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moonshine-nightlight · 1 year

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Nothing's Wrong With Dale - Part Seven and a Half*

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

*Please note this is a bonus/missing scene

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] Part Seven.5 [Part Eight] [Part Nine][Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two] [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You hold still as the tailoress and her assistants draw their measuring tapes around you.

After selecting your fabrics, the vendors needed to take down those displays to make way for various accessories and embellishments they also hope will be purchased. Some of the drapers sold those as well, but some independent milliners had also been invited to display their wares.

While that change was happening, both you and Dale had been whisked off to let the clothing-makers take new measurements, in your case, or updated measurements, in Dale’s. Grandmother went with Dale, saying she needed to ensure they knew that Dale would be recovering from the dip in weight caused by illness and she’d not have them forget take that into account, leaving you to manage on your own.

Your maid helps you out of your current dress, a light green one, and into the undergarments which you expect to be wed in. The chemise is a gift from your sister, with beautiful maroon ribbon throughout it, finer than any other such garment you usually wear. Then came a pair of white stays and your newer underskirts—corded to give your skirt the right amount of fullness for the current fashion trend.

The tailoress is efficient as she takes your measurements, keeping up a steady stream of chatter to her apprentice and letting you know ahead of time how she wanted you to move or if she was going to reposition you herself.

The curtains around this area make it easy to forget that on the other side of the room, Dale is also in some state of undress, but the thought is never far from your mind for whatever reason. You don't know why such a thought won’t leave your be–they certainly never bothered you before, either with regards to Dale or regarding other students at your school.

Instead, you try to distract yourself with the fashion plates Grandmother passed to you before she went with Dale. For all you are sure Dale shall choose a very fine suit pattern, the truth is there is less variety to men’s suits these days. He is likely to choose some fine embellishments and you’re sure his waistcoat will have high quality and elaborate embroidery, but the actual cut of the suit is unlikely to be a difficult decision.

Even for your own dress, the primary decision with the fabric chosen is the neckline, sleeves, and waistline. Even your options are not hugely disparate. Despite the tailoress working around you, with your maid’s help, you are able to study each plate and rank your top choices for Dale and Grandmother’s approval with relative ease. Between the efficiency of the tailoring process and the quiet, you are able to recenter yourself from how overwhelmed you had abruptly felt earlier and rejoin the Northridges’ in a more settled mindset.

You spot Dale, who has already finished with his fitting, inspecting some boots. When you join him, you frown in confusion at them–not sure what they have to do with wedding clothing accessories. Dale must read the confusion on your face as he says, “There is a fashion in the capital to have new boots fashioned for a wedding, in addition to the other clothing. Can you not tell these are specifically designed wedding boots?”

You stifle a smile behind a carefully raised hand, now able to tell when Dale is having fun. Beyond the fact that the shelf of boots, while of high quality leather, are indistinguishable from normal boots to your eyes, his eyes twinkle as he smiles down at you. His playful mood is infectious. “Of course, my Lord. How could they be anything but for such a specific and important occasion? Nothing like ordinary, everyday boots at all.”

“Alas, I do believe this will not be a fashion trend my Grandmother will entertain as anything more than an admirable attempt of the cobblers to wring some additional coin from our wallets.” He holds out his arm for you to take. “I must turn away from this display before I grow heartsick over what I cannot have.”

You barely resist the urge to shake your head at his dramatic playacting, but take his free arm without hesitation. “And what shall you distract yourself with instead?”

“Aside from my lovely bride’s presence?” You duck your head, not able to even look at him at such a tease–the original Dale would never say such a thing unless ironically, but it did not seem so with this Dale. But was there another meaning? Why did he express such sentiments? To flatter you? To what end? “Surely there are other decorations here which can catch our interest. Does any table in particular stand out to you?”

You scan the room, noting many milliners have quite different displays. Were they all told to focus on one accessory? Evidently not all, so you head for the table with the greatest variety of accessories. Everything from parasols to lace trimmings to bonnets are arranged for your viewing. You examine a shawl, wondering if, given the weather, one was necessary or if perhaps you should be reviewing the parasols instead. It would not due to be burned from the sun on such an auspicious day.

Dale wanders over to the table next to this one as something catches his attention while you continue to slowly circle the original table. While fashion these days requires many accessories, people varied in what they purchased new for a wedding. Many only polished up what they had or wore their best, the older or richer the noble family, the more was bespoke for the occasion. Northridge was not particularly wealthy, but they were an old house.

The cost for a wedding was also something that varied, often unspoken to those not involved unless one family wanted to show off their wealth or culture. Your parents had been very clear about the finances of your betrothal. You had a larger dowry than was typical for a youngest daughter of little distinction–nominally in the interest of seeing you well settled. Unofficially it was to see you settled quickly, with minimal digging into your past health issues.

Your mother had implied that they would see you dressed well, but no more than what was appropriate. That your dowry was already more than generous. You thought there had been a compliment mixed in with these instructions, when Mother said you were not one for frivolous adornment as it was and so should not find it hard to resist. Mostly having to be judicious with your wedding clothes had seemed like another thing you could not have. She had said if the Northridges’ wished for anything more well-to-do, they could cover the cost or take it from your dowry themselves.

So you knew precisely how much you had to contribute to your wedding clothing and it was for the dress alone, with perhaps one new accessory. You think through your clothing in your mind, trying to determine what you have that will do and therefore what item you should purchase to cover what you lacked.

“What do you think?” Dale has walked back over to show you some lace cuffs that are very finely worked. They might be the most expensive lace cuffs you’ve seen. Well, aside from your schoolmate’s, heir-apparent to the Jasika duchy, who loved lace above all else, including her considerable allowance. You resist your immediate response regarding how much they must cost and focus on their appearance alone.

“They are exquisite,” you say truthfully as you let him usher you over to the lace table he has been perusing. “They will go well with your suit.”

“I think so as well. Which do you think will go best with your dress?” Dale sets aside his own lace to look over the gauzier style usually attached to the ends of gown sleeves. “How long were you anticipating the sleeves to be?”

You blink. “Pardon? I was not going to. Not on my dress. Truly, I do not need the extra embellishment.”

Dale pouts. “But it is our wedding. If that is not the occasion for embellishment, what is?”

You struggle to find the right words to say that, as your dowry would go directly to Dale at the wedding itself, you did not control how it was spent, with only enough for the dress alone at the moment. The Northridges had acquiesced to that deal with no counters. That had been Grandmother and Grandfather, not Dale–did he not know that you could not afford such adornment?

“With the silk brocade for my fabric, I do not believe I require additional decorations,” you settle on, hoping he will understand.

He does not, frowning.

“What is that, dear?” Grandmother has rejoined the two of you. “Are you not preferential to lace? It is of the highest quality and locally produced. I had hoped you would consent to wearing a collar mantle of it as well, to match. I have seen that you prefer plainer dress–which speaks well to your modesty and sensibility. However, I should think this was an instance where such restraint was not required.”

Her words echo Dale’s own from earlier and you find yourself similarly unable to form an intelligent response. “Oh, no-that’s not it at all. I, I simply…” You wring your hands together as you try to find the words. How do one remind someone else they hold one’s pursestrings?

“Is this about the manner in which your parents divided your dowry?” Grandmother leans in close to say, “That is of no consequence. I assure you there is no better use for one’s dowry than on the wedding.”

Grandmother’s voice drops even lower, so none of the vendors can hear, “Pay no mind to the cost our enterprising entrepreneurs have listed. I will not have them overcharge us, however, a wedding is known to be a veritable catalyst to the local businesses and we intend for this one to be so as well.” She leans away and says in a clearer voice, “Indulge an old woman in spoiling her grandchild and his bride, will you not?”

Grandmother pulls away completely before you can respond, turning back to the table. “Some lace fringe for your sleeve caps would be lovely. Unless you wished for full length sleeves?”

“I,” you start to say before giving a slight shake of your head, trying to rally your thoughts. “No, as it will only be further into summer by the wedding. I had believed capped, shorter sleeves would be best.”

“As I anticipated,” Grandmother says, triumphant. “These are all suitable, which do you prefer?” She has selected four specific lace trims. You're still trying to catch up to the idea that Grandmother wishes to have you so fully outfitted for the wedding. In the end, you realize you’re waiting for Dale’s protest–that he would not want to waste your dowry that will be his on such trinkets for you.

Instead, he’s bent over the trims before he looks up at you. “I like the first and third, but of course the choice is yours, my Lady.”

You look down at the fine lace. Truthfully they are all very pretty and you have no preference. Reaching out, you pick up the first with one hand and the third in the other. Grandmother leans closer to see the details more clearly. She taps your left hand.

You nod. “Yes, I believe the third would be lovely with the brocade.”

“Wonderful,” Grandmother says, putting them over with Dale’s chosen cuffs. “Now, I am aware it is no longer an aspect of high society to wear gloves, but I am afraid I shall have to insist for the wedding.” Grandmother strokes her own light blue gloves.

Dale doesn’t appear to mind, merely walking over to the other side of the table to inspect the gloves available. When you start to follow, Grandmother steers you over to another table. “Missus Glass is where I purchase my own gloves and they are the superior ladies choice, I assure you. The softest and most comfortable by far.”

When you lean down to take a closer look at the options, Grandmother tuts, “It is not enough to look at these, you must try them on. Go on, dear. You shall be the one wearing them.”

She waits patiently, sharing stories about her other children’s weddings as you try on a variety of gloves for her benefit, eventually settling on a light cotton pair of gloves. After receiving Grandmother’s approval, with only minimal tutting at the open weave before she admits they were more than acceptable for summer, she goes over to where Dale was examining some canes.

You find yourself heading back over to the dress forms of Dale’s parents' clothing. Dale was to use his father’s handkerchief, but you are supposed to figure out some way to augment your own outfit with something from them as well. The obvious choice is some part of Dale’s mother’s silver, but that’s also the most delicate and well constructed part of the outfit. Anything you might take seems like a black mark against the way it is now, the whole it has managed to remain these years.

You slowly circle the form, trying to see how it is specifically put together and what seems the most easily removed without damage. You wonder what your parents might send in response to the letter you promised Grandmother you’d write. While aiding in your sister’s wedding, you heard all manner of comment about how weddings had changed, but your mother had never said anything about what became of her actual dress. Most likely she will provide jewelry of some sort, you think and so do not touch the jewelry on a pedestal nearby.

Perhaps…you move closer to inspect the round hat and its connected veil. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Dale walk over to join you, obviously in a far better mood from these days as opposed to yesterday's endless discussion.

“I was thinking that perhaps your mother’s veil would be the best way to incorporate some of her clothing into mine,” you say, gesturing to it pinned to the mannequin’s neck.

“A good idea,” Dale agrees, already reaching out to unfasten it. “The silver will go very well with your hair.”

You blush at the compliment, barely resisting the urge to reach a hand up and make sure he’s seeing the same plain hair on your head as you see. “The rest of the dress is so finely put together, I fear any other alteration could never live up to it.”

Dale nods absently as he takes the hat and veil from the form’s head. He turns you to a nearby mirror with confident hands on your shoulders. More quickly than you expect, he slips behind you to arrange the hat and veil onto your head. You freeze, not wanting to damage such an artifact. You feel Dale delicately arrange the veil and your hair, adjusting some braids so it sits better on your head.

“What a lovely idea,” Grandmother coos before she leans closer for a more critical look. “I don’t believe the hat suits you though—and it's not the fashion anymore.” You agree, it makes your hair an odd shape and the black would not go with your dress. “We shall have that piece detached from the silver train. The decrease in length shouldn’t be a problem since you’re shorter than Qiana as it is.”

“Are you certain? I wouldn’t want to damage it.” Remaking these items is what Grandmother spoke of, but it's such fine, delicate work.

“Nonsense, it is meant to be worn–not kept in a crate somewhere in the dark. Dale,” she asks imperiously, “fetch one of those little caps so we can see how the veil would look with it. We shall ensure your bride is the finest in years.”

You stare at your reflection, which thankfully does not look as bewildered as you feel. Everything is coming together so quickly and easily, it's as surprising as it is rather wonderful.

Dale smiles to you in the mirror and goes to do as he is bid.

[Part Eight]

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the1920sinpictures · 10 months

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1927 c. Salmon silk chemise dress trimmed in blue machine embroidery. The skirt has knife pleats and is edged in blue. From Fashion of Bygone Days, FB.

#1927 c. Fashion #1920′s Fashion #1920′s daywear #1927 daywear

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anamazingangie · 5 months

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In defense of ‘House of the Dragon’ costumes.

I doubt anyone will read this, but at least I can link to it instead of arguing with people.

I don’t even like the costumes that much, truly, but every fucking time the criticism is paired with examples of the costuming work on ‘The Borgias’, ‘The Tudors’, or even ‘Reign’. I have thoughts on the costumes from those shows too, but will readily admit they do have more detail and texture than most garments worn in HotD.

HOWEVER

Whenever I hear these mentioned in comparison I want to scream.

Tudors is set in 16th-century England.

Borgias is in 1490-1500 Italy

Reign [allegedly] depicts mid 16th century Europe.

None of these have examples of medieval fashion. The middle ages spanned from the 5th century to the 15th (and by then, the renaissance movement had come to Italy, so the Borgias does not depict medieval clothing, either.)

ASOIF is a fantasy universe, true, but GRRM has stated many times that the Middle Ages served as a basis for the world he created and that historical realism was an important grounding factor for making the universe feel real, too.

I think it’s fair to say this should apply to clothing, just as it applies to decor, atmosphere, and technological advancements in both the books and the show. Clearly it is supposed to replicate the middle ages, or a very similar equivalent in Westeros.

I’m happy to suspend some disbelief given the fact it is a fantasy setting—for example none of the garments in GoT were historically ‘accurate’ but the more traditional gowns kept a silhouette and stylistic details that were similar to garments from the 15th century [most pointedly Sansa’s and Cersei’s gowns from the earlier seasons] which would fit the period in history that influenced the books.

I genuinely think HotD was trying to do something similar, drawing from fashions from the slightly earlier 1300s/1400s—which follows with the established timeline.

And, obviously, that is very much not the time period shown in borgias, reign, or the tudors. It is in fact HUNDREDS of years earlier.

To put this into context:

Comparing the 1300s to the 1500s is equivalent to comparing your wardrobe to what is in a Jane Austen film.

Comparing the 1500s to the 1700s is like comparing civil war era uniforms to what is worn by the military today.

A lot changes in 200 years.

And you know what? Garments in the 1300s weren’t that pretty.

Almost all of them lacked closures, which meant they went over the head and were shaped with belts or ties.

Corsets were not worn during this period so any sort of tight, supportive, and shapely bodices in this era is a thing of fiction.

Though layers were often worn, they were typically only visible at the hems and not the neckline [so the layers of a partlet/visible chemise as seen in the 16th century was unlikely, too].

In fact the only realistic depiction of this period I've seen in costuming is on the show “Hollow Crown” and do you know what those dresses looked like? Well…

Not to mention this is a difficult period to research in general since so little paper survived. This website has timelines for fashion, and where the 15th century page features a dozen examples for each decade, the 14th century page has less than a dozen examples TOTAL.

Now I’m not saying the costumes couldn’t have been better. I do think fabrics with more texture could have made even the simple gowns look more interesting, and I wish the amazing embroidery that we saw hints of was better utilized.

But, I think given the historical examples the designer was probably tasked with interpreting in a fantasy setting, the costumes are just not going to be as fantastic as what you see in dramas from later periods.

(The wigs however were unforgivable, i’ll give you that, lol. )

ALSO I'm not saying you can't complain about them or think they were ugly. I'm just saying that if you are going to compare them to something, please compare them to garments from other fantasy dramas, or things that actually take place in the same period.

Ok. Rant over.

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #costume design #costume #targaryen #hbo #historical #medieval fashion #middle ages #medieval dress #rant

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zubata-zhaba · 9 months

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This sketch has been around since 2017 and I guess it will never be more finished than this.

A couple of samodivas, some things more true to traditional beliefs than others - I gave them different complexions to reflect Bulgarian women, whereas traditionally they are blonde-haired and black-eyed. Their powers are stored in their chemise, which is unornamented (embroidery is to protect mortals). The different sleeves are based on different 19th-century and medieval chemises from Bulgaria and neighbouring regions. In some beliefs they wear colourful (but mostly green) belts, and green zubuns (outer garments). They are also typically imagined to be archers, riding six-winged deers.

#bulgarian folklore #folklore #bulgarian mythology #balkan mythology #slavic mythology #slavic folklore #balkan folklore #balkan #slavic #samodivas #samodiva #самодиви #artists on tumblr #sketch

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shevitsa · 1 year

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Embroidered chemise sleeve from Pernik region, Bulgaria. | Шевица от ръкав на женска риза, Пернишко (Граово).

(source: Bulgarian National History Museum)

#Bulgaria #Shopluk #Pernik #Graovo #embroidery #chemise embroidery #folk clothing

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dragons-r-cool · 16 days

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Starting a *regency* project!!!!

I'll be attending a regency inspired ball in June, so I've been planning out a full regency outfit to make specially for the event. I've never done regency before (I'll even admit that I never liked the look of it, but it is growing on me...), so I've had to do some research for this project.

This is what I have planned:

- A chemise/shift I made previously

- Short stays

- Petticoat (with straps/suspenders to stop it slipping down to my waist)

- Dress (green with gold embroidery and beading)

- Potentially an open robe/overdress (ive seen these on some fashion playes for ball gown, and it may be a good way to have a train without ppreventing me from re-wearing the dress day to day. It would be gold, with a train, crossing under the bust at the front)

- A gold ring I already own, and a green ribbon around my neck, potentially some more gold jewellery

- Black leather boots

- Stockings that I made previously

- Reticule (Potentially sewn, or I've come across a crochet pattern...?)

I've decided to document this project here so that I can look back on it and see the progress I've made. (If someone other than me actually sees this, then I encourage you to try some historical clothing, I wear it day to day and love it!!!)

#historical #historical fashion #regency #history bounding #stays #corsetry #sewing #diy

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discountalien-pancake · 2 years

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The defeat in question:

Literally 30 boxes left of the approximately 275 needed to complete the row. FML

#the embroidery floss i used is also a little too cool toned but it’s less important lol #the antis discord still lives #pancake talks lacemaking #pancake makes the chemise a la belle #for those of you wondering what happened to the glass gown #it is still happening! i just decided to outsource my corsetmaking to a friend #so i can’t continue until he sends me my corset because that requires a much more carefully fitted bodice #the chemise a la belle is literally going to be held together by ribbons and drawstrings

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 1 year

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yennskier and 27 please 🌻

27. Fixing their hair/clothes just before they run out the door

Here's some post-season 2 softness! Geralt doesn't appear, but you can assume there's some background Geraskefer going on.

“Fuckity fucking buttons,” Jaskier grumbles under his breath. “Who the fuck decided that buying a doublet with a million tiny buttons was a good idea?”

No one answers, because Geralt and Ciri are out hunting some beastie or another. But if Geralt was here, he would surely point out that it was Jaskier who commissioned this doublet from one of the finest tailors in Oxenfurt months ago. And it’s a marvelous piece of craftsmanship—periwinkle silk with deep blue embroidery and rows of tiny pearlescent buttons fastening up the front and the sleeves.

It’s just that post-fire fucker, Jaskier’s fingers, which still get numb and tingly at inconvenient times, aren’t quite up to the task. They fumble over the delicate buttons and he keeps fastening them up wrong, then having to redo it.

Sometimes, being the Continent’s most fashionable bard is a burden.

Yet again, Jaskier realizes that he’s fastened the last three buttons up wrong, leaving an awkward gap and making a terrible mess of things. Breathing hard through his teeth, he accepts that this may be too monumental a task for one man. He slips out of the room he and Geralt are sharing—looking around to ensure that no one sees him in such a slovenly state—before knocking on the door of Yennefer and Ciri’s room.

“What, bardling?” Yennefer calls through the door.

Jaskier sighs. “I need your help.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done. You’re far beyond help.”

“I haven’t even told you what the problem was!”

“You don’t need to.”

“Yennefer.” He lets a whine creep into his voice, because he knows it will make her roll her eyes. “Please.”

There’s a longer-than-necessary pause, undoubtedly while she finishes her glass of virgin’s blood and tucks away her cloven hooves, before Yennefer opens the door and scowls up at him. “What is it?”

Jaskier gestures to himself. “I can’t get the buttons to cooperate and I told the innkeep I’d sing for our suppers tonight. I can’t do that looking like this.”

She arches one eyebrow, but steps backwards to let him into her room. “You normally don't object to walking around with your doublet hanging open."

“Yes, but we’re trying to keep a low profile and we can hardly do that if every maiden in the village falls swooning at the sight of my hirsute chest.”

“Yes, a low profile.” Yennefer looks him over pointedly. “I’m sure dressing like the Passiflora’s finest in a Koviri backwater won’t draw any attention.”

Jaskier takes in her black lace gown. “What about dressing like the witch that locked the fairytale princess in the tower?”

She snorts and bats his hands away, undoing several buttons deftly before beginning to refasten him. He can feel the warmth of her hands through the thin, silky fabric of his chemise. For a moment, he loses himself in watching her nimble fingers work. She has such small, pretty hands. He would think them delicate, if not for the fact that he’s seen her snap a man’s spine with a flick of one of those lovely fingers.

It’s not until she looks up at him in annoyance that he realizes she said something. “Yes?”

“Your fingers are still bothering you?” she asks.

“Occasionally,” Jaskier says with a shrug. “The pads of my thumb and forefinger just get a bit numb sometimes. It doesn’t get in my way too much, only when dealing with absurdly tiny buttons.”

“That shouldn’t still be happening.”

“Geralt took me to a real hack of a healer, the stingy fucker.”

Yennefer pinches him through the doublet, which he deserves. He whines pathetically, because he knows it will make her happy.

“I’ll mix you up another salve tonight.” She fastens up the buttons at his throat, her fingers so close he can’t resist dipping his chin to kiss them. She flicks his nose in retaliation. “Try to actually use this one for its intended purpose.”

“It’s not my fault you put the last salve next to my tea! Accidents happen.”

“Only to you,” she says as she buttons up the last button and steps back.

Jaskier tugs at his collar, grimacing. “Well, you don’t need to button me all the way up. We wouldn’t want to deprive the lovely ladies of Kovir of all my charms. There are so few charms to be had in Kovir.”

Yennefer makes a disgusted noise, but unbuttons the top three buttons of his doublet. “That’s as far as I’m going. The lovely ladies of Kovir should be spared the sight of your nipples. This damn kingdom has enough problems.”

“If you want to keep my nipples all to yourself, Yennefer, you only have to ask.”

Yennefer tips her head back and guffaws. “I think that ship has sailed, given how low you normally keep your doublets open.”

“You’re right. If nothing else, Geralt might object.”

She rolls her eyes at him as she buttons up his sleeves. When she’s done, she steps back. “Alright, you’re perfectly fit to play in a dusty Koviri tavern to a room full of uninterested drunks.”

“Sweet words of encouragement like that soothe the poet’s soul.” Jaskier clasps his hands to his chest.

“Go play your set, bardling.” Her lips curl into a smile. “And do let me know if you need help unbuttoning yourself after your performance.”

Jaskier finds himself grinning stupidly. “And yet another maiden finds herself swooning before—”

“Get out before you talk too much and I take back my offer.”

“Leaving now.” Jaskier backs towards the door. “Thank you, Yennefer. You’re a jewel of generosity, as always.”

She waves a dismissive hand, but she’s still smiling.

If Jaskier has an extra spring in his step for the rest of the night, well, who can blame him?

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

#the witcher #yennskier #yenskier #jaskier x yennefer #jaskier/yennefer #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #ghost's writing #prompt fills

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