Seriously. I Have Never Before Cared So Much About Jaime Or Cersei Until After Seeing Poly’s Work,

The biggest confidence boost is knowing that even my shittiest fanfic will be 10,000% better than any AI generated bullshit

Seriously. Where’s the hype for Thramsay? Feel like it’s not what it used to be😭

I hate how fandom has become "if you haven't created anything in this very specific time frame after the release of the show/movie, everyone will have moved on"

And call me old fashioned, but that's just not me. I sometimes take ages to create and publish. And I will love a show or movie for such a long time (years, babes, years) that I just can't relate to the fast consumerism that's going on.

Because, let's be real, it can get really lonely in a fandom if most have simply moved on to the next shiny thing. Is what's created less worth, just because it was created outside the hype? Why is it such a taboo for this new fandom generation to love an old or "late" fic or art?

It's so tiring and I'm too old for the 30-seconds-hype-tiktok-shit. Just tired. So, so tired.

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.

acne + scratch marks

Hmmmmg, it was spectacular. Absolute must read. *Especially* if you love For Rent, as you should. But regardless, give it a go. You won’t be disappointed.

Happy (late) Valentine’s Day ♥️ Because Ramsay couldn’t be normal and celebrate the holiday on the actual day

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63107371

Preview text:

At the door, the girls ambush him; whatever meat had gotten on the pizza and the wings were making them especially rowdy. Theon’s grown used to the dogs knocking into him; he knew just how to brace his knees so that they don’t push him over in their excitement. When he’d first visited, their owner had made some flimsy attempt at calling them off; now he did no such thing.

It’s as if Theon was just another one of his bitches.

Toeing off his sneakers, he takes the few stairs up to the living room and finds The X Files playing on the TV. “Took you long enough,” Ramsay says in lieu of a greeting. “I was getting hungry,” he complains.

“You’re always hungry,” Theon reminds him, setting the boxes on the coffee table's edge. Ramsay shoots him an annoyed look, not much liking the response.

There’s a variety of things spread out over the wood. “What’s going on here?” Theon asks. There’s a packed bong with sparkling clean water, an obnoxious amount of candy, two champagne flutes and a VHS box 💞

This artist is so talented😩 I love their work so much!!

Selkie Theon AU. Snippet below the cut.

The waves lapped at the shore, mere inches from Theon’s toes. He watched from his place on the beach, arms wrapped around his legs, chin rested on his bony knees, unable to look away from the grey water that stretched serene and peaceful to the horizon. The distant cawing of seabirds echoed across the waves in the early morning. They taunted him with their songs and harsh voices more mocking than that of his master.

Theon pushed that thought far into the back of his worn mind. Now was not the time for thinking of him. Now was not the time to bemoan what might have been. Now was the time for dreaming of what was. When he’d been a selkie.

A frown tightened his lips. He was still a selkie.

Although his pelt may now belong forever to his tormentor—lover—and kept permanently out of his reach, it changed nothing. The place Theon would truly always belong, was to the ocean. His ties to it were strong, the pull of them unbreakable. A constant presence in his being that was as unyielding as the moon and the tide, urging him to find his way back home.

Except he would never be permitted to answer its call.

Worst pain

a fictional man: *is kinda fucked up*

me: i want him so bad