she wrenches her arm from his grip. Her tone is biting for what it is, even if she tries to smother her anger and remain objective. ]
We won't be for long. We need to regroup with whomever else is here.
[ Expedition or no, all of those old instincts kick right back in. If they're all scattered, they are easier to pick off, and that's likely the point. And it means she can't just walk away from him, no matter how much she'd like to.
She almost can't help herself. She has to ask: ]
...What did you do?
[ How were those things not able to find them? ]
clair obscur spoils (act2+)
i have decided to use a cut
[ Lune's voice is sharp with anger as she wrenches her arm from his grip, and he might flinch a little from it, just barely perceptible as he tries to hold steady. He probably deserves that, and more. It's fine. But right now -- her actual words, what she's saying, that takes precedence. ]Yeah. Got it. [ He nods. Regroup. Good, calm, logical. The kind of thing written out in protocol. Every other problem, where the hell are they, how did they get here, what's happening, how did they get split up, what are these masks -- those are important, but reeling around the unknowns won't help. There are clearer, actionable things to do, something to focus on other than the voice screaming in his head to turn his head up, to look at Her.
That question, though. Verso lifts a hand, stares at it, and as his fingers flex, he swears he sees his skin shimmer. He's had dreams, sometimes, of melting into paint. Sometimes he thinks he tastes ink at the back of his throat. But this is something . . . Different. ]
Wish I could tell you. [ He really does. ] I think a problem for later.
[ It seems to be -- working, whatever this is, this silvery shimmer in the air that lets the creatures pass over them without noticing. That has to be good enough for now, until the danger is actually past. ]
no subject
the cut is probably wise tbh
[ The urge to shake him and demand answers is almost too powerful to set aside. Her chest feels too tight, like her ribs might cave in just by looking at him. Did you know? Did you know what would happen, and you let us do it anyway?
It's not the right time. She repeats it over and over, her mantra, her anchor. Not now. She can't ask him questions if the both of them are dead, if that creature in the heavens takes them first. The vacillation between illusion and reality is so thin now that even she can't discern the difference. In the end, it doesn't matter. They have to move, and they have to be careful, or they're going to find out how gruesome an end they might have.
And she's seen too many bodies to let herself become one of them. ]
Likely. But we need to know if it'll hold and if we can move with it.
[ A quick assessment. Her hand goes out, brushing up against that barely perceivable ripple, feeling the magic whisper across her fingers. Is it static, does it have to stay here? Or can it move with him?
They'll need to find out, and quickly. ]
Move, walk. I need to know if this can move with us, if you can keep us shielded until we find others and group up.
[ Ingrained pieces of her training. Find a focal spot, send a flare if necessary. It's no different than a field survey, though this is more deadly by far. ]
no subject
spoily spoil spoil
[ As more of that anger starts to flicker through her eyes, Verso has to look away, can barely bring himself to meet her eyes. A fucking coward, in the end, no matter what else he tries to tell himself -- but later. That can come later. The least he can do right now is try to get them out of this, whatever this is. He's made a lot of mistakes, made choices that he knows Lune wouldn't approve of, but whatever it was that brought them here with that things split into tendrils and mouths and Her hanging blood-red in the sky overhead, it sure wasn't him.He nods. Lune's always had a good head for things, and right now, despite everything, he's grateful to have a little bit of direction. He watches her fingers press through that strange ripple, the veil he's pulled across them. ]
It doesn't feel like chroma, does it?
[ A mutter, as much to himself as to her. It's something different, and he doesn't know what it is. He takes a breath, straightens himself, and he tries to find it in himself to -- focus. This strange thing had come up around him in a moment of instinct, him moving to the ground, knowing he needed to be hide, to shield himself from Her gaze overhead. How does he tap into that willingly -- and quickly, so Lune doesn't rip his damn head off ( like he absolutely deserves )?
Chroma flickers through his arms, down to his fingers, the pictos in his skin. Instinct to use old channels that he knows how to use, that maybe this somehow follows something similar. He shifts taking one step to the side, broadcasting the movement clearly towards Lune so she can move with him, just in case. The veil around them flickers, but seems to move with him. It's small, though, enough to cover them both. Could he expand it? He has no idea how to even start. ]
I think I could move us. Slowly -- and quietly. [ The damn things passing by seem to not see them, but Verso hasn't been able to figure out if they'd be able to hear them through this strange shimmering mist. He doesn't really want to find out. ] See a vantage point anywhere?
no subject
listen, if people are clicking these things, they should know what's coming
[ To his first question, she shakes her head. The fire in her eyes dies down, too focused on the need to be present in the moment. She can't lose herself to emotion at a time like this. ]
Not precisely. But there's... [ A pause, then. ] It's similar enough. You know what to do.
[ It's oddly encouraging, not biting this time. Verso may not be a mage like Lune is, isn't covered in Pictos the same way she is, but he knows how to channel it well enough. She steps closer to him, close enough so she can at least better feel out what he's doing (or, rather, she'd be able to if they weren't here). Instead, she has to rely on simply watching, and her eyes follow the shifting subtleties of the veil. It's like water, she realizes, but so faint it might as well be a curtain. Her hand reaches out again, stopping just before contact.
No time. She can examine it better later. So, instead, she gives him a nod. ]
There's a hill nearby, eastward. There are twining trees there. [ Both dead, she'd noted, and terribly rotten. ] We can try there first.
[ Until then, better to be cautious and quiet, even if it means she has to be right beside him so they aren't discovered. Her gaze flicks around, looking for the shadows of any of those creatures, if only so she knows how quickly to move with him. ]
no subject
!! FREE CANDY !!
[ The bite is gone from her voice and faded from her eyes, but Verso hears it in his own head. She'll light up back with it the moment they're safe and she can turn her focus from the priority of protocol to literally anything else. He deserves it, really, he understands, he does -- but for now he'll take the head start in trying to win back even the slightest modicum of trust, from her. He'll do what he can.
He watches when she moves closer, clearly trying to get a sense of what he's doing -- she'd be able to feel how he's channeling chroma, trying to use that to find some pathway of focus that the shimmer around them might respond to. He doesn't quite find it, but he seems to find something close, and he nods. ]
Sounds like that's as good as we're gonna get.
[ Something whispering into his thoughts tells him that its no use. Nothing's going to be safe from Her. Nothing can evade Her gaze. Nothing can stop you from beholding Her. He shakes it off, grits his teeth, drawing a slow breath. His fingers twitch, some of the veil seems to shimmer and shift with it. There. That's something. It has to be enough. ]
Stay close. [ His voice lowers a little more -- they'd best stay as quiet as they can, gesturing her in towards him with a tip of his head. ] I'm gonna be focused on this, so --
[ Just a nod, trusting she'll understand his meaning. He doesn't fully understand this thing he's wielding, and yet it's what they're trusting their lives to, right now. All of his focus, as much as he can, is going to be on making sure it stays. She's going to need to help keep an eye out, maybe even direct him some as they move. He lowers his head, drawing a deep breath. ]
Careful. Eyes down.
[ Careful, while you're looking out. Eyes down, away from Her, no matter how much she calls. He doesn't know if Lune is hearing quite the same thing he is, but she must be, they all have to be, with how pervasive that dirgeful chorus seems to be in his thoughts, with how that blood-red light spills from the sky absolutely everywhere, the extent of Her reach, Her touch. He waits for a signal of some kind, some acknowledgement that she's ready -- and slowly starts to move, that veil flickering, moving with them. Picking a slow, miserable path through the desolation and mess around them. ]
no subject
lmao please
[ It will have to do. As much as she detests leaving things entirely to chance, there is too much danger around them for a better analysis. Instead, she can see - and feel - the way he tries to reach for this new ability and grasp it for himself. And in this she has to trust him. In this, she does trust him. It's one of the few places she does; Verso has lived so long that he knows how to fight, knows how to adapt, and she has to place this piece in his hands.
And all she can do is support him. ]
I'll back you up.
[ She has a few new tricks up her own sleeve now, too. And even if she didn't, it's... This part is familiar, at least, and she'll have to lean on it. If he's carrying the burden of shielding them, then it's her place to watch his back and protect him too.
From what is ultimately the problem, with that voice scraping through her thoughts like nails on granite. She can't look up or risk seeing Her, and so she'll need to watch most things from her periphery. There's no other option. And with a nod and a brief gesture of a hand, she indicates she's ready, and follows him. Lune keeps only necessary distance between them, too concerned that if she strays just far enough away by force of habit that she'll expose them both.
The sickening sound of something rattling is close by, gurgled in a grotesque throat. Lune doesn't look up, though she sees a creature feasting on...something on the ground, its back to them. With a tip of her head, she indicates for Verso to keep going, and she'll watch to make sure it's not following. That it can't hear them. ]
no subject
!! HOT SINGLES IN YOUR AREA !!
[ Any ( very justified, and not just ) personal gripes Lune has with him are quietly and professionally put aside in favor of the more immediate task of staying alive and making their way through the hell they've somehow woken up into. She could reject this, pull away and distrust him with it or push her way into directing him more -- but she seems willing enough to trust his competence, if nothing else. And that's good.
Verso has them move slowly. The landscape is strange, unfamiliar and uneven, he swears parts of it seem to shift and move. The only light they have is the blood red poured out from the sky and Her overhead, and he just doesn't want to put full trust in it, if he can help it, doesn't trust the ground itself to not give way beneath their feet. The veil he's maintaining, too, he doesn't fully trust, trying to keep them moving from cover to cover and as quietly as possible so that the mist can help them rather than be the only thing preventing them from being seen and caught. The creatures roam erratically, and especially when he's keeping his head down and trying to focus on that strange not-yet-tangible link he has to controlling this strange thing, he has to trust Lune to direct him.
He hears that awful rattling, his hairs standing on end, doesn't see the creature but he hears what sounds like too many jaws and tongues and the tear of wet flesh. Instinctively, he stops, but Lune gestures for them to keep going, and -- he'll trust her direction, giving her a quiet nod. Pressing ahead, uncomfortably close to that awful noise. Carefully moving past, and beyond. ]
Look out for shelter.
[ The quietest murmur. That vantage point they're heading to may or may not be useful for finding anyone else, but. As they move, he swears the shadows across the ground haven't changed at all, makes him feel like the thing ( Her ) hanging overhead may never set or rise, just there, eternal. They'll need to find something to stay out of this light, to maybe buy them some time from whatever horror is unfolding around them. ]
no subject
Doctors HATE this one trick!
[ The sound is nauseating. At least the Nevrons wandered their areas. She's never seen - or heard - of one simply feasting like this. Lune's eyes remain on the creature's back until Verso has led them far enough away that she can dare to focus her attention elsewhere. They're not far from the crest of the hill. It won't give them shelter but it will give them a bit of height. The challenge will come with trying to look across the horizon without looking up. It's a risk she's willing to take if it means they can find shelter.
Once the trees come into view, she gestures with her fingers towards them. ]
When there's an opening.
[ Her voice is barely a whispers. The monsters are roaming mostly aimlessly, thankfully not clustered, but that can change the minute they see or hear something. It makes her realize that if they're successful at sneaking around, it doesn't mean anyone else is having the same luck, and there's a twist in her stomach of guilt. Lune presses it aside, willing herself forward towards the rotted trunks once Verso leads them there. And she holds still and silent, listening, waiting. Something springs up in her mind's eye.
She turns from Verso, not leaving his side, but stretching her fingers out to the threshold of the veil that hides them. A letter forms in script unfamiliar to both of them, though she simply seems to know it's there. It hovers, then fades, and nothing seems to have changed. Or has it?
Lune looks his way. ]
Give me a boost. I'll look.
[ He's holding the veil up. She'd rather risk one set of eyes than two, and he needs his concentration to do...whatever it is he's doing to keep the spell stable. ]