bookofbonbon

[bookofbonbon]

Finishing up S1 of The Rings of Power with an obsession with Elrond was not how I was expecting things to go but… here we are.

[bookofbonbon]

We need more of all a lie in fact I personally need/want/plead for more of your writing in general. You have such a talent and such an understanding of nuanced tricky relationships and the deep intimate complex pain of the female experience. I feel the pain of your character as I’m reading it I can relate it to some of my own pain or even I just feel it on a level that only women really can. The hunger games is such an excellent movie/book/world for expressing that kind of pain and trauma and stories and I feel like so few people really get it or write about it but you get it. If you ever decided to be a writer professionally just know I and so many other people would be lined up around the block on release day I’d literally read your shopping list you’re so talented. I hope you continue to write as long as you enjoy it and it serves you bc you’re too talented not to. Thank you for writing and being generous enough to share it with us. Some people are natural born writers and some people have to work extra hard and they’re both great but you can tell who falls into which category and you fall into the first. I just wanted to let you know in case nobody has today, I hope your coffees always extra hot and your pillows always cool💗

I’ve sat on this message since the 8th of January when you sent it. I’ve read it and read it again and again contemplating whether or not I should post it or continue to keep it to myself as I have this entire time. But a big part of the reason I’ve kept it to myself is because I keep coming back to it thinking I’ll finally have the words to respond to such a message and over 8 months later, I still don’t. The reason I’m finally sharing it is so, you - whoever you are that sent this message to me, if you are still hanging around my little old blog - know just how much this message has meant to me.

I do want to say that I am sorry you were able to relate to some of the characters pain and I do sincerely hope that you are now in a better place.

I don’t think I will ever the find the words to thank you or to express just how grateful I am for your kind words except to say that truly, deeply, from the bottom of my heart, thank you and, I also hope your coffees are always extra hot, pillow always cool and your heart always find happiness ❤️

[bookofbonbon]

hotd fic recs plsssss

Eeek I don’t read much fanfic to begin with and given how much S2 annoyed me, I’ve read almost no HotD fics at all…

EXCEPT for @sylasthegrim’s fics - I’ve recently gone down a rabbit hole of all their Cregan fics and they all absolutely delight me!

I will eventually scour the tags and do some reading. Once I do I’ll post a new fic rec list, hopefully soon! Otherwise, my lovely @holy-minseok is my go to for fic recs! 🫶🏽

[bookofbonbon]

for you and for me - cregan stark.

Pairings/Characters: Cregan Stark x Reader; Alysanne Blackwood.

Warnings: OOC. No thought put into this. Zero thought, head empty. Just wrote it 4 fun. Spoilers. Bad grammar, punctuation and tense use.

Summary: Cregan returns to Winterfell at the end of the war with a new bride.

Word Count: 1.1k

Snow fell gently around Winterfell for a sixth consecutive day. The calm weather a more than welcome change from the otherwise blizzardous days that had been wreaking havoc upon the Northern country prior.

Given the sudden change, you couldn’t help but wonder if the North was somehow connected to its Lord- if it had sensed when he returned to his country some six days ago. The Stark’s were, after all, an ancient house and like most Northerners, you had also heard the tales of how ancient sorcery and spells had been woven into The Wall when Bran the Builder raised it. Perhaps…

You screw your nose up.

You didn’t have time to dwell on magical midwives tales. If there was however, one thing you were certain of, it was that Winter had come for Winterfell during its Lord Stark’s absence and you were sure it would return with a vengeance once he was secured in his seat.

-

Excitement buzzes in the still icy Northern air of Winterfell. Household staff rushing through the courtyard to finish laying the final preparations for the Welcome Home Grand Feast which awaited Lord Stark and the Northmen who marched South to war some 1-2 years ago. 

In the courtyard, the Northmen who remained during the war began falling into line, Stark banners ready to be raised at a moment’s notice in anticipation for the long-awaited arrival of their Liege Lord and fellow countrymen and, just as you were nowhere to be found on Lord Stark’s  departure, you were once again nowhere to be found amongst the masses as they gathered below for his return. 

Despite your absence below however, nothing went unnoticed by you from where you stood hidden in the tallest spire of Winterfell,  overlooking the castle’s ground and the vast North. 

The once green hills had become a permanent snow white for as far as your eyes could see, save for the downtrodden road that cut through it- an army of Northern men led by Stark banners and other Northern household banners alike traveling down it.

They would arrive in little time and as expected, a surge of frantic energy seemed to sweep through Winterfell as a lone rider came galloping through the castle’s gates to announce their near arrival.

-

There’s an ache in your chest as you watch the scene below you unfold, hand rubbing at your chest in an attempt to soothe it. Winter’s men greeted with tears of both sorrow and joy as the men, women and children who remained in the North came to learn who of their loved ones had returned and who had not. 

You wrinkle your nose as a cold wind blows. Breath coming out in a white puff for the first time in six days. You had noticed the sudden change in the weather as soon as it happened; the way the snow fell harder and the winds began to pick up, carrying with them a familiar scent.

It’s then that you find your gaze drawn to the castle’s gates as a thin woman with a mass of curly black hair sitting atop a large stead arrives, sticking sorely out like a prey amongst wolves as she gazes anxiously around her.

Leaning slightly forward, you pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders. The woman is flanked by two men with Blackwood banners.

So, this was her.

You watch keenly as she dismounts gracefully, immediately noting her tall height and though she was thin, you could tell she was strong by the way she carried herself as she placed a comforting hand on her horse; her sharp gaze taking note of everyone around her before, looking for the someone you knew was not there. 

Your lips pull in a small grin. 

“Tis’ not particularly welcoming of you to abandon your newly betrothed when she has just arrived in your country,” you drawl, watching the woman stalk through the crowd with her men.

This woman was no prey but, you currently were as the floorboards creaked beneath the heavy footsteps of the Wolf of the North.

His scent surrounds you, overwhelming you as firm arms wrap themselves around you- the Wolf of the North burrowing his nose in the crook of your neck, hair scratching at your skin as he inhales your scent deeply. You relax against his hold, leaning against him as you place a cold hand atop his own which Cregan takes as his cue to intertwine your fingers with his as he presses a kiss to your temple. 

“So, you did receive my ravens then?” he asks, voice gruffer than you remembered. “You just chose not to write me back.”

You hum your confirmation, still watching her as she broke free from the crowd that had left much of her appearance obscured from your vision. Her riding clothes were fitted well and just as Cregan described, you took notice of her long legs and strong arms as she adjusted the red cloak around her shoulders.

“There was much to do around here,” you shrugged. “You made me your Regent, I could not shirk the duties you bestowed upon me.”

Cregan sighs, forehead pressed against the back of your head. You weren’t mad, he would’ve known if you were mad but, you weren’t particularly happy with him either.

He had gone to war a widow and come back with a bride.

“If you do not approve, I will see it all undone,” he reassures you with a squeeze of your hand. 

You inhale deeply, head shaking as you an utter a firm, “no.”

If his letters were anything to go by then Alysanne Blackwood would make for the perfect bride and not even your own stubbornness would allow you to pass up a woman like her for him.

“She is… as you described? Yes?” 

“She is,” he hums happily, sensing your turn in mood as he presses a kiss to the column of your neck. “Fierce, bawdy, an excellent hunter and just as you and I do, she has also taste for…roast duck and goose.” 

You breathe a laugh through your nose, bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you consider your next words.

“And she knows about what she’s to be wed into.”

“She does and she was most delighted,” Cregan recalls with a chuckle. 

Turning in his hold, you inhale sharply at the sight of him. He looked different and still the same. Bigger and stronger. He had grown out his beard as you suspected and his hair was longer with a singular braid tucked amongst his dark locks but, none of that was what held you in your place. No. Despite his sternness, Cregan had left Winterfell with soft eyes and softer cheeks. The Cregan who stood before you now… he cut the very image of a man capable of doing the things you had heard he had done in the South; ready to rip out the traitors of the Great Houses, root and stem- eyes cold and face hardened by war, he hardly looked the person you watched leave through the gates of Winterfell some year and a bit ago but, as he smiled his toothy grin, you knew beneath it all that it was still him all the same.

“Then she’s perfect,” you tell him with a mischievous smile while rubbing your hands along his firm chest. 

Delighted with your words, Cregan’s rough hands cup your face gently as he hums his agreeance, his lips brushing against your own.

“The perfect bride for you and for me,” he murmurs before, pressing his lips firmly against yours.

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2024. All rights reserved.

[bookofbonbon]

wait, WAIT- before the new season airs! are you tb tg or neutral?!

[bookofbonbon]

Daemon Targaryen: - Written by Book of Bonbon.

This is a side blog. Main account: @blogofbonbon

Latest Update: May 2024.

Requests: Closed.

Oneshots:

Ours is the Hunt (05.05.2024). Summary: You hand down your first and final warning to Daemon for his infidelities.

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2024. All rights reserved.

[bookofbonbon]

not to glorify the early years tumblr hellscape but this site was infinitely better when you could block anon hate and then immediately find out who was sending it by checking your blocklist and i for one propose that we bring that back. no rights for cowards.

[bookofbonbon]

It finally happened.

I met my media match made in heaven.

Someone who loves spoilers just as much as I do and will also google spoilers mid-watch because we are impatient 🫶🏽

[bookofbonbon]

ours is the hunt - daemon targaryen.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader.

Warnings: 18+ Cheating. Hunting. Death/Killing. Mentions of pregnancy/ending a pregnancy. This is kinda fucked up, read the summary. Probably major spelling and grammar mistakes. Tense/POV mix ups.

Summary: Based on a request from the lovely @holy-minseok. like how westerosi kings warn the people of the consequences if they move out of line, reader presents daemons mistress to him on a spike with her swollen belly as a final warning for his betrayals.

Word Count: 2.8k+

A/N: This took on a life of its own and didn't play out exactly as the request but, hopefully it's still enjoyable (well... as enjoyable as it can be). Italics section is a flashback.

The Kingswood is eerily silent in the minutes before sunrise. The party, like many of the woodland creatures, still slept, peaceful in their oblivion as servants moved quietly around the camp to prepare for the rush that daybreak would bring. You take a deep breath, the crisp forest air a welcome change from that of the stench of King’s Landing; the smell of the previous afternoon’s rain also lingers but it would dry with the promise of good weather and a bright sun. 

“My Lady,” Ser Eadric Qyle calls, your most loyal, your sworn sword. “Everything is prepared to your instruction.”

“How many?”

“Three total. Two in the woods as we had hoped now, one. We will release the last one on your instruction.” 

The snap of a twig, a slight breeze, the distant wail of a wounded animal and the flutter of wings as the early morning bird sings its song as it flies across the waking sky. The forest whispers your name and you answer its call. 

“Let the hunt begin.” 

-

Your horse slows to a trot and eventually, to a stop as you approach the camp; an accompanying stablehand taking hold of the reins as a stool is brought to aid your dismount. 

“I had wondered where my wife had gone,” Daemon’s voice comes from beside you with a hand held out. “I should have known to check the woods.”

Your smile is wide, eyes lighting up at his presence as you take his hand and dismount. He is still dressed in his sleeping robes, the Targaryen Prince having obviously just woken not long ago. The thought that he immediately came to seek you out upon waking endears you. 

Steadying yourself with a hand on Daemon’s shoulder, you find your balance and firmly plant your feet on the stool; with the added height you find yourself at eye-level with him and greet him with a kiss to the side of his head. 

“Good morrow, my love.”

Daemon returns the greeting by leaning into you with a groan, head dropping into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his arms wrapping around you. 

“Remind me again why we must be here at this bloody thing?” 

You wrap an arm around his shoulder, hand soothing his back. 

“You cannot get out of this, Daemon,” you tell him with a small laugh. 

Daemon groans again, his breath hot against your neck as he attempts to burrow his face deeper, grumbling all the while. He doesn’t get far however, when you thread your fingers through his unruly hair and pull. 

“What was that, my love?”

“When you said you arranged a hunt for my name day, I thought it would be just us. Not a whole fucking camp for a Royal Hunt.” 

While Daemon was content to revel in celebrations of his victory, a Royal Hunt and a Royal Tourney were two entirely different things. Besides, he could think of much better things to do on his name day and he makes it known, allowing you to hold his head in place, a familiar glint in his eyes that you force yourself to ignore.

“Did you really think your Lord-King brother would allow that? You have him to thank for-” you release his hair to gesture at the several tents. “-this.” 

“Hm. How generous of him.”

You hum in agreement, adjusting the top of his robes.

“Very but, worry not, my love. Despite reports of only one stag, Ser Eadric and I managed to gain the trail of one other.” 

A grin pulls at the corner of Daemon’s lips.

“The Royal Hunt will track one stag and we will hunt the other,” you finish. Using your grip on his robes to pull him closer, you brush your nose against his, before pressing your lips to his for a brief moment. He tries to deepen the kiss but you don’t allow him. 

“Now, come,” you step down from the stool, taking his hand in yours. “Let's get you ready for the day.” 

“Very well,” Daemon agrees, pressing a kiss to your hand with a charming smile. 

You return the smile before turning and leading him back to the centre of the camp with a tight jaw. 

Daemon’s mood lightens considerably thereafter. The Rogue Prince noticeably happier after you broke the news that the two of you would separate from the Royal Hunt because while Daemon loved to hunt, he hated not being the one to actually do it. He didn’t need someone else to track down the game just for him to land the final blow in some false display of strength and authority. He could do it himself. He wanted to do it himself. He liked to do it himself. And though his mood had lightened, you noted that it didn’t stop his eyes from wandering around in search of someone else.

-

By mid-morning, the camp is teeming with life, the several Lords and Ladies of Westeros who gathered in celebration of Daemon’s name day dotted all over the grounds and inside tents. You yourself enter the main tent with Ser Eadric, the grand structure larger than that of most of the homes of the smallfolk. 

You don’t have to look far to find Daemon, Viserys’ great laugh leading you right to him; the two brother’s seated beside one another at a long table surrounded by other lords. 

Turning to Eadric, you place a cloth in his hand. “Release the last stag and give this to the bloodhound,” you instruct. He nods, taking it in hand and departing.

Taking a deep breath, you roll your shoulders back to loosen them, a delightful smile gracing your lips as you approach Daemon and Viserys. Daemon immediately reaches out for you out of habit once you're seated, and you cradle his strong hand between your own. 

“Ah my Lady,” Viserys greets you and you, him, with a bow of your head.

“Your Grace.”

“I have been meaning to offer you both my condolences following the death of your brother and my congratulations, I hear you have been named heir of Blood's End.”

You tighten your grip around Daemon’s hand then loosen it, both hands releasing his as you begin instead to fidget with your own fingers. Daemon notices immediately, taking hold of one of your hands in his, his grip firm in silent comfort as he sends you a reassuring look. 

“A regrettable hunting accident,” you pull at the collar of your riding jacket. “But, please, accept my thanks for your congratulations, Your Grace. It is an honour and I can only hope to be half the ruler my Lord-father is of Blood's End.”

“Well, I cannot say what type of ruler you will be but, from what I heard you are double the hunter of that of what your brothers were and rival even that of your father-”

“Better,” Daemon interrupts proudly with a squeeze of your hand. 

“Better?” Viserys’ repeats in amusement. 

You breathe a laugh at Daemon’s antics, “I am able to hold my own somewhat.” 

Daemon scoffs at your downplay of your skill, “my wife is humble, brother but, I am not. She is the better between her and her father. Perhaps one of the best in all the land.”

You make a show of balking at the declaration, forcing a meek laugh “I- that is not-”

But, Viserys’ cuts you off, holding one hand up in surrender, “if Daemon says you are one of the best then I believe him. I mean what good is it if House Chase’ words are ‘Ours is the Hunt’ if they cannot do exactly that?”

Viserys’ laughs heartily at his own joke and you spare a glance at Daemon who grins at you playfully.  

The conversation teeters off soon after that as Daemon and Viserys’ listen to the report sent by the Royal Huntsman. You in turn, turn your attention to one of your Ladies-in-waiting, Lady Millicent. While the custom of having Ladies-in-waiting was unusual outside of the Great Houses, the custom was needed within your own House as it was in fact greater than even that of your liege lords, House Baratheon. House Chase commanded both a larger army and fertile lands that weren’t felled by the terrible weather that surrounded Storm’s End. House Chase was second to Baratheon in rank only. 

“My Lady, I’ve been meaning to ask but, where is Lady Gwendolyn? I’ve not seen her around the camp all morning, I fear-”

“Yes,” Daemon interrupts abruptly. “Where is Lady Gwendolyn?”

You delight at the question, ears burning as you turn your attention to Daemon about your newest Lady-of-waiting of six, maybe seven months. 

“I did not know you had such a keen interest in my ladies of waiting. Husband.”

“My only interest is that she attends to my grooming every morning and yet, when I needed her this morning, she was nowhere to be found.” 

Daemon shrugs the question off with a practiced ease while your lips almost pull dangerously downwards, mask hanging by a thread and nearly slipping completely at the brazen statement. Instead you fix your smile, reaching across to smooth the neck of his hunting attire. 

“I have given Lady Gwendolyn leave while we are here, she is likely with her kin in the woods.”

-

A dull light permeates from the lantern in your hand, bathing its immediate surroundings - including yourself - in a warm glow as you carefully navigate the unfamiliar bed chambers that your husband had come to frequent as of late. Shadows bouncing off of the walls, the silhouettes of the two figures in the bed become clearer the closer you get. 

See, you weren’t naive to the ways of men and their crude sexual appetites; the way they would seek out other women when their wives could not sate them. 

‘It is the way of men, he will have his whores and his playthings but you are his wife and no whore can take away from you.’ is what your mother had told you but, you would not heed her words. You would not lay down while your husband took mistresses and whores alike and you had told him so, warning him once of the consequences.

Placing the lantern down on the bedside table, you peer down at the Baratheon beauty laid in the bed with your husband; a few drops of milk of the poppy in their goblets and it was keeping both husband and whore sedated. 

The mattress dips slightly under your weight as you settle yourself beside her sleeping figure, hip to hip as you take a closer look at your Lady-in-waiting, who had also taken up position as Daemon’s mistress, stealing both his time and attention from you. 

Lady Gwendolyn of House Baratheon, the niece of a cousin of a second son nobody; a distant relative carrying the Great name of the Great Stags of the Stormlands. 

“Ser Eadric,” you call on your sworn sword; fingers ghosting over her abdomen. The swell is slight but it is there. “Our Prince’s name day is fast approaching. Ensure arrangements have begun at first light. We will celebrate like none before.”

-

The sun sits at its peak in the sky, streams of its light filtering through the tops of the forest's trees. The crossbow is heavy in Daemon’s hands as he sits astride his horse, sweat gathering on his forehead as he watches his surroundings; the reins of your own horse in his other hand. He had led the first few hours, and now you had taken over. 

As planned, the two of you went out with the Royal Hunt and eventually broke off under the guise of returning to the camp. 

Daemon’s ears perk at the sound of a nearby wail and the flutter of several wings as a group of birds seem to scatter. Dismounting, Daemon joins you on the ground, coming to stand behind you as he scans the woods for any signs of danger. There is no danger however, just your blood hound.

Daemon moves past you and calls the hound to heel at his side. 

“We’re close,” you toss the hours old droppings back onto the ground and pick up your own crossbow. “These droppings are fresh.”

“Very close.” Daemon calls you over to where the bloodhound sits obediently by his feet. There is blood around its jowl. A thrill goes down your spine at the sight, knowing that the two of you were close now. 

“We go on foot from here,” he declares, trying the reins of your horses to a nearby tree and you agree.

Moving silently ahead through the Kingswood, what was once vibrating with life, has now come to standstill with your approach. All the woodland creatures recognising the two predators hunting in their territory. 

Your eyes flitter from the ground to up ahead as you follow the Stag’s tracks, Daemon trailing behind you and then- the sudden trample of hooves to the left of you and a blur of brown and then silence. 

“Daemon,” you whisper and nod up ahead. 

There in the distance stands the Great Stag the two of you had been hunting for the better part of four hours, its mammoth antlers moving frantically as it turned its head over and over. 

Daemon places a hand on the small of your back and you turn your head toward him. 

“From here?” you ask and he nods, stepping carefully in front of you.

The Stag stumbles around clumsily, which Daemon can only assume is from when the bloodhound must’ve sunk its teeth into it but it otherwise remains in the same area, believing itself to be safe.

“Let us test out the might of these crossbows from here,” Daemon croons quietly. The armourer had declared it the single most powerful crossbow, capable of bringing down the greatest creatures from an even greater distance. 

Positioning himself, Daemon presses his body against yours, your hand touching his collar before you slide it down and place it on his waist. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of both of your breaths as you watched over his shoulder. He lines up the shot, finger on the trigger, your breaths in harmonious sync, his back against your chest as your hearts beat as one. You slide a hand underneath his arm, steadying his hold and with a kiss to his shoulder blade, he pulls. 

Thwack!

The recoil is slight as the sound reverberates with a sickening crunch. The Stag cries out but, before it can make a move to run, you’re passing Daemon your own crossbow and he sends another arrow straight through its neck with perfect precision. 

There’s a beat of silence as the entire woods including yourselves come to a halt, your breaths the only sound that could be heard. It’s soon broken however, by your laughter, the sound building into something hysterical as you step away from Daemon. Catching Daemon’s attention, he turns to you, initially in concern, it doesn’t take long however for him to join you when he sees how delighted you are. Catching you by the back of your neck, Daemon pulls you into him, his mouth covering yours in a searing kiss which you happily return. 

“Shall we claim our prize?” you break the kiss, foreheads pressed together.

Daemon nods, taking your hand into his and eagerly leading the way. 

You hum happily beneath your breath, keeping a keen eye on him as the two of you get closer, watching and waiting, watching and waiting until finally- there’s a catch in his breath, footsteps faltering as his head tilts, bemused. You feel the way his hand twitches in your hold, grip loosening as he glances back at you, confused until- a sharp intake of breath and the realisation of not, what he has killed but, who.

You slip your hand from his hold as he chokes on a gasp at the sight of his mistress, his whore, the Lady Gwendolyn. She is covered in a layer of mud, her usual gown replaced with a dirty and ripped tunic and pants, a strip of cloth tied around her mouth and gagging her. One arrow shot through her chest, nailing her to the tree behind her and the second through her neck; on the floor beside her lies the head of a stag. 

Three total. Two in the woods as we had hoped now, one. We will release the last one on your instruction.

“What is this?” Daemon speaks in abject horror.

“The last one,” you tell him grimly. 

Daemon continues to stare at Gwendolyn, dazed and not understanding what was happening as he watches blood drip from her wounds and onto her swelling belly.

“What have you done?”

“What have I done? What have you done?” you tut, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Do not fret, I granted her this small mercy, my last mercy,” you inform him, hand adjusting his collar. “A quick and clean death.”

Your words seems to bring him back to himself, horror and confusion short lived and replaced with a fury you had never seen before. It does naught to frighten you though.

“She was with child,” he turns on you, jaw impossibly tight as he spits the words at you; crowding you against a tree. “My child.”

“I know,” you tell him softly with a nod.

Your placidness unsettles him. You can see it in his eyes and the way he flinches at your touch when you brush his hair back from either side of his face.

“So heed this as my final warning for your betrayals. I won’t be so nice if there’s another one.”

Steadying yourself with a hand on his arm, you reach up and press a kiss to the side of his head, “happy name day, Daemon.”

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2024. All rights reserved.

[bookofbonbon]

I love Vampire Academy and Bloodlines so much!! Lissa & Christian, and Sydney & Adrian were my favorite couples. I loved the friendship between Rose and Lissa so much!

I don’t remember too much of the Vampire Academy books now (I read them about 12-15 years ago eeek) but I do remember how much I loved Rose & Lissa’s friendship + how much I loved the books because I absolutely devoured each of them at the time.

I confess I don’t know what Bloodlines is though 😬

[bookofbonbon]

Just a quick PSA - please share (and maybe save an account that's been wrongly/mistakenly terminated!)

For those that don't know my main account (@blogofbonbon) was abruptly terminated yesterday which had also resulted in all of my sideblogs (including this one) being terminated along with it!

I was lucky enough to have my main account along with all of my sideblogs reinstated within a short 24 hours without any issues however, I found from other people's experience that it took some of them days, weeks even months before their accounts were reinstated.

I still don't actually have an answer as to why this has happened but, the general consensus from those who have experienced it is that it's a mistake/glitch.

Anyways, I thought I'd just make a quick post about what to do if you find yourself in this position!

What does it look like when it happens?

Everything on my dashboard disappeared and nothing would load.

The tumblr app kept sending me notice over and over again that I was unauthorised to access/the connection had been dropped/I need to log in (despite not having logged out).

I didn't receive any notice or email from tumblr explaining or giving a reason as to why my account had been suddenly terminated.

When I attempted to login on desktop, it would just redirect me back to the login page.

When I attempted to go directly onto any of my blogs via their url, it would say that my blogs didn't exist - they were all just gone.

Your existing posts will not come up as 'deactivated00000000' next to your username in the same way that it does on a post from an account that has actually been deactivated - it displays your username as normal with the anonymous tumblr icon and nil option to click on your username.

What to do if this happens?

This post on reddit details in depth what to do but, I will summarise below.

There are three ways to go about it - only do ONE. If you do multiple it just backs up the system and takes longer for them to work through/process requests.

Reach out via Tumblr Support (this is the 'official' way to go about it).  https://www.tumblr.com/support -> select terminated account and provide details of what happened, your username and URL.

If you have twitter - send a tweet to @/tumblr or @/tumblrsupport (preferably tumblr support) with what happened, your username and URL.

Make a post on the linked subreddit above or DM u/tumblr_acct_help your username and URL.

I personally chose to go through Tumblr Support.

PLEASE NOTE:

If you go through twitter/reddit but, have genuinely violated Tumblr TOS - they will tell you they cannot assist you via twitter/reddit.

If you go through Tumblr Support - @goldensmilingbird found that apparently support tickets with emails attached to terminated accounts don't go through!

I can't speak to whether this is the case or not (using the email attached to the terminated account) as I had initially sent a support ticket through my (at the time) terminated accounts email but, I heeded the warning anyway and had sent a support ticket through a backup account of mine under a different email.

When sending a support ticket via a different email:

Provide details of what happened and again, provide your username, URL and the email attached to the terminated account!

What to do after?

Unfortunately once you have done those things, you just have to wait!

As I stated above, don't send multiple tickets/tweets/dm's/posts on multiple platforms as all it does is slow the process down and backs the system up.

If the termination of your account was a genuine mistake/glitch, your account should be reinstated without any issues HOWEVER, when it is reinstated it will likely happen without any notice or email from tumblr so, you just have to keep an eye on your blogs! Check your URL's every now and then throughout the day.

If you have genuinely violated the Tumblr TOS' then whether the issue is resolved and your account reinstated will be up to the discretion of Tumblr.

Hopefully this is helpful to anyone who needs it or to anyone who knows someone who may need it!

[bookofbonbon]

the ground beneath our feet - aemond targaryen.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!reader (third person - no name used).

Warnings: Mention of suicide. Angst.

Summary: Your relationship with Aemond has fallen apart as the war wages on and you remain his prisoner.

Prompts: My love for you is as firm as the ground we stand on (Mary & George 2024).

Word Count: 863.

The hem of her dress dragged heavily across the darkened sand. The treacherous sea binding itself to the satin material as it rose to the bottom of her calves, reaching higher and higher as the tide came in. Each step harder than the last as her bare feet sunk further into the unsteady ground. With the shore disappearing, every new current was stronger than the last and threatened to drag her under if she wasn’t careful. 

But careful she was. Though she loved the sea as every Velaryon before her and now has, death by drowning was not high on her list of ways to die. Although, in times - such as right now - when she found herself under the steady gaze of her estranged husband, she wondered if she might let the sea consume her out of spite. Alas, it was too late as sand turned to stone beneath her feet.

Beginning her barefoot ascent to Dragonstone, she walked carefully as she made her way back to the looming castle, weary of the deep cracks in the foundation as the stone crumbled and created an uneven ground of the eroding path.

Careful more so, however, of the Targaryen Prince awaiting her company on the first landing of many. 

“Must you come out here every day?” Aemond drawls once she is within ear shot. 

Quick to anger, she feels her ears grow hot as her head snaps up from the ground. Gaze finally meeting that of the man who insisted on stalking her every move. Not once could he allow her to suffer his presence in silence. There was always something to be said. 

“Must you follow me out here every day? I’m not a child, you need not watch over me as if I am one.”

Her fury however, is met with indifference as Aemond regards her coolly. The one-eyed Prince having grown accustomed to her anger-fuelled outbursts at him- of course, that didn’t make them hurt any less. But, she was predictable and always ready to be angry with him and despite his efforts, there was no balm he could give to soothe it. So, if her anger remained the one thing that she would give then Aemond would take as much of it as he could get.  

“Had you not gotten into the habit of wading further and further into the sea, gazing longingly upon its depths as if you may opt into disappearing into it at any given moment then perhaps I would not feel the need to supervise you as if you were one.” 

There's a beat of silence. A flicker of hurt in her now glassy eyes that she tries to wash away with a thick swallow that Aemond tracks with his one good eye. He didn't like her hurt, he didn't want her pain.

“So, the sooner you begin acting within reason, the sooner you will be left to your own devices. It really is that simple,” he finishes in the hopes of raising her temper but, it does more of the opposite. 

She visibly flinches, Aemond’s dismissiveness of her suffering hitting the soft spot in the back of her throat. 

"Is it?" The question catches him by surprise, his back straightening as he stares unblinking at her. She hadn't endeavoured to ask him anything more than a mocking retort of his own questions since the war started but, there was a sincerity to her voice that demanded an answer. "Is it really that simple?"

“It is.”

Another beat as she silently regards him. 

“Do you love me still?” 

Aemond’s eyebrows furrow, scar pulling inward from the motion as he takes offense at the question. 

“Still? I never stopped. My love for you has always been as firm as the ground we stand on. It is yo-”

“So if you claim to love me so, then am I your prisoner or am I your guest?”

“Guest,” he speaks too fast, lying without thinking. 

“Guest?" she smiles sadly. "Guests may leave as they please, so can I? Can I leave as I please?”

Aemond’s throat dries. The question hangs heavy in the space between them as he flounders for something to say, mouth agape but no sound coming out; the winds whistle and the crashing of the waves the only thing to be heard.

“Answer me, Aemond.” 

The shake of his head is slight but not un-noticeable. 

Aemond didn’t want her pain but it is all he got as it spills over and onto her cheeks.

"I take no pleasure in your captivity," Aemond tells her softly.

But then a sound, a sound he had not heard for a long time - a laugh. It’s slight and it's broken and it's watery and one clearly reserved only for herself but, a laugh nonetheless as she gestures to the ground around them. 

At the deep cracks in the foundation, at the fragile stones that bowed and bent and broke and created an uneven and unstable ground of the eroding path with each passing day.

“Look around you, Aemond,” she sighs. The same sad smile stretched across her lips. “The ground is not firm, it has crumbled beneath our very feet.”

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2024. All rights reserved.

[bookofbonbon]

❤🔥The Burning Hearts of Twin Dragons🔥 ❤

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Twin Sister!OC.

A/N: I went back and forth about whether to make them twins or not but, decided fuck it they're going to be twins. I am also so sorry for the 1+ year delay.

Description:

Twins were not a rare occurrence under House Targaryen. 

As it stood there were three sets under the Great House.

Lady Baela & Lady Rhaena of Prince Daemon & Lady Laena. Prince Jaehaerys & Princess Jaehaera of Prince Aegon II & Princess Helaena. Prince Aemond and Princess Aemma of King Viserys and Queen Alicent.

Unnaturally close from birth, the dragon twins had only ever seen one another as each other's other half, one soul dwelling in two bodies, one never to be seen without the other close by; the hot-tempered and unforgiving Prince harboring a feral possessiveness over his kind-hearted and mischievous twin sister that only seemed to grow with age. A feral possessiveness that the young Princess reveled in and used to her advantage much to the horror of their mother which would ultimately lead to their separation.

The existence of the youngest daughter of King Viserys would soon fade to the back of the people's minds. Like his youngest son, Prince Daeron, who had been sent to be with the Queen’s side of the family in Oldtown under Lord Ormund Hightower; the King's youngest daughter would be sent to live with his eldest daughter, the Princess Rhaenyra on Dragonstone at 12.

Many would forget her but not Aemond. Over several years, Aemond’s pleas for his twin sister's return would fall on deaf ears; many a fight had over the matter and many a time the young Prince turned away from Dragonstone in his attempts to bring her back and when the war eventually broke, the young Princess remained on Dragonstone.

Prince Aemond Targaryen would fight the war for the Iron Throne not out of a sense of duty or commitment to his King-brother and their family but for the return of his beloved twin sister to his side - the kinslayer more than willing to burn all of House Targaryen down to get her back.

-

Apart of: Send me a title and I'll come up with a description to match it.

[closed]

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2024. All rights reserved.

[bookofbonbon]

I’m dumb sorry! 🥺The one with it’s not greed it’s love is with Aemond!

My goodness, this has taken me so long to get to (over a year 😬) but, I got to it eventually - and no, not dumb at all!! thank you for clarifying and thank you re: war of hearts 🫶🏽

I'm not sure if you're still around but, if you are, I hope you like it 🥺.

Request can be found: here.

xx

[bookofbonbon]

It isn’t greed, it’s love.

This is for the titles section 👀 loved war of the heart.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lady-Regent Tyrell!Reader.

Description:

All throughout the Seven Kingdoms, tales were told of the lost Lady Tyrell, Regent of Highgarden. 

That when Prince Aemond Targaryen married, he did so out of duty- to his family and to the realm as he viewed marriage as nothing more than a political arrangement. Prince Aemond did not believe in love… until he met Lady Tyrell, Regent of Highgarden; the unfamiliar fluttering in his stomach stirring something unknown inside of him. 

But, all knew he couldn’t have Lady Tyrell. Not in the way he wanted- he was a taken man. A married man. However, that did not stop his want for her and the longer he went without her, the more the fluttering feeling inside of him festered into something all consuming.

The story that would prevail, would tell the tragedy of a young Prince Aemond driven to madness by his love for Lady Tyrell. 

Some would say his deep love for her caused him to kill her, for if he couldn’t have her then none could.

Most would tell of how the Prince Aemond locked her away;  some say in the cells deep beneath the Red Keep, some say in the hightower of Oldtown, others elsewhere - in all versions her wails are said to be heard if you listen close enough. 

There were few however, who once spoke of a Second Son driven by his greed, for power & wealth and a resistant Regent of Highgarden to his advances however, they, like the Lady Tyrell and this telling of the tale all disappeared under the watchful eye of Prince Aemond Targaryen.

-

Apart of: Send me a title and I'll come up with a description to match it.

[closed]

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2024. All rights reserved.

[bookofbonbon]

I love Harry’s natural curly hair!

His naturally curly hair is so lovely!

Still can’t believe that absolute mess of a choppy ass wig they put him through in the first season 🫠

[bookofbonbon]