Chapter Text
Whiteout Cookie sighed, looking at their body in their mirror. They picked at their dough, focusing on their face.
It represented no cookie they'd every known or heard of.
For cookiekind's sake—they only knew where they came from because Chili Pepper, Custard, and Cream had mentioned it a few times.
And they didn't even get any answers when they asked.
They scrunched their face, staring at it.
Why did they hate their body so much?
Sure, they were fine with being a cookie. They didn't want to be anything else...
But they were just that—
A cookie.
No magic or special abilities.
A normal dough.
A normal everything.
They were just a cookie.
...
Well, they DID grow fast as hell for some reason.
But that wasn't really a power.
It happened naturally.
They were baked like that.
...
They think.
They don't remember any witches from when they were first made.
Only a giant explosion, then seeing GingerBrave, Wizard Cookie, and Strawberry Cookie for the first time.
They somehow still remembered that their dough had hurt a ton at the time, explosion and all.
Sometimes, they wished they could remember what happened before that.
Just to see one glimpse of who or what created them—
Or what they were created for.
...
...
...
But alas,
They couldn't.
They never could.
Not unless...
KNOCK!
Whiteout was startled out of their thoughts at the sudden noise.
"Little bu—" Cream Ferret cut themselves off. "Sorry, Whiteout Cookie! Are you okay?" They called through the door as they continued to gently knock on it. "You've been in there for quite some time!"
"U-uh—" They only now just released the pain they were feeling in their arms, as well as the red jam actively dripping like a river.
'Damnit.' They thought.
"Y-yeah! I'm fine, Cream! Don't worry, I'll be out soon!" Whiteout Cookie finally called back, rushing to grab something—anything—to dab at the jam rushing down their arms.
"Alright, just... Call me if you need anything, okay?"
"I will, I will. You know that." Whiteout responded, bandaging their dough so they didn't have any problems.
They really needed to stop picking at their dough mindlessly until jam spilled.
Whiteout Cookie sighed once more and put their jacket with the over-sized sleeves on again, the sleeves passing their hands buy atleast...
Dang—what could they compare it to?
A jelly? Good enough.
They were honestly so grateful to have clothes like this.
Sighing, they left their room and followed Cream Ferret, zoning out and accidentally ignoring whatever they were saying.
They knew who they had to talk to tonight.
C—
"Whiteout Cookie?"
"Hm?—Y-yeah? What is it, Cream?"
"...You weren't listening, were you?"
"..."
...
"Sorry, Cream."