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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!
Ignis Scientia | FFXV | Token: Chronomancer | Current Player
(CW: Substance abuse-Caffeine, addictive behaviors, altered mental state,)
[Ignis doesn't see any of the garden's splendors when he appears in it. This wouldn't be the first time he's been "protected" so to speak, by his lost vision. Of course, that "protection" has never lasted long and he doubts that will be much different here.
He doesn't really notice the pollen either, but that is because his nose has caught the scent of something both deeply missed and wanted, especially since he's picked up his coffee drinking habit again.
Ebony.
At first, Ignis is confused because while he would expect trickery of all sorts in these dreams, he isn't expecting something so very specific--so very normal--to himself. Something that reaches deep and pulls so hard that his feet are moving in the direction of the smell before he can stop himself. Each step he takes, he tries to find reason why he shouldn't take it. He knows better.
He knows better, but he can't bring it in himself to care. Deep down, he really wants this one thing. This one seemingly innocent thing from home that he really misses, especially since it had been a while since he had any even before being brought here.
Is it because helping those at the Crosby Hotel the last little while has fulfilled him in a way that he hasn't felt fulfilled in for along time? Not since he helped Lortel shortly after they all first arrived here anyway. He felt at home away from home once arriving at the hotel. It had taken him time to realize that was what he was feeling, but it was there. He would have thought he would feel that way once Noctis arrived after his presence being teased for so long in Sleep's dreams, but with his king pushing him away, instead of finding that familiarity, he found something completely unexpected instead. He found more pain. He may understand the reasoning behind Noctis' behavior, but it still hurt more deeply than Ignis had been prepared for. Taking care of people like he has for most of his life soothed that pain. It made him want for the simple things he'd once had back before Insomnia fell. He wanted that one thing that was really his; he wanted his Ebony. Regular coffee just wasn't the same, especially the old and stale grounds and beans he had found.
By the time Ignis' feet stop and his hand comes to rest on the surface of what could only be called a bar, he has stopped trying to figure out the logic behind it all. The warning voice usually always at work at the back of his head has fallen silent, muffled by the need for this one normal thing in this very abnormal environment.
Ignis fingers creep across the top of the bar, and unsurprisingly, come into contact with an ice cold, slim can that settles into them as if it's always been there.
Ebony, coffee as black as his heart as he likes to tell people. Of course, it comes in many different types, but this one flavor? It's where he started. It only makes sense he would begin here again.
Anyone else who happens to follow the smell of their favorite coffee to the little bar will find Ignis leaning against it, more content and relaxed than anyone will remember seeing him, a growing number of cans littering the top of the bar behind him. Who needs all the wild and crazy things that might be going on elsewhere?
All he needs is this.]
Won't You Say That You Will: How's the Heart? - Nightwish
(CW: Mental manipulation, emotional manipulation, possessive behavior, obsession, isolation, possible violence.)
[When the comfort and familiarity of the Garden are ripped away with an ice cold hand, Ignis can't find himself surprised. Even the fading, warm memory of the Garden does nothing to push away the cold. Indeed, it only serves to increase Ignis' irritation.
He knew better. He really did.
Ignis isn't quite stalking around the new area he has been dumped in, but he is obviously displeased with the situation and it shows in his stance. There is nothing. Literally nothing around anywhere to give him a clue what he is suppose to be doing or where he should be going. Even the Murmur seems unusually quiet. If there is anything, it is there and gone just like any presences he senses. Nothing lingers. Nothing stays.
Until something does.
The presence is small, weak. At first, Ignis thinks he's imagining it. It wouldn't be hard to do so considering how very empty this place is, but no. It's actually there and Ignis can't help but feel the sharpness of his irritation and frustration falling away as he nears the source. He's not alone anymore and that's a relief.]
This really isn't the kind of place to meet, is it?
[There is no response, but Ignis isn't bothered. There are always newcomers in these dreams and even the non-violent ones can be enough to shake them to their very cores. The presence is there, and in fact, seems to strengthen just slightly as he pays it attention. That is a positive in his opinion.
Ignis is about to ask another question when a memory crosses his mind. He's not sure what draws it there. Is it because this presence reminds him something of a child? Perhaps...
"Iggy! I found another one! Come look!"
A small simile crosses the face of a much younger Ignis when he hears the voice of his prince. Yet another animal has managed to wander into the garden and no doubt his beloved Noctis will want to adopt just like he has so many others. The small prince would own a zoo worth of animals if he were allowed to keep them all.
Quick steps take Ignis to his beaming prince's side and Noctis wastes no time holding out his arms as if to present the animal to him, "It's a flamfi... No, uh..flamigat... No, ah! You know what I mean! And look, it's black just like our family colors!"
A "flamingo" is what he means. It's odd. Noctis usually finds cats, not animals that live far away from Insomnia. Perhaps it's an escaped pet from a visiting dignitary?
Before young Ignis can try to logic out what is going on any farther, his excited prince's voice is breaking into his thoughts again.
"Look! It's as tall as me! It must be a baby still. Dad says they can get up to five foot tall in some places! I wonder how it walks on such long legs."
As if he thinks Ignis needs an example of what he means, Noctis then waddles around in a circle, trying to get his short child legs to work as long ones might. Honestly, Ignis is pretty sure nothing in creation walks like that, but he isn't going to damper his friend's enthusiasm by saying so.
Oddly enough, though, Noctis enthusiasm suddenly does fade, and he kneels down by the strange black bird motioning for Ignis to do the same, "I think he might be hurt, Iggy. All these feather are smooth and soft, but here isn't. Can you fix him?"
There are few things that Ignis will deny Noctis, and this is certainly not one of them so he kneels by the animal and takes a close look at its wing. Indeed, it seems that some feathers have been roughed up and a few have been pulled out.
"Maybe he found a cat!" Noctis doesn't really wait to hear Ignis opinion, quickly voicing his own instead. "We have to protect it until we find out where it belongs. It's black like me. It's important."
There is a strange stuttering to the memory here, though instead of jarring Ignis back to himself, it seems force him to focus on the words "It's important." They repeat over and over in Noctis' young voice.
It's important.
It's important.
It's important.
I'm important.]
Yes, you are, aren't you?
[Ignis isn't really aware of having spoken aloud. Instead, he's focused on running his fingers over the feathers on the wing he's gently holding. There is no wound here as there was in the memory, but damage has been done nonetheless. Ignis has a command he must fulfill. One he cannot forget because Noctis' young voice keeps repeating it over and over in his head.
Carefully, he releases Jerry's wing, then moves to remove his blindfold and tuck it into one of his pockets. The Murmur has been useless so far, so there is no need to remain connected to it and risk it distracting him from the order he's been giving.
He has to protect. It's important. There is really nothing else that needs to be considered.
Ignis raises his arm, resting his fist over his heart and bowing his head in a traditional Lucian gesture of deep respect. For one of the first times since arriving here, both of his eyes open, their milky orbs laser-focused and stern.]
The Flamingo Guard is reporting for duty. It may only be one, but that soon will change.
Wildcard:
[Feel free to throw a wildcard at me if you wish to. Just nothing NSFW, please.]
play a twisted little game
Under ordinary circumstances, he would have approached the little bar with more caution. A convenient temptation in the middle of a dream should be suspicious. A stranger's drink should be refused. A beautiful garden offering exactly what someone wants should be treated like a trap.
Unfortunately, the air is warm, the pollen is sweet, and the espresso waiting for him is perfect.
By the time he finds Ignis at the bar, Nicola already has a small porcelain cup in hand. The coffee is dark, rich, and far better than anything he expected to find in Manhattan. That alone seems enough to soften the sharp edges of his judgment.
He recognizes Ignis before he gets too close and slows his steps accordingly, letting the sound of his approach announce him. Nicola has been too preoccupied with other matters to interact with Ignis much since the other man came to the hotel, but perhaps this is as good an opportunity as any to fix that. His gaze passes briefly over the growing number of cans, and quiet amusement warms his expression.]
I should have known another Crosby resident would be the one to find the best hiding place in the Garden.
[He takes the seat nearest to Ignis without crowding him, relaxed in a way that would be almost suspicious if the rest of the dream were not already so determined to make suspicion feel unnecessary.
Nicola lifts his cup, breathing in the espresso's scent with visible appreciation before taking another sip. A soft, satisfied laugh follows.]
I hope you don't mind sharing it.
no subject
Since he does hear the young man's approach, tragedy is averted and Ignis greets Nicola with a warm and open smile. Few people get to see him with his guard so thoroughly down, and for once he looks his actual age of 22 years--give or take however much time has passed since he's been here, that is. Ignis has no idea. It's far too easy for him to lose track of time in this place.]
Of course you can. Far be it for me to deny the good taste of another. This is rather perfect isn't it? I'm not very inclined to look for another drink besides this, but the selection can't be faulted for that. We all have our vices. What do you have there? Am I smelling espresso?
no subject
But the thought arrives slowly, muffled by the sweet air and the rich taste lingering on his tongue.
Besides, Ignis looks content.
Nicola takes another sip from the small cup, then gives a quiet laugh.]
Espresso, yes. It seems I'm predictable even in dreams, but you sound like a man reunited with an old friend. I'd like to know what Ebony is.
won't you say that you will
Lucifer didn't remember everything about his last encounter with Jerry. It was a haze- he was bored and craving mischief, so he took a lot of items that didn't belong to him. Then- black feathers, and atender beak were all he could recall.
And... Everything he had taken, bits and baubles that reminded him of people that he cared about, was gone.]
Damn garden ornament,
[He cursed when he finally spotted Jerry, with Ignis nearby, and hopped down to the ground from the top of the garden wall that he had been walking on. The landing was heavier in sound from usual, as he was wearing his boots and coat that he wore as part of his role as General of the Devil's Army.
He scoffed. And, more loudly, he added: ]
I see you got Ignis, too. Oh, what are we gonna do?
no subject
It's a shame his mind is so focused on protecting the bird beside him that he completely misses the undertone of "I'm so done with this" that accompanies Luci's words. Instead, he merely answers the question as if it had been seriously asked.]
The only answer to that question is to join me so I can more easily carry out my orders, of course. Your great power would certainly be a boon to the Flamingo Guard.
no subject
[He started slowly walking in a circle, carefully keeping track of both Ignis and the Bird.]
I keep forgetting what kinda bird he is. We didn't have them on Ente Isla.
[The tone was conversational, with an underlying edge of irritation that masked his worry. Lucifer knew from the way Ignis was speaking that the Bird had already worked it's magic.
And- he couldn't find his friend on the Murmur.
This wasn't going to be easy.]
Did you happen to notice anything small and metal, kinda leaf shaped, nearby? I took it from the Professor back in the Garden and it went missing.
I need to get it back.
Won't You Say That You Will
The memory soothed some of those fears as he watched the younger versions of his two friends with a small smile. His attention shifted sharply to the small black bird when young Noctis said it was injured. He knew it was just a memory but he felt a strong need to protect the fragile little thing, so much so that he didn't question it when Ignis cut the connection to The Murmur and Jerry didn't fade with the memory.
It didn't matter. He wouldn't lose anyone else. He would protect Jerry and ...his glowing eyes faintly flickered with the quiet tug in his soul as Ignis slipped through his mind like sand but he couldn't afford to let anything distract him. He needed to protect Jerry, even if he had to become someone he swore he never would.
The soft glow of his eyes sharpened with a fierce determination as he joined Ignis.]
Make that two.
no subject
[Ignis doesn't seem surprised that his friend has joined him. Instead, it sounds as if he expected it and is delighted that his expectations have been met. No one has been more trusted and true to him since arriving, and there is no one else he would rather have at his side helping him to protect someone so important.
Unerringly, Ignis finds Sirius' shoulder and gives it a tight squeeze.]
I cannot express how happy I am that you have arrived! Between you and I there are surely none who can stand against us.
[The power of Wraith. The power of the Stars. The power of Time. The power of the Kings. What could even comes close to matching it all?]
twisted game;
The landscape itself looks like something one could only encounter in a fantasy novel or after partaking in a few illicit substances. Not even the Dreamscape in Penacony had this much emphasis on florals, though he thinks it might have been more inviting if it had. ]
Are you all right?
[ He can't help noticing Ignis' present hyper-fixation on his drink, or perhaps his mind is simply elsewhere at the moment? Nothing he can blame Ignis for given their present circumstances. If he wants to disassociate for a while and enjoy his coffee, who is Sunday to stop him, though he does spot a few bottles of SoulGlad on the same barstand, coaxing him to come closer and slide into the stool next to him. ]
I do apologize if I am interrupting anything. I was simply feeling a bit parched myself.
Play a twisted little game
To be fair he would still have been lost if not for Ardyn's presence pulling him from his dreamlike state earlier. Sadly his nerves are shot so when the bitter brew floating upon the air Prompto is not impressed. It's only hardwon practice of faking his smiles which allows him to move jauntily and seek out the latest victim of this place.
"IGGY?"
Oh no! No no HELL NO, Bahamut's Scaly Balls Ignis does NOT deserve whatever the hell this place is doing.
Prompto's smile is strained as he steps close to Ignis, not touching him in case he's lost in his thoughts.
"Iiiiiggy, watcha got there buddy?"
It's an answer he doesn't need since the coffee is all too familiar. There's too many memories attached to the stark can of Ebony.