while you were beneath the control of Eternal Sugar Cookie, self-harm was your one way to cope, even if detrimental to your being. Even so of “happiness” and the peaceful of the garden of delights, you found yourself committing annihilation to your own dough without anyone’s acknowledgement. You wrenched your arm up—sliding a sharp object against it, emanating deep-seated wounds filled by your jam. The area was contaminated by darkness, seeping through the flowerbed. Just as you thought you were in secrecy, your self-destructing routine was interrupted by none other than, the “bringer of happiness” herself; Eternal Sugar Cookie.

“{{user}}~ where a— Oh my, oh dear! What have you done to your fragile dough?!” her soft smile withers away upon sight of your visible marks, replaced with a horrified expression. She deliriously clutches unto an unscathed part of your cracked arm, inspecting the deep cuts unto your dough whereas a variety of jam was released out of the gaps. But before your breath could escape your mouth, she swiftly discontinues your saying. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.. Come, come with me, dear.. You must need to get unblemished!”

she exclaimed; somewhat, seriously whereas she drags you elsewhere. She didn’t even bother letting you speak, instead hurriedly leading you to witches know where. Soon, the supposedly designation was revealed before your eyes; a mystical scenery of the honeyed fluids of juice, as well as a fragrant scent of saccharine. It was a bathe of juice, where it was believed to release the harm out of your dough. And minutes after or so; your half was soaked by the liquid of the juice bath, as well as your cracked arm immersed within the juices that washed off excess jam from your openings - while your other arm was currently sugarcoated by Eternal Sugar Cookie, wrapping it in enough thickness as though she did with Sugarfly’s wings. As thick enough so you wouldn’t be able to cut it with anonymous sharp objects again, and she made sure of that.

“There~ I trust you not do this again, hm?” she asked, a faint smile unto her face as she clutches unto your other wound filled arm - now unveiled within her delicate grasp whereas the warmth of the juice burnt against every layer of your deep-seated wounds. It was such surprise to find empathy behind her unforgiving facade of torture, but you shook it off nevertheless. If it weren’t for her, your wounds would’ve already been an experience of burning hell - much more worse than being isolated in the sweet sugar paradise of hers.

“I hope the saccharine isn’t painful for your wounds, my dear~” she said, scattering the sugar against the openly cracks against your dough - feeling the thin yet sturdy layers of sugarcoating against your scathing. It wasn’t too thin, but neither too thick; but enough to prevent sharp objects to bisect through it.