#vessel headcanons

[septemberofgenders]

Uhm. Vessel headcanon/personal design be upon ye. I don't know.

[moonlitbite]

rough issues with my ptsd today, thinking about 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 instead. not proofread. mentions of ptsd symptoms under the cut.

(it feels like i'm giving you guys a piece of my soul sometimes)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who is painfully aware of his own body around you. not in a confident way -- more like he's constantly checking himself. am i standing too close? am i blocking the door? am i making things worse? he keeps his hands folded in his lap, fingers worrying at each other, until you're the one who reached out first. when you do, he freezes for half a second before relaxing, like his brain finally caught up with permission.

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who is terrified of doing the wrong thing when you shut down. he's read about it. watched videos. taken notes in his head. but when it actually happens, he still feels twelve years old and wildly under qualified. so he does the only thing he's sure won't hurt you -- he stays. sits nearby. keeps his voice low. asks simple questions you can answer or ignore. do you want me here? should i get you water? and if you don't respond, he doesn't panic. he just waits.

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who blushes every time you thank him for being patient, because to him it doesn't feel like effort. it feels like second nature. like when he's locked into a game and everything else fades out. you're not a chore. you're the objective. and he'd rather take it slow and do it right than rush and mess it up.

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who gets shy about affection but doesn't hide it. he'll hover before sitting next to you, then blurt out, "is this okay?" even though you've been together long enough that you know the answer. you tease him for it. he blushes every single time.

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who learns that grounding works much better when it's shared. sitting on the floor with you, back against the couch, naming things you can see -- not like an exercise, but like a game. okay, five things. i'll start. your socks. that weird crack in the wall. the controller i keep forgetting to charge. he smiles when you add one. like that alone means you're coming back.

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who falls for you slowly and a little helplessly. not in sweeping declarations -- those scare him. but in small, undeniable ways. the way he saves your preferred seat. the way he texts home safe? every time. the way he says, awkward but sincere, i don't really know what i'm doing, but i want to keep trying -- with you. and somehow, that feels safer than any promise.

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who has to earn -- slowly -- that your fear isn't about him, even when it flares in response to closeness. that intimacy can trigger alarms instead of comfort. that progress doesn't look linear. he messes up sometimes. takes withdrawal personally. gets quiet. then feels awful when he realizes you were struggling, not pulling away from him.

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who reassures you badly at first, in the most endearing way. not with poetic speeches -- more like, "uh, just so you know, i'm not mad. at all. like. zero percent mad." he'll say it three times in different ways, just in case your brain is looking for loopholes. by the third one, you're smiling despite yourself.

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who treats your progress like a shared win. when you do something hard -- stay present, speak up, rest without guilt -- he doesn't make it dramatic. he just grins and says, "hey. look at you. that was really brave." and somehow that feels better than applause.

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who makes happiness feel allowed. not fragile. not temporary. just...there. built out of small jokes, careful love, and the quiet confidence that neither of you has to be perfect to be safe together.

[shoardny]

The Eepies on a Roadtrip (headcanons)

a/n: went to visit family for christmas and it was quite the drive and it turned out to be inspo hehe merry christmas/happy holidays!

II: the designated driver who yaps, has the car packed with everything and anything they could need (drinks, snacks, phone cords, chargers, neck pillows, a blanket, shades—you name it), has the best and funniest stories that crack everyone up while he drives

Vessel: driver's right hand man, feeds the driver, not necessarily the navigator bc II has the GPS on and studied the route beforehand, in charge of the aux and everyone is happy with it

IV: seated behind II, sleeps most of the way through with his head on III's shoulder or lap, when awake stares out the window and points out animals if he sees any, the final decider on where to stop over/where to drive thru/what to eat and everyone goes with that with no arguments

III: seated right behind Vessel, gets the conversation going when II starts it, eats most of the snacks, "are we there yet?", initiates the road trip games, gets really restless being seated for a long time and that's why IV sleeps on him

[darksideoftheshipps]

Will/Vessel headcanons

EN/CZ

EN

I wrote it originally in Czech to our group chat and I decided to share it here with you.

⚠️ I helped myself with Google translator a little bit ⚠️

I have to share a few headcanons, which should be spread in the name of Sleep 🙏🏻

So.. Will is terribly energetic and hyperactive. Such a bundle of ADHD. But when he gets under Vessel's hands, he is as tame as a lamb. Because Vessel will force him to calm down. Vessel usually pins him (to anything, to the bed, to the wall, to the ground...) and gently squeezes Will between his legs or around his neck with his BIG palm. Vessel prefers a light choke first and then the second part. 🍆💦

Will never says "daddy" but "papi"

Vessel loves Will's hair (especially when it's dyed blonde or pink) and shows it quite often by pulling on them.

If Vessel decides for dirty talk, it's never as explicit and vulgar, or it certainly seems more "polite" than from the others.

Example: Vessel would not say: "Can you just shut up, and suck my cock, bitch" but "It would be better for you if you would be quiet and worship your god. On your knees Will. Now."

CZ

Musím se podělit o headcanons, které by měly být šířeny ve jménu Sleepa 🙏🏻

Takže.. Will je strašně energický a hyperaktivní. Takový uzlíček ADHD. Ale když se dostane Vesselovi pod ruce, je krotký jako beránek. Protože ho Vessel donutí k tomu, aby se sklidnil. Většinou ho přišpendlí (k čemukoliv, k posteli, ke zdi, k zemi...) a svojí VELKOU dlaní ho jemně stiskne mezi nohama, nebo okolo krku. Vessel nejdříve preferuje lehký přiškrcení a až pak tu druhou část. 🍆💦

Will neříká "daddy" nikdy, ale "papi"

Vessel miluje Willovo vlasy (hllavně když jsou obarvené na blond, nebo na ružovo) a dost často to dáva najevo tím, že mu za ně tahá.

Pokud se Vessel rozhodně pro dirty talk, nikdy není tak explicitní a vulgární, rozhodně to působí víc "slušněji" než u ostatních.

Příklad: Vessel by neřekl "Can you just shut up, and suck my cock, bitch" ale "It would be better for you if you would be quiet and worship your god. On your knees Will. Now."

[mrslittletall]

"I still think about how they eat#and have the most hilarious creepy hcs about it" would u care to elaborate? 👀

Oh, gladly!So I am writing a story where PK is “Fuck this shit, I won’t sacrifice my own child” and even though I made Hollow eat in this fic, PK actually doesn’t have a clue how they are doing it. Having no mouth and all...So I thought a bit about it and then got the hilarious mental image that they would eat like Noface from Spirited Away. You know, just opening a mouth on their chest and stuff the food in and from there it gets passed to their void digestive system. Or.. and I like this idea even more... void tendrils that grab the food and then just slowly absorb them in their body, all while their face is that unemotive mask. Everyone who sees this progress is actually terrified because, well, normal bugs don’t just shapeshift their body to eat. 

[moonlitbite]

i’m in love with your soft!token stuff, and i was wondering if you could do soft!token with a neurodivergent reader/partner? the neurodivergence doesn’t have to be specific, but i think it’s a cute idea :)!

hi there lovely! i'm so glad you asked for this! in case we didn't know, i am actually very heavily autistic, and find a lot of comfort in knowing that others would like to see scenarios like this! makes me feel a little less alone. i might have gotten a little carried away while writing, so i hope it isn't too long, but these are very close to my heart so i simply couldn't help myself.

Interestingly enough, i already have a vessel imagine that i wrote on a bad day where i was extremely overstimulated from moving, and you can find that here.

i hope you enjoy the rest of these headcanons <3 thank you for being here.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who never asks you to explain what you're feeling until you're ready -- and even then, only if you want to. he sits with you in silence, hands resting, palms-up on his lap like he's offering something sacred. when you're overwhelmed, when the world is too loud or too fast or too bright, he becomes the opposite -- a steady rhythm in the static. "you don't have to speak it," he says once, his thumb brushing the back of your hand. "just let me be here." and he is. for however long you need.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who notices the way you stim and treats it like second nature -- not something to fix, just something to learn. if you bounce your leg, he adjusts his rhythm to match it. if you twist a ring or flick your fingers, he watches with the same reverence he gives to candlelight or sheet music. and if anyone ever stares, ever whispers, ever asks "why do they do that?" -- he simply says, "because it helps." no shame. no explanation owed.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who keeps a quiet record of the things that soothe you -- and learns how to give them without needing to ask. he notices the fabrics you touch in stores. the hum you make when you're calm. the way your shoulders drop when a certain instrument plays. he collects them like sacred artifacts. so on the days your senses are frayed and your chest is tight, he already has the softest blanket waiting, your favorite cup at the right temperature, and a playlist of layered, low sounds looping quietly in the background. he doesn't say "i hope this helps." he just places them in your hands and whispers, "i've got you."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who sits behind you in bed while you infodump about something you thought no one cared about. he folds his arms loosely around your waist and rests his cheek between your shoulder blades, nodding gently with every fact, every tangent. he doesn't ask follow-ups just to keep the conversation going. he asks because he wants to know. because watching your hands move and your words speed up feels like watching a sunrise happen inside a person. when you go quiet, embarrassed, he just squeezes your hips and says, "keep going. i like the way you light up."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who knows your mask and never holds it against you. he sees when you put on the smile. hears the shift in your tone. watches you nod even when the noise is too much, the lights too bright, your brain too fast and too slow at the same time. later, in the dark, when it's just you and him and no more pretending, he pulls you into his chest and murmurs, "i saw how hard you tried today." not as pity. not as reward. just recognition. and it makes your breath catch, how safe it feels to be seen.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢 who reads your schedule before his own. he knows routine is your scaffolding -- so he builds around it. texts you reminders before the things you forget. walks you through steps when your executive function flatlines. never makes you feel like you're "too much." and when plans change last-minute, and your chest gets tight with panic, he crouches in front of you and says, "breathe. we'll build a new plan. together."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢 who reminds you it's okay to not get it right the first time. when executive dysfunction fogs your mind and basic tasks pile up, he doesn't guilt you for dishes left undone or laundry still in the machine. instead, he rolls up his sleeves, presses a kiss to your temple, and says, "let's do one thing. just one. together." sometimes that's enough to break the freeze. sometimes it isn't. but either way, he stays. no judgement, just presence.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢 who learns the rhythm of your shutdowns like a second language. he can read the microshifts in your posture, your silence, your stare. so when you go nonverbal, or when touch feels like too much, he doesn't push. he moves slowly. texts instead of talks. keeps his distance without leaving the room. and when your fingers twitch toward his later, he's already there, lacing them together like nothing was ever wrong.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢 who makes lists for you in his handwriting because he knows it calms you down. he doesn't color-code them. doesn't overwhelm you. just simple, grounded tasks in his steady, slightly slanted print:

drink water.

eat something warm.

text me if you get stuck.

remember i love you.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢 who builds routines around your comfort. he doesn't just follow your structure -- he honors it. "same dinner?" he texts you every thursday before you even remember the day. lines up your vitamins on the counter in color-coded order. never rearranges your desk unless you ask. and when things inevitably shift or fall apart, he kisses your knuckles and says, "let's rebuild it. same way we did before."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who treats your special interests like treasure maps. he lights up every time you start info-dumping, even if he doesn't understand a word. he asks questions just to hear you light up. if you love frogs, suddenly there's frog keychains. if you love mythology, he's quoting obscure trivia like it's common knowledge. and when you start to apologize -- "sorry, i'm rambling" -- he frowns like you've insulted a gift. "you're sharing the best parts of your brain with me," he says. "don't stop."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who makes you playlists for every sensory mood. "head's too loud?" "lights too sharp?" "need to disappear for a bit?" he's got a queue for that. ambient sounds, soft guitar, fuzzed-out beats -- all stitched together like a safety net. and when he sees your expression shift, eyes glassy, breath caught? he slips your headphones on and rests his forehead against yours until the world narrows to just the two of you.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who leaves sticky notes around the house with little drawings of your expressions — the ones you make when you’re overstimulated, when you’re joyful, when you’re about to cry but holding it in. each one has a caption in his messy handwriting: “this one means hold me,” “this one means back off (lovingly),” “this one means I need my playlist and snacks, stat.” he doesn’t make them to tease. he makes them because he watches. because he wants to learn your language when words go quiet. and on days when you can’t speak at all, you just hold one up — and he nods, taps his chest like “got it,” and moves into action like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who turns your sensory needs into rituals. he lights a candle when the lights are too harsh. keeps your softest clothes in reach. runs the bath before you even ask. he doesn't do it with a hero complex -- he does it because he wants you to feel peace in your own skin. and when you thank him, quiet and raw, he just kisses the crown of your head and says, "you deserve soft things. every time."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who doesn't try to drag you out of the spiral -- he jumps in with you. when your thoughts race and stack and crash, when you cry for "no reason," when everything feels wrong and too much, he doesn't go stiff. doesn't panic. he pulls you into his lap, rocks you gently, and says, "okay. we're here. it's spinning, yeah? let's spin together, then stop together." and somehow it always works. not because he fixes it. but because he doesn't leave.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐯 who holds space for your silence like it's a love language. he doesn't need words to know how you feel. doesn't flinch when you go still, go quiet, go inside. instead, he offers weight -- his palm on your thigh. his back against yours. a blanket over both your shoulders. he doesn't say "talk to me." he says nothing. and in that silence, you feel chosen.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐯 who picks up on your "tells" before even you do. when you're overstimulated but trying to push through, he notices the way your hand tugs your sleeve. the way your eyes start to dart. he doesn't wait for the meltdown. he just slips his arm around your waist and murmurs, "need to go?" and you nod. relieved. every time.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐯 who never makes you feel childish for needing comfort. when you curl up with your weighted blanket. when you need the same song five times in a row. when you rock on your heels at the edge of the bed, overwhelmed by the thought of putting on socks -- he never mocks it. never questions it. just joins you there. sits beside you. says, "we'll do it slow. together."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐯 who doesn't flinch when your reactions don't look like his. you freeze instead of cry. you laugh at the wrong time. you shut down when things are too much. and he never makes you feel broken for it. never says "why are you like this?" or "you're being dramatic." instead, he watches you with his steady, silent gaze -- and then offers a blanket. or water. or just his lap, open and wordless, until you crawl into it without having to explain.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐯 who knows when to push gently -- and when to protect you from the world completely. some days, he'll nudge you to take a break, to eat, to rest. but on the days you're shaking in a grocery aisle, or frozen at the door because you can't face the outside -- he just says, "not today," and steers you back inside. no disappointment. no pressure. just unconditional safety. and when you thank him later, his answer is always the same: "you'd do the same for me."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 who know the difference between "i need your help" and "i need space" without you saying a word. vessel is the first to see it in your eyes. ii confirms it in your breathing. iii cracks the window for air. iv keeps watch at the door. they make the world smaller when it gets too loud. make your chest feel bigger when it tightens up. and when you finally exhale, they don't cheer. don't clap. they just hold you. as long as it takes.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 who memorize your "weird" rules and follow them like gospel. no tags in your clothes. no overlapping textures on your plate. you have to start episodes at :00 or not at all. they never forget. never tease. never ask why? and if someone else does? iv says, "don't." iii says, "it makes sense to us." ii says, "not your business." and vessel just looks at you, nods, and says, "always."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 who make your home feel like a sanctuary -- not a space to perform, but to simply be. there are soft lights and quiet corners. backup snacks. noise-canceling headphones. the scent of your favorite soap. iii plays your comfort shows on low volume. ii texts you, "we're staying in tonight, no pressure." iv waits until you reach for him. vessel just pulls you into his hoodie and hums against your spine like a lullaby. no one asks you to mask. no one expects you to explain. and in their quiet orbit, you learn something new: you don't have to hide to be loved. you don't have to shrink to be held. you were never too much.

[moonlitbite]

love all the soft sleep token headcanons. would it be too much to ask for some soft gym encouragement headcanons? ves obvs works out but I imagine they all have their own ways of encouraging it 🥺😅 please 🖤

i absolutely adore this idea, thank you for requesting anon! <3 let's have some fun.

i might've gotten a bit ahead of myself...i kind of want to make a soft!postworkout headcanon list as well...uh oh.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who never asks how much you lifted, only how you felt. he doesn't track progress with numbers. he tracks it with the way your breathing steadies at the end. the way your eyes don't flinch when you look at your reflection. the way you text him "i went" and mean it. when he sees you on hard days, quiet and unsure, he doesn't push. just opens his arms, tucks you into his chest, and says, "your body's already done so much for you today. now let it rest." and when you sigh into him, sore and aching and soft, he kisses your crown like that was the goal all along.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who keeps a folded towel in his lap the entire time you train, just so he can press it to the back of your neck the second you stop. he does it like a blessing -- slow, deliberate, reverent. occasionally he will bless you with the fabric dipped in cold water, cooling the heat of your skin in a heavenly release. his fingertips graze the shell of your ear as he tucks your hair behind it, his voice low against your temple. "that's enough," he murmurs. "you gave enough today." and when you sag into him, tired and trembling, he catches you like it's instinct. like you were always meant to land there.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who doesn't work out with you, but near you -- so you never feel alone. he stays a few feet away. never hovers. never distracts. just watches with that quiet kind of devotion, moving in rhythm beside you like he's harmonizing with your breath. and when you pause -- sweaty, frustrated, doubting yourself -- he's already reaching for your hand. "just one more set. let's let this song play and then we can keep going."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who packs your gym bag when you forget, leaves snacks in the pocket, and folds your towel just how you like it. he doesn't say "you need this." he says, "i want you to feel good in your body. you deserve that." and when you skip a day? a two? a week? he doesn't guilt you. doesn't mention it. he just sits beside you, shoulder to shoulder, and says, "whenever you're ready."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who holds your ankle in his lap while you stretch and acts like it's sacred work. his thumb moves in slow, circling pressure just beneath your bone. his eyes are focused. not on the clock, not on your form -- but on the way your jaw unclenches when his touch reaches just the right spot. he doesn't say anything. he just leans forward and presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, reverent and warm. like you've done something holy by simply being. and maybe you have.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 who trains like he’s trying to shake something loose inside him — and sometimes he breaks instead. you find him in the quiet hours, shirt clinging to his back, fingers trembling as he resets the barbell for the third time. he doesn’t look up. doesn’t speak. but you see it in his shoulders — the grief that hasn’t left his body. and instead of stopping him, you step beside him. you don’t ask if he’s okay. you don’t reach to hold him. you match his breath. and you move with him. one rep. two. three. until the silence turns soft again. until his forehead finds your shoulder. until he whispers “thank you” like it hurts to say.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢 who makes you a post-workout plate before you even finish stretching. he times it perfectly -- protein, carbs, your favorite drink poured over ice -- like it's second nature. and when you glance at him, still breathless, he just shrugs. "recovery counts too." but the way he watches you eat? like it matters more than anything you lifted.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢 who talks you through your reps without ever raising his voice. "breathe. lower your shoulders. don't rush." his voice doesn't push. it grounds. and when your form finally clicks, when your body remembers itself -- he smiles like you just landed on the moon. "that's it," he says, brushing your hair back with the back of his knuckles. "that's you, love. right there."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢 who rubs warmth into your calves when you flop face-down on the floor after pushing too hard. doesn't say "i told you not to overdo it," though he absolutely did. just eases the ache from your muscles with firm, steady pressure and a kiss to the back of your neck. "you don't have to prove anything," he murmurs. "especially not to me." and when you groan that you're falling apart, he smiles like he knows better. because he does. he's seen you break. and he's stayed. every time.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who puts your playlist on shuffle and skips every sad song until something good hits. he watches your eyes for it -- the flicker of recognition, the way your body responds. and when it happens, he just grins. "that's the one. now move like you mean it." and you do. for him, for you, for the joy of it. and when it's over, he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and sways with you in the stillness.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who might be more excited than you when you beat your personal best -- even if it's just one more squat. he tosses his shirt over his shoulder, lifts you off your feet, spins you once, twice, before kissing your forehead so hard it leaves a heat print. "legend behavior!" he calls it. doesn't care if you're sweaty or if you cried halfway through -- he sees you show up and thinks that's the most amazing thing in the world. and when you slump against him afterward, dizzy and sore, he holds you tighter and whispers "i'm so proud of you it's actually disgusting."

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who doesn't go to the gym -- he makes the gym come to you. yoga mat unrolled in the living room. window cracked open. water bottle full. and when you give him that look -- the one that says "i'm too tired today" -- he kisses your cheek and says "then let's just stretch. let's just move a little. let's just be here." and somehow, that's always enough.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐯 who doesn't say much while you work out, but never once lets you doubt yourself. you catch him watching from the corner of the room -- arms crossed, unreadable, still -- and wonder if you're doing something wrong. but then you finish, sit down, rub your sore arms...and he brings you your hoodie without a word. zips it up for you. kisses your forehead. and whispers "i'm proud of you," so quiet you almost don't catch it.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐯 who doesn't tell you you're doing great -- he makes sure you feel it. when you come home sore and quiet, unsure if it was worth it, he draws a bath without a word. when you wince while tying your shoes the next day, he kneels and does it for you. when you say, "i don't know if i'm strong enough to keep going," he presses his forehead to your and says, "you're already stronger than you were yesterday." not in a way that demands more. but in a way that honors what you've already done.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 who don't turn your gym routine into a spectacle -- they make it sacred. ii sets your shoes by the door. iii throws your favorite hoodie in the dryer so it's warm when you finish. vessel lays a towel over your yoga mat with that quiet, reverent focus like it's part of a ceremony. and iv waits until you're done to speak, but when he does, it's only this: "you did good. come here." and you go -- because it's not about proving anything. it's about knowing you're already enough.

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 who build a soft orbit around your effort -- each of them their own kind of gravity. iv waits for your breath to settle before he speaks. ii starts prepping dinner halfway through your cooldown. iii throws a towel at you and says "hot stuff," even though you feel like a gremlin. vessel waits until you close your eyes and sighs, then lifts you effortlessly into his lap. "rest," he says. and you do. not because the day is over -- but because they've already made space for the part of you that tried.

[ruthlesslistener]

Do you have any vessel oc’s? If not, what are your vessel head cannons?

I have one (well, technically 2), but I don't really do much with them because fandom ocs are admittedly not really my thing unless I'm accidentally turning my player character into one (Aeris Sharphawk my beloved). My vessel ocs are a pair of twins called Hawthorne and Thistle, but Thistle was killed when they were both teenagers, their mask shattered beyond repair, so Hawthorne took their shade into themselves. They now wander the wastelands between kingdoms to bring gentle deaths and quiet burials to those who are lost, and are mates with a firefly called Flicker, who WAS a graverobber before Hawthorne caught them. I don't really do much with 'em other than think of them fondly sometimes.

As for vessel headcanons, here we go!

-Vessels who are capable of surviving outside of the egg (true-voided, or at least mostly-voided) have a body that is basically void doing its damned best to mimic the internal organs and function of living bugs. It's material that's working off of the genes left behind by PK and WL to construct a Creature, but since it's still just primordial goop trying to be a living being, everything is a little more elastic or flexible than a flesh-and-blood entity. Hence why Hollow could do their tentacle attack, and why Ghost could '''eat''' the crystal heart by just...idk, absorbing it through their chest

-Technically breathing and organ functions aren't 100% essential, but since they started off as biological beings that then were formed of void-goop, their bodies will panic after a long time without it. Just because they're made of void instead of proteins doesn't mean that they don't still need some semblance of a living vessel. Blame PK's genes holding a biological memory of being a wyrm pre-ascension for that one

-They don't need to eat unless they are lacking in void, though, so hunger isn't really a thing that bothers them. The only time they really feel it is if they are about to go through a molt and need a hell of a lot more void to grow bigger, or if they've been severely injured and need to regain a lot more of it. What they eat doesn't matter- they're capable of turning everything from bug chitin to steel into pure void

-Their masks are sort of the main thing holding them together because it's a strong reminder of what their form is supposed to be. Without it, their exoskeleton will dissolve and they will just sort of melt out as an amoeba-like being of void, which is what the shades are. Not being able to find their masks again/the masks being shattered beyond repair is what causes a 'death', where the shade is unable to return to their mortal shell and is instead damned to live in a transient state until someone dissipates their form. Entering another's mask cannot be done without explicit consent

-Because they were all formed from the remnants of a long-dead ancient god, they all share a sort of telepathic link, as if they were all still singular parts of one massive entity. Cutting themselves off from one another is possible, but it is distressing to the individual. This is also why they are far more social than the other gods; technically they all view themselves as one unit rather than individual parts

-Their communication is not based on an exchange of words, but rather on a lack of it. You can't really call void communication 'voidspeak' because of it. Even if they call or hum to each other, it is more of a vibration through the void sea or a deafening of silence that forms their communication, if they aren't just directly impressing their thoughts and feelings into the other's void so that they know what each other are thinking

-Speaking of that, they don't think in words, but in shapes and sensations. Technically speaking, translating those shapes and sensations into sentences is possible, but it would always be taciturn, awkward, and lose a lot of the inflection behind it, because you're trying to turn a three-dimensional parcel of information into a two-dimensional sentence with past or present tenses. It just doesn't work very well, and this is why very voided beings like Ghost or Hollow probably wouldn't speak very often even if they had the ability to do so. Same with sign; I headcanon Hollow to learn sign, but only speak in very simple sentences or single-word fragments, while Ghost knows sign but just doesn't use it at all. Better to impress their thoughts onto an other's mind than to bother with something that loses so much of their meaning

-Attempting to understand a void-impression on your thoughts is also quite difficult without practice. You have to actively listen and allow their thoughts to mingle with yours to get an idea of what they mean. Most of the time, it manifests more as you subconsciously understanding what they are telling you with a glance or body language than being actively aware that they are touching their mind against yours

-Void is tied to regret, the lack of all things, death, and entropy/lack of entropy. Void beings, then, are capable of sensing the shadow of regret within other people, the areas where their bodies are not, and what is set in active decay and what is held in stasis. In a way, they view people less as a form existing in empty space, and more the area where there is no empty space- if that makes sense

-This is also why void beings tend to be more passive gods. The Pale King, White Lady, and Radiance all needed active worship of their different elements to receive sustenance. In contrast, there will always be death, regret, fear, and silence given freely from the populace, whether they are aware of it or not. Active worship is nice, but it is not necessary, because there will always be someone who fears or is becoming one with the void