WIP WORD TRAIN

I will not rest until this fic gets its proper due. It is so good!!!🥺💞 If you love Thramsay, this is an absolute must read. And if you just want a good story about characters with questionable morals, spiciness, phenomenal characterization, stellar relationships, relatability and a fantastic premise… This has everything you need. Read it now, you will not be disappointed.

New chapter of my Blockbuster Thramsay AU ‘For Rent’ is up! ⭐️

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59310016/chapters/163471921

I’m not the most jazzed by this fic graphic but I found the Blockbuster employee training manual on the internet archives and I wanted to try and use it 🥺

I’m out of town for a few more days!! But as soon as I’m back I’ll be replying to comments~

Preview:

“You’re home early,” Ramsay comments as the younger man stalks over to the kitchen. The lack of greeting irks him, but interest in Theon being home so early overrides his desire to scold his pet.

A crisp ‘pop’ of a tab punching a hole in a can echoes from the adjacent room, and then Theon returns. Ramsay watches the muscles in his neck squirm as he takes a long, dramatic gulp of his beer. “I got fucking fired.”

Ramsay shoots up and practically skips over to Theon. His sea-blue eyes are brimming with salty tears—if they fall, he doubts he’ll be able to stop himself from licking them up. The redness of his waterline tells him that he’s already shed a few tears on the drive home. Maybe he’d even cried in the store; the mental image delights him.

do u think jaime is the only one who (outside of wet nurses) picked tyrion up to comfort him? do u think he put tyrion on his shoulders to make him feel tall? did jaime run tyrions legs for him when he was having a bad pain day??? Do you think that, warped by cersei and tywin as he was, loves and cherishes his little brother? He doesn't see a monster that's his little buddy 🥺

Wait no wait wait hold on wait—

they are brothers. They love each other. They are best friends. They are the only ones who care about each other. Tyrion is the ONLY one who doesn’t want anything from Jaime, and Tyrion is the only one who truly loves Jaime. And Jaime doesn’t even know how much he loves Tyrion, as well.

They’re both emotionally crippled because of the trauma of their family. It doesn’t matter if you’re the Golden Child, First Born, Heir to Casterly Rock, or if you’re the monster who killed his mother and failed to uphold the family name. The burden is the same weight, and it’s so heavy that both of them were crushed beneath it.

I’m not crying. I’m fine. I’m fine. 🙂 I’m tot🙂ally 🙂 fin e.

Also yeah Jaime totally did physical therapy with tyrion sorry that’s canon georhshhe told me so

[ Local Maul - WIP Snippet ]

Um. So uh. I'm writing the Modern AU where Ramsay, Theon and Myssa work at the mall. Myssa's at Hot Topic and the boys are at Spencer's. Here's a snippet of Myssa introducing Jeyne to her morbid fiction game. (Spoiler alert, but Myssa and Jeyne will never be friends in any universe. Sorry not sorry. But I live for their misaligned interactions.)

Myssa nodded towards the Spencer’s, where Mr. Canines’ dirty blond friend was positioning a promotional sign just outside the store’s entrance. His jeans were way too tight and his black long sleeved tee looked like it had seen better days, even from a distance. By how faded it was, she recognized it as the one that had Cthulhu on the front.

“That guy,” she began, staring at him intently while he tripped over the corner of the sign’s metal stand and looked around to see if anyone noticed. “Goes to buy weed from his regular dealer but it’s a setup. Escapes the cops on foot but hops the wrong fence. Two massive dogs defending their yard chase him, bite the shit out of his leg. He’s bleeding, stumbling, jumps the next fence, slips on his own blood and falls into the neighbor’s pool. Only it’s still covered and his weight makes him sink, water flooding in, drowning him kicking and screaming and tangling himself to death.”

“Theon?” Jeyne burst out laughing. “Honestly, you might not be far off.”

Myssa turned her attention back to her coworker. “You know him?”

“Yeah, he’s my best friend’s foster brother. Or, uh, he was. Before he turned eighteen and he got kicked out for stealing Mr. Stark’s beer.” She looked thoughtful and laughed again. “You know, he’s more likely to die from getting too drunk at the river and falling in. Not exciting, but realistic. I mean, hardly anyone has a pool around here.”

Myssa shifted her jaw and grabbed a pen from the counter to jab at the notepad beside the POS. Of course Jeyne would ruin the game by being “realistic” about it. That wasn’t the point at all. That was boring.

“Fine.” Myssa directed her glare at Theon’s back as he headed into the opposite store. “How about he tries to blow himself upside down on his couch. Cums in his throat and aspirates to death on his own jizz.”

“Oh my god, you are vile,” Jeyne said and burst out laughing so hard she slapped her manicured hand on the counter. She nodded furiously, pigtails waving. “Yes. One hundred percent. You have him pegged.”

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.

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.

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.

I can’t handle looking at this for more than a few seconds at a time. Feels too real and I’m simply in awe🥺❤️💗❤️ Look at their art! It is all so beautiful! And TY, TY, TY!!

All bets are off, art from my favorite part of the fic! (All of it’s my fav but this part was good!

Fic by @dauthdaert-the-orchid

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62885251

Everyone needs more cat hybrid Ramsay in their life. Whether you realize it yet or not, you’ll want more after this read.💝

Im a bit late to the WIP word train but I finally had a draft I could use for it 🎀 I was tagged by @liocreates and the word was flay!

This little snippet is from part two of my silly lil’ cat hybrid Ramsay AU~

The pictures a bit hard to read so here is the text plus some extra:

As Theon stretches the hem of the sweater down, his mouth goes dry. It’s much tighter than it had been.

Through the maroon knit, every curve and bulge of Ramsay’s body is on display. It’s sinfully tight around his chest, highlighting the suppleness. The fabric is fighting to contain his girth.

Frowning, Theon tries to tug at the sweater to stop it from clinging to him; only there’s not enough give to make a difference. Last time he’d wrangled Ramsay into wearing it, it had fit him just fine. Apparently the garment had shrunk in the wash.

‘You know it didn’t shrink,’ Theon’s brain whispers to him. With a dry swallow, he takes a step back and helps the hybrid off the couch.

Getting pants on Ramsay is a pain—he has to be careful with his pet's tail or he’ll see his blood spilt. Working the fabric up gently, Theon finds himself running into a similar issue as he had with the sweater.

It barely fits.

Seal