Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

[1]

The first thing I feel when I wake is the cruel, icy floor biting into my skin.

I am sprawled on my chest, the side of my face pressed against the smooth, hard surface. The cold bites into my skin, numbing my nerves. Each breath draws in sharp, frigid air that gnaws at my lungs, punishing me for daring to inhale.

I strained my eyes open, but it was a useless effort. It made no difference; everything before my eyes is pitch black.

It is quiet and still. Almost serene, though terrifyingly so. The… Eyes. They are silent. My breathing echoes loudly in the space, and the beating of my heart audible. My ears are ringing. I am completely alone.

Where am I?

I try to move, but my body, a crushing weight on itself. My limbs lie limp and pathetic by my side.

Am I this frail now?

Annoyed, I use my magic to lift myself, as I do whenever my physical body fails.

Nothing.

I try again.

The air around me barely stirs.

Impossible.

My magic is useless. I don't feel it coursing through my dough as it always does.

My mind churns. How is it even possible? My magic has never failed me, even if most of my soul jam is with that wretched Vanilla liar. My magic has always been mine since the day I was created by the Witches.

How did I even end up here? What happened—

The realisation dawns upon me.

The last thing I recall is those pesky cookies daring to challenge me. There was a battle and… what happened after? No clear outcome from thinking, but one possibility stands out.

Could it be that I was bested?

Was I, the almighty Master of Deceit, defeated by some, what, friendship-is-power believing cookies?

How could this be?

I curse and curse them down to their very flour.

If I am here in wherever this is, alone, could it be that…

Am I…

Dead?




…

Am I finally free?

Can I finally no longer be the villain?                                 

Clank.

A loud thud breaks the silence, amplified by the space, causing me to jolt horribly. A sharp, terrifying chill runs through me, planting a seed of fear in me, growing rapidly. I still can’t see a thing.

A blurry, small line of light grows from the horizon, from the floor before me. My eyes squint instinctively as the light continues to grow further up. It stops when my vision was finally focused, at around the height of a door. Then the line of light expands horizontally, spilling more light into the space. The warm light blinds me.

A figure appears in the light, its face hidden in the shadows from the powerful beam.

Despite being unable to see who the unknown figure is, it’s uncannily familiar. It eases the fear in me. It somehow gives me a sense of… comfort. I am strangely glad to see the figure, even though I don’t recognise it.

A cloud of haze has begun its descent on my consciousness.

Is this death?

Has it come to claim me?

It approaches me and kneels before me. It wraps its arms around me. Warmth gently envelops me, cradling me in its embrace. It soothes the cold. The numbness is chased away. It feels like sinking into warm, soft clouds, like the ones Eternal Sugar Cookie enjoys lounging on. It’s safe and warm.

It doesn’t hurt anymore.

How would the other cookies be? The beast probably won't care; they’d rejoice at my demise. The rest of Earthbread would follow in celebration. Finally, one less terror on Earthbread.

What would happen to Candy Apple Cookie and Black Sapphire Cookie? Candy Apple Cookie would cry profusely if she found out that I'm gone. The Spire would no longer be there to protect them anymore. Hopefully, Black Sapphire Cookie would keep his promise.

I am lifted into the air, my legs dangling off the arm of the figure, and both of my hands folded on my abdomen. The figure carries me towards the light.

The end of the show is here.

My soul is to be taken.

Then, the Jester shall leave the stage.

I rest my head on the figure, enjoying one final embrace. My eyes close as we enter the light, welcoming the final rest.

Chapter Text

[2]

Somehow, my eyes open once again.

I am met with glaring light that stings hard the moment my eyelids part, causing me to squeeze my eyes back shut instantly. My hands reach up to my own eyes automatically, in an attempt to cover them. I could see the light through my eyelids, filtered in blue.

I frown, and hear the phantom whinings of the Eyes, but only silence comes. The Eyes are not with me, and neither is my magic.

Is this the afterlife?

After a while, I crack my eyes open slightly. All I see is the blue cloth ceiling of a canopy bed.

A jarring headache hammers my skull instantly as my senses return to me.

Clutching it, I lift my head stiffly. I could move now.

I take in my surroundings. I am in a large bedroom. There is a floor-to-ceiling window right across the bed, with long purple curtains framing each side of it. A balcony with wafer railings lies beyond the windows. The walls are a gentle shade of yellow, like those of white chocolate. A simple Roll Cake Wood desk, chair and bookshelves decorate one part of the room. Blue hues are littered amongst the pale yellow.

It appears there is an abundant possibility that this is not the afterlife.

I am lying between soft, cream-coloured sheets upon a large, cosy bed.

I drag my body to sit up—it took tremendous effort. The room spins instantly. My eyes hang half open as my mind is soaked in lethargy.

Have I been here before?

The door creaks open.

A small, young cookie enters. Faint surprise glimmers in his eyes as they meet mine, as if my awakening was unexpected, but it is gone in the next moment. He has custard-blond hair topped by a small wafer hat, and wears a plain white robe with a brown forecloth around the waist. A Vanillian. My jam ran cold.

I am in the last place I want to be.

The Vanillian smiles innocently as he carries a tea tray filled with juice and buns.

“Good morning, sir! Hello! I’m glad that you are awake. How are you feeling?” he greets cheerfully, approaching the bed with a subtle bounce in his steps.

Hot anger mixed with cold fear washes over me as he comes closer. I stiffen, my shoulders tense.

I keep my eyes on him as he climbs onto the bed, settling by my side. The tray in his small hands is balancing nicely. He shifts, getting too close. My jaw tightens.

What is this gullible thing doing— what is happening— why is he— why is a Vanillian here— where exactly even am I—

I fight to hold my composure, but my head is thrown on a fast-spinning carousel, which serves no help.

“Sir? Are you feeling alright?” Concern touches his face, and he frowns as he takes in my face better.

He places the tray on the bed. “Sir?” his hands reach out to my face.

My hands raise impulsively, slapping his hand away hard.

“Get out,” I say, my tone cold and hard.

His eyes widen.

“Sir, I’m- I’m so sorry. I didn’t-”

“I said. Get. Out.” My hand shoots to the cup of juice on the tray, chucking it to the floor. It crashes loudly on the floor, spraying sugar glass pieces everywhere and spilling its contents on the floor.

The young cookie freezes in petrified fear, his lips wobbling indistinctly. Slight redness creeps into the corner of his eyes.

“Get out!” I shout.

Hastily, he scrambles off the bed and hurries out of the room.

I step off the bed and rush towards the door, staggering as I do. The sugar glass pieces that litter all across the floor crunch under my feet, stabbing into my dough. I ignore the repetitive sharp pain from each step I take, slamming the door shut and locking it. My balance is completely thrown off, and I crash into the door. I lean heavily on the Roll Cake Wood surface, groaning. My legs feel even softer and soggier, and they barely support my weight, threatening to give out any second.

The room spins uncontrollably.

Deliriously, I stumble to grab a chair by the desk from across the room, propping it against the door, lodging it shut. I walk towards the window, tugging the curtains close.

The room plummets into darkness, leaving only slits of faint light seeping from the edges of the curtains.

I stand by the curtains, eyes travelling frantically across the room, looking for dangers that might leap out from the cracks at any time. Air forces itself in and out of my airway as it tightens, scraping along it. My chest aches as my heart hammers loudly.

Slowly, with trembling legs, I sink into the floor. I hug my legs, shifting backwards until I make contact with the wall. I press myself against it, making myself as small as possible.

It metaphorically eased the dizziness.

My hair pools around me. I stare at it, at the spot where the Eyes always were. There was nothing. My hair was plain blueberry jam. The Eyes are gone.

Even while sitting, my body still trembles. I have no energy left to spare other than staying in this position. I am weak once more.

The sugar glass bites deeper into my dough, with jam seeping out profusely. The pain kept me company.

The room fell silent.

Chapter Text

All existing "bloopers" of this fanfic [2.1](beta 3.0)

i might move this to the end of the work idk

!! MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS TO THE REST OF THE FIC!!

()=SMC
[]=azurite

> (im helpless i cant do shit bro i cant magic girl my way out help)

> “No!” I shift away urgently. The motion causes [balh shit pain ahhh]. [...]

> "I don’t need your help!” i shouted instinctively, baring my teeth at him. But curse the damn witches i do need help but im not gonna admit it! It hurts but im going to ignore it because acknowledging it is weak! [mood smc mood][lowkey smc is so relatable]

> his face (worried; that damn pitiful ahh look bro r u fr rn can you not)

> “Because I can't. I can't just leave you like this, Shadow Milk Mookie”

> Pure Vanilla Vookie stands in his usual golden-yellow vestment over white robes.[...]

[what's next? black pearl pookie??? canon event tho.]

erhm that's all have a nice day ayya


update: the 3rd chapter alr has 700 words and im not even done with the draft erhm it might be long ERHM

update: might go on hiatus a bit gotta work on another project. might.

Chapter Text

[3]

Some time passed. 

How long exactly, I cannot gauge. When was the last time I knew when it was, and where was I?

The room appears to become darker by the second. My eyes tempt me to close them as fatigue seeps deeper into my mind like sickening poison. My head drifts to rest on my forearm that is propped on my drawn knees.

No. I mustn’t. I force my head up. I must ponder properly.

The query of my whereabouts has already been served with an obvious answer. Wafers, pastel blues, and cream-coloured objects are all around. The whole place, the architecture and all the elements are clues that suggest only one cookie.

Pure Vanilla Cookie.

Curse that damned obnoxiously kind and naive cookie. Why is it always him? Why must he always get into my ways?

The exhaustion gnaws at me, but I force myself to stay conscious and alert, staring at nothing in particular. I hug my legs tighter with my weary arms. My limbs protest as they grow numb and static from staying still for quite some time.

The silence has dragged on. The ringing in my ears does not cease but grows.

A sudden, loud rattling comes from the doorknob, a sharp knife shattering the dense silence.

I stiffen. Subtle waves of anxious nausea hit me.

“Shadow Milk Cookie?” A muffled voice comes from beyond the door. The nauseating feeling intensifies slowly and torturously, as if unsure whether to be afraid or else.

The door handle resumes rattling persistently. I give no response, only still where I sit.

It stops abruptly after it receives no reply.

“I'm coming in,” the voice said. “Stay away from the door.”

I could do nothing to stop the current predicament. I cannot run or fight in my current state. I could only wait and watch it unfold.

There is a pause before the door bursts open, sending the chair propped against it flying, crashing on the floor deafeningly.

At the doorway stood none other than the Ancient Hero, infamous healer and abdicated ruler of the Pure Vanilla Kingdom himself.

Pure Vanilla Cookie stands in his usual golden-yellow vestment and white robes. But it is odd. His pointed hat is discarded and absent, so is his staff. His souljam, which is always worn by him on his vestment, is gone.

His mismatched pale yellow and blue eyes are open. They bore intently into mine. His breathing is calm. He does not look like he just broke down a door.

I glare at him, gritting my teeth hard, to keep myself aware.

His gaze lands on the bed, then travels to the pool of strawberry jam around my bleeding leg, then to the wreckage of a tea tray by the bed.

His focus returns to me. He stands there, looking at me. Then he steps forward, approaching.

“No!” I shift away urgently. The motion causes more thorny pain to travel through my leg. The strawberry jam traces the path of my displacement, leaving a distinctive streak of red. “Stay away from me.”

“Shadow Milk Cookie, you’re bleeding…” he stops, a few feet away from me. “Please, let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help!” I shouted instinctively, baring my teeth at him. But yet, Deceit, I, the master of the trade, am failing to implement it in myself as the sharp pain stubbornly digs itself deeper along as the sugar glass does.

“You’re losing a lot of jam.” He has that pathetic, pitying look on his face that tempts me to bite it off. He crouches down before me, reaching his hand out to me.

“Stay away!” I back away, hitting the corner. “Why can't you just leave me be?! You have better things to do than bother me!” Why can't he just leave me to die? Why must he try to save me all the time?

“Because I can't. I can't just leave you like this, Shadow Milk Cookie.” He says almost instantly. His eyes widen slightly, shocked as he didn’t catch himself before spilling it out. He presses his lips together when he realises.

He opens his mouth again to speak, but his words do not come out of his mouth. He hesitates. He frowns, his teeth nibbling slightly on his lips. Even as he attempts to hide something, he hesitates and shows evident guilt truthfully. How infuriating.

“There was a council held, when you were… asleep.” He says, finally, “We came to a deal. An arrangement was made.”

He is vague, but I understood what he meant.

Something of my captivity, presently, I'm sure.

I am currently left with no choice; Death is no longer a part of the selection.

He is offering me a choice.

“Please. I won't harm you. No one will. I promise.” He holds out his hand to me. “So please. Just give me a chance.”

I stare at those open hands.

Only one choice is left for me.

I let my arms drop beside me.

“May I?” He levels both his hands out, gesturing.

I shift an inch towards him. His eyes glimmer in victory, like he just saw a young cookie conjure up their first ounce of magic.

He scoops me into his arms with effortless ease as if I weigh nothing. He adjusts me into a reverse piggyback. Both my legs were dangling off limply, on both sides of his waist.

I am rigid. His warmth radiates softly off his dough. Unconsciously, I let my heavy head rest against his shoulders. It slightly helped with my still-hurting head.

I slump, closing my eyes.

His hand rests gently on the back of my neck.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, I have reached that stage of an fanfic author and cannot continue working on this work for quite some time.

For the past few months has been very busy for me I barely have any time for myself to work on this without 1, procrastinating; 2, being condemned to sins that I did not commit by the people in control of my life.

To be honest I am kinda running short on ideas for my creativity has been forcefully suffocated but I will work hard to continue this work.

Rest assured, a very high chance is i will come back to this i genuinely actually like this project thing.

Minimum i would be able to come back in a few months, worst case scenario, 2 years (will give notice if that happens).

More will be added to this if I have anything (I dont remember well as im writing this my memory is my arch nemesis)

Hope that we can meet again soon.

Peace,
- [Azurite] ☆