Like a Better Class of Death Eater

             Frankie woke up in a sunny clearing deep in the woods. The mud smelled like the beginnings of spring, he knew, because it was all over his face.  Frankie was, in fact, face down in the mud.  His hands were tied behind his back.  A moment of fruitless struggling proved his ankles also bound.  When he craned his neck to see his predicament better, the cords knotted around his wrists looked uncomfortably like braided sinew.  If only the knife he usually kept in his sleeve was where it should have been this would not have posed a problem, but Frankie’s captor left him bladeless, not to mention gunless, and minus several protective amulets. Whoever they were, they knew their job as well as he knew his own.

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anonymous asked:

Inquisitor, I... regret to inform you that the letter you sent me while on your expedition in the Emerald Graves was misplaced. I only found out after the scout ran into my office, face as red as embrium as they handed me the already opened envelope. None of the scouts will look me in the eye and Leliana shook her head when she next saw me. I still haven't read the letter. Yours, Cullen.

Andraste preserve me, that is the last time I take Iron Bull’s advice about maintaining closeness while apart. You will have to forgive me if I don’t repeat what was in the letter; as it is I may never be able to look Leliana in the eye again. May I suggest burning it? Or perhaps I could train one of Sister Nightingale’s crows to recite it so that the rest of Skyhold could be filled in as well.

Don’t look at me.



anonymous asked:

let's start a tom+waistcoat appreciation society please. i s2g the man kills me in any sort of outfit but waistcoats, man. fuckin' waistcoats.

I’M IN! Tom wearing waistcoats will effectively be my demise, just look at the man, ugh, why can’t he just go way, it would make my life so much easier haha: