#daisyverse

Mfw I realize there’s a collection of popular/well-known PV AUs and Daisyverse is not one of them. This is unacceptable /lh

(For those who have read/made art for me, thank you all so much!!!)

It’s so hard to keep all these ideas to myself because if anyone’s read the first fic of the series they can clearly tell that I plan everything intricately and spend months/years working towards the payoff but the wait is excruciating and the urge to spoil is arghhdhhdh I must spoil something minor even if no one sees this because just because.

So, the the titles and a brief peak into chapters 7-9 of Shells and Ivory. 7. Annarasumanara: POV is Clotted and Light Cream :)

8. Red Strings of Fate: A character mentioned in Lily Flower is reintroduced

Chapter seven of Shells and Ivory is now here! Pls give it a look! We’ll be getting the perspectives of LCream, ClCream, and Affo!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39120108/chapters/97866888

Relationships: Platonic, Pure Vanilla & the Cookies of Darkness

Summary: Seeking the fleeting shadows of his old friend, Pure Vanilla joins the cookies of darkness. Unknown to him, they are a group of ragtag outcasts and damaged people, held together by mirrors and faded strings. His presence just happened to be the tipping point.

Everything begins to fall apart.

Excerpt (what you’ll be getting into):

This is the truth I had sought all along. The secret to life. 

The little girl dissolved in front of her eyes. She had been reaching out to White Lily as if the mage could save her.

On the shelf, a forgotten staff wilted. 

How utterly meaningless! 

White Lily had not felt the initial burn. She had been in shock, but it was only a second delay. The liquid seared against her skin, and she screamed, but more liquid entered her throat. She snapped her mouth shut, but resisting made no difference. Melting was inevitable. She watched as her legs boiled and crumbled into the mixture. Her vision seemed to flatten as part of her head joined the melting pot of the dead. 

But… 

What a pointless existence. She spent all her life learning the secrets of magic, but had yet to apply them. Her curiosity led to dissolve in the bottom of a witch’s cauldron. She will die alone, her life cut short. There was still so much in the world she wanted to do, so much to experience. She wanted to try one of Golden Cheese’s infamous baskets, lose in Hollyberry’s drinking competitions, join the Make Dark Cacao Laugh group. She wished to see Pure Vanilla again, his angelic smile and hidden mischievous streak. If only he were here with her. 

I want to live… 

The liquid tasted sweet. 

A monster rose from the primordial soup, far larger than any singular cookie. She was the amalgamation of all the lives tossed into the cauldron, warped half-living cookies consumed by a singular consciousness. 

The Dark Enchantress clawed her way out of the boiling liquid amidst gasps and cries. Witches screamed and fled as they were lifted off their feet by powerful magic, spells woven together from a lifetime of research. A dead staff flew into the monster’s grasp, useful beyond the grave. 

These are my gods? She sneered at the heaving, ugly creatures, as they screeched in an incomprehensible language. No, I don’t accept that. 

Plants broke through the ground, ensnaring witches and plunging roots through them, new life growing where they wasted space. Light and dark magic flooded the space, twisting in tandem, the cumulative reactions they caused with each other far stronger than they would be alone. Witches wailed as their bodies were replaced with sugar. Unable to sustain flesh and blood, the sugar crumbled and the witches crumbled with them. Cold, efficient magic stopped hearts and burst blood vessels. 

She threw her hand into the air. Normally, large crystals were catalysts for opening rifts in the world, but the dark enchantress was powerful to the point where tools did not matter. Magic crystallized at her will, dense enough to substitute. She waved and the crystals burst, opening doors to new possibilities. 

Creatures stuck within the burning fires of the ovens came through the rifts, ready to do her bidding. Cake monsters and summons crawled out of the depths of hell as she cackled. She flew above them, freer than she had ever been. 

The Dark Enchantress hated the truth. She hated the fact that she was born to be eaten, to die. She refused to accept her fate; this time, she will create her own truth and the world must bend to accommodate. 

Guilt no longer chained her down, starlight no longer haunted her every move. White Lily had finally given up, fading along with the scores of others in that cauldron. What monster took her place feared not the darkness, the forbidden nature of magic. What could compare to the horrible reality she had seen? 

The Dark Enchantress was worse than the fallen heroine’s nightmares. She embraced the darkness, for she was darkness itself. 

“Come, my monsters, my dear abominations!” she cried, pointing her dead staff at the fleeing creatures. “Tonight, we have a witch hunt!”