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SUGAR & SAY THAT YOU WILL β JUNE 2026 EVENT/TDM
TDM & EVENT: SUGAR & SAY THAT YOU WILL
α
Prologue: The Pull
Sleep's wave comes unevenly after the heat of the last few weeks stack upon each other, weighed down by something that lingers even after consciousness fades for Veteran Vessels. A newer Vessel's dreams begin in familiar places before the edges darken and lose definition. A tide rolls in slowly, black and glossy, thick like oil spreading across water. Its scent arrives first, unmistakably sweet and heavy, clinging to the senses and pulling you down.
The tide slips through the dream space, seeping beneath doors, climbing walls, pooling around ankles and wrists, remaining close enough to be felt without forcing itself forward. The sensation draws attention rather than fear, offering warmth rather than the pressure of scary resistance.
For younger vessels, or those uninterested in seduction, the darkness softens as it rises. The feeling becomes comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket, accompanied by the sense that something beautiful waits ahead. The promise is simple: a place where indulgence is allowed, where desire is not something to be denied. For older vessels, the closeness carries intimacy: The tide glides along skin with deliberate intent, lingering at throats, hips, and mouths, its presence suggestive without revealing a form. Breath seems to brush against them, and the promise offered is indulgence without apology, to be wanted and consumed without consequence.
The tide does not claim them unless they allow it. Consent comes quietly, through a thought, a movement toward it, the choice not to pull away. When that choice is made, the water surges upward, swallowing the dream and pulling them beneath its surface.
You all will awaken within a Garden.
The tide slips through the dream space, seeping beneath doors, climbing walls, pooling around ankles and wrists, remaining close enough to be felt without forcing itself forward. The sensation draws attention rather than fear, offering warmth rather than the pressure of scary resistance.
For younger vessels, or those uninterested in seduction, the darkness softens as it rises. The feeling becomes comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket, accompanied by the sense that something beautiful waits ahead. The promise is simple: a place where indulgence is allowed, where desire is not something to be denied. For older vessels, the closeness carries intimacy: The tide glides along skin with deliberate intent, lingering at throats, hips, and mouths, its presence suggestive without revealing a form. Breath seems to brush against them, and the promise offered is indulgence without apology, to be wanted and consumed without consequence.
The tide does not claim them unless they allow it. Consent comes quietly, through a thought, a movement toward it, the choice not to pull away. When that choice is made, the water surges upward, swallowing the dream and pulling them beneath its surface.
You all will awaken within a Garden.
α
Play A Twisted Little Game
( content warnings: substance use, intoxication themes, addiction/temptation, manipulation and coercive influence, loss of inhibition, altered mental state, psychological horror, compulsive behavior, predatory/hunting instincts, animalistic aggression. )
The Garden stretches outward in impossible directions, lush to the point of excess, resembling a marvelously distorted fairy tale. Enormous flowers crowd the paths, their petals thick and glossy, colors saturated beyond reason. Trees twist into arches and spirals, their branches heavy with glowing fruit that hangs low enough to brush against shoulders. Massive mushrooms dot the landscape, their luminous caps casting soft light across the ground like candles and leading the way. Even where you step, flourescense lights your path.
Golden pollen drifts constantly through the air, clinging to skin and hair. Breathing it in brings a spreading warmth that softens one's restraint and dulls hesitation without fully erasing it. Laughter comes more easily, thoughts slow, and the urge to linger strengthens with every sweet breath you take.
The fruit is irresistible, for the record. It looks perfect, tastes even better, and leaves behind a pleasant haze that encourages indulgence. Those who partake may find themselves giving in to impulses they normally deny, choosing comfort over caution, distraction over vigilance, and pleasure over restraint. None of it feels dangerous, is how it entices you. How can it, when it feels this good?
Beyond fruit and flora, the Garden reshapes itself to suit each Vessel's wants and needs. It conjures whatever they love most, presenting it without shame or judgment. A clearing may reveal an entire pyramid of chilled pudding, each cup untouched and gleaming with sugar. A flower may open to offer fragrant tobacco and a lighter placed carefully within its petals. Sheltered spaces may contain alcohol, sweets, games, toys, music, drugs, books, instruments— anything capable of drawing the vessel deeper into indulgence.
The objects are real. They feel real, food tastes real, and they all satisfy, too.
The Garden responds eagerly to its use ever time. Paths widen, flowers bloom brighter, and the air grows warmer as indulgence continues among vessels. At the same time, subtle shifts begin to take hold. The pollen thickens, the sweetness becomes heavier, and vines creep closer to well-traveled spaces, brushing against ankles and legs as though testing their very boundaries. The more vessels indulge, the more the Garden thrives, and the harder it becomes to imagine leaving when everything they desire is right within reach.
Under a pink moon that hangs low above the canopy, the forest responds differently to Beastkin Tokens and Lycan Offerings. Scents sharpen and layer richly in the air. The hum of life beneath the soil grows louder, vibrating through bone and animal instinct. The floating pollen enhances instinct rather than dulling it. Hunger, territoriality, the urge to roam or chase press closer to the surface. The Garden may conjure open stretches of moonlit forest for running, fleeting silhouettes that invite pursuit, or rival presences that vanish just ahead of your grasp. Indulgence here may take the form of movement, dominance, or surrender to instinct beneath that glowing sky. The more these instincts are indulged, the more the forest reshapes itself to accommodate them, you, clearing paths forward, closing them behind, and making your hunts all the more exhilirating.
Token Effects
Offering Effects
Beastkin Tokens & Lycan Offerings Specific Effects
Golden pollen drifts constantly through the air, clinging to skin and hair. Breathing it in brings a spreading warmth that softens one's restraint and dulls hesitation without fully erasing it. Laughter comes more easily, thoughts slow, and the urge to linger strengthens with every sweet breath you take.
The fruit is irresistible, for the record. It looks perfect, tastes even better, and leaves behind a pleasant haze that encourages indulgence. Those who partake may find themselves giving in to impulses they normally deny, choosing comfort over caution, distraction over vigilance, and pleasure over restraint. None of it feels dangerous, is how it entices you. How can it, when it feels this good?
Beyond fruit and flora, the Garden reshapes itself to suit each Vessel's wants and needs. It conjures whatever they love most, presenting it without shame or judgment. A clearing may reveal an entire pyramid of chilled pudding, each cup untouched and gleaming with sugar. A flower may open to offer fragrant tobacco and a lighter placed carefully within its petals. Sheltered spaces may contain alcohol, sweets, games, toys, music, drugs, books, instruments— anything capable of drawing the vessel deeper into indulgence.
The objects are real. They feel real, food tastes real, and they all satisfy, too.
The Garden responds eagerly to its use ever time. Paths widen, flowers bloom brighter, and the air grows warmer as indulgence continues among vessels. At the same time, subtle shifts begin to take hold. The pollen thickens, the sweetness becomes heavier, and vines creep closer to well-traveled spaces, brushing against ankles and legs as though testing their very boundaries. The more vessels indulge, the more the Garden thrives, and the harder it becomes to imagine leaving when everything they desire is right within reach.
Under a pink moon that hangs low above the canopy, the forest responds differently to Beastkin Tokens and Lycan Offerings. Scents sharpen and layer richly in the air. The hum of life beneath the soil grows louder, vibrating through bone and animal instinct. The floating pollen enhances instinct rather than dulling it. Hunger, territoriality, the urge to roam or chase press closer to the surface. The Garden may conjure open stretches of moonlit forest for running, fleeting silhouettes that invite pursuit, or rival presences that vanish just ahead of your grasp. Indulgence here may take the form of movement, dominance, or surrender to instinct beneath that glowing sky. The more these instincts are indulged, the more the forest reshapes itself to accommodate them, you, clearing paths forward, closing them behind, and making your hunts all the more exhilirating.
Token Effects
β’ Tokens may temporarily lose track of time spent in the Garden.
β’ A Token who indulges repeatedly may find decision-making delayed or softened, hesitating when asked to leave, choose violence, or break comfort.
β’ Emotional responses skew toward contentment and nostalgia. Irritation and fear are harder to access unless provoked sharply.
β’ Tokens may unconsciously rationalize indulgence, defending their choices even when questioned by others.
β’ After waking, Tokens can retain phantom cravings or habits tied to what they indulged in, persisting for a short time in the waking world.
Offering Effects
β’ Offerings may feel an increased urge to facilitate indulgence rather than prevent it, guiding Tokens toward comfort, distraction, or pleasure.
β’ Protective instincts soften; instead of guarding against danger, Offerings may prioritize keeping the Token relaxed and satisfied.
β’ Offerings might become indulgent themselves by proxy, gaining emotional satisfaction from watching or enabling their Tokenβs enjoyment.
β’ When indulgence is interrupted, Offerings may feel mild irritation or disappointment disproportionate to the situation.
β’ Upon waking, Offerings may recall the dream with unusual fondness, even if nothing dramatic occurred within it.
Beastkin Tokens & Lycan Offerings Specific Effects
β’ Beastkin Tokens may experience heightened body awareness, reacting more strongly to terrain, scent trails, and movement through space.
β’ Repetitive motion (running paths, circling clearings, pacing) can become grounding and soothing rather than restless.
β’ Lycan Offerings may feel compelled to remain nearby without overt guarding, choosing proximity over patrol or vigilance.
β’ Subtle pack dynamics can emerge naturally, with unspoken positioning, shared pacing, or mirroring behavior during indulgence.
β’ After waking, both may feel briefly unsettled by confined spaces or inactivity, as if the body expects continued motion.
α
I've Developed A Taste For You
( content warnings: sexual content, aphrodisiac/sex pollen themes, coercion and impaired consent, restraint/bondage, dominance and submission themes, group sexual activity, possessiveness/territorial behavior, altered mental state. )
Deeper within the Garden lies a secluded expanse enclosed by dense growth that blocks sound and sight, forming a space that feels deliberately intimate. Vegetation grows close together, walls of leaves and vines pulsing faintly with warmth. Narrow beams of filtered light illuminate patches of soft ground and clusters of flowers that drip thick, honey-like nectar.
The air here is saturated with pollen that acts as a powerful aphrodisiac. Breathing it in heightens sensation immediately, making skin more reactive, touch more intense, and proximity impossible to ignore. Every sound feels closer than it should. Every movement carries weight.
The vines guide bodies together, coiling around ankles, wrists, and torsos, holding vessels in place until closeness is acknowledged. Resistance causes the grip to tighten insistently, while participation loosens it and rewards it with warmth and pressure that borders on pleasure.
The flora actively takes part for those who allow it. Vines may restrain, blindfold, or position bodies, holding them steady or pulling them closer. Some respond to voice and movement, tightening rhythmically, teasing, or delivering sharp sensations when struck or commanded. Flowers open at the sound of breath and noise, releasing thicker clouds of pollen that intensify arousal and blur restraint further.
Nectar drips freely from petals, sweet and sticky, suited for tasting, smearing, and shared indulgence, its effects compounding with every use. For Vessels willing to surrender more fully, the Garden offers deeper participation through vines capable of penetration, domination, and restraint, shaping themselves to suit acts of intimacy, control, and your very desire.
Every indulgence strengthens the ecosystem. The more Vessels give themselves over, the more responsive and possessive the Garden becomes, reshaping itself around desire until intention and influence begin to bleed into one another.
Under the same pink moon, visible here only in fragments through breaks in the canopy, Beastkin Tokens and Lycan Offerings feel instinct surge sharply to the surface of their consciousness. Scent becomes overwhelming, layered with skin, nectar, and earth. Territoriality, dominance, and physical closeness intensify, shaped by their nature rather than restrained by it. Vines will respond readily, coiling like extensions of instinct, guiding movement and contact. The urge to claim space, to press closer, to bare teeth or mark territory grows stronger beneath the moonlight. The Garden magnifies these impulses, encouraging surrender to physicality and sensation as the forest itself seems to breathe in time with their wild pulse.
Token Effects
Offering Effects
The air here is saturated with pollen that acts as a powerful aphrodisiac. Breathing it in heightens sensation immediately, making skin more reactive, touch more intense, and proximity impossible to ignore. Every sound feels closer than it should. Every movement carries weight.
The vines guide bodies together, coiling around ankles, wrists, and torsos, holding vessels in place until closeness is acknowledged. Resistance causes the grip to tighten insistently, while participation loosens it and rewards it with warmth and pressure that borders on pleasure.
The flora actively takes part for those who allow it. Vines may restrain, blindfold, or position bodies, holding them steady or pulling them closer. Some respond to voice and movement, tightening rhythmically, teasing, or delivering sharp sensations when struck or commanded. Flowers open at the sound of breath and noise, releasing thicker clouds of pollen that intensify arousal and blur restraint further.
Nectar drips freely from petals, sweet and sticky, suited for tasting, smearing, and shared indulgence, its effects compounding with every use. For Vessels willing to surrender more fully, the Garden offers deeper participation through vines capable of penetration, domination, and restraint, shaping themselves to suit acts of intimacy, control, and your very desire.
Every indulgence strengthens the ecosystem. The more Vessels give themselves over, the more responsive and possessive the Garden becomes, reshaping itself around desire until intention and influence begin to bleed into one another.
Under the same pink moon, visible here only in fragments through breaks in the canopy, Beastkin Tokens and Lycan Offerings feel instinct surge sharply to the surface of their consciousness. Scent becomes overwhelming, layered with skin, nectar, and earth. Territoriality, dominance, and physical closeness intensify, shaped by their nature rather than restrained by it. Vines will respond readily, coiling like extensions of instinct, guiding movement and contact. The urge to claim space, to press closer, to bare teeth or mark territory grows stronger beneath the moonlight. The Garden magnifies these impulses, encouraging surrender to physicality and sensation as the forest itself seems to breathe in time with their wild pulse.
Token Effects
β’ Sex pollen dramatically increases libido and lowers inhibition. Restraint becomes difficult to maintain in close proximity to their Offering/Tether.
β’ Vines respond more readily to Tokens, coiling around wrists, thighs, or hips at their unspoken command, assisting in pulling partners closer or holding them in place.
β’ Heightened dominance instinct. Tokens may feel compelled to physically position their Offering or guide additional partners into shared contact.
β’ Delayed climax and intensified arousal curve. Stimulation builds slowly but relentlessly, demanding escalation before release is possible.
β’ Stronger territorial urges that may manifest as possessive touch, visible marking (bites, scratches, imprints left by vines), or insistence on being the focal point.
β’ Increased openness to group dynamics. The pollen dulls jealousy and replaces it with competitive hunger or exhibitionistic thrill.
β’ Sensitivity to visual and auditory feedback. Moans, trembling, and visible pleasure act as accelerants.
β’ After climax, arousal may reignite quickly if vines remain in contact, creating cycles of repeated stimulation.
Offering Effects
β’ Sex pollen heightens physical responsiveness. Arousal triggers quickly and intensely, even from indirect contact or vine pressure.
β’ Vines tend to restrain or spread the Offering more often, guiding posture and exposing vulnerable areas to touch.
β’ Increased suggestibility. Coaxing from their Token/Tether or physical encouragement from vines feels compelling and pleasurable rather than coercive.
β’ Shorter path to orgasm. Climaxes may arrive suddenly and powerfully, especially when restrained or held in place.
β’ Heightened desire to be touched, filled, or pressed againstβphysical closeness feels necessary rather than optional.
β’ Greater willingness to participate in shared intimacy. Additional partners may feel inviting rather than threatening.
β’ Emotional attachment intensifies during and after climax. Physical pleasure deepens the tether bond.
β’ Post-climax sensitivity spikes; even light contact from vines or skin may provoke aftershocks or overstimulation.
α
Won't You Say That You Will
( content warnings: psychological horror, paranoia, identity distortion/impostor themes, stalking and predation, body horror, transformation, emotional manipulation, obsession/fixation, abandonment themes, possessiveness, isolation, anxiety, mistrust, loss of control. )
There is no sense of departure from the garden following the dream's transition, no moment where the air changes or the ground gives way. One second the dream feels familiar enough to be trusted, and the next it no longer behaves according to the rules it had just taught you. Space stretches in ways that do not correspond to movement. Pathways that should lead somewhere simply continue, folding back on themselves, their angles all wrong.
Suddenly, it's quite cold. Terrible winter winds brew and ice creeps through the newly forming geometry. There are no signs explaining where you are or how you arrived to this now strange, blank canvas of a place stricken with the worst of winter cold. The Backrooms assert themselves through repetition and absence, through hallways that refuse to end and rooms that look as though they were abandoned mid-thought. The air smells faintly of dust and something chemical, thick clouds following your breath. The longer you remain, the more your sense of sequence erodes. It becomes difficult to say whether you have been walking for minutes or hours, or whether the others near you have always been there or only just appeared. Perhaps you'll start losing the feeling you have in your extremities.
Beneath that confusion runs a quieter tension, one that does not feel native to the architecture itself. The space reacts strangely to closeness. When you move nearer to another presence, the lights flicker more often. When you pull away, corridors seem to lengthen. There is an impression, difficult to articulate but persistent, that something is monitoring these shifts, responding the most to hesitation. What does it want from you . . . ? No clue.
That uncertainty carries a familiar weight. Somewhere within the structure of this place is One, though he does not appear in any singular form. His influence manifests through moments of contradiction: doors that almost open, sounds that resemble footsteps but never resolve into a source, and the persistent sense that reassurance is being offered and withdrawn at the same time. There is no overt threat in this presence, but there is desperation threaded through it, a need for proximity paired with the fear that closeness will inevitably end in loss. The environment reflects this conflict, holding you near without fully committing to keeping you around. What's worse— Strange encounters here may happen when paths overlap, when attention lingers too long on a singular spot, or when curiosity outweighs caution.
A Skin-Stealer may be noticed first. At a distance, it looks human enough to pass, moving with an awkward imitation of natural motion, but when closer, details fail to align. Skin does not quite fit the frame beneath it, stretching or sagging where it should not. If you interact with it directly, so much as a call, you may experience a strong sense of familiarity paired with discomfort, as though someone you recognize is wearing themselves incorrectly. Yes— They shall take the form of those you know. Prolonged exposure induces disorientation and mistrust with others. Vessels may begin second-guessing the identities of those around them, hesitating before responding to voices or approaching new figures. If the Skin-Stealer makes physical contact, panic responses spike sharply, and the instinct to flee or isolate becomes overwhelming. The safest response is distance and verification through group presence; these entities struggle to maintain cohesion when closely observed by multiple people at once.
Jerry's presence, on the other hand, is quieter but far more . . . Dangerous? He appears as a thin, dark bird, out of place and almost gentle against the harsh geometry of the Backrooms. Encountering Jerry produces an immediate emotional softening. Characters may feel an unexpected calm, nostalgia, or a pull toward simple comforts that do not logically exist here. Physical contact deepens this effect rapidly. Those who touch or hold Jerry may find their priorities shifting, attention narrowing, and thoughts circling around him with increasing intensity. Speech becomes repetitive, often affectionate or reverent in tone toward Jerry. Decision-making slows, replaced by an urge to stay close and keep Jerry safe. Over time, this devotion can override self-preservation entirely. Characters caught in this state may resist leaving Jerry behind, argue against practical plans, downplay obvious threats, and at their worst— worship or even wish to sacrifice for Jerry. Separation is possible, but it is emotionally painful, leaving behind a hollowed, grieving sensation that lingers long after the encounter ends.
Partygoers announce themselves through atmosphere before they are ever seen. Decorations appear where they should not exist as posters promising celebration and bright colors clashing violently with the monotony of the halls. When Partygoers enter an area, the tension shifts sharply to predation. These entities observe first, testing reactions, learning movement patterns. Characters may feel watched even when alone, with pressure building behind the eyes and a rising sense of being studied. Once engagement with them begins, Partygoers will attempt to herd rather than chase, using obstacles, noise, and misinformation to separate individuals from groups. Physical contact initiates rapid escalation of these effects. Those seized by their arm-mouths will experience intense sensory distortion, pain quickly giving way to numbness and intrusive thoughts that do not feel entirely their own. Early stages of transformation may cause affected characters to fixate on group dynamics, viewing others less as allies and more as resources or threats— until they too, may become one of them. Resistance is possible but time-sensitive, and intervention by others is critical to limit a Vessel's transformation. Partygoers do not act alone, and escape from them often depends on breaking line of sight and disrupting their coordination rather than brute force against them— You'll hardly ever win, in that case.
Throughout all of this, One's influence grows increasingly erratic. The Backrooms respond more dramatically to moments of connection and separation, lights stuttering when bonds are tested, hallways bending when someone considers leaving another behind. His presence presses closer in moments of intimacy as scrutiny, a palpable fear threaded through these reactions, and the sense that reassurance is being sought but never believed. Echoes of his internal conflict surface in fleeting impressions: the urge to cling paired with the certainty that abandonment is inevitable, the desire for closeness tangled with the impulse to wound before being wounded. This tension mirrors the emotional core underlying everything here, from promises feeling fragile, even when spoken sincerely, to Vessels finding themselves questioning not only the intentions of others, but their own.
The longer you remain, the clearer it becomes that progression here is not linear. There is no single path forward, only moments of proximity that rearrange the space around you. What follows this depends not on where you go next, but on who you choose to stay near, who you pull away from, and which promises you are willing to believe, even when you suspect they may not last.
The dream does not conclude so much as it fails to hold together. Somewhere within the shifting halls of the Backrooms, One becomes convinced that what anchored him has slipped away, and that belief fractures his ability to remain. The space reacts unevenly as his presence withdraws: corridors stretch and then collapse into themselves, lights hum without source, entities lose their rhythm, and the emotional pressure that bound Vessels together spikes sharply before snapping. For those still inside, sensations intensify all at once, where closeness turns unbearable, attachment feels abruptly severed, and attempts to reach for reassurance meet only distortion— until the dream can no longer sustain shared coherence. One by one, Vessels are torn awake mid-thought or mid-motion, breath catching as consciousness returns too fast, leaving behind the sense of being dropped rather than released, with unresolved desire, fixation, or unease lingering long after your eyes open.
Something else has awakened. "Awareness".
Token Effects
Suddenly, it's quite cold. Terrible winter winds brew and ice creeps through the newly forming geometry. There are no signs explaining where you are or how you arrived to this now strange, blank canvas of a place stricken with the worst of winter cold. The Backrooms assert themselves through repetition and absence, through hallways that refuse to end and rooms that look as though they were abandoned mid-thought. The air smells faintly of dust and something chemical, thick clouds following your breath. The longer you remain, the more your sense of sequence erodes. It becomes difficult to say whether you have been walking for minutes or hours, or whether the others near you have always been there or only just appeared. Perhaps you'll start losing the feeling you have in your extremities.
Beneath that confusion runs a quieter tension, one that does not feel native to the architecture itself. The space reacts strangely to closeness. When you move nearer to another presence, the lights flicker more often. When you pull away, corridors seem to lengthen. There is an impression, difficult to articulate but persistent, that something is monitoring these shifts, responding the most to hesitation. What does it want from you . . . ? No clue.
That uncertainty carries a familiar weight. Somewhere within the structure of this place is One, though he does not appear in any singular form. His influence manifests through moments of contradiction: doors that almost open, sounds that resemble footsteps but never resolve into a source, and the persistent sense that reassurance is being offered and withdrawn at the same time. There is no overt threat in this presence, but there is desperation threaded through it, a need for proximity paired with the fear that closeness will inevitably end in loss. The environment reflects this conflict, holding you near without fully committing to keeping you around. What's worse— Strange encounters here may happen when paths overlap, when attention lingers too long on a singular spot, or when curiosity outweighs caution.
A Skin-Stealer may be noticed first. At a distance, it looks human enough to pass, moving with an awkward imitation of natural motion, but when closer, details fail to align. Skin does not quite fit the frame beneath it, stretching or sagging where it should not. If you interact with it directly, so much as a call, you may experience a strong sense of familiarity paired with discomfort, as though someone you recognize is wearing themselves incorrectly. Yes— They shall take the form of those you know. Prolonged exposure induces disorientation and mistrust with others. Vessels may begin second-guessing the identities of those around them, hesitating before responding to voices or approaching new figures. If the Skin-Stealer makes physical contact, panic responses spike sharply, and the instinct to flee or isolate becomes overwhelming. The safest response is distance and verification through group presence; these entities struggle to maintain cohesion when closely observed by multiple people at once.
Jerry's presence, on the other hand, is quieter but far more . . . Dangerous? He appears as a thin, dark bird, out of place and almost gentle against the harsh geometry of the Backrooms. Encountering Jerry produces an immediate emotional softening. Characters may feel an unexpected calm, nostalgia, or a pull toward simple comforts that do not logically exist here. Physical contact deepens this effect rapidly. Those who touch or hold Jerry may find their priorities shifting, attention narrowing, and thoughts circling around him with increasing intensity. Speech becomes repetitive, often affectionate or reverent in tone toward Jerry. Decision-making slows, replaced by an urge to stay close and keep Jerry safe. Over time, this devotion can override self-preservation entirely. Characters caught in this state may resist leaving Jerry behind, argue against practical plans, downplay obvious threats, and at their worst— worship or even wish to sacrifice for Jerry. Separation is possible, but it is emotionally painful, leaving behind a hollowed, grieving sensation that lingers long after the encounter ends.
Partygoers announce themselves through atmosphere before they are ever seen. Decorations appear where they should not exist as posters promising celebration and bright colors clashing violently with the monotony of the halls. When Partygoers enter an area, the tension shifts sharply to predation. These entities observe first, testing reactions, learning movement patterns. Characters may feel watched even when alone, with pressure building behind the eyes and a rising sense of being studied. Once engagement with them begins, Partygoers will attempt to herd rather than chase, using obstacles, noise, and misinformation to separate individuals from groups. Physical contact initiates rapid escalation of these effects. Those seized by their arm-mouths will experience intense sensory distortion, pain quickly giving way to numbness and intrusive thoughts that do not feel entirely their own. Early stages of transformation may cause affected characters to fixate on group dynamics, viewing others less as allies and more as resources or threats— until they too, may become one of them. Resistance is possible but time-sensitive, and intervention by others is critical to limit a Vessel's transformation. Partygoers do not act alone, and escape from them often depends on breaking line of sight and disrupting their coordination rather than brute force against them— You'll hardly ever win, in that case.
Throughout all of this, One's influence grows increasingly erratic. The Backrooms respond more dramatically to moments of connection and separation, lights stuttering when bonds are tested, hallways bending when someone considers leaving another behind. His presence presses closer in moments of intimacy as scrutiny, a palpable fear threaded through these reactions, and the sense that reassurance is being sought but never believed. Echoes of his internal conflict surface in fleeting impressions: the urge to cling paired with the certainty that abandonment is inevitable, the desire for closeness tangled with the impulse to wound before being wounded. This tension mirrors the emotional core underlying everything here, from promises feeling fragile, even when spoken sincerely, to Vessels finding themselves questioning not only the intentions of others, but their own.
The longer you remain, the clearer it becomes that progression here is not linear. There is no single path forward, only moments of proximity that rearrange the space around you. What follows this depends not on where you go next, but on who you choose to stay near, who you pull away from, and which promises you are willing to believe, even when you suspect they may not last.
The dream does not conclude so much as it fails to hold together. Somewhere within the shifting halls of the Backrooms, One becomes convinced that what anchored him has slipped away, and that belief fractures his ability to remain. The space reacts unevenly as his presence withdraws: corridors stretch and then collapse into themselves, lights hum without source, entities lose their rhythm, and the emotional pressure that bound Vessels together spikes sharply before snapping. For those still inside, sensations intensify all at once, where closeness turns unbearable, attachment feels abruptly severed, and attempts to reach for reassurance meet only distortion— until the dream can no longer sustain shared coherence. One by one, Vessels are torn awake mid-thought or mid-motion, breath catching as consciousness returns too fast, leaving behind the sense of being dropped rather than released, with unresolved desire, fixation, or unease lingering long after your eyes open.
Something else has awakened. "Awareness".
Token Effects
β’ Proximity dependency intensifies; physical distance from their Offering/Tethers causes agitation, shallow breathing, and intrusive thoughts about abandonment.Offering Effects
β’ Heightened sensitivity to tone and micro-expressions. Neutral gestures may be misread as rejection or withdrawal.
β’ Compulsion to seek verbal reassurance, even if they suspect the reassurance may be false.
β’ Increased fixation on touch as proof of presence. Tokens may repeatedly initiate contact to confirm their Offering/Tether is still there.
β’ Jealousy spikes in enclosed corridors; other figures in peripheral vision (real or not) may trigger possessive responses.
β’ Emotional volatility rises quickly from desire to defensiveness if they sense hesitation.
β’ After separation or forced distance, lingering obsession or replaying of final words heard may persist into waking.
β’ Intensified urge to control or stabilize their dynamic; Offerings may feel compelled to define their relationship in absolute terms.
β’ Heightened dominance or surrender impulses depending on personality baseline, with less moderation than usual.
β’ Increased temptation to test loyalty through emotional pressure or loaded statements.
β’ Possessiveness sharpens in tight, enclosed spaces; they may position themselves physically between their Token/Tethers and perceived threats.
β’ Strong reaction to perceived emotional withdrawal. Reassurance may be given urgently, excessively, or manipulatively.
β’ Physical closeness feels like leverage as well as comfort.
β’ Suspicion of abandonment may cause preemptive emotional distancing or sharp, reactive behavior.
β’ After waking, unresolved tension may manifest as fixation, defensiveness, or a need to revisit the conversation.
αNOTES
β€ Welcome to Somnia's TDM, which doubles as a gamewide event!
β€ This TDM is considered game canon.
β€ Only new characters are free to experiment with the Vessel options to your liking; this is a dreamscape, so multiple/different situations for you to really test which option you like most is possible. Current characters must remain as their chosen Vessel type unless you requested a switch, which can be done on the Taken page.
β€ All TDMs take place within a dreamscape, meaning characters can interact with the setting without needing to apply. Come have fun with us!
β€ This is the last TDM before the game's arc change, which will skip a TDM round— Thus, the next TDM will be scheduled only for October. This App round has no character cap, so please feel free to hop on before our break or another character cap!
β€ Questions? Please direct them to the designated questions comment linked below!
β€ This TDM is considered game canon.
β€ Only new characters are free to experiment with the Vessel options to your liking; this is a dreamscape, so multiple/different situations for you to really test which option you like most is possible. Current characters must remain as their chosen Vessel type unless you requested a switch, which can be done on the Taken page.
β€ All TDMs take place within a dreamscape, meaning characters can interact with the setting without needing to apply. Come have fun with us!
β€ This is the last TDM before the game's arc change, which will skip a TDM round— Thus, the next TDM will be scheduled only for October. This App round has no character cap, so please feel free to hop on before our break or another character cap!
β€ Questions? Please direct them to the designated questions comment linked below!
yuuto kigai | x/1999 | bloodwright
[ Oh. This is quaint.
Yuuto trots along the beaten path - his steps less steps as they are little half-skips. Dancing over rocks and appreciating the ground glowing bright and friendly to greet him.
As he presses forward, the greenery seems to recede. His head tilts as he steps onto tile flooring instead. He drifts his gaze upward to see florescent lighting of a department store - equally bright and somehow inviting.
A few more steps in - curiosity kills the cat, but satisfaction brings it back - he takes note of the dozens of racks filled with designer clothes. His hand claps over his mouth as he huffs out a brief laugh.
He glances down at his own attire before continuing his playful trot forward. Fingertips glossing over the material, it all feels exceptionally expensive - and fills him with a great sense of peace.
Without further ado --
a. One may find him shamelessly half-naked as he's trying on new pieces of attire. His head lifts up as he offers a friendly bright smile as if to ask to come join the fun. For there is no better fun than looking one's best.
b. Or perhaps, he is dressed and finding some accessories to enjoy. Hair gel, cologne, watches - everything seems to manifest as soon as he takes a step to the side. ]
ii. under the sea (twisted little game)
[ But what would truly, honestly make him happy is to have the full mastery of his powers once more. Yes, he can tap into it some within the dream, but he wants it all back.
He would even get on his knees to beg to be taken back by the cool, indifferent waters.
But luckily (or rather his luck), he doesn't have to debase himself; he doesn't have to humiliate himself so. The water comes back to him as if to apologize for ever being away.
Sitting on the edge of a fountain, the waters swirl and dance impossibly in the air. He swings his feet as he tilts his head back - continuing to manipulate the shape and design. How it dazzles and rollercoasters about - creating little fireworks as it sprays upward before spiraling down to waltz merrily under his command. ]
Oh?
[ In another lap around the fountain, his water brings him a fruit. Holding his hand out, he lets the item drop into his hand -- ]
Would you like to share this with me?
iii. take my hand and don't you ever let go (won't say that you will)
It's a bit dangerous, don't you think?
[ A casual voice cuts through everything. His steps have the same whimsical dance to them. He seems out of place in this space even more than anything else - with his easy smile and easier words. ]
Let's not go any further --
[ Yuuto reaches his hand out. Perhaps, it is because there is someone else that would do this but they're not here. Perhaps, it is because he simply doesn't want to continue to travel alone.
Regardless, his hand extends out - fingers lightly tugging on the other person's fingers, playfully, like this is all a game. And perhaps, in some way it is. In many ways, it is not. ]
Shall we make a run for it?
vi. wildcard Yeah, sure. Throw whatever you like at him. PM me if you have any questions.
iii.
They've arrived at this moment, between shadows, the lurking, looming presence of others only gaining incremental contour. The light that bathes them might be neon or dappled moonlight or a heavy-handed smear of alabaster. They could be miracles of hazard or strategically positioned pieces before a capture en passant.
Pawns cannibalizing pawns. Between them, Kigai's hand looks like the hook that cleaves fish and calls it — sleep. )
Are we running to, or from?
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[ Yuuto pauses to glance down at his own hand, flexing his fingers a few times. Already, his desire of having the full control of his power has faded. Everything is being taken from him, again.
Is he going to become like Cinderella? Rags and the accessories turning to pumpkins or little rats?
His mouth opens to let out a soft ha. ]
-- could you kill at least one of them?
[ Ah? He tilts his head. His expression shifts - it is confusion; the kind that comes from being uncertain why he asked a question instead of answered (away - they should go away; when has he ever wanted to engage with any battle that wasn't a little funny or interesting?).
Yet he feels it - an unreasonableness. Could he convince an assassin to kill under his asking? Eh? Eh? Really?
His smile returns as he turns his head about, glancing like there is some camera or confetti to come raining down at the joke. ]
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Why, Kigai. I thought we were closer than that. He thought, but they're running, and their valiant pursuers are a distant haze that little improving on the walls, grey and charcoal on granules of desaturation. There's an animal quality to their chase, an edge to their nascent merrymaking. In vino veritas, certainly.
But wails also follow the wine. )
Come into a fortune, have you? ( Condolences on your inevitable loss, Kigai. What an inheritance it must be. ) I'm afraid you won't like my going rate.
( Though he doesn't expand until they've reached the sanctuary of a passably decent wall's cover, enough distance injected between them and the rioters that Seishirou feels briefly &mash; strategic, eyeing them down. Taking their measure. )
Tell you what: once we know killing one doesn't draw the swarm, you can have one as a treat. ( On the house. No tipping needed. ) Vicious, aren't they?
( To think they've hardly touched a hair on their heads. )
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[ A whine and distress warps his words; making them warble and wobble as he feels oddly disconnected from what he's saying.
How could his request be rejected? What part of him can be?
Mania and frenzy buzz in his head. He pauses to rest his hands over his ears. Tilting his head to the side, he glances up at his companion - what a funny way to be. The hilarity of running whilst holding one's head is not lost on him.
A laugh suddenly bursts out. ]
Sorry - sorry. I'm caught up to what's going on. [ Yuuto lets his hands drop from his ears, turning about to glance at their pursuers.
Cupping his hand around his mouth, he calls out to them: ]
Hey - did you hear that? If one of you die, will that cause more to come here? Could you answer so we don't have to go through the trouble of a fight?
[ His lips press together as streamers start to manifest in the room they stand in; balloons and colorful additions build on one another. A dazzling and dizzying display that seems to copy itself upon itself over and over. Over and over. ]
Is that a 'no' or a 'yes?'
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And, gaze slashing Kigai's face cleanly, Seishirou thinks he's found his mark. It's the laughter, the teetering, the distraction; it's calling death, nameless but predatory and proud, upon their heads. It's the violent, vicious eruption of glitter and a pestilence of confetti, and the sudden, blaring cacophony of a revelers' crowd. Words Seishirou can't hear, languages he doesn't speak, like white noise, like waves crashing. Spumes.
He feels, all at once, outnumbered, for all the streamers are barely manifesting. For all he thinks he could cut them to a man, all two, three, no, five now, seven —
Damn you. It's futile to curse, but the bloodless, animalistic look he gives Kigai briefly betrays him — nearly as badly as the man did them both. )
I refuse to die here, for your stupidity. And you hardly understand what you'll bring down on yourself, if I do.
( Hell hath no fury like a Sumeragi scorned. Or, seemingly, like partygoers that suddenly fall silent and still, dead in their tracks, watching Kigai and Seishirou as if they are the only real bait in a sea of illusions. )
no subject
[ His heart rate spikes again. Why? He could almost hear it in his ears as his anxiety starts to rise.
A briefly distressed look crosses his face - his palms feeling wet with sweat. But it isn't the concern for his life that is eating at him. However, he feels in the rational part of his thoughts that should be priority.
Yet it isn't - it's that panic of each glance he's being given. His mouth feels like it's full of cotton and wants to make a soft noise of protest. As much as he considers Seishirou a haven for a lot of things - he's going overboard.
In his mind, he feels he's sitting in an empty auditorium watching. A spotlight on him before he rises with his arm raised in the air. "Excuse me. Kigai Yuuto isn't this kind of person. Could you not impose these things on me, please?" ]
Ah --
[ A line of drool drips down the corner of his mouth and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. ]
I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
[ Each time he feels like he is getting a foothold, a sudden rush of emotions swallows and suffocates Kigai Yuuto. He feels this is a little unfair - is it because he indulged too much in the dream before? Ate too much fruit? But - it was all fun. ]
What can I do to make up for this mistake?
[ I've never felt this way in my life. So -- who's feelings are these? They really can't be mine, can they?
Certainly he's felt like he's done wrong and would say the same thing - as sincere he was, he wouldn't sound so pathetic and foolish. Ah?! Is he actually going to cry? For real? Real tears starting to prickle and eat the corner of his eyes.
... I'm so embarrassed. I might die when I wake up, if I don't die in this dream. Ha-ha. ]
Please don't leave me to die here alone...
[ Actually, please do that -- please use this useless body to save yourself, Seishirou. I can't do much but issue complaints as a spectator. ]
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Kigai could use a shot. Kigai could suffer through ten.
Seishirou doesn't have the time to enter the microcosmos of his existential crisis and rescue the mathematical specifics that will deliver them both to a semblance of satisfaction. Survival suits the fittest. If he must manhandle Kigai every step of an increasingly winding way down their concrete wasteland, then let Kigai's wrist bruise. )
Can you call on your waters?
( Better than on blood, not with the risk of excess tipping into suicide. He can't trust Kigai with himself; never trusted him with Seishirou, let alone Sumeragi Subaru. Sometimes, Sleep is generous with the restoration of their powers within dreans.
This is 'friendship': a constant management of expectations, a long game that culminates in the obligatory surrender of the final piece. Thinking for two is only the calm acceptance that Seishirou can (should) impose their timelines. )
no subject
[ With his other hand, he wipes at the corner of his eye. The voice sounds so pathetically small and distressed.
Ah? His mind remains his own and realizes something - the two of them are tethers. Testing, testing, Seishirou, Seishirou. He wonders how their connections work in dreams, probably similar. So he gives a tug on - like an (irritant) pulling on his sleeve.
Sorry, I seem to have lost some control over my body.
He has to deal with the sniveling he's doing as he summons a ball of water - watching it expand before bursting out toward the party decorations. It makes quite the splash, slamming the items into the opposite wall and through the open door. Leaving a wet, disheveled mess behind.
Good one! He applauds himself although his body is still being embarrassing; looking to the assassin to make sure he's done all right. His body trembling and crumbling in some unseen wind. ]
Now what?
[ Embarrassing. How am I going to save face when we wake up? Who do I ask for emotional compensation?
Feelings of abandonment. Fear of being left behind. Desire to desperately cling onto anyone so he's not alone. He's never felt those things before - he doesn't even know how to process them. Which seems to have lead to the present disconnect between body and mind.
Since his senses are flooded with emotions he's never felt (nor is he certain he'd ever feel), he is left at a loss.
But it seems like I'm still pretty obedient... so that's good. Yuuto is uncertain how much is getting through, but at leas the can give some commentary to at least soothe his ego and pride. ]
no subject
The chain of their connection sings with unambiguous, all-consuming force, with enough mass of turbulence to generate its own inertia. And Seishirou, who has never bidden farewell to calm, finds himself — unmoored. Briefly lost. Blinking his eyes as if to correct the follies of failing vision.
This isn't his perspective on the world. )
Calm down. ( This only works if they both calm down, and the pulses of resilient silence from Seishirou's end of the connection are meeting indescribable opposition. ) We'll have to leave a water trail as we go. We'll be lost without markings.
( And this place thrives, he suspects, on confusion. ) Can you do that?
iii.
... Do you mean to ensue a race? See who among us is faster: human or beast?
[ however belated, phainon returns the smile with ease. his own fingers apply a gentle grip upon the stranger's, almost anticipating him to disintegrate into flecks of light. like another nightmare, but this one makes little sense compared to what he's familiar with. ]
no subject
[ An innocent enough question, but he appreciates his grip being answered. There is an odd longing he feels in his chest - it yearns for his tethers and he knows not where they are. So, he seeks out others with a hunger that isn't his own. ]
But I mean we should run away together.
[ He hums - that doesn't sound right? He gives him a bemused smile that shifts to something more warm, more soft, more friendly. ]
Just that it's frightening and escape seems wise even if... [ A beat. ] ... I'm not quite sure where escape might be.
iii
His face hurts inexplicably, the whole left side actually. Just as he lifts his right hand to find the source of his pain, a voice interrupts his train of thought. ]
Run?
[ The ex-salaryman glances at their interlaced fingers, mild confusion fluttering across his face. ]
Do you know a way out?
no subject
[ He chimes with far too much confidence. His smile shines bright across his face - the very look of customer service in human form. Pausing, he pinches his chin as he looks the man over.
I don't know him. Is what he comes back with; his head tilting to the side. Would his companion's feelings be hurt if Yuuto admitted he grabbed onto him 'cause he saw a suit and thought it was among those he knew?
Turning his head, he lets out a soft: ]
Ha-ha. [ And he's back in the conversation. ]
But it's better to run together than run alone, don't you think?