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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!
β₯ Green Room (you already know), CW: NSFW
[Still, this is all just a waiting game in the end. Eventually, one of them will make their move, and as the Sin wraps his hand (one finger at a time, ticked sharp by the tips of his claws) around a heavy-bottom helping of scotch, he winds his way through the breathlessness. Through the sensations of shoulders, round curves, and the wet slick of tits that feel more like rose petals than skin.]
[The room in question isn't hard to find. Every man has his kingdom, and this one is Johnny's. A closed off sanctuary, soaked in the aftermath of sweat, and as the Sin tests the door with his pinkie, a low curl plays coy on his lip; his internal temperature, meeting something like a kindred spirit under the closed, bottom edge.]
[Greed toes the door open, lifting his glass knowingly to his mouth. The fact that the man already has company doesn't shock him at all. Hell, it hardly even earns anything more than a slow arch of his eyebrow as he levels the brim of his drink close to his teeth. Not touching, not yet. He'd rather savor the moment. The tangle of bodies and Johnny's incessant bullshit, wrapping together in complete and utter harmony.]
[The Sin purses his lips.] Mn. Dunno. Seems like you're pretty occupied to me. [He leans into the frame (a cant, leaving his shoulder in one corner, and his heels planted firm in the other).] And, if I recall, you made your point pretty clear last time, hmn? [Now, he takes a pull; the rattling of ice between the rich, smokey scotch, digging itself down the smooth bounce of his throat.]
[Greed tests the tip of his tongue at the corner of his smile.] Unless, of course, you've changed your mind. Wouldn't be the first time. [He unravels, then. The bump of his shoulder pries off its perch, and his ankles go slack - the movement of him, unhurried and sluggish.] I could always just stick around, see if one of your friends there might be interested. [Like a big cat on the prowl, the Sin drops his glass off on a short-stack table nearby, leaving it to drip itself honeyed in a gradually forming puddle.]
[His eyes dip behind his sunglasses (down the entanglement of legs, up ambiguous thighs), and a sandy skirt of black teases out from the collar of his shirt.] Though, it'd be a shame, really, if I interrupted such a good, fucking show.
[A spare chair finds itself on the toe of his boot, and he viciously jerks it out with a snap of his leg, forcing it to skate along the floor like a carpet burn. Greed settles into it, reaching long for his glass, and his free hand pulls down his sunglasses.]
[And oh. Oh, if there could ever be a look so full of sin, sin, sin.]
[The former homunculus throws his head back, and what little remains of his ice chips itself thin between his teeth. He swipes his wrist across his chin.] Care to introduce me, at least?
CW: perma-NSFW from this point on
At least Greed is putting in the steps to resolve this readily apparent problem by coming closer, reducing the gap between them with his usual arrogant pace, each step long enough to fit several pounding heartbeats between them. And then he has the gall to not join them on the couch?
The plant-groupies inch out of the way so that Johnny can stand up from his slouched seat. It turns out that he's jacked in here, too, with the weighty, thick cable disappearing behind the back of the couch. It has enough slack that it follows behind him like a fat tail burdened by its own girthiness as he closes the last few inches between him and Greed, stepping around the corner of a table full of a king's bounty of booze, illicit substances, sex toys, prophylactics, and lube. Barely any of it has been touched; he'd just finished performing, after all.
Their knees touch.
Of all of the things that have tumbled out of the former homunculus's mouth, only one keeps reverberating in his head: Unless, of course, you've changed your mind. Has he changed his mind? It doesn't really feel like it. Greed is drawing him in the same way he always has: with alcohol, with shelter, with companionship, with trust. It never felt just cerebral, there was always a touch of physicality to it, an element that laid itself thick and heavy and warm and welcome in his chest, and...he's pretty sure that it has absolutely nothing to do with their tether. Something about it feels too familiar, chips of sensations stuck in the crust around the seals trapping in encoded memories.
As his head wrings these thoughts out of his mind, the cable behind him writhes like a snake with its own spine, bunching up and looping around itself, never quite snagging or tangling. If anything, it's only giving him more slack to move around with if and when he needs it.]
Thought you were payin' attention. Can't change my mind if I don't know what's in it.
[The whole reason for the season, as far as Johnny's particular projects are concerned.]
All I know for sure, right now...
[One warm hand reaches out, tipped with black-painted nails. It dives between his neck and collar, but it doesn't stop there. His fingers keep snaking down, past Greed's shoulder to the bare skin on his back.]
...is that I want the touch of your skin too much to be that fuckin' picky.
[He doesn't have any direct control over the plant-groupies, but they're tapped into his intentions, responding to his wavelength. And as he finishes explaining himself, they all get up from their spots and start crowding Greed's peripheral space. Their own leads also feed out from behind the couch, much thinner but far more numerous than Johnny's. While Johnny is sliding his own warm hand down Greed, the groupies are feeding their own, chlorophyll-chilled hand-analogues up his jacket, opening a chasm of contrast between the two fronts.]
CW: perma-NSFW from this point on (kazoos straight to hell)
[And it's clear, here, exactly what Johnny is looking for.]
[He doesn't even have to say it. Not that he's bothered by the man, once again, running his mouth stupid. It's one of the parts (one of the many, many parts) he's come to appreciate about Johnny. There's an honesty to his words that's biting. A truth to him that's quiet, deaf to most, but one he's heard more than once. A song that hasn't yet written itself to the fullest, but somehow still finding some of its parts between their tether.]
[It's not the groupies he cares about though, their touch does have him arching his back, tipping their pawing hands away from the brunt of his arrays. Those, he'll save. A little treat for the man who needs it most. Because, selfish as he is, there is something too, entirely pleasing when that nature of his finds its common place. And Johnny, well.]
[Is he speaking the language only avarice and avarice alone can know.]
[The former homunculus rocks into Johnny's hand, biting back a hiss at the back of his teeth that's all smoke and no scotch, and the chains hanging off his jacket ring themselves loud enough to make up for his sudden lack of wingspan.] Mn. I always pay attention. But I need to hear it, Silver. Can't always rely on people, and there's those rules of mine, and all. [The spread of his legs is as languid and slow as molasses; the way his knees stretch, peeling his thighs wide open, as the wet of his leather skips itself along the chair with a whine.]
[He leans forward, and the breath that snakes out of him is every bit his namesake. Serpent, vile. Monster, devil. He has a list, one that he's cultivated over the years, and they're all true.] Ah, but you know me. Need a little give and take, hmn? [His head tips, cold-blooded, leaving the reforming split of his tongue inches off Johnny's neck; its growing forks, sparking and hissing with an electric run terribly red.]
[He hasn't shown Johnny everything. Hasn't even come close. But tonight, maybe, he will.]
[Greed snaps his wrist, throwing the hook of his middle finger into one of the man's beltloops.] Picky? Should I take that personally, or are you just running your mouth for the sake of hearing your own bullshit. [One yank, one pull, and he tries to guide him into his lap. Any company they have gets ignored for the time being. The press of them, barely registering at the back of his skull. No, all he really wants is his. And now, he has Johnny right where he fucking wants him.]
[Johnny's hand strikes over one of the arrays targeted at the base of his neck, and the former homunculus lets out a growl that teeters on jittering. Like a pipe, shaking its weight in humidity.] Or maybe, you're finally catching on. What I am. What I really am. [An inhale drags behind his teeth, sucking itself quiet with a pleased, sultry purr.] I want everything. Everything you can possibly think of. And that includes you, handsome.
[Johnny's body so close, he tests his limits, if only for a second. With a rise of his hips as he meets his, grinding and screaming bone on bone as harsh as a record, scratching its needle.] So, why don't you show me. That need of yours. [Again, his stomach rolls, pushing the imprint of his cock against any part of Johnny it can find.] That want. Call it our own, little equivalent exchange.