ebanyphoenix22

[ebanyphoenix22]

Edit - Yuni at Grim's Groovie for the 5th Anniversary

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2° Year Twisted Wonderland Disney Style

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3° Year Twisted Wonderland Disney Style

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1° Year Twisted Wonderland (and Yuni) Disney Style

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they are... friends..............

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Fox kit

Digital drawing of an adorable little fox kit

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Artfight 2025: L4MB Tea Party

the funni lambs having a tea party on artfight!

Here are the lambs in this artfight attack: @aveloka-draws: Lamb (IV AU) Devi_Dizz: Sam (The Lamb) @cosmica-candy: Louvemont "Lover" Rosario @frecktheheck: Lambert-Jindra

[ebanyphoenix22]

Drew my TV Head OC dressed up as the Lamb a while ago wanted to post it here

(I tried making a halloween town hence the pumpkins)

Love cult of the lamb gotta get back into it since they've done so many updates

[ebanyphoenix22]

little thing from the wrestling au bc i miss it. lamb is very throwable and all goats know it

[ebanyphoenix22]

Date requested: 7/11/2025

Fandom: Cookie Run: Kingdom

Type: one-shot

Requested by: @ebanyphoenix22

Snow clung to the windows of the citadel like lace. The storm had arrived quietly in the early morning, and now the Kingdom of Dark Cacao slumbered beneath a blanket of white.

Inside the fortress, the fire burned high in the hearth. Shadows danced against stone walls, wrapping you in gentle silence as you stirred honey into steaming tea.

Your husband sat nearby, silent as ever. Dark Cacao Cookie had been up for hours— he always rose before you— but he hadn’t spoken much this morning. His eyes had been locked on the horizon outside the window, unreadable.

You approached and set a cup beside him. “You’ve been brooding since dawn,” you said softly.

He didn’t flinch at your voice. He rarely did. But his fingers curled just slightly around the cup, and that was answer enough.

“…He’s coming,” he murmured after a long moment.

You tilted your head.

“Dark Choco.”

The name settled like ice in the room. Not because of anger. But pain. Guilt. All the things neither father nor son could ever say aloud. You reached out and gently laced your fingers through his.

“I’ll be here,” you said.

⸻

When the gates opened, Dark Choco Cookie stood like a ghost in the snow—armor dulled, cape heavy with frost. His helmet was removed, tucked beneath one arm. He didn’t look up, even as the guards shifted uncomfortably at his presence. Their prince. The one who left. The one who fell.

But you came out to meet him.

He didn’t expect you to smile. Or to come close. Or to reach up and tuck a piece of ice-matted hair behind his ear like he was still a boy who scraped his knees trying to impress his father with swordplay.

“I was hoping you’d visit,” you said warmly, ignoring the way he flinched.

“You shouldn’t welcome me,” Dark Choco muttered. “I don’t deserve it.”

Your hands cupped his face.

“I’m not here to judge your past,” you whispered. “I’m your mother. And you look like you haven’t had a home-cooked meal in years.”

His eyes welled up.

He didn��t cry. Not then. But you felt it. The tremble in his shoulders. The breath he held.

He followed you inside.

⸻

The room you’d prepared for him wasn’t grand. It wasn’t some cold ceremonial guest chamber meant to remind him of courtly failures. It was cozy. Warm browns. A bed with thick blankets.

Shelves with books he used to love—placed there by your own hand after asking Dark Cacao what his son used to read. A scarf you’d knitted rested folded on the pillow. You had no idea if he’d actually wear it. But you wanted to make something for him.

When he stepped inside, he stared. Frozen. Then he touched the edge of the scarf with one clawed finger and let out a shaking breath.

“Why… are you being kind to me?”

You looked up from where you were adjusting the firewood.

“Because I love you,” you said simply.

Dark Choco finally sat down on the bed. His eyes darted to you, then the floor. Then back again.

“Are you afraid of me?”

You smiled gently. “You’ve been through pain. That doesn’t make you frightening to me.”

He shook his head. “But I’m… broken.”

“So is this kingdom.” You came to his side and brushed his hair away again. “So is your father, in ways he may never admit. We don’t heal in perfect shapes, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t been called that since childhood. He froze.

“…Do you want to help me make dinner?” you asked, giving him a nudge. “Your father’s been eating nothing but jerky for weeks. It’s a miracle he hasn’t turned to stone.”

That startled a tiny huff of laughter out of him. Small. But real.

⸻

Dinner was quiet. Peaceful. You guided Dark Choco’s hands as he chopped vegetables. Praised his work. Laughed when he over-spiced the broth.

And when Dark Cacao walked in, towering and stiff with that familiar tension coiled in his shoulders, you rose and kissed his cheek.

“You’re just in time.”

He sat slowly at the table, his gaze flicking to his son. There was so much unsaid between them. Mountains of it. But you broke the silence first.

“Dark Choco helped make the stew,” you said with pride.

The boy flinched slightly at the compliment. But Dark Cacao gave a single, slow nod.

“…It smells good.”

That was enough. A start.

You didn’t push. Didn’t force healing or drag confessions into the light. You just made sure they ate. That the hearth stayed warm. That when Dark Choco paused mid-bite and looked at you with something unreadable in his eyes, you met him with soft understanding.

Later, when he stood awkwardly in the doorway of your sitting room, watching as you sewed in the lamplight, you simply patted the couch beside you.

“You don’t have to talk,” you said. “Just rest.”

He sat. And leaned against you. And after a long, long time, you felt his head drop onto your shoulder.

“…I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You carded your fingers gently through his hair.

“You’re safe now.”

And when Dark Cacao returned from the hall and saw the scene—his wife holding his son, gently cradling the boy he thought he lost—he paused at the doorway. His fingers clenched at his sides. Then slowly, slowly, he crossed the room and knelt in front of you both.

Dark Choco looked up, eyes red and unsure.

Dark Cacao opened his arms.

For a long time, no one moved.

Then Dark Choco collapsed forward into them.

He cried like a child. Shaking. Sobbing. Years of pain—gone unsaid, unwitnessed—ripping out of him like a flood. You wrapped your arms around both of them, rocking gently. Whispering soft nothings. Praising them for trying. For surviving. For staying.

You were their heart. Their warmth.

And as snow fell quietly beyond the stone walls, you knew:

This was your family.

And they would never be al

[ebanyphoenix22]

Wukong went too far on his journey to the west…

Art by: BlushSpatula

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peeps up at u

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Continuation of my earlier design of them that I posted. This is what they look like when the boa's put on properly it turns into a hanbok through magical means.. how does it work? i have no idea this is earthbread we have magic and shit

I'm not a huge fan of how the helmet turned out though 💔 oh well I tried

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Stolas portrait

Digital illustration of Stolas as depicted in Vivziepop's series, Helluva Boss. I've been experimenting with different brush presets in an attempt to give the pic a painted look.

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Art Fight Attack 2!

Good Lucky

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G3-Style G4 Fluttershy!