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It’s not the first time he’s woken himself up by screaming.
Not the type of scream that’s sudden.
Or the type that’s a gasp as you jolt up.
And it’s not the type of scream that you make when you seem your worst fear (like bugs or holes).
Sadly, his screams are akin to those who have experienced too much, and processed in such little time. Or did not process their trauma at all.
It’s not the first time he feels like his dough is on fire, his lungs tight as they struggle to gasp for air. It won’t be the last time his eyes are a spring of tears as the images of his dreams flash before his eyes with the haunting laughter of both family and foe echo in his ear. Nor will he ever be able to forget the hand that grasps onto his limbs like the undead desiring to drag you into their cold tomb.
No, this will not be the last time he’ll experience this.
But it’s the first for the other adult residents who are sleeping next door to him.
Wizard Cookie and Strawberry Cookie have long grown used to hearing him scream at night, it’s not a constant, but it still happens. Even on the best of nights, the ginger cookie will get a nightmare once and it would just lead him to jolting awake, scream ripping from his lips and suddenly full of energy, and that’s where he gets up and moves about for the day to distract his mind. A coping mechanism that is far better and healthier than the Ancient Heroes and Beasts with their coping mechanisms (they are getting… better-ish).
In all honesty, GingerBrave thought that he would’ve gotten over his nightmares by now. With the defeat of Dark Enchantress (again), with the Beasts being redeemed (two on are their way for redemption), and the Faerie Kingdom being restored to peace; he honestly thought that his nightmares would give him a break.
Apparently not.
Especially with the nightmare he just had.
The one that makes him feel the opposite of brave, the nightmare that makes him claw at his dough, the one that makes him second-guess himself in wonder if he truly deserves to live, the type of nightmare that paralyzes you no matter how hard your mind and body will force you to move and fight back.
That kind of nightmare scares him the most.
He’s been told by Strawberry and Wizard that the scream he makes when waking up from that nightmare is akin to a cookie dying. A wail mixed with an agonizing shriek of pain and desperation. A mixture of someone who knows too much and yet, cannot share the agony. The type of scream you never want to hear in a graveyard. The one scream that will make those hardened by war weep and mourn.
“It sounds painful.” He’s been told. That sentence would be told to him over and over, each time with the brows furrowed and lips down-turned. And truthfully, he doesn’t really feel any pain when he screams. All his pain is phantom-like, but yet, all the feelings in his mind feel too real. He feels his chest flare with his mind clouded, slowly coming clear. He needs to calm down before-
“I HAVE A FUCKING STAFF AND I WILL TAKE OUT YOUR YOUR KNEECAPS! JUST TRY IT!”
Before someone comes in-!!!
Shadow Milk Cookie stands in the door with his blueberry-eye staff in both hands like he’s about to come swinging at some enemy in the room. His hair frazzled with the eyes in his hair slit and narrowed with anger, versus the cookie eyes that were sharp and hungry for a kill. He was wearing his soft blue nightgown (that he made a pair for his lover and daughter) with blue slippers on his feet; he honestly looked like he rolled out of bed. Even his front curls were slightly askew.
Normally, had the hero of hope seen this- he would burst into giggles. Laugh it off.
But for some reason, it’s really hard to breathe. Like- really hard. It was hard to not see the former Beast in a light where the shadows around him are cold and cruel, the eyes are narrowed with an echo of a laugh full of animosity.
He felt paralyzed seeing the former Beast of Deceit standing in his doorway, standing in the entry of his room like a guest welcoming themselves into a home. Below the layers of panic and fresh images of cookie crumbs and screaming dough, GingerBrave felt honored that Shadow Milk Cookie would burst into a room to save him if something was wrong.
“GINGERBRAVE! WHAT HAPPENED!?” Pure Vanilla Cookie slid across the floor with his socks, holding his soft and fuzzy yellow robe over his shoulders as his vanilla-flower staff blinked wildly to survey the room, the staff glowing similar to a nightlight but yet, the eye of the flower was narrowed (like it was frowning). His long hair was frazzled and tangled, his eyes wide open like saucer plates with his eyes wildly searching the room for an enemy.
There were only a few instances in both the Beast’s and the Ancient Hero’s lives for them to hear a scream like what they were awoken too. They were used to stirring and waking up to their daughter wailing to be held or rocked back to sleep, they were used to waking up to explosions from Strawberry Crepe Cookie’s lab with Espresso Cookie shouting not too long after. But the scream they woke up too; it was a scream of a cookie worn away from horrible memories. The type of scream they personally know too well.
A type of scream that only the cookies from a war will ever make when deep in the throes of memories full of loss and grief, horror and fear.
When both adults were jolted awake by a scream next door, the first thought they had was “who was in the room?” They were quick to see that no one was in their room, so they swiftly deducted that it was the boy next door who was screaming. Shadow Milk was already out of bed and racing to the door, his staff emerging from the shadows and swirling in his hand as he yanked the doors open, causing a loud “CLAP” to echo in the room as Pure Vanilla grabbed his staff, his flower’s eye found the baby’s crib completely fine with the baby herself asleep as if the scream was nothing more than a tickle of the wind.
Now, while the sight of his daughter did reassure him that she was safe; the scream was echoing in his mind, bouncing off the walls of his brain as the alerted part of himself screamed to run after the former Beast. The scream came from the room next to them; the room where GingerBrave was sleeping.
Suddenly, the Hero of Truth wondered if the trio- Mold Dough Cookie, Venom Cookie, and Pom Pom Cookie- if they snuck in and were attacking the boy. Trying to take away the Soul Jam of Hope (as if the teen brought it with him. He always keeps it locked and tucked safely away from any eyes. Not even Shadow Milk Cookie knows where the teen hides his Soul Jam)((much to his chagrin)). GingerBrave tried to offer a hand of peace to the trio many, many times when he or his group encountered them, but the group disappeared before he could do anything more. And that’s not touching on what happened in the oven. With… them.
Pure Vanilla ran out the door, heart leaping into his throat as he conjured the quickest blinding spell to ward off the attackers if he truly did see someone in the boy’s room. Witches- if that hero so much has a crack on his body, he was going to murder someone-
But once the Hero was in the room, he found it completely dark. The only light was from himself with his staff and Shadow Milk Cookie in a stance one would akin to a cookie getting ready to tackle a foe on sight. There was no one in the room. The curtains were drawn, the nightstand was intact, the room was clean- minus GingerBrave’s iconic candy cane sitting on the chair in the corner of the room with his boots under the chair; everything was normal.
Until the healer’s eyes settled on the bed.
The white-haired boy was gripping onto his chest, heaving with his breath rasping, and his form shaking. Surely, the scream… it didn’t come from him… Did it?
“GingerBrave?” Pure Vanilla inquired, stepping past his lover who surveyed the room with less enthusiasm to kill, and more in confusion. He found the boy panting, forehead heavy with sweat and eyes wide and wild. Pinned off the two cookies in his room. The hero felt a sense of dread fall onto his shoulders, a pit of guilt yawned in his gut as he approached the bed, his hand that once clutched the opening of his robe was now coming forward to rest his hand on the teen’s shoulder, “Ginger-”
He’s never experienced the wild and untamable fear that was etched so deeply into the ocean blues.
“GET BACK!” The boy shouted as he flung himself back, his voice raspy with his throat tight. He felt like he was going to suffocate, with his hands gripping the front of his nightshirt and his ears were ringing. He can hear Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk but there was a buzz hovering over him. It hurts to listen to it. It sounds like the metal scraping against the rough edge of rocks- spraying sparks of fire, and light crossing his vision as his legs ache with a familiar ache that he has tried to soothe over but it always ends with his legs aching.
He can barely see through the shaking eyeline, the blurred figure of Pure Vanilla stands in the light like an angel in his room, trying to soothe his nerves. And he knows that he’s there to calm him, to soothe him- but yet, all he sees is the look of anger.
All he sees is a look of pure disappointment and the cold feeling of metal bars pressed against his dough.
Oh, how Pure Vanilla Cookie looked so angry when he tried to reach out to him. To ask if he was okay. If he was feeling alright, since he wasn’t appearing for meetings and hiding off more in his room. He had reached out to tug on the man’s cape, but when the cookie swung around; the look of fury that crossed over the usually-calm healer’s face shocked the ginger cookie as the hero spat venomous words. Words that cut deeply into his heart, a bridge of trust suddenly dissolving at the support beams as the hero turns away and leaves him to tear-up and wonder if he had done something wrong.
Had he done something to deserve the anger that was shot at him?
Even when the Beast of Deceit offered to “talk” to the hero, it did nothing when the hero of light turned against his allies and corrupted himself in the name of eternal peace.
Feeling his power swarm over him felt wrong.
GingerBrave knows Pure Vanilla’s healing powers, it was like a warm blanket that was softly tucked around his shoulders with his hands warmed by a fire or a mug of tea. He always found Pure Vanilla’s warmth better than any fireplace or blanket. Custard the Third Cookie’s magic was something similar but not as warm nor strong as Pure Vanilla’s. So when he and his friends went to confront and help Pure Vanilla, to watch him wave his arm and a feeling of warmth wash over him, the warmth that he had grown used to and learn to associate with love and protection-
It felt wrong.
He hated the feeling of Pure Vanilla’s magic when he held the power of the Five Soul Jams. He hated it. He hated how it tightly gripped his arms, how it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard to push and struggle. He was being suffocated by the warmth and he started to hurt. It hurt to move, to push against the strongest magic that he couldn’t get out of.
When trapped in the “dream-like state”, he would distantly hear the call of Hope. The Soul Jam of Hope was thankfully unfound by Pure Vanilla Cookie but that didn’t stop the voice from the gemstone to reach out to GingerBrave to encourage him with the hope to break free and bring clarity to the hero. To feel two waves of powerful magic rage in his mind and soul, it exhausted him. He was so tired of feeling both powers fight and tug him around, like a doll being flung around. He was so tired of it all.
So when he was broken free with Strawberry Cookie and Wizard Cookie, all he wanted to do was collapse and sleep. Stop moving. Stop breathing. But Mystic Flour Cookie, with her newfound powers, wrapped a soft spell over his body to protect him in case Pure Vanilla Cookie tries to capture anyone again. He wanted to feel the warmth of Pure Vanilla’s magic again. To remember the good times when the healer would follow him and his friends around the cookie kingdom, and compliment the hard work they all put into their home. To give him the best hush he'll ever experience. But then the whole “Soul Jam abandoned him and he went mute” sort of… made him push his feelings aside. He never “processed” his feelings about Corrupted Pure Vanilla until he was chatting about it with his two friends.
It was one of the nights when he had that nightmare again, but this was the first time he was experiencing the horrors and memories of what happened to him when he was under the control of the corrupted cookie. Strawberry Cookie asked him why he didn’t have a sit-down with Shadow Milk or Pure Vanilla (after the Soul Jam returned to them), and GingerBrave shrugged. “It was already done and over with. No reason to bring it back up.” Wizard Cookie had warned him more times than he counted that pushing his feelings away will only lead him to his feelings being unprocessed for longer periods of time and that’ll get him hurt.
And he knows unprocessed feelings.
He’s experienced them since the beginning.
From the first day he escaped the oven, to freeing Dark Enchantress from her moonstone, to fighting the heroes to make them see the light once more- nearly dying almost every time to reach said heroes, dealing with the Cookies of Darkness and their multiple attempts to crumble him and his team, then the Creme Republic where he had to fight religious zealots and the Cake Army that invaded the city. Going to Beast Yeast and not only fighting Shadow Milk Cookie the first time, but then being thrown off of the top of a spire to fall to his death. AND THEN the Cake Witch becoming HUMAN, and dealing with … them. And after all of that, needing to deal with the Beasts to help them redeem themselves, then Pure Vanilla got corrupted, then there was the Faerie Kingdom with Silent Salt-
Dark Enchantress came back-
He was either reliving memories of the past of where he should’ve died or had a too close of a call-
“GingerBrave?” He saw a hand, a hand that belonged to a cookie he trusted with his life. A cookie who has been there to keep an eye on him and his friends. Who trusted him to help him find his friends. To love him and care for him when he was alone in the world. To advocate him to be an equal with all cookies, even when he did not know the simplest of things yet. That hand that he connected with “family” and “warmth” was suddenly “cold” and “hurt”.
GingerBrave considered Pure Vanilla Cookie as a “father figure”. He’s never known what it's like to have a parent, but Pure Vanilla Cookie and his friends… they sure act like parents towards him. The Beasts are becoming more of a family to him.
It hurts him to be afraid of someone he knows he can trust.
“GET BACK!” He shouted, his throat closing up as he struggled to keep himself aware of his surroundings. He knows his mind is overreacting but he swears he does not see Pure Vanilla Cookie- he sees the cookie who trapped him in a version of a “nightmare” that he couldn’t wake up from. He raised his hands to shove away the hand, he backed himself away from the other so that he could feel his own dough, his body, to know that he wasn’t trapped under the illusion of a “dream” that he could not escape from.
“Nilly! What’s wrong with him- Kid-!?” He heard someone say.
That grating voice with a hint of slippery venom- he hopes he never would have to hear that voice again.
He wasn’t in his room at the Vanilla Castle; he was back at the Spire, at the top with Pure Vanilla in new robes and an expression of disdain. He was gripping onto the edge of the cookie’s darker robes as the cookie of blue evil smiled so wickedly. Taunting and cruelly mocking the blonde cookie. He didn’t know what to do, how to bring Truthless Recluse Cookie to clarity, and all he could do was keep an eye on his friends while the clown crackled with laughter. Then when the Beast snapped his attention onto the trio, onto him- the blue jester took a step closer, and all he could hear then was the wind. The rushing wind that swept past his ears as the ground was suddenly missing from his feet. He felt his heart leap into his throat as a blur of blue fell into his vision and his instinct was to get away.
He wasn’t afraid of heights, but the trauma of almost falling to his death was still fresh in his mind.
GingerBrave snapped his head to keep an eye on the blue blur. To make sure he didn’t get an inch closer. He’s sure he voiced something along the lines of “get away- don’t touch me!” or something similar. The blue blur and the corrupted cookie weren’t stepping closer but it was also getting harder to see through the dancing stars over his eyes.
‘Put space between yourself and the enemy. That’s how you parry off an attack.’ The gruff voice of Dark Cacao Cookie echoed in his ears, echoing with his grunts of pain as he struggled to stand in a landscape of red and cracked earth. With the echoing trembling footsteps that belonged to a cookie-turned-witch, and the ache in his limbs that no longer belonged to his legs but now his whole body. His chest ached and burned as he inhaled the sickening scent of raw dough and dried jam on his lips. “Kid- kid- It’s okay. It’s us-” The clown taunted, hands outstretched to grab his arms. He needed to fight back. To fight for his friends. He can’t lose them again.
When the Ultimate Cookie had grabbed his arms, the shouts of millions of lost life and cookies echoed through his soul, he felt as if the world was imploding with the amplified screams and tears of agony. All uniformed into one being who mocked his appearance but was more connected to him than he could ever believe. All GingerBrave could hear in the oven was the echoing screams and wails of lost cookies and life energy that was collected into one body. One form. The “perfect” form. The Ultimate Cookie that just needed one more soul to add to their collection to be perfect.
He lost track of the Ultimate Cookie and the Trio when the witchly body crumbled, allowing the Legandaries to fix the broken cycle and for him to earn his right as “Champion”.
“Champion” of Hope.
How ironic that he was given such a gem when he is feeling the opposite of hope now.
He can’t feel his hands, nor his legs. The ache was gone and replaced with static. It was all a blur with his chest tight and the front of his head pinched tightly, it hurt to try and close his eyes when the world was so loud. Everything was too loud. There was too much touch. Too many hands, voices and hands grabbing at him.
It was hot.
Too hot.
It was the oven that made him breathe life.
It burned his breath and torched his insides, he was too hot. He needed to run.
Run.
That’s all he’s good at. He can run, make him run and he will do it. He will run to the ends of the world if it meant these nightmares would just go away and let him breathe.
He can’t do this.
He can’t be a hero.
He’s been the hero for too long. He needs a break. He’s tired.
He’s tired of being what everyone wants him to be. He needs to be a diplomat, he needs to be a leader, a support, a cookie that you can count on, an older brother to a baby, to be everything but not himself.
His dough is too big for him. His legs hurt too much. The world is too big for him to understand. Dark Enchantress was right- he is naive. GingerBrave hears his throat make a sound and then the noises and voices around him amplify-
“STOP! STOP!” The hero chokes out, sucking in the first breath since he woke up screaming. The noises just keep going, screaming and banging pots and pans with clatter of trays hitting the oven racks. His first full breath that offered air to his jam, a wind of oxygen that allowed his lungs to weep and claw at his ribcage. Does it always hurt for his heart to break and beat down his bones? He can see a sweep of dark spots wash over his wide eyes as the voices around him warp and spike, never quieting down but also not getting louder. He needs to be outside.
He needs to be somewhere quiet.
He needs to be safe.
He needs to get away from here.
(Distantly, a small campsite hears a grunt from one of the campers. They sit up from their cot, rubbing their face as they feel a mounting pressure of anxiety spike through their head. They reach his hand over to the gemstone that doesn’t beat the same way his heart does. The Light of Hope is panicked, more panicked than they had ever felt. This was worse than the other times he had panicked. They clamp their hand over the stone, pressing the uncut edges into his palm as he tries to ground the distant feeling of overwhelming fear. It felt… wrong to feel “fear” in his opposite).
GingerBrave hears a creak as then the voices grow louder, this time- there was an additional voice trying to soothe him. It was softer against the current of the voices and limbs outstretched and tugging at his limbs, but it was there for him to hear. It was not Hope, but not quite Despair. It was a voice that was grounding and yet, stubborn enough to keep at the same level of tone as to not contribute to the overwhelming warp of nightmares and voices. He needs to break out of this spiral before it gets worse, and if it gets worse then he’ll be back in his head, and that’s not a good thing because-
‘Breathe you moron.’ The soft voice snips. (The camper grunts as the sense of ache flares in his legs while the gemstone pulses wildly).
‘I- I can’t- I can’t br-reathe- Hurts-!’ GingerBrave gasps as his hands grip tighter onto his hair, trying to ground himself with little success. He doesn’t hear Pure Vanilla desperately trying to soothe the boy while Shadow Milk struggles to find his place to soothe the boy.
‘You’re freaking out over nothing. You’re safe. Close your eyes and breathe. You're straining your legs again.’ The voice snips, GingerBrave hiccups as his legs kick out but still bent. (The camper sighs in slight relief as the ache of their limbs are lighter but there was still pain in his chest, and they were tired, they would really like to get a full night’s sleep without freaking out the other three cookies).
‘You’re fine. Ground yourself. You have someone with you. Talk to someone, for the love of Pins and Cutters.’ The voice chides as it fades softly (the panic is still there but it’s lighter. The camper slowly untightens their hand and sees droplets of jam pooling into their palm from the edges cutting into their palm. Yet, he doesn’t care. He can finally sleep with the other part of him finally getting a moment of clarity).
GingerBrave shudders as a sensation of cold water splashes against his soul and it was enough to finally blink his eyes and to register the voices around him. The room was still dark but there were two cookies in his room; one sitting on the bed and the other by the door, their voices were debating on getting someone. Who, he couldn’t hear their name, but he can feel his head clear up slowly. He tries to focus on the surroundings, the example of the name five things you see, four things you can touch, etc… comes to mind. He needs to do that or else he would not be able to break this spiral. He needs to-
“We need to calm him down. I’m getting Black Raisin Cookie-”
“Bisquit, please, if you can hear us- just nod or something.” Shadow Milk Cookie tries while Pure Vanilla says something, it’s lost on GingerBrave but he nods. He can barely understand what’s happening around him, but it’s enough for him to comprehend some parts of what the two are saying. His head bouncing up and down as his mouth lets out a soft wheeze. It’s enough for the two older cookies to find the teen coming back to reality and it gets Pure Vanilla Cookie to leave the door, letting the soft dawn to filter into the room. The golden ex-king comes to the bed and when his body appears in GingerBrave’s vision, the teen jumps and slams his body back.
His back wails as his legs groan in displeasure, GingerBrave hisses as he cradles his head (and back at camp, the camper hisses and grabs the stone, growling a warning to knock it off before he does something, and grumpily turns over in thor cot while holding the gemstone to their chest).
“Too fast-”
“Oh- I’m sorry-”
GingerBrave gasps for air as he tries to register the world around him. He hears soft voices, he sees blurs of blue and warm yellow, and he needs to calm down now before they try to reach out to touch him. He can’t handle touch right now, it’s not the best idea right now with the feeling of undead and raw dough limbs grabbing his legs and his arms-
“Hey Bisquit, can you hear us?” The blue blur is softer and quieter, more gentle and less loud. Not as loud as the voices echoing and rattling his brain. GingerBrave nods while he tries to steady his breathing, a sound of pain slips from his lips. “Okay- okay- good- can you- ah-- Nils-” There was a dip in the bed and he flinched, choking on his breath. “GingerBrave… Can- can you tell me what you can see? It’s okay- everything is okay… Can you tell me what you see?” His struggles for a moment, to ground his mind enough to filter his eyes around his space to choke out, “Sheets, nightshirt, wall, bed, curtains.”
It feels heavy to speak, like all will and want has been punched out of his chest. He needs to just crawl out of his dough and just exist without needing to feel this unwelcomed heaviness. “Can you… name me four things you can touch?” Touch and feel are one in the same but that doesn’t stop GingerBrave from gasping, “Blankets, hair, sheets, and- and bed?” He offers, his voice shakes but it doesn’t tremble as much as it did when he first spoke but it works enough for the healer to scoot closer and whisper softly, “Three things you can feel?”
GingerBrave isn’t sure if he repeated the same first three from the previous statement but he can feel his shakes ease from shudders to slight tremors. His head is pounding with an awful headache, the colors around him swim. “Good- good- you’re doing so good. Can you name me two things you can hear?”
Voices.
Thousands of voices crying, sobbing, wailing.
They won’t stop crying, and it hurts to listen to them because he can’t do anything to save them. To make their pain go away-
“Yyyyyyikes.”
“Shadow Milk Cookie.” Pure Vanilla hisses. Then he says more calmly, “Can you name me one thing you can taste?” GingerBrave sniffles as his hands rub his eyes, “Taste?” He croaks, raspy and achy, but clear enough for Pure Vanilla’s shoulders to drop in relief. “Yeah… Taste, can you taste anything?” The boy doesn’t respond as he licks his cracked lips. “No… Not really.” He says. He feels himself dropping his limbs bonelessly as he blinks away the last of the tears. He can sort of see more clearly but it can’t see the looks that the two older cookies share with one another.
Something set off the teen, so much so that he reacted as if they were going to hurt him. Pure Vanilla Cookie slowly reached out, palms out and ready to pull away if the teen so wished. But when the younger cookie wiped his face, he didn’t react as the older cookie carefully took the younger’s hand and pulled him to come closer. There was no resistance and Pure Vanilla Cookie felt like the weight of the world was off of his back. He immediately wrapped his arms around the boy and tucked his head under his chin as his arms braced the trembling body. He felt the teen stiffen before relaxing again, it was enough for the redeemed Beast to scooch over and wrap his arms around the kid.
They could feel the leftover tremors rock the body but they didn’t dare pull away. Not when it was obvious that the child needed as much love and hugs as they needed answers. For now though, they’ll just hug and hold the kid until he feels safe enough to tell them what could possibly be haunting him.