13 Bookmarks by FluffDependent
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Summary
What happens when the Pure Vanilla is faced with emotional baggage – the kind that he can't just hide with a composed mask?
What happens when Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla must switch their usual dynamic, if even for just a moment, for the ancient hero to feel hope?
OR: Shadow Milk notices Pure Vanilla acting weird, and he eventually finds out what's wrong.
Series
- Part 13 of Crk Oneshots
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
05 Mar 2026
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Summary
Eventually Pure Vanilla’s voice softened further. “And there’s the mistletoe, of course. People hang little sprigs of it above doorways or arches. If two people stand beneath it together…”
This caught Shadow Milk’s attention, his gaze drifted upward. Above their bench, woven into the lantern-lit arch, hung a small bunch of dark green leaves and white berries, tied with red ribbon.
In all light, he had noticed it there from the start, but he figured it was more decoration people did for the Festa. He didn’t think it held any more value other than that.
He pointed, questioning. “Like that?”
Pure Vanilla’s eyes went wide, it must have been his first time noticing it there. He looked quickly back at Shadow Milk, cheeks coloring deeply. “Yes. Exactly like that.”
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Shadow Milk gets saved by Pure Vanilla from a trap and end up being brought back to his cabin. This results in him having to hide the being he truly is.
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
26 Feb 2026
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The room is too bright.
It’s quaint, in a nauseating sort of way. Polished floors glint from the gleaming honeycomb chandeliers overhead, make him squint. A few vases sprinkled here and there, filling the room with a sickeningly sweet scent – even a waffle-cone headrest framing the silken sheets of a neatly-tucked bed. Outside, the golden sun gleams, the gentle rays of light spilling past curtains that waver in the afternoon breeze.
It's meant to be beautiful. Luxurious. Welcoming.
With one sweep of his cane, Shadow Milk tears it apart.
[[ Completed ]]
Series
- Part 1 of Jamma Jambound's SDVN works
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 203,396
- Chapters:
- 32/32
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 13,428
- Kudos:
- 40,514
- Bookmarks:
- 4,144
- Hits:
- 1,108,937
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
26 Feb 2026
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“Shadow Milk Cookie, I appreciate all your letters, but I cannot possibly respond to so many at once. I would also like to ask that you stop growing carnivorous roses in the royal garden, as they are starting to grow a craving for Gardener Cookie.”
Or: Shadow Milk Cookie quickly discovers that being over the top and theatrical about his feelings for Pure Vanilla Cookie is the best way to avoid genuinely delving into them.
Series
- Part 2 of the absolute truth, and nothing less
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
26 Feb 2026
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Summary
Squished between two apartment complexes, towered over by neighboring stores in the area, existed a humble flower shop named 'Vanilla's Orchids.' Of course, this stop didn't just sell orchids; a variety of flowers bloomed within the shop, meticulously cared for by the shop's owner- one Pure Vanilla.
Day in and day out, Pure Vanilla would be found at the front desk waiting to help a customer in need. Customers have noted that they have never seen the man take a break- only ducking into the back to replace bundles of flowers that had been purchased. And yet, he always seemed to be happy. His smile never wilted, and he would hum as he swept the floors of dirt and debris.
No one knew the man other than the fact that he loved his job.
And then, one day, there was a blue bird on his desk- bundled up in soft blankets and resting under a heated lamp.
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or, Pure Vanilla is the owner of a flower store, and is accompanied by a dramatic bird demon named Shadow Milk- and he couldn't be happier.
Series
- Part 20 of Tired Tina's PVSM Fics
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
26 Feb 2026
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Summary
Life came into existence when the first stars, bundles of condensed and reactive gas, burst forth the foundations of existence throughout the entire solar system.
When their first creation died, Death came into existence to cradle them in a gentle embrace. A kindness that Death believed was necessary, as Life itself could be cruel, and those passing deserve to feel safe in the end.
Forever intertwined, forever apart.
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or, Shadow Milk is the God of Life, and Pure Vanilla is the God of Death. They can never touch, but they make it work.
Series
- Part 19 of Tired Tina's PVSM Fics
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
26 Feb 2026
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Summary
Wide eyes gazed up from the floor, the same lashes, the same shape, the same shine… but a different person. Minutes prior Pure Vanilla fought with a reluctant jester to seal Earthbread’s destroyer, and now a regal king sat with folded robes in the spot Shadow Milk had just been in, picking up the glowing crystal and placing it into a clover shaped hole in his staff.
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.
.
Was this the Fount of Knowledge?Series
- Part 1 of Vanilla Orchids
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
27 Feb 2026
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For a breath, Pure Vanilla can only stare- before he finally cocks his head to the side and says, “Pardon?”
Shadow Milk’s smile falters, and he rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on,” he drawls. “I knew you weren’t the brightest, but come on. Shouldn’t you be happy to see me like this?” He grins once more, giving a wide flourish of his arms. “Just as foolish and content as-“ One hand sweeps forward, jabbing a finger sharply into Pure Vanilla’s chest. “You!”
Pure Vanilla grunts, momentarily wobbling before he pushes himself to his feet with the assistance of his staff. “I… No, yes, I gathered that you were mocking me—“
“Who isn’t?” Shadow Milk cuts in.
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or: PVC furthers his efforts at befriending his other half, while SMC shapeshifts into anyone but himself in efforts to avoid emotional vulnerability.
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
27 Feb 2026
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Summary
"I won’t make a deal,” Pure Vanilla says, plain and simple. “Not unless I understand every word of it. Not unless I believe it fair. And not if the price is someone else’s pain.”
“You dare to set your terms,” The fae murmurs, his voice no longer playful. No longer velvet. It is frost now, delicate and sharp enough to flay skin. “You sit in my ring, in my garden, and you deny me?”
Pure Vanilla meets his gaze, calm and clear. “Yes.”
The fae snarls.
“I could kill you,” the fae whispers. “Slit you open like a fruit. Spill your mortal heat onto my garden and let the flowers drink your heart."
“You could,” Vanilla agrees mildly. “But I’m told human meat is stringy, and frankly, I’m not sure I’d make a good stew.” He takes another small bite of rice, chews serenely. “Besides, isn’t that just a myth? You lot eating people.”
“You’re testing me,” The fae snaps. “I should curse your tongue to rot in your mouth. I should blight your precious village until even the stones forget your names.”
“Can’t,” Vanilla says lightly, tapping the side of his riceball with one finger. “You’d need my true name. And I’m fairly certain you don’t have it.”
The fae curses.
Series
- Part 2 of My Cookie Works
- Part 1 of Pureshadow fae au
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 13,171
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Comments:
- 125
- Kudos:
- 1,543
- Bookmarks:
- 317
- Hits:
- 13,178
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
27 Feb 2026
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Shadow Milk Cookie lunges, fury incarnate, but Pure Vanilla is ready. He doesn’t raise his staff. Doesn’t cast. Doesn’t defend.
He simply steps forward. And wraps his arms around him. Not in battle.
In embrace.
Shadow Milk freezes. His forehead presses to Pure Vanilla’s collarbone. Not gently. Not willingly. But needfully.
“Don’t say you forgive me,” he says, voice ruined. “Don’t you dare.”
“I’m not,” Pure Vanilla replies. “Not until you're ready to hear it.”
The candles crackle. The walls hum. But in the center of the room, something quiet unfolds.
Not peace. Not yet.
But the possibility of it.
And Shadow Milk Cookie—terrible and lonely and terribly alive—lets himself be held. Just for a moment. Just until the trembling stops.
How cruel, then, how unthinkably cruel, that this moment must end.
Because in three months’ time, he will be nothing.
In three months’ time, his name will be only used in past tense.
And Pure Vanilla Cookie will stand alone beneath the candied stars, cradling a broken body.
Just to do it all over again.
Series
- Part 1 of My Cookie Works
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
27 Feb 2026
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Shadow Milk had felt it, even then—the doubt. Buried deep, but still present. Like a line of tension held behind the heart.
Pure Vanilla had feared for the world. Shadow Milk had tasted that fear in his pulse, smelled it in the way his body tensed before the end. He had wondered—of course he had—what would become of everything once the Light of Knowledge returned to its rightful God.
Wondered if ruin would follow. If blood would fall like rain.
And maybe, in another world, he would have acted on that fear.
Maybe, in a world where fake kindness didn't lull him into selfishness, where the promise of rest didn't make him yearn, where his God’s claws didn't feel as comforting… he would have asked.
(“What… will you do with your power back?”)
Maybe he would have spoken.
Maybe he would have fought.
But not in this one.
Not in the world where Shadow Milk’s palm cradled him like a shrine.
Not in the moment where his head was gently stroked by a claw that could tear through mountains.
In this world, he was selfish.
Series
- Part 2 of Deceit's Sacrificial Lamb Works
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
27 Feb 2026
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Summary
“You dressed up for me, didn’t you?”
The prince flushed instantly—cheeks warm, ears turning red beneath the fall of gold in his hair.
“I—I did not,” he managed, far too quickly.
The stranger froze.
Only for a blink. A breath.
And then—He howled. A laugh tore from his chest—loud and wild. Not the sly little chuckle he usually exhaled, but something full-bodied and absolutely delighted.
“You—you actually did!” he gasped, clutching his stomach as if the absurdity physically hurt him. “Oh, witches, I was only teasing! I didn’t think—oh, you dumb, dumb prince!”
Pure Vanilla, still very much crimson-faced, crossed his arms lightly, trying—and failing—not to let the corner of his mouth twitch.
“I did not dress up for you,” he repeated, softer this time.
The thief wiped the corner of his eye, breath hitching between the remains of his laughter. “Oh, please, don’t lie to me now, little prince. I’m already touched.” He sat up straighter, juggling his half-eaten apple as if he was a jester in mid act. “You waltzed into the woods looking almost like a bride, I mean! Witches! You’ve got enough metal on you to ransom a kingdom!"
Series
- Part 6 of My Cookie Works
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
27 Feb 2026
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Summary
The God of Deceit was once a god who danced through truth like a flame through old parchment—destructive, beautiful, inevitable. But that was before the fae turned their backs. Before they bound him in this tree, with chains etched in runes that gnawed through flesh and soul alike.
Now he is stillness. Now he is silence. Now he is Shadow Milk—the god no one remembers, watching the world like a man at the bottom of a well watches the light too far above to reach.
And so he waits.
Through the thin membrane of reality, where the veil is weakest, he sees the world. He sees the golden fields stretching in humble simplicity, dotted with the flicker of sheep. He sees the hill, where wildflowers bloom with such audacity they seem to challenge the sky.
And there, in the middle of it all—white as a breath, still as a prayer—is the shepherd. Pure Vanilla.
...
Pure Vanilla thinks of his flock as he dies. He thinks of Dandelion. He thinks of warm bread and honey. Of sun on his face. Of the feeling of grass beneath his feet.
Death is not merciful, it is not quick.
The shepherd bleeds, and The God of Deceit does not intervene.
Series
- Part 4 of My Cookie Works
- Part 1 of Deceit's Sacrificial Lamb Works
Bookmarked by FluffDependent
27 Feb 2026