I keep getting ideas for fics but as y'all know I'm bad at keeping up with them, especially longer ones. However, between all of my ideas, I'm still curious which you might be interested in seeing, since I'm wondering if the support of others might help me decide on what's actually worth putting my time into. Therefore, I thought I'd share a few ideas/work in progress things and y'all can vote on which one you want to be real the most.
There will be a brief synopsis of each under the cut.
which sounds the most interesting to you?
Spice's Inferno
A Difficult Situation
Racing into the Darkside
Operation: Glimmer
Voting ended onMay 7
Spice's Inferno
A sequel to my fic Righteous Anger which takes place during the Beasts' time in the Grand Dust Hotel. Burning Spice experiences his first time truly alone since that night on the mountain, and the emotions set in a little too hard, resulting in a chain of events that burns some bridges... And rebuilds others?
A Difficult Situation
This would be the final part of my Creme Republic Smut series, taking place after the Espresseleine fic I'm writing and continuing the Clottcier arc from "On Your Patient Lips, To Eternal Bliss". Financier Cookie throws a little... *ahem* event for Clotted Cream Cookie on his birthday, but that night has some unforeseen consequences on Clotted Cream Cookie which threatens to reveal his secret relationship with his bodyguard to the entire Creme Republic... Including his father.
Racing Into the Darkside
A longer fic covering the aftermath of the war and the effects of Eternal Sugar's death on Hollyberry, as well as a new rarepair, Venom Dough x Hollyberry. Venom Dough appears to Hollyberry with a proposition- return to Beast Yeast to save Eternal Sugar's soul, in exchange for a home for their younger siblings. The two go on a grand journey with unlikely allies, until darker secrets slip out that result in disaster.
Operation: Glimmer
An action-packed prequel to the Golden City and Grand Cookie Games stories with no specific ships focusing on the Three Sisters' dynamics. A lucrative job comes in for the sisters from a mysterious benefactor in Beast Yeast- find the Soul Jam of Abundance in the Lost Golden City. The one issue? This is Pudding A La Mode Cookie's first mission, and she is not necessarily the best at what she does just yet.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: First Milk Cookie & Shadow Milk Cookie (Cookie Run)
Characters: Shadow Milk Cookie (Cookie Run), First Milk Cookie (Cookie Run)
Summary:
It truly was just them in the beginning.
The memory was fuzzy, edges blurred like an old photograph, but it was burned into his mind.
All he knew was warmth, the kind of heat that seeped comfortingly into his bones, lovingly hardening his dough into something stable. Sometimes he dreamed he was back there, in that warm place, not an idea in his head.
OR
Shadow Milk reminiscing about First Milk (and seeing her again!!!! :] ... :]? ...<:]? ....<:'[)
would anyone be willing to beta roughly 11k of cookie run fic for me?
cotton/caramel centric (the content itself is not romantic)
contains darkish themes, to a mild extent
it's the first two chapters of a fic that i have a lot of ideas for but don't necessarily think i can enjoy writing it if people don't want to ever read it, so i want to post it as it is in case people are interested
essentially i want to know what makes sense word-wise and world-wise
i changed tenses a couple different times so i just want to make sure there's consistency too lmao
loosely linked to my cryptish au. ie cotton is a vampire :3
My Treasure — Golden Cheese Cookie x Reader Fluff Drabble
- established relationship
- post Epilogue
- SPOILERS!
- reblogs recommended / appreciated
Where you came from, you were a humble cookie coming from humble beginnings. You wouldn’t consider yourself the best cookie in all of Earthbread.
So how did you, the humble cookie, end up becoming the lover of the magnificent and radiant Golden Cheese Cookie?
You were wandering the vast parmesan sand deserts. You don’t really remember why; but you were there, walking and walking. No clear destination either.
Just then, you came across a large canyon with a large number of cheesebirds surrounding the Ancient Hero. She noticed you, and you immediately caught her attention.
Your relationship seemed to blossom from there.
-
“Come forth, [Name] Cookie.” Golden Cheese Cookie declared. You gladly did, looking as Golden Cheese pat the spot next to her.
She immediately hugged you, embracing her arms around your frame.
“You know you’re my greatest treasure, yes? You’re worth much more than any of my riches.”
- 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.
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.
~~~
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
~~~
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.
