CCCC/HMS Oneshots

mind's skincare routine (mind)

A/N: request from @Poppercat (i still don't know how to tag..)
"...discuss Mind's 20 or so step skin routine. it takes a lot of effort for him to look that beautiful, stars are meant to burn :)"
most accurate headcanon i've probably ever heard for this guy. i think he uses primarily essential oils. sadly, i do not know much (anything) about skin care, so this is quite short (and not 20 steps... sorry...) but i hope it holds you all off until my next story. enough yapping.

My eyes nearly shutter closed as my feet trip over themselves, forcing me to stumble into the bathroom. I let out a disgruntled groan and flick on the lights, igniting my vigor's dwindling flame.

I seat myself before the mirror, staring into the eyes of a parallel version of myself, who gazes back equally as exhausted and irritated. My lips part to let out an exasperated sigh, my hands traversing the counter in search of cotton rounds. They succeed in their search, grasping the container and dragging them towards myself. Makeup remover haphazardly trickles onto the round, which my claws then force to slather itself against my face, clearing any sleeve obscuring my severe eyebags.

I discard the makeup's antagonist, my hands fumbling around the edges of the counter and revealing the innards of the drawer. My digits stagger through its organs, searching. They land on a small, black cap, wrapping around its petiole and tugging it towards myself. I unscrew it, disconnecting the dropper that dribbles castor oil into my skin and scalp, seeping into and moisturizing its new residence.

My metallic hands pat it into my face, before my eyes open, returning to my reflection. I shift a tad, dragging my collar down to expose my shoulder, which sports a nasty bite wound; another one of Heart's attempts at eating me alive. You can see the nicks of his fangs in my flesh, deprecating certain points to create a mold of his jaws in my muscle. I wince at the sight, as it still hasn't completely concealed its identity, intent on being a part of mine. I drip a bit of eucalyptus oil onto the wound, my shoulders tensing as it causes a minor stinging sensation.

I conceal the wound with a gauze, securing its place with a haphazard bandaging job and a grumble. I turn my attention back to the drawer's vivisection, digging in to retrieve a small bottle of frankincense. The dropper's tip drools sparsely onto my cheeks, providing my cells with their very own ambrosia. I return the dropper to its case and gently rub the frankincense in, letting it seep into the deepest parts of my skin. I prioritize the undersides of my eyelids, hoping that soon enough the exhaustion of dealing with Heart's pestilent whinging will be covered by a more pleasant tone.

Despite my lack of struggle with acne, which I believe is due my nightly ritual, my digits yearn for a bottle of sandalwood oil. They grasp it and retrieve the tube and allow it to leak onto my nose, the liquid rolling down to my cheeks as I keep my nose peaked to the ceiling. I raise my hands once more to smudge it in, allowing it to take refuge in my cells. I skip the tea tree oil tonight, as the only irritation I've felt is towards someone's whines.

After all is applied, I retrieve a small bottle of rose geranium, spreading a small amount across each curve and dip of my face. I give my hands a quick, thorough wash, before retrieving one last thing: I grab a small container of vitamins. I count 2 gummies in my palm and drop them in my mouth, which releases the various vitamins into my system, blessing my hair's health.

I precisely stick the containers back in their designated residences, dragging the drawer shut as I finally stand and exit the bathroom, flicking off the lights as an afterthought. I release a few incoherent grumbles as I trudge back to my room for rest.