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lime is very light srry I'm getting better promise
TW: Mentions of Necrophilia.
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Love was cruel. Especially to one Cookie: Shadow Milk Cookie. She had always been so full of herself, a jester who believed that anything she did was for the greater good. And, of course, the greater good was always her. Shadow Milk Cookie had never really questioned that notion—her performances were grand, her energy infectious, her sense of humor unrivaled. Everything she did had a flair to it, an essence of excellence that made everyone around her adore her. At least, that's what she convinced herself of. Every time she laughed, every time she made the world around her feel alive with her performances, she was certain she was making the world a better place—making it a place for her.
But now? Now, Shadow Milk Cookie had been reduced to something unrecognizable, something she hated more than anything: a mere pawn in someone else's game. A beast who had found herself stuck at the short end of a relationship. She wasn't just the third wheel; she was invisible, unimportant, disposable. And worse, the one who had taken the attention she believed was rightfully hers? That insufferable goddess, Pure Vanilla Cookie.
Pure Vanilla Cookie was everything that Shadow Milk Cookie both admired and despised. A Goddess of Truth, Pure Vanilla was so unnervingly nice that it made Shadow Milk Cookie want to scream. She was kind to everyone, unconditionally, which should have been a virtue. But to Shadow Milk Cookie? It was infuriating. It made her want to strangle her, to show Pure Vanilla that the pathetic other Cookie, White Lily, didn't deserve her attention.
White Lily Cookie, with her delicate beauty and graceful presence, was everything Shadow Milk Cookie wasn't. Pure Vanilla Cookie and White Lily Cookie were so undeniably close, it sent bile rising in Shadow Milk Cookie's throat just thinking about it. They were always together, always whispering secrets, sharing intimate moments, laughing in ways that Shadow Milk Cookie had once been privy to. But now? Now she was left watching from the sidelines, locked in the bitter cage of jealousy, as the two of them seemed to drift further and further away from her.
And so, in the silence of her room, Shadow Milk Cookie would daydream. She would lie in her bed, clutching a voodoo doll of Pure Vanilla Cookie in her hands. It had started as a mere fantasy, an escape from the pain that threatened to overwhelm her. The doll was an innocent little thing, sewn together with care. But it was no longer innocent. She had grown obsessed with it, turning her every waking thought to the doll in her hands, imagining it as a representation of Pure Vanilla, her soft body, her sweetness, and her own heart that she so desperately wanted to claim.
Not a single needle had been stuck in the doll, though. Shadow Milk Cookie had hesitated far too long to act on the impulse. She stared at the doll, narrowing her eyes, trying to convince herself to plunge the needle into it, as if it would somehow drive the same pain into Pure Vanilla Cookie. But every time she tried, the thought of what that would mean—the consequences, the end of whatever fragile thread remained between them—stopped her. She couldn't do it. Not yet.
But how could she not? Shadow Milk Cookie's obsession consumed her. She could think of nothing else but Pure Vanilla, and the sickening image of White Lily clinging to her, taking everything that should have been hers. It wasn't just jealousy; it was desperation. Shadow Milk Cookie believed, deep down, that Pure Vanilla belonged to her. They had shared a souljam! A bond that no one could understand, a connection that had once felt so pure, so perfect. She and Pure Vanilla had spent countless hours together, joking, performing, sharing moments that no one else could touch. They had laughed, cried, and made memories that burned brightly in Shadow Milk Cookie's mind. They were friends, weren't they? Friends in a way that went beyond simple companionship. But now... Now, it seemed as though all of that was worthless.
Her thoughts spiraled as she recalled the times they had shared, the countless moments when Shadow Milk Cookie had let herself fall deeper into her feelings, convincing herself that Pure Vanilla felt the same. Surely, Pure Vanilla had to know. Surely, she must have understood the depths of Shadow Milk Cookie's adoration. Shadow Milk Cookie had given so much of herself—her time, her energy, her soul—to Pure Vanilla, and yet, she could never quite make the goddess see what was right in front of her.
And then came White Lily. The soft, delicate cookie who seemed to draw Pure Vanilla in with her ethereal presence. Shadow Milk Cookie couldn't understand it. Wasn't it obvious that she was the better option? The more exciting one, the more vibrant one? She was everything White Lily wasn't, and yet Pure Vanilla had chosen to give her heart to that pale imitation of kindness and grace. Shadow Milk Cookie clenched her fists tightly as she lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
Her mind wandered to that thought. Was she so wrong? Was she truly the monster here? Were they even "dating"? Were they even friends anymore? What did that bond mean now? Was it ever real? Shadow Milk Cookie didn't know, and frankly, she didn't care. She couldn't care. She had to believe that Pure Vanilla was hers. She had to. She couldn't accept this betrayal. Not after all the time they had spent together, the way Pure Vanilla had shown her the world, the way she had made Shadow Milk Cookie feel like she was the most important person in the room on those glorious nights, soft pants filled Shadow Milk Cookie's head, all of the sounds belonging to Pure Vanilla- memories that made her crotch burn and her head swim in anger, knowing that she wasn't the only one who could make the goddess feel this way.
The goddess had shown her a side of herself that no one else had seen, letting down her robes, letting Shadow Milk Cookie glimpse beneath the surface, beyond the polished exterior. Shadow Milk Cookie had seen the real Pure Vanilla Cookie, and she had fallen in love with it, with her. But how could she have been so blind? How could she have been so foolish to think that her love would be enough? Every time Pure Vanilla left, every time they parted ways, Shadow Milk Cookie felt a wave of shame. Not for what they had done, but for who she had become in the process. The shame she felt was unbearable. She had let herself become someone she didn't even recognize, someone who could no longer control her impulses.
The jester's anger bubbled over, a shrill shriek escaping her lips as she grabbed the voodoo doll and hurled it across the room. The doll's head struck the wall with a soft thud and then fell to the floor, lifeless. Shadow Milk Cookie stared at it, her chest heaving with frustration and rage. She hoped, with all her heart, that Pure Vanilla would feel something from that hit. Maybe a concussion, maybe a painful reminder of the mess Shadow Milk Cookie had become. But deep down, she knew the truth. Pure Vanilla would heal. Always.
No matter what Shadow Milk Cookie did, no matter how much she tried to win her back, she was at a loss. She had tried everything—performed grand shows, poured her heart into every interaction—but it was never enough. She had been reduced to a shadow of herself, endlessly trying to win the affection of a goddess who had already given her heart to someone else. But Shadow Milk Cookie was too far gone. She could not stop. She would not stop. If she had to tear apart the world to make Pure Vanilla hers, then so be it.
Shadow Milk Cookie knew what she had to do now. She had to take matters into her own hands. She had to make Pure Vanilla Cookie hers, once and for all. Even if her love didn't breathe, didn't move, and would slowly rot by the day, it didn't matter. It had to be done. Shadow Milk Cookie stood up, her hands trembling as she grabbed the needle, its cold metal gleaming in the dim light of her room.
She walked slowly toward the doll, her heart pounding in her chest. Her fingers curled tightly around the needle, the desire to see Pure Vanilla hurt coursing through her veins. She whispered to herself, barely audible, "Pure Vanilla Cookie..." Her lips curled into a sadistic grin, a twisted satisfaction building within her. "You will make a wonderful puppet."
With that, she raised the needle. One swift motion, and it would plunge into the doll's forehead, right at the scar that marked Pure Vanilla's weakness, the part of her that Shadow Milk Cookie longed to control. Shadow Milk Cookie hesitated for a moment, her mind clouded with doubt. But in the end, it didn't matter. She couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop. The needle would fall. And in that moment, Shadow Milk Cookie would have her power over Pure Vanilla Cookie. And maybe, just maybe, she could make the goddess hers.
