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Chapter 2 of this! (WC~5.4K)

The soft breeze blew against Pure Vanilla's face, the wind tousling his recently combed hair as he inhaled the nostalgic smell of the forest. Tree bark, damp grass and the rough carpet that lay down on the ground, woven by the decaying violet purple leaves of this year's abscission—they crunched below his feet with every step. It was a distinctly foresty combination reminiscent of his first time in Beast Yeast, an adventure he'll never forget. Not when it was the direct result to the blooming of a tight bond with his other half, who was accompanying him on this trip right now.

Oh, how time flies. From chasing down the Beast who wreaked havoc at the Faerie kingdom, to wandering around the outskirts of a beautiful village with him... Although he had not passed this specific region before, the entirety of Beast Yeast was like a condensed, amorphous section of long trees and strange bushes to him—he couldn't help the memories from flooding back and he took a deep breath.

When the two of them reached a point in the woods deep enough for the blueberry cookie's comfort, they perished into a dark, swirly puff of a cloud before reappearing as the form Pure Vanilla was most well acquainted with.

The abrupt disturbance caused the healer to blench for just the fraction of a second, before his eyes landed on his lover again, who seemed to be busy stretching his back. "Ah, I see you're Shadow Milk again," the blonde smiled, shortly standing still.

"Eh, we're so far from the village already. There's no reason not to be," he responded. "Why do you ask, did you prefer me as a woman?" He teased.

"I'd figured," the vanilla cookie continued walking, his trusty orchid staff stabbing the ground with every step as the jester duly floated behind him. "And to answer your question, no. I love whichever form you choose to take. You are still my other half, I will cherish and respect you no matter what."

"Ohoho, quite the romantic today, aren't you?" He couldn't help but smile at his honest sweetness. It wasn't rare or odd for him to say such words, but Shadow Milk enjoyed it regardless.

"Plus, walking is awful. I can not believe you all live like this." Shadow Milk fanned himself in disdain, finally being able to levitate again in this form. "A life of misery suited for ground dwellers such as you all."

Pure Vanilla chuckled. "It's all a part of a good adventure."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure," the other rolled his eyes. He couldn't help but glance over towards Pure Vanilla, anticipating another answer. Something stupidly sweet or optimistic, like the positive side effects of your feet coming in contact with the ground every so often or whatever. His expectations came clashing down when he realized his other half seemed to be too preoccupied with his surroundings to further entertain their ridiculous yet lighthearted back and forth quarrel.

He wasn't sure whether such advice from Pure Vanilla meant nothing at all or meant everything in the world. An anxious soul consistently looking out for others—a barista pouring you your drink out of an obviously empty flask. It was laughable, paradoxical, yet dare he say, oddly inspiring. Only to a certain level, though. He wasn't naive. He's seen enough to not be swayed by such things.

Truth and Deceit are intrinsically intertwined, after all. He had long accepted that, bitterly so. Even the bearer of the Light of Truth can hide under the guise of a little facade. A harmless, good faith act to guide his peers and followers more effectively was still a mere act at the end of the day—a white lie was still a lie no matter the reasoning—and Truth and Deceit remained so inherently weaved together that this was not so curious to him anymore.

Only a handful of people could see the Truth Pure Vanilla worked oh so diligently to hide about himself, and ironically, Shadow Milk seemed to see it with most clarity. He knew Pure Vanilla from up close—face to face, soul to soul. Not from a distance, not from a pedestal. The sleepless nights, the self neglect—how could such a cookie inspire others unless he hides these shameful realities?

He had been there before.

The only difference was that in his case, he had no one to look out for him and the entire universe tallying against him.

"Shadow Milk, did you hear that?"

"Huh? Hear what?" his string of thought was forcibly cut short by his other half's seemingly worried question. His pupils panned over towards him, only to be met with an equally nervous face.

"There's something behind the bushes."

"Wow, forest creature found in a forest bush," Shadow Milk clasped his hands together in pretended interest. "How exciting!"

"No, Shadow Milk, seriously," Pure Vanilla's urgent voice did not waver for a second. "It seems too large to be a normal animal."

"Ooh, are you scared?" He sneered, placing his hands on the healer's shoulders. "What if a massive licorice snake jumped onto you right now and devoured you whole? Oh, I think I'd be helpless to stop it~"

"Goodness, you jest too much," he rolled his eyes. Without another word, the healer reached out to nudge the bush with the tip of his staff. The bush shook again.

"Get away!" A shaky voice asserted from inside the bushes, and both the ancient cookies' eyes widened in shock as the exchanged curious glances.

"Ah?"

"I said get away!" Repeated the voice, this time hopping out of the bush with a small makeshift sword—seemingly made out of a bunch of branches. A small, frail cookie—with purple and white robes which seemed to have suffered some tearing from the unfriendly environment of the forest, wearing a round purple mushroom hat and some bruising on her face. Shadow Milk couldn't help but burst out in laughter at the pathetic display and her overestimated confidence.

"Aw, kid, what are you gonna do with that?" He snickered, snatching the pitiful excuse of a stick right out of her grasp and just out of her reach, earning a surprised yelp from her.

"Shadow Milk, now what was that for?" Pure Vanilla admonished, looking back down at the child. "Wait, isn't this the little girl from yesterday?"

Having seemingly recovered from his giggling fit, Shadow Milk gave the kid further inspection. "Hm, now that you point it out, it is the same kid."

"What are you doing back here, you wretched beast!" She yelled, her voice quivering yet brave. "Haven't you had enough?"

Pure Vanilla's brows furrowed as he looked back at Shadow Milk, who was too busy pretending he didn't hear any of it. Is this what he was talking about yesterday? About terrorizing the mushroom village a measly few months ago? Why he was insisting to don a disguise this whole time?

"Oh, young girl. Do not worry, he means no harm anymore," he spoke gently.

The blueberry cookie shook his head in secondhand embarrassment. He was petty—he always had been. Under normal circumstances, he would've loved to scare the little kid off. But perhaps Pure Vanilla can handle this one. Not that he cared enough to ruin it for him.

"What's a child like you doing in the depths of the woods anyway?" He kneeled down to face her, and she recoiled back.

"I— my pet puppy ran away into the woods this morning!" She cried out loud, holding tightly onto her robes.

"Ah, and you wanted to come here and save it yourself?" He tilted his head, voice ever so gentle.

"Yes, exactly! It's too dangerous out here for a little pup..." she hugged herself, as if cradling a small animal in between her arms.

Pure Vanilla's face warped in worry. "Don't you know that means it's also dangerous for little children?"

"I... well..."

"Hmm, how about this," his voice lit up with a proposal. "Me and Shadow Milk will look for your puppy, and you will return to your village?"

"What?!" Shadow Milk screeched. His little "break" that he oh so intricately organized with Pure Vanilla—getting compromised because of some dirty kid and her lost dog?

"But that cookie—he is an evil beast!" The purple cookie said, pointing an accusatory finger at the jester.

"Exactly, Pure Vanilla!" He floated around him in circles, the back of his hand pasted against his forehead. "How could an evil beast like me be of use here? I'll just cause more trouble... Who knows, maybe I'll end up eating the dog!~" He grinned.

"Eek!" The kid yelped, rushing to hide behind Pure Vanilla.

"Don't listen to him, he has a distasteful sense of humor," Pure Vanilla reassured her, staring assertively at Shadow Milk. "I know what he had done. Consider this his way of... showing penitence to your people and village."

That phrase wiped that dirty smirk right off Shadow Milk's face. He wanted to say something, but the child beat him to it.

"Really?" She stomped her feet excitedly, her disheveled purple robes and black hair moving in motion with her.

The two of them stare at Shadow Milk. The girl eager and hopeful, but with a pinch of doubt, and Pure Vanilla—his typical, neutral face. A gentle smile and his signature closed eyes—yet he could tell there was a right answer to be said here, and a very, very wrong one.

"Ugh," the jester dragged his voice, rolling his eyes so hard it was a miracle they stayed in his head. "Fine."

"Great! Then we'll return as soon as we find it!" The healer chirped almost immediately, ruffling her hair a bit.

"Okay! Yay!" Out of her pocket, she handed Pure Vanilla a worn picture, the lamination bitten and torn from the edges but the colors preserved and bright. It was a photo of her with a small, soft furred pink dog—a breed the animal loving healer could immediately recognize as a domesticated lokum pup. "Here is a picture! Please return it with you!" She clasped her hands together, and as soon as Pure Vanilla nodded, she skipped back the path the two walked to get here.

"As for you, Shadow Milk Cookie," Pure Vanilla spoke rigidly, standing back upright, and the Beast mentally prepared himself for some kind of scolding. Instead, the Ancient Hero pulled him closer and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for your kindness."

"MY kindness? I did not want to be a part of this," he retorted, a light blue blush crawling up his cheeks. Pure Vanilla thought it was adorable—how he tried to hide his fluster. "This was your idea."

"I know, but..." Pure Vanilla paused, articulating his words. "You agreed to it."

And could he refuse? It's not like he had the option back there. Not when Pure Vanilla looked at him like that. So serene, that face of his. It'd be shameful to admit that the Beast of Deceit has gotten weak to it over time. He only agreed to this for his sake.

"Even if you only agreed because of me, it is still appreciated."

And there he goes again, seeing right through him. It was only surprising the first few times it happened—and that was years ago. Now, it'd grown to be either endearing or mildly annoying, a spectrum depending on Shadow Milk's mood. In this case, it was the very extremity of the latter. "Can we just look for this damn dog and get out of here?"

"I thought you enjoyed being here," Pure Vanilla chuckled, covering his mouth. Getting Shadow Milk worked up was a challenge, but even the final boss has its weak points.

"Yeah, I changed my mind," he crossed his arms.

"Alright then, let's make it quick."

A generous amount of time had passed. The sun was slowly commencing its departure, sinking behind the hills and leaving the sky in the same dark purple blanket from the night before. The two had long found the puppy—it was identical to the one in the picture, and how many small, soft and pink domesticated lokum pups could there be here—deep in these treacherous woods?

There was only a minor issue—and that was actually catching it. For such a small creature, it was ridiculously agile and swift, with the reaction time of an eagle. When they came up close, it'd growl and run away. When they caught it, it'd wriggle and struggle its way from their tired hands and dunk behind some more bushes. It was an exhausting cycle.

"Oh, come on! Clearly it doesn't want to go back, just let it go!" Shadow Milk exhaled, growing bored and impatient. He had been here for hours. Chasing prey was fun but not when it was actively outsmarting you. Now that's just ungainly.

"We can not do that," Pure Vanilla panted, tired from the endless game of cat and mouse. "I promised that girl I'll bring it back for her, I can't back out now. It'll grow tired eventually, we just have to stay resolute."

"You pitiful, pitiful oaf," Shadow Milk shook his head, tightly pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look at you. You look like you've been run over by a herd of horses and yet you're still so stubborn."

"I suppose we are all stubborn in our own ways."

Behind them, the puppy woofed loudly, as if to grab their attention, and then continued running as soon as they looked over.

"Oh that's it," Shadow Milk snapped, raising his staff and following it. "That thing is taunting us. You never promised that girl to bring it back in one piece."

"Shadow Milk, wait!" Pure Vanilla followed.

They both froze in shock when the puppy disappeared into some kind of invisible fissure—no trace of it, only a very faint recoil from the portal after it went through, one that could easily be missed.

"Uh..." Shadow Milk slackened. "Well, we tried. Come on, let's go," he stated, unamused, dragging Pure Vanilla by the collar of his robes.

"No, we're not leaving yet," the healer smacked the other's hands off of him.

"What do you mean, 'We're not leaving yet'? That thing disintegrated in front of our eyes. What are you gonna do, collect its crumbs and reassemble them?"

"Obviously not, Shadow Milk," Pure Vanilla stated, his brows furrowed together. "It didn't disintegrate or crumble, it seems it went through some kind of... invisible portal."

"And? Take some of your own advice—this is Beast Yeast. That portal could either take you to the Garden of Delights or to the pits of hell—" Shadow Milk spoke. A reasonable argument, for once, but Pure Vanilla was not ready to waver when someone else was involved. "Has no one ever taught you not to jump into nameless portals?"

"I suppose you're right, but... it's worth a try," he said, deep in thought. "If anything bad happens, I trust you to pull us back out. Deal?"

Before arguing back, Shadow Milk seized the opportunity. "Aw, little old you, feeling safe in my presence?" He clasped his hands together, his voice shrill, imitating that of a child.

"Of course I do, Shadow Milk," he smiled at him. A warm smile, and a faint red spread on his cheeks. "Let's go," he enjoined, going in first, shortly followed by Shadow Milk.

As soon as they crossed the portal, they were transported into a completely foreign world—for Pure Vanilla at least. The grass was a bright shade of green, the sky a sickeningly sweet shade of pastel pink and full of rainbows, so many blooming in the heaven's garden. His eyes widened in awe as he silently thanked himself he had brought his staff with him today—he was considering leaving it in the cabin this morning for practicality.

The dry, perfectly cool air and the clear skies—the birds singing a lovely tune, it was a complete switch from the damp, dark woods outside.

"Ah, wow...." Pure Vanilla spoke, voice barely above a whisper in sheer shock. He had never seen a place like this before, and he never expected it'd be in Beast Yeast of all places.

Unlike Shadow Milk, who was left utterly unamused. The aesthetic scenery and the sweet smell of condensed sugar mattered not to him, it was simply another mirage among millions in this forest.

However, this one was unique. "I know you're enjoying the view and all, but we need to scatter out of here," he leaned over, one hand on his hip, the other busy simulating a walking movement.

"What—why?"

"Let's say... I don't exactly like the owner of this place. I only come here to mess with her, and I'm just not feeling it today, you know," he answered, stretching.

"You know the owner of this place?" Pure Vanilla inquired. Receiving no answer other than awkward silence, he added, "Fine. Let's grab the puppy and leave."

Luckily for them, the puppy had left an obvious track behind it in the soft grass. Following it, the two were shocked to see the once energetic puppy lying down, seemingly in a deep sleep, while being caressed and cradled by a bunch of colorful winged cookies.

Pure Vanilla approached the scene reluctantly and Shadow Milk pulled him back. "Wait."

He grabbed a small sugar pebble and tossed it near the angelic creatures, causing them to freak out, screeching and poofing into thin air, leaving a nauseatingly sweet pink cloud behind them. It was almost eerie.

The puppy, however, remained peacefully asleep, drooling in its dreams.

"There was probably a less disturbing way to do that, you know," Pure Vanilla sighed.

"I get the job done and you can't even be grateful!" He bantered. "Just get your stupid dog already and let's leave this place before she gets here."

"She?" Pure Vanilla asked, already making way towards the sleeping puppy. "Who's she?"

He lifted the puppy, holding it in his arms as he pet its soft fur. "Poor little thing... must be exhausted from all that running that it dropped asleep the second it came here."

"I don't think that's the reason it fell asleep so fast."

"What do you mean?"

"This place is... infamous for its particularly effective sleeping spells," he responded informally. "Those angel cookies? They weren't really angels, and they weren't really cookies, either—and they probably cast a spell on that evil little imp to get it to fall asleep so fast."

"I see... you seem to know a lot about that place, how often have you come here?" Pure Vanilla started walking towards him with the puppy in his arms, preparing to head back home.

"Eh, you could say I'm on good-ish bad-ish terms with the creator of this place," he stared at his own hand, examining his nails. "So quite often, I'd say. I have a Master's degree in all the ways you could get kicked out from here."

"Whatever that means," Pure Vanilla nodded.

As they started making their way towards the portal they came from, another winged cookie descended upon them, startling them before showering them in praises and pleasantries.

"Welcome to the Garden of Delights!" The cyan cookie chirped, their small wings fluttering. "Where joy is eternal, and sorrow is nonexistent!"

"I'm sorry, we'd love to stay but you see, we are in a bit of a hurry—" Pure Vanilla awkwardly interrupted, trying to walk past.

"Oh, no no no, that doesn't matter here," they affirmed. "Here, you are ready to let go of your earthly desires and worries—by the decree of Eternal Sugar Cookie herself!"

"Eternal Sugar Cookie? Wait, isn't that Hollyberry's beastly counterpart?" Pure Vanilla asked. "She speaks of her a lot..."

"Ah, Hollyberry? Who?" Shadow Milk answered, feigning ignorance. It was tough for Pure Vanilla to believe though, given Hollyberry was the one amongst his friends Shadow Milk tolerated the most—it was even tougher for the winged cookie to believe, knowing Pure Vanilla mentioned her first. Truly, even the master of lies can go short of ideas sometimes.

"You two are acquainted with Miss Hollyberry? That's spectacular!" They sung. "Well, it is only right to bring you to Eternal Sugar Cookie herself, in that case!~" The teal cookie grabbed a handful of pastel powder from their wicker basket and slung it on Pure Vanilla's face. "Sweet dreams, my friend!~"

"Ah, wait!" The blonde healer protested, but as soon as the dust came in contact with his face, he sneezed, falling to the floor with a loud thud, the puppy lying on top of him.

"Pure Vanilla!" The jester shrieked, before turning back to the giddy angel. "Why, you—"

As he raised his blueberry staff to attack, another wave of sugary powder hit his face. "Argh!—" he exclaimed, before his muscles relaxed, dropping to the floor next to the other cookie.

"Sorry, love, it's protocol!~" The cookie cooed, the last words Shadow Milk heard before drifting into unconsciousness.

"Aw, cute little lovebirds, sleeping next to each other so soundly like baby bunnies! How adorable!" They squealed, unable to contain their excitement. "Eternal Sugar Cookie will be happy to see this!~ Everyone! Come help me pick them up!"

A bunch of similarly dressed cookies surrounded their sleeping forms—a dozen or so. The cookies in this garden were frail and small, it took a lot of them to carry two adult cookies. Together, they carried them over, away from the portal and towards the center of the garden.

It felt like ages. Pure Vanilla couldn't move, or talk for that matter. Not even to the Light of Truth. In fact, he could barely even think. It felt like he was being swallowed by an unknown force, floating and wilting away into nothingness. It wasn't too much unlike the mirage of his Soul Jam.

Until it began growing brighter, and brighter. So bright it became blinding, so blinding he could only keep his eyes shut. It was a twisted act of irony that for some reason, he could see just fine here. He tried to cover his eyes with his sleeves but the light kept growing stronger, a nauseatingly sweet scent filling his lungs. It got to a point where it was too overwhelming to resist or fight back, and all he could do was lie down helplessly. But there was a bliss to this helplessness, as it rid him of all his responsibilities. A part of him felt guilty for thinking this way, but he sort of liked that.

Until the mirage collapsed in on itself and he was sent back to the real world.

"...Ugh..."

Pure Vanilla's eyesight was hazy—as it always was, but right now, it was significantly worse, as if he couldn't open his eyes at all. He twisted and turned in his sleep, landing on his stomach.

"Shadow Milk?"

"What...?" The other cookie responded groggily, moving away.

"What happened?"

The light from above was dim, as if it was nighttime in this realm already. That's when the memories came flooding back and Pure Vanilla jolted awake. "Shadow Milk! Wake up!" He shook the other, who groaned in mild annoyance.

"What? What on Earthbread do you want? Can't you see I'm sleeping?"

"We need to get out of here, we got kidnapped—" he panicked, still trying to shake the other awake.

"Eh, I told you so, we should've—" he paused to yawn. "We should've left earlier."

Pure Vanilla froze, observing the other. He slept so calmly for such a chaotic spirit—his chest rising and falling with every breath. It was quiet everywhere, only disturbed by the faint sound of the winds. The massive flowerbeds below them were surprisingly soft, as if they were made to be slept on. How easy it would've been for the breeze to lull him back to sleep, right here, right now.

Instead, driven by pure impulse, Pure Vanilla urgently grabbed Shadow Milk's shoulders and pulled him into a passionate, abrupt kiss. It was an action with a mind of its own, as if he were merely an observer to his body's desires with no say as to what it does.

Shadow Milk's eyes flew wide open in that moment. One second he was half-asleep, the other he was tongue deep into a fervent kiss with his other half—yet he couldn't get himself to pull away. Anything he would've wanted to say—objection, scolding, complaint—was muffled between their loving kiss. The eyes in his hair melted as he found himself chasing for more.

"Mm..." the healer's face scrunched at the sheer intensity, his cheeks flushed and his tongue busy inside the other's mouth. It wasn't too different from the first time they'd done this—reckless and almost instinctive—they both could feel the heat pooling in their bodies as they pressed against each other, as if they were being controlled by something—

"My, my," a sultry voice echoed from behind them, and Pure Vanilla immediately pulled away, his eyes wet with need. "And to think this was the work of only a small dosage of my sugar powder. Now I'm curious what would have happened if I added some more~"

"Ah, pardon me," Pure Vanilla almost stuttered, trying to hide his face in embarrassment now that he was fully awake. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to speak. "I... I don't know what had gotten into me."

"What was THAT." Shadow Milk, still not recovered from the shock to his system, was not ready to switch topics so quick.

"Please, don't be too harsh on him. It's normal to wake up here feeling extra lovely," the pink cookie cooed, and Shadow Milk finally looked at her.

"You. What do YOU want?" He groaned, pointing a finger at her as he stood up.

"Oh, how disgraceful," her wings hugged her figure. "You show up to my garden uninvited—I go through the hassle of welcoming you, and this is your response?" Before Shadow Milk could answer, she continued. "And who's this little sweetheart you have with you here?"

Shadow Milk could feel his blood boil from that final statement alone.

"Oh, me?" The healer clutched his staff, smiling. "My name is Pure Vanilla."

"Pure Vanilla, hm? Hollyberry had told me a lot about you..." she descended closer—low enough so that the two could feel the air against their faces from each flap of her smooth white wings.

"Really?"

"Mhm, indeed, she has," the Soul Jam on her forehead flickered at the thought of her lover. "Now that I think about it, it's been a while since she last came by..." she added solemnly, hugging her lyre.

"Ah, I see... it's true, the Hollyberry kingdom often gets quite busy during this time of year," Pure Vanilla said. He knew Hollyberry often visited Beast Yeast whenever she had the time, and he knew she'd do it to spend time with Eternal Sugar Cookie. He had just never seen this cookie in person—and most of the descriptions he had of her in his mind were vague amalgamations based off what Hollyberry would tell him. "I'm sure she'll visit you when she's done."

"What a very pleasant thing to say," she smiled. "Shadow Milk, take notes."

"Oh, please," he crossed his arms. "Pure Vanilla, let's get out of here."

"Oh, No-oh, not yet," she ordered, a bunch of crawling vines wrapping themselves around the two cookies' ankles. "I have a request for you, Pure Vanilla."

Pure Vanilla almost lost balance at the sudden motion, but managed to stab his staff into the floor just in time. "Ah, what is it?"

"Give this to my other half the next time you see her," she ordered softly, placing a carefully decorated small box into his palm. "Don't open it, though, mhm?"

Pure Vanilla nodded. "Of course."

"Very great then..." the vines went limp, and the cookies were free again. "Also, is this yours?" Right in front of them, she summoned the puppy from before.

"Oh goodness, I almost forgot!" Pure Vanilla covered his mouth, sprinting to hold the puppy. It was still asleep, unbothered, and most importantly, alive. "Thank you, Eternal Sugar Cookie."

"Oh, don't mention it!" She passed a finger against the chords of her lyre. "You're so polite, it's hard to believe you share a Soul Jam with... that unpleasant clown."

"Wow, well," Shadow Milk sprung towards Pure Vanilla, holding his shoulders tightly. "I'm sure it was wonderful to have us here, but we must go now," he exasperated, the sarcasm evident in his voice. "So, goodbye! See you later! Not!"

After that, the two of them instantly returned to the woods. Pure Vanilla's mind was a bit hazy, but he could manage. The sun was already long gone by now, replaced by a beautiful crescent moon and an array of twinkling stars. The village wasn't too far from here and if they decided to make haste, they could probably make it before dawn. Shadow Milk shapeshifted into Blueberry Farmer Cookie once again—a bit early this time but, just in case.

As soon as the two were within the visible radius of the village, the girl came running towards them—a wide cheek to cheek smile plastered on her face. Behind her stood her mother and what seemed to be some other relatives and villagers, ready to praise the two for their rescue.

"Thank you two so much," the mother said, watching her daughter happily reunite with her puppy. "I don't know how we would've gotten her back without you."

"Ah, don't mention it. We were merely on a trip and decided to help out, that's all," Pure Vanilla said, shaking her offering hand as Blueberry Farmer Cookie stood behind them in a distance, not interested in engaging with the whole reunion scene. She was never the kind to enjoy such events. "And here you go," he added, giving her the laminated picture back, earning a trusting smile from her.

After the warm welcome was over, the two were dying to return home. The sun had already risen again, but Pure Vanilla could use some good sleep right now, and he will, no matter what time of day it was.

As soon as Blueberry Farmer Cookie unlocked the main door with her keys, Pure Vanilla's first destination was the bed. He plopped himself in there, making extra sure the blankets covered him head to toe. It wasn't until Blueberry Farmer Cookie decided to shut the blinds to the bedroom window and join in that he spoke.

"Oh—what?"

"Can it, I need to rest, too," she rebuted. "Don't make it weird, and it won't be."

Pure Vanilla turned around so that they were facing each other. He couldn't really see her with his staff set down near the bed, bur he could feel her breath against his face and the radiating warmth off her skin as she got herself comfortable. "Oh, Shadow Milk, you're more than welcome to join me anytime," he said, wrapping his arms around her.

"Oh, you cheesy little fool, it's Blueberry Farmer Cookie," she corrected him. "By the Witches' sake, how many times shall I correct you?!" she argued, trying to distract herself from the warmth of their shared embrace. She was never the best and handling such proximity.

"And why are you so insistent about it? You were the one which blew your own cover today—" he lightheartedly quarreled, drowsiness already taking over.

"Hm..." she paused shortly. "I kind of like that name."

"I see." He sunk into the sheets. "Very well then, Blueberry. Good night."

"It's seven in the morning."

"You knew what I meant."

"...Good night to you too, then."

As the two drifted into sleep, Pure Vanilla couldn't help but wonder about that short "dream" he had in the Garden of Delights. He could probably ask Blueberry about it when she woke up, but wad it truly just a dream? It felt too real, and too personal to be a dream. His dreams were usually just haphazard fusions, horrible beyond his comprehension. This one was... almost pleasant. It could be the effects of Eternal Sugar's Soul Jam on the Garden, maybe.

Not that it mattered now.

With one final exhale, he fell asleep in the embrace of his lover. He was truly grateful to have her.

Just finished chapter 1 of my new fic~ (WC 5.8K) https://archiveofourown.org/works/66615115

Pair: Shadow Milk cookie/Pure Vanilla cookie

All can be found in the picture:

If it's not loading for you, here are the warnings.

TW for suicidal thoughts/attempts, actual suicide, temporary character death, depression, burnout, and eating disorders.

Over here, it was quiet.

Quiet for as long as he'd like it to be.

Quiet enough for him to hear his own breathing, calm, steady and undisturbed. The slow-paced but rhythmic heartbeat that pounded in his chest and pumped the precious life through his dough as his lidded eyes filled up with silent tears. He didn't try to fight them back.

"I see you're back here again."

No response. Silvery beads trickled smoothly down his delicate cheeks, each tear a condensed drop of the deluge of his anguish and guilt—yet his expression remained serene, indifferent. Not swaying for a second, his facial muscles as relaxed as those of a sleeping newborn.

"Was it intentional this time, too?"

The Light of Truth spoke in words that cut like daggers—not to taunt, not to pour salt onto the wound, but rather to reach out, to guide him through.

Yet, again, no response. Its attempt tripped and plummeted onto the ever-growing pile of unanswered questions Pure Vanilla couldn't get himself to address—not right now, not yet.

He was actively letting everybody down.

His kingdom. His guards. His subjects. His friends. His role.

He had been avoiding everything, leaving a series of worried faces and broken promises in his wake.

None of them should know, he made sure of it.

A comforting darkness blanketed him like a sick, tired child as he embraced this state of nothingness. He could sleep here for days. Sleep indefinitely, until he couldn't sleep anymore. Get carried by the leisurely tides of this mirage, cradled into unconsciousness in the familiar arms of this merciful oblivion.

Until he wakes up back his room, tucked in bed carefully by the only person who knows about this secret habit of his. Only he could know. They were cosmically intertwined after all, it was almost ridiculous how well they could understand each other. There was no point in trying to hide anything from him—not when their souls were connected by the decree of their creators, not when they could read each other like an open book. It would be foolish.

He should be thankful he never brought it up.

He layed still as he drifted into an extended slumber, waiting for his body to heal the damage he had done prior to arriving here and return to its living state. It wasn't his fault. Everyone needs a little rest sometimes, no? It ached him to know his lover would find him like this soon, but as long as neither of them spoke of it, it was no big deal.

Shadow Milk has snuck around the Vanilla Castle so many times already, its layout was practically imprinted in his brain. The overwhelming, golden beams of light that burned through the whole place didn't seem to bother him as much anymore, nor does he shortly stop to ponder and criticize the shortcomings of his other half when it came to his tasteless decorative preferences. The long corridors seemed to get shorter with every visit, the engulfing sweet vanilla scent growing familiar over time. It was endearing, almost, how unmistakably "Pure Vanilla" this place was. It was even more endearing how that was the only reason he had slowly warmed up to it.

One final turn and the jester was already in front of the king's bedroom. He flung the door to his beloved's room open with the excitement of a giddy schoolgirl as a welcoming whiff of vanilla permeated his lungs, his anticipating eyes scanning the room for him.

When his gaze landed upon the Soul Jam of truth, laying pale, bare and uncased on the undone bed, its owner nowhere to be seen, his words caught up in his throat, his smile fading. Pure Vanilla had done it again.

Near the bed layed an almost empty flask of a thick, purple liquid—one he could unmistakably identity as some type of poison, with small seemingly days old splatters staining the carpet in front. Shadow Milk closed the door behind him.

Many crumpled pieces of papers scattered away, forgotten and torn in the corner of the room—those were probably drafts of the final letter Pure Vanilla sent the guards to notify them he would be gone for a while.

As he always did.

Never did Pure Vanilla do this without taking the extensive and tedious measures to ensure that no one would find out. Shadow Milk knew him too well—always selfless, putting others first, even at his lowest. If any of his friends were to find out, they'd likely drown in worry and dismay, and that was his biggest fear.

Shadow Milk caressed the Soul Jam's hard surface carefully, picking it up into his palms. It flickered weakly, its usual bright shine when Pure Vanilla wore it on his chest diminished into a lifeless, dull metallic blue.

"Ugh. You and your self destructive tendencies," he groaned. His voice was dry and monotonous, devoid of its usual sing-songy pride, as if the sight had knocked the air out of his lungs. There was no getting used to this.

He bought it near his own, watching in awe as they harmoniously synergized together, recognizing each other almost immediately in an angelic choir of euphonious frequencies. Subtle vibrations and a gentle light of their shared blue against his concerned face, Shadow Milk wondered if Pure Vanilla could feel it in there too.

Probably not. He was in deep sleep.

He was in deep sleep most of the times these days. More often than not, Shadow Milk's visits would be cut short by the same predicament—and it felt like a stab to the guts every single time.

Shadow Milk recalled the last time he was invited over for some tea. Pure Vanilla wore that same relaxed face he always has on—eyes closed, smile faint, voice soft. Yet under that meek guise lived a troubled soul—one Shadow Milk could easily place a finger on, yet never brought up.

Not that he knew how to articulate his feelings into words, anyway. Knowledge falls short when application is stiff. Shadow Milk had long forgotten how to give out genuine reassurance, and Pure Vanilla never learned how to receive it. Simple.

"Hmph."

He clumsily plopped himself onto the ruined sheets, letting gravity do the work for him before he landed on his back. Soul Jam of Truth in his palms, he wondered.

"How come when I do something like this, you rush to scold me," he exhaled, voice barely above a whisper. There could be guards outside. "But when you do it, I'm supposed to be okay with it?"

He rested the sombre gemstone on the nightstand and glanced towards the flask. The contents suggested this was a mixture brewed from some kind of poisonous berry. It held a thick viscosity and a distinct rancid smell. Had it gone bad or does it just smell like that? He crushed the thing to bits with his palm, glass penetrating his dough. The remaining liquid dripped slowly onto the bed, mixed with a trace of his own blood. Not that it mattered.

He floated upwards, head only a few inches below the ceiling. With a flick of his trusty blueberry staff, Pure Vanilla's room was back to brand new. The torn papers perished, the once stained carpet was spotless, and the formerly disheveled beige sheets were done and clean. Perfect. His hand can bleed on, it'll stop eventually.

Once he was done with that, his eyes landed on the Soul Jam again. Still, motionless.

"Oh, Pure Vanilla Cookie, you mewling old fool."

Shadow Milk floated towards the balcony and leaned against the luxurious vanilla balustrades that lined the whole thing, chin resting on the back of his good hand. He glanced downwards as the wind ruffled and toyed with his hair and cape. Pure Vanilla's room was pretty high up. He couldn't supress the smile creeping up his face when he recalled the memory of that one time he dropped him off the balcony just to teleport to the ground and catch him in his arms, bridal style, right before he landed. Must've been quite the long fall, now that he properly thinks about it. No wonder Pure Vanilla was so panic-stricken and distraught when he fell into his arms.

A fair prank, don't judge him. He saw the opportunity, and took it. And he'd probably do it again.

There was no point in that right now, though. Dropping Pure Vanilla's unconscious husk of a Soul Jam off the highest floor and rushing down to catch it wouldn't be unlike playing fetch with his own self—a waste of time, energy, and Pure Vanilla wouldn't even feel it, so it was ultimately worthless. Not fun, he didn't feel like it.

He almost burst into laughter again when he remembered that other time he replaced the sugar with salt on their tray when they were dining out here. When the blonde wanted to sweeten his tea by adding some sugar, it was only a few seconds later that he spat the drink out all over the table, followed by immediate apologies for his poor table etiquette. It was true comedy to Shadow Milk, to put Pure Vanilla in such situations.

Many memories were born on this balcony, undoubtedly. It was where they first reunited after Shadow Milk resentfully showed up to the Vanilla kingdom after his "retreat". It was where Pure Vanilla welcomed him with open arms, despite his friends' initial rejection towards his beastly counterpart. Against all odds, they somehow worked.

They've eaten together, kept and raised plants, chatted all night over here. They've argued, then made up, then argued some more, then made up again.

All on this balcony.

Outside the king's bedroom, a few footsteps came from behind the other side of the door, and Shadow Milk's ears twitched, snapping him out of his daydream world. A few knocks, and he knew he had to move. Urgently, he rushed back in, grabbing the Soul Jam of Truth off the nightstand, before swiftly whooshing away to hide under the balcony's soffit, the gemstone held tightly against his chest, only mere seconds before the cookie started speaking.

"I'm telling you! This room is locked," a high pitched muffled voice exclaimed from the hallway. Wait— the door was locked? No wonder Shadow Milk had to put in some extra effort this time to slam it open. He must've broken the lock, in that case. "I know the king is away for now, but how am I supposed to clean the room up?"

An undecipherable murmur of acknowledgment from another cookie followed her complaints as she yapped on. It seems this cookie was the maid tasked with tidying the king's bedroom while he was away. Shadow Milk knew Pure Vanilla, he knew he'd rather his subjects not be limited to such tasks. But judging by the million portraits, sculptures, and artworks that were made in his image and adorn every nook and cranny of the castle—not to mention the massive stained glass windows, they were likely doing this out of their own free will and passion.

Up there, the guard placed a hand on the knob and twisted it, and the door smoothly creaked ajar. "It... doesn't seem to be locked."

"What!" Under the soffit, Shadow Milk giggled. He just had to wreak mischief, he couldn't help it. It was in his nature at this point. Even involuntarily, it follows him around. "I-I've been trying to get in here for four days, I swear!"

Four days, hm? So that's when Pure Vanilla did it. If four days have passed, it is likely he'll return in day or three.

The cookies' rambling was soon drowned out by his thoughts. It was funny for a few seconds, but it grew old quite quickly. He had to take Pure Vanilla somewhere. He needed... supervision, for the lack of a better word. Actually, scratch that. That was precisely the perfect word. He did need supervision, whether he liked it or not. Or what, he'll go drift away endlessly in the mirage of his Soul Jam, until he is but a shell of his true self? A pitiful existence—Shadow Milk won't let him have it.

In fact, he knew precisely where to take him.

"Wait, something isn't right," the maid cookie stated, interrupting his thoughts—again, and earning an alert 'hm?' from the guard. "I think someone has been here. Look there, the lock is broken, isn't it?"

Shadow Milk smiled. Quite the vigilant cookies you have in your kingdom, Pure Vanilla, eh? Well, either way. It was time to go now. He summoned a thin swirly passage and swooshed through it. Come catch him, if you will.

A day had passed. Then another, and then another. Shadow Milk had grown bored and impatient from waiting—it was like watching paint dry on a wall, yet he couldn't leave Pure Vanilla alone for too long. Not when he was trapped in a deep slumber, not in a land entirely foreign to him.

The air over here was cold, imbued with a distinct earthy mushroom smell. The sky was a permanent shade of orchid purple, blanketed by a thick layer of teal clouds. It's such a stark contrast to the Vanilla Kingdom's cool weather and clear skies that it might startle Pure Vanilla after such a long sleep. Plus, who knows, he might end up developing some allergy to the spores here. They're everywhere, anyway.

Not that he hadn't been to here before, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Although, Pure Vanilla with an allergy would be quite entertaining to watch. The blueberry cookie fidgeted with his hands, rolling his eyes.

Out of nowhere, the Soul Jam started to flicker intensely, immediately earning his attention, and Shadow Milk looked up. The light got brighter and brighter till it engulfed the whole cottage, and the gemstone started humming loudly. After one more blinding beam, lay Pure Vanilla's sleeping, dormant form, tucked under the thick blankets Shadow Milk enveloped around him.

Hopefully that didn't alert the rest of the village.

He quickly approached him, poking his cheek with his finger. He didn't seem to be awake yet. He usually took some extra time off after returning.

"Just how long do you plan on making me wait, you mammet?" Shadow Milk groaned under his breath, his hair growing into a mess. "Unbelievable."

He ran a finger up his face, touch so faint he barely felt it. He'd stalked Pure Vanilla in his sleep more often than he'd like to admit, yet he still looked as peaceful as he did the first day. His cheeks were as plump and soft as a comfortable pillow, even if his figure was on the thinner side.

And then it hit him.

Pure Vanilla must be starving when he wakes up. He didn't exactly have the greatest eating habits. Sometimes he'd get headaches from the hunger, and even then, he wouldn't eat unless Shadow Milk practically forced him to. He had his own ways. How could he have it in him to refuse the dishes Shadow Milk oh so graciously cooked for him? If guilt-tripping is the only way he could get Pure Vanilla to eat, then so be it.

Some mushroom stew could do. Mushrooms were abundant around here, the entire village was made of them. It'd be easy on his stomach, too.

He got up and headed towards the door. With a tiny squeak, it creaked open and he went out to get some ingredients, shutting it behind him lest the cold air fill the cottage and make Pure Vanilla sick. He could probably buy what he needed from the cookies living here instead of picking his own—he doesn't really like doing too much work.

The frigid air surrounded him like a prickly smog, and he only found himself delving deeper into the soft warm of the sheets, twisting and turning until they reached his nose. His heavy eyelids fluttered sheepishly as he forced them open, trying to reach for his staff. He could not see without it.

He took a deep breath, inhaling a mysterious foresty smell but also the unmistakable scent of blueberries—Shadow Milk had been here. Oddly enough, his surroundings seemed to lack that common vanilla odor he'd often wake up to in his room. Strange.

Not to mention, the sheets felt quite different. They were fuzzy and soft quilts, unlike the foamy duvet blankets at the kingdom.

After he cautiously clutched his staff, his misty, mismatched eyes widened in disbelief as his system was forcibly thrust into alert mode—this wasn't his room. He wasn't in any of his friends' kingdoms either, he could tell from the architecture and the menacing purple sky that loomed outside the window.

Panicked, he shoved himself out of bed. His body must have not woken up yet, his legs helplessly shaking as he stumbled onto the hard wooden floor.

Using his staff as leverage, he managed to stand up again, this time slightly more stable. His limbs felt heavy, like his dough was made of cement.

"Shadow Milk?"

He trudged around the little cottage, dragging his feet against the hard floor as he looked for signs of his lover. He knew he was near, that blueberry scent from before was unquestionably his. "Are you here?"

Radio silence. Seems nobody was home.

Why is he here anyway? Did Shadow Milk bring him here? Was this another one of his elaborate pranks? Or perhaps, he could still be dreaming. This place did look straight out of a children's fantasy book, after all.

No, that couldn't be. The pain from that fall felt too real. In fact, his knees still ached a little.

He stared at his hands, and then at his Soul Jam, which glowed dimly in response. Yes. This was definitely real.

Pure Vanilla reluctantly walked towards the door, and when he twisted the door handle, a gentle, a cold breeze of petrichor swept through the interior, his robes waving in the process. The door opened slowly, and he slid through the thin frame.

The grass under him was surprisingly mushy—it seems this area has generous amounts of rainfall around this part of the year. Near the cottage was a unique array of damp vegetation—the plants seemed a little familiar, but he couldn't remember exactly where he'd seen them. And a lot common mushrooms too, literring the cyan grass beneath them. Stepping back, he realized the hut itself was shaped like a giant mushroom, with little holes for a door and some windows.

In fact, many such cottages spread across the whole village, warm light radiating from the windows—there were other cookies here. That much was confirmed to him when he overheard a cookie yelp in pain, before devolving into a series of profanity. Pure Vanilla covered his mouth as he attempted to identify the source, slowly walking towards the commotion.

It wasn't too long before he realized the village's blacksmith had injured himself while working. A bunch of other cookies entered the scene, and they all seemed to have one thing in common—they all wore large mushroom hats on their heads, everyone with a different color, shape and specimen. Pure Vanilla hid behind one of the taller mushroom stipes and observed, his vision blurry from all the way over here.

The blacksmith in particular had a amber colored flat mushroom hat on his head. His attire consisted of a work uniform and some protective glasses, and his hand seemed to be bleeding. That must've been where he hurt himself.

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" spoke a random cookie in the crowd. "Our medic just departed for some herbs."

"It's fine," the blacksmith replied in a strong accent, grabbing the bloodied hammer with his good hand to clean it up. "It's nothing time can't heal."

Pure Vanilla was still disconcerted. He had been out for days, and when he woke up, he found himself in this foreign fantasy land he had never been to before, filled with mysterious yet innovative architecture, and plants that gave him a strong feeling of deja vu.

"Wait!" Pure Vanilla called, emerging from behind the stem and walking towards the crowd, the entirety of it, including the injured blacksmith himself, turning to face him almost immediately. "May I take a look at that?"

"Hm? Sure," the bleeding man responded, giving his hand out. "You think you can do something about it?"

"I'm sure I can." Pure Vanilla cupped his hand between his two palms and recited a brief spell in whispers, a faint light emerging from the small cracks between his fingers before he pulled away. The blacksmith's hand was completely healed, leaving behind only a tiny scar. The crowd gasped at the sight, and Pure Vanilla couldn't help but smile at their endearing reaction.

"What—" the now healed man jerked his hand back, examining it closely from different angles. "How did you do that?"

"Ah, healing is my speciality," he uttered softly, eyes closed.

"Are you a medic of some kind?" A cookie in the crowd inquired.

"I suppose you could say so."

"He's way better than *our* medic," another complained.

"I'm sure they're great at their job, too," he deflected. "You all look very healthy."

"What's your name, anyway?" The blacksmith asked, tilting his head. "I don't think I've seen you before. You don't look like you're from here."

"Oh, my name is Pure Vanilla Cookie," he smiled. "And you are correct, I am not from here."

"You must be the other foreigner that blueberry cookie talked about," he responded. "Name's Anamite Cookie, by the way."

"What a lovely name, but," he couldn't help but wonder. "Did you say blueberry cookie?"

"Yes, her name was Blueberry Farmer Cookie, if I remember correctly." Anamite Cookie put his hammer down and looked into his shop. "She passed by around an hour minutes ago and bought a pan and some other kitchenware. She mentioned bringing someone with her, too, before running off to our greengrocer. I wonder, was it you she was talking about?"

"Ah, it appears that must've been another blueberry cookie," Pure Vanilla chuckled, not recognizing the name. "The one I'm looking for is a male, and his name is—"

"There! There he is!" A young cookie skipped towards Pure Vanilla and tugged at his robes. She was a pale-dough cookie with a round, purple mushroom hat. "I found him!"

Behind her, her similarly dressed mother rushed to scold her. Another cookie followed her from a distance, carrying a bunch of plastic bags. She looked awfully familiar. "Do you not have any manners?" She grabbed her daughter's arm and pulled her towards her. "Sir, I am so sorry."

"Oh, it's—"

"Thank you two!" The final cookie caught up shortly after, pulling a generous sum of coins out of her handbag and giving it to the mother, who showered her in grateful pleasantries in return before departing with her small one.

It didn't take Pure Vanilla anything more than one close-up look to immediately know who she was. Despite the long, white hair and the frilly indigo dress, her heterochromatic eyes and devious smile disclosed her to him.

"Ah, speak of the devil!" The blacksmith laughed heartily. "We were just talking about you."

"Good things, I hope?" She giggled back, aggressively interlocking her arm with Pure Vanilla's, earning a quiet flinch from him.

"Of course, I would only speak good things of a customer."

"Splendid. Well, if you'll excuse us~"

"Of course."

The white haired cookie dragged the stunned Pure Vanilla away from the blacksmith's store and out of the crowd, back towards the cottage he had initially woken up at. Not until they were out of sight did the vanilla cookie speak.

"Shadow Milk?" He whispered, voice unsteady with hesitation. "Is... Is that you?"

"Who else would it be, silly?" The woman answered, poisonous sarcasm in her speech. "Don't ask stupid questions. Just can it and follow me."

Pure Vanilla nodded, letting her guide him back to the cottage. She opened the door swiftly and they entered together before she dropped all the bags she was carrying onto the table near the entrance.

"You should call me Blueberry Farmer Cookie around the villagers, by the way," she fixed her dress. "That's the name I gave them."

"Why are you..."

"Why am I what? A woman?" She teased. "Well, I've... terrorized this particular village in the distant past. It's a pretty long story, really. Anywho, that was months ago. Can't have them recognize me, no?"

"Months? Months is not—" Pure Vanilla crossed his arms. "Months is not that long ago!"

"Oh please, just shut up and go sit down somewhere, you dramatic little thing," she rolled her eyes, storming off into another room. "I'll be busy in the kitchen, don't interrupt me."

Pure Vanilla followed her. "Ah, so that's what all those groceries are for."

"Sherlock Holmes over here," she murmured, pouring water into a pot. "Why'd you sneak off, anyway?"

"Wait, let me help you," Pure Vanilla cut in, carrying some of the plastic bags into the kitchen.

"Oh, no no no, you will not, you staledough. Look at you, all frail and tired," she quickly interrupted, shoving him back with a wooden spoon. "And don't you ignore my question! Do you know how unsettling it was to come back home and see you gone?"

Pure Vanilla stayed silent.

"One minute you show no signs of waking up soon, the other you're running off and blending into random crowds. I had to pay money to get people to search for you, you know."

"Shadow Milk..." he sat down on a wooden chair.

"It's Blueberry Farmer Cookie. Don't mess it up. You'll blow my cover."

"Blueberry, I... I couldn't stay here, I had no idea where I was."

The blue cookie's eyes narrowed at the little nickname, but she didn't stop slicing the mushrooms for a second. "Whatever, whatever," she answered, dragging the vowels. "Just go back to sleep or something. Look at you."

Pure Vanilla didn't resist. She was probably right—he was in no condition to be running around like this. Whenever he woke up from one of those slumbers, he'd be incredibly exhausted for a day or two before returning to normal. This time wasn't any different, other than the fact that he felt like he had to act urgently.

Not to mention, a good nap would be great right now. The cold climate of the village left him craving the warm embrace of a comforting bed, and it was getting late anyway. There was no denying that when the sky was transitioning from a dark purple to an even darker one, blanketing the village in a cozy atmosphere.

"...Fine, I will," he exhaled, plodding back to the room he woke up at.

Blueberry Farmer Cookie sighed, getting back to work. She tossed the free recipe that came with her purchase away into the trash bin—no need for instructions when you know it already.

A gentle breeze seeped through the window, quietly waking the blonde cookie up from his dreams. It had been a while since he had felt the welcoming wind on his skin. The Soul Jam's mirage was dark and devoid of any wind at all times—and when he woke up last night, it was already sunset, and the air was crispy cold. He hadn't gotten to feel this soothing touch in a while—especially not the misty one of this forest place, wherever it was.

That reminded him—he hadn't asked his other half why they were here yet, or what this place even is anyway.

He got out of bed, limbs feeling a little less tense than last night. Grasping his staff, he headed to look for her. Which didn't take too long, as she was still in the kitchen, sitting down in front of the table, seemingly reading something.

"Well, look who's awake," she cooed, standing up and dropping the magazine she was reading.

"Good morning, blueberry," he responded. "What are you reading?"

"Ugh, nothing," she groaned. "Say, do you smell something?"

"Smell what?"

"Oh, you know~ something delicious?" She bragged, smiling.

"Now that I think about it, yes I do."

"Soooo?"

Pure Vanilla's face stiffened. He hadn't eaten anything since he woke up in this place—not to mention that he was out for a few days before. Still, that didn't change the fact that he didn't feel like eating right now. His head hurt and his hands were shaky, but he couldn't get himself to think about food at all. "I'm sorry, I don't think I—"

"No, no no, nonononono, none of that! I know what you're about to say. SHUSH!" The white haired cookie caterwauled, an accusatory finger pointing at him. "I did NOT spend forty five minutes on that last night just for you to say you're not hungry. Go get yourself a bowl and sit down."

"Ah..."

Now that Pure Vanilla thought about it—it's true. She did go through the extra trouble to make these, just for him. And judging by the thin steam that hung above the bowls, she probably reheated them just this morning, too. "Okay..."

"Hehe, fabulous," she chirped. "And get yourself a spoon while you're at it~"

Pure Vanilla sighed before sitting down on the opposite side of the table, facing her. He placed his bowl before him, letting the stew cool. "Blueberry..."

"Hm?" She smirked. She had to admit, the nickname was slowly growing on her.

"What's going on?"

"You're asking me what's going on? Let's talk about you, instead. What's going on with YOU?" She scolded, her eyes narrowing into thin slits.

"Hm?"

"I rarely visit your castle and find you whole anymore. Always on something."

Oh, so that was what she was talking about. Pure Vanilla dreaded the day they'd have this conversation. It was almost inevitable, but he liked to bask in the possibility that the other simple wouldn't bring it up. His face went pale as he stared at her dumbfoundedly. He wasn't sure how to address this.

And she sensed it. She didn't know how to address this, either. What a predicament. "Ugh, anywho. Just eat your food for now."

Silence filled the room. Pure Vanilla stared at the bowl and then back at her. He grabbed the spoon and stirred the stew. And then stirred some more, and kept stirring—watchful gaze of the other piercing him, until he opened his mouth to say something. Judging by the way Blueberry Farmer Cookie slammed the table in front of her and stomped towards him, she already knew what he was about to say.

"Listen here," she snatched the spoon right out of his hand and scooped a mouthful of stew. "You are not leaving this place before you eat your entire bowl."

"I..." he gasped. "Where even is 'this place' anyway?!"

"Well, eh. We're not at the Vanilla Kingdom, that's for sure."

Just what kind of ominous answer was that? They're not at the Vanilla kingdom—that was painfully obvious ever since he stepped outside last night. She was definitely hiding something. The climate and vegetation of this place seemed too foreign for his kingdom—in fact, too foreign for any of his friend's kingdoms. Was this even Crispia?

"What?"

"W-wait—" he was right. This wasn't Crispia at all. This was an entirely different continent, there was no other explanation. "Are we in Beast Yeast?!?"

"Hehe, maybe," she snorted.

"Maybe?! Shadow Milk— why?! That's like the other end of the globe!" He panicked. "I— I can't be here! I have duties!"

"First of all, it's Blueberry Farmer Cookie," she corrected him. "Second of all, will you shut your damn trap for a second? I am doing this for YOU, you know. Would you rather wilt away all alone or have a gorgeous woman such as myself take care of you?"

"But— but Beast Yeast?! That's... that's too far away."

"Oh please. You and your little friends hear "Beast Yeast" and immediately start trembling like little rabbits in your own skin. BLEHHH, that's why I love that pink lady one—Jollyberry or whatever her name was. Go ask her, this place isn't THAT bad," she objected. "Plus, look at the mushroom villagers. Aren't they lovely? They don't even notice it when you give them fake money! Ahahaha!"

"Blueberry..." Pure Vanilla clutched his robes where his heart would be.

"Hehe, I love that name," she smiled, a subtle blush resting on her cheeks as she poked his cheek with her free hand. "Call me that more often."

"This isn't the time for this—"

Before he could finish his sentence, she shoved the spoon into his mouth. "You're right, it isn't."

Taken aback, he flinched a little. He covered his mouth when she pulled the spoon back out, savoring the taste before swallowing. "This... This does taste pretty good..."

"What did I tell you?" She bragged.

"I..."

The words caught up in his throat. He sighed.

"I'll take you back in a few weeks."

"What about the kingdom? My people?" He quavered. "I can't leave my people alone..."

"Oh, psh, they'll be fine," she dismissed him, dunking the spoon back into the bowl. If this is the only way Pure Vanilla will eat something, then she had no issue with it.

Even after all this time, the vanilla cookie couldn't bear the guilt to leave his kingdom. Even if he knew they'll be fine, even if he desperately needed some alone time—and especially not without warning. The first time he had gone to Beast Yeast, he had to emotionally prepare himself for weeks. Waking up in the middle of another continent was such a shock to his system that the only reason he hadn't started panicking yet was because he didn't want to worry his other half. Despite that, the stress was hard to miss in his voice. "Do you really think that?"

"Mhm... Plus, if anything bad happens, I can take you back there immediately. In fact, you wanna take a look?" She summoned a palm sized magic globe and offered it to him.

"Yes, please. I have to."

"Okie dokie."

The scenery inside the globe swirled and blurred to reveal a clear picture of the Vanilla kingdom. It switched panels slowly between various areas—the bustling streets, the gardens, the school, and even the inside of the castle. "See? All good."

"I... I'm still not sure about this."

Blueberry Farmer Cookie lifted an eyebrow.

"But I suppose I can stay here shortly," he added.

"Ah, sensational!" She pushed another spoonful into his mouth, and Pure Vanilla gagged. "Now, eat your stew."

Starting to calm down, Pure Vanilla reluctantly nodded, savoring the taste. Only a short while here wouldn't hurt. And his other half was right—the mushroom cookies living here all seemed lovely.

Perhaps, he could even become their healer during his stay.

#shadowvanilla #cookie run #fanfic #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #hurt/comfort #ao3 writer

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