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thebiscuitlabryinth · 1 month ago

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(ep8 spoilers ahead)

Pure Vanilla's whole body aches.

He had tried to push through, really, he had, but the journey back to the Faerie Kingdom alone is long, let alone Crisipia. It didn't take long for the children to notice his sluggishness, and they insisted they find somewhere for Pure Vanilla to get some well-earned rest before they continue.

He can't be surprised by his exhaustion. Time in the Spire was a strange, nebulous thing, but however long he'd been there, he hadn't had any chance to rest, and he hadn't rested for a good while prior to setting foot in the Spire either. And all that wasn't even considering the exertion that his spar with Shadow Milk had required.

Pure Vanilla winces slightly, a bare twinge of guilt that he brushes past by turning his head against the pillow. They had found an abandoned old cottage, half buried under encroaching plants but fairly untouched inside. Pure Vanilla had helped dust the place off before Gingerbrave put his foot down and banished him to the bedroom. He can hear the children bickering amongst themselves through the wall now, and warmth sweeps through him along with that stubborn little flicker of guilt.

He's meant to be the adult here, but here they are, fussing over him. He's also meant to be sleeping right now, but he can't, no matter how hard he tries. Pure Vanilla's whole body aches like a fresh bruise, something deeper than exhaustion, and the mattress is uncomfortably hard beneath him.

It almost makes him miss his room in the Spire, which is a silly thought, because he barely spent any time in it. He was only able to sit down on the bed for a few moments before the children came knocking, but that had been enough for him to notice how the mattress was as soft as marshmallow, inviting him to sink into in like he sunk into the Yogurt River. He imagines it would be a balm for his pains now.

Even in his listless haze, he remembers being surprised by the effort put into the construction of that room. The care taken to replicate his bedroom in the Vanilla Kingdom, like a reflection of nostalgic comfort. It was thoughtful. Shadow Milk was thoughtful.

Pure Vanilla's thoughts have been full of Shadow Milk, too. They always circle back to him, fragmented into different, clashing tones. There's the horror, the anger, the maniacal cackling, the snarled threats, the barbed jeers, the glint of bared fangs and forked tongue, the children struggling in his grasp, the distress, the despair, the sensation of falling from the top of the Spire for forever and for a second, down, down, down, down.

But- but there's also always, eventually, the snatches of something past the veil of dark and malice. The room, the almost patient way he taught him about the cards, his half-lidded eyes over the game boards, the genuine joy that overflowed out of him, bubbling up like he couldn't contain it. The warmth as Shadow Milk had cupped his face between his palms, noticeably careful with his claws against his cold cheeks. The warmth as he repeated again in a softer hiss, almost a reverent whisper, "Now, you are mine," before pressing their foreheads and Soul Jams together.

The frustration always tumbles into fondness, and the fondness always leaks into the frustration. At this point, Pure Vanilla is certain the merging of the two is creating a new emotion entirely, but he isn't sure what it is, even though he's become quite the expert in merging.

Pure Vanilla's whole body aches.

The guilt hasn't quite subsided yet. In fact, it only continues to curl gently in the pit of his stomach, switching targets with every shift in topic his thoughts take. He thinks, maybe, he should have tried a little harder to stop Shadow Milk when he made his escape from the Spire, or said something slightly different. Perhaps, if he had, Shadow Milk would believe that his kindness was backed by determination, that the offer of friendship wasn't simply a whim of the moment.

But there is nothing to be done about it now. The past is the past, Pure Vanilla is far too familiar with that fact, and no Cookie can live without making a few mistakes. All he can do is accept it, let it breathe and move forward.

Pure Vanilla exhales, laying a hand on his Soul Jam. It pulses faintly beneath his fingers, and the familiar hum grounds him as he focuses his attention elsewhere, away from the hard mattress and the little cottage and the children's muffled chattering. He splits his consciousness in two, peeling away from reality as he wraps himself in his other-realm.

It's a new development, but wielding it is as easy as breathing, like an extension of himself. The bright white that greets him might be blinding to most, but to him, it is welcoming and soothing. Slowly, he blinks dozens of golden eyes open, bracing for some disorientation but pleasantly surprised when there is none.

Instinctively, Pure Vanilla searches for Shadow Milk within the space, because up until now, he has only used it in his presence. Even though he knows better than to really expect it, he is still slightly disappointed when all he sees is white and gold, unrolling smoothly and peacefully outward.

Somewhere in the distant nowhere, and in the immediate everywhere, Pure Vanilla's whole body aches.

Still, he stretches himself thin across the other-realm, the sensation of his dubious tangibility strange and perfectly natural. He nudges against the wobbly, not quite real edges of the space, feeling along the fuzzy lines in an attempt to find Shadow Milk's other-realm.

He knows the two are connected, because he was only able to discover his other-realm through Shadow Milk's. Technically, it had been a single other-realm then, woven by their joint power, but the emotional fallout of the confrontation that followed had forcibly seperated them. There must still be a lingering connection, some way for him to reach him.

And yet, Pure Vanilla cannot find a single trace of that energy he knows so intimately now, dark and cool and slithering. There is no evidence of the other-realm's other half anywhere - Shadow Milk must have closed it off from him, antsy that he would try something like this. It makes it feel like Pure Vanilla really is alone here, drifting in the glittering waves.

Pure Vanilla wouldn't exactly say that he misses it, but there is a certain nostalgia when he thinks back on his memory of Shadow Milk's other-realm. The weightlessness, the relaxing chill, the suffocating pressure in the air, tightening around him, made to confine, made to protect. Shadow Milk had delighted in inviting him inside it, into something special for just the two of them. It seems the invitation has now been revoked.

Pure Vanilla's whole body aches.

Pure Vanilla could try and push through to Shadow Milk's other-realm anyway. He has the ability to try, at least, with the power he has now unlocked, to pull at the stitches that keep Shadow Milk's other-realm sealed and see what happens.

Pure Vanilla doesn't. He decides to give Shadow Milk his space - it might have been for the best that he didn't try too hard to stop him back at the Spire, after all. He doubts Shadow Milk would have taken kindly to it then, and he probably wouldn't take kindly to it now, not yet.

Settled by the thought, Pure Vanilla closes a dozen golden eyes and blinks back into reality. The hard mattress and the little cottage and the muffled sound of shuffling through the wall. He wonders what the children are doing out there.

Pure Vanilla's whole body aches.

This mattress isn't helping and neither is his inability to sleep, but he thinks very little would actually help. Despite his strengthened power, any attempt to heal himself with his light had done nothing, since the problem isn't physical. Exhaustion worsens the feeling, but it isn't the core of the issue either.

Pure Vanilla's whole body aches, and he knows why.

Pure Vanilla has never felt like he was incomplete or lesser, but in the instant when he and Shadow Milk merged souls, he had suddenly felt like More. More than himself. Like something he hadn't even known was missing slotted into place, bringing sweet relief.

For the first few moments, it had been nothing but an overwhelming bliss, his cunning plan stuttering away with his thoughts under the tide of rightness. Shadow Milk's dark and cool and slithering energy intertwined with his, spilling into each other, trading components like they were old friends that couldn't share everything that had happened since they last saw each other fast enough. In a way, that was what the Soul Jam was. What they were.

It was in the middle of this dizzying exchange that Pure Vanilla had caught that tiny drop of longing buried deep within the twisted rush of the rest of Shadow Milk. It was familiar, so familiar that Pure Vanilla almost mistook it for his own, but no, it was far older than his. Far older than him. It was bitter and crystallised into a hard, jagged thing, warped by the malice of the rest of him.

He had immediately wanted to reach for it, pull it out from where it was lodged, but that was when they had parted, just enough to come back to their own bodies. Souls are abstract things rather than physical, so it wouldn't have worked anyway.

Their power was blended into one, buzzing as a near tangible connection between the two of them, and it was so, so warm. No, maybe not warm as it would be defined as temperature. It was...comfortable. The sensation of being embraced lingered even though Shadow Milk had pulled away, like their souls had remained moulded together despite their physical distance.

Until they hadn't. Until the connection snapped, leaving a ravenous ache behind.

Pure Vanilla isn't actually sure who it was that caused it. He hadn't been meaning to sever it entirely, because he still wanted to fish out that frozen loneliness, but he could have done it accidentally. Shadow Milk could have done it in the flare of his anger, ripping it apart with his growling teeth. Maybe they were both partially responsible, pulling at both ends until it broke. Whatever the case, it leaves him like this.

Pure Vanilla's whole body aches.

Pure Vanilla is no stranger to loss, and so he is no stranger to longing. It has lived in his heart for most of his life, sneaking in one day as he watched White Lily's back grow smaller and smaller, unsure of what he could do to make her stay, unsure if he should do anything. It is a thing that mutates and grows with every loss he collects, sometimes lying dormant but inevitably rearing its head once more. He is used to the feeling of it, the tender ache that follows him.

This, though, is new and different, incomparable to anything else. It is not a longing of the heart. It is a longing of the soul, engulfing his heart and his head and his body along with it. It is almost unbearable, an absence felt so strongly it is like half of him is gone. Half of him is gone.

Half of him is gone.

It had been fine when Pure Vanilla hadn't known any differently, but now that he has experienced being More, that missing piece is stark and unavoidably painful. And Shadow Milk has been carrying this burden for far, far longer than he has, for thousands and thousands of years. From the moment his Soul Jam was broken down by the Witches.

It's no wonder he's so resentful. Pure Vanilla has barely nursed this ache for a few hours, at most, and it is already agonising. He cannot imagine nursing it for what seems like a stagnant eternity, with no hope of alleviating it.

No, Pure Vanilla would never have been driven by this ache to do the things Shadow Milk has done, but he can sympathise with it. He can understand it.

Of course he can. He's the only one who can, because now it is not only Shadow Milk's ache. It is theirs. It has always been theirs, even when Pure Vanilla was unaware of it.

Pure Vanilla sighs shakily, fingers idly tracing the smooth surface of his Soul Jam. Its pulsing rhythm syncs with his careful breaths. He shifts, grasping it and gently pressing it closer to his chest, as if that could somehow help alleviate the ache.

It doesn't. He knows what would, he knows who would, but he isn't here.

It's alright though, he tells himself. They will see each other again soon. Shadow Milk promised it, and even if he hadn't, they would have been drawn back together eventually. This feeling is proof of that.

And when they finally meet again, Pure Vanilla can reach out for him again, and keep reaching out until Shadow Milk believes him when he says he understands. Until Shadow Milk sees his sincerity. Until Shadow Milk takes his hand.

Then, and only then, they can become More again. Not a Beast of Deceit. Not an Ancient Hero of Truth. Just the two of them, together, a fragmented Soul Jam of Knowledge made whole.

Pure Vanilla's whole body is warm, chest bubbly like soda.

He knows it won't be easy. Shadow Milk is lonely, but he is also not good, not as he is now. He is prideful, arrogant, controlling, sadistic and cruel. Pure Vanilla knows all that first hand. Friendship will not fix everything, but it is a good starting point.

Besides, he feels like he owes it to Shadow Milk to try. Or, rather, he owes it to himself.

His desire to befriend Shadow Milk is mostly out of kindness and partly out of selfishness, he is self-aware enough to admit that. In doing this, he is proving a point against Shadow Milk's cynical philosophy, and he is ridding himself of this soul-deep feeling. As long as he can convince Shadow Milk to give him a chance, to stay, then neither of them will ever have to feel this way again.

Pure Vanilla's whole body aches with warmth.

He is pulled from his drifting thoughts by shouting in the other room, followed by an audible squeak and a loud crash. Pure Vanilla sits up in the bed in alarm, already leaning over to the cabinet to reach for his staff, even though he was supposed to be asleep. If he was, that certainly would have woken him, anyway.

"What was that crash?" He calls, concern thick on his tongue. "Gingerbrave? Wizard? Strawberry?"

"Nothing, nothing!" Gingerbrave replies, with a yelp to his voice that makes his words very unconvincing. There's a scuffle in the next room, before loud footsteps hurry over to the bedroom and the door opens, Gingerbrave standing in the opening. His grin is sheepish. "We were just trying to get a book from the top of the bookshelf, but we were all too short."

"I could have gotten it with a spell, if you'd given me any time at all to think before you tried to lift me on your shoulders, you brute!" Wizard berates him, marching up from behind to wack him on the head with his Candy Wand. Little sparks of lightning buzz out, and Gingerbrave yelps again at the harmless shock, turning around with a petulant frown.

Before the two can inevitably start arguing, Strawberry pops up between them, fidding with her sleeves as she looks at Pure Vanilla with worried eyes. "Um, we didn't wake you, did we?"

Gingerbrave jolts up at that, whipping back around to face Pure Vanilla with a guilty look. "Ah, shoot, that's right! Sorry, Pure Vanilla, we didn't mean to be so loud."

"We wouldn't have been so loud if you hadn't acted stupidly." Wizard grumbles at him, but the way his shoulders hunch give away the fact that he feels bad about it too. Gingerbrave spares him a pout, and Pure Vanila chuckles, endeared by his children as always.

"No, no, there's nothing to apologise for." He reassures them. "I was just waking up, anyway."

A simple little white lie, just to keep them from unnecessary worrying. Another gentle chuckle, quieter, swept away by his breath – Shadow Milk should be proud of him.

The children, at least, instantly ease. Pure Vanilla continues, shifting to get out of bed, staff in hand. "How about you three take a turn of the bed and have a nap? You haven't had a good opportunity to rest either."

The children blink at him, exchanging some silent glances as if communicating telepathically. Eventually, Wizard pipes up, "Well, it would be nice, but are you sure, Pure Vanilla? You haven't been asleep for all that long."

"Yeah, do you feel any better now?" Gingerbrave tacks on, placing his hands on his hips, trying to put on a stern face.

Pure Vanilla smiles, fondness filling him once more at their blatant care for him as he softly replies, "I do, I promise."

For every lie there is a truth, like how a coin has a heads and a tails. So Pure Vanilla means it when he says that, flipping the coin of his white lie to a sincere truth.

He does feel better.

Pure Vanilla's whole body still aches, but it has lessened slightly at the reminder of their inevitable next encounter and the opportunities that come with it, almost as if relieved.

#celebrating valentine's day by going back to my roots: writing pv as the yearningest yearner to ever yearn #this is kind of a companion piece to the smilk ep8 aftermath fic #i just feel like merging souls with someone would have a profound impact on you. idk i've never personally done it before #shadowvanilla #vanilla milkshake #pureshadow #pure vanilla cookie #the biscuit library

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hayaku14 · 4 months ago

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pushing daisies kaishin au #2

pushing daisies au where shinichi has been able to revive dead animals, plants, even people since he was a child.

kudou "i can literally talk to the dead" shinichi

shinichi's parents didn’t exactly encouraged him to use this power. especially not in public. they’ve seen him revive and re-kill dead plants and animals in the same breath, it doesn’t take a detective to figure out what could happen near a human corpse.

but a young shinichi is curious, a young shinichi admired his father, and a young shinichi wanted to prove himself a detective. but most of all, a young shinichi wanted to help.

so when he saw his father struggle in solving a particular case, a young shinichi figured that maybe asking straight from the source would help give them a hint.

the complete horror in yusaku's eyes shinichi saw that day made him promise himself to never do it again.

shinichi realizes later on that reviving someone just for a clue on the whos, hows, and whys of their death only to touch them again, to basically kill them again, is sick and twisted and the realization leaves him feeling raw and dirty.

he then decides that if he’s gonna find out the truth, if he’s gonna bring justice, it’s not by making the victims suffer a second death. he will unravel the mystery not by magic but by logic.

the curious case of kuroba kaito

hakuba immediately contacts shinichi.

“he was...a friend. if i have to gather all the best detectives to catch his murderer then so be it.”

hakuba goes on to explain.

it was a kid heist. shots were fired. snipers. kaitou kid was caught on camera falling, as if he’d been shot, but he appears a minute later flying away on his glider with not a speck of blood on his suit. all should be well however, a few buildings away in an alleyway, the body of kuroba kaito is found dead. gunshots through the heart and chest.

a simple explanation would’ve been that the glider was a fake activated by kid’s assistant as a last ditch effort to save his legacy and this kuroba kaito was kaitou kid himself. he would’ve said it out loud but by the look on hakuba’s face, he can tell that he already connected those dots long before shinichi even stepped foot in the morgue. that wasn’t what hakuba called him for.

“can i...take a look at the body alone?”

hakuba raises an eye at him but moves to leave without questioning. "alright then. i have to check on another friend anyway. she's been...distraught ever since she heard the news and..." hakuba's words trail away as his eyes unconsciously drifted towards kuroba kaito's covered body. shinichi patiently waits through the quiet pain that he sees on hakuba. the pinch in his brows, the tenseness of his body. he must've been a really good friend.

hakuba shakes his head and turns his attention back to shinichi. "sorry, i...its been a long day. i'll leave you here then. call me if you find anything."

left alone, shinichi carefully zips open the body bag covering kaitou kid's upper body. he looked eerily similar to himself and imagining his own body cold and dead in the morgue sent a shiver down his spine. shaking his head, he pulls a chair close and reads through the file hakuba brought him.

"no witnesses. no camera. not a trace nor lead to anything. just some reports on mysterious gunshots in previous heists that lead to nowhere." they were professionals, whoever did this, shinichi thought. it was not going to be an easy case.

he takes another peek at the body. so this was kaitou kid, huh. too young to be the same as the one before his hiatus. perhaps a successor? motive could be related to his predecessor. his mother hasn't said anything of interest. does she really not know or is she protecting him? he runs his hand through his hair. there's too little information to go on...unless...

temptation rears its head. the source of information is right there in front of him. one touch and it could open up new leads to the case. an immediate disgust twists deep into his gut. he promised himself to never use it on people. to never kill. his father's haunted eyes embedded in his mind. he shouldn't. he really shouldn't. but he remembers the anguished look on hakuba's face. if he was going to do it, this might be the only good time. any longer and his touch would not revive kid. and gone along with him would be vital information to catch his murderer.

shinichi heaves a deep sigh. he has never used his abilities on dead people since that one incident as a child but he couldn't shake off the look on hakuba's face. it was now or never. shinichi reaches for kid's hand.

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pushing daisies au #1

#kaishin #detective conan #dcmk #dc prattles #shinichi: don't panic #kaito: *remembers what happened* WHAT THE FUCK #lol #also in this au the someone dies after a minute if he doesn't touch the dead person a second time again rule applies #shinichi has never discovered this fact growing up because he never really truly tried to explore this ability #perhaps he himself is freaked out by it and ever since the day he saw fear and the haunted look in yusaku's eyes #he never wanted to revisit it ever again #shinichi would probably connect the dots a little later but #the commotion of someone just dropping dead out of nowhere outside the morgue would be what he & kaito would use as a distraction to escape #shinichi was supposedly only going to ask a few questions and touch kaito again but ofc kaito would attempt to escape immediately #anyway something something pandora revives kaito back permanently so he and shinichi can kiss and make out the end #LMAOOOOO #thank you pandora for being a convenient deus ex machina mwah now kaishin can have plenty a sexy times :>#if you saw me accidentally posting this earlier no you didnt #also i never intended for this to be long or written like this #it was supposed to be a bulletpoint list of hcs but it got out of hand unfortunately LOL #finally out of the drafts after almost 2 years im so sorry this au lmao #there's one last pushing daisies kaishin au in the drafts yippee :D

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