Because Posting On Instagram Doesn’t Feel Safe From Judgment, Here’s My Drawing Of My Favorite Bastard,

acne + scratch marks

you know you’re a writer when…

you spend 30 minutes choosing the perfect synonym for “said” only to change it back to “said.”

you google “how long does it take to bleed out” at 3 a.m. and now the FBI is probably watching you.

you write one sentence, stare at it, rewrite it 14 times, and somehow end up back at the original version.

“this scene is so important” but you have no idea what the scene actually is or why it’s important.

you come up with the best story ideas… in the shower… with no way to write them down.

your characters feel like real people but also you’re like “who are these guys and what do they want from me?”

your brain says “start writing!” but instead you reorganize your desk, reread your notes, and spend two hours naming a side character who shows up once.

you’ve cried over your WIP exactly 67 times and will do it again because the pain is the point.

you reread something you wrote and think, “wow, did i peak as a writer three months ago?”

every writing session begins with the sacred ritual of scrolling social media, opening unnecessary tabs, and procrastinating until panic sets in.

you have no idea how long a chapter should be, so you just… vibe.

you can’t watch tv or movies without mentally critiquing the plot, dialogue, and pacing.

your writing playlist is 98% vibes, 2% songs you’ll actually listen to while writing.

you keep a “murder notebook” but swear it’s not suspicious because it’s for your novel (probably).

the phrase “just one more draft” is your eternal mantra, even though you’ve rewritten this thing more times than you can count.

Word Count:.. too long..:10811. Title: “All Bets Are Off.” (Thank you for the title and the fic graphic, @theeironprice!! You’re the absolute bestest!!) Modern AU, Rodeo Thramsay. It’s Thramsay… but they’re both competing in a rodeo. The most lighthearted I have ever written… but it’s still Thramsay. Rating: Explicit. For downright raunchiness. Link if you wanna see where this strange tale takes us: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/62885251"

Theon examined the bottom of Smiler’s hoof with a practiced eye. The frog looked well-formed still, his flare of thrush seeming to have receded fully after the regular treatments.

Smiler shifted against his shoulder, strong muscles quivering beneath smooth, sleek hair.

“Easy,” Theon soothed, reaching to run a hand across the underside of his horse’s stomach in hopes of comforting him. “Almost done.”

Before he could even reach for his hoof pick, a harsh, stinging smack to his right ass cheek nearly had him sprawled face-first into the dung-covered dirt.

He dropped Smiler’s foot abruptly in a way he never normally would, but the force of the slap, even through his riding breeches, had him staggering forward with a yelp.

With his left hand braced on his horse’s flank, he quickly regained his balance. He stood motionless for a moment in stunned disbelief and resolved that whoever had the nerve to do that, had approximately three seconds to cobble together a fantastic reason, before his fist made its connection with their face.

“Need some help?” A voice all but purred from close behind him.

Wait… he knew that voice.

Shit fucker.

He turned around and sure enough, Ramsay Bolton. Clad in his blue jeans, rough leather chaps and light pink button-up shirt. Half the buttons were left open showcasing thick dark hair painted across his broad chest. Long, black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. A signature teasing smirk curling half of his thick lips.

Theon fought to stifle his groan. He had gotten his hopes up that Ramsay wouldn’t be at this rodeo- he hadn’t seen his name on any of the sign-in sheets.

“What are you doing here?”

Ramsay raised his brows, his expression sardonic. “Well, you may be aware that this is a competition, and I happen to be a top competitor in it.”

“I mean harassing me in my horse’s stall, obviously,” Theon snapped, irritation thick in his tone.

The larger man put on an exaggerated, faux-wounded expression and placed a hand on his chest. “‘Harassing’? I only came to wish you luck.”

“Well, you have now, so goodbye.” Theon made a point to turn his back, pick up a curry comb and start brushing the dirt off Smiler. It was pointless; he took immaculate care of him and nary a speck of dust could be brought up. He just needed something to occupy himself with and make it look like he was busy.

He jumped and dropped the comb when a large hand cupped his ass, spanning almost all the way across the entirety of it. Fingers dug into his flesh, kneading, and bringing a throbbing warmth to the sore, abused cheek.

Theon shied away, pulling free of the grip and turning a glare on Ramsay. “Don’t touch me.”

The other man cocked his head, an amused, if slightly incredulous look on his face. “We’ve fucked, and you have a problem with me touching your ass?”

“First of all,” Theon said, drawing himself up with as much dignity as he could muster, “we fucked once, and it was only because I was drunk, and you took advantage.” He walked over to his black English saddle with gold accents, hefting it easily. “It hurt to take a shit for a week after, in case you were wondering.” Ignoring the other man’s snicker at that, he tossed the saddle onto Smiler’s back and began fastening the girth and breast collar. “Second,” he purposely kept his back to Ramsay, “you didn’t just ‘touch,’ you hit me.”

“It was a love-tap.”

“It. Hurt,” Theon grit out.

“Aw, want me to kiss it better?” He sounded far too eager for that; Theon could picture his eyes lighting up.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Your loss,” Ramsay hummed.

Theon examined the bottom of Smiler’s hoof with a practiced eye. The frog looked well-formed still, his flare of thrush seeming to have receded fully after the regular treatments.

Smiler shifted against his shoulder, strong muscles quivering beneath smooth, sleek hair.

“Easy,” Theon soothed, reaching to run a hand across the underside of his horse’s stomach in hopes of comforting him. “Almost done.”

Before he could even reach for his hoof pick, a harsh, stinging smack to his right ass cheek nearly had him sprawled face-first into the dung-covered dirt.

He dropped Smiler’s foot abruptly in a way he never normally would, but the force of the slap, even through his riding breeches, had him staggering forward with a yelp.

With his left hand braced on his horse’s flank, he quickly regained his balance. He stood motionless for a moment, and resolved that whoever had the nerve to do that, had approximately three seconds to come up with a fantastic reason, before his fist met their face.

“Need some help?” A voice all but purred from close behind him.

Wait… he knew that voice.

Shit fucker.

He turned around and sure enough; Ramsay Bolton. Clad in his blue jeans, rough leather chaps and light pink button up shirt. Half the buttons were left open showcasing thick dark hair painted across his broad chest. Long, black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. A signature teasing smirk curling half of his thick lips.

Theon fought to stifle his groan. He’d gotten his hopes up that Ramsay wouldn’t be at this rodeo- he hadn’t seen his name on any of the sign-in sheets.

“What are you doing here?”

Ramsay raised his brows, his expression sardonic. “Well, you may be aware that this is a competition, and I happen to be a top competitor in it.”

“I mean harassing me in my horse’s stall, obviously,” Theon snapped, irritation thick in his tone.

The larger man put on an exaggerated, faux-wounded expression. “‘Harassing’? I only came to wish you luck.”

“Well, you did, so goodbye.” Theon made a point to turn his back, pick up a curry comb and start brushing the dirt off of Smiler’s back. It was pointless; he took immaculate care of him and nary a speck of dust could be brought up. He just needed something to occupy himself with and make it look like he was busy.

He jumped and dropped the comb when a large hand cupped his ass, spanning almost all the way across the entirety of it. Fingers dug into his flesh, kneading and bringing a throbbing warmth to the sore, abused cheek.

Theon shied away, pulling free of the grip and turning a glare on Ramsay. “Don’t touch me.”

The other man cocked his head, an amused, if slightly incredulous look on his face. “We’ve fucked, and you have a problem with me touching your ass?”

“First of all,” Theon said, drawing himself up with as much dignity as he could muster, “we fucked once, and it was only because I was drunk and you took advantage.” He walked over to his black English saddle with gold accents, hefting it easily. “It hurt to take a shit for a week, in case you were wondering.” Ignoring the other man’s snicker at that, he tossed the saddle onto Smiler’s back and began fastening the girth and breast collar. “Second,” he purposely kept his back to Ramsay, “you didn’t just ‘touch’, you hit me.”

“It was a love-tap.”

“It. Hurt,” Theon grit out.

“Aw, want me to kiss it better?” He sounded far too eager for that; Theon could picture his eyes lighting up.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Your loss,” Ramsay hummed.

Are you kidding?? And with Walda and Roose there??? I canNOT contain my excitement. Sequel to one of my all-time favorite Thramsay oneshots. Been dreaming about a continuation for it, istg.

[ Plush (Sequel to Creep) - WIP Snippet ]

WIP WORD TRAIN

Rules: Tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word you share an excerpt from your WIPs that starts with that letter.

Tagged by: @pseudonym-s

Thank you for the tag! I know I’m really late, but life has been a mess. This was so fun though:))

(A tiny bit of nsfw-ish beneath the cut)

C

Certain now that Ramsay wouldn’t give him what he really craved, Theon resigned himself to his fate and continued allowing the other man to feed him without a fight.

“You’re so cute when you’re dejected, you know,” Ramsay said, his voice and gaze genuinely, annoyingly fond.

Theon frowned, but took the next bite anyway; too tired to argue anymore.

As soon as the morsel passed his lips, the grip was back, holding tightly to his base.

He nearly choked on his mouthful as Ramsay resumed stroking him with quick, rough movements.

R

Ramsay whispered, “What could you do to stop me right now if you actually wanted me to?”

U

Unlike every other morning he had woken up after a night of drinking, something was off about this instance. His body felt weighted down and lethargic as if his muscles had been repeatedly pounded with a meat cleaver. A sharp stinging in a place he had never felt hurt in such a way before…

E

“Exactly; we’re not kids. So let’s not act like it.” Robb’s gaze and tone were calmly stern. It was clear he was attempting to be firm without starting an argument. He had always been good at keeping his temper in check.

Unlike Theon.

L

look was warped with something startlingly close to malice.

“For the same reason you chain up an unruly dog; to teach it a lesson.”

Through the embarrassment and discomfort, that phrasing brought Theon’s hackles up the smallest bit.

“I don’t need to be ‘taught a lesson’ from you.”

All the snippets are from my wip; Place Your Bets.

Anybody that wants to share their works (even if you already have) PLEASE DO!! I need to see more of y’all’s wonderful writing🥺

Let’s go!! Better drop whatever you’re doing, cause we got a new chapter!!

The new chapter of my Blockbuster employee Theon x Ramsay fic For Rent is up! This chapter was originally meant to be apart of the last one but—

✨I ran out of time so this part is late✨

Text:

For once, Theon's not dreading going to work, despite having to stay late to do inventory.

The trip with Ramsay had been great, but since he had moved in, they'd spent nearly every waking moment together, and god, he just needed a break.

And he may or may not be looking forward to bragging about the trip.

He is. He definitely is. Finally something to shove in their faces.

Though he was mildly excited at the prospect of his shift, he still pulls into the parking lot ten minutes past his intended start time. He jogs over to the front door, the familiar chime making him feel bright and alert instead of irritated and disgruntled.

The familiar scent of popcorn just barely masking the scent of musty carpet wafts into his nose, and the fluorescent light washes over him with an unusually soft glow. To some extent, walking into the Blockbuster felt like coming home.

Seriously. I have never before cared so much about Jaime or Cersei until after seeing Poly’s work, and especially this fantastic art! How can you not want to know more about these characters?? I guess that’s just what a great artist’s work will do to you…

Of course theeironprice has the biggest brain ideas, always. Absolutely no surprise there! I am so beyond stoked!! Little kid me would be sobbing rn.

The twins are still twinin’ in the Wild West au I promise.