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theladyismyshepard · 4 months

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Stamp of Approval

(The party's most favored memory of your journey)

A little note on Wyll's piece: My original playthrough I invaded the Iron Throne Prison INSTEAD of attending the ceremony that Gorthash invites the party to, so if it doesn't make sense, I'm going off the logic of what I encountered with doing that

Shadowheart –

The growth in relationship between you and Shadowheart was a slow, methodical journey on your part. The curiosity would burn right below your skin, a need to reach out and seek for more. She wasn’t much of an open book, preferring to keep her secrets to heart, and you knew with just the wrong amount of prodding, it would push her further away, an irreparable rift severed between the two of you. It didn’t take much consideration to give her the space she wordlessly demanded, just a lot of willpower.

You ignored Lae’zel’s mocking comments comparing you to a “lovesick pup waiting hand and foot” when you made every effort to appease Shadowheart’s interests. It was always worth it to watch her face light up with inspiration when you took every measure to serve upon the Gods or learn of their works. Shadowheart absorbed the knowledge you ascertained and allowed it to fuel her guidance upon herself and the rest of the party. You try to reason with yourself that you would put in as much effort for everyone as you do for Shadowheart, but you also can’t deny that none of the others can cause a pool of heat to warm your very core with nothing but a polite smile.

She knew how to draw you in, she did so with no effort on her part when you encountered her bound form trapped inside a pod on the nautiloid. You weren’t exactly sure what she found so intriguing in you. You initially considered your unlikely title of “hero”, but you noticed she only had so much patience and approval with your habit of putting literally everyone ahead of yourself (and the cure) before deeming it too self-destructive.

However, it was glaringly obvious she would never disapprove of you taking on the responsibility of caring for the strays that crossed your path. Astarion and Lae’zel had a begrudging resignation for being slowly outnumbered by animal life, whereas Shadowheart and Karlach had an aura of child-like glee about themselves. You would never forget the first morning you had awoken in camp after you had first spotted Scratch circling the dead body of his former master and felt the overwhelming need to accept him as your own. He looked so jolly, as if there was nothing at all wrong in the world so long as you were by his side, and you couldn’t help but to unleash all of your love and affection onto him. Your attention was so absorbed, that you almost missed the small smile gracing Shadowheart’s lips along with the subtle crinkle around her eyes as she watched you. It was a look of raw approval which she smoothed out once she noticed your attention was on her.

As you scouted and looted throughout your travels, you came across a tattered stuffed bear one day. It was an impulsive decision to stop and store it away in your bag, a fleeting thought of Shadowheart was what prompted it. You weren’t aware of every bit of information that she could provide, but you did know that the huge gaps in her memory offered both a blessing and a curse. She wasn’t granted the best of childhoods, and you couldn’t help the thought of a young Shadowheart, alone and without the comfort of even a stuffed companion. The rush of adrenaline that came with the sudden need to give it to her, to watch the happiness brighten every corner of her face had you bouncing on each step back to camp.

You entailed the assistance of a couple members of the party: Karlach and Astarion. The vampire offered a delicate hand that was skilled in the craft of sewing to gently pull the stuffed bear back together. After you carefully handwashed the toy in the river that you camped near, Karlach took her duty very seriously. You couldn’t help the smile as her tongue poked out the side of her mouth in concentration as she balanced her heat accordingly to dry the toy of excess water without setting it ablaze.

That was some time ago, and as you gazed down at the well-used stuffed bear, you felt a bit foolish for the timing. The party’s mounting problems had a snowball effect, and once one situation ended, another began in its place. You stood outside of Shadowheart’s tent, where you had been for the past few minutes contemplating if you should grant her the space she required when processing things. You had just convinced her to let go of her parents, to end the struggle and curse binding the entire family to Shar. It was like poison coating your tongue, knowing how hard the road was getting to the House of Grief and everything that Shadowheart had given up for that exact moment, but it felt so wrong to go against the desperate pleas of her parents, begging you to end Shar’s torment for them all because they knew their daughter had not the strength for it.

“Did you want something? If not, I’m perfectly happy to just gaze upon you a while.” The greeting caught you off-guard and as you looked upon her false bravado, down to the pain swirling just below the surface, you could feel yourself start to break in guilt. You threw your arms around her, the stuffed bear squashed between your bodies, and apologized thickly.

“It was the right thing to do… even if I can’t bring myself to believe it just yet– oh… what is this?”

“I wasn’t sure if you had anything of comfort when you really needed it back then, so I wanted to make sure you had something now… It was cute, so naturally it reminded me of you,”

There was a newfound softness to her eyes as they darted all across your face, taking in the embarrassed red flare on your cheeks to the subtle sheen of sweat collecting atop your brow. As you attempted to joke and smile off the sentiment, her hands cupped the back of your neck as easily as if she had done so all her life, and pulled you down into a passionate kiss marred only by her building grin.

“I love it… I love you,” You were filled to the brim with warmth every time you looked over during your many months of traveling when it was all said and done and would spot the stuffed bear tucked into her own travel bag, refusing to leave it behind anywhere.

Karlach –

Your romance with Karlach roared to life fairly quickly, but that was to be expected with someone like her. When you’re living on borrowed time, and death was always a step away to collect it back, everything burned brighter, as did the relationship between you two. You could hardly remember a time when you had been led to believe her to be this devil reigning chaos everywhere she went. For she was the most adorable woman you had ever met, and her bubbly personality had you instantly head over heels.

You found Karlach easily inspired as you traveled and explored new areas of Faerun. The look of awe on her face made the whole situation feel as though it were nothing more than an adventure, a quest to ensure Karlach had seen it all and done it all. There was always a bittersweet ache lodged in your chest when you were granted the sight of sparkles in her eyes. Even more so when she thanked you for it… as if you shouldn’t be on your knees thanking her for her very existence.

After Dammon had informed the two of you of the severity of Karlach’s condition, you didn’t even dare approach the topic of her returning to Avernus. It was unthinkable to push her back into her worst nightmare that she fought tooth and nail to crawl her way out of. You pull yourself together because no matter how much it broke your own heart, no one was more cheated here than Karlach herself, and you had to be strong enough to soothe her pain, not the other way around (even though you knew her to be so selfless that she would). You keep her close when you all travel, making sure some part of you is always touching some part of her at all times, and you know she greatly approves of the physical contact when she randomly grins down at you from time to time.

Weeks worth of whispered words and frantic touches had your personal goals shifting. When you had first awoken on the nautiloid, you cared for little else aside from curing yourself of the tadpole taking shelter behind your eye, but as you heard more of Karlach’s life, you grew scornful of Zariel and Gortash. The purest of souls was the grandest treasure to the devil indeed, but Karlach was a Goddess that rose above while you yourself were falling. She didn’t even need to ask if you would help avenge her– that was a given. Your journey had taken you this way and that, pitting you against foe of every kind… You could handle descending into the Hells and waging wars on devils.

Because you already did… summoning the portal in the House of Hope led you directly to Raphael’s home in the Hells, and it revealed so much to you– the Orphic Hammer that aided in your quest to free Orpheus, the poor, demented soul of Hope, who guided you the whole way, and the glaring fact that Karlach felt the most at ease that you’ve ever seen her to be. Her breathing was easier, her movements weren’t jerky or rigid with pain so she wasn’t bouncing around to loosen herself up as she constantly did in the mortal realm. You could almost get used to the sight… almost. You also tried to ignore the fluidity of her being, seeing as you knew it to be short-lived, but as you noticed Karlach’s immediate attachment to Hope, you couldn’t stop the onslaught of design.

You bit your tongue after Raphael fell and after Hope thanked you tremendously with the promise of bringing sanctuary to her former prison. Once the party returned to Baldurs Gate, Karlach’s grunt of pain was immediate as were the flames dancing along her flesh. There was a single bead of sweat dripping down her temple that your eyes followed along with until they snapped to her pained smile. She tried so hard to comfort you despite her own agony, and you were starting to think it was because she didn’t know how to accept comfort enough to let you try and do the same. As you lean forward and carefully kiss the ragged breath from her lungs, you continue to bite your tongue.

You could not bite your tongue when she (in Karlach fashion) offered to take on the Astral Tadpole to gain the full Mind Flayer potential. She reasoned it would be an edge on the battlefield that they couldn’t pass up and went even further as to say that her time was running out anyway… She had not a selfish bone in her body, and that was why you found a selfish backbone for her. Karlach was made up entirely of soul and willpower, and you refused to allow her to give up what absolute little she had left. You would sooner die than let that happen, and while you would agree with anyone claiming your soul was to be damned to the Hells, you happily pushed the weight of the Astral Tadpole in Orpheus’ direction. Karlach was quiet on and off the battlefield following your call, and it was gnawing at you, knowing that it was bothering her.

“Copper for your thoughts, darling?” She can’t help but smile at her own words played back to her, and didn’t protest when you sat down next to her outside her tent.

“I just… It doesn’t make sense to me. My life is pretty much moot at this point, it’s just a matter of when. I could’ve had one last hurrah, yeah? A fighter till the end,”

“At the cost of your soul, Karlach? It was my decision in the end, if anyone is to be plagued with guilt it should be me, but I think you should know that I don’t regret it,”

“But why!” exclaimed Karlach in exasperation, her eyes misting over in a mixture of irritation and sorrow, “I’m dying anyway, soldier, there was no other option than-”

“Than changing your whole being?” You challenge, moving to where you were practically in her lap. “We’ve already sacrificed and fought for so much, Karlach, it’s time you get to rest, baby, and call me selfish, but all I want to do is rid ourselves of this parasite, and find a way to live a happy life with you.”

You could see the calm look on her face and immediately knew she was about to dive into a spiel about her impending death with as little condescension as possible, and you beat her to it, deciding that you no longer would bite your tongue, “Let’s both go back to the House of Hope… return to the sanctuary that Hope was creating out of Raphael’s old mansion, and until a more permanent solution for your engine is found, we’ll be happy because we have each other… right?”

Karlach blinked as her mouth opened and closed a few times, a perfect imitation of a goldfish as she processed what you just proposed. Her brow furrowed before relaxing before furrowing again. She held her pointer finger at the ready for an announcement that died on her lips, her finger drooping. You took mercy on her before looping your arms around her neck and bringing your lips together in a kiss to seal it. Karlach was beginning to lose hope as the days dwindled, you had seen the weight of resignation set heavily upon her shoulders as they began to sag. Now… you felt a newfound strength in resolve building within the muscles twitching beneath your hands, and it excited you. You knew your words had inspired her to live more than the bluest of oceans, the greenest of grasses, the freshest of airs. She wanted a life, no matter where it was, so long as you were at her side.

Minthara –

Your initial response to Minthara was that she was incredibly deluded by the will of this “Absolute”. She seemed so dedicated to this cause, and ready to dominate and bend the will of those who didn’t, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t send a shiver down your spine. She regarded you carefully, eyes trailing up and down your body and you could see your resulting quiver was passed through the connection of the True Soul if the darkening of her eyes were anything to go by. You felt as though you were trekking on ice and you could never properly find your footing when you were around her.

Her eyes followed your movements anytime you wandered around camp, whether it be to make small talk with your other companions or to put your mind at ease. Minthara was bold with her calculations and made no move to hide her intrigue. Any time you would look over and meet her eyes, it was always you who looked away first, your body rigid underneath the weight of her lingering gaze and mind scattered as you attempted to find your place in conversation once more. Astarion merely arches a brow in response, and you didn’t like this… this spell she had cast on you. You liked to think that you were tactful with your solution– by insisting she stay in camp while you and a few of the others scouted the area, covering as much ground as it took for nightfall to cast a dark blanket that you hoped Minthara would be nestled in, falling fast asleep by the time the party arrived back. After a while, you aren’t really surprised anymore when you see her lounged comfortably by the campfire, wine goblet in hand as if awaiting your arrival.

“Ah, the mighty hero returns from yet another quest… I have been awaiting your arrival,” You held a deep-seeded exhaustion, one that seeped down into your very bones, and you found yourself in no mood to either entertain her devious scheming or withstand the glowering disapproval if you found yourselves at a disagreement. “Come, sit before me,” It wasn’t a request so much as it was a demand, and despite yourself, you approached Minthara, standing before her and arching your brow in question. She rolled her eyes so hard you were almost afraid they would fall free from her head before her hand reached out and pulled you down to your knees. Despite your squawking and huffing, she twisted your form until you were sitting facing the fire with her body dangerously close to your back. Your eyes repeatedly glanced down at her legs that were resting on either side of you, surrounding you, and you were so absorbed in your staring that you flinched when you felt her strong fingers begin working at the knots twisting the muscles of your shoulders.

“What’re-”

“Relax…” her voice was sultry in your ear before you felt her hot breath against the back of your neck, “You harbor a lot of weight here… Your back must be incredibly sore from carrying the fate of this world.”

Your eyes flutter closed on their own accord and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips, and when you felt her smirk hiding in your hair, you knew you were falling right into a trap of some sort. Her purposeful hands wandered lower as she massaged little circles into her back, forcing you to straighten up, and once you did, her arms surrounded you before pulling you flush against her front. Your head fell back against her shoulder, and your obscured vision robbed you the sight of Minthara’s wicked smile as her eyes hungrily grazed down your body. Her hands recommenced their movements on your hips, and she smiled genuinely when she felt your muscles quivering at her slight touch.

Her hands found purchase in both of your pockets and as your brow furrowed, her teeth were latching onto your shoulder, leaving indentations that were shallow enough to disappear within the next few hours, and she soothed it by flattening her tongue and licking over the bite mark. Her skillful hands worked at the muscles of your thighs through your trousers, and you were soon melting, becoming putty in her palms. Minthara occasionally pressed kisses into your hair and it wasn’t long before your breathing was shallowing out.

“Some of us care little for this display,” drawled Shadowheart from her tent, her face scrunched in a grimace before she returned to her prayer.

“And some of us are enjoying it,” countered Astarion, his eyes flashing wickedly before a glare from Minthara had him raising his hands in a conceding gesture.

“Shall we take this to my tent? Lay you out in a way you might be more comfortable?” The request was hushed, though you two left little to no doubt of your intentions when you scrambled (she strode gracefully) to reach her one bedroll.

Throughout the hours of the night leading to first daylight, the scene shifted from her on top of you to you on top of her and it continued until you found yourself falling fast asleep with her still inside of you. Minthara managed to lull you into a sleep so deep that you didn’t even wake to her digging through the pockets of your discarded trousers before clutching at the jar containing the collection of illithid tadpoles you had discovered along your journey. She considered accepting them all for herself without even a thought spared to you. The unimaginable power, an unrivaled throne atop a whole world ready to serve her.

You mumbled something in your sleep, your eyes never opening yet your arms were out searching and you captured Minthara around her waist before pulling her in and curling around her unbalanced form. One arm was propping her up and the other grasped at your hand around her. She stared unblinkingly at your face for an entire minute as something shifted within her. You had the opportunity to expunge her existence from this plane just as you did with Priestess Gut and Dror Ragzlin, but you spared her. A foolish notion that Minthara herself would never have made if roles were reversed, but as she stared down at your peaceful face, the opportunity to strike glaringly obvious, she found that she wasn’t looking forward to the impending loneliness that was sure to follow your death.

Her goal of power and blood was still at the forefront, but she was picturing enough room that included you as well. And if you had any qualms about taking the Netherbrain’s influence for you two’s personal gain? Well… she had ways of persuading you.

Wyll –

Wyll was a knight in shining armor from your very first impression of him outside of the Grove, ready to lay down his life to defend the innocents trapped within. It didn’t take you long to deduce that he would die happily so long as he played the part of the folk hero. You acted hypocritical anytime you found yourself questioning his heroics and if it all was really worth it. You had your own role in saving the world that was forced upon you, and you understood the call to help when the lost and the damned begged you so brokenly.

Consider yourself surprised when you learned of this angelic man’s pact with a devil named Mizora. There was shame shrouding him after he broke his word to track down Karlach and drive a battle ax straight through the fire she called a heart once he learned that Karlach was a victim herself. His horns were forever a reminder of his dealings with a devil, and while he appeared to hate no one but himself, you felt no traces of regret through your connection. It was a choice he would make every time for Baldurs Gate and his father’s people. Even if that caused the very rift between him and his father.

Wyll was so considerate of a man that he understood the disapproval completely and accepted the banishment with no argument. He took on the persona of the Blade of the Frontiers in hopes of righting his hellish deed tenfold. If he were to die honorably in battle protecting those who couldn’t fight for themselves, then so be it. It wasn’t likely to save his soul in the end, not when it was tethered to a pact in the Hells. Wyll would tell you this to be his biggest fear after you had accepted his beautiful request to dance and you two spun all night long. It was a hollow fact to him, and you swore to yourself in the heat of that night that you would do whatever it took to free Wyll of his pact with Mizora.

As your relationship blossomed, you couldn’t help but to wonder if he dabbled in the ways of the Bard. His words held a melodic tune that sometimes left you entranced by the vibration of it rather than the actual words he was speaking. You would always remember the bashful look he wore one night when he approached you with a piece of parchment trembling the slightest in his hand, his eyes both seeking yours and then averting when he found them. Wyll cleared his throat and after rambling a bit until your fond laughter had him shaking his head, he began to recite poetry that you weren’t familiar with. Your smile softened as he pressed on, but then it slipped away as your mouth parted slightly with a heavy exhale once you realized it was about you.

His words spoke of your devotion, of your wits, of your beauty, and you found yourself melting at the fact that no one had ever written you a poem before, and yet this warlock, who used to be more eloquent when he was crafting spells than he was when he was flirting had found inspiration from you. You inspired a man who inspired so many people with his endless supply of positivity, and you wondered what exactly made you so lucky as to find yourself in an epic romance with Wyll Ravenguard, the man who could hardly be shaken, even while looking into the face of evil and terror.

You felt his jittery need to rush the underwater prison that Gortash had set to blow in search of his imprisoned and infected father. You nodded to Karlach and she was soon dropping from the opening rather than using the grimy ladder. With her warhammer cocked over her shoulder and at the ready, she went to work on clearing out the sahuagin that stood guard. Once she was out of sight, leaving behind a bloody trail, you handed Lae’zel every Arrow of Transposition you purchased and hoped her Misty Step would carry her the rest of the way after ordering her down the east corridor in search of prisoners. Wyll was nearly seething by the time you turned to him and before the command could even leave your mouth, he was already charging, the Dimension Door spell already crackling to life at his fingertips.

Time was ticking and for each enemy that was cut down, about five more appeared from the murky depths. You could hear the slapping of shoes against wet stone as everyone who was released made a frantic dash towards the exit. You couldn’t bring yourself to look back when you heard a woman who was intercepted by one of the monsters. Try as you might, the following ripping sound and resulting gurgle would haunt your dreams to come. It was an incredible gamble to invade the Iron Throne Prison, and once Gortash gave the final call, you knew that it was damn near impossible to save everyone. The sinking reality set in as you passed body after body while retracing your steps back to the exit hatch. Wyll frowned so deeply that it was bringing lines to his forehead. It was going against everything the Blade of the Frontiers stood for, this act of selfish grandeur to ensure his father’s life over all else.

The rotten taste of unfairness bit like acid on the back of Wyll’s tongue, and at this point, he shouldn’t be as shocked as he was to find out that his father wasn’t being held in the prison like he was led to believe by Mizora… Whatever possessed you to take her for her word was beyond you, and you had just about enough with that devil and her trickery. As the submarine filled with what Gondian survivors were remaining departed from the explosion, you couldn’t help but to ponder the comparisons between Mizora and Raphael to determine if you could handle a battle against her.

It seemed fitting that you found the Duke at Gortash’s side in Wyrm’s Rock Fortress during the final showdown with Bane’s Chosen. It was a ruthless fight, and while you tried several tactics to break the influence controlling the Duke, his curse proved unshakable and his strength was consuming you. It was only a matter of time before his sword was destined to cut you down, and as you craned your neck to give Wyll one last exhausted, resigned smile as you made the decision to put the Duke’s life before your own, Wyll found himself charging with a roar that sounded an awful lot like “NO!”

His own blade pierced the final blow that brought the Duke to his knees, blinking away the influence that muddled his mind. He sputtered as he looked from the hilt protruding from his chest to his son, who stood over him with a look of horrific realization. As he began swaying dangerously close to the point of toppling over, Wyll dropped to his side to cradle his father close, mindful of the blade. He sobbed and hiccuped past his rushed apologies, but his father blinked past the pain to acknowledge his son.

“There is more to this world than just gods and devils, my boy, and you are neither. I’m…”

The gargled whisper would remain unfinished forever, and it broke Wyll to pieces as he clutched at his father’s lifeless body. He sobbed even as Karlach delivered the final smiting blow to Gortash’s feeble body, and wasn’t even paying attention when she chopped off his hand for the tribunal to Bhaal. You awkwardly hovered above Wyll, unsure if he would even accept your presence after he killed his own father to save you, but you had a secret trick up your sleeve, one that you had been saving for just the right time, and one that you could only call upon once in your lifetime. Wyll was willing to make a great sacrifice for your life, it was only fair you did the same for his happiness.

“My love,” You whisper gently and only continue when his tear-streaked face looked up at you, “If you’d allow me, I would like to call upon Selune’s Opulent Revival and save your father.”

Wyll’s eyes widened as he felt a surge of hope warm his veins. He glanced between both of your eyes, searching for something that you weren’t entirely sure of before he was rearranging his father’s body. He couldn’t help his whimpered gag as he tore the blade free from his father’s chest to prevent complications. With the Duke lying flat against the ground, you got to your own knees, ready to summon your prayer that would call upon Selune’s power to revive and restore health. Wyll grabbed ahold of your hand before you could rest it against the Duke’s chest. He raised your wrist and pressed the most reverent of kisses to your palm before dropping another to the inside of your wrist. When you caught his eyes again, there was no hiding the adoration he had for you in this very moment.

Once the moment passed, you placed your hand over the still heart within the Duke’s chest, and dared not remove it until your lips paused at the end of your prayer, and there was a fluttering against the same palm that could still feel the press of Wyll’s lips.

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noisydiary · 1 year

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Stick 'n Poke

"Come on, Leo- do it already." Jess' hand clenched up on the table as Leo futzed around with one of the ballpoints he'd found around the store.

"Yeah yeah, gimme a damn minute!! You asked for somethin' huge, I haven't done any this big before."

"That's what she said-"

Leo looked up from the pen, chuckling, "Uhuh."

In turn, Jess smiled right back- watching as Leo squished the ink out into the cup he'd poured the rest of the stores pens into. Jess took a long breath, as she felt her hand shaking against the table. Leo shot a glance over, more checking the sketch Jess'd done herself, before noticing her shaking and letting off a laugh, "What, nervous?"

"No-!" Jess snarked back, her hand clenching up as he laughed.

"It doesn't hurt… Much."

Jess gritted her teeth and scowled, "Fuck off."

After a minute, Leo cut off the laugh with a soft hum, "You'll be fine."

With Jess' signature eye roll in response, Leo pulled off, pitching the pen into the trash. He brought the cup to where Jess sat, reaching for the rest of his 'kit' next to it- a pencil he'd set up earlier, with the end carved out to hold a sewing needle he'd heated with a lighter, and some thread wrapped around the top. Following that, he sat down before Jess. "Ready?"

For all of her rushing, Jess took a second. She took a deep breath, clenching her hand, before bringing it over to Leo. "Here I thought you'd want the counter."

"Nah. Easier when I can move your arm how I need to." Leo shrugged, dipping the needle into the solo cup of ink, "Now, really. Ready?"

"Mh-"

"Jess."

"Yeah," Jess nodded- feeling that fun rush of adrenaline in her stomach, the mix of excitement and nerves boiling like a stew. She briefly squeezed Leo's hand before humming, "Yeah, I'm ready."

"M'kay… Count of three." Leo brought the needle closer to her hand, edging the tip against the skin. "One, two…" Poke-! Wincing a little as Leo pushed the needle in early, Jess hissed out air as the sensation raked through her hand.

"Three."

Snarling through her teeth, she glared up from the work on her hand to Leo's head, half tempted to shove him. "You ass."

"Ha ha." Drily responding, Leo kept his head bowed as he worked- which, to Jess, felt like more care than he'd shown anything else.

Careful, methodical presses into the skin, followed by a dry wipe when he needed to clear the skin. For a jittering crackhead, not bad. At least, in Jess' eyes anyway- she'd had no other experience to judge it against… As Leo worked, Jess watched for the first spell, watching each poke as he did it, trying to follow the lines Jess'd set before. He was a little more cautious to make them rounded than Jess was. Points to that detail.

However, as fun as it was to watch him work, her eyes wandered the store, catching on one of the TVs. She zoned out listening to the movie for a spell, half ignoring the numerous pokes.

After a fair spell of quiet, the rhythm that Leo had set himself into eased, as he got more comfortable working with Jess' arm. He piped up, breaking her out of her focus on the movie. "So, whhhy didn't you ask your mom?"

Jess turned her head back, half noting just how far he was coming along.

Not… Far. Though the tattoo was coming along nicely. He had that going for him.

"Uhh… She'd say no?"

"Really." Leo scoffed, "Bullshit. Why?"

"…I figured she would say I could, but- well…" Money.

Jess didn't finish that statement, but Leo nodded along anyway. "…trying to keep teenage rebellion cheap, huh."

"May as well get my outcast mark from someone who understands why."

"Right. Well, I'm the best you've got-"

Letting off a laugh, Jess hummed, "Yeah, you are." "Oooh, being affectionate today, are we?" Leo teased, pausing for a moment to glance up-

Jess took the moment to shove his shoulder, though realising that was about the only reason he'd paused in the first place. That much got a snort out of her, "Sure. Let's say that."

"Riiight."

"Moreover- just- you know the whole-"

"Yeah, I know. Kinda hard to forget."

"And I'm more comfortable with you doing it than some guy in his 40s."

"I'm-" As Leo made to tease once more, the doorbell rung, snagging his attention. "Shhit."

Putting the needle down on the paper towel, he moved to get up, turning towards the door, before letting off a little sigh of relief, "Oh, hey."

Jess turned her attention to the back room door, seeing a modest, frankly over dressed, redhead step in. She had a cardigan on, along with a long skirt and socks practically to her knees, along with tacky red glasses and heavily embroidered oxfords. Preppy…

Although, Leo moved and picked up the needle again, half ignoring her as she stepped up to the counter. Furrowing her brow, she looked down to Leo, "Uhh-"

Leo brushed off the comment, glancing to the girl, before looking back down at Jess' arm. "It's fine. Just called in someone to watch the front for a bit."

The girl gave a nod, before quietly sneaking past the two and moving to the desk. She reached into the hidden compartment and took out a notebook, before excusing herself to the front, and shutting the door behind her.

"Who's that?"

"Mh? Ah- just some volunteer. She lives like a mile away, and her mom said something about trying to drill in responsibility. Kid's like 14, though- so… I mean, I won't turn down free labour."

"Huh." Jess shrugged, glancing to the door, before groaning, "Ugh… she shut the door thoughh…"

"Uhh, yeah? I mean, are you mad about some alone time~"

"Shutup-"

"Just sayin'."

"I'm mad because she took away the line of sight I had to a TV." "Well, I mean-" Leo paused, before looking to the door, "Hey-! Faith! Get back in here a sec, would ya?"

His yell sat quiet for a moment, before the door creaked open, and the girl poked her head in. "Yes?"

"Can you grab- uh… Oh. Grab Clockwork Orange and put it in the player real quick."

This ought to be good… Jess rolled her eyes, but the girl nodded, "I'll take a look," before shutting the door once again.

"Clockwork? Really."

"Whaaat, I figure you wanted something at least a little interesting. Aaand long."

"Oh, so, not you?" "Jessica."

Satisfied, Jess gave a little shit eating grin- before Leo poked down on her arm a little Too Hard for her liking. She sucked her teeth at the motion, glaring- "Sorry, Jesus- Confidence issues, much?"

"Ha. Hah. Hah."

Leo went back to his regular pace, leaving Jess with the quiet for a spell- until the door clicked open, and the girl walked in. She squeezed past the two before moving to the VCR, and putting in the tape. She then turned on the TV, and grabbed the remote, moving over to the two. "Um-"

"Give it to Jess, I'm busy."

With Leo's comment, the girl nodded, before looking to Jess and holding out the remote. Jess reached with her free hand and took it, "Thanks."

Although, the girl stood still- looking down to what Leo was doing. She seemed particularly fixated on it, before Leo paused and looked up with a glare, "Get back to work?"

"Oh!! Um- yes, sorry-!!" And she scurried off, quickly leaving the room and shutting the door.

"Jeez…"

"Don't get mad at her-- I'd be interested too if it were my first time seeing a tattoo being done."

"You're awful loyal real quick, Jessie."

Jess shook her head and scowled back, "Not loyal- just don't think you should be yelling at her. She's not even getting paid to deal with your bullshit."

"Yeah, yeah…" Wiping away another little section, he took a look at the current progress, before continuing on as normal.

Meanwhile, Jess sat back- adjusting her position as best she could without disturbing Leo so that she could see the screen… though soon deciding it would be best if it were background noise instead. Not her taste, but better than the hum of the AC. The rest of the evening continued on like this for a fair spell- as the TV played out the dystopian film from one of Leo's dreams, and Leo continued his work. Slowly but surely, the tattoo soon filled. Jess grew numb to it after a while, and almost didn't notice when the pricking stopped. Almost, as Leo swiped away the remaining ink and tossed the pencil down onto the paper towel next to him, and got up.

"Huh?"

Leo looked down at Jess' noise, before shaking out the kinks in his hands and arms. "All done- just getting some water to clean it off with."

"Ah- wait… Wouldn't it be easier if I just washed it?"

"Nah. Clean water, no soap. May as well just rinse it with a cloth and get a bandage on it."

At that, Leo turned and headed out, leaving Jess by herself. She looked down at the tattoo, seeing the dark ink now against her skin- with some sections lacking ink, and more ink in other places than she'd expected. However, it looked good. Clean, sharp and crisp. Of course, it'd fade, but then? The bold lines across her hand, with the treble clef sticking out among it? Looked badass.

All that, though, and it still felt like it was missing something. The sweeping lines adding depth to the treble clef certainly had it's charm- but it didn't really… Mean a lot. Granted, it did to her- but it was a statement piece after all.

On a bit of an impulse, she picked up the needle and scraped the cup, pulling her hand into her lap, before drawing on her own little addition to the tattoo-- A frownie face with X's for eyes in the crook of her hand. May as well sum up my life, huh?

Looking at the little mark, she smiled to herself, before hearing the door click open and Leo step in. She tossed the pencil back onto the towel, but the act was still noticable enough that Leo chuckled, "What? Not enough for you?"

"Adding my touch, thank you very much-"

"Well, if you wanted your touch, why didn't you do the whole thing yourself?"

He had a point there, as Jess was loathe to admit. She shrugged, "You did it better than I did- see?"

Holding up her hand to show the mark she added, Leo laughed again- hearty and mocking. Jess rolled her eyes, before laughing along with, "Whatever."

"Right. Let's get you cleaned up." ——

☾ | i must, for all intents and purposes, stress this: For this fic, I've written it that the main ink used is ballpoint pen ink. Please DO NOT use ballpoint pen ink for stick and point tattoos at home!!! It's very unsafe and you can risk all kinds of infections, or worse. About the only reason I've written it here is Iiii didn't think Leo or Jess would have access to proper tattoo ink for this. with that aside, i thought it'd be fun to write how jess got her tattoo-- seeing as i thought she'd get it from leo when they were dating, eheh~

#video horror society #vhs #vhs jess #vhs leo #ficlet #rambles #tw: needles

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