Writing do sometimes be “okay, so I’m looking up frog facts bc this character’s job is frog. And because her family lives near a silver mine, I need to look up silver mining in that geographical region”
Guess who actually took the time to treat themselves to a little at home spa night? I'm feeling proud of myself for once. Anyways the entire time I couldn't stop thinking about how cheesy it'd be for Scaramouche to actually partake in self care with his partner so have a very self indulgent boyfriend Scaramouche bothering you while you take care of yourself
You were extremely particular about your bedtime routine, it was the one thing in your life you seemed to be able to control and it helped you unwind after the particularly stressful days. Your boyfriend, the ever perfect Scaramouche, didn't seem to understand what was so great about smearing your face in junk only to wash it off later and spend an hour massaging your aching joints or soaking in a bubble bath. In fact, Scaramouche was so clueless he probably honestly wasn't sure if this was just a routine for yourself or some sort of ritual that happened to make you a less cranky person when he wakes you up in the morning. He's seen the person you are without your proper rest and let's just say there's little else that terrifies him after that one morning.
While you didn't force your crazy routine onto him, you did ask that he respect the fact that this was what made you feel good about yourself and it was one of the only coping mechanisms you had that was actually healthy. He agreed to not be rude about it when you moved in, and he's kept his word, not a single bad comment came from his mouth, most nights you'd catch him staring at you from the bed and you'd just wait for something, anything, but he'd just quietly return to the book he was reading. Tonight however, his curiosity got the best of him and you suddenly had a very cute shadow following you around the house as you prepared for your nightly self care time.
He was quiet as you put two towels in the dryer to warm them up, and followed you to the kitchen, his deep ocean eyes overflowing with curiosity as you grabbed some sunsettias and apples, cutting them up into slices before getting the chocolate and caramel dippings from the fridge and spooning some of each out over the fruit slices. You had an amused smile as you saw his hand slowly inching across the counter to your tray of snacks and you picked up an apple slice, holding to his mouth for him to eat, laughing softly as his cheeks reddened before he ate the treat.
While he did eat it, his nose scrunched up and he stuck his tongue out. "Too sweet," he says and begins brewing his nightly tea, the more bitter the better in his opinion, he'll leave the sweets to you. Once you had finished your snack, you headed to the bathroom to start your bath, expecting Scaramouche to just go to the bedroom and read until you were ready for bed. You found it kind of cute how he couldn't fall asleep until you were with him, once he has said that it was the other way around but you knew he couldn't relax until you were holding him. A sudden knock brought you out of your thoughts. "Uh Scara use the other bathroom." You called out as you had just settled into the boiling hot water.
"Are you in the tub already?" He asked from the other side which caught you if gaurd.
"Yeah?" It sounded more like a question, he smiled and let himself into the bathroom, a steaming cup of tea in one hand and his latest book tucked under his arm as he came and sat beside the tub, smiling. He didn't say anything as he set his cup beside him, back towards you and he started reading, from the angle you were at, you could easily read over his shoulder. "Scara."
He simply hummed in aknowledgement, bringing his cup to his lips without looking from his book.
"What are you doing?"
"Reading," he says but you can see part of a grin on his face if you leaned forward enough.
"I meant what are you doing in here?"
"Observing, am I disturbing you? I can leave if it's a problem." He hadn't looked away from his book but you can tell his attention was on you.
You just smiled, reaching out and patting his head, laughing at how he tried to swat it away before you could get him wet. You soaked in the tub, closing your eyes after a moment and just listened to the sound of pages being flipped, the occasional snort or hum from Scara as he found something funny or mildly interesting. You had figured out a while ago that Scaramouche read just about any book he could get his hands on, he wasn't all that interested in a particular genre and once even admitted that he could care less for a story's plot, he just read because it was another form of observation to him. He liked seeing into people's minds, finding out their personality, what made them tick, he was strange like that but overtime you found it endearing, especially when someone did something that contradicted their goals or went against their morals. Scaramouche would lose his shit over it and you couldn't help but find it funny.
"You're not asleep in there are you?" His voice was teasing, you could hear the grin on his face.
"No, just relaxing," you open your eyes to find him suddenly turned towards you, book presumably on the floor as he had one hand outstretched to your face as if he was about to touch you. He froze, cheeks burning bright red at being caught.
"I uh..." he looked away quickly, eyes scanning the room in an attempt to find some excuse. "I should... Go... Get your towels. R-right! You're about to get out anyhow.. I-I'll be back." He was quick to leave the bathroom and you couldn't help but laugh at how cute he was when he got flustered like that. You sat up, getting ready to leave the now lukewarm water, rinsing the soap off of you before there was another knock. "I have your towels... Um, j-just come to the door and I'll hand them to you when you're out."
What a gentleman, you thought before draining the tub and carefully stepping out, opening the door just enough for him to shove the towels into your hands before shutting the door again. You wrapped one towel around your head and proceeded drying off with the other before putting on your pajamas. Once you left the bathroom, Scaramouche grabbed his book and tea and headed back to the kitchen to make himself another cup.
You headed to the bedroom and into your little corner where all your creams, oils and face masks were and begun your skincare routine. You heard the door open and watched in the mirror as Scaramouche headed to his side of the room, setting his fresh cup of tea down on his bedside table along with his book before heading to his closet to change. You took a few peaks at him in-between putting stuff on your face but thankfully he didn't notice. Once done he grabbed his cup and dragged his chair over to your corner and sat down, deep blue eyes scanning the contents of your table with interest. He didn't really understand what any of this stuff was for as he naturally had seemingly flawless skin, however.
"Can I try?" He asked, setting his cup down on the only free spot he could find and pointed at the moisturizer you were currently rubbing into your skin.
"You don't really need it though, and it's all crazy expensive so I don't wanna waste it." You hadn't intended to sound so stingy, but one glance at his face showed you had hurt his feelings. You sighed, here he was taking a genuine interest in something you found comfort in and you just told him you didn't want to waste the product like it was your life savings on the line. He hadn't said anything, just sipping his tea and watching, maybe he understood the logic in your statement, but that didn't make you feel like any less of an asshole for being so rude.
"How about instead of this, you can try the lotion? It does pretty much the same thing but it also helps with aching joints," you offered the bottle to him and his expression brightened once more as he put a tiny amount on his hands and began rubbing it into his elbows and shoulders. "It doesn't work right away but trust me you'll feel it in the morning." You smiled as he looked at the other things you had laid out. "This stuff is for my hair, if you want, I can put some in yours?"
"You don't mind?" He asked, just wanting to make sure he wouldn't be wasting anything.
"Yeah, come on we can do this on the bed!" You were excited now as you gathered your things and a brush and sat on the bed. "Here, sit in front of me and I'll do the rest." He say as told, grabbing his book and read while you put stuff in his hair. Some of it made him scrunch his nose up, the smell wasn't all that appealing. How had he never noticed this stuff in your hair? As you began brushing his hair, he felt strangely relaxed. Shoulders sagging, he leaned back slightly closing his eyes and just enjoyed the moment. He almost wished he had never cut his hair now since it didn't take long for you to brush his hair out.
"Wait... Could you keep doing that?" He asked after you had set the brush the down. You looked at him confused.
"But I got all the tangles out."
"I know just... it felt nice."
You smiled and got the idea, leaning forward enough to kiss his cheek, ruffled his hair a little. "Sure, just let me put up this stuff." You put your things away and got comfy on the bed once more, laying down now and Scaramouche instantly cuddled into you. You ran your fingers through his hair and he hummed, closing his eyes.
"I think I understand what you meant by all that stuff making you feel good about yourself now. It made me feel good too." He smiled and looked up at you, "Think I can join you again tomorrow?"
"Of course, it was fun having you there." You lightly scratched his head almost like he was a cat and he just melted into your touch, closing his eyes once more, only this time, he drifted off to sleep.
today's writing was breaking out the calculator while mapping out the timeline so i know precisely what year everyone was born and also what years everything happened
….theres new characters here. A command structure. This was just supposed to be a “hey, what would this look like if I included this trope” it wasn’t meant to close up a plot hole like it has
it's always the final chapter where I really get that sense of "am I a real writer? am I actually terrible?"
like, the whole entire rest of the writing process is me entirely certain that I have built up the skill level to be a good writer and the story being told is good and the job being done is good
