TDM 001 ● JUNE 2025

[uruz]

TDM: ONE

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PRELUDE

(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.

“You don’t have to fall with it.
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.

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YOU 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:

“Thread the needle, My Vessel.
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.

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THE 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.

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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.

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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:


“What have you done?”

The world begins to scream. You begin to fall.

The dream is over.

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NOTES

➤ 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!

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Comments

[longwillows]

[A pastel picture, indeed, though they seem to have some pinks and blues in common between them. Kalmiya watches the energy seep from the other person, takes in the slight discomfort of the shrug, and feels a polite amount of embarrassment for witnessing the scene.]

I'm sorry. [Sympathy, genuine despite their unacquaintance, followed by gentle contrition. Her eyes are soft as they peer out through her mask.] I didn't mean to intrude.

Are you all right?

[sculptedash]

[The fashion venn diagram between holy cults, and space snake cults had to overlap at some point.

Ash raised her hands up and waved them awkwardly.]

No- You don't have anything to apologize for. If I had of known that was going to happen, I would have found a cave a million miles away to crawl up into if I wanted to hear that.

[Because she didn't want to forget Fox's voice, or push those memories away. She missed him so much.

Her own pink eyes dart around a frantically as if trying to avoid the soft look in Kalmiya's. They eventually settle and relax as she thinks on the question. She hadn't exactly had much time to breath. Between losing her brother, between losing faith in the crew of Galaxy 2, and freeing Invictus. It had been a whirlwind.

Little Cato had told her she was losing it- She hadn't believed him at the time.]

I-

I'm working things out.

[A beat. And then a more honest answer.]

I don't think so.

[longwillows]

[Though Ash seems to try to avoid meeting her eyes, Kalmiya's gaze remains steady, taking in the other girl's mannerisms and the way she eventually settles into her answer. Opening up to a total stranger is more common than most people would think; so many people just want to know that they've been seen, even if it's by someone they've never met before.

So it isn't that part that surprises Kalmiya. What strikes her as strange is the sequence of reactions. The way the young woman had looked around, almost as if trying to find an escape from being seen, before relenting to honesty.

There's not enough there for Kalmiya to say with any certainty what this person might have gone through. But there's often a certain kind of loneliness in confessing something to a stranger.

She finally elects to hop down from her perch, her fall slowed by some apparent resistance to gravity's pull. She lands on her toes in a practiced motion so that they can converse more comfortably, though she doesn't yet take any steps closer.] It sounds like you've been through something quite difficult.

Would you like to talk about it?

[sculptedash]

[There was a part of Ash that was spooked by that gaze. She felt very seen when there was good reason for anyone that knew her to avoid her and look away.

She doesn't back away when Kalmiya touches down on the ground, but there's a moment where she tenses and looks like she might flee.

She feels a little bit of a nervous laugh play up.]

That might be putting it lightly. But- It could also just be playing it up.

[It was strange how she could still find a way to joke about it. There was a part of her that wished it meant she was numb to things actually happening.

She raises a hand up to rub her opposite arm. That was a loaded question.]

I wouldn't really know where to begin.

And I think you wouldn't want anything to do with me after I told you.

[Releasing eldritch beings to possibly burn down the known universe would do that.]

[longwillows]

[Taking a cue from the nervous laughter, Kalmiya lets her feet float up off the ground again, though this time she isn't making for a spot in the tree. Instead she folds her legs underneath her to appear as if she's sitting criss-cross applesauce in mid-air.

She tucks her hands under her chin and then leans forward a little, her elbows propped on her own folded legs, attempting to convey some whimsy and levity with her new posture.] Well, now you've gone and made me curious!

You needn't share anything you don't want to, of course. But I find that most people can benefit from a listening ear and an open mind.

[sculptedash]

[To tell the truth. Ash was actually a little jealous of how Kalmiya was able to just defy gravity like that. Her own abilities hadn't been working since she arrived here. She hadn't quite figured out how or why that might have happened, but those were questions for later.

The whimsy and levity were working wonders though. Her laugh was still nervous- but more out of social awkwardness than outright discomfort. It reminded her of Evra a little.]

Well- Don't say that I didn't warn you.

[And she shifts a little to sit on the ground herself, and she patted on the ground to indicate that Kalmiya could join her, or at least float down to her level if she wanted.]

The last few months have just been a blur of one thing after another. Me and my brother-

We were traveling with people who we thought were our friends. We thought they were doing the right thing. But- Something warned me that they weren't what they seemed.

...I should have done something to stop it. It warned me about what was going to happen. But I couldn't stop the man from leading us-

He took my brother from me, and everything just spiraled out of control from there.

[Her tone shifts a little throughout it. There's genuine sadness, but there's an undercurrent of something more manic in there as well.]

I realized I was surrounded by liars and killers.

[longwillows]

[Kalmiya accepts the invitation, though (as expected) doesn't fully land, opting instead to hover a couple of inches off the ground next to Ash with her body turned slightly towards the other girl in clear listening posture.

There are a few red flags in this story. Something warned me. She knows the feeling—it's hard to trust someone, much less something. Even when the given information has merit, things rarely give without planning to take something in return.

Then there's the slight edge of hysteria that creeps into her companion's words. Like the subtle grind of metal that's starting to lose its polish. The surprisingly quiet sound of a breaking point. Kalmiya continues to regard Ash steadily and with open curiosity, taking only a beat to consider where to go from here.

You wouldn't want anything to do with me. The grinding of worn metal. The sound of someone who has a confession to make. Without judgment, Kalmiya prompts,] What did you decide to do about that?

[sculptedash]

[That creature had certainly wanted something in return. It had been upfront about that much.

She feels exhausted, and on edge at the same time. It was relieving to have someone to talk to about this. But it also meant she had to face a lot of the choices she had made. She wasn't just worried about being judged by a stranger. But by herself too.]

I ran away. I took the only person I thought I could trust with me.

They turned their back on their me too.

...And then I lashed out- At one of the people the man who killed my brother cared for. I wanted him to feel what I felt.

And things only got worse from there.

[longwillows]

[Kalmiya's immediate thought, which she tactfully doesn't voice, is that at least this girl had someone to take with her when she ran away. Though Kalmiya also knows how painful it is to have your only trust betrayed—she's just not sure if it's worse than having no trust at all.

That's not for her to decide, anyway. This time there's a longer beat of silence while Kalmiya turns the new information over in her mind and draws some lines. Some parallels, perhaps.

Finally she looks away from Ash, though not out of any visible discomfort or revulsion. It's just one small way of insulating herself from her own confession. The aversion of her eyes and the strangely level (albeit wistful) cadence of her voice, both cushions against the grim reality of her statement.] One time I killed a man just because he startled me in a vulnerable moment. I'd just run away from something as well, and I didn't know my own strength.

I knew I'd done wrong, but I never reported it. Never turned myself in. He was a good man, too... His family is still looking for him.

[A beat lingers at the end of that sentence before she turns back to look at Ash, once again soft and nonjudgmental, hoping that extending this branch of her own pain and wrongdoing will give her companion the courage to continue. It seems she expects no response to her own admission and expects no digression, because she focuses right back on Ash's story.] How did it get worse?

[sculptedash]

[Ash can't mask the surprise, and the bit of empathy in her eyes as Kalmiya opens up to her. She hadn't exactly expected the other girl to have her own story that hit quite as home as it did with Ash's own experiences.

The first time she tapped into her powers. The first time she struck back when someone had tried to hurt her. They weren't the exact same, but it was too cases of them both not knowing their own strength.]

It's... scary when you don't know your own strength. I'm sorry you had to go through that. And that the family still don't know about it.

[There's a moment where she feels a little half smile pop up. It wasn't appropriate but- it was her family.]

My adoptive dad- He probably would have made a flesh suit out of him. Found a way to give some closure and take the heat off of you.

He was... An interesting con artist.

[She had cut off ties from Clarence since then, but she still had fond memories of travelling with him and Fox.

She accepts the small beat for what it was, and then moved on.]

They came for him. ...And in the end he went back with them.

They all left me alone.