#em's stcu

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Strip Club Owner!Vessel x Reader

feat. Bartender!III, Manager!II, and Bouncer!IV

attempted sexual assault, eepy boys to the rescue, comfort with Vessel, non-descript reader outside of wearing eyeliner and simply having hair (though no specified length), author has never been to a strip club

a/n: this is mostly unedited so I apologize in advance for any errors, I simply needed this to stop haunting my drafts. it was intended to be a blurb but... uh.... I might have gotten a little carried away.

2.4k words

No one's ever seen the owner of the Pink Pony Club, there's a name listed on their business certificate and an owner's office tucked away in the corner, and the light is on six nights a week. Some of the regulars have caught a glimpse of his shadowed figure slipping out the back door, but they'd never know for sure it was even him. Most business in the club was conducted through the general manager, II. He hired the dancers and the staff, running final decisions through the mysterious owner, Vessel. Every night II keeps a watchful eye on the floor of the club, reporting back to Vessel throughout the night.

On this particular night though it was the bartender, III, who caught the commotion at the far end of the bar. The pristine white suit jacket caught III's eye instantly, the only customer to come in wearing such a bright white was some Wall Street scumbag who was already on his second strike at the club. He watched a streak of white as the asshole reached out to grab onto one of the dancer's arms as they walked by, yanking them back to stand in front of him.

III clocked the startled look in their eyes, the panic in their eyes was accentuated by their heavy eyeliner, giving them a similar look of a deer caught in the headlights. It was only their second week at the club, and he could tell by their reaction that this was the first time they'd encountered a more aggressive customer. III grabbed the walkie talkie from behind the bar, radioing for II to come to the bar, but got no response.

Shit. He's probably on his smoke break. III thought to himself.

He glanced back over, seeing the man's hands running along their waist, fingertips digging into their sides in a tight grip, evidenced by the wince on their face as he pulled them closer, their nose crinkling at his rancid breath. III tried calling II one more time, eyes trained on the pair at the end of the bar as he watched their attempts to wriggle from the man's hold. When he saw the anger in the man's eyes, he knew he couldn't sit around and wait for II's response.

III quickly signaled to the other bartender to watch the end of the bar while he slipped out, his long strides carrying him to the back office in seconds, knocking rapidly.

The door cracked open, a chain keeping the office door from opening all the way, when Vessel saw his best bartender bouncing on his heels at the door he raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Fucking Kingpin's back." He explained. It was a nickname Vessel himself had coined after the main villain in the Daredevil comics, known for his pristine white suit.

"II?" Vessel asked.

"Not answering."

"What's he doing this time?"

"Got his hands on Y/N." He stated quickly.

A dark cloud passed over Vessel's eyes. If there was one thing about Vessel, it was that he genuinely cared about his employees. He knew they exposed themselves to a certain amount of risk by working at the Pink Pony, and he would stop at nothing to make sure they were safe under his supervision. It was why they'd hired on a new bouncer not too long ago after business started picking up. IV was a retired rugby player, and had no issues literally tossing drunk assholes out onto the street.

"Where." It was more of a growl than a question. He'd approved their paperwork only a few weeks ago, remembering how II described them.

"End of the bar."

The door slammed shut, and III heard the chain sliding out of place before Vessel's looming from appeared in the doorway, brushing past III as he made his way to the bar. He watched as Kingpin's head dipped into the crook of their neck as they tried pushing him away again, and he was seeing red.

"Hey!" He barked, stalking closer to the two at the end of the bar, Y/N's face melting into one of relief at the owner's appearance. When Kingpin didn't move, his lips grazing the skin of their throat as they tried to squirm away, Vessel closed the distance in three easy steps, his hand forcefully yanking his shoulder back and effectively separating at least his mouth from the newest dancer.

"There an problem here?" Kingpin slurred, clearly not registering the pure ire on Vessel's face.

"Yeah. There's a fucking problem. Get your hands off my dancer." He growled, eyes flicking to where the man's hands still gripped Y/N's body, dangerously close to their ass.

"D'worry, I'm good to pay." He said, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"Afraid you're looking for services we don't offer here." Vessel sneered, his grip tightening on the man's shoulder, a flicker of pain flashing across his face.

"I'm willing to pay extra for this one..." The predatory grin on Kingpin's face had Vessel setting aside his good business sense and shoving the man from the stool, releasing his grip on Y/N in the process.

In an instant, IV appeared behind Vessel. Vessel glanced over his shoulder at the bouncer before just giving a simple nod of his head. Iv wasted no time in leaning down, grabbing the man by the lapels of his jacket and hoisting him to his feet. He yanked him forward before stepping behind him, a firm hand on his collar as he ushered him to the exit.

Vessel could hear Kingpin's protests, but one glance at IV proved that the situation was handled as he forcibly shoved him out the door, landing flat on his face against the sidewalk. If he'd been paying closer attention, he probably would have seen the way that IV spat at (not on, he was a professional after all, but that didn't mean he didn't have a distaste for drunk sleaze balls) him before slamming the door shut.

But Vessel's attention was on Y/N in an instant, checking them over for any visible injuries. His stomach lurched at the sight of the red mark against their collarbone, and he reached out a hand, which they hesitantly accepted before Vessel led them back to his office. As he passed the bar, he gave III a thankful nod before stepping aside to let Y/N into the solace of his office.

When the door closed behind him, the thumping music of the club faded to the background, and Y/N couldn't help the tears that sprang in their eyes.

"Are you alright?" Vessel asked in a surprisingly gentle tone, given the events that had just transpired. They nodded their head weakly, not wanting the owner to think they couldn't handle the job. But as a rebellious tear slipped down their cheek, Vessel slowly took a step forward to tentatively reach a hand out to cup their cheek, his thumb wiping the tear away.

"Are you alright?" Vessel repeated, voice barely above a whisper as they observed the dancer's delicate state. He remembered the way II described them, how upon meeting them he was unsure because of their gentle demeanor, yet watching them on stage he had seen a completely different person. They'd said this would be their first official dancing job, and imagined they'd yet to face some of the harsher realities of their position.

When they shook their head, he slid his hand along the side of their face to cup the back of their head, bringing them forward into a tight, comforting embrace. Their face fell into his shoulder, and he could feel their hot tears seeping through the material of his shirt as he stroked their hair gently.

After a moment they tugged their face away, and he let his arms fall to his sides as they stepped back, wiping the smudged eye makeup from underneath their eyes.

"Sorry, I'm just... He caught me off guard. That's all. I'm fine." They said, though the slight waver to their voice told Vessel differently.

"Are you sure?" He asked gently, tilting his head as he took in their quivering appearance.

"Y-yeah. Fine. Promise." They said quickly and Vessel just shook his head.

"You don't look fine to me, sweetheart." He didn't miss the slight panic in their eyes as he passed them to open his desk drawer.

I'm getting fired. He doesn't think I can handle this and he's going to fire me.

"Let me take you home." He said, and they shook their head furiously as he produced a set of car keys from the drawer.

"No, really. I'm fine. I got this." They said, trying to reassure him despite the new tears threatening to spill down their cheeks. Vessel sighed, setting the keys down on the desk to stand in front of them once more. He slowly reached his hands out to grasp their bicep, giving them time to flinch away, but when they didn't he squeezed them comfortingly.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. It's an unfortunate aspect of the business, it's happened to everyone," he says with a deep sigh. "It's okay to be scared, uncomfortable, whatever you're feeling. What isn't okay is you trying to pretend it didn't bother you. No one will think any less of you for wanting to go home, least of all me. It's part of my job to look after you, and that's what I'm doing." Vessel finished, looking deep into their eyes as they slowly nodded their head.

"I can't, I can't afford to-"

"That wasn't my question," Vessel interrupted. "Now, do you want me to take you home?" he repeated and his heart squeezed as he watched them bite down on their bottom lip, nodding their head shyly. A small smile crossed his lips, pleased that they were willing to accept his offer.

"Alright. Go get changed, pack up your stuff, I'll meet you by the back entrance." He said, his hands sliding down their arms to squeeze their hands encouragingly.

He'd spotted II back on the floor and gave him a quick rundown of the situation, explaining that he'd be back in a little bit. About fifteen minutes later the back door swung open, Y/N standing in their comfortable change of clothes and, as promised, Vessel was standing right outside the entrance. He leaned against the wall, scrolling through his phone until he heard the familiar squeak of the hinges.

He slipped his phone into his pocket, a gentle hand on the small of their back as he guided them to his black sedan parked in the alley. He opened the passenger door, ushering them inside before closing it and jogging around to the driver side.

He had them type their address into his phone, driving in silence save for the classic rock radio station playing softly through the car's speakers, street lights illuminating Y/N's face as they leaned their head back against the headrest, fidgeting with their fingers.

"If it's any consolation, you're not the first dancer I've driven home after an incident like that." Vessel said quietly as the traffic light turned green.

"Really?" Y/N asked meekly.

"Really."

"So... You don't think I'm completely pathetic?"

"Of course not," Vessel stated firmly, glancing at them out of the corner of his eye, hesitating before continuing. "I know what it feels like."

Y/N couldn't hide their surprise at his revelation. "You do?" they asked, Vessel nodding his head.

"Why do you think I want to take such good care of my dancers? I was not so lucky, the first time anyone ever grabbed me like that... The owner just told me to suck it up because it's part of the job. But I don't believe that."

"I had no idea that you used to dance."

"It was something that wasn't a pleasant experience for me, because of the place I worked in. Customers could get away with just about anything for the right price. When I bought the Pink Pony, I wanted the experience to be different."

"Wow..." They mumbled, looking at him closely now. They'd obviously noticed how attractive the owner was in their brief meeting, but they hadn't considered the fact that he had ever been something other than just a businessman.

"So, really. It's okay to need to go home. I wish I had been given the same offer."

"I'm so sorry. I... Thank you." they said sincerely, and that small smile reappeared on his face.

"Of course. It won't be reflected on your paycheck, either. I don't want you feeling like you have to suffer just to make ends meet."

Fresh tears sprung up in their eyes, their heart melting for the man across from them. How could someone be so kind and generous, yet work in such a sleazy business? His heart was too pure for what he'd been through, he didn't deserve to be put through that kind of suffering. They reached a hand out to lay atop of his hand resting on the gear stick, squeezing gently.

"Thank you, Vessel." They said softly, and he turned his hand over, squeezing back.

"It's never a problem, Y/N."

The rest of the ride was quiet until they pulled in front of Y/N's apartment complex, Vessel shifting the car into park and turning to look at them.

"D'you want me to walk you to your door?" He asked, and they really thought the fondness in their heart for him couldn't grow any stronger.

"No, no it's alright. I can do this part by myself." they said. They smiled sweetly at him before gathering their bag into their lap, hesitating for a moment before leaning over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Vessel froze, the simple gesture unexpected but not unwelcome. They didn't give him a chance to say anything else, popping the passenger door open and clamoring out of the sedan. They leaned down, resting their weight against the door.

"Good night, Vessel. Thank you again, I feel very lucky to have someone like you looking out for me."

"Always." he replied, watching carefully as they shut the door, walking quickly to the front door of their complex and unlocking the door. Just before they stepped inside, they turned, smiling to see that he was still watching and offered a small wave. He waved back, waiting until they had disappeared into the elevator to shift back into drive, getting ready to return to the club.

The next day, Y/N couldn't hide their surprise as they found a small bouquet of flowers sitting at their normal spot in the dressing room. They asked the other dancers, who said that they'd already been there when they arrived. When they looked closely, though, they found a small notecard reading simply

We're lucky to have you, too.

[politemagic]

not quite a fully fledged fic, however I think about Sleep's origins an unhealthy amount, so I bestow upon you this:

The Fall of Night

In the beginning, there were but two beings born of the Earth. Their true names are lost to time, unspeakable by human tongues, now they exist only as Wake and Sleep. Two brothers, torn from the flesh of Earth herself to bring order upon the world. Wake held everything bright of Her spirit; warmth, light, growth, love, life. On the other hand, Sleep ruled over Her darkness; cold, stillness, the unknown, fear, death.

Their division of responsibilities kept them separate for millennia, tending to the growing and flourishing Earth. It wasn't until the first humans that the rifts formed. The humans, they worshipped Wake. They praised Him every morning, bid him adieu every evening. There was no such love for Sleep. No, they turned their heads from him, closing their eyes to keep him at bay. This infuriated Him, how dare they favor His brother.

In His anger, Sleep rained down the first nightmares, the first horrors of the night. When haunting their dreams wasn't enough, He crafted beasts from his own bones to tear the humans to shreds. If they wanted to cower from the darkness, He would give them something to cower from. He resented His brother more and more every moment, with every offering burnt in His honor, only for Sleep's altars to lay bare.

That was, until, they began to fear Him.

The monsters that ransacked villages sunk their teeth into folklore, into oral traditions passed down through generations. The stories of the Deity of the Night would haunt small children, but when they began to turn to Wake for comfort, praying for solace from the demons of the dark, Sleep was furious.

His first Vessel was caught by one of His beasts. The lifeless body hung limp in it's jaws, and Sleep sought deep within Himself for the smallest speck of power that dwelled within him, the smallest power of light from His Mother. Power that was attributed only to Wake.

Power that Sleep sought to desecrate as He breathed a new life into the human man, sending him into the world to spread messages of Sleep. Soon enough, the Vessel had managed to formulate a small group of those who would live in devotion to the God of Night. He bestowed upon these men godly powers, allowing them to win influence over their peers and let the message of Sleep penetrate into society.

He could be patient.

As humanity grew, so did Sleep's influence, his tendrils of darkness tickling men with temptations and promises of ultimate power, of control, of true freedom. His offerings grew in size and quantity until He felt His power bordering on the power of His brother.

Wake did not like that.

Wake was furious with Sleep for interfering so directly with the humans. All of the other Gods, Wake's own children, turned on Sleep, who had no godly allies to defend Him. The Gods cast Sleep out from the heavens, sending him to the darkness Below.

What Wake didn't know, was by sending Sleep away, He allowed him the power to communicate with the Vessels easier, going so far as to possess their corporeal forms for brief moments of time. His influence stagnated, though, when the Gods of old began to fall to the wayside, humans shifting their minds to more bilateral religions, Good vs. Evil, God vs. Satan, Heaven vs. Hell, Wake vs. Sleep.

Sleep's power began to dwindle, a result of being forgotten by civilization. He was replaced by a new enemy, and soon enough the God of the Night was no more than a bedtime story.

Until, one day, a certain man was doing some internet research on old religions. He couldn't help but be intrigued by a strange alphabet of runes and the old tales associated with the Two Brothers of Creation. He showed them to his friends, and they all copied down their own versions of the alphabet, hoping to use them for totally-not-tabletop-rpg-related-reasons.

How could he have known that he would awaken a long-dormant deity?

Uuuggh Slumber Currency brainrot helpppp me

I need like someone to write a story of just Sleep and their experiences with a pantheon before meeting Vessel I mean GODS please I need SLEEP to FUCK other deities' lives up and they GET FUCKED up to lead up to them begging Vessel to build their religion and collect followers Cult Of Lamb style PLEASE Sleep Token fanfic makers I BEG YOU I need the BEFORE VESSEL LORE and HOW Sleep lost their reign over their first (lack of a better word) domain

More stuff coming soon guys I SWEAR my bestie forced me to pick up a new obsession and I'm working on an AU for it rn PLEASE I SWEAR I have content. I might just start rambling here so yous can pick at my brain

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sleep token coffee shop au where barista!vessel is pining after regular!ii who comes in often to work on his master's degree. one day where a girl from his study group joins him and vessel feels deflated, assuming the girl to be a romantic interest.

imagine his surprise when ii confidently strides in after defending his thesis, forgoing his normal coffee order to ask for vessel's number instead, curious if he'd be interested in a date this weekend.

[politemagic]

thinking about ii letting you play with his fingers when you're anxious and just. sitting beside you and being a comforting presence. he doesn't say anything, just lets you rub your fingertips against his knuckles until you lace your fingers together and lean your head against his shoulder.

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IV who always gets onto his partner when they skip meals, his heart aches at the thought of his love not taking proper care of themself. He's the kind to whip up a bowl of buttered noodles or a little quesadilla at a moment's notice when he hears their tummy grumble.

IV who comes home from a long time away, desperate to get his hands on his partner again, missing the feeling of their skin against his. He drops his bags at the door and is on them in seconds, his lips meeting theirs in the hungriest kiss, pulling them flush against his body, hands wandering to every inch of exposed skin he can reach. His tongue just barely slips through their lips when they pull back to whisper, a mischievous smile on their face.

"Have you eaten anything yet today?" they whispered, knowing he had a bad habit of not eating on travel days.

Furrowing his brow, he shakes his head. It had been a long day of driving and he'd been so excited to see them the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. When he shook his head, they slip from his grasp, causing him to whine at the loss of their familiar warmth in his arms.

"No play until you've eaten something," they tease with a wink, tapping their index finger against his nose gently. They disappear into the kitchen, leaving him alone in the entryway of their home. He groans loudly, knowing that they're making him pay for every well-meaning message about their eating habits.

He's grinding his teeth while he watches them whisk through the kitchen, his eyes raking over their figure as they're gathering the necessary ingredients for their signature meal. It wasn't anything complicated, but it tasted like them and it tasted like love, and despite the much less innocent thoughts racing through his mind, he couldn't help but feel a sense of peace he hadn't felt in weeks as the familiar smell wafted towards his nose as he sat at the kitchen table watching them work.

They've never seen him eat so fast, shoveling every last bite into his mouth before he practically throws his dishes into the sink, scooping them off their chair. A surprised squeal echoes through the kitchen as he planted them onto the table, standing between their legs with his hands on their face.

"Happy now?" to which they only nod. He wasted no time in crashing his lips back against theirs, his tongue slipping into their mouth to offer the faintest taste of the delicious meal they'd just made for him. A token of appreciation for the care they showed to him, a silent thank you for looking out for him.

But he was about to make and even more delicious meal out of them.

[politemagic]

slasher iii who selects a special knife for each of his victims, never using the same blade twice. he's got some stalkerish tendencies, watching for a couple weeks so he can make the right decision.

everything has to go perfectly, after all.

he keeps them all in a special box, tucked away in his linen closet. he doesn't bother to wipe the blood off, they're all exactly the way they were supposed to be.

[politemagic]

slasher iii & slasher iv

oh geez oh boy oh god here it is. i had to strangle this thing out of my brain and she came out kicking and screaming. unedited, just some fun slasher iii & slasher iv content on this saturday evening. this is... something

there's a good bit of triggers in here, please proceed with caution.

1.15k words

The two of them are just hardcore horror fans, right? They've seen all the classics a million times but as they're getting older it's just not enough. III is the first one to suggest it as he turns off the television after watching the newest horror box office flop. At first, IV thought it was a joke. An outlandish suggestion to throw him off his game. That was the kind of jokester that III was. But there was no humor in his voice when he said in a sinisterly quiet voice.

"We could just do that shit ourselves."

The thought caused excitement to pulse through IV's veins as III laid out the details of his fantasy. It was almost too perfect, he thought. Their calculus professor was a piece of shit who was always too hard on the class, so he made an obvious target. He had no family, which further eased IV's conscience. They'd be doing the world a favor.

It was an experience unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, the thrill of watching the light wink out of his horrified eyes as he clawed at the masks covering their faces, watching the fight leave his body as he fell limp to the floor. He found he didn't quite mind the feeling of his blood soaked jeans clinging to his legs.

III had done most of the dirty work, but who was IV to deprive him of the joy he received from plunging the knife into his victim's stomach? They tidied. up after themselves enough to erase their presence, and waited for someone to find him.

The discovery of the beloved professor’s body the next day came as a shock to the whole community, leaving the town a worried mess. Things only got worse as III and IV selected their next target. She was a young woman, engaged to be married, known for babysitting just about every kid in town– the two of them included. IV’s stomach soured at the thought, but the grin on III’s face stirred his excitement enough to quell his conscience. 

“Don’t worry mate, she’ll be perfect.” He clapped his friend on the shoulder and pulled him into his pickup truck, the bed loaded with enough hunting knives to butcher a stampede.

And perfect she was. They managed to slip into the garage undetected, slinking through the darkened hallways towards the illumination and chatter of the television in the living room. She had nodded off on the couch, her head tilted back and nestled into the corner, surrounded by blankets and pillows. III gave him a silent nod and IV walked around behind her, wrapping an arm around her neck and clamping his hand over her mouth. Her eyes shot open in fear, panic overtaking her body as her eyes raked down every intimidating inch of III as he knelt in front of her, sliding a knife out of his boot. 

IV could feel her gnashing at the flesh of his palm, and simply pressed the crook of his elbow further into her jugular. He could feel her resolve dwindling as she thrashed against his hold, trying to shove III’s towering figure away from her. But III only laughed and swatted away her comparatively small hands as he began tracing the tip of his blade up her pajama clad leg, the twinkle in his eye indicated to IV that he was thoroughly enjoying the muffled whimpers coming from behind IV’s hand, relishing in the way that her body lurched away from him.

When IV felt his hand dampening from her tears, he audibly groaned, looking down to see her beautiful eyes squeezed shut, tears running down her cheeks. If his mask wasn’t covering his mouth he would have leaned down and licked those tears off of her perfect skin himself. But instead, he managed to catch III’s attention, nodding down to her streaming tears and III laughed evilly.

He leaned over her, wiping her tears away with his thumbs, gently caressing her cheeks as he did so, despite IV’s hands covering most of her face. 

“Hey, no use for that,” III cooed. “No point of doing that at all, love.”

Her eyes opened, a bone-chilling fear shooting through her body as she saw the murderous glint in III’s eyes. The tears flowed faster, and as she tried again to break free III restrained her arms with ease, resting his body weight on top of her as he brought his knife up to her line of sight again. 

“We’re going to have a lovely time, the three of us.”

She screamed from behind IV’s hand, making one last attempt to bite at him and managed to find purchase on the meat of his palm, causing him to yelp. She sank her teeth in until she could taste his blood on her tongue, but she found his grip only tightened. When she dared a glance above her, she could see his eyes shut, breathing labored, but when he looked down at her, she realized what a mistake she had made. 

A mixture of her tears and IV’s blood dripped from her chin, and the sight sent a shockwave of excitement through III’s body. He was ecstatic to have a partner in all this, to get to experience his wildest fantasies with his best friend. To share this new side of him with his best friend. 

“Now for the fun part.” He whispered, more to IV than to her, but the words caused her heart to sink, she felt the resolve fly from her body– there was no salvation for her. The coppery tang of his blood on her tongue that had once tasted like victory now tasted of defeat. Not only would she die at their hands, she would die with their repulsive presence invading her every sense.

III felt the familiar rush of euphoria as the blade pierced through her belly, her muffled scream like a favorite song heard on the radio. He didn’t miss the way IV’s hip pressed slightly into the couch, spreading a wide grin across his lips.

This would be the fun part, indeed.

Hours later, III laid down in his bed, resting an arm behind his head as he replayed the events of the day, that same grin still plastered on his face. He felt his eyes drifting closed, sleep ready to take his body when he heard the sound of his phone vibrating on his nightstand. His heart leaped at the sight of your name, and your sweet message.

i guess you turned in early tonight. sweet dreams, i love you <3

As he laid back down, his eyes falling shut one more time, his mind conjured up the most beautiful plan for you. 

A special surprise.

[politemagic]

sigh thinking about how iv is definitely a phenomenal cook. he enjoys the experience of cooking in the kitchen, picking a recipe and preparing it accordingly to nourish the bodies of those that he loves.

thinking about how if someone he cares about is sick he's instantly in the car on the way to the grocery store to get ingredients for soup, and he's slaving over that pot to make sure it's perfect.

he scoops it into a bowl, letting it cool a little bit while he prepares a small piece of toast to go with it. Then he's bringing it to them in bed, asking if they need anything else, even though they didn't even ask for the soup (but obviously they're accepting it graciously. he made their favorite, after all).

if the soup wasn't enough, maybe the warmth of his love could heal you

[politemagic]

For years, Sleep has promised Vessel that he would find a safe haven for himself and the other vessels, a home free from judgement and ridicule where they would be free to be themselves. Through his dreams, Sleep showed Vessel a beautiful home, the perfect solace for the four of them. When Vessel sees Langley Manor listed for sale in a local paper, it feels as if everything is finally falling into place.

Only Langley Manor is more than meets the eye, with plenty of secrets yet to be uncovered.

find it on ao3

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V (coming soon)

Halloween Special: Part I

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Sleep Token Living in a Haunted House

These headcanons are based on this meme I made the other night. I had a lot of thoughts on the eepies living in a haunted house, a lot of them are inspired by the show Ghosts if you've seen it. I had a lot of fun writing these so I hope you like em♡

1.45k words (she got lengthy so i added a keep reading)

➺ Thanks to a few years of communing with an ancient deity, Vessel has become quite attuned to the spirit realm. Everywhere he goes, he can sense the presence of the souls unable to move on from the mortal plane.

➺ When they first step foot in their new home, Vessel immediately feels like he’s being suffocated by the amount of activity in the house. He tries to identify the spirit, but there’s too many to even keep count, the grand foyer a whirlwind of translucent figures in various period attire.

➺ When they sit down for dinner at the end of the day, Vessel decides to tell the others about their spectral roommates. After observing them for the better part of the day, he hasn’t picked up on any signs that they’d be malicious, they honestly just seemed to carry on with their lives despite being dead.

➺ II just shrugs. From what Vessel's told him in the past, there are ghosts just about everywhere you go, and they haven't bothered him yet. He imagines it won't be much different living in a haunted house, if the spirits are as tame as Vessel seems to believe they are. 

➺ Really, II just feels bad for Vessel. He knows that he'll be able to live in peace, unable to see, hear, or even sense the ghosts, but he knows Vessel isn't afforded that same luxury. He just hopes he will be able to find some form of solace from the constant commotion Vessel was describing.

➺ III is way too excited. As a kid, he always dreamed of living in a haunted house filled with a bunch of ghost friends. He’s always secretly been a little jealous of Vessel’s gift, but if he lived in a haunted house… Maybe he could find a way to communicate with them himself.

➺ Two days later, Vessel knocks on his door only to find III seated in the middle of a ring of candles, mumbling some words he knew were just gibberish. His interruption earns him a pointed glare as III explained to Vessel that he wanted to make sure that the ghosts knew it was okay to talk to him, so he wanted to reach out first.

➺ In the long run, it might have been better for the ghosts if they had left III alone.

➺ One night, he was trying yet another method of communication with the ghosts after exhausting most of the suggestions he found online. The Ouija Board started out as a joke, a housewarming present from Espera given after they had been filled in on the house’s haunted status. But III decided it was worth a shot.

➺ He had been at it for about a week at that point, and he was starting to think that Vessel was full of shit when he said the house was haunted. That was, until he sat with his fingers resting on the planchette and asked if he should give up.

➺ The planchette drifts slowly over to the “No” and III was over the moon. Using the Ouija Board suddenly became his favorite activity.

➺ He asks them any questions he thinks of. He’ll ask for opinions on things like his outfit or if a classic novel was worth the read. “They were there when it came out, I figured they’d know!”

➺ The ghosts plead with Vessel to get him to stop (in my own personal hc the ouija board emits a sound or something that beckons the spirits and they actually find it really annoying).

➺ When Vessel tried gently suggesting III use Google instead, he insisted that he preferred “Ghoul-gle”. (i'm so sorry). Vessel knew better than to try and dissuade him any further.

➺ IV is equally as excited as III, but it’s more from a root of curiosity than a root of fantastical dreams. He’s always been fascinated by ghosts, sometimes even wondering if he might be a little “sensitive” himself, though he never experienced anything like what Vessel described.

➺ He spends a lot of his time as they’re settling into the house researching the different people who have died in the house. He’ll print out news articles and stuff to show Vessel, asking if that person still haunted the house.

➺ He has a note on his phone where he keeps track of the different ghosts and what he knows about them. He tries to keep track of where the different ghosts tend to hang out, so he can be aware of who might be around any time he’s wandering the house. (in the US version of Ghosts Jay has a note on his phone that’s all the different specifics of how ghosts work. I think he would have that too for sure)

➺ IV would never openly admit it, but sometimes, when he’s alone, he’ll talk aloud to the empty rooms. He doesn’t try as hard as III because he’s overhead Vessel tell him to ease up a few times. But he secretly wants to talk to the ghosts so badly, and thinks it just isn't fair that Ves is the only one with the ability (he doesn’t think it’s fair to him or to Vessel).

➺ The ghosts were constantly talking Vessel's ear off, excited to finally have someone who can hear them! They'll ask him to do different things for them, like open a window, turn on some music, or leave the television on while they're out of the house.

➺ Vessel is still navigating the best ways to set boundaries with the ghosts so he can, you know, live his life. He already lives in the service of Sleep, he really doesn’t need to be serving the will of these ghosts on top of that. 

➺ Sometimes he’s very receptive to their requests, and other times he can be quite crass in his denial. Slowly, they begin to work out some systems as to what they can ask for and when they can ask him about it, and for the most part they’re very respectful of his space and offer their own help when they can.

➺ Outside of Vessel, the ghosts have also taken a shine to II (probably because he’s the most chill™), taking it upon themselves to help him in any ways they saw fit. It could be anything as menial as closing the door when someone forgets to shut it all the way so that he doesn't have to get up from his seat, or once he swore he felt a sudden, cold presence engulf him when he complained about the heat while practicing his drumming.

➺ As you can imagine, III was very jealous when he walked into the kitchen one evening to see a coffee mug carefully floating down from the top shelf as II fixed himself a cup of tea. 

➺ He was pouty the rest of the day, not understanding why they would prefer II. When II tried to suggest that maybe it was because he left them be, III insisted that II just didn’t understand them the way he did. “Maybe if you bothered to talk to them, you’d learn they were real chatterboxes!” 

➺ IV expresses his silent jealousy of II's status as the ghosts' favorite non-medium in the house differently than III. Instead of moping, he pays attention to the little things Vessel did for them, and he makes a point to do them himself as well.

➺ He winds up becoming quite a talented baker after learning that the ghosts loved the smell of cookies. The aroma of his chocolate chip cookies quickly won over a few of the ghosts. (I’m just gonna say it. I think there’s a female ghost from like the 1800s in that house with a little bit of a crush on him. He’s attractive, thoughtful, and knows his way around a kitchen. That’s what dreams are made of right there)

➺ Though IV really won them over when he snuck into III’s room and threw the Ouija Board away.

➺ III decided that he didn’t like ghosts anymore when IV showed him the picture of the “Thank you ♡” left in the steam on the mirror after his shower.

Bonus bc I like the idea:

➺ One night at dinner, IV makes a playful jab at III but instead of hearing the expected laughter of his friends and bandmates, he swears he hears the laughter of a woman.

➺ Later, IV asks Vessel about it in private. He laughs and confirms that yes, he did indeed hear ghost laughter. Evidently the former lady of the house found his comment to be very amusing.

[politemagic]

dabbling in writing a little bit of slasher iii👀 it's not much, but i've had this idea for months and figured it's about time i did something with it. written while listening to deadrose by unprocessed. not necessary but it's currently topping my slasher iii song list

632 words

Time had muddled in their brain, they had no idea how long it had been since he’d disappeared from their sight, but they knew they were running out of time regardless. The rope binding their limbs had been tied with expert hands. As they struggled against their bonds, the rope’s grip only tightened, the fibers rubbing their wrists and ankles raw until it began to turn pink with their blood. Their eyes frantically searched the room for anything that might help them escape, but they found little that could be of assistance. 

The room he imprisoned them in was almost entirely bare, save for a pile of discarded, bloody clothing heaped into the corner and the black journal the masked man always carried with him. When he left the room, the journal had fallen from his pocket, haphazardly forgotten by the door.

Their curious nature overtook them as they scooted across the grimy floor, nudging the cover open with their toe. Their blood ran ice cold as a pair of vibrant blue eyes stared back at them from the first page. A photograph of a handsome man was paperclipped to the page, partially obscuring what they knew were the events of the final hours of that man’s life. They felt bile creep up their throat as their eyes scanned across the page.

17:43 He believes crying will help him, that his tears will compel me to release him. It’s pathetic, really. I thought he would be stronger. But the tears make his eyes look so pretty, maybe I’ll keep him a little longer.

The horrors of the first page had done nothing to prepare them for the next, as they found those same vibrant blue eyes staring back at them, cold and devoid of life. They tried not to stare too long at dark red blood oozing from the gaping wound in his throat. The pages that followed were all the same format: a photograph of some poor unfortunate soul accompanied by a horrifically detailed account of their final moments, followed by another photo of their corpse. On some pages, he had even smeared blood across the page in vaguely artistic patterns. 

As they flipped the final page, they bit down on their lip to stifle their scream as their own face smiled back from this book of horrors. Despite his poor attempt to crop the image before printing it, they could tell it was a screenshot from their Instagram, a photo they had posted in a moment of self-confidence. A photo that this deranged man would use to remember them by, a juxtaposition for the horrific photo they knew would occupy the next page soon enough.

The door creaked open, and they lifted their gaze from the photo to meet his darkened eyes, crinkled from the grin he hid beneath his mask.

“I see you’ve found my scrapbook,” The smile in his voice told them that he had always intended to drop the journal, that he wanted them to read it, to see what was in store for them. 

He crouched before them, plucking the journal off the floor and thumbing through the pages before returning to the image of the blue-eyed man. He stroked the image tenderly with his index finger before turning it around to once again display the image of his lifeless corpse.

“He’s still my favorite, I think. But you… I believe you’ll be a close second,” His other hand gently traced the contours of their jaw. “You’re going to be my masterpiece, darling.”

He stood then, chuckling to himself as he tucked the book underneath his arm and spun on his heels, striding back out the door as they crumpled to the ground, terrified of what other sick games he might be playing with them.

[politemagic]

listening to the song "Scissors" by Holding Absence this morning and I can't stop thinking about this hc I had a while ago where Vessel's mask is physically attached to him, a physical manifestation of Sleep, almost like a face-hugger situation. as Sleep's control over Vessel shifts, so does the mask. but Vessel's been slowly trying to peel it away.

Sever the parts of my soul I've infected / With poisonous cells

Vessel is unrecognizable as Sleep's vessel. He's become infected with this horror, this false hope, empty promises, and he wants to free himself. he's clawing at the edges of this... creature? trying to see himself underneath, remind himself that he is still real, that he is more than a puppet.

Or pass the elastic and rope / With a dull pair of scissors / I'll cut it by myself

in "Chokehold" Vessel says "I come as a blade / A sacred guardian / So you keep me sharp and test my worth in blood" I'm just... thinking about how Sleep was the one who sharpened him, without Sleep he could be compared to, well, a dull pair of scissors. Vessel is going to have to use those dull scissors (his own will and determination) to free himself from Sleep and the ways He has infected Vessel.

there was blood everywhere, ichor streaming down his neck, chunks of flesh wedged beneath his fingernails as he stared at his ravaged reflection. he could recognize his nose, the curve of his lips, the shape of his eyes, but he knew it was no longer him. there is still more fighting to be done.

[politemagic]

The Haunting of Sleep Manor (Sleep Token Haunted House AU)

very very excited to start sharing this series!! the first chapter will be posted by the end of this week (hopefully tomorrow). i've been having a lot of fun writing it, so here's a little teaser 👻🖤

edit: Chapter I can be found over here or on ao3 if you prefer!

They didn’t have much in the way of worldly possessions, so all of their belongings packed neatly into one moving truck. The four vessels of Sleep squished together in the cab as they barreled down the quiet country road. Vessel was humming along to the radio, II lightly drumming along with his fingers against his thigh. IV’s mind had wandered off, his eyes slightly glazed over as he took in the passing scenery, III snoring against his shoulder. At last, they could see the wrought iron gates of Langley Manor, their new home looming at the end of the drive beyond. Vessel veered off the road, pulling up to the gates and shifting the truck into park, causing III to stir from his slumber.

Vessel hopped out of the driver’s door, unlocking the padlock with one of the many keys from the keyring he’d received from the realtor’s office the day before. The old house came with a ridiculous number of keys, he couldn’t even begin to imagine the various secrets it had locked away. Sleep wouldn’t have selected just any home, he was sure there was something more to this place than meets the eye. He pushed the gates open at last, quickly making his way back to the truck. The gravel driveway crunched beneath the tires as they neared Langley Manor, the vast expanse of land that came with the home sprawling out in luscious greens behind it. Vessel could hardly believe that he was finally here, that any of this was real. But the excited chatter from the others indicated to him that not only was it very real, it was just as amazing as he’d imagined it to be.

(original headcanons can be found here ☺️)

[politemagic]

The Haunting of Sleep Manor: Chapter IV

The vessels receive an important warning.

Masterlist

2.7k words | ao3

a/n: she's finally here!! thank you everyone for your patience as I've spent the past two months tinkering with this chapter, but I wanted to do justice to the ghosts' official introduction. every kind word said about this series means the absolute world to me, thank you from the bottom of my heart 🖤

The kitchen was indeed abuzz with chatter that morning, even if II’s ears hadn’t quite been able to detect it. Max, Joseph, and Mickey were gathered around the kitchen table, chatting as they did most mornings.

“I’m telling you, something about them seems different.” Max sighed.

“Charlotte doesn’t seem particularly pleased with them, still.” Joseph retorted, crossing his arms over his chest and looking pointedly at Max.

“She’s hardly pleased with anything these days. Besides, I think she might be… scared of them.” he explained.

“Why in the world would Lady Charlotte be scared of them?” Mickey asked, furrowing his brow.

“I could feel the house, when they got here yesterday, I could feel that… thing. And it felt happy.”

“I’ll tell you that thing’s never been happy, just going near that door makes me want to die all over again,” Mickey said. “And besides, why would that scare her? I feel like that would be a good thing.”

“You would think so-” Joseph began, but he was interrupted by the heavy panting of Trish bursting into the kitchen.

“They’re going upstairs! I tried to stop them but they wouldn’t listen, they’re going up!” Trish cried, panic in her eyes as she looked between the three of them.

“Hold on, slow down, what?” Mickey asked. He approached Trish and resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“They want to find out what’s up there. I tried to warn them. But he wouldn’t listen.”

“They were supposed to leave!” Max exclaimed, moving towards the door.

“I tried to tell them that!” Trish said, trailing behind Max as they quickly exited from the kitchen, Mickey and Joseph tight on their tails. Mickey caught a glimpse of the four guys ascending the stairs, and he felt a familiar pang in his chest, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he looked at the remains of the failed chandelier incident. 

I’m sorry. Mickey sent his condolences to the four men unknowingly ascending to their doom. He’d done his best, he was convinced the chandelier trick would work. It worked in the movies, didn’t it?

“Stop!” Max called up after them. Vessel paused, glancing down at the frantic gaggle of ghosts rushing towards the stairs.

“Please, you have to listen to us!” Trish cried, once again pleading with the Vessels to heed her warnings. Vessel noted the genuine terror in her eyes, in all of their eyes. II tried to follow Vessel’s sight line, glancing down to the floor below before looking back to Vessel.

“III,” Vessel called out calmly, causing him to stop in his tracks, IV colliding straight into his back, gently grabbing III’s sides to stop him from toppling over.

“What?” III asked incredulously, looking up the second flight of stairs, ready to begin his own investigation. Vessel just nodded his head back towards the first floor, signaling for III and IV to follow as he descended the stairs, carefully skirting around the shattered crystal to stand before the small crowd of ghosts. “Okay, I’ll listen.” he said, his voice low and almost reluctant, as if every fiber of his being was fighting against hearing the ghosts’ case. He disappeared into the living room without another word. III stood, dumbfounded, by the stairs looking between IV and II. II just shrugged, slowly descending the stairs behind Vessel, IV following suit. With a sigh, III reluctantly followed, glancing over his shoulder towards the mysterious door, a silent promise that he’ll figure this out one way or another.

The image of Langley Manor’s living room was something plucked from a sitcom. Vessel leaned against the windowsill, the grounds sprawling out in lush greens beyond the paned glass. He found the warmth of the sun through the window erased the goosebumps from his skin, yet the sun’s rays did little to ease the unshakable chill in his bones that he’d felt since his experience with Sleep. The other three vessels sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, unsure of where to direct their attention as Vessel surveyed the other occupants of the room.

“Who are you?” Vessel asked calmly, closely inspecting the mismatched group of specters standing before him. The tall one, Max, extended a hand to Vessel in greeting before thinking better of it and tucking it back into his pocket. “Max Edwards. Journalist, paranormal investigator, head liaison for all ghostly matters.” he said professionally, causing Vessel to quirk his eyebrow beneath his mask.

“You deal with a lot of… ghostly matters?” he asked, to which Max laughed.

“Not a lot, no. But it’s good to be prepared, and so we decided a long time ago I would handle any of our business should we ever need to interact with-”

“He wants to fulfill some stupid ghost hunter dream of communication between the living and the dead,” Mickey cut Max’s rambling off, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think there are more important matters at hand, don’t you, Max?” 

“Right, sorry,” Max mumbled, looking back to Vessel. “Like I said. Max Edwards. That fine fellow there is Mickey Smith, and over there we have Mr. Joseph Lyons. I believe you’ve already met Trish, that lovely munchkin over there is her daughter Samantha. Then, last and of course not least, we have-” “Lady Langley.” Vessel finished Max’s sentence, shifting his gaze to the matriarch looming by the door, scowling across the room at them. “Uh, yes. Lady Charlotte Langley. Patient Zero, if you will, original owner of this fine home.”

“Why do you want us to leave so badly?” Vessel asked, and though it was a question for any of the ghosts, he kept his eyes trained on Charlotte.

“Oh, it’s nothing personal, trust me-” Max began before being interrupted.

“He’s called you here to consume you. He’ll consume you the way He consumed all of us. He will grow more powerful, as He always does. You will feed Him, and He will be strong enough to break free.” Charlotte stated bluntly. Vessel squinted at her through the slits in his mask.

“What do you mean, break free?” At these words II, III, and IV glanced between each other in confusion, wondering what the other side of this conversation could sound like.

“That’s the part you’re concerned with?” Mickey asked incredulously, but Trish narrowed her eyes at him, surveying his reaction closely.

“There’s not much left to consume… Is there?” Trish asked softly, causing the other ghosts to turn and look at her in shock. She held Vessel’s gaze, and he could feel the weight of the other ghosts’ eyes on his face, as if they could see through the material of his mask, and he felt panic rising in his chest. 

He couldn’t admit that, could he?

“It’s what I signed up for,” was the response he opted for, adding a shrug in hopes of coming off as nonchalant and not terrified of the reality of his bargain with this ancient deity. Trish pressed her hand to her lips, and while she could no longer cry she felt the familiar sting in her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” Max asked curiously.

“You’re the Vessel. Aren’t you?” Charlotte asked, dread on her tongue. Vessel just nodded.

“What are you talking about?” Max asked again, more confused this time.

“The Vessel. The one to channel His power and release Him back into the world,” Charlotte explained. “It’s why he has the sight. He can see the creations of his master.”

“He’s been leading me here, I’ve seen this place in my dreams for years. I thought…” Vessel felt bile rising in his throat as he rapidly clenched and unclenched his fists. II was on his feet in an instant, reaching his hands out to wrap around Vessel’s fists, holding them gently as he looked up into his face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” II whispered worriedly. Vessel’s heart rate was rapidly increasing, tremors rattling through his arms as he stared at Charlotte.

“This… it’s…” Vessel heaved, feeling his heart sink to the floor as he cast his eyes downward to look into II’s wide blue irises. II slid his hands from Vessel’s fists up to his shoulders as he squeezed gently.

“Ves?” II asked, glancing over his shoulder between the empty space where he imagined the ghosts stood and the couch. III shook his head, standing from his seat on the couch.

“Hey! Listen, I thought it might be cool to live in a haunted house, but you aren’t doing shit but fucking with my friend.” III said in the direction of no one in particular.

“III-” Vessel croaked, tears welling in his eyes.

“No! No! They had their fucking chance, they don’t get to make our lives a living hell just because they can’t get there themselves!” 

“III, hey,” IV said softly, placing a hand on his arm which he shrugged off.

“No!” he yelled forcefully. “I’m tired. I’m tired of following Sleep to this place and the next, hoping that maybe this time it’ll work. I’m tired of the ridicule, I’m tired of the threats, I’m tired of it all. He’s been leading you to this place for years, and what? Now we’re not welcome here either? Because of some fucking ghosts?”

“It’s more than that,” Vessel tried to explain, but he felt as if his physical body was caving in on itself. He’d failed after all.

“Well I’m all fucking ears!” III yelled into the seemingly empty living room. 

Just then, a deafening silence fell over the room, an unfamiliar feeling muffling even the sound of their own thoughts as a voice echoed through their skulls.

You speak of what you do not understand.

III’s eyes widened as he looked down at IV, the startled expression on his face indicating that he was hearing the disembodied voice as well. II’s head was on a swivel, looking around for the source of the disembodied voice, but Vessel remained unmoving as he watched Charlotte’s lips, perfectly still, despite the sound of her voice in their heads.

He has been lying to you. There is no safe place for you, in fact this might be the most dangerous place for you to be. This deity you worship, Sleep as you call Him, does not care for you the way you think He does. All He will do is consume you, all He cares about is re-entering the mortal realm.

“How do you know that?” II asked hesitantly, his mind flashing with memories of the black sludge’s icy grip in his dream, pulling him into its cold, murky depths.

It is what he’s done to all of us.

Vessel’s eyes looked between all of the ghosts carefully, and he could feel a faint tug from the back of his mind that he’d felt the first time he’d seen Langley Manor in his dreams. When he focused on it, he could see the connection materialize between them all, a faint black line running from his chest and fracturing into different trails that led to each ghost. He looked to his friends, finding himself similarly tethered to them, a gold line connecting him to III and IV, the one between him and II a muddled mix of both black and gold, intertwined with the vein leading to the ghosts.  

“W-What are we supposed to do?” IV asked, his voice quivering.

Leave.

“And what, wait for Him to feed off of us some other way?” III asked.

No, you must not let Him take you. You must reclaim your soul, but how, I do not know.

“Great. Very helpful,” he sighed.

None of us dedicated ourselves to Him as you have. He sought us, claimed us in our final moments of weakness. There were three before you, three young witches searching for power who dedicated themselves to Him long ago.

Vessel’s heart sank further. He hadn’t even been the first.

It was these women who taught me about His true intentions. Though they could not speak to us the way you can, we learned from their rituals that they were trying to bring back this ancient deity they believed could heal the world of its suffering, in their own words. They disappeared into the fourth floor, and we’ve never seen them again.

Charlotte’s eyes bore into Vessel, watching his reactions carefully. She was surprised to find that the man she believed to be here to sacrifice himself to Sleep seemed shocked, almost hurt, by her revelations. 

“So there’s a bunch of old witches in the attic?” III felt ridiculous talking into the empty space before them.

Joseph rolled his eyes at III’s question, his long acquaintanceship with the existence of supernatural forces made these questions seem trivial. Max not-so-gently jabbed his elbow into his stomach, even though III couldn’t see them, Max knew they wouldn’t get anywhere if the vessels could sense his attitude.

“I don’t think they’re still in the attic, III…” II trailed off, glancing nervously up at Vessel. The whole ordeal from their first day in the house had been jarring enough, but the thought that Vessel could have been that close to being consumed, if what this ghost was saying was true, made him feel sick. 

While we don’t know for certain, after their disappearance I began to sense another presence in the house with us. Not in the same way as before, before it was nothing more than a chill in the air, but afterwards… I could feel His eyes. Things have only gotten worse with each death in the home.

Charlotte looked mournfully at the younger ghosts, remembering their deaths as if they’d happened yesterday.

I fear that the power you four could offer to him could be… catastrophic.

“It’s a little late for that,” III mumbled, plopping back onto the couch and dropping his head in his hands. He hadn’t expected this move to be so difficult, he thought it would bring them the sense of peace they’d been chasing. They spent so much time on tour, leading crowds in worship to Sleep, channeling the praise and energy being offered from the hearts of worshippers through their connection with Sleep. Absorbing that kind of energy was taxing, yet they felt they could never truly rest under the judgemental eye of the public. No matter how celebrated they were, the sneers and taunts they received for their appearances never seemed to diminish. Every night for the past year III had fallen asleep dreaming of the way Vessel described the life Sleep has shown him, a restful, peaceful life for them at last. Yet it had all been an elaborate trick.

Not yet, not if you leave. Charlotte’s voice was fading from their minds, Vessel could see her translucent figure fading before his eyes, a deep crease formed between her brows. This communication was draining her, Vessel realized. It was draining her in the same way it drained him when he used his own powers. The other ghosts reacted in alarm, Joseph rushed to her, grabbing her elbows as he stood before her.

“Charlotte!” He cried worriedly. “Charlotte let go!”

At his words, the ambient sounds of the house flooded into their ears once again, the muffled silence gone as Charlotte’s power released its grip on their minds. Charlotte slumped forward into Joseph’s arms, her form still wavering slightly. Vessel slid around II and crossed the room to stand beside the two ghosts and hesitantly extended a comforting hand; he was surprised to find that his hand met the cold, solid flesh of her shoulder, and didn’t pass right through her the way he expected. When they made contact, Vessel and Joseph both leaped back in surprise as Charlotte’s translucent form solidified before their eyes. A chorus of gasps erupted around the room, ghosts and vessels alike as the three guys saw Charlotte Langley materialize in front of them for the first time. 

She looked down at herself in shock, seeing herself looking almost… alive for the first time in centuries. She couldn’t believe it when she felt real tears rolling down her cheeks, the hot, salty sting against her skin an alien feeling to her at this point. She looked up to see Vessel and Joseph staring at her with their jaws hanging open, but her attention was drawn to the three men behind them, their eyes pointed directly at her.

“What just happened?” She asked, and her voice was almost unrecognizable from the one they’d heard in their heads moments before. It was raspy, like a car that hadn’t been started in a few years.

“I have no idea.” Vessel whispered, his eyes on the skin of his palm that had touched Charlotte, triggering this whole… transformation.

[politemagic]

To The Surface

Vessel always finds himself plagued by nightmares around the anniversary of his death. Even though he won't ask for comfort, choosing instead to suffer in silence, II takes notice, taking it upon himself to watch over him through the night.

II always has and always will protect Vessel, even if it means breaking one of their sacred rules.

Word Count: 855

a/n: It is implied here that Vessel and II knew each other prior to becoming vessels for Sleep. For a little context here, each member has died and been resurrected by Sleep, meaning Vessel's suicide attempt was successful. This is my first non-silly foray into writing for Sleep Token, it's just a little something I wrote last night, but feedback is greatly appreciated🖤

AO3

He was drowning again.

The water was prying at his lips, taunting his nostrils, begging him to give in, to slip away. He knew it was easier not to fight it, to let his body sink to the bottom and succumb to the darkness.

He began to part his lips, the water clawing its way in when he heard it, so faint he swore he had imagined it. Then he heard it again, louder, clearer.

His name.

He hadn’t heard it in so long, so long he had almost forgotten it entirely. It belonged to the face beneath his mask, the face he tried so desperately to forget. The face he concealed by his mask. 

The familiar voice cut through the water, wrapping itself around his torso and dragging him to the surface, his name echoing through his mind as he broke through to the air above…

Vessel gasped, shooting up in what he could vaguely recognize as his bed, sending someone toppling off the side onto the floor below. His chest heaved as he blinked furiously, trying to gain awareness of his surroundings. Tears spilled down his cheeks as sobs racked his body.

Then he heard it again, the same voice from his dream, whispering his name. A gentle hand came to his shoulder accompanied by another soft utterance of his name as he trembled, a pair of warm arms wrapping around him.

II kneeled on the bed beside Vessel and pulled him into his chest, letting him bury his face in his neck, rubbing soothing circles on his back as he sobbed. His nightmares had been getting worse recently, and II was starting to seriously worry about him. He knew that Vessel was often too embarrassed to come to any of them for comfort, even after all they’d been through together. So for the past two weeks he’d been setting alarms throughout the night to come check on him and make sure he was safe. Tonight, when he peeked into his bedroom, the sight of Vessel thrashing against the covers had sent him into a panic. He tried waking him, but nothing seemed to be able to snap him out of it. 

II knew he shouldn’t have done it, knew Sleep would likely be angry with him even if Vessel forgave him for using his true name. They were no longer the men they were, only vessels for Sleep, they had no name. But one look at the anguish on Vessel’s face pulled it from his lips involuntarily, a desperate attempt to help him. 

And it worked.

They stayed like that for the better part of an hour wrapped in each other, the room silent except for the heart wrenching sounds coming from deep within Vessel’s chest. Finally, Vessel tugged his face away from II’s neck, blinking away the tears as he sniffled. II brought his hand up to cup Vessel’s face, gently rubbing his thumb against his cheek. 

“You said my name,” Vessel croaked. “You really shouldn’t do that.”

“I tried not to. But you… you wouldn’t wake up.” II whispered, the concern evident in his voice. Vessel sighed, his eyes falling closed as he leaned his forehead against II’s shoulder.

“They’re getting bad again.” He said after a moment of silence.

“Are they all the same?” II asked. Vessel had told him once about the nightmares that plagued him around this time of year. Vessel nodded as he pulled away again, his eyes falling to his trembling hands. 

“But this one was…” Vessel trailed off, swallowing thickly. II gently took his hands, offering a reassuring squeeze. “Normally it’s silent, I’m just alone in this… nothingness. But this time, I could hear something. I could hear you.”

“Me?”

“I could hear you calling my name, and it felt like you were pulling me out of it. Like you were… saving me.” Vessel confessed, bringing his gaze back up to meet II’s eyes.

The vulnerable look in Vessel’s eyes snatched the words from his throat, he was already a man of few words even in less emotionally charged situations. So instead of speaking, he just wrapped his arms around Vessel’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug, clutching him tightly against his body. II felt Vessel’s arms wrap around his middle, the tension in his body slowly melting away as he let himself relish in II’s comforting embrace.

“I’m always going to save you.” II mumbled, holding back tears of his own. Vessel began to pull away, and II reluctantly released him.

“Would you stay with me? Just tonight?” He asked quietly, his lip quivering, and II immediately nodded.

“Of course.”

They laid facing each other, II’s hand running along Vessel’s side as they spoke in hushed whispers about nothing at all until Vessel’s eyes began to flutter closed. II smiled to himself as he watched his face relax as a peaceful slumber overtook him. He lifted his hand to brush the hair from his face, saying a silent prayer to Sleep to protect him from the darkness this time. He still laid awake until the sun rose though, just to make sure.

[politemagic]

please excuse me while i go a wee bit off the rails for a second here!!

So I'm reading Dracul currently and when I read this particular section my brain started going brrrrrr thinking about the way the other vessels may be drawn to Vessel by the power of Sleep (thinking of III in particular). Like, let me just replace some words real quickly :

III could not explain how or why he was able to do such a thing, yet there it was, a strange tugging, as if a cord had been tied to Vessel and he was pulling III along behind him. That pull was accompanied by what could only be described as a tickling at the back of his mind, and as he grew closer, that tickling redoubled. It wasn't uncomfortable; quite the opposite - he found it soothing. This force wanted III to be close to Vessel.

The force, obviously being Sleep, binds itself to each of them, and in being Sleep's primary vessel, Vessel has a natural allure to them. In my mind, Vessel & II knew each other prior to Sleep, but III and IV felt this incredibly strong pull towards this vocalist, this seemingly random guy. They think it's just because of the music, because of their aligned tastes. But they also feel connected to him in a way that they've never felt towards anyone before, but they don't realize it was Sleep's doing until it was too late, until they had allowed Sleep to meld into every fiber of their being.

It's the reason their music is so relatable, why it's so enthralling. Sleep manages to grasp at the minds of listeners, just a little, just enough to keep drawing them back, to keep them worshipping. At least until He can return to His former glory.

(idk maybe i'm just really too deep in the sleep token brainrot but i'm throwing these thoughts out of my head and into the void)