[ Local Maul - WIP Snippet ]

reblog with a spoiler for your wip with zero context. no context allowed.

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

UM. UHHH…… I, like, need this as a whole fic. Like, yesterday. Freaking brilliant.

Au where theon is a pup play/nsfw Twitter account, and Ramsay being the biggest incel gooner, is his biggest fan,so he starts chatting up theon and eventually becomes his master/handler, and theon post about it, proudly shows his collar etc, until after a while he stops posting at all, one of his mutuals and friend, Kyra, notices after two months of inactivity, she DMS him curious, then worried, because Theon doesn't spend longer then and hour away from his phone and he hasn't replied to her, after a week after she starts dming, theons account disappears, she freaks out at first but it's not like she can do much she didn't even know his actual name, and after a while she just figures that maybe theons new master didn't like him posting, so she convinces herself everything is fine and moves on

Based off of this tweet

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🥺

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.

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

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.

Just look at this beautiful arttttt. Agh!! Stunning. Everyone should go read The Best Pet by Weeping Eighth on Ao3!!! If you like dog Theon, you’ll love that!!🥺🥹❤️

They are playing twister

Hooooooooooly shit. Simply stunning!! No words… Other than… Everyone must read this fic and see this art…!!!!Truly some of the best pieces of art around…🤩😍

Theon humping Ramsays stomach

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59310016/chapters/151263199?view_adult=true

(Love your work gendry! Big love forger and ever on the work 💚🙏🏻

“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)