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|TW: Smut!!! Oral M! Receiving & Fingering M! Receiving. Body worship, minor religious word associations. It's very fluffy yet also angsty and full of yearning! This is a commission for @clancykisser for our trade featuring his incredible self insert and Clancy from tøp lore! I highly recommend checking his page out ✨️🫶
They all knew it was there. Marked impertinently on hushed, worn, & outlawed maps. The sort of maps that would result in thick tar-like paint being smeared across windpipes and skin should the Bishops ever hear the mumbling of loose lips and murmurs of its possession. It was slow, it was dark, it was suffocation, just the way it was designed to be.
However, what no one knew - that the mere splotched stretch of land they called “Voldsoy”could ever fully articulate - was its coldness. No one has ever truly experienced what it meant to be cold, until they’ve been to Voldsoy, or as the Bandito’s called it; Hell. Though, that was under the assumption that one could even return back from Voldsoy to describe the cold. As it is a task viewed as so perilous that it’s largely considered impossible and unattainable. Even a single step from your worn and muddy boot would sentence you to your burial ground.
Clancy pondered this melancholy as he trudged through the barren depths of Voldsoys wasteland; though he tried not to think of it for too long. The unmarked graves, the snap of either twig or bone - he wasn't sure which - and the strong smell of chlorine was already barring hard onto his psyche. He certainly didn't need anything more weighing him down on his mission: or rather his purpose. With razor-sharp eyes, he scanned the horizon for any signs of anomaly or movement. The elusive creature he sought after for almost a full month in solitude had to be near. Clancy was certain of it, though he supposed he had to be.
He could only take the cold silence for so long
…
Silence, now that was something Axel wasn't per-se a stranger too, rather, something he had developed a distaste for. It had nearly been a month since Clancy had departed the hidden cozy camp nestled between the mountains of Trench in search of something unspecified. However, he had promised the group of wary Banditos’ his swift return so that this, in his words, “... nightmare could finally be put to rest”. Again, that had been nearly a month ago, and his absence was deafening.
Axel sighed, staring off into the distance while picking absentmindedly at the bundles of dandelions that were nestled within the dirt. Clancy's absence- or rather borderline disappearance- had certainly affected Axel the most out of the small group. Night air once filled with the smell of firewood, marshmallows, laughter & ukulele ballads, had become virtually null overnight; and Clancy's ukulele, once the camp beacon of joy, had become the home of a few jumping spiders and webs. It was untouched.
“You've been out here awhile.”
The gravelly voice of Torch echoed through the wind, finally breaking the long streak of unsettling silence.
Somewhat startled by his appearance, Axel looked up towards the man. Realizing who it was, he relaxed slightly and feigned a polite smile.
“Yeah, suppose’ I have,”
Axel refocused his gaze back down towards the dandelion patch.
“...Do you think they have flowers in Voldsoy? I mean, I know it's supposed to be where the dead go- but, don't you think the dead deserve flowers?”
Torch shuffled awkwardly, before crouching down to level with the vibrant haired man next to him. He paused for a moment- then laid his worn fingers onto Axel’s shoulder gently.
“Axel…”
“...because I think they do,” Axel continued, rambling on and ignoring the feeling of fat and stinging teardrops welling up behind the facade of indifference.
“Everyone deserves flowers. You shouldn't have to die to receive them, you know?”
Torch nodded, silently plucking one of the dandelions from the patch. He twirled it between his fingers momentarily, as if deciding something, before delicately placing it behind Axel's ear.
“That includes you too, pretty boy,” Torch mumbled softly. “You need to take care of yourself, because I'm not going to be able to give you flowers like this if you die from being nothin’ but skin and bones.”
Axel stifled a sniffle, before interjecting:“I'm fine, Torch. I just haven't been super hungry. That's all.”
“You've ditched dinner for the last 3 nights.”
Axel opened his mouth as if to say something- but nothing came out- nothing could come out, but a sob that could only be used to articulate one's heart breaking. Torch slowly took the smaller man within his arms, cooing softly and running his digits through the forest of Axel's bright green hair.
“...im, i'm actually scared. Why hasn't he returned home?” Axel cried with staining tears, clinging onto Torch's green hoodie as if they were saying; ‘please don't leave me too’.
More silence began to suffocate through the air before Axel finally continued on, though fear began to trickle through his words:
“I should have given him more flowers while he was here- I should have done mor-”
Torch placed a calloused finger onto their lip and hushed them gently.
“You have done more than enough. You are enough.”
Torch paused briefly, his Aquiline nose nuzzling them tenderly before placing a gentle kiss onto the top of Axel's head, shushing them delicately.
“Clancy will come home. Remember his promise? He doesn't ever break those sorts’ of things.” he continued on, “...When he comes back, we'll go harvesting - and make him the biggest bouquet of flowers you've ever seen together. How does that sound?”
Axel looked up into Torch's hazel eyes with subsided tears and quiet hiccups. “Promise..?”
“I promise.”
Those were the exact same words that parted from Clancy's lips.
“I will come back home to you, you're my blood, my light. I'd swim the paladin strait if I had to. I promise.”
…
The next few days came and went with time blurring its lines. There were little to no changes in Axel's monotonous routine. The only difference being Torch's addmance on stricter mealtime attendance as well as the addition of mindful meditation practices to, in Torch's words: “help keep those pretty lil’ eyes on course,”. Albeit, one could only repeat positive mantras so many times before words lost meaning and the mind wandered to places it really shouldn't go. So, instead, Axel opted busy himself and hone his craft of creating beautiful objects from the mundanities of nature; the tiny things that often went unappreciated or noticed. A hobby he had picked up from Clancy. It started simple. On day 32, he had managed to carefully assemble 16 or so dandelion and daisy flower crowns as morale boosters for the Banditos’, courtesy of that patch from the other evening. When day 35 eventually rolled around, Axel had intricately wove together thick straws of reed and ferns to create a wobbly but nonetheless functional basket for foraging. That basket ended up being filled to the brim with wild huckleberries by day 36 and made into sweet, tart, and thick preserves on day 37. The jam was then gone by day 38.
It was on day 42 when Clancy finally returned.
The night was quiet except for the sudden rushing sound of footsteps, as one of the Bandito’s patrol squad members came bounding into view at full speed. Nearly out of breath, they paused, looking between both Axel & and Torch, whom both were previously immersed in a competitive game of cards.
“He- he’s back, Clancy is - he’s back.”
Axel was the first on his feet as the cards held within his now trembling hands fell onto the forest floor without care.
He didn’t even remember when he began to run alongside the scout. The sudden searing of his lungs, the cold air chapping his now burning face, and the aching pain of his heart pounding against his ribcage was overwhelming for his body to handle. His legs felt like jelly from nerves, fear, and worry; Though none of it even mattered, and everything was a blur within his peripheral. All that mattered was him, Clancy.
“...Clancy?”
Axel’s voice immediately dropped into a raspy whisper as their eyes met for the first time in what felt like eons. Clancy stood at the edge of the forest clearing with slouched shoulders and the aura of a dead man walking. He was paler than his usual peppery olive complexion, and his clothes were absolutely soaked to the bone; with mud puddling underneath his saturated and warped leather boots. In-between his white and frostbitten fingers, nimbly clung two ivory and polished antlers.
However, even more noticeable than anything was the ominous presence of thick black tar oozing down his neck. It looked almost iridescent in the moonlight, similar to that of oil and water; hauntingly beautiful, but everyone knew the burden it bore and the cost it tolled.
Clancy had yet to speak as he took a staggering step forward, the antlers clacking together gently as did; but not before Axel had barreled into him with frozen breath, nearly setting the two off balance. At that moment, Clancy didn’t speak. He simply couldn’t. Though the sound of Axel’s quiet sobs against his chest and the trembling vice grip around his waist drowned out any words he might have had.
“I thought you weren’t coming back” Axel weeped, burying his head deeper into Clancy - not caring if he was inadvertently soaking his own thin garments in the process. “I- I thought you had forgotten your promise.”
Clancy’s voice was weak when it came out - like that of a broken man - but he still had enough in him to give him a faint signature smile. It was the kind of toothy grin that was perfectly imperfect, with mismatched teeth and sharp canines protruding slightly from his lips, that smile was home.
“-Aw, c’mon now Axel, you know I couldn’t have done that, even if I wanted to,” Clancy sniffled indignantly. “If I didn’t come home, you woulda’ killed me in the afterlife. Now that's actually scary.”
Axel laughed heartily between sobs, the sort of laugh that he hadn’t felt since Clancy had left. It felt nice.
“You best believe I would, you menace,”
Slowly, a few Banditos had caught wind of the ruckus and began to excitedly gather at the treeline; with Torch among them, watching fondly with soft expressions. Axel moved his hands up slowly, running them delicately over Clancy’s soaked collar with trembling hands as if Clancy would shatter from even the smallest of touches.
“Let’s get you back to camp, you’re- you’re absolutely soaked! How did you even get like this?”
Clancy, with eyes weary, gave him a crooked smile.
“Remember that promise I made- that you thought I had broken? Well, let’s just say that I did what I had to do.”
“You swam the Paladin Strait?!”
“I did what needed to be done.”
…
After trudging under the moonlight back to camp that evening, Torch had boastfully created and stoked one of the largest fires he had ever made at the heart of the Bandito camp; Its flames were warm and wafting, crackling gently, and casting dancing shadows over nearby trees. The atmosphere was quiet and tender, as if everything was still too fragile to acknowledge.
Clancy sat near the flames, wrapped in one of Torch’s spare black cloaks that hung loosely around his slender frame. All while his boots steamed faintly in the distance, drying beside the fire, and the strange polished antlers he’d brought back from Voldsoy were set on the ground near his feet; sacred and unspoken. Axel made a mental note to ask about them later.
As for now, they were both alone sitting complacently in familiar silence. Torch had wandered off with the excuse of searching for more firewood, while the other Banditos had given the two space. While hundreds of unanswered questions with unspoken answers lingered in the air. Questions about the Paladin Strait, Voldsoy, the antlers, and about the black tar that still stained their leader's neck, marking him for death.
However, for now, Axel was the only one allowed to ask anything at all; and so he did, in the quietest voice he could manage, small and uncertain, as if it might disturb the fragile thread of peace Clancy had managed to sew back into existence.
“…Did you get hurt?”
Clancy didn’t answer right away, and instinctively curled his fingers tighter around Axel’s digits, squeezing them like he was afraid to let go- or as if this was some sort of sick dream he may accidentally wake up from if he thought about it too long.
“I can’t tell,” he said simply, his gaze meeting the floor with a hollowed expression. “...Not physically, at least.”
Axel felt his throat tighten before delicately whispering:
“Love?”
Clancy turned his head slightly, just enough to meet Axel’s gaze. The moonlight kissed his face- emphasizing the dark circles that had settled under his eyes- many sleepless nights in Voldsoy had clearly pulled his soul apart and shoved it back in wrong, and the mere sight alone broke Axel’s heart. But even through all of that, Clancy managed to give Axel that same crooked smile again. Tired and haunted, but Clancy nonetheless.
“I’m fine, little sunflower.” He said, playfully ruffling the top of Axel’s mop of hair. “I’m back now, and that’s what truly matters. I’m fine.”
Axel groaned, feigning a playful pout.
“Promise?”
But Clancy remained silent for that promise. And long after everyone had retired for the night, and when he thought no one was watching, Clancy swiftly grabbed his signature black and red cat-eared mask from off the drying rack and slipped it on before climbing back into his tent.
Little did he know, Axel saw everything.
…
Over the next few days, Axel had picked up on the irregularities and odd behavior of Clancy. Whether he was eating, sleeping, or even plucking away carefully at the frayed strings of his ukelele while he hummed in song; the mask never came off. Typically, his mask was reserved only for concealment purposes during missions - to keep his identity unknown to the Bishops - specifically Nico & Listo. Never to hide himself around the Banditos’, Torch, and most certainly not Axel. However, it seemed that the only glimpse he could ever catch of Clancy's face since his arrival was the edge of his chin or a peek of his cheekbone when he thought no one was looking. Such behavior screamed, fear, shame, and cruel insecurity; Something Axel could identify a mile away. After all, he had known Clancy since childhood - and before, he could even carry a whistle tune between childishly large, crooked teeth.
Sick of worrying and receiving the same robotic denials from Clancy; Axel had waited until after most of the Banditos had drifted off to sleep before padding silently up to Clancy’s tent Axel allowed himself to ghost its entrance momentarily, as he felt unsure if he should disturb Clancy at the late hour, or rather, the ghost that had clearly crawled its way back into Clancy’s life. Nevertheless, the thought of Clancy battling some sort of demons by himself had been enough to give Axel the push he needed; gulping down his doubt before finding the courage to unzip the tent's cover and crouch in.
The air inside the tent was humid, stale, and filled with the energy of something almost mournful; and the inside was downright a reflection of Clancy’s mind- messy and quite frankly- dark. Various maps and journals were haphazardly sprawled along the floor- with but a single dim lantern propped up onto a stack books- all of which possessed similarly themed titles such as:
"Dema: A History of Greatness, Dismantle Your Saturation",
or what piqued Axel’s curiosity the most,
"Mythical Creatures:Voldsoy’s NED”.
Old photographs and personal trinkets cluttered the rest of any sort of available real estate. And in the corner, laid messily in a pile of twisted sheets deep in slumber, was Clancy; still fully clothed in his cloak and worse yet, his mask. Though, even asleep and with that god-forsaken mask on, Axel couldn’t help but admire how breathtakingly beautiful Clancy was, possessing the sort of unconventional beauty that probably would make angels weep.
Axel stood quietly at the foot of Clancy’s nest like bed - momentarily, taking in the depressing atmosphere while silently cursing at how the tent’s flimsy tarped floor crunched beneath his weight with each small step.
Decidedly and with a hitched breath, Axel leaned closer; slowly raising his fingers toward the edge of the hooded mask, toying with its red stitching.
“I miss you,” Axel whispered, barely audible over the small hum of the lantern.
“and I miss your face more than I missed you playing those funny little ukulele songs.”
The slight pause and the twitch of a finger was enough for Clancy to stir awake with alarm, hastily pulling away from Axel's lingering touch. Clancy's eyes suddenly softened when he saw who it was.
“Axel- I- you startled me - it's late. You shouldn't be in here. It's a mess,”
“No, no, I shouldn't have barged in without asking - im so sorry - I just,” Axel stopped and gestured around the unkempt tent
“I'm worried about you. You haven't been yourself. Something has been bothering you, and I feel like I'm being shut out.” He continued on, softening his cadence :
“You've been quiet, and you haven't taken off your mask since you've been home, I mean, look at you - you even fell asleep with it on - that can't be comfortable or safe. So tell me please, what's going on?”
Axel got onto his knees, propping gently in front of Clancy, interlocking the other man's slender fingertips within his own.
“You're not alone, and you never will be alone - that has and always will be the case - until I take my final, dying breath.”
A faint sniff was heard from under Clancy's hood as he turned his gaze away groggily and in shame.
“...it’s just a lot, ya know…?” he began timidly. “The pressure. The eyes. So many eyes. All of those people out there - every single one of em’ are counting on me, putting their lives into my hands. Calling me their leader for Christ's sake,” Clancy's chocolate orbs met Axel's. “It's weird going from being alone and trapped in Dema for years to being considered a savior - when in reality, I'm a worthless man who just happened to get lucky.”
Clancy's confession filled the room with stillness and heartbreak.
“...Never say that you are worthless, never ever,” Axel said, breaking the quiet. “Maybe you weren't looking to be this revolutionary leader, but you are - these people chose you for a reason - I chose you for a reason.” Axel moved Clancy's laced fingers to his lips gently - the warmth of his breath and tickle of facial hair sending goosebumps up Clancy's arm.
“You are perfect - even when you're not. I love the way your eyes crinkle up in the corners when you’re thinking too hard about something, or the way your right fingertips are slightly more calloused than your left, even the stupid way you pretend that you're sick sometimes, just so that I'll cook you some homemade wild stew is perfect.”
Axel took in a breath
“I love you, Clancy. I wish you saw yourself the way I do.”
Clancy choked out a soft cry; the lump in his throat became almost unbearable.
“Axel, I-”
Axel shushed him gently
“Clancy, do you trust me? Will you let me show you how perfect you are..?”
Clancy wasn't sure if he would be able to speak: so he simply nodded, and squeezed Axel's hand; but that was all Axel needed to proceed with gently moving his attention onto Clancy's mask- hands dancing over the hem.
“May I…?” Axel asked - his eyes never left Clancy's orbs once.
He nodded.
The mask then came off, slowly, gently, and with absolute purpose. Revealing the lovely man before him.
Clancy's cheeks were hollowed from the unkind voyage from Voldsoy, and the elongated scar on the bridge of his nose was more prominent due to dirt and scuff; and his lips were plumply chapped.
“Absolutely perfect.” Axel mumbled before pressing his lips delicately onto Clancy's.
The kiss was slow and passionate, despite both their hearts ricocheting out of their cages and beating like war drums. Axel could almost feel every single crack of Clancy's lip glide hesitantly across his tongue- asking- no, begging for permission.
Let me in
I'll worship your temple.
I'll do anything.
Clancy's mouth obliged and opened wider, allowing for Axel's tongue to slide in, licking and salivating over every crevice his mouth had to offer; the taste of tears and wild thistleberries dancing wildly between the two men.
I'll do everything.
Slowly pulling away, Axel began to suck on Clancy's lower lip, nibbling it ever so slightly, as his hands ran underneath Clancy's shirt and onto his bare skin with a fiery touch. Trailing upwards to Clancy's now hardened nipples, toying, rolling, and pulling them between his eager fingers. The feeling was so intoxicating that Clancy bit back a stifled moan of pure ecstasy.
“mm’ so perfect n pretty, you're so fucking pretty,” Axel mumbled against Clancy's lips, “Im gonna show you, how much I love you”
Axel's fingers left Clancy's nipples- not without a frustrated cry of protest - before moving down to peel off Clancy's coat and then undershirt. He began tracing the other man's abdomen as if he were a Greek God's marble statue; perfect, blameless, fuckable. Axel gently pushed Clancy downwards onto the mattress and straddled him delicately, distributing his weight between both thighs evenly. His mouth absolutely watering at the sight of Clancy's splayed out sweaty body and tattoos; definitely so beautifully fuckable.
Axel leaned down, and began running his tongue fatly over each patterned tattoo Clancy's body possessed- leaving thick and sticky swipes of saliva over each intricacy of design; pecking and nibbling over his favorite ones, though worshipping them all just the same.
An agnostic who had found his religion in another man's body: Axel praised every inch of Clancy’s skin as if it were penance. It couldn't possibly be blasphemy if his born-again purpose was this moment; to praise this beautiful man.
Clancy moaned pornograpically, bucking his hips in reaction to Axel’s tongue licking flat against the underside of his top scars and latching onto his nipples with a tight-lipped suck. An obvious stain forming on his tight black jeans making it pitifully obvious in his need to seek friction, release. Clancy’s breath hitched as Axel’s fingers brushed against the damp fabric of his trousers, the evidence of his arousal impossible to hide. The air in the tent grew thick with anticipation and lust.
Fuck.
Axel took to Clancy's cue; not wanting to keep him waiting- he released from Clancy's nipple with a simple lick and pop, before hastily undoing Clancy's trousers and briefs- pulling them down and throwing them aside carelessly to match with the rest of his astray belongings. Revealing Clancy’s wet dick with the beautiful weeping tip, oozing down into his tight and throbbing cunt needily. Axel greedily took in the sight. Admiring the way the dim and flickering lantern cast soft shadows over Clancy’s body, highlighting the sharp angles of his once poorly bound chest, his pointed hips, and the tantalizing v-line leading towards his fat dick dripping with slick.
“Fuck, Axel- I-I,”Clancy whimpered, his voice choked with lust and approbation.
Axel leaned down in response, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin just below Clancy’s navel, his nose being tickled by the tufts of unkempt brown pubic hair; Absent-mindedly allowing his lips to follow along the inner curve of Clancy’s thigh. Each touch is a deliberate, vow of devotion. Clancy’s moans grew louder and more unrestrained, filling the tent with a sound that was both sinful, divine, and enough to garner odd looks when the morning came, but neither of them cared, only their devotion mattered.
Clancy gripped the sheet with white knuckles as Axel’s mouth finally found him, tongue swirling against the throbbing heat of Clancy’s dick, before taking him fully into his mouth.
“God- Axel- You’re so- I-I-I love you, you are; aaah-hng”
Clancy’s mouth fell open in a string of incoherent praises and vulgarities; each one more explicit than the last as Axel delicately sucked and licked at Clancy’s dick like a starving and depraved man. Clancy began to feel that familiar warmth bubbling within his core, like a rubber band being stretched beyond its means and about to snap.
“Axel- baby- im- im, imma gonna cum soon’ mmmm please-”
Axel squeezed Clancy’s thigh reassuringly, running his tongue expertly between the folds of his dick; causing the rubber band to finally snap.
Clancy let out a guttural, animalistic groan as Axel’s mouth overflowed with the salty creamy slick of Clancy's pulsating arousal.
The act of watching Axel swallow every single drop of sinful evidence, with wide and eager eyes, was enough to set something off in Clancy. Suddenly, growing aware of the offensive amount of clothes Axel was still wearing.
“My turn, sunflower,”
He cooed breathily, whilst flipping Axel on his back in a singular swift move, with a craving to unravel the layers Axel kept hidden.
“m’ gonna love on you so much.” Clancy groaned into Axel with warm and aphrodisiac breath, trailing kisses under his jawline; while skilled fingers lustfully peeled down Axel’s pants and undergarments, until they found Axels weeping bussy
“God, You have no idea what you do to me,”
his digits were swirling in mesmerizing circles like a shark about to latch onto its prey; and Axel whimpered, feeling the sticky liquid of his arousal soak onto Clancy's bewildered bedsheets. Though he was unsure if it was from Clancy's mere vulgar words or touch - or perhaps both.
“I love you so much” Clancy murmured before inserting his index finger fully into Axel's needy hole. “Say it, say that you know I love you,”
“I- i- Clancy!” Axel cried “I need more of you, please,”
“C'mon now pretty boy, use your words love, I know you can,”
“I- hmg, I know you love me, now please,”
Without missing a beat Clancy inserted two more fingers into Axel, stuffing him to the brim, while scissoring them with absolute greed; the lewd sound of pearly discharge and cum filling one another's eardrums.
Minutes of this erotomania went by, as the tides within Axels core began to rise and fall within his core: another band about to-
Snap.
Axel’s tight cunt spasmed and convulsed tightly around Clancy's digits with a milking squeeze. And he exhaled a breath he wasn't aware he was even holding- with an inaudible tremble parting forcefully from his lips in ecstasy. Clancy slowly removed his fingers, but not before sucking them absolutely clean with a crass slurping sound and bedroom eyes.
With shaking legs and droplets of sweat clinging onto their bodies as a reminder of their penance, Clancy fell backward onto the mattress accompanying Axel, wrapping his warm and defined forearm underneath his partner's soft flesh.
“What's, uh, what made you wanna do all that?” Clancy inquired shyly. Flush rising noticeably through his cheeks and ears- turning them a unique shade of crimson.
“Well, I missed you, and it's been over a month since we've last, you know…” Axel started - blood now rushing into his own face now
“Plus, I've always felt that way about you. You may not always see it or notice it - especially through all of the burdens you have to carry - but you've always will and always be pure art.”
He mouthed softly against the scar, protruding along the bridge of Clancy’s nose, and paused. Sitting with the quiet.
“Guess I never told you so,”
…
The next morning was quiet; though not like before: it was a comfortable and safe sort of silence.
And when Clancy's eyes fluttered open, eyelashes dusted with glittering beams of the rising sun, he saw the largest bouquet of wildflowers fathomable. Arrangements of vivid sunflowers, dandelions, daisy's and chrysanthemums were meticulously placed in between clusters of wild ferns. Replaced delicately where Axel had previously fell asleep in his arms hours prior. Nevertheless, in the center of the arrangement lay a simple promise written on scrawled parchment:
Toast here asked me to make a tune for their Welcome Home OC, Dandy Leon, and the lovable Wally Darling. A sort of love song, if you will. Add on top of that an idea for a written scene between the two and you have this!
(Also I'm eating up your comments in Discord, please know that /pos)
This is my 29th creation. This is for Dandy Leon and Wally Darling. A song of spring, being in bloom, and many references to Dandy's Delights (for this is a tune with Dandy in it!). The goobers are waltzing in the garden and having fun little stumbles, but they're enjoying themselves because the world is in bloom.
Summary: Wally wants to paint someone to day. But who should he paint? Barnaby suggests to him, "Why not Dandy?"
Word Count: ~2.8k words
TW: None
Author’s Note: Enjoy! Also on AO3 as a gift.
One day, Wally Darling woke up and decided that he was going to paint today.
If someone were to ask him why, like his best friend did when the large blue pooch stopped by the painter’s sentient house, he couldn’t explain it. “I just want to paint today, Barnaby,” Wally said in his signature monotonous voice. He pocketed some of his paintbrushes and tubes of acrylic paint in the pockets of his blue cardigan as he added, “I have a problem, though.”
“Eh? What’s botherin’ my lil’ apple today?” Barnaby B. Beagle asked as he leaned against Home’s outer walls. The dark blue ear closest to the front door perked up as he joked, “Ain’t it too early to feel gray? I thought that was Frank’s job!” The dog howled in laughter, then in mock pain as Home lightly smacked him with his door. “Alright, alright! I get it Home!”
Wally laughed a quiet little “Ha ha ha,” even though he didn’t quite get what was funny about the joke. The few times he had asked Barnaby to explain a joke to him, his best friend had groaned and placed a paw over his snout.
“A joke ain’t funny if I hafta explain it,” he had said, “but for you, lil’ buddy, fine. I will.” Barnaby had patted his shoulder to show that he meant no ill will with his tone, but that night and for the next few ones, Wally had tried and failed to squash the thought that he might’ve ruined his best friend’s jokes forever.
“Home, I get it. No makin’ fun of the sourpuss– Home!” Barnaby let out a few more laughs, then thumped at his chest twice as he cleared his throat. “Lil’ buddy, ya said ya had a problem?”
“Oh, yes. I have a problem.” Wally wordlessly gave Barnaby a blank canvas, then his folded wooden easel. The former was off white and lightly textured, while the latter was light brown with splatters of miscellaneous colors. The hinges were squeaky with use and no longer smelled of wood but instead, it smelled faintly of chemicals from the paints he used.
It was bad for him, according to Frank and Poppy, but he found it comforting. Could something that was bad also be comforting? He would have to ask someone about it.
But, that was for later. Another problem for later.
“I don’t know what to paint,” Wally said as he grabbed his palette, stepped outside, and closed the door. He craned his neck up, took a few steps away from his taller friend, then craned his neck a little less. “I don’t feel like painting red apples. But I like painting red apples. I don’t feel like painting you, but I like painting you too.” He fiddled with one of his paintbrushes, running the clean bristles over his fingers as he asked, “What should I do, Barnaby?”
“Well, gee Walls.” Barnaby furrowed his brow as he exhaled through his nose. “How’s about ya paint one of your neighbors?”
“Oh. That’s a good idea.” Wally paused stroking his fingertips with the paintbrush bristles, then resumed as another problem made itself apparent. “But who? Who should I paint today Barnaby?”
“Well, you can’t paint me! You said you didn’t wanna.”
“I still love you Barnaby.”
“Yeah, love ya too.” Barnaby started to thump his foot on the ground, quietly letting out a low growl as he thought. “Who have ya painted?”
“I’ve painted you, Barnaby. I’ve painted Julie, and I’ve painted Frank. I’ve painted Sally, and I’ve painted Poppy. I’ve painted Eddie, and I’ve painted Howdy.” Wally counted off each neighbor on each of his fingers, and he was left with one finger left standing. “I’ve tried to paint Home, but Home is very large and requires a lot of time. I will finish Home’s portrait soon.”
Home creaked an apology.
“It’s okay Home.”
“Huh. How about ya paint one of our other neighbors?” Barnaby asked. “How’s about that one with the sunflowers in their yard? Dandy?”
“Dandy?” Wally stopped brushing his fingertips as the name bounced around his head, trying to attach itself to a face. Sunflowers in their yard…green…brown hat…flowers. But not Julie’s type of flowers. Julie’s flowers were loud and vibrant, brave and running towards what she loved. Flowers attached to Dandy’s name were bright, yes, but they were gentle. They curled away from harsh words and they bloomed in the quiet moments.
The painter gasped. “Oh! Yes! I should paint Dandy!” Almost at once, the floodgates in his brain opened. Ideas flooded his mind, breaking through darkness with shades of green and yellow and red. He almost wished that he was as big as Barnaby so he could walk further with each step. His plans of painting couldn’t wait!
Barnaby let out a howl of laughter and gestured to the main road with a jerk of his head. “C’mon lil’ apple. Let go get your sunflower’s portrait painted.”
“My sunflower?” Wally asked as the pair started on the journey to the gardener’s house. “Barnaby, the sunflowers belong to Dandy. And I will be painting Dandy, not their sunflowers.”
The blue dog snickered. “Alright lil’ buddy.”
Wally didn’t understand that joke either.
The sun shone down on the pair of best friends as they approached the earthy-colored house. Even from a distance, the yellow flowers stood tall towards the sun, almost greeting them with how they were turned towards them. Some were lightly tied to wooden stakes, but they still looked healthy.
Standing next to the sunflowers was a puppet with green felt, short and fluffy brown hair, and squarish glasses on their face. The sleeves of their brown cardigan were partially rolled up as they inspected some of the leaves of the sunflowers, their face deep in concentration as their mouth moved slightly with words that were too quiet to hear.
“Heya Dandy!” Barnaby barked out as the distance between the puppets started to close.
Dandy jumped and looked up from their work. Their eyes widened and they scrambled to dust off their clothes, roll down their sleeves, and step out of the thick of their sunflowers. “Wally! Barnaby!” they called back. “What can I do for y’all?”
“Funny, they called your name first Walls,” Barnaby murmured.
“That was supposed to be funny?” Wally asked.
“Eh.” Barnaby shrugged and turned his attention back to Dandy. “Wally here wants to paint ya.”
Wally watched as Dandy’s gaze rapidly turned to him, hovered for a moment too long, then turned back to his best friend. “Me?” the gardener asked as they pointed to themself. Their gaze turned back to Wally as they repeated, “You want to paint me?”
“Yes,” Wally breathed. “I want to paint you, Dandy.”
“I — ” The gardener's hands started to wave dismissively as their eyes dropped to the ground. “I don’t think I’m good enough to be painted! I’m a mess, and I have dirt on my hands. My hair is messy, and I have to send some flowers to Howdy’s — ”
With one swift motion, Barnaby unfolded Wally’s easel and placed it down nearby. He then patted Dandy’s head and chuckled at the yelp of surprise the gardener let out. “Re-lax Dandy. Walls here ain’t gonna eat cha alive!”
Wally’s fingers tightened around his cardigan for a brief moment. His eyes itched.
Not today. Not today.
Barnaby placed the blank canvas down on the empty easel and patted Wally on the shoulder before he bid the two shorter puppets farewell and walked away. “Peace out ‘n have fun! I’ll be at Howdy’s if ya need me!”
Wally waved goodbye to the blue dog, then turned his attention back to Dandy. “I will be painting you soon, neighbor.”
“Wally,” Dandy murmured. They kept looking at the ground, their voice even quieter than when Barnaby was there. Their brows were furrowed slightly and their mouth was pressed together in a thin line. “You don’t have to paint me. I think there are better neighbors to paint than lil’ ol’ me,” they chuckled. At the last half of their sentence, they sounded a bit like Eddie.
“I want to,” Wally countered. “I really do want to paint you.” He started to take out some of the acrylic tubes and laid them on the excess wood of the easel. He untwisted some of the caps to loosen them up, then carefully squeezed a bit of paint onto his palette one at a time. A bit of black and white in the corner for mixing, then green here and yellow there. Blue as well, and brown was very important.
“I woke up today and wanted to paint,” he confessed. “But I didn’t want to paint red apples or Barnaby, even though I love both red apples and Barnaby very much. Oh, thank you Dandy.”
The gardener blushed as they helped screw the caps of the paints back on. “I can getcha a cup of water for your paints. And a stool, if you want one.”
“A stool for the paint water would be nice, thank you.”
As Dandy hurriedly walked inside their house, Wally made it his mission to stare at the blank canvas with a paintbrush in one hand and his palette in the other. He had the subject, and he had the colors. He had the idea, no matter how faint it was. But now that he was here, with his subject nearby and with his colors laid out, the idea was rapidly vanishing.
His grip on the paintbrush tightened. The pose. How should Dandy pose? And any objects? Should they be holding anything in their hands? How much of Dandy should he paint?
He wanted to paint today, that he knew. But why was it so hard to paint?
“ —lly? Wally?”
The pompadoured puppet let in a sharp inhale of air and turned towards the voice.
Dandy gasped in return, backing away slightly. They bumped against the stool where an old cup filled with water sat, and they cried out to catch it as it wobbled precariously. “Golly! I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Wally said. He found his voice again — again; he was losing it…what year was it? — and forced himself to take a slow, calm breath. “I still want to paint you, Dandy. But, I’m having trouble imagining how I want to paint you.”
“Paint me however you want Wally, and I’m sure it’ll look nice.” Dandy’s gaze alternated between him and the ground, and their felt still showed hints of a blush. Pinkish, maybe red.
Like apples.
Wally slowly raised his paintbrush and started to circle it in midair, pretending that the ends of the brush were covered in red paint. He brushed an imaginary stroke upwards to make a stem, then two smooth lines to make a leaf. He liked apples. Those were the first things he painted.
What did Dandy like?
“Oh!” he gasped. “Dandy, can I paint you with sunflowers?”
“Sunflowers?” Dandy repeated. “The tall ones or the ones I picked earlier for Howdy’s?”
Wally paused. He looked at the sunflowers that towered above their heads nearby. Instead of looking friendly, they now looked intimidating. “I want to paint you with the sunflowers closer to your face.”
“My face? Oh, you’re going to paint my face?” Dandy’s hands waved, though not as erratically as Julie. “Can’t I hide behind my sunflowers? I’m a mess like I said and the sunflowers are more beautiful than I am and — ”
“Dandy.”
Dandy stopped.
“I think my neighbors look beautiful on my canvas because I paint what I see.” Wally’s smile widened as he added, “And I think the painting I want to do with you and your sunflowers will be beautiful too.”
If Dandy’s face could turn into a pretty red apple, it would. The gardener sputtered something before they stumbled away and stumbled back with a large bouquet of sunflowers in their hands. Dozens of yellow petals shone outwards, almost giving Sally a challenger for the brightest one in the neighborhood. In their centers, hundreds of seeds created a dark contrast.
In the middle of it all, Dandy’s face was buried in it.
Wally didn’t mind so much. He needed to paint the sunflowers first.
So began the long and slow process of mixing colors to create the right shade, then applying them onto the canvas in gentle strokes. The petals were abstract shapes at first, radiating from a circle of darkness in the center. As Wally switched brushes and added details, the sunflowers gained personality. Individual petals started to differentiate, and someone could pluck out the seeds if they wished to.
He dipped the brush in the murky paint water and started on the puppet. He looked around the canvas and saw Dandy’s face still buried in the sunflowers.
That was no good.
He placed the paintbrush on the stool and slowly approached them. “Dandy. Could you lift your face up please? I need to paint it.”
Dandy hesitantly complied, but most of their face was still covered by yellow petals. “The sunflowers are more beautiful,” they faintly insisted. “They’re in bloom.”
“You are in bloom too,” Wally said. Despite his brush hand smelling slightly of paint, he reached out and cupped his hand against Dandy’s cheek. He gently lifted their warm face up and out of the sunflowers and said, “You are in bloom, Dandy. Like the sunflowers, and the apple blossoms.
“I woke up and wanted to paint today. I wanted to paint, and you are in bloom. Why should I not paint a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers and the neighbor that grew them?”
A long, palpable pause stretched out between the two. Wally wondered if he made a mistake with this. He knew that Frank didn’t like to be touched very often, so what if Dandy was the same?
Then, Dandy slowly smiled. Their smile radiated through the sunflowers, and for a second, Wally thought that the gardener was the most pretty flower he’d seen.
His own smile widened and he withdrew his hand. “This…this is the most! I will paint this now!” He swiftly came back to his canvas and started mixing the right shade of green. The portrait slowly came together. First the general shape, then the details. The highlights came last. A few broad strokes for a blue sky, and…!
“Dandy, it’s done.” Wally placed each used paintbrush into the murky paint water, one by one as he waited for the subject of his painting to shuffle around the easel to look at his work.
On the canvas, were dozens of sunflowers arranged in a strong bouquet intermixed with delicate petals. The sunflowers themselves were made of strokes of yellow and circles of black, highlighted by elegant lines that made each detail pop. In the middle of it all, was a puppet whose smile was the centerpiece of the painting. Eyes slightly squinted shut from how wide they were smiling, a hint of red on their cheeks, and hands that held the entire bouquet together by their stems.
A gasp followed by a squeal of joy. Hand waving and heel bouncing briskly followed, alongside quiet bursts of “It’s so beautiful!” and “The detail on the sunflowers!”
Wally watched Dandy go through several levels of joy and awe, and the semi-permanent smile on his face softened. His partially-lidded eyes took in the small details: brown eyes that sparkled at the work of art on the canvas; the little yellow flower on their hat that never wilted; gentle flowers that reached towards the sun, fingers curling around the drops of light and holding it close.
Quiet.
“Do you want to keep it?”
“I…I shouldn’t.” The light was escaping from their fingertips.
Did he do that?
“I insist. I would be honored if you took it.” Wally gingerly took the still-drying painting and held it out towards Dandy. “I want you to have it.”
Dandy’s mouth pressed into a thin line as they looked down at the ground for a moment, then thrust the sunflowers in front of them. “Take these. I’d feel bad if you didn't have something in return. I can always get more for Howdy, it’s not a big deal.”
The next minutes were spent juggling an exchange; between trying not to touch any paint on the canvas and not dropping any sunflowers on the ground, the two spent an excessive amount of time trying to give each other the items. In the end, Dandy was left holding their portrait and Wally had a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.
Dandy lightly bounced inside their house, and Wally was left outside with a sunny-smelling bundle of flowers counteracting against the chemical scent of his acrylics. He buried his face within the flowers and deeply inhaled. Between strong whiffs of paint, he breathed in drops of sunlight.
“The most,” he exhaled. “These are the most.”
For the next several days, anyone who peeked in the window of Home could catch a glimpse of a vase filled with cut sunflowers. They were perky and alive, and it certainly complimented a fresh red apple that always sat next to the vase for as long as the sunflowers lived.
Ko-fi Commissions Open! Click to see luna🌙's commission menu.
🌸 Hi, I am doing writing commissions through Ko-fi starting at 300 words or less for $5! 🌸
I also do commissions through email and Discord!
All of the prices for my commissions are currently discounted for the first ten orders!
To order a commission from me through email, simply send an email to [email protected].
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I would love to write something beautiful for you! 💕
If you order a commission, please send a very specific description of what you want in your writing piece. This can include setting, characters, perspective, personalities of characters, any background information I would need to know about anything in the writing piece, and even more!
I will only accept SFW commissions through Ko-fi. For commissions involving smut, kinks, or fetishes, please order through Discord. Please don't request a sexual writing piece from me through Ko-fi. I will say no.
Hey guys my writing commissions are open because I'm really short on money and I have to pay my bills, if you have any questions that are not on my sheet feel free to dm I'm also willing to do half trade and half money too ^^
A/N: Commission for DestiniDestati! Thank you so much again for your support~! Chapters 8 and 9 will gradually release in the coming weeks as I work on them!
Chapter 7: The Truth Whispered Through the Night
Prompto was apparently up at that hour, stretching from the small amount of sleep he was able to obtain. Noticing me there at the docks, he called out to me.
I wasn't too startled, but my own thoughts had caused me to tense just for a moment; especially given all that Ignis and I had discussed prior. “Oh, Prompto,” I greeted, trying my best to hide the sorrow that labored my words. “What are you doing up?”
“I could, uh, ask the same about you,” he wearily chuckled. Making it to my side, he kissed my cheek with that same smile that could always light up the darkest of nights. “So what’s on your mind?”
I breathed out a small sigh at his question. “You know me too well, it seems.”
“Of course. We’ve been together for over ten years.” Prompto shrugged. “I know you about as well as Noct, or at least, I want to say I do. Rarely do you walk away on your own unless something is bothering you.”
I managed a smile to the best of my ability. Felt like even some unknown force was desperate to have me spare a moment to tell Prompto about what I and Ignis spoke of earlier.
But… not here.
“You’re not too tired to go for a walk with me, are you?” I asked, grabbing his hand to hold tightly.
He raised his brow at the tone I no doubt carried when I spoke. He was quite perceptive, that was for certain. All those years, and it seemed his best qualities only got stronger. “Sure. I am fine with that.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “I think they have a lot of the brighter lights on near the coast. We can head there just to avoid any daemons.”
That would be best. I didn't want to get interrupted and lose my nerve to tell another beyond Ignis. “Sounds wonderful. Let’s go.”
Now that I’m done with my thesis I’m opening up for commmissions, both writing and art. I know it’s a bit inconvenient right now as a lot of people are out of work due to the pandemic, but I’m needing to stay fed myself as I begin my search for jobs and/or fellowships.
My rate starts at $5 USD/100 words
What I won’t do: scat, vomit, piss, extreme torture/brutality, l*li/sh*ta, zoo, BBW fetish
What I will do: pretty much everything else, though if you want me to write sensitive material I reserve the right to negotiate price or subject matter, or to turn it down
As an example, here is a written commission I did for the lovely @mooonbride
