I gotchu <3

Too Sweet

Notes: Mostly fluff but there is some description of Capitano's rotting body, but that's as far as it goes. Also a pinch of angst but it's like adding salt to sweets, it just enhances the flavours :3

While he is by no means fragile, not by a long shot, the Captain hasn’t been able to simply walk off his injuries like he used to. As time passes on, he requires more maintenance and care in order to heal from those wounds. Sometimes “heal” feels a little generous for what he has to do to recover. You fear for the day he’s delivered a blow he cannot bounce back from, or that all the things you do for him will one day stop working.

You push the thoughts of the inevitable down. Right now, the tender loving care you have for your husband is working, and it’s working to delay the inevitable. 

You reenter the bathroom, a jar tucked under your arm, and see the Captain, in all his towelled, scarred and rotting glory, sitting on the edge of the tub. While the sight of blackened patches meshed with blue veins still pains you, the shock has long since worn off. He looks up at you when you step inside, and though there is little change in his expression, his eyes meet yours with warmth. 

You offer the jar to him. “Could you be a dear and—”

He doesn’t let you finish asking before he takes the jar and immediately, effortlessly pops the lid off. He looks at the liquid gold inside before he hands it back to you. You take it and set it on the sink counter for a moment, just so you can push his hair out of his face. 

It was something you discovered by pure coincidence. You were seeking out advice for your own beauty routine, and had heard all sorts of praise for the benefits of smearing honey on your skin. It led you to do your own research on the matter, discovering honey is antibacterial and, when stored right, does not rot. This then led to you learning of its use as an embalming agent in some cultures. The puzzle pieces all lined up and snapped into place, and you bought the largest jar of honey you could find for your husband. 

You begin the process of gently cleaning his face. You had done this just half an hour ago so you could stitch the large gash in his cheek, so you’re making sure you haven’t missed a spot. You are careful where you touch; there are parts of his body that have rotted to the point the nerves don’t work, and the nerves surrounding them are often exposed and functional. His tolerance for pain may be high, but he still feels pain, so you apologize when you get too close and see his eyes twitch for a split second. It’s not a lot, but you take your time with it, and he doesn’t mind that.

The day you suggested this sort of skincare routine to Thrain, he was a little perplexed. Not so much by the science of it, he actually seemed interested when you regaled your discovery to him, but more by the mental image of you slathering him in honey. He at first told you such treatment would not be necessary, and that it would really be a waste of good honey to use it on him as his condition cannot be reversed and is not the same as cadaver rot, but he ultimately relented. He understood where your interests and concerns stemmed from, and while he had accepted this fate, he knew you didn’t like it. He figured there was no harm in indulging you for an evening, even if it felt uncomfortably sticky. The rest, as they say, is history.

“Was this not originally for you?” Thrain asks as you dip your fingers in the jar.

You scoop up a generous portion and turn back to him. “Yes, but your skin is much more delicate than mine. I can find other remedies.”

He chuckles. “Only you would describe me as delicate.”

You gently smear and spread honey on his forehead. “I’d bet good mora that your associates would call you delicate too,” you tell him, “if they weren’t so scared of you.”

“I know that you cannot be referring to the other harbingers,” he replies. 

“Maybe, maybe not.”

By now, the routine is pure muscle memory. You scoop up honey, you gently knead it into his skin, and then you repeat the process on another part of his face. You do not knead it into his exposed wounds and his rot. As the honey needs to set for a bit before you can wash it off, you begin the routine for his wounds. 

You take a moment to wash your hands so you’re not getting honey all over the bathroom again. With clean hands, you find the bandages and begin cutting them into adequately sized strips and patches. You then undo the hard work of washing honey off your hands by soaking (or rather, slathering) the bandages in honey. 

After the honey has set, you carefully but thoroughly begin cleaning it off your husband’s good skin. It’s a bit of a process, but you’re successful once more. As soon as that is done, you begin the process of applying and layering the honey dressings over his rotted, wounded skin. You continue mumbling apologies when you press into raw, live nerves. 

You layer on the final bandage, and pull your sticky hand away from his face. You observe your work, making sure everything is sufficiently cleaned or sufficiently covered. Thrain just waits for your okay to get up so he can try and get dressed.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat when you abruptly plant a kiss on his warped lips. You pull back, licking your lips, and grin. “Tastes sweet.”

He just smiles. “Surely not as sweet as you are, my dear.”

ORDER shall be had

Just a lil updated design. Made him stand out more and cleaned up everything! Not sure on the name. Will it be the same? Or perhaps an alternate one.

The main thing I'm wondering is how much of my art from before I had a tumblr I should post here...