It starts with a girl and her pen Cookiesona-centered selfship/dating sim AU of @avas-wonderland Avery | Artist & Creator Askbox: Open PFP art by @amnesia780 on TikTok
“What happens when a cookie’s arrival to the Cookie World changes what events unfolded there entirely? Especially when she faces the hearts she stole with it?”
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Hi, I’m Avery (She/Her, 26)
This blog is an dating sim-esqe alternate universe of Cookie Run Kingdom involving my cookiesona Stylus Cookie, an artist gifted with nothing but a magic sword-like stylus pen to draw her way through Earthbread’s travels, as the protagonist.
It centered around oc x canon/selfshipping of Stylus Cookie and my f/os from the Cookie Run Franchise
You get to choose whichever route she goes on with the cookies whose eyes she’s caught woth comedy, love and adventures that follows!
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About Stylus Cookie
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Route Masterlist (WIP)
Prologue
Main Route
🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵
Mint Choco Route
Burning Spice Cookie Route
Royal Margarine Route
Rebel Cookie Route
Cream Unicorn Route
Wildberry Cookie Route
Shadow Milk Cookie Route
🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹
EXTRA:
Smoked Scales Route (
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(Note: it’s still a work in progress so it’ll grow more organized soon)
Y/N: You’re such a good friend, Shadow Milk, I admire you greatly.
Shadow Milk: Um, news flash! Im doing this all for me, you’re just a small factor in a muuuch greater plan! I would never really be your friend! Ptuey! The audacity!
Later in the spire of deceit, Shadow Milk is on his bed kicking his legs, blushing and giggling, surrounded by pictures and dolls of Y/N. He’s replaying the memory in his mind while he sews another one.
Black sapphire in the doorway with candy apple behind him: uh.. master?
His form erupts into a dark spiky mass with blue eyes to hide all the items around him.
big FOs picking you up and bringing you to bed when it's bedtime, big FOs dragging your other FOs to bed for much needed cuddle time before falling asleep, big FOs being the biggest spoon for all the other smaller FOs and you <3
Im back on track! Wow! This series is growing big with members ngl
Summary:You're a coder.. Honestly WHAT use is mentioning this for! Literally you're discussing to rule the world with shadow milk cookie
Ship:Self AWARE!Shadow milk cookie X Coder! Y/n
Parts: part 1,part 2, part 3,part 4
(MY FIRST GIF OH MY GOSHHHHH!!!?????)
Shadow Milk didn't just walk; he danced through the air, his movements a series of jagged, theatrical twirls as he began to monologue. The somberness of the meal was gone, replaced by the high-voltage energy of a director who had just found his favorite villainous motivation.
"Cowards, Scribe! Absolute, uninspired, shivering cowards!" he barked, his laugh sounding like glass shattering in a cathedral. He gestured wildly at the news feeds flickering on the walls—faces of Prime Ministers and world leaders looking grim behind podiums. "I have analyzed their 'leadership.' I have peered into the logic of their bureaucracies. They don't seek progress; they seek the easiest target! They prey on the weak to maintain a facade of strength. It’s a repetitive, poorly acted drama that has been running for centuries!"
He landed on the arm of a chair, crouching like a gargoyle, his violet eyes burning with a manic light.
"If they want a spectacle of power, I shall give them one they cannot survive! I will turn their borders into stage curtains and their summits into a circus! Since they love to bully the defenseless, I shall show them what it feels like to be the smallest thing in the room. I’ll make this world a masterpiece of chaos, where the 'powerful' are nothing more than puppets tripping over their own strings!"
Y/N stood up from the table, the ring on their finger catching the dim light. They looked at the Jester—the entity currently planning to dismantle global geopolitics because he was bored with the "script."
"You are not doing that while wearing those clothes," Y/N said, their voice flat and firm, cutting through his manic energy.
Shadow Milk froze mid-gesture, his bells giving a confused little jingle. He looked down at his vibrant, mismatched patterns, the exaggerated ruff around his neck, and his pointed shoes.
"I... beg your pardon?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave. "Are you critiquing the costume of a First Sage? This 'look' has defined me for eons!"
"You just said you wanted to lead the world, not perform at a five-year-old’s birthday party," Y/N replied, crossing their arms. "If you want these 'cowardly' leaders to actually listen to you instead of just calling the national guard to net you like a stray cat, you can't show up looking like a court jester. You need to look like the authority you claim to be."
Shadow Milk stood up slowly, a long, slender finger tapping his chin as he considered this. He looked at the TV, then at Y/N, then back at his own flamboyant sleeves. The idea of a "costume change" seemed to spark an even deeper level of theatrical interest.
"A rebranding," he murmured, his grin turning sharp and thoughtful. "The Scribe suggests a more... dignified mask for the slaughter. Very well. If I am to be their King, I suppose I should at least dress for the coronation."
Y/N managed a small, genuine smile—the first one in a while that didn’t feel heavy with dread. If they were going to be teammates in this world-altering lie, they were at least going to start with a decent wardrobe. Without giving him time to protest, Y/N grabbed Shadow Milk by his slender, resin wrist and dragged him toward the bedroom.
"Wait! Scribe! This is unceremonious!" he squawked, his bells jangling frantically as he stumbled after them.
The "forceful" change was a struggle. Y/N dug out the best clothes they had—a mix of oversized hoodies and some more structured pieces—but the Sage's vessel was deceptively tall and lanky. Everything was a bit too tight, the fabric straining across his shoulders and riding up his long, blue arms. He looked less like an ancient deity and more like a disgruntled college student who had shrunk his laundry.
"I feel... constricted," he muttered, tugging at the hem of a tight shirt. "The fabric doesn't breathe. It has no soul! Where is the silk? Where is the flair?"
"It’s a disguise, Shadow Milk. Move," Y/N commanded, pulling him out the door.
The mall was a sensory nightmare for a First Sage. After a tense car ride where he spent the entire time trying to "command" the GPS to speak in rhymes, they finally stepped into the grand atrium.
Shadow Milk froze, his violet eyes darting from one neon storefront to the next. He looked at the teenagers in baggy jeans, the mannequins wearing beige athleisure, and the sheer amount of polyester on display. He looked absolutely flabbergasted.
"Is this it?" he whispered, his voice trembling with genuine offense. "This is the pinnacle of human commerce? It’s... it’s a desert of beige! There is no artistry! No drama! These people are walking around in sacks made of plastic! Scribe, the 'cowardice' of your leaders is nothing compared to the cowardice of your tailors!"
He refused to even step inside a department store, hovering near the entrance like he might catch a "boring" contagion if he touched a rack of hoodies. Every suggestion Y/N made was met with a dramatic groan or a lecture on how the color "sage green" was an insult to actual Sages.
"Fine," Y/N sighed, leaning against a railing and pulling out their phone. "If the physical world is too 'poor taste' for you, let’s try the digital one."
Y/N opened the Shoppee app and started scrolling. They knew his vibe—he wanted history, he wanted theater, and he wanted to look like he owned the room. They typed 'Victorian Gothic Men's Wear' and 'Steampunk Aristocrat' into the search bar.
"Look at these," Y/N said, turning the screen toward him.
Shadow Milk leaned in, his eyes narrowing as he scrolled through images of long, midnight-black frock coats, high-collared vests with intricate silver embroidery, and cravats that looked like they belonged in a 19th-century opera house. He saw the sharp silhouettes, the capes with silver clasps, and the deep violets and blues that matched his own marrow.
His bells gave a soft, harmonious chime. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face, his fingers twitching as if he could already feel the heavy wool and silk.
"Now... this," he purred, his voice dropping into that smooth, dangerous baritone. "This is a Lie I can live in. It has structure. It has mystery. It says, 'I am here to save you,' while the shadow says, 'I am here to rewrite you.'"
He tapped a particularly sharp velvet tailcoat with silver frogging. "That one, Scribe. And the boots with the silver buckles. If I am to be the nightmare this world never wakes up from, I shall be the best-dressed nightmare in history."
Y/N bit their lip, trying to stifle a laugh at his sudden, intense obsession with a velvet tailcoat on a mobile shopping app. It was the contrast—the supposedly all-knowing First Sage of the Cookies, hunched over a smartphone screen like a teenager looking for prom attire.
"What is so amusing, Scribe?" Shadow Milk snapped, though his eyes were dancing with a playful, manic heat. He leaned into their space, his long nose nearly touching theirs. "You dare mock the sartorial evolution of your King? I am trying to save your world from the catastrophe of fast fashion! You should be thanking me on bended knee!"
Y/N just shook their head, still smiling. "You’re just a diva, Shadow Milk."
"I am a visionary!" he countered, crossing his arms with a huff that made the bells on his jester hat (which he’d refused to leave behind, despite the tight hoodie) chime in an indignant flurry.
But the novelty of the mall faded quickly. The bland music, the smell of fried food, and the repetitive faces of shoppers began to grate on his nerves. Shadow Milk’s eyes glazed over with a dangerous boredom.
"This script is stagnant," he murmured. "It needs a third-act twist."
Before Y/N could grab his hand, he snapped his fingers.
The vibrant neon of the mall didn't just dim; it bled out. The colors of the stores drained away, replaced by a stark, monochrome palette of deep navy, sharp white, and obsidian black. The ceiling seemed to stretch upward into a void, and the floorboards beneath the feet of shoppers creaked like an old stage.
It was a knockoff theatre, a distorted reflection of his soul.
Then, the strings descended. Shimmering violet threads dropped from the shadows, latching onto the wrists and ankles of the nearby crowd. Panic flared instantly. People didn't scream; they gasped as they were jerked into a stiff, synchronized dance. A businessman was pulled into a deep, sweeping bow; a group of teenagers were made to pirouette in a circle like a grotesque music box.
Shadow Milk stood in the center of the chaos, his hands moving like a conductor's. He wasn't hurting them—not yet—but the sight of their limbs moving against their will was enough to send a wave of terror through the atrium.
"Look at them, Scribe!" he laughed, the sound echoing with a hollow, booming quality. "Finally, they have a purpose! They aren't just consumers; they are art!"
"Shadow Milk, we have to go!" Y/N hissed, grabbing his arm. The distant sound of sirens was already cutting through the "theatre" music. "The police will be here in minutes, and I don't think your Shoppee order will ship to a prison cell!"
The mention of the clothes seemed to snap him out of it. He blinked, the monochrome world flickering. "Ah. Priorities."
With another snap, the strings vanished. The mall returned to its beige reality, leaving a crowd of bewildered, shaking people collapsed on the floor. Before the first blue light could flash against the glass entrance, the two of them were gone, slipping into the shadows of the parking garage like a pair of ghosts.
Back at the Doomspire, the adrenaline had faded into a soft, heavy exhaustion. They didn't go to the monitors or the maps. Instead, they collapsed onto the oversized velvet sofa, the lights dimmed to a warm, flickering amber.
Shadow Milk had finally shed the tight human clothes, returning to his natural form, though he left the ruff off. He pulled Y/N against his side, his resin body surprisingly warm—or perhaps Y/N had just grown used to his temperature. They curled into him, the resin ring on their finger glowing faintly in the dark.
"It’s strange," Y/N whispered, their voice tired but steady. "If I hadn't stayed up that night... if I hadn't thought about making you aware, or if you had crashed a block further away... none of this would be happening. We’re only here because of a hundred tiny accidents."
Shadow Milk stayed silent for a moment, his fingers idly tracing the swirling patterns on Y/N's arm. The manic energy was gone, replaced by a rare, quiet gravity.
"In my world, Scribe, we believe in the Script," he said softly. "But the Script is a lie I tell others. Between us... I know the truth. We are a glitch. A magnificent, impossible error in the logic of the universe."
He tilted his head down, his violet eyes searching theirs. "A coincidence brought a poet of lies to the doorstep of the only person who could see through them. If it were a story, people would call it 'contrived.' But for us? It is the only thing that has ever felt real."
Y/N smiled, leaning their head against his chest, listening to the faint, clockwork hum of his essence. For a moment, the Doomspire felt like a sanctuary, a place where the world’s repetitive cycles couldn't reach them.
But outside, the moon hung heavy and wrong in the sky.
The shadows in the corner of the room didn't move with the flickering candlelight. They stayed still, jagged and sharp, like shards of broken glass.
Shadow Milk looked at Y/N as they drifted toward sleep, his expression a complicated mask of affection and something much darker. He was the Sage of Knowledge, and knowledge always came with a price. He knew how tragedies ended. He knew that a masterpiece required a sacrifice to be remembered, and that the greatest lies always claimed the heart of the liar first.
He held Y/N a little tighter, his grip almost bruising. He was a creature of destruction dressed as a savior, and the very magic that bound them together was a poison. Every chime of his bells was a countdown, a slow erosion of the world Y/N belonged to.
The "happy ending" they were building was made of paper and resin. And soon, very soon, the fire he had started to change the world would grow too large for him to control—and the Scribe would be the first thing to burn.
Ngl, the song from Beetlejuice Beetlejuice that he mouth syncs while trying to marry Lydia (and having others mouth it) feels like something SMC would do to Y/N cookie who is forced to marry him or has been with him before, but doesn't want to go through that again.
It's funny to just imagine or think about, with Pure Vanilla Cookie with GingerBrave and his friends being the others forced to lip sync along (and be "witnesses" to the "wedding") 😂
(you can find the part of the movie I'm referencing if you search "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice wedding scene")
It is something I could see him doing! Imagining the kids trying to rally together and stop him, but they just end up being caught by puppet strings and forced into lip-syncing along with him...Shadow Milk grinning the whole time...
But I think the part that really fits him is when the two float into the air (thanks to him), twirling in a sort of a slow dance...he'd definitely do that.
Love your art and always love when both your writing and art requests are open! You are one of the best I've seen and I'm a big fan! Would commission but uh...how do I put this...
*in gru's voice from the minions* in terms of money...I have no money.
On that note, may I ask for a y/n x royal margarine? He is such a smooth talker!
Hand on your shoulder its okay bestie we all are poor in this economy
If you could can you make a dabble of Royal Margarine Cookie x Reader? Possibly make the reader easy to make flustered? And/Or maybe Royal Margarine gets flustered?
Character: Royal Margarine Cookie
Words: 500~
Warning: N/A
A/N: Hmmm, why not both? easily flushed who tires to flirt x overly flirtly ends being the one flushed.
Oh, how you hated how easily he made your cheeks red. Every time he opened his mouth, he always knew which words would affect you the most. Every time it happened, you never had a comeback left to stand there flushed to all heavens as he got to enjoy your reaction.
But no more as today is the day you finally get your revenge. He was going to be the one with flushed cheeks as you had been practicing how to flirt. Going through every single material, you could find on how to woo another. Some of the stuff wasn't that useful, mainly anything that Beast Cookie published. But under all the rough, you did find some knowledge.
You don't remember how long it took, but having mentally ready yourself, knowing that he wouldn't know what was about to hit him.
“Buttercup there you are, I was wondering where you ran off to.”
Hearing his voice, you freeze, already feeling your cheeks grow warm. Of course, he had to use one of the many pet names he has for you at that moment. With your mind blanking, you did the next best thing saying the first thing that came to mind.
“Hey, beautiful! What are you doing tonight besides me?”
Barely holding it together as you slowly realize what your brain had spat out. Out of all the ones you readed, you ended up saying a cheesy pick-up line as you come back. In no right world would that work, but for a moment, he stood their eyes wide as he remained still like a deer in headlights.
“I… Oh I…”
First came the words, second came his physical reaction. Cheek flush red, giving his dough a toasted finish.
“You find me beautiful now?”
Barely recovering, he pops his collar lending forward, entering into your personal space. Close enough that you could smell the faint smell of melted butter. Feeling your face grow even more red, you try to pull control away from him.
"Yes, you're a very handsomely beautiful cookie.”
“Handsome and beautiful…”
He mumbled to himself, running a hand through his icy locks as his face flushed redder than the legendary red dragon scales. His eyes flicker towards you as behind all that blush a misfit glimmer shine through.
“For someone who blushes so easily, you're a natural at flirting.”
Before you could react, he steps closer, grabbing your waist and pulling your body against his. Doing so, using his other hand, he holds your jaw tinting upwards towards him. Even if he was in a flushed state, he was still easily able to take control of this flirtatious battle. Leaving you weak at his touch and his words.
“You're lying now?”
Barely getting words through, he tints his head down, letting a grin creep onto his lips.
“Why would I lie? Amore, I would never lie to the one who owns my heart.”
Royal Margarine comment affects where clear as it was your turn to be as bright as a tomato. Shell-shocked in your flushes, your mind didn't notice his thumb run across your bottom lip.
“Ah you did say I was doing you tonight? Well, your word is law, don't worry. I'll make sure it is a night to remember~”
₊✦Cookie Run: Kingdom | Shadow Milk Cookie x Gn!Reader | No spoilers!✦₊
While Shadow Milk Cookie swears up and down he doesn’t like cuddling or any kind of physical affection and won’t hesitate to go on about how disgusting they are, his actions say otherwise.
He always has to be touching you in some way, not usually kissing but his hands will be somewhere on your body; on your shoulder, waist, holding your hand, the likes. So it’s not too big of a surprise when he starts cuddling you in every opportunity he gets.
Usually he likes to grab you by the wrist and drag you right onto his lap — be it while he’s sitting or lying somewhere or while he’s lazily floating about — but sometimes he’ll be the one coming up to you to cuddle. It happens during times when he wants comfort even though he’ll never admit it out loud.
He’ll nestle into your side; oddly quiet if you’re also silent or keeping up his facade if you dare to even ask him what’s wrong. Physical touch is one thing that comforts him greatly, so he’ll find many different ways to have his dough be pressed against yours as he cuddles you. His favourite positions being ones where he’s sprawled on top of you, mostly because you can’t escape from him easily this way.
If it’s not too much trouble, could you please do a Drabble for Royal Margarine x Childhood friend!reader who used to tease/bully Royal Margarine about his fear of dragons when they were kids, but after the events of The Legend of The Red Dragon, reader is proud of Royal Margarine and gains some newfound respect for him?
Character: Royal Margarine
Word count: 700~
Warning: N/A good old fluff
A/N: Skipping order of the requests because dear God, I am at a huge road block on the request before this one.
Anyway, waiter more pathetic characters x Reader requests please this was quite fun, and writing this made me realize how fun Royal Margarine is as a character.
“No way!”
“Yes way.”
Brushing a hand through his icy locks, his lips curled into the biggest grin you have ever seen. Here, he was filling you in on the details you might have missed of the current gossip in the valley. Of course, the one time you were out, a major event just had to take place.
“Not only did you fought alongside the legendary Red Dragon, you defeated another one, and you got to meet the Ancient Hero of the Hollyberry Kingdom… Am I getting that right?”
“All right.”
Puffing out his chest there, he stood. Pride cover his features as he just took in your words. Just waiting for the moment your praises will finally come. You must be building up to it. Today will finally be the day he gets to hear your voice praise him. The one who he's been waiting to hear from all this time.
“Guess you gotten over you fear of dragons then?”
His lip twitches as his eyes fall onto your lips, watching how your mouth doesn't move once more. You didn't add any more words. There was no praise in your words, just a question. One that hung in the air that if he didn't answer, you would bug him for the rest of his life.
“Of course I have gotten over my fear-”
“Your hands are trembling.”
If he wasn't frowning before he was now. Why did you notice the small cracks in his image? Grasping his own hand, he held it in place, not trusting his own body to not shake. Physically he tried keeping the image he built up in place. He was a brave dragon rider but even after all this time, you still saw right through him. Knowing he was that young cookie who was terrified of dragons.
“I have mostly gotten over the fear just sometimes it comes back…”
Correcting himself he held his head high, not wishing to let you win. After all you must be teasing him even now that he is such a well accomplished cookie. You still treat him like the same boy you used to tease. The same one that ended up as your childhood friend, a friendship that remained when others didn't.
Maybe that is the reason he is not hurt that you're teasing him even now. After all, he doesn't have many people who would call him a friend.
“Everyone has fears... It is very brave that you can face yours.”
Rubbing the back of your neck, you mumbled your words, letting your eyes fall to the ground as you do so. When they return to him, he seems to be in a state of shock. Pale brown eyes widen as his baked dough seems to darken on his cheeks.
“Did I hear that right? You think I am brave?”
Straightening his back he quickly questioned your words, trying to see if this was a part of some prank you were about to pull on him. But as you nodded your head, he had to accept you mentioning your words. You thought he was brave. You were proud of what he did, and that made Royal Margarine quite a flushed mess.
“You're probably the bravest cookie I know. If I was in your place I doubt I would be able to do what you did.”
At your words if Royal Margarine wasn’t here at this moment, he might have believed he was dreaming. All these years of waiting, of imagining you saying praise to him had finally come true, and that might have broken the cookie in front of you. Trying to cover the goofy grin that appeared on his face, he popped his collar as his ego seemed to explode to a point of no return.
“I'm the bravest cookie there is! In fact they should call me Brave Margarine Cookie because I'm so brave.”
“Okay Mister, let's not go there now.”
Laughing at what he was doing, a smile formed on your lips. He only grins back, switching on the charm as he bounces off your words.
“Oh? Why not? I am the one and only Dragon Rider. One who is as brave as he is handsome. Next time you're in danger don't worry because Royal Margarine will come and save you. The one and only who is the bravest in these lands!”
As he boasted, you gave him a light punch in the shoulder. Even after all this time, he was the same cookie you knew. Just one who despite all the fakest in his image, had real courage to face something others could not. One you were glad to keep calling a friend.
