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meloncholy-words · 1 year

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Eyes That Burn, Please, Look Away

Madeleine Cookie had picked up a hobby. He decided he wanted to expand on his skills, and painting seemed to interest him enough. He has set a goal today, and he was doing great, until a certain obstacle decided to rear its head.

//disclaimer, I’m a digital and alcohol marker/just pencil artist, I don’t work with paints and am bullshitting my way through most of this. also this whole story is like, entirely inspired by his April Fool’s sprite haha. also this is set before Madeleine goes traveling and stuff. it wasn't initially but it ended up being that way lol.

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Warnings: Descriptions of facial dysmorphia(probably? I'm not quite sure if that's what it is but I'm not sure what else to call it), talk of self-doubt, I think that's it?

AO3

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Madeleine would say that his newest painting looked good so far. Great, even. He’d taken to painting as a way to expand his skill set, and maybe possibly also a way to cool down every now and then. And he was fairly good at it.

He’d been taught to paint when he was younger, having the most expensive and studious tutors brought to him, but had abandoned it to be a warrior. As missions became a little less frequent, he decided to brush the rust from his hands and pick it up once more.

He’d started off simple, refamiliarizing himself with the tools and techniques, before diving into some bigger pieces. Madeleine found himself to be great at landscapes, able to fill large canvases with delicate hues of pinks and greens and blues, shaping a world that existed only in the deep of his imagination. He could layer the colors on each other with ease, and seemed to barely make a mistake, and if he did, it would only ever help to bring the piece together.

And now, the harder part: people. Should he attempt to add someone he was familiar with into his scapes, they would become blotches of color amongst the trees, the colors blending in such a horribly crude way; should he attempt to make someone up from scratch, he would fall into an empty space.

So, obviously, the only thing he could do was a self portrait! If he could not cast the visions of others through the instruments in his hands, then he would simply do himself. Who else could he be more familiar with?

He started simple, laying a nice, deep blue to start, delicately crafting a soft gradient to a lighter blue in the center. So far, so good. With a white leaded pencil, he sketched out a rough base. A mirror sat just to his left, and he sketched as he saw, touching the pencil to the dried paint so gently you’d think if he pressed any harder it would shatter like glass.

The sketch was nothing extraordinary, just a silhouette with faint lines etched across to imply where everything inside existed. Ok, he could work with this!

He squeezed his paint out into his pallet, mixing them to create the tones of his being. He started with his hair, laying down the darkest parts first to create the soft shape of his golden locks. Once that paint was half-dried, he laid down lighter tones, using the wet of the paint to blend the colors together.

He gathered some more bottles into his arms, and began mixing once more, attempting to make a good enough skin tone. Making sure the first few colors were dry, he began laying down the deepest colors, followed by the lighter colors and some blending. He glanced over his features once more, before deciding to add reddish hues into the colors of his cheeks and the tip of his nose. A soft pink was used to shape the lips, and he felt somewhat satisfied… until he looked upwards.

A void of fleshy tones stared at him, as best it could without eyes. But that… that was okay! It was a small detail he could focus on later. The paint was still wet, and if he mixed the pale blues with the warm browns and pinks, surely, it wouldn’t look good! Yeah, yeah, that was it.

Once more, he repeated his process, with deep grays for his shirt and layering on softer grays and off whites, being sure to keep the outline of his muscles prominent, but not too much. He was humble, of course. With a final, sweeping stroke, his painting was finished. The brilliant blue of the background made the warm colors of his person really pop. His brilliant blonde locks were a beautiful tangle on his painted head, framing his face so perfectly, with his chiseled jaw and sculpted nose, lips so delicate and prime. And his eyes, oh, his eyes… were absent.

Yes, of course they were… he’d had reason to skip that part, but touching his soft fingertips to the void of flesh left no sticky residue, indicating it had dried already. There was truly no avoiding it. But surely this was no big obstacle! Everyone had praised his eyes, so vibrant and true, and he’d made paintings with such passion in them before. For one such as Madeleine Cookie, this was a simple feat!

But then again, he had never shared the sentiments others had about his eyes. Though he encouraged and basked in the praise, whenever he would meet his own gaze in a reflection, something was always… off. Just like now, as he stared into the mirror beside him. Beautiful, they called them. So charming, so entrancing. All he could think was that they were just wrong.

He couldn’t tell why, but they were. They pierced through his skin like a needle through fabric, setting his blood to a boil and digging a pit through his stomach. He felt sick, like who he was watching in the mirror wasn’t himself. Looking anywhere else, he was fine, but when his eyes met themselves, he was riddled with fear. It didn’t look like him, didn’t feel like him.

With possibly too much effort than was needed, he pried his gaze away, fixed to the empty space he needed to fill. Sweat had built up on his pale skin, his breathing becoming labored and heavy. And he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why.

It’s alright, Madeleine thought, I can fix it. I can fix this. I can fix me.

But truthfully, he couldn’t. The whites of his eyes had gone down easy, but the iris was never right. Too dark, then too bright, then just too harsh of a gaze. Then he began to notice that the shape was wrong, and the layer of paint began to build up in his attempt to fix it. Madeleine began to think that maybe it was the lack of eyelashes, not framing his eyes right. But nothing seemed to be perfect. Nothing seemed to be him.

By the time he had given up, his upper face had become nothing but smears of blue and streaks of white he tried to fix it with. With hands shaking, paint threatened to collapse from his grip. His eyes stung in frustration, but tears refused to spill. He refused to let them. His throat felt dry, caught and twisted in itself. His chest felt sore, and his fingers gripped the handle to the brush until his knuckles were a bright red and his palms were bleeding.

Madeleine ran the brush through the pallet, picking up mostly white, before spreading it over the top of his face. His body felt numb as he did this, not fully aware of anything. After a few strokes he let out a frustrated yell, throwing everything down and storming out. He made his way to his bedroom, unable to stop the tears which now flowed freely. He threw himself into his sheets, soft and warm, burying his face as deep as he could. He already felt like he couldn’t breathe, and this was certainly not helping, but he didn’t care in the moment.

Why couldn’t he seem to get anything right..?

===

“Oh, Madeleine dearest, why did you hide this? It’s beautiful!”

The residents of House Madeleine were enjoying dinner when Madeleine’s second aunt came into the dining hall, his abandoned painting held softly in her arms. There was a sense of pride as it rested there neatly, almost masking the shame of the dreadful painting. And yet, no matter how much he has despised it, his family felt quite different. A running theme, it seems.

The rest of his aunts leapt from their spots, flocking to the product of their beloved Madeleine. Praise flew from their lips the moment they saw it, melding a cloud of what seemed to be simply gibberish. Despite hardly understanding what they were saying, he felt his cheeks gain a warm glow. He was used to compliments, but it always felt different from his family.

“Oh, what is with this?” his first aunt began, running her hand along the white paint that blurred his embarrassment.

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s beautiful anyways,” replied his second.

“Perhaps he couldn’t quite capture his own beauty?” piped in his third, “It is quite much, after all.”

“Maddy?” There were eyes on him, he could feel, but he did not meet them. Gently, he pushed around his food, trying to think of something to say.

“I- I think it captures me quite well,” he began loudly, putting on a face of pride, “blindingly beautiful and so heavenly graceful!”

There was a moment of silence. A moment where Madeleine had thought his composure had cracked just enough they could tell he was lying to them. Enough they could see through him and straight to the problem. But instead the moment remained brief, with his aunties giggling to themselves, making little affirmative noises. They had believed him.

There was a grip in his grip, twisting in the rest of his organs. He felt bad lying to them, but knew he couldn’t really explain what was wrong without sounding crazy. But then again, he has always thought they were lying about the beauty his eyes held, so perhaps this made them even.

His second aunt made a comment about hanging it in the hall, and before he could think to make any noise of protest, they were off. That was probably the best outcome in all fairness. He didn’t know what he could possibly say to change their minds, and didn’t feel like explaining himself anyways.

Anxiety filled his stomach as he sat in the silence. He’d have to see it as he walked the halls now. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could just ignore it. Block it out. He certainly couldn’t remove it. With the fork in his hand, he returned to pushing around the meat and veggies sitting on the plate before him as an idea struck him.

Maybe he didn’t have to see it. Traveling Earthbread and spreading hope, joy, and justice had always been an idea in the family. He’d dropped painting before to be the valiant warrior he is today, maybe he could do it again.

The thought was now cemented in his brain, much like the gaze he couldn’t stand to look at. Swiftly, he moved from his chair and made his way back into his chambers. He would bring up the idea later. For now, he has lost his appetite.

#cookie run #cookie run fic #madeleine cookie #facial dysmorphia #<that's what i tried writing it as at least. mightve done it poorly lol #i dont think i need to tag anything else but please lmk if i should!

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abundanceoflol · 2 years

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Chapter 5 in a Nutshell

Raspberry: if you ask me to stand down, i’ll stand down

Hollyberry: stand down

Raspberry:

#cookie run #cookie run fic #abundance of lol au #raspberry cookie #hollyberry cookie #listen the loyalty crisis happened but it happened at the funniest pace

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moss-c0uch · 2 years

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its up!!

#🧺.txt #it was up this morning but!!!#yayyy!!!#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ovenbreak #frost queen cookie #snow sugar cookie #ao3 #new fic #cookie run fic

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snail-noodle · 3 months

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"my my my... what do we have here?"

you shivered in fear at the gigantic being before you. you and your cookie friends had tried your best to seal the rift in the tree with white lily cookie. however, your actions proved pointless. white lily cookie's powers were still too weak and your time had run out. you all watched in horror at the towering cookie grinning down from above.

"it's been so long since we've seen new faces! we were starting to get bored being by ourselves in here..." shadow milk cookie smirked as he took a look at each cookie standing before him. when his eyes had reached you, his gaze stayed far more longer on you than the others. you trembled from his piercing stare, a small whimper escaping from your lips as you backed away and hid yourself behind pure vanilla cookie.

shadow milk cookie chortled at the pathetic display. "Oh, how I have missed the faces of fear from you cookies! Never gets old!" now that the rift had opened big enough for him to pass through, shadow milk cookie stepped out of the silver tree that had kept him and the others imprisoned for so long. the smaller cookies screamed in terror as they scrambled to get out of his way. every footstep he took practically shook the earthbread beneath their feet.

"pure vanilla cookie!" fear clouded your mind as you tugged your leader's arm in desperation. "what are we going to do?!" anxiety gripped your heart when he hesitated to think of a solution. one of the most powerful beings in all of cookiekind has just been unleashed and is ready to bring chaos to the world once more. just how on earthbread will any cookie be able to stop such beasts?

before pure vanilla cookie could even think of an answer, you cried out in alarm as you were suddenly lifted into the air. the other cookies screamed your name as you watched their forms grow smaller and smaller. you gasped as you were face to face with the grinning jester.

"what a cute little cookie you are." he eagerly examined you as if he were a child that had been given a new toy, turning you this way and that. "it's been ages since i had a little pet to dote on. you'll make a fine addition to my collection!" your mind raced as you tried to understand what you have just heard. a collection? a pet to dote on? what on-?!

your thoughts were interrupted as you heard a snap of... fingers? confused, you found yourself locked inside some sort of bird cage; the bars were thick enough to keep you from escaping. shadow milk cookie cooed as he watched you attempt to break free. "no-!" you tugged and pulled at the bars keeping you in.

"no! y-you can't keep me in here! Please!" you cried out to him in desperation. shadow milk cookie only giggled and shook his head, "ah, ah, ah! you're staying right by my side, my little cookie." you shuddered in fear as he began to summon his powers once more. shadows seeped out from your surroundings and from his body. multiple cold blue eyes stared at you and the cookies still down below.

"now, my dear..." with a clap of his hands, monsters of every kind stepped out from the shadows, ready to obey their master. with a manic grin, shadow milk cookie spread his arms out in grandeur to the cookies below. with a perfect view from above, you could only watch in horror as your friends were surrounded at every side by monsters of different sizes.

"let the show begin!"

#i believe in giant fallen heroes #just imagine them actually being much larger than normal cookies #anyway yeah i want to smooch the jester #this is short but i do plan on writing more; possibly make longer fics #just need some motivation aaaaa #not really a canon x self #but it could lead into it... hmmmmm #anywayyy enoyyyyyy :]#shadow milk cookie #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #shadow milk cookie x reader #crk #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #fanfiction #selfshipping

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janayuga · 2 months

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We know about their wedding & renewal of vows.. but how about DC & PV’s prom? 👀

I’m guessing they were the Prom Kings of their school 💕

(Please excuse the sub-bar art, ive had a massive migraine all day but I really wanted to finish this T-T)

Nope! Golden Cheese, being the school’s Queen Bee, won by a landslide, all by herself.

Girlie doesn’t need no Promking or Promqueen at her side to win 💪

(Purecacao was voted as cutest couple though and spent most their prom dancing or snuggling somewhere🫶)

#please someone tell me they recognize the outfit i put on Vanilla #also had HAD to include the little gems you included in the fic #too fucking cute #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom au #sketch #doodle #pure vanilla cookie #purecacao #dark cacao cookie #golden cheese cookie #white lily cookie #hollyberry cookie #ancient cookies

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tongues--and--teeth · 2 months

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Lovvveeeee this fic from @thebiscuitlabryinth sooo much omg. She’s such a visual writer I felt like I could actually see what was going on while reading lol.

Click for better quality!

POV: you’re Pure Vanilla Cookie

#Sorry for the tag!#I cannot give compliments for the life of me sorry #tbf I really like all his fics #but this one….. I am a sucker for dream sequences and stained glass….#couldn’t get SM’s soul jam fizzling out to look right #like I drew a whole abyss thing under it but it just kinda… didn’t work #anyway SM in light while PVs in more shadow a la we’re two sides of the same coin #they’re so special to me I also think they kiss right after this /j #crk #teethart #cookie run fanart #cookie run kingdom #fanart #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk crk #cookie run #pure vanilla crk #pure vanilla cookie #vanilla milkshake #shadowvanilla #pureshadow #pure vanilla x shadow milk #digital art #artists on tumblr #honestly though it might just be the flu talking but this might be legit the best thing I’ve ever drawn #They're in the solarium of unity right??? bc I swear I saw that

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plutoniclol · 8 months

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Late Night — CapChat fluff

- using transfem they/them Langue De Chat hc + transfem he/she Cappuccino hc - established relationship

reblogs appreciated!

for @walnutcookie / @lesbian-de-chat ENJOY YOUR SILLIES !!

tik, tock, tik, tock. clackle, clackle.

The sounds of typing and the clock blended together, as Cappuccino Cookie worked in his home office. How long had it been? Cappuccino Cookie didn’t bother checking. He still had so much left to do, she wasn’t stopping yet, despite her exhaustion.

Well, until Langue De Chat Cookie walked in.

Langue was just about ready to head off to sleep until they saw the office light still on.

What on Earthbread is he working on..? They thought.

Langue walked into the office to find a working Cappuccino, who’s eye bags were much more prominent than normal, and she seemed weary from the constant work load.

“Why are you up so late?” Langue De Chat Cookie asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Still got some work to do. I’ll be in bed in like… two hours.” Cappuccino Cookie mumbled, leaning on her hand as he used his other hand to use the trackpad.

Langue sighed, “If you keep working, you’ll be absolutely exhausted tomorrow. It’s already very late at night.”

Cappuccino Cookie grumbled, not looking up from her work for a second. “I’ll be fine, Langue. I’ve spent countless nights awake anyway.”

Langue wasn’t having any of that. They walked over to where Cappuccino sat, sitting right next to him. “Then if you don’t sleep, I’m not either.”

Cappuccino Cookie finally looked up from his work, looking at Langue De Chat Cookie’s green eyes through their glasses. Langue seemed almost… serious..?

“Don’t do this to me…” Cappuccino Cookie muttered. Langue simply raised their eyebrow, crossing their arms. “Alright, alright… I’ll go to sleep tonight.”

Langue De Chat smirked, standing up and helping Cappuccino up from her crappy office chair, and they walked to their bedroom.

Cappuccino Cookie collapsed into bed, spent from working. Langue climbed in, lying on Cappuccino Cookie’s chest.

“Why are you so good to me..?” Cappuccino Cookie asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Because I love you, silly.” Langue De Chat chuckled.

“I… love you too…” Cappuccino said, yawning a little.

“Get some rest, you’re gonna need it.” Langue giggled, feeling as Cappuccino Cookie’s muscles untensed in their arms. Finally, Cappuccino Cookie could have a little break, with help from Langue De Chat Cookie.

Langue De Chat was going to make sure that Cappuccino got the rest he needed and deserved.

#cookie run #cookie run fic #capchat #cappuccino cookie #langue de chat cookie x cappuccino cookie #cappucino #langue de chat #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run oneshots #NO JOKE WRITING THIS SO LATE AT NIGHT #IM SORRY IF THIS IS BAD JNSIMSK #plutoniclol #plutoniclol writes

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thebiscuitlabryinth · 2 months

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Here is a secret: Pure Vanilla Cookie had felt like he was being watched for a long, long time.

He can't quite pinpoint when exactly that started, if it was before or after he earned his Soul Jam. He thinks it must have been after, because he thinks he wrote it off as the Light of Truth's presence, but the specifics don't really matter. Either way, the feeling of eyes on him had been so constant that it faded into normalcy, and he hadn't noticed it since.

Until now.

Now, with Shadow Milk Cookie breaching the seal, and crumbling Elder Faerie Cookie, and White Lily Cookie becoming the new Guardian of the Seal, and White Lily Cookie being really and truly back in the first place and– and—

The point is that Pure Vanilla is quickly realising that a lot of his prior assumptions don't hold weight anymore. A lot of things he had believed to be unshakeable truths turned out to be wrong or, even worse... well, lies.

And these realisations aren't all bad, truly. Some are sweet with relief and the familiar scent of lilies. But his feelings on the matter aren't helped by the fact that suddenly, for the first time in years, he can feel those eyes on him again in piercing clarity, burning with a malice he had failed to notice all this time.

Pure Vanilla does his best to leave them be, focusing on the unmistakeable warmth of White Lily at his side, and the determined hearts of the children, and everything that needs to be done. It is uncomfortable, but it is manageable.

Delivering word to Crispia about the situation is no quick business, let alone waiting for word to return back. As such, they are staying in Faeriewood for the foreseeable future, waiting on a response from the Republic or the other Heroes. The Faerie Cookies are lovely and more than welcome to the notion, though that is hardly a surprise with how beloved White Lily is to them, and rightly so.

Pure Vanilla Cookie, to his credit, does his best to relax as they wait, but it is increasingly difficult as time wears on. He cannot bear to go anywhere near the Silver Tree, because the weight of that gaze increases by a tenfold whenever he is anywhere near its vicinity, almost crushing him, as if urging him to- well, it makes navigating the Faerie Kingdom difficult, if he cannot get too close to its centre.

Pure Vanilla sighs from where he is settled gingerly down among the soft pastels of the flowers, nestled carefully beneath the shade of the bending canopy of less dangerous trees. From here, he can see White Lily's radiant figure across the bridges and walkways, roped up in conversation with the Silver Tree Knights and surely discussing her new title and all that may entail. Whatever the case, he is content to have her within his sight, soothing some age-old nerves.

He busies his hands with a flower crown, the repetitive motions helping to distract from the twisting trunks of the trees lingering in the corner of his vision, their silvery bark marred with dozens of squinting eyes, black as shadows with vibrant blue—

No, no, no – but it's too late, Pure Vanilla's hands stumbling on his work and crushing a flower in his clumsiness. Regret instantly soaks into his core, and he hurriedly releases the poor bud, only feeling worse when he sees that some of its nectar and colour has stained his hands. Such delicate beauty, destroyed by his own foolishness. He certainly can't give this crown to White Lily now.

Bitterly unwanted, the thought that Shadow Milk must be laughing at him now flits across his mind, and he drops the flower crown like its petals are dripping poison, lest he ruin it any further.

In the end, no matter how much he pushes it aside, his thoughts always swing back to the same dreadful realisation. If Shadow Milk has been watching him all along - and deep down, Pure Vanilla knows it to be true, even though he hates it - then he must have seen everything. Every moment he was vulnerable, every moment he was hiding, every moment he thought was private.

It's terrifying. His mind keeps reeling at the mere idea, flicking through his lowest moments with the aching, sickening knowledge that he had seen it all. It feels unfathomably invasive, almost as much as Shadow Milk's voice burrowing into his head like it belongs there. Nothing Pure Vanilla has experienced has been solely his own, and it seems like it never was.

Pure Vanilla is saved from his own sinking thoughts by the gentle warble of birdsong, and grateful for the distraction, he looks up to find a small bird descending from the canopy. Admittedly, it is different from the blue birds he is used to, looking to be a spore variant of some sort, but he smiles at it just as cheerfully.

"Hello, chickadee. How are you today?" He greets affectionately, voice warming as he holds out a hand for the spore bird to land on. It does with a chirped greeting back, and for the briefest, most blissful moment, Pure Vanilla feels light with the simplest happiness.

And then the bird looks up at him, with not two, or four, but countless eyes opening across its entire body, inky black and mockingly blue.

Pure Vanilla startles fiercely, jolting back and shutting his eyes tightly on instinct, and the movement is more than enough to scare the bird away, but he is too occupied with fumbling for his staff in the grass beside him to pay it any mind.

Finally, his fingers find purchase, and he hastily lifts the staff upright, half-leaning against it as he looks through its eye. The pupil darts around until it lands on the bird once more, where it has fled back to a perch among the branches.

It looks normal, or as normal as a spore variant can be. It certainly doesn't have a hundred knowing eyes.

The trees don't have eyes either, for that matter.

Pure Vanilla presses his forehead against his staff, desperately tempted to keep his eyes closed forever, to rely solely on his staff so he doesn't have to risk seeing anything unreal. It's a dangerous, guilty thought, but it persists even when he gathers the strength to crack his own eyes open once more.

He blinks once, twice, hesitantly looking around.

There are no eyes. Just a spooked spore bird in the canopy, a half-crushed flower crown hanging off his lap, and White Lily in the distance, now joined by an energetic Gingerbrave and his friends.

Pure Vanilla watches for a moment, waiting. When everything remains as it is, he sighs again, heavily, wearily, and sinks back into the bed of flowers, holding his staff to his chest in a loose grip, even as he lays down.

He thinks he hears a mean giggle chime faintly in his ears, but what does he know? That's probably a lie too.

#here's a ficlet because i couldn't help myself #personally if i got told by The Worst Person I've Ever Met that they had been watching me all along #that'd be a major cause for psychological distress!! i think!!#also i am a huge supporter and believer of sm living in pv's head moving forward #but just know that the eyes in this fic?? that is all pv babyy #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #← technically. his presence is felt #cookie run kingdom #crk #the biscuit library

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