#bio and headshots

[ronintheatrecollabrative]

E.C. Darling-Bond (Horatio) is delighted and honored to serve not only as an actor, but also as co-adaptor & assistant director on this passion project. Although primarily known as an actor in the valley, E.C. has had productions of his work staged. Most recently as a contributing playwright for B3’s “Night of Shorts” (Lil Red) & Ronin Theatre’s “Haunted Castle” (Pinky Promises) in 2024. Darling-Bond’s work can be found on his website ECDarlingBond.com. E.C. is indebted to Keath, who brought him aboard Ronin to become their new Marketing Director & will serve as co-assistant artistic director for their 2026 season. E.C. is thankful for the cast and tech team for their brilliance, time, and dedication. Lastly, E.C. is eternally grateful to his wife, Grace, and family for their never ending support. Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, shehecheyanu, v’kiy’manu, v’higiyanu laz’man hazeh.

It’s his 30th birthday today and all he wants is you to see this show - https://www.azirish.org/ronin-theatre/

Our Trek Dates:

5/22-5/25 Irish Cultural Center & McClelland Library, Phoenix, AZ

5/31-6/1 Beaver Street Theatre, Flagstaff

6/6-6/8 Phoenix Fan Fusion, Phoenix, AZ

6/20-6/29 stage Left Theatre, Glendale, AZ

[estellardreams]

Out of Context LMK AUs

AUs Featured:

Mine:

Fusion Traffic Light Trio

The Bearers of Unity (@tbouau)

Rapunzel Wukong (by proxy Moonstone Macaque)

Prisoner Trio

Charcoal Bone King

Moon Prince

Kirin Wukong

@winterpower98

Cursed AU

@enka-antix

Rewind Monkey King

Mortal Monkey King

Band AU

Eclipsed Monkey King

@purble-turble

Prisoner MK

Prince Red

Red Boy

Time Travel Red

Demon King Red

@saphstories

Bright Moon AU

@chonggen

Eclipse Regressed

@oddogoblino

Streamer AU

@cassidyisnowdrawing

Swap Light - Yellow

Swap Light - Red

@quesocheeso

Sunset AU

@artepti

Lovingly Led to Ruin

@kyri45

Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU

@dynamicsimp

Eyeshot AU

Headshot AU

[wof-headshots-daily]

The silkwings also feature another repeated name: Whitespeck. You have art of one of them already thus the other one can yet be done. One Whitespeck is pale brown and gold and was trying his best looking out for Dusky as well as a Chrysalis member of Bloodworm Hive and the other is one of the flamesilk silkwings, per the wiki. I do not quite know which you previously intended to cover given there's hardly much to go off of for either. I look forward to seeing how you decide, in any case.

Day 292- Whitespeck

[ian-bean-92]

Some headshots I drew for people on discord :)

[op3ra]

i stand to my feet, scoop up my insides, i'll be just fine on my own

A realist disguised as an optimist, Rusty is a little older, a little angrier, and a little more tired. Having spent the better part of his existence fighting for his life against the rust that plagues him, he’s putting up one final stand before he’s done.

He's still confident, stubborn, and determined, but he's also got a sense of desperation as the race is his last attempt to earn enough for a full refurbishment before the rust kills him. He's observant and knows his limits, but he also knows his strengths. 

He spends the workday carrying out schedules and managing trains, though this type of boring stationary work leaves him quietly frustrated and itching for something new most days. Despite most trains avoiding him due to his decay, those who do approach him will find that he is very friendly, mindful, and outwardly optimistic.

Though physically strong due to his history of pulling passenger trains--a career he longs to return to--he struggles with the negative effects of the rust, and is undergoing near-constant minor repairs. He therefore spends little time outside of work doing anything but hanging out at the repair bay and racing in local circuits.

[kingproteus]

Feeding my porn bot herd

[artepti]

Masterpost - My Linktree

LEGO Monkie Kid

Tag for all LMK Posts of mine

Lovingly led to Ruin (LLR)

A Shadowpeach LMK AU about possessed Macaque and Wukong.

Start here

LLR Masterpost

Extension to help protect your writing against AI scraping (AO3)

PoisonAIBros

3D Art

Mac Model (downloadable) King Model (downloadable)

Layers of Us (Lof.U.)

Part 1 │ Part 2...

Echo of the Dead (EotD) ...a failed resurrection zombie Macaque AU

Idea │ Revival

Stolen Sun AU …an AU where Macaque erases the King's memory, setting the stage for a carefully orchestrated revenge.

Amnesia hits │ New Name │ Dosage │ Monkeys

Shadoware

SW!Wukong

Awesome LMK (mostly LLR) Fanart from other people! :DD

Notsofrozt 1 and Notsofrozt 2 :D Shatteredstarsart! Monkiemango ^^ Estellardreams - All her Fanart :] foxqueen211 1 and foxqueen211 2 :o Un-dermask ｡◕ ‿ ◕｡ DynamicSimp + Art Trade (♥ ᴗ ♥) Irisicha 1 and Irisicha 2 \(◦'⌣'◦)/ Littlerosei (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ Rosemaryduexx ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

LMK Fanart

Fanart I've made of other people’s AUs! :D

HeadShot AU by DynamicSimp Other people's LMK OCs! Zixin by Stariikat. Cannibal!Mac x Regen!Wukong by DynamicSimp Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU and Electric Boogaloo by Kyri45 Taken from me by Scififan21 Grinning Shadow AU by Violetjedisylveon

General / Other LMK Art

Autocorrect Somewhere this counts as LLR concept art, I’m sure Dangerous Sociopath Left hand/Right hand Challenge with Mac How to accidentally seduce your ex nemesis (Fanfic with Art!) Fanart for Double or Nothing AU . .

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hermitcraft

#The Hermitcraft tag for Hermitcraft Art

[castor-redd]

Do YOU want a free, greyscale headshot sketch of your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor/Rook/other Dragon Age OC, or an NPC from any of the games??? Well boy do I possibly have a deal for you.

REPLY to this post with:

- The name of a character

- (Optional) Any specific things you want, like expression or angle or idk stuff like that

- For OCs specifically:

- At least one picture/link to a picture of your character I can use as a reference

- (Optional) Any notes about their appearance that may not be featured (I.e. maybe they have a scar that you can't put on them in-game or extra jewellry)

- (Optional) Tell me something or link to a blurb/bio/tag/etc. about your guy so I can read about them later :) I’ve been out of the fandom for so long that a lot of the people I used to follow have gone; it’d be nice to see what everyone’s got cooking nowadays.

BONUS if you want your sketch in colour: Send me an ask with a question from an ask game that is for/can be applied to Dragon Age. Include the link/source of the question, and mention that you’ve commented on this post. OR just ask me anything about my Dragon Age characters :) I love any chance to talk about them. Also if you do this please make sure the ref image you give me has semi-decent lighting for your character so I don’t botch their colour palette.

(A few ask games to pull from: Rook 1, Rook 2, Rook 3, Rook Origins, Warden, Warden Romance, Hawke, Hawke Romance, Inquisitor. If you’re the creator of one of these games, I’ll draw for you no matter when you post a comment, just by way of thanks :))

The first 20 folks will be guaranteed to get art; if you’re outside the first 20, I will do my best to get to you. But I have no idea what the reception to this will be, so um. I make no promises. 21? Totally feasible. 31? A little less so, but I’ll do my best :). It’s like 2am for me right now so I will probably start working on things tomorrow, and we’ll see how fast I can crank them out.

Examples of what you’ll get are below, except your art will be a little cleaner, larger, and a lot more square these were cropped out of a larger piece that was not intended to be close-up portraits, but um. My art tag is far too dusty for me to point to it for examples so sad cropping jobs it was.

(Unrelated but these are all my DA guys — two Wardens, Hawke, Inquisitor, Rook. If you ask me about them, it will make my day.)

[manonsmartini]

The Softest Revolution (S. Laforteza) — I

✒️ Contains some Filipino dialogues

(3.4k words)

[Y/N] [L/N] liked starting her projects with a little rage.

It was the only way to survive the final semester of college: find something that made her blood boil just enough to keep her moving, but not so much that she’d burn out halfway through. This week, it was the Grassroots Governance final output that lit the fuse.

“This isn’t just a paper,” Professor Bannerman announced from the front of the room, waving a printed rubric in one hand like a flag of bureaucracy. “I want lived experience. I want names. I want receipts.”

[Y/N] slumped in her seat, chewing the cap of her pen. “Receipts” meant work. “Receipts” meant interviews, transcriptions, follow-ups.

“You will each choose a case—someone who entered public service as a youth leader. Preferably outside of Metro Manila,” the professor continued. “SK officials, young barangay captains, former councilors. Interview them. Analyze their political formation. Understand how the system either supported or failed them. And—” he paused, eyes scanning the room, “—I want heart. These aren’t just politicians. These are people.”

“Who signed up for this elective again?” [Y/N] muttered under her breath.

Her seatmate, Megan, leaned in. “Weren’t you the one who said this class would be ‘juicy’?”

“I meant juicy as in corrupt mayors and padlocked barangay gyms,” [Y/N] replied, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook. “Not glorified LinkedIn interviews.”

Still, she couldn’t lie—there was something kind of fascinating about youth officials. All that idealism shoved into positions they weren’t really trained for. She knew how it went. Smiling at flag ceremonies, quoting Jose Rizal during seminars, and being quietly dismissed by older politicians in barong tagalogs. She’d seen it in Manila. She imagined it was worse in the provinces.

Later that night, half-asleep at her desk, [Y/N] began her usual research rabbit hole. She clicked through one municipal government site after another, skimming bios and headshots, until a name tugged at something old and faint in her memory: Sophia Laforteza.

She paused.

Her photo was simple—just a pink blazer and clear, even eyes. “Three-term municipal councilor. Former SK chairperson. Anticipated to run for Mayor in the 2025 elections.”

[Y/N] leaned closer. The name was familiar. She remembered it from the tarpaulins scattered across highway posts the year her family moved back to the province. Laforteza. The one who always looked too polished for the dirt roads her posters hung over.

And yet, here she was. Still relatively young. More than a decade in public service. And if the rumors were true, about to enter the next stage of her political life.

[Y/N] squinted at the photo again. There was something in Sophia’s smile—controlled, elegant, practiced—that made her suspicious. It was the kind of smile that didn’t let anything slip.

She tilted her head. “Closeted,” she muttered. Not unkindly. Just an observation. A hunch.

She grabbed her phone.

The next morning, [Y/N] was home for the weekend, pretending to help clean when she called out from the kitchen, “Tita Lorna, do you know someone named Sophia Laforteza?”

Her aunt’s voice came from the sala. “Sophia? The councilor?”

[Y/N] popped her head around the corner. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

Her aunt lowered her tsinelas-covered feet from the coffee table and looked at her knowingly. “Why? You interviewing her for school or is this for your ‘feminist awakening’ again?”

“It’s for a paper,” [Y/N] said flatly. “But also, maybe both.”

“Well,” her aunt laughed, “I know her, yes. She used to do feeding programs here sa barangay when she was still SK. She's a councilor now. Running for mayor soon, I think. Mabait siya. Kind, very… proper.”

“Proper,” [Y/N] echoed. “That’s what they say about women they expect to stay quiet.”

Her aunt chuckled. “Ay naku. You and your fire. Wait, I’ll text someone from the municipal hall. I’m sure I can get her number.”

“Is that even legal?” [Y/N] asked.

“In this town?” Her aunt winked. “Nothing is.”

True to her word, Tita Lorna texted back ten minutes later with a name and number saved under “Konsi Sophia”—a contact pulled from some old committee group chat, probably one that still buzzed with barangay updates and misplaced GIFs. [Y/N] stared at the number for a while, tapping her phone against her palm.

She wasn’t sure why she felt nervous. She’d interviewed activists, NGO workers, even one minor senator’s chief of staff. But something about this one — a local politician with an unreadable face and a reputation for being “clean” — made her weirdly self-conscious.

She clicked over to her notes and reread her draft message three times before pressing send:

Hi Ma’am Sophia,

I’m [Y/N] [L/N], a Community Development student from the University of the Philippines. I’m currently working on a project about youth participation in politics and was hoping I could interview you about your experience as a former SK and current councilor. Let me know if you’re open to it. Thank you, and I hope you’re well.

No emojis. Professional tone. Clear ask. Still, she cringed slightly after hitting send—“Ma’am Sophia” sounded too formal, but she didn’t want to seem disrespectful. Her thumbs hovered, tempted to follow it up with “Also I’m gay and have a weird feeling you are too,” but she shoved her phone under her pillow instead.

Sophia read the message sitting in her parked car outside the grocery store, a half-full basket of vegetables sweating beside her in the passenger seat.

She was already tired, and it wasn’t even 4 p.m. That week had been stacked with last-minute ordinance work and quiet meetings with her campaign team. The official filing period was coming up soon. Her name was being floated, again. Every day felt like a rehearsal for something she hadn’t decided she wanted to perform in.

She expected spam when she saw the unknown number. Maybe another supplier asking to print posters early. But the message stopped her. Short. Clear. Respectful, but not deferential. No mention of party lines or flattering nonsense.

She read it twice.

Something about the sender’s name, [Y/N] [L/N], felt familiar. Then she saw the tag: University of the Philippines. Community Development. A city girl. Probably sharp, probably idealistic. The kind of student who came into small towns looking to uncover either corruption or inspiration.

Still, it was just an interview. She’d done a dozen of these over the years.

Most students just asked the same things: What motivated you to serve? What were your challenges? How did you find your voice?

She could answer those questions in her sleep.

And yet… something about this one made her hesitate.

Maybe it was the timing. Or the fact that this [Y/N] girl had chosen her before the campaign even started—before the spotlight came back on. There was something quiet and intentional in that.

Sophia let her fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before typing:

Hello [Y/N],

Thank you for reaching out. I’d be happy to talk about my experience. I’m usually free midweek. Would Wednesday afternoon work for you?

She hit send, then leaned back into her seat, exhaling slowly. The grocery bag crinkled beside her as the car grew warm in the late afternoon sun.

For the first time in weeks, she let herself wonder what it would feel like to be seen — not as a councilor, not as a candidate, not as someone’s daughter or poster girl for public service. Just… seen.

She didn’t know yet that [Y/N] would do exactly that.

The municipal hall smelled like linoleum and old air-conditioning. [Y/N] adjusted the strap of her tote bag as she waited outside the councilors’ wing, her thumb absently rubbing at a faint ink stain on her notebook.

She’d been early, of course—product of both nerves and habit—and was now stuck pacing in front of a framed photo of the local officials lined up like they were auditioning for a teleserye.

“Councilor Laforteza is finishing up in the field,” the admin assistant had told her. “She’ll be here in a few.”

[Y/N] wasn’t sure what “in the field” meant in this town. Feeding program? Barangay meeting? Tree-planting? Still, it explained the delay—and it gave her time to steel herself.

She didn’t want to come off overeager. This was still research. Nothing personal. Even if the subject was, somehow, already getting under her skin.

The office door opened ten minutes later with a soft creak, and in walked Sophia Laforteza, not in heels and blazer as [Y/N] had imagined, but in a bright pink collared shirt with her name embroidered above the heart. She wore dark jeans, slightly scuffed white sneakers, and her ponytail was pulled tight but slightly messy, as if it had been perfect this morning and had given up around noon. Her face glistened faintly with sweat. She looked like she’d just come from a basketball court or a barangay clean-up.

[Y/N] blinked. She didn’t expect that. She wasn’t sure what she expected.

“Hi,” Sophia said, wiping her brow with a small towel before offering a hand. “You’re [Y/N]?”

“[Y/N],” she replied, shaking it. “Thanks for making time.”

Sophia gestured toward the door of her office. “Come in. Sorry for the delay—had to check in on a feeding program in Zone 5. No shade there and too many cameras.”

Her voice was calm, maybe even a little amused. She didn’t sound annoyed to be meeting [Y/N]. Just… tired in the way people are when they’ve done this all before.

As she stepped into her office, Sophia paused and glanced at her staff. “May tao pa ba sa labas?”

“Wala na po, Councilor. ’Yung taga-CSWD lang kanina, umalis na.”

Sophia nodded, then muttered just loud enough for [Y/N] to catch, “Good. I might say something partisan again.” Then, to herself but not exactly privately: “Eh, kahit ano pang masabi ko, totoo naman ’yon.”

She didn’t explain what she meant. [Y/N] filed it away.

The office itself was modest—old wooden furniture, a filing cabinet with an out-of-place stuffed toy on top, probably a gift from some school visit. On the wall was a framed ordinance she authored in her first term. Above her desk, the town’s seal. And behind her, no fanfare—just a single campaign sticker stuck to a clipboard.

“I only have about 45 minutes before I have to run to committee,” she said, settling into her chair and tucking her towel away. “But that should be enough, right?”

[Y/N] sat across from her, notebook ready. “Yes, more than enough.”

Sophia leaned back slightly. “Alright. How do you want to start?”

[Y/N] glanced down at her guide. “Let’s start with how you got into this. I read you were SK Chair before becoming councilor. Why politics?”

Sophia exhaled softly. “I was sixteen. I didn’t really want to run at first. I was shy—introverted. But my mom worked in the municipal hall for years, admin staff. She saw something in me I didn’t. Said I should at least try.”

“She encouraged you?”

“She dragged me to the filing office herself,” Sophia said, smiling faintly. “She said if I didn’t speak up for our barangay, someone else would—and they’d probably be a boy who didn’t even show up to meetings.”

[Y/N] chuckled. “Mothers know best?”

“Sometimes too well,” Sophia said. Then, after a beat: “I’m the eldest, you know. I have a younger brother who’s… actually about your age. And a younger sister—she’s about the age you must’ve been when I ran for SK.”

That comment hung in the air longer than expected.

“I think that’s why I said yes,” Sophia continued, more softly now. “Being the eldest… you learn to say yes to things even when you’re not ready. You’re trained to take responsibility before you fully understand the cost.”

[Y/N] didn’t write anything down for a second. She just watched her. “And when did it stop being just duty?”

Sophia met her eyes. “I don’t think it has.”

There was a quiet stretch. No dramatic music. Just the hum of the wall fan and the ticking of a dusty clock.

[Y/N] leaned in slightly. “You don’t talk like most politicians I’ve interviewed.”

Sophia tilted her head. “I’ve been told that’s both a strength and a liability.”

“Is that why you asked if anyone was outside earlier?”

Sophia gave a tight smile, but didn’t confirm or deny it. “I’ve learned the hard way that speaking plainly around here makes people uncomfortable. Especially when you’re the only one saying it.”

[Y/N] nodded slowly, then asked, more gently than before, “Do you ever get tired of being the reasonable one in the room?”

Sophia’s response was almost immediate. “Yes. But I’m more tired of watching the unreasonable ones win.”

The clock ticked again. She glanced at it. Ten minutes.

[Y/N] sat back, absorbing it all. “You’ve been incredibly honest. Thank you.”

Sophia stood and walked her to the door, wiping her hands on a handkerchief she pulled from her back pocket. “If you need anything else, follow-up questions… text. I may not reply right away, but I’ll try.”

[Y/N] turned, pausing in the doorway. “Last thing—if it’s okay to ask.”

Sophia waited.

“Do you think people here actually know you?”

Sophia gave her a long look. “They know what they want to see.”

[Y/N] nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

She stepped out of the office. But just before the door closed behind her, Sophia added, “And what about you, [Y/N] [L/N]? What are you hoping to see?”

[Y/N] looked back, surprised. “I’m still figuring that out.”

Sophia smiled, just barely. “Let me know when you do.”

The hallway outside the councilors’ wing was quiet, but [Y/N]’s mind buzzed as she made her way down the stairs and out into the heat of the town plaza. The air smelled like jeepney exhaust and freshly swept dust.

She pulled out her phone, typed a quick “Thanks again po!” to Sophia, and shoved it back in her pocket.

Don’t overthink it. It’s just an interview.

[Y/N] told herself this like a prayer. But the thing was—she had overthought it. She hadn’t expected Sophia Laforteza to be so grounded, so sharp, so… real. Not the robotic politician she’d braced for, but someone with wit, restraint, a quiet kind of intensity. And that thing she said—“They know what they want to see”—that stuck.

There was something about people like that. People who knew how to say just enough to be honest, but never more than they were willing to be held accountable for. [Y/N] had met activists with more fire, officials with more polish—but none who made her second-guess her own reactions this much.

She told herself it was just intellectual admiration. That it was fine. But her chest was buzzing in a way that had nothing to do with politics.

She opened her notebook later that night and found her notes perfectly legible but completely useless. None of it captured what she actually wanted to remember.

Sophia shut the door slowly behind [Y/N] and didn’t move for a few seconds. She turned toward her desk, tossed her towel on the back of her chair, and sat back down, exhaling quietly.

Her staff assistant, Dani, peeked in through the side entrance. “Interview done?”

“She asked good questions,” Sophia said, reaching for her water bottle. “Smart girl. Knows what she’s talking about. Didn’t flinch at the heavy stuff.”

Dani smirked. “City student?”

“University of the Philippines,” she said. “Community Dev.”

“Ah, I see. I get the impression that she’s some sort of a student leader—an activist.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“No, no—just means you better be ready to be quoted word-for-word,” she said, laughing as she stepped back out.

Sophia took a sip of water, eyes lingering on the spot where [Y/N] had sat. She wasn’t exactly used to being studied so closely—at least not by someone who wasn’t trying to take her down or lift her up for PR. The girl had been sharp. Quiet in some moments, pointed in others. Not afraid to look her in the eye.

“Remind me to offer her a slot in our office,” she said, casually, but loud enough for Dani to hear. “If I win next year. Communications or research, maybe.”

Dani poked her head back in, grinning. “Internship?”

“Something like that,” Sophia said, spinning her pen between her fingers.

Of course she knew how fast gossip moved in Hilaga. It wouldn’t take more than a few days before someone mentioned it to Lorna [L/N]—who would, of course, mention it to her niece. Sophia didn’t mind. It wasn’t exactly a job offer. Not really. Just… a placeholder.

A reason.

She pulled open a drawer, rummaged for a post-it, and wrote down: [Y/N] [L/N] – University of the Philippines. Then folded it and slipped it under her campaign folder.

There were many reasons to keep track of people. Some were strategic. Some were instinct. And some… didn’t need to be named just yet.

Later that evening, Sophia found herself on the small veranda of her family’s ancestral house, the one they still called Lola’s house even though their grandmother had passed five years ago. The ceiling fan on the porch was doing its best, and the air smelled like cut grass and mosquito coils.

Her best friend, Lara, sat across from her in scrubs and house slippers, already halfway through her iced coffee. She was 28, newly licensed, and on break from her rural rotation. She looked like she hadn’t slept in two days but was still somehow sharper than everyone in the room.

“So,” Lara said, stirring her drink slowly. “A little bird told me you’re planning to poach a student activist from the capital?”

Sophia didn’t even look up from her phone. “It wasn’t poaching. I said if I ever win.”

“Mm-hmm.” Lara smirked. “And you told Dani that loud enough to reach the hallway. Strategic leaking, huh?”

Sophia gave a soft snort. “Gossip moves faster than official memos in this town. I wanted her tita to hear about it. She’ll pass it on.”

Lara leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “And why would you want [Y/N] [L/N], University of the Philippines, city kid with a sharp tongue and suspicious eyes, to know you want her around?”

Sophia finally looked up. “She asked good questions.”

“She’s not the first student to interview you.”

“She’s not like the others.”

Lara tilted her head, amused. “Okay. In what way?”

Sophia hesitated. Then shrugged, like it was no big deal. “She listened. Really listened. And she didn’t try to make me into something. Most people come in with an image they want to confirm. She… didn’t.”

There was a pause. Lara’s expression softened.

“And?” she said gently.

Sophia didn’t answer right away. She reached for the condensation-slick glass on the table and took a slow sip. “She reminded me of… what I must’ve looked like at that age. Before everything had to be weighed for impact.”

“Except she knew who she was,” Lara said.

Sophia froze for a second. Lara always hit the heart of it in one line too many.

“She has that certainty,” Lara added. “The kind you used to pretend to have.”

Sophia leaned back, exhaling. “She’s young.”

“She’s what, in her early 20s? That’s the same age I was when I helped you rewrite your SK platform. Remember?”

Sophia smiled faintly. “You added the health center clause. Got me an award I didn’t deserve.”

“No,” Lara said. “You deserved it. You just didn’t know how to ask for help back then.”

There was another pause. Crickets had started up in the garden.

“You think I’m being ridiculous,” Sophia said.

“I think,” Lara replied, “that you’re curious. And you’re not used to that anymore. You’ve been running on obligation for so long that the moment something—or someone—makes you feel anything outside that cycle, you don’t know where to put it.”

Sophia didn’t respond. Just stared into the middle distance, where the moonlight hit the rusted swing set their grandfather built.

Lara leaned back, giving her space. “You don’t have to know what it is yet. You just have to be honest if it turns into something.”

Sophia gave her a sidelong glance. “She’s younger than your brother.”

“And yet she asked you better questions than most men twice her age,” Lara replied dryly.

Sophia let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You should’ve gone into politics.”

“And you should’ve gone to therapy.”

They both laughed this time.

But even after Lara left, Sophia stayed on the porch for a long while. Watching the swing set. Listening to the quiet. Feeling something she didn’t want to name tug gently at the edge of her chest.

main | next

[ronintheatrecollabrative]

Nora Helmer (Played by Melody Knudson @melodyreneek ) has been hiding something. A secret that once exposed, could ruin the perfect world her Husband has made for her and their children. Who can Nora trust? What will she do to keep her family? When will everyone finally stop leering at her?

The Ibsen classic as you’ve never seen it before. “a Doll’s House”. Opening 7/31 at The Irish Cultural Center @az_irish_center_and_library

Melody Knudson (Nora Helmer) An Arizona native, Melody has been performing since the age of three when she made her stage debut in the title role in a backyard Christmas production of The Littlest Star. With a passion for all things theatre, Melody has collaborated with the Ronin Theater Company as an actor, costume designer, and assistant director.

Some of her favorite roles include Vanda in Venus in Fur (Ronin Theatre Company), Ophelia in Hamlet (Southwest Shakespeare Company), and Mash in Stupid Fucking Bird (Stray Cat Theatre Company). By day Melody works as a therapist, specializing in helping young adults who have experienced childhood trauma. Off stage she is an avid cupcake, baker, and a proud dog mom to three perfect angel babies.

"A DOLL'S HOUSE" Tickets - https://www.azirish.org/ronin-theatre/

[c-e-d-dreamer]

That's What Friends Are For

A/N: Sometimes the mask you wear is a baseball cap and fake glasses, am I right? 😉 Happy day 2 of @nestaarcheronweek! I hope everyone enjoys this fic that is just fun and vibes

Read on AO3

"And according to his bio, he's some sort of professional athlete. A hockey player."

"What? No way!" Emerie snatches the phone clean out of Gwyn's hand before she seems to register and words and tone, halting her movements and offering the redhead a sheepish smile. "Not saying that you couldn't bag an athlete. We all know you're hot shit."

"Nice save," Nesta mutters into her wine glass.

"I'm just saying," Emerie continues, slowly emphasizing her words and sending a good-natured glare in Nesta's direction. "That Washington Capitals players don't exactly go around sliding into people's DM's every day."

"He said he liked my singing videos that I post," Gwyn explains, biting her lip and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. But there seems to be no stopping the smile that tugs across Gwyn's face, the soft pink that spills across her cheeks and over her freckles.

The whole display has Nesta grabbing Gwyn's phone out of Emerie's hand. If this man has her friend reacting like this, practically a blushing school girl again, she needs to see what he looks like. Nesta looks at the screen, at the Instagram profile currently pulled up and displayed there, but Nesta has to admit she's somewhat disappointed at what she sees. This Azriel's entire feed seems to be mostly promotional shots of him in his hockey jersey, of him on the ice, and official graphics clearly made by a marketing team. And when she scrolls a bit further, all she finds are a few golf Reels.

Nesta quickly scrolls back up to the top of his profile, clicking the most recent official team headshot, at least giving her a good look at the man's face. His expression in the photo is giving a bit broody, but even Nesta can admit he's certainly attractive. His face is all cutting lines, a sharp jawline, and high cheekbones. And his eyes are a dark hazel practically piercing right through the camera lens. With the dark strands of his hair tousled just perfectly to fall across his forehead, he looks more like a model than a professional athlete.

Emerie hums, leaning closer to Nesta and peering over her shoulder. "I have no idea who that man is."

Nesta scoffs, shoving Emerie out of her space. "You don't even watch hockey."

"I watch the PWHL. You know, where all the hot players are."

The comment draws an easy laugh from Gwyn, and Nesta rolls her eyes, finally returning their friend's phone to her. "You were saying? He slid into your DM's?"

"Right. Anyways, so he said he liked my singing videos, and when I saw in his bio that he's a hockey player, I wasn't sure at first, but then we started talking, and we've basically been messaging for like a month now? And now he wants to meet for real, for a date."

"Look at our little Gwynie go," Emerie comments, holding up her glass of wine in a cheers and wiping away a fake tear from her cheek.

"You know, if the date goes well," Nesta offers, biting back a smirk. "You could become a WAG."

"Seriously, Nesta?"

"What? I follow a few on Instagram, and their weddings are always gorgeous. Straight out of a fairytale, disgustingly ornate, and every girl's dream," Nesta explains easily, taking a sip of her own wine. She thinks wistfully back to that one series of wedding photos she saw, all the gorgeous, white flowers in full bloom, the large wedding arch with the mountains providing the perfect backsplash just behind. "I mean athletes have no brains and all that money, so they just say yes to everything their wife wants. Ideal situation, honestly."

"Maybe you should date an athlete and become a WAG then," Gwyn suggests, voice lilting with teasing notes.

"Did you miss where I said no brains? Can you seriously imagine me with an athlete?"

~ * * * ~

Nesta shifts slightly against the cushions of the sofa, burying her legs deeper beneath the blankets. She quickly turns the page of the book in her hand, to the next chapter, excited to discover what sort of fall out will come from the main love interest's secret finally coming to light. Will she forgive him? Will he grovel?

"How do you think it's going?"

Nesta looks up from the pages, finding Emerie now leaning over the back of the sofa, a mug of tea cradled between her hands. "Gwyn's date?"

"Maybe we should go down there and check on her, just to be sure."

"Em…"

"What if he's a creep? I mean she did meet him on Instagram. What if he's secretly not who he says he is?"

Nesta doesn't bother holding back her surprised laugh at that. "His account is literally verified."

Emerie tilts her head, conceding the point, but when she meets Nesta's gaze again, a smirk starts to tug up the side of her lips, brown eyes practically flaring beneath their apartment lights. It's Nesta's only warning for the words that spill from her friend's lips, the words that would have her closing her book with a quiet snap.

"Don't you want to ensure Gwyn gets a WAG wedding for you to live vicariously through?"

"Let me change."

The bar and restaurant is close enough to the apartment that it doesn't take long before Nesta and Emerie are walking through the doors with their arms linked. Pink cherry blossom flowers hang in clusters from the ceiling, adding to the bright, spring elements of the place. It pairs well with the floral wallpaper, with the gallery wall of art and photos, the whole place a perfect place for a first date.

Nesta's eyes sweep over the different tables, over all the different people and couples, until she spots a familiar head of red hair. The man sitting across from Gwyn certainly matches the photos on his Instagram, strands of dark hair messy but artfully falling across his forehead, a pair of hazel eyes seemingly enraptured and pinned on where Gwyn is laughing easily at something said. He looks almost out of place amongst the bright pink flowers, dressed in all black with a leather jacket pulled on over his form fitting shirt despite the warm, spring weather.

"Come on," Emerie says, tugging Nesta away by their joined arms. "We'll have the best view without being spotted on this side of the bar."

The bar is mostly full, but Nesta spots two open seats near the end, just one lone guy sitting there. Even from behind, Nesta can tell that the man is huge, large shoulders stretching the fabric of the henley he's currently wearing and long legs hanging all the way to the floor despite the tall bar seats. There's a baseball cap poised atop his head, his dark hair tugged back in a bun that sticks out the back of it.

"Excuse me," Nesta starts when they reach the open seats. "Is anyone sitting here?"

The man turns his head, and Nesta gets her first look at his face. At the white stitched emblem of the Washington Spirit on his baseball cap. At a kaleidoscope of greens and golds that make up a pair of bright hazel eyes. At dark wire glasses framing those eyes. At stubble lining the man's cheeks and jawline. His gaze sweeps down and up again, a slow and leisurely perusal of her, before an easy, cocksure smile tugs across his face.

"You are now," he tells her, his voice low and smooth.

Nesta rolls her eyes as the blatant flirtation beneath his words, but she slides into the open seat all the same. Emerie works on flagging down the bartender to order them drinks, so Nesta leans forward over the bar, craning her head enough that she has the perfect view of Gwyn and her date again.

"Are you looking for someone?" the man asks, drawing Nesta's attention back to him. "Please don't tell me you're waiting on a hot date."

"If you must know," Nesta bites out with a scowl, looking back toward Gwyn's table. "We're here to check on our friend. She's on a first date and we're making sure he isn't a creep."

The man hums, turning his own head and looking over the tables. "Who's the lucky couple?"

"The red head," Emerie chimes in to answer. "That's our friend Gwyn."

Nesta continues to watch the date unfolding across the bar and restaurant, but it's hard not to frown with each moment that passes. Gwyn is no longer laughing like before. In fact, from Nesta's vantage point, it doesn't look like her or Azriel are currently speaking. Instead, both seem intently focused on the drinks in front of them, Gwyn swirling her straw through the blue liquid in her glass.

"Why does it look so awkward over there?" Nesta asks, her frustration growing when Gwyn glances up toward her date, expression almost expectant, longing, but he keeps his own attention on his drink.

"Maybe he's shy."

Nesta turns to make a face at the man beside her, surprised he even said anything, before shifting fully in her seat toward Emerie. "We should send over a drink. Make him jealous."

"You seem awfully invested in your friend's date."

"Nesta is trying to ensure there's a WAG wedding she can live vicariously through," Emerie offers with a smirk, that smile only dropping a little when Nesta smacks her in the leg in retaliation.

"Is that so, Nesta?"

Nesta has to bite her lip and swallow hard against the shudder threatening to skitter up her spine. She's not sure she's ever heard her name said like that. The deep timbre of his voice and the way it curls around each syllable like smoke, it slinks through her veins like a tall, warm glass of whiskey.

"If you must know," Nesta begins, schooling her features and facing the man again. "They're gorgeous and extravagant, and I want to experience one. What's so wrong with that?"

The tone of Nesta's voice is challenging, her expression just as icy. She expects this man to finally leave them alone and go back to his own business, expects him to flee with his tail between his legs and maybe a muttered comment about her being a bitch just like every other man on the receiving end of that look. But instead a spark seems to flare in the man's hazel eyes, his smile only seeming to grow.

"Why not have your own WAG wedding?" the man asks.

"I would never date a professional athlete."

"And why is that?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?"

The man chuckles, the sound just as warm and deep as his voice. He leans forward over the bar, leans in so close that Nesta can practically count every golden fleck twinkling amongst the mazes of greens that make up his hazel eyes, until she notices the scar slashing through his right eyebrow right above the frame of his glasses.

"I'm sitting here alone at the bar, and you're beautiful," the man answers with a wink. "Can you blame me?"

"I don't even know you're name."

"It's Cassian."

He extends his hand across the bar to shake, and it's practically unfair, the large span of it. Nesta dares to slide her own hand into his, feeling the calluses on his palms sliding against her skin. His fingers close around her hand, his touch surprisingly warm, and Nesta almost has to remind herself to pull her hand away when the handshake has gone on long enough. Almost.

"And you should definitely send a drink over," Cassian continues, nodding his head sagely. "A guy that looks like that is probably used to being the hottest dude in the room, used to girls just falling at his feet. Especially if he's an athlete. So, it would definitely make him jealous."

Nesta rolls her eyes at that, but the comment draws an easy laugh from Emerie, her friend's entire face brightening in delight. She leans forward over the bar and raises her hand, making work to flag down their bartender again.

"Can you send a drink over to that table?" Emerie requests, pointing toward Gwyn's table. "To that girl specifically."

"Say it's from a secret admirer," Cassian adds eagerly.

"But don't say it's from over here."

The bartender looks less than impressed, so Nesta sighs softly. "We'll tip you really well."

It seems to be enough to appease the bartender, and he gets to work preparing a drink. Nesta, Emerie, and Cassian all watch with baited breath as the drink is taken over to the table. As their message is delivered and the glass is set down in front of Gwyn. As Gwyn glances around, pink overtaking her cheeks. As Azriel scowls, pointedly looking around the whole restaurant with an obvious glare, looking right toward the bar…

"Oh, shit," Emerie mutters, quickly ducking her head and pretending to look busy.

Nesta is quick to do the same, taking a pointed sip of her drink, but it seems Cassian didn't get the memo about being incognito. Instead, he meets Azriel's gaze head-on, practically grinning triumphantly.

"Did you just smile at him? He's going to think you sent his date a drink," Nesta hisses, smacking Cassian in the arm. She tries not to think about the fact it's solid muscle beneath her hand, about just how large his bicep is beneath the fabric of his henley.

"Let him," Cassian offers, shrugging a shoulder. "I think I can take him if he picks a fight. What do you think, sweetheart?"

"Oh, I think he could take him," Emerie echoes, her voice teasing and just teetering shy of sarcastic. "Now, let's order some food. I'm starving."

"We should get nachos."

Nesta doesn't bother biting back her surprised laugh. "We?"

Despite her protests, Nesta soon ends up with plates of appetizers to share in front of her, and soon after that, another round of drinks. She wants to hate how magnetic this Cassian is, how he asks Emerie and Nesta about themselves and seems to genuinely care about their answers. She wants to hate how he seems to delight when she dares to throw anything at him, rising to meet her every quip like it's some sort of game.

She wants to hate that his bright hazel eyes, his warm laugh, and his stupid glasses and baseball hat are doing it for her.

"You know what would be really funny?" Emerie begins, reaching forward to snag another bite of food. "We send someone over to the table to ask for a picture. But not with him. With Gwyn."

"Oh, that's good," Cassian agrees, grinning widely. "He's probably so used to people asking for pictures with him. It will drive him mad."

"They can say that they're a fan of Gwyn's singing videos."

"And who's going to go over there?" Nesta points out. "Gwyn will obviously recognize both of us, and Cassian over here already made eye contact after the drink."

"We pay someone," Emerie suggests, already spinning in her seat to scan the seats immediately around them. "Do you have any cash?"

"What kind of person carries around cash these days?"

"I do," Cassian offers brightly, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

Cassian produces a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, and Emerie is quick to lean over the bar and Nesta to snatch it from between his fingers. She slips off her bar seat and practically skips away, clearly having identified the victim she's hoping to convince to join their plan. Leaving Nesta alone at the bar with Cassian.

"We'll pay you back."

"Don't worry about it, Nes. I'm more than happy to help. I'm invested now."

"Don't call me that," Nesta snaps, turning in her bar seat to face him completely. "It's Nesta. Nes-ta."

Cassian's grin twists into a smirk. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. Just trying to ensure you get that WAG wedding of yours."

Nesta rolls her eyes with a soft sigh. "You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"What can I say," Cassian says, his hazel eyes practically simmering as he reaches toward Nesta's face, twirling a strand of hair that's fallen from her up-do around his finger. "I think you'd look amazing in white."

"I wouldn't be wearing white," Nesta reminds him, smacking his hand away.

"The deed is done," Emerie announces, returning to the bar. "And I got her number. This is going to be too good."

All three of them watch as a pretty woman with white hair braided back and falling along her spine strides across the restaurant. She walks over to the table, putting on a wide smile and her best act as she talks and gushes to Gwyn. She pulls out her phone, and Nesta has to cover her mouth to hide her snort when the woman holds it out for Azriel without a second glance.

"Look at his face," Cassian says through a laugh.

Azriel certainly looks less than impressed with the turn of events, but he takes the phone, snapping a picture of them. The woman walks away after the photo is taken, offering Emerie a smirk and a wink as she strolls past the bar and back toward her own table. When they're finally alone again, Azriel leans in closer to Gwyn to say something.

"Do you think he's asking her if she wants to get out of here?" Nesta asks.

"If Gwyn's lucky," Emerie offers, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Azriel pushes up from his seat and the table, but Gwyn doesn't make any move to stand, and instead of heading toward the door, his strides take him way across the restaurant. Toward the bar.

"Why the fuck is he coming over here?" Nesta hisses, ducking her head to avoid eye contact.

"I think the bathroom's are over here, but besides, he doesn't know us, so it's not like he would recognize us," Emerie says, but she matches Nesta's movements all the same, focusing hard on stirring the ice at the bottom of her drink.

"Is this supposed to be a disguise?" a deep voice asks from behind them.

Nesta's heart stops beating for a moment. She whips around, and sure enough, Azriel is now standing right behind them, in all his model athlete glory, but his attention isn't on Nesta or Emerie.

"I thought the glasses and baseball cap were perfect," Cassian says, shoving at Azriel good-naturedly, clearly friendly with the other man.

"All that's missing is a fake mustache."

"Next time."

"Whatever, idiot," Azriel tells him, his voice quietly teasing as he turns to continue toward the bathrooms. "See you at practice tomorrow."

"Practice?" Nesta blurts out before she can stop herself, her jaw slackening as she looks toward Cassian with wide eyes.

Cassian chuckles a bit self-deprecatingly, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "Sorry. Didn't I mention? Az and I are teammates."

"You're a Washington Capital too?" Emerie asks, caught between shock and laughing.

Cassian shrugs off the question easily, turning his attention fully back to Nesta. He leans in close to her again, throwing his arm along the back of her bar seat, practically caging her in with his large frame and warmth, trapping her in his orbit. He has that same lopsided smile he's practically been wearing the whole time stretched across his face, but it's softer somehow.

"What do you say, Nes? You. Me. Dinner. We won't tell these fuckers where, so they can't return the favor, and in a year's time we can make sure you get that WAG wedding."

—

2025 tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed; bolded names mean Tumblr won’t let me tag you 🥲): @moodymelanist @sv0430 @bookstantrash @hiimheresworld @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @glowing-stick-generation @goddess-aelin @melphss @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @wolfnesta @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @that-little-red-head @kale-theteaqueen @superflurry @lady-winter-sunrise @freakingata @susanbanarchy @jsmelodies @unhealthyfanobsession @presskmewleroux @nativeswfl @livinforthetea @dying-of-wanderlust @berkskc @the-new-ribbon @underneath-the-sidras @deadandsane

[tawnysoup]

Comms: CLOSED

EDIT: I got a few so I'm closing for now so I don't get overwhelmed! Thank you if you expressed interest or reblogged! And if you sent a DM and haven't had a reply yet, then bare with me as I get to you.

---

Opening commissions for a little bit to help with money troubles. I don't rly have a proper sheet for this but my current rates are like so (assume everything is cleaned and coloured but not shaded):

Headshot/bust: $25 each

Fullbody: $35 each

Sketchpage/comic page: assuming a combo of around 7 headshots+fullbodies, roughly $170

Animation: highly depends, around $10 per frame for rough and $20 per frame for cleaned. So an anim like Looplet Air Biscuits would be $160 (8 frames + cleaned), or it would be $80 if rough+uncoloured.

I can do ISAT fanart, OCs, humans and animals (or anything between), and I'm cool with stuff like gore but no other nsfw. My comms can be used for non-profit purposes such as pfps, page decoration, phone backgrounds, etc. I take payment upfront and use paypal. If you're interested, shoot me a DM! Price will vary a little depending on simplicity/complexity and I'll give you a quote. If I'm uncomfortable with the subject matter I might refuse the comm, but we can discuss alternatives. I'll probably close comms again after 2 or 3 slots (check the status in my bio to see if I'm still open).

Some examples are under the read-more~

Headshots:

Fullbodies:

No sketchpage examples bc they're all spoiler-heavy lol

Animations:

[bazookaboi]

Just some school doodles today.

DRAWING I] Still trying to figure a better design for my Ivilitium aerius and getting used to drawing more realistic proportions. Headshot of one with short, spiky head plates. (Feathers???) I was also experimenting with their “teeth” arrangement. (Beak? Bony plates?) oh, and I was thinking about giving them tongue barbs.

DRAWING II] Simply my spec bio sona sketched in my more angular style. He fluffs up when feeling certain emotions.

DRAWING III] Niko in my angular style sprinting. He can’t move his “hands” upwards (dorsiflex) as much as a human. If you are curious as to why, tell me and I can explain in a separate post. :]

Oh, and also- I have a question for you guys: (It’s Related to my genus, Ivilitium)

Do you think having nares like in the placement shown down below would be biologically efficient?

Smells would still be detected more towards the facial area, though. So this still gives the appearance that they have nostrils in a more familiar placing to what we see here on Earth in many vertebrates.

[darkopsiian]

Hey bagel bites, have you ever wanted the Opsiian Original lizards plastered on your laptop, wall, xbox, face, or various fruits? The Lizard Rumble collection offers small chibi cutie patootie headshots of all 27 custom lizards that have made an appearance, even the DrMOTH bio-lizards are available. Each individual pack comes with 4 lizards, these designs are only available as stickers. They are on sale for the next 12 hours. All of my designs are only available at Teepublic.com/DarksOpsiian.

[princeoferror]

Kohga Slay

Would Kohga love or hate me for doing this-?

Commission info | Buy a Print! | portfolio | Twitter | insta | Discord server

Progress pics below!

Sketch:

I've been using Pinterest for finding poses a lot at the moment so I wanted to use a very confident fashionable reference. I was only going to put him in the dress but since the lady in my reference image is wearing heels I gave Kohga some very stylish banana heels.

Line art:

I always struggle to say much for line art cuz it's the exact same process every time.

Flats:

I did yet again steal all these colours from concept art- I might need to start using my own colours but colour picking is so much easierrr- ok fine I promise in the next piece I do I'll get my own colours so I can grow as an artist or whatever-

Finished render:

Moving into the rendering I wanted two light sources to push the form, very similar to studio lighting as if he was doing a model shoot. So there's the bigger light off to the left then a small light on the right so I can do some rim lighting. Rim lighting can often be a quick and easy way to add more form into a piece if it's looking a little flat.

I'm so happy with how this piece turned out, my favorite thing is the raw attitude Kohga is giving, he is so confident and serving looks in this outfit. Of course he's still wearing his uniform underneath he's got a Repuation to uphold! Wouldn't want to look like an idiot now.

If you'd want a physical copy of this you can get one at my inprnt page!

After this I'm going to be working on different art to use for examples on my commission sheet. So the next post should be some headshots; I never realized how I tend to only draw full bodys.

And speaking of my commissions are open, all the info can be found through the link in my bio or just shoot me a message :3

Oki see u next week byeee

[razzafrazzle]

quick lil icon i made for my character on ximboland since my bio was a lil Barren

[image description: a headshot drawing of an original character named frost bite, a light-blue skinned humanoid with pointy ears and short light blue hair. he also has gold eyeshadow and piercings, as well as a gold leaf garland in his hair. end id]