letter seals

hey I just met you and this is crazy but you seem like a really nice guy and I am apologizing in advance in a poetically regretful yet staunchly determined handwritten letter sealed in wax with my insignia to be delivered to you after I’ve vanished upon the completion of my task but I’m probably definitely going to use you as a pawn in my shakespearean in magnitude revenge plot to end a blood feud

so call me maybe

The Coffeyville Weekly Journal, Kansas, June 29, 1894

A chatelaine bag was usually worn at the waist, but could also be carried at the wrist. Chatelaines were also made as belts, which eschewed the purse and became a ladylike tool belt; a hook with multiple hanging lobster claw appendages, each carrying useful items for the average Victorian woman: the pantry keys, smelling salts, perfume vials, miniature notebooks, magnifying glasses, letter openers, timepieces, seal applicators, miniature portraits or lockets, sewing tools (such as needle cases, scissors and thimbles), money and toilette articles, as well as decorative charms, such as fruits, fish or birds.

Here are a few examples of 18th and 19th century chatelaines housed at the Victoria and Albert Museum:


Bastard, was the only word written outside the scroll. No Lord Snow or Jon Snow or Lord Commander. Simply Bastard. And the letter was sealed with a smear of hard pink wax. “You were right to come at once,” Jon said. You were right to be afraid. He cracked the seal, flattened the parchment, and read.

Your false king is dead, bastard. He and all his host were smashed in seven days of battle. I have his magic sword. Tell his red whore.

Your false king’s friends are dead. Their heads upon the walls of Winterfell. Come see them, bastard. Your false king lied, and so did you. You told the world you burned the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Instead you sent him to Winterfell to steal my bride from me.

I will have my bride back. If you want Mance Rayder back, come and get him. I have him in a cage for all the north to see, proof of your lies. The cage is cold, but I have made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell.

I want my bride back. I want the false king’s queen. I want his daughter and his red witch. I want his wildling princess. I want his little prince, the wildling babe. And I want my Reek. Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard’s heart and eat it.

It was signed,

Ramsay Bolton,

Trueborn Lord of Winterfell. ― Jon XIII, A Dance with Dragons.

intertwined - dodie aesthetics

intertwined: silky sheets, vanilla candles, fire crackling, snowfall, hot cocoa, loose tresses of hair, dimmed lamps, sacks of letters, glowing lights, cozy pajamas, fluffy blankets, the feeling of being held

i have a hole in my tooth (and the dentist is shut): confetti, cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles, disco balls, roller rink lights, perfectly frosted cakes, sweet tea, untied shoelaces

absolutely smitten: clear skies, bright pastels, hiding behind books, spinning skirts, sunshine, love letters sealed with star stickers, sweaters with too-long sleeves, shared milkshakes

sick of loosing soulmates: blue and purplely sunsets, untied ribbons, matching tattoos, loosely held hands, playing piano in the dark, promise rings, pinky swears

when (live): locked diaries, sweet nostalgia, imagining, colorful calligraphy, oil paints, day break, birds flying overhead, post it note messages, soft lighting, new hope

slytherinbloodwhore  asked:

If you're still doing the hp sentences: Dramione, "I'm sorry, but I can't." 💕🖤✨🔪💚🍷

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Draco looked up from the pile of holiday invitations.  He’d been sorting them into things that they had to go to, things he wanted to go to - a much smaller pile - and things for which he planned to instruct his assistant to send their insincere but polite regrets.

“Can’t what?” he asked.

“This.”  Hermione gestured wildly at the pile of thick parchment with the embossed lettering and wax seals.  “I can’t do this.

“Parties?”  Draco asked.  She’d seemed a little off all weekend and her wan face had rushed from the breakfast table.  He’d assumed it was because they’d stayed out late with Blaise and Ginny, but, now that he thought about it, she’d only had sparkling water, so a hangover was right out.  “Are you getting sick?”

“I just can’t face all these people with their sneers and their… their… I can’t do it without alcohol.

Draco appreciated the sentiment.  He found the charity set intolerable without chemicals as well but politics ran on who you knew and so he made a point of knowing everyone.  “So have wine,” he said.  “Merlin knows, everyone’s always loaded at these things.”

“I can’t,” she said again, and when he looked up she had one hand across he abdomen in a gesture everyone knew meant pregnant.

“Really?” he asked, hope and fear warring in his voice.  A baby.  Their baby.  His parents would have to come around.  He’d buy the best toddler broom out there.  Their child would have his mother’s brains and his father’s flying skills, and… and… would she agree to a star name?  She’d have to, right?  She knew how much that meant to him.

“I love you,” he said.  He brushed all the invitations to the floor with a decisive gesture.  “I hate these things anyway.”

“I love you, too,” she said, and started to sniffle as he held onto her and their future.  “I love you, too.”

from the send me a Harry Potter ship and a sentence and I’ll write the next five game.  (no more please)

The late Emperor Augustus was in the habit, at first, of using the figure of a Sphinx for his signet; having found two of them, among the jewels of his mother, that were perfectly alike. During the Civil Wars, his friends used to employ one of these signets, in his absence, for sealing such letters and edicts as the circumstances of the times required to be issued in his name; it being far from an unmeaning pleasantry on the part of those who received these missives, that the Sphinx always brought its enigmas with it. The frog, too, on the seal of Mæcenas, was held in great terror, by reason of the monetary imposts which it announced. At a later period, with the view of avoiding the sarcasms relative to the Sphinx, Augustus made use of a signet with a figure upon it of Alexander the Great.

Pliny the Elder, Natural History 37.4, trans. John Bostock

things i love about this:

  • augustus changing his signet because people kept making riddle jokes
  • maecenas had a frog signet
  • people feared the frog signet

How to make your own sigils! As requested.

1. Pick a word or sentence that you want to be. I like to use present tense. Eg; protected, loved, strong, peaceful, etc.

2. Then delete all of the vowels and repeated letters.

3. (this is the fun part) Combine the leftover letters, I find that it’s fine to reverse or invert them, or use sections of letters as other letters.

4. Seal. Contain your sigil in a shape, squares, triangles and circles are good.

5. Charge. Every time your write your sigil, remember its intent. Feel it’s power. Imagine the ink is glittering with magick.

That’s how I do it! Probably different to others. Hope this is useful!!


Rick looks at his daughter.
She changed since they met Negan, but not in a bad way. She has become calmer, but there is still a glow in her eyes.
Maybe she is in love?
But with whom?
Daryl? Abraham? Eugene?
No, that’s ridiculous.
But there is another thing that makes him suspicious. She leaves Alexandria twice a week and he doesn’t know why.
“Follow her.” Michonne says, taking his hand in hers.
Since one hour he followed her through the woods until she stops at the point where the old RV stands. She goes inside and after a few seconds she leaves the RV towards Alexandria.
With a frown he goes in there and finds nothing except a sealed letter.
That’s all what stands on the letter.

A few days later he follows her again to the RV.
This time Rick has more luck, the letter isn’t sealed. Curious he opens it.

the things you wrote, I want to feel them.
I want to feel YOU.
I really wish the situation would be different so I don’t have to be ashamed.
You have no idea what you did to me. With each word you wrote you became a part of my heart.
The biggest part.

But I’m scared. Scared that my father or brother will find out.
What can I do?
What can we do?
I hope we get..’

“That’s not your fucking letter, Rick.” Negan stands in the doorway, his eyes full of anger.
“You. You fucking piece of shit!” Rick screams. The first blow hits Negan unprepared. Rick takes the opportunity and sits down on his chest.
“That’s my daughter! My little girl. You don’t take her away from me.” Rick tries to hit him again, but Negan throws him away from his chest. Quickly he stands up.
“Your daughter? She isn’t your daughter anymore. She is mine now. Face it, you lost her a long time ago.” Negan takes the letter from Rick and walks away.
Rick never felt something like this before.
Anger, betrayal, sadness and hate.
Hate against this fucker.
And if he should be honest, hate against his own daughter.
As fast as possible he runs back to Alexandria, looking everywhere for her.
“WHERE IS SHE?!” He screams towards Carl.
“Who?” He asks confused.
“Dad, what’s going on?” She asks him.
“What..” He looks at her, her worried eyes and he wants to shake her, screaming at her. But that wouldn’t be the right way. “You will not leave Alexandria. Ever.” Rick hisses in her direction and her eyes widen.
“But dad. Why? What happened?” She asks, touching his arm.
Suddenly he feels the hate again, the betrayal from his own daughter.
“I had a nice chat with Negan.” Rick hisses to her and she freezes in fear.

“Dad, you have to let me go.” She begs but Rick shakes his head. He told everyone that (Y/N) can’t leave the city. In the beginning they all were confused and curious, but they accepted it. The only person who knows is Michonne. She stared at him for a long time and asked him if he’s sure.
“He’ll come to Alexandria when he doesn’t get a letter or anything from me. Please.”
“You really think he likes you?! He just USES you as leverage against me.” She looks hurt and Rick feels like the worst father in the world.

'She was wrong, nothing has happened so far.’ Rick thinks, looking to Daryl who almost runs.
“Rick, we have a problem.” Daryl says and he follows him to the platform.
His eyes widen in shock as he looks over the wall.

@speightlover @applesandanxiety @rebelecho @sanguinekyanite @grindonmegrimes @comeatmebro377

UNTITLED (13/30)

What a silly place this is, the place where I found you—

half-naked in my bed, your body as familiar as a light switch

in a foreign room. I know what to do. Hold your face like wet clay.

The room, a potter’s wheel. Press lips like the wax seal of a letter.

I have nothing to send but this gullible mouth. How many of us

have fucked out of fear of dying? Give me your body. Let me wear it

as a salve or a bathrobe or a bath drawn early in the morning.

I promise not to deceive your family. I’ll explain you gave yourself

willingly and how that is only true if you believe in martyrs.

What a silly place this is, the place where I found you—

years after we painted gates on our tongues and left them

swinging. Didn’t speak for a thousand days. When I heard you

moved back to your mother’s place, I dreamt of black lakes.

When I heard you gnawed off your own fingers, I screamed

but they’re mine!

- Sierra DeMulder

The lavender-colored envelope arrived at the Howling Bard Brewery’s office in Lion’s Arch, delivered by a shimmery clockwork butterfly mail carrier.

Dear Kvasere,

I hope this missive finds you well and in good spirits.  My writing to you is long overdue, as I’ve exchanged words with your staff in the past regarding potential business.  We at Olivia’s Refuge are very much interested in perhaps stocking your fine brews at our local establishments.  Commerce is important to us as we grow, and fostering relations with Arch businesses is a priority for us.

If you are interested, I’d like to set up an event-style meeting between Howling Bard Brewery and our local hospitality-oriented businesses that includes a tasting of your latest concoctions for the business owners to sample.  I think it would be a mutually beneficial opportunity all around.  Please let me know your thoughts on my proposal and, if you see this as a potentially lucrative opportunity, do let me know dates that would work well for us to host you.

Looking forward to doing business with you, and may the stars light your path.

~Chancellor Lux Larkspur of Olivia’s Refuge

(( @kvasere !  And @sheriffshaniennemein to give a heads up!))