Hello and thank you for stopping by! This is the writing space of @screamverse-shawty aka Lilo, aka Muse. I've wanted to get into writing fic for years, and the first one I posted blew up a bit so I've decided to just throw myself in the deep end and here we are. Everyone who interacts in any way I literally love you so bad and I mean that, thank you!!!
The fandoms I write for now:
House of the Dragon
Game of Thrones
Scream
Stranger Things
The Devil all the time
My favorite characters and ships to write for:
Aegon ii Targaryen
Ramsay Bolton
Stu Macher
Billy Hargrove
Steve Harrington
Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy/Reek
Stu Macher/Billy Loomis
Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Keg boys (Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington/Tommy Hagan)
Lee Bodecker
Preston Teagardin
I'm partial to darker themes, power dynamics, and...you see Ramsay on my list so ahem yeah take that as you may. Also, I'm mostly comfortable with M/M and M/F, I'm opening to trying F/F but it may take me longer to get to.
These lists aren't hard limits so don't be shy with asks and requests, especially within the same fandoms. I don't have much a a body of work right now but I've watched and enjoyed a ton of shows so if you request something not anywhere on the list and Im down for it I'll try my best. Also just general questions about my interpretations of characters and really anything are more than welcome too.
And by the way, this is my old whump/soft gore blog and I'm kind of emotionally attached to everything on here so I won't be deleting my old posts for now at least. Have fun scrolling through those if you want lol.
sorry that you think my fictional ship is illegal. I actually consulted a fictional lawyer about it and he had a talk with a fictional cop about the fictional laws and then they both looked at me, and very seriously said "we'll allow it because it's hot."
Tags: Modern Setting, Angst, Hurt no Comfort Starvation, Branding, Torture, Captivity, Ramsay is his own warning
A/n: Yes I was too lazy to come up with an actual title. While this is torture porn its not actually porn porn, and although it is in fact horny there are no explicit sexual acts
Theon hadn’t eaten in three days.
“C’mon baby,” Ramsay cooed, “you can do it.” He wagged the piece of streak above his head, dangling it from the thin knife held in his left hand. Theon whimpered as it dripped onto the floor.
He sat on his heels with his forelegs folded underneath him and both hands flat on the floor between his knees for balance.
“Like a dog”, Ramsay had taught him.
He shifted his weight and jumped feebly, trying and failing to catch the meat between his teeth. No hands, as he’d been instructed. Ramsay had once again yanked it up, just out of his reach, chuckling as Theon’s hips cracked painfully and hisI ankles ground into the cement.
“Ohh…” Ramsay tutted. He brought his free hand to caress the side of Theon’s neck and face, stroking his cheek gently with his thumb, pulling at his lip. “I thought my pet was hungry?” Theon leaned greedily into the touch, pleading with his best ‘fuck me’ eyes for his master to relent.
The little slut definitely knows what he’s doing, Ramsay mused. Trying to distract him. Trying to wash away his resolve with those ocean eyes. He loved to act so innocent, but Ramsay knew otherwise.
The smaller man shuddered beneath the inhuman gaze, trying his hardest to his master’s thoughts through his eyes as the gentle touch became an increasingly tighter hold.
“You’ll need to try a bit harder than that dear”, Ramsay whispered, clenching his jaw.
Theon had been forced to learn how to read the intricacies of his master’s body language, and that subtle jump of the muscle in Ramsay’s throat indicated that his patience was running thinner by the second. Spurred by his blooming panic, Theon nodded eagerly, or tried to, at least. With how little energy he had he seemed to move in slow motion, even while his heart pounded fast against his ribcage.
Ramsay found his efforts incredibly endearing, and he couldn’t contain his smile when his pet opened his mouth and struggled to speak, tears filling his eyes as he wrestled with his words.
“I am master,” he mumbled. “I just, I-“ He searched for a measured response, something that would please Ramsay and align with today’s game, but his starved mind was too clouded and exhausted, failing him. They’d been at this for nearly two hours. Theon lowered his head between his shoulders as they shook with silent sobs.
Ramsay ran a calloused hand up the base of Theon’s neck and slid it through his pet’s tangled hair, gripping a handful at the crown and yanking it back, forcing him to meet his gaze again.
“You just what?”, he hissed, gripping Theon’s scalp tightly and shaking him hard enough to make him see stars. “Because I took a lot of time out of my day to prepare this meal for you, reek. When I’m generous enough to feed you and you can’t even be bothered to put in a bit of effort yourself…” he trailed off, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. “It really hurts my feelings, pet. Do you understand that?”
Liar!, spat the rebellious voice that lived in the back of Theon’s mind. He doesn’t care about that! He’s enjoying this. Every bloody moment of it. Under many layers of conditioning and rewiring, there was a buried part of him that still wanted desperately to fight back. The longer he remained in this new existence though, in a new place as a new person, that part seemed to disappear into the fog of his consciousness more often than not.
He tried to force out another garbled plea, but his lips felt numb and staticky, and he found he had very little control over them as they opened and shut dumbly.
“Hmmm”, Ramsay rubbed his chin, pantomiming a man deep in thought, before gasping and clasping his hands, flinging away the steak and the knife as he sprang to his feet. Theon flinched, genuinely startled by the sudden movement and cringed as he watched his dinner plop onto the grimy floor.
How pathetic. The voice hissed before he was able to wave it away.
“I’m disappointed reek.” He chided, “I thought we were past your disobedient phase.”
He said nothing. His part of the game was over.
“But, you still seem to be forgetting who you belong to.” He’d begun pacing the room, circling his victim like a buzzard, hands clasped behind his back. “It seems that you need learn in a different way”
Theon trembled with the effort of holding in his sobs and his sick as he was struck suddenly with the feeling that something truly terrible would happen to him that night.
He could feel but not see the intensity of Ramsay’s gaze as it burned holes through him. His voice tonight had held a current of deadly menace. The jovial undertone that typically came along with his tortures was nowhere to be seen. When Theon hazarded a glance up, the eyes that met his were glossed over and stared down Ramsay’s nose with an unsettling vacancy. Silence stretched on for what seemed like an hour as his master’s stare remained unbroken.
He chuckled, sharply and suddenly making Theon jump. He took a large step forward, closing the distance between them and leaning down to take Theon’s head in his hands.
“I know what we’ll do!”
As if on instinct, he wilted into his touch once more, but still cringed at masters ominous tone.
“Don’t worry.” He wore the same soft and friendly smile that had fooled Theon on the day they met. “It’ll help you. And you’ll like it, in the end.”
He stared at him and blinked, no signs of understanding evident on his face. His eyes were wide and wet and full of fear, and Ramsay suppressed a noise of pleasure.
“Stay there”, he called as he stepped away and turned the corner into the other room of the basement, the one that was always locked whenever he was left in the basement alone.
He heard sounds of unidentifiable clutter being rummaged through, metal and wood tumbling over one another and to the concrete floor.
Ramsay returned to look down at him with a tight-lipped, sardonic smirk that twitched on his face, both arms tucked behind his back. He looked…excited. An expression that a normal person might have if they were about to share a gift or good news.
“I’ve made something for you, reek. With my own two hands.”
Theon slowly raised his head, venturing to meet his gaze but unsure of whether he had permission.
“Master?” ---
“Look, dear” He breathed.
Theon looked up sharply, on edge and not wanting to prolong the moment any more, and examined the objects held before him.
In each hand there was a heavy looking metal stick, each with a strange shape on one end. He leaned slightly forward and squinted, and though they were crudely made, he could see that one was a love heart, and the other a capital letter ‘R’. The objects were vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t parse the function of the strange tools.
“You see, dogs aren’t always smart enough to remember who they belong to, how to obey. I thought I could teach you, but I didn’t realize you were such a stupid dog.”
Ramsay squatted before him, now holding both rods in his left hand, and resting his chin on his fist. Theon’s gaze was locked onto Ramsay’s now, and the muscles in his face twitched at the closeness. They were almost never on the same level like this, face to face and near enough to hear his short breaths.
“You need something a bit more straightforward.”
Theon struggled to hold his gaze seconds dragged on. He knew Ramsay liked to do this, stalling and allowing Theon’s anxiety and uncertainty to grow. He felt sweat forming on his brow as he tried to think clearly, to understand what was unfolding before his eyes. But he was just so…tired. Empty. All he could do was sit and wait for the blow.
“Do you know what a branding iron is Reek?”
His mouth dropped open as he absorbed Ramsay’s words. His whole body tensed as his eyes returned to Ramsay’s tools.
A fucking heart with his initial. Burned into you, forever.
Theon couldn’t help the words that tumbled from his mouth as he felt seized with panic.
“M-Master, Reek is… I,”
He was shaking hard now, and the stammering of his lips and chattering of his teeth was entirely outside of his control. Ramsay tilted his head and knitted his brows together in mock confusion. He hummed inquisitively, prompting his pet to go on. Cruelly.
Theon knew. He knew not to grovel without permission but what drove him now seemed like animal instinct.
I-I please Master. You can’t- “
He hadn’t even finished the thought before an explosion of pain enveloped one side of his face. He felt a subdued crunching that told him some bone in his face had likely given way. He heard metal crashing to the ground and saw the room tilting sideways before hot blood began to blur his vision. He seemed to be lying on his side now, but his orientation didn’t register much as his ears rang intensely. He pressed his hands to them, trying uselessly to block out the noise that came from inside.
Just as quickly he was being hauled up by what was left of the collar on his ragged shirt, and pulled in close to Ramsay, almost nose to nose with his master who now stood hunched over him, an ugly snarl revealing tightly clenched teeth.
“Don’t beg me once my mind is made reek. It's disrespectful. And you know how I hate your sniveling.”
His head swam as he was dropped back to the floor unceremoniously, and Ramsay grumbled as he made his way across the room, fiddling with something somewhere outside of Theon’s narrowing perception.
He didn’t move from where he’d been dropped, but instead breathed heavily as waves of pain seemed to crash over his head and play at his consciousness. He brought a hand up to wipe the blood from around his eyes, flinching and whimpering as the lightest touches near the injury caused great spikes of pain.He felt that he might be crying but his face was such a mess that he couldn’t be sure. His head throbbed in a way that may have made him sick if there was anything in him to vomit up.
“I’ll be careful, pet, don’t look so afraid. I’ll keep you neat and clean. I couldn’t handle you winging through another infection.”
He wondered at the odd sound that then filled the room. It reminded him of a coastal wind before he realized it was the contained roar of a blowtorch.
He closed his eyes and imagined the sound was that of the salty air he used to hear tearing through the tall grass outside his window. Before he’d moved to the mainland or met the starks or been pulled into this strange world away from the islands. Those felt like the memories of a different person now. Memories of a person that no longer existed in the real world.
He lay in the memories of the other him until the sound of boots advancing and the voice of his master brought him back.
“On your stomach reek. Quickly.”, he deadpanned.
He rolled onto his front, grunting and willing himself not to whimper so pathetically before he’d even gotten started in earnest.
He clenched his teeth and cursed silently as he saw the glow from the rod that had been placed beside him. It was nearly a foot away but he could still sense the heat pouring from it.
He gasped as his thin pants were yanked down around his knees. The chill of the air and the unyielding floor made his exposed skin prickle.
“Christ Reek, I don’t know what you were playing at tonight, refusing my food.”
He hissed involuntarily as Ramay seized a handful of flesh on his backside, gripping hard enough to bruise.
“You’re skin and bones darling.”
An unexpected anger flared up in him momentarily, and he wished he could spit in the bastard’s face as he mocked and toyed with him. The fact that Theon was locked away, starving to death and this was all a bit of fun for the monster enraged him.
He dared not turn his head to look for himself, but he felt Ramsay’s gaze, drinking in his emaciated form in the seconds of silence that followed.
“Now reek, you’re going to like this a lot more if you refrain from fighting me. I can make that easier for you.”
There were footfalls on either side of his shoulders and a moment later Theon wheezed as Ramsay’s full weight bore down on him, pressing his sternum into concrete. He’d sat on him, settling squarely in the center of his back, straddling him with legs on either side of his torso, holding his upper body in place.
Ramsay’s arousal was obvious.
He’d whistled as he picked his tools back up from Theon’s side and focused back on heating the object, Theon imagined himself running. He would throw Ramsay off him, sprint upstairs and out of this place in some miraculous feat of adrenaline. He’d run, and keep running until he found someone sane.
It struck him that not another living soul knew where he was.
The thought was interrupted by more pain without warning, and he yelped like a kicked dog. He’d never imagined the sound of his own flesh searing beneath metal, but now he could confirm that it was more than awful.
He took shaky, gulping breaths, and Ramsay was oddly quiet as he heated the second iron. His breathing seemed labored, and Theon could feel the subtle, maybe even subconscious rock of his hips as his hardness pressed flush against Theon’s feverishly warm skin.
Theon kept as silent and still as possible, biting hard on the inside of his cheek, not wanting to give him any more sickening pleasure from his sounds of pain. The bleeding on his head had slowed significantly, only a few drops accenting the floor near his brow. He squeezed his eyes shut, doing his best to take his mind elsewhere as he braced for the next strike.
It wasn’t so easy though, to distract himself from his current circumstance.
It was fucking unfair. He hadn’t done anything. He shouldn’t kid himself though, the bastard had never needed a reason to punish him.
He’d lost extremities to Ramsay’s wrathful boredom.
The second burn came and went just as quickly as the first, and he was distantly surprised as the brands hadn’t hurt quite as much as he’d feared. The fear, he realized, had been the worst part. It was like a momentary flash of the knife that then gave way to a numb tingling sensation, with only a dull reminder of the pain from before. Given the choice, he would take that sensation tenfold before any flaying.
Although, being flayed didn’t bring the same overt feeling of being marked as property, like a farm animal.
Ramsay stood, nudging Theon with his boot and saying something indiscernible to him as adrenaline drained quickly from his body, and the cloying hunger sent sharp pains through his abdomen. If he didn’t close his eyes hard every few moments, the room would begin to tilt on his axis again.
“Up reek.” He repeated, half shouting this time. “You must eat something before you fall back asleep.”
Theon groaned weakly and flapped a hand in Ramsay’s direction instead of responding.
He could just about hear the man roll his eyes as he scoffed, hoisting him up awkwardly around his midsection and holding on tightly while he found a perilous balance on his hands and knees.
“C’mon pup, sit. Just for a bit longer, I promise.”
When Theon finally got to the steak, it was cold and tough. He lay on his stomach and remained silent while tears flowed freely from his eyes. Ramsay, sat back in his chair from earlier and fed it to him, ripping off chunk after chunk and placing them in his mouth by hand. It hurt to chew with his decaying teeth, but the meat was so well cooked that he had no other option than to finely break down every morsel unless he wished to choke.
He was aware of the anger that he should’ve felt, wanted to feel, but he couldn’t consider the humiliating mark as any different from the others in his growing collection of scars. He was probably never getting out of here, and no one else save his master would likely see him alive ever again. There wasn’t anyone else for the mark to mean something to.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he shouldn’t ever be found. What was left to find, really. His father would have told him that this new life of indignity was a fate worse than death. He felt nauseous at the idea of his father seeing him this way, and he sincerely hoped the man was dead.
Tears stung the edges of his eyes, and he let them flow freely, scooting to fill the space between Ramsay’s legs and laying a cheek against the warmth of his inner thigh. He didn’t dare to meet his gaze, but nuzzled his nose perilously close to the bulge in his master’s lap.
He just wanted to forget.
He just wanted to be good.
All he could do was lay limp as the bastard embraced him, stroking his sweat soaked and blood matted hair, planting small kisses anywhere he could reach. It soothed him enough to help him pretend he was someone else, somewhere else, being held by a man who’d loved him once.
Ramsay’s hands were large, and warm, and gentle, finally gentle.
When he heard the belt unbuckling millimeters from his face, he felt warmth in his chest, and allowed himself to smile.
What are all your favourite ships whether than are canon or not canon, from books, tv shows or movies.
What are all your favourite romance and character tropes.
Okay this ask is over a YEAR old but I never saw it so sorry lol,, that being said my all time fav ships in order of when I got into them include:
Frank/Gerard of MCR: This was the first ship I genuinely got super feral and invested in and learned all the lore and history and spent hours reading smut of them every night in middle school. I think this is the only RPF ship I still interact with to this day because they're just too perfect idk in an alternate universe they're together forever.
Stiles/Derek from Teen Wolf: My first love in terms of fictional ship, this one is very cutesy and nostalgic for me bc of my age at the time of watching, also my first time feeling the agony and evil of unfulfiled queerbaiting because WHY did Derek have that twink thrown up against the wall like that if not...
Marcline/Princess bubblegum from AdvT: One of my very rare sweet and wholesome ships,, I can't even think of them sexually I just love them and they make me cry
Carl/Negan from TWD: It feels weird to include this for obvious reasons but at the time Negan appeared in the show I was the same age as carl and that whole storyline rewired my brain and heavily impacted my sexuality lmao so that's that. I was just a silly little fujo and Carl was my self insert ahaha I was crazy back then
Ramsay/Theon/Reek from GoT/ASOIAF: To this day this is THE ship for me. I have never been more into a ship than Thramsay it's ruined my life a bit. Their whole arc in season 3 with Ramsays growing obsession and Theon's transformation into reek made me realize that there is something wrong with my brain bcs I was NOT thinking normal thoughts about them. Theon is also one of my fav characters like ever he's so tragic and beautiful and do I relate to him and see him as a self insert a bit too much?? Who's to say. I also think this ship is so adaptable and amazing in so many different AUs and also explores and psyches of both characters amazingly blah blah blah I could go on for hours about this so I'll cut myself off now but I'm always down to gab about these characters, as a ship or just in general.
Jennifer/Needy from Jennifer's body: I don't have as much to say about them BUT their dynamic is so ajshsksksis childhood besties who grow to be very different people but still grow up to be attached at the hip is something I love very much. Also they way they're like obsessed with each other and lowkey want each other so bad but neither of them understand it so they just end up destroying each other instead???? Spectacular I'll take 14 more.
Billy/Steve from Stranger Things (+Tommy if ya nasty): This is another ship that's like beautiful and perfect to me I think they go together so well their tension in the show is crazy and they just look so good together??? I was a Billy devotee from the start and lemme tell y'all when season 3 hit the streets????? and Billy was getting physically and emotionally destroyed every single episdose???? Trust me I was feeling things. Also regarding Billy being canonically racist,,,I'm black and I kinda dgaf I think that was kinda a random choice by the creators, its not integral to the character and its easy to do away with in fic! Also Harringrove is in the running for my personal best ship names ever.
Billy/Stu from Scream: WAITER??? MORE REPRESSED GAYS CLINGING TO EACH OTHER FOR SURVIVAL IN A WORLD THAT DOESN'T UNDERSTAND THEM!!! I love how goofy and chaotic and dramatic and immature they are, ellos son toxicos but they need each other I think. Also the fact that an actual QUEER CODED THIS (gay director) theres so much subtext and little things between them so theres just a lot of explore.
For romantic tropes, I'll make this section a lil shorter because I'm already writing a novel here but I very much enjoy: Tragic/doomed/haunting the narrative characters, strong power dynamics, mutual obsession, obsessive/emotional villans, secret relationships, captive/captor, childhood friends to lovers, opposites attract, unrequited crushes/love, rebounds, and lastly whatever the FUCK Theon Greyjoy got going on.
Ramsay just showed up in one of my dreams, far too complicated to explain but he was wearing this white fur outfit very reminiscent of Dany's from season 7 and he was wandering through the cold wistfully and his hair was full of snow?????Am I??? Supposed to be normal about this??????
I got a late start on watching this season which was delayed even more because I did a full rewatch with my roommate but WAHHHH my puppy boy is so fucking cute and pathetic this season. Hes such a dickhead but I he's so 💓💓💞✨💖💘💝💖💘🤍🩷💌💌💓💟🖤💌💞❣️💞💝💞💝 I need to put him in some fucking situations. Hoping to write more soon (wont promise because I know how I am) but please send rqs if you like my past aegon stuff
Okay, realizing I teased this fic like A MONTH ago and just left yall hanging so I do apologize for that,,,anyways this was another of those situations where I start writing HCs but I get overly invested and filled with ideas so I want to make it a fic but then I get overwhelmed and overthink and excessively scrutinize and end up just putting it off. The neverending cycle as it were. But I've decided to take some pressure of myself and just make this a short part one/teaser! So here you go, please enjoy and leave feedback if you like!
Tags/warnings: SFW, Captivity, memory loss, mention of drug use
As you awake, the first thing you feel is discomfort. You’re groggy and vaguely stiff and sore all over. Your mouth feels dry and stuck together, and crust around your eyes begins to sting as you come into awareness. Everything is oddly fuzzy, muffled or blunted somehow and your whole body hums with a kind of numbness you can only associate with a limb that’s fallen asleep and lost most of its sensation. ‘A dream’, you think. Every breath feels like a concerted effort.
It doesn’t take long after you open your eyes though to take in your surroundings in the fairly well lit room. You use all the strength you can muster to lift your head enough to look around. You feel your stomach cramping with the effort as you shake slightly, but the pain is far away. The room seems empty, barren of furniture or any semblance of décor. The grimy concrete floor combines perfectly with the stone walls, weakly buzzing lightbulb that hangs from the ceiling, and the rickety wooding staircase ascending into nowhere to create the stereotypical image of a ‘creepy kidnapper basement’. It was something straight out of a trashy torture porn exploitation film. The thought made you chuckle, but you were faintly aware that the sound was more of a dry grunt.
As you move to sit up further, you feel your right arm weighed down by what you turn and see is a cuff and heavy chain, no longer than a foot and attached to a disused radiator. As you trace the links with your gaze, you notice what you’re sitting on, a lumpy and yellowed mattress which had certainly seen better days. ‘This is too fucking good’, you think to yourself. You’re well used to strange and foreboding dreams, but this one feels a bit on the nose. You want to laugh again, but recognize the feeling of your mind becoming more and more withdrawn from your body and lacking control of its functions.
You feel yourself lay back, suddenly uninterested in the previous line of thinking. Your head was beginning to spin, and the pain in your stomach threatens to break through the delirium. All you want to do is sleep, but aren’t you already asleep? The quietly growing pain is what makes you question your state of consciousness because as far as you can remember, dreams were not supposed to feel this sharp.
As you recede into exhaustion, your vision dims and your mind attempts to reach out past the island of your thoughts in the moment.
Where was I before this?
What had I told Alys before I left her?
Who was the man with the dog?
You can’t answer any of these questions for yourself or make out exactly what they mean. You fall back into what should be sleep, but are assailed by images, vignettes, fragments of some story or memory that nags at you.
Alys’ copper hair catching the glow of the streetlight and her radiant smile that evaded the appreciation of the man who’d wrapped himself around her.
“GO, have fun! I’ll be fine, its beautiful out anyway, I could use a walk.”
The night which got so dark and so quiet more quickly than you expected when it’d felt like you just left the concert. As if the world had simply fallen away from you.
The park bench where you lay, staring up at the stars and ignoring the cavernous pain in your chest and the urge to cough as you inhaled again from the device Alys had left you with.
“She’s friendly, help yourself.” The voice of the man shrouded in darkness which carried an odd tone as you found yourself kneeling and reaching out to pet a huge back dog, with floppy ears and some of the biggest eyes you’d ever seen.
“You know, It’s not a good night to be out here all alone.”
A cruel stare.
Rough hands.
A sharp pain at the back of your head.
And then nothing.
No more memories, no more thoughts, no more images.
Nothing but the bitter, coppery taste in your mouth as the last of your consciousness winked out of existence.
