Latest Posts by dauthdaert-the-orchid - Page 2

5 Pieces of Media to Describe Me

Thank you for the tag @5005weep and @pseudonym-s !! So fun!

Tagging @cola-fiend @theeironprice No pressure! I’d love to see y’all’s picks though<33

acne + scratch marks

Um, my eyes have been blessed this day🥺❤️💝The detail here is astounding and I am so beyond touched and grateful.

from @dauthdaert-the-orchid fic all bets are off!!

I loved the story and it's setting, the descriptions, and god! the characterisation was on point! Definitely a big fan so I thought what can I do to show my love? 🤔

Draw! So I did Ramsay riding his bull, because it was one of my fav parts (and I love drawing animals)

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.

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.

the sketch from my old blog that i sadly imprisoned

Place Your Bets

There was a soft ‘tsk’ behind him. Theon tensed as, with a quiet grunt, a large body slid on with him. To his horror, a thick arm hooked around his stomach and pulled him flush against the person at his back, the warmth of it drawing forth immediate goosebumps across his flesh.

The knobs of his spine sank into the soft stomach, he felt them vibrate with the rumbling chuckle emanating from the chest behind him. He squirmed in the confinement.

He can’t be serious. Hasn't he mocked me enough tonight? The clear implication that he was incapable of doing this on his own nearly made him combust with the sheer force of his righteous anger.

Even worse, the man’s large metal belt buckle dug into his backside, drawing his attention to how unbearably close they were.

“Get away.” He pushed an elbow back into the other man’s side. It didn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever; he remained unmoved. Theon huffed and quickly gave it up as no use. That didn’t mean he had to take this treatment silently though. “I’m not a child,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Lips at his ear, hair tickling the shell of it. “Then quit acting like one if you don’t want me to treat you like one.”

Theon’s lip curled of its own volition. “It’s not for you to say how I behave or don’t behave.” He hated the hint of truth in Ramsay’s words; he had been acting rather like a child tonight. But like hell was he ever going to admit that.

The arm around him tightened, pushing the air from his lungs. “Mmm,” Ramsay hummed, rubbing his other large hand down Theon’s arm. “Maybe not yet. But from that pitiful performance earlier, I think it’s obvious you need some guidance.”

Theon felt his stomach quiver at his use of the word ‘pitiful’; nearly everyone in his life had slung that descriptor at him at one point or another. But he refused to give in so easily here and now. “I can ride,” he snapped.

“Really?” There was an obvious smile in the other man’s voice. His tone dropped in register, breath ghosting across the back of his neck. “Then show me.”

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

Commission done by cereza365.

Theon stared at the flames over the rim of his wine goblet, brooding on the injustice of it all. “I rode beside Robb Stark in the Whispering Wood,” he muttered. He had been frightened that night, but not like this. It was one thing to go into battle surrounded by friends, and another to perish alone and despised. Mercy, he thought miserably.

— ACOK, THEON VI.

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.

Murtagh and Eragon

Give it lots of love, it’s so gooood!!😩

I had so much fun doing this lil’ collab with @dauthdaert-the-orchid 🐾🎀 We both did pet hybrid fics—mine is especially cuddly cat boy Ramsay and their’s is an incredibly adorable dog boy Theon.

🐈‍⬛ https://archiveofourown.org/works/63158908

🐕 https://archiveofourown.org/works/63158356

From the corner of the room, there’s a dull, repetitive thunk—it’s a sickening scratching noise that melts into reverberating wood. The monotony is the only thing allowing Theon to cling to sleep, but he’s rapidly becoming aware of his surroundings.

Maybe if he ignored it, Ramsay would go back to bed.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

In response, Theon squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying in vain to disregard the yowling that had started to accompany the sound of claws raking on the underside of his dresser. This was the fifth night in a row the cat hybrid had awoken him in the dead of night, or at least he assumed it was the dead of night.

If he opened his eyelids or showed any sign of life, there would be no hope of Ramsay growing bored and giving up. Still, it’s an exercise in futility; the likelihood of that happening was slim to none.

Another long, drawn-out cry tells Theon that he will most likely not be met with such fortune tonight. His pet was nothing if not insistent. When he wanted something—it didn’t matter what that something was or the hour of the day—he got it.

Dog Hybrid Theon fic.

Title: Adopt Me.

Give it a read if you feel like.

Thank you endlessly to @theeironprice for this incredible fic graphic, AND the prompt!! (And you should definitely check out their fic in this collection: Spoil Me, if you haven’t yet, and give it all the love! We need more of it!!)

Adopt Me: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63158356

Spoil Me: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63158908

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 💞

The dynamics just from the first chapter were so fun, with such great world building… I have a feeling we’re all gonna wanna see where it leads us!

Read it. Now.

Happy Valentine’s Day Thramsay fam!!!

After breaking down in the middle of nowhere, Theon and his brothers find themselves stranded in a remote cabin in the woods. Used to the finer things in life, Theon is unimpressed with the rustic charm of the Hornwood. It doesn’t help that his host, Ramsay Bolton, seems to take sadistic pleasure in his pain.

Things only get worse after a boating accident leaves Theon with amnesia.

All alone with no memory, he has no choice but to trust the man that claims to be his fiancé.

The long anticipated Overboard 1987 Thramsay AU!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63046321

It was so so soo good… Heed the tags, but absolutely give it a read, k?

[ Plush - Dog Toys part 2 ]

Ramsay has a very special Valentine's Day gift for his "dog" Reek. [ Part 1 - Creep ] aka How Theon's Dick Got Him In This Hot Horrific Mess

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.

a fictional man: *is kinda fucked up*

me: i want him so bad

because posting on Instagram doesn’t feel safe from judgment, here’s my drawing of my favorite bastard, Ramsay <3

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.

Seal

this gif is like a jumpscare. its fine and then his ass is just there for half a second

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.

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 ]

“a friend and brother” :’(

The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were rustling his name. “Theon,” they seemed to whisper, “Theon.”

The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. “Please.” He fell to his knees. “A sword, that’s all I ask. Let me die as Theon, not as Reek.” Tears trickled down his cheeks, impossibly warm. “I was ironborn. A son … a son of Pyke, of the islands.”

A leaf drifted down from above, brushed his brow, and landed in the pool. It floated on the water, red, five-fingered, like a bloody hand. “… Bran,” the tree murmured. 

They know. The gods know. They saw what I did. And for one strange moment it seemed as if it were Bran’s face carved into the pale trunk of the weirwood, staring down at him with eyes red and wise and sad. Bran’s ghost, he thought, but that was madness. Why should Bran want to haunt him? He had been fond of the boy, had never done him any harm. It was not Bran we killed. It was not Rickon. They were only miller’s sons, from the mill by the Acorn Water. “I had to have two heads, else they would have mocked me … laughed at me … they …”

A voice said, ”Who are you talking to?“

Theon spun, terrified that Ramsay had found him, but it was just the washerwomen—Holly, Rowan, and one whose name he did not know. ”The ghosts,“ he blurted. ”They whisper to me. They … they know my name.“

- A Ghost in Winterfell (ADWD)

I engage with fiction in a normal way. don’t look at my blog

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.

‘don’t you want your favourite character to be happy???’ no? i want my favourite character to be interesting. i want me to be happy. which sometimes involves my favourite character being in exquisite agony

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.