#I had her tell Alistair we should just fuck off to another country to avoid the Blight LOL

[angeltannis]

Duncan, in his dying moments: At least I know…Ferelden is in good hands…

[a few days later]

The Mayor of Redcliffe: Grey Wardens! Our town is overrun by vicious undead. We fear we won’t last another night.

Frey: Damn, that sucks. Not really seeing how it’s my problem, though.

The Mayor: But-

Frey: So yeah, good luck with that. Peace ✌️

(Morrigan approves +5)

[melancholyblues0]

𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊

𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝓃𝑒 : 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓃𝓎

brian may x reader series

warnings : swearing, alcohol, future chapters will have smut so... be aware of that ig lol. like tiniest mention of weed

a/n : thinking of making this a bit of a series but we’ll see ? i also have a heavy week of exams next week but i am free from school for like three months (yay fucking hey) so i’ll try to prepare a second chapter because we all know i won’t revise lol. also loosely based off of a roger taylor x reader fic i read a while ago ! i can’t remember the name/author, but if i find it again i’ll tag the author. all characters are mine, aside from brian may/anita. thank you for reading ! this is set in 1994, and freddie doesn’t die/ john doesn’t retire because we’re not gonna deal with that kettle of fish in this fic.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

it wasn't raining today, surprisingly. it wasn't as if it was unusual for the uk - it was always like this - rain, and then a week straight of blazing hot sun. you could even say you'd grown to love it. you'd enjoyed playing with little anya colston the day before, the thirteen year old who lived next to your parents. you'd been in the pool her parents owned, when you heard of a new couple moving in two doors down. rumours had gone round of the husband being famous, but for what you nor anya knew. you both just hoped they wouldn't be as dull and empty as the other adults were (something you and anya had bonded over - your mutual hatred for prissy adults).

~~~

"y/n, darling, please hurry up. you know your father and i don't want to be late." your mother called up the stairs, watching as y/n slid down the bannister. "and the countless times you've slid down the bloody bannister. you'll break your neck one day." she added, sighing as she gave you a once over. "where's xavier ? xavier, hurry up !" she called, and the heavy footsteps of her older brother sounded above them. "why is he always allowed to be the last one out, but i get a bollocking if i am ?" y/n groaned, sitting on the step. "because, you know how xavier's like." your mother said, sighing as xavier finally made an appearance. you huffed as she stood up, and stalked towards the door, xavier not far behind you. 

the second the family entered the maybank home, your mother made a beeline for the champagne flutes on the breakfast bar; your father to the men outside (also where more alcohol was), and xavier followed suit, albeit reluctantly. and although you could think of nothing worse than talking to the women, you followed your mother - entirely for the champagne. "y/n ! how are your a levels going ?" diane asked, peering at you over her wine glass. "i think she's doing alright - she did drop literature for psychology, but i suppose it's better than what she could've chosen." your mother smiled patronisingly. "oh ! darling, this is anita - she's just moved in." diane smiled, gesturing to the woman next to her. you had to admit, she was beautiful. and even better, she didn't share the same patronising smile your mother and the other women donned constantly. "it's nice to meet you, anita." you smiled, taking a sip from your flute. "not too much, sweetheart," your mother said. always the one to take the fun out of everything - and what was the point in not being able to drink; these gatherings were hardly tolerable sober, and you were seventeen. "i'm gonna go find the kids." you muttered, snatching your glass from the table. 

soon enough, you found three girls, only a few years younger than you, sat by the pool. "y/n ! c'mere !" anya called, waving her hand. you made your way to the girls, and anya introduced you - louise was the older girl, recently turned fifteen, and emily the younger, was ten. they were the daughters of the new family, so you and anya made sure to give them the run down on who was who. dominique and otis rains, your own parents; they only had you and xavier. diane and emanual colston were anya's parents (admittedly the least snobby), and had anya and carlson, who was louise's age. then there was adrianna and henry maybank, who had mina (the only girl your age, but after her parents found the pot you frequently smoked under her bed, they sent her to boarding school somewhere out west in the country). florence and alistair bohr (florence was the youngest and prettiest, but the one who tried the hardest. alistair was a sixty - something year old ceo. in your eyes, a perfect match). then finally, there was louise and emily's parents, anita and brian may. they said they also had an older brother, jimmy, who, when you looked over, looked deep in conversation with xavier. the girls appeared to sound equally as disdained by the adult snobbery as you and anya were (mina also - speaking of, it was a shame she wasn't here. you thought she'd broken up from school by now). you warned the girls of the sunday brunches too. it was either you tired yourself out by playing tennis, or you drinking sangria's and champagne with the women, who all ogled the fit male tennis players and bartenders, and seemingly had endless shit to talk.

you glanced up at the men - the very people you found trying to avoid at all costs, but you were curious as to who this brian was. you could've sworn you recognised his name, but from where you couldn't recall. as you scanned the group, you noticed an unfamiliar mop of curly hair - in which became familiar to you very quickly. how could you not know ? that was when the memories of your poster clad walls, concerts that left you and mina with sore throats, and various records with those four faces adorned across the front strewn across your bedroom floor rushed back. "one second." you murmured to the girls, as you got up, and dusted off your skirt, making a beeline towards the group in a spurt of confidence. 

"y/n ! i was wondering how you had been with those women for so long, i didn't see you leave. this is brian, our knew neighbour." your father smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "my youngest, y/n." your father grinned to brian, and you looked up at him. and christ, you knew he was tall, but he was a bloody giant. "i think what my father really means is that it'll be nice for another man around. he's getting bored of these three dinosaurs." you grinned, the same cheeky grin you'd inherited from your father. "glad to know you don't seem like the others." he laughed, shaking your outstretched hand. "god no, i like to think i taught her better than to end up like those women. in secret, of course, the missus would slaughter me." your father laughed, the others following suit. but you liked the look of brian, a lot. more than you should, but who could blame you ?  you'd practically been in love with the man since you were twelve. not that you would tell him of course. and then you heard the squeal, one you'd known all your life - mina was here. "i'll be back." you smiled uneasily, and rushed inside to find the tall brunette in the doorway. "get here you silly bitch !" she shouted, barrelling into you, tackling you to the ground. "language, mina." adrianna sighed, tossing the keys onto the shelf near the door. she too, like your mother had, rushed to the wine and the women. she needed a drink, after picking up her spritely daughter and managing to cope for a two hour car ride. you and mina rushed upstairs into her bedroom, and you slammed the door behind you. "right, do not freak out. we have new neighbours." you began, looking at mina's flushed face. "and ?" she asked,

"it's brian may."

"it's who, now ?"

"brian may."

"brian may ? the new - new - new guitar guy ? the man we've been gushing over since before we had tits ?"

"yeah, that's the guy."

mina laughed, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. "good god. glad you haven't pounced him yet. if it was roger, i know i would've." she smirked, making sideways glances to her own queen poster above her bed - that had been signed by every member during their '86 tour. "well, not only is his wife and three kids downstairs, he was bombarded by males. shame, really." you joked. 

"kids ?" she gasped, hopeful they were like anya. 

"thankfully, louise and emily are exactly like anya." you smiled. 

"i'll finish this later. i wanna meet the newbies." she wiggled her eyebrows, running out of her room, with you tow.

[dragonagethistle]

Holy Shit - Chapter 5

Thank you all for bearing with me on this. Here is Chapter 5 (finally)

@mapplestrudel @kagetsukai @whiskeyeyedcullen @windysuspirations 

Read on AO3 here

Cullen shook his head at the strange woman and turned back towards the hall. The guest room was cozy but not small. A large bed lay flat against the far wall with two pillows and a thick, gray blanket neatly folded on the end. Cullen momentarily wondered at the half-sphere attached to the ceiling that seemed to be the source of light filling the room before closing the door behind him and changing. The odd pants wouldn’t be comfortable for sleeping but he supposed he could remove them before crawling under the covers. For now however, he had some questions for Farrada and he had exposed enough of himself for the night. For much longer than that, really.

The living room felt even colder when Cullen returned and for a moment he considered turning back to grab the blanket from the guest room. But then Farrada returned and Cullen nearly felt his heart squeeze at the sight of her.

Her eyes were wide and a large grin was spread across her face. She looked happier than Cullen had seen her since he had crossed the threshold into her home. Her skin was flushed and drops of rain clung to her red hair, glowing like jewels. Her grin grew even wider when her eyes met his and Cullen felt himself involuntarily return the expression.

“I love the rain,” Farrada stated. She moved across the room to a fireplace concealed by a small stack of boxes, giving Cullen a wide berth as she passed him. She continued to speak as she shuffled boxes around to free up the space in front of the fireplace.

“I grew up in England and it rained all the time. Everything was so beautiful. I remember the sky usually being dark and the grass and the trees were green all year. Nothing ever died. And in the mornings fog would cling to the ground and I’d run around the playground and imagine I was running through the clouds…”

She trailed off and looked at him, embarrassment written plainly on her face. “I’m sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”

Cullen smiled gently and moved to help Farrada clear more boxes, eager to have a fire warm the room and erase the hours he had spent in the rain. “Don’t be. I am not sure what ‘England’ is and I’m not one for the rain personally, but it sounds like you found it to be lovely.”

The smile was back on her face and she spoke again as she moved the last of the clutter in front of the fireplace. Cullen moved back as she opened the glass doors in front of the fireplace to let her light it. “England is another country across the ocean. Miles and miles from here. I moved from there to a desert. It hardly rained and the grass and trees were only really green for a few months of the year. You can imagine how dismayed I was when we first moved there.”

Cullen frowned, watching her as she spoke. She didn’t have a flint or matches and she wasn’t making a move to find them. Instead she kneeled down in front of the fireplace. Cullen saw her wrist flick and suddenly a small flame was in the fireplace, licking along the logs.

Mage.

He didn’t think. In a heartbeat he had gripped her shoulder, ripped her around to face him, and seized her throat. He was inches from her, kneeling over her and pressing her back into the brick before the fireplace, and without Lyrium he wouldn’t be able to cancel out her spells, but he had to contain this new threat. His stomach clenched at the panic on her face and the tears in her eyes but he ignored it and squeezed.

“Apostate. Why have you brought me here?” He growled and loosened his grip slightly to allow her to answer.

Stars exploded behind his eyes as Farrada’s knee connected solidly with his groin. Cullen fell back and curled up into himself, gritting his teeth and willing himself to resume control of the situation. But Farrada had scrambled out of his reach, coughing as tears streamed down her face.

“Well hey, at least this time I didn’t freeze when someone grabbed my throat,” her voice was rough and she let out a dry laugh. “I’m sorry about that, Cullen. You said you weren’t sure why you were here. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d know anything about 21st century technology.”

Cullen forced himself to straighten out and stood, glaring down at Farrada. She raised her fists warningly and a few tears continued to stream down her face but her voice was steady when she spoke.

“Magic isn’t real.”

Cullen snorted. “You are trying to make me lower my guard.”

“I mean it. Magic doesn’t exist here. Never has.” The flatness in Farrada’s voice caused Cullen to pause.

“Explain the fire then,” Cullen said, gesturing towards the flames.

“There’s a dial next to the fireplace - see? That round thing to the right of the glass doors,” Farrada’s fists uncurled as she spoke and she started rubbing her throat. Maker, it was already bright red.

Cullen managed to tear his gaze from the vague shape of his hand print on her neck and noticed the round knob she had indicated. “What does that do?”

“That controls the fire. Turn it counter-clockwise and it’ll stop the flame.”

Oh maker, her voice, Cullen’s heart squeezed but he had to make sure she was telling the truth. I did that to her. He kneeled down, making sure his back wasn’t turned to her, and turned the knob counter-clockwise as she instructed. The fire died. He turned the knob clockwise.

The flames roared back to life.

Cullen rocked back, startled. Farrada let out another dry chuckle.

“Welcome to the 21st century.”

“The what?”

Farrada frowned and moved towards the fire. She sat on the floor, close enough to feel some of the heat but out of Cullen’s reach. “You really don’t know where you are, do you?”

“I truly don’t.” Cullen ran his fingers through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. “I am in over my head, I think.”

“Ok, um, let’s start simple. How did you get here?” Farrada’s voice was still raspy but it was already improving. That blasted red mark was still branded across her throat though.

I did that…

“Cullen.”

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out and felt his face flush. “You took me into your home and I attacked you. I should go.”

He stood to leave but Farrada seized his hand with both of hers as he moved past her. Cullen started - she hadn’t touched him at all and had, in fact, been attempting to avoid any proximity with him since that moment in the wash room he realized.

“Cullen,” she said again, and her voice was steady. She looked up at him with her emotions written plainly on her face and those eyes. Maker, I could lose myself in those eyes. “Stay, please. Let me help.”

Was that desperation in her voice?

“Why?” Cullen broke first, looking away from her face and down at her hands, still clasped around his. Her hands looked so small compared to his, and he noticed with curiosity what appeared to be a metal fox coiled around one of her fingers.

“Because you’re here. Cullen Rutherford is in my apartment, lost and confused, and I just want to help him.”

Cullen stiffened and pulled his hand from hers. “I never told you my last name.”

Farrada’s eyes went wide and her hands flew to cover her mouth. “Shit, you’re right.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes down at her. “Start talking. Now.”

“I still don’t know how you got here! I can’t explain,” Cullen started to move towards the door and Farrada stood. She reached down and yanked her right sleeve up harshly. “Look!”

Cullen couldn’t hide his shock as he glanced down at Farrada’s exposed arm. It was covered from shoulder to elbow in various markings, most of which Cullen couldn’t recognize. But there were three large symbols in a line down the side of her arm and those he knew.

The Warden Commander’s Symbol was etched on her skin starting at her shoulder. Underneath that lay the crest of the damned Champion of Kirkwall. And beneath that a black eye with sunrays behind it and a sword speared through it lay just above Farrada’s elbow.

How in Andraste’s name does she have the bloody Inquisition’s Crest on her?

Cullen reached out slowly to graze the line of familiar symbols down her arm. He ignored the way she tensed as his hand approached her - he needed to know what he saw was real. He grazed the symbols with the tips of fingers and vaguely felt scars beneath the lines of the images.

“I don’t know how else to say this, Cullen, so I’ll just say it. You’re not real.”

Cullen blinked. He looked up from her arm to her face, trying to find the hint of a joke. So far he had noticed that Farrada seemed unable to hide her emotions - her face was like an open book. But her expression was serious.

“Explain how you have these, then.”

“They’re from a series of video games,” Farrada started. “Dragon Age.”

“Of what?”

Farrada made a noise of frustration and ran both hands through her hair, looking up to the ceiling as if trying to find guidance and keeping both hands at the back of her neck, fisted in her hair. “How the fuck do I explain this...” she trailed off, biting her lower lip while her gaze remained locked on the ceiling.

Cullen’s head spun, trying to make sense of the situation unfolding around him. How can I not be real?

“You’re Ferelden. You want tea? I’m making tea.”

“What?” Cullen felt his jaw drop in confusion. “You just told me that I don’t exist and your solution is tea?”

“Yes.” Farrada didn’t wait for an answer, she simply turned and walked towards the kitchen. Cullen remained where he was, still frozen in confusion as Farrada continued speaking from the other room.

“There’s this set of… interactive stories. The first is about the fifth blight and the Warden -” Cullen watched her through the door of the kitchen as she lifted a lever and water flowed from a spout into what resembled a kettle.  “I played that one through three times. I think my last play-through I was the human noble Cousland so I could make my character marry Alistair.”

“King Alistair is married to Cousland, though,” Cullen interrupted, still confused. “Moria Cousland, now Therin.”

Farrada snorted and set the maybe-kettle on a round base. She flipped a switch at the base and moved on to finding two tea mugs. “Yeah, I was always bad at coming up with names. ‘Moria’ is from another set of stories. You alright with Chamomile?”

“I would prefer mint, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Farrada nodded, riffling through an assortment of small, colorful boxes while she continued.

“Dragon Age 2 focused on the Champion. You were in that one a lot. Not as much as Dragon Age: Inquisition though.”

Cullen was shocked. “My life… the Warden, the Champion, the Herald… It was all just a game to you?”

“Cullen, I told you. You’re not real.”

He didn’t know what to do. Cullen crossed the threshold into the kitchen and grabbed Farrada’s hand and pushed it against his chest, forcing her to feel his beating heart. “If I’m not real, how am I here?” He was pleading for an explanation and she knew it.

Farrada’s face fell and she jerked her hand away, though Cullen offered little resistance. “I don’t know, Cullen. This doesn’t make any fucking sense. Imagine how you would feel if one of Varric’s characters showed up on your doorstep.”

It was his turn to laugh dryly. “I’d probably drag them down to the dwarf and demand an explanation.”

There was a clicking sound and Farrada turned back to the kitchen. Cullen watched as she grabbed the strange object he was now sure was a kettle and poured steaming water into two small, red mugs. She worried at her bottom lip as she worked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was doing so. For a moment Cullen pictured placing his thumb on her chin to force her lip from between her teeth, but he shook his head and cleared the intrusive thought away.

“Do you want sugar? Or honey?” Farrada asked as she placed a tea bag into each mug.

“Neither, just the tea is fine.”

Farrada nodded distantly, staring at the steaming mugs and avoiding eye contact with Cullen once again. He coughed awkwardly and his hand flew to the back of his neck,a nervous habit he would normally scold himself for but this situation was hardly normal.

“So that’s it?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Cullen,” Farrada’s exasperation crept into her voice. Her arms were crossed over her chest and Cullen noticed her white-knuckle grip on one arm as she dug her nails into her own flesh.

“In all honesty, I’m freaked out. A video game character is in my apartment. A fictional person is standing in my living room waiting for a cuppa tea. What the fuck am I supposed to say in this situation, Rutherford?” Her words came more rapidly as she spoke, the grip on her arm visibly tightened until Cullen was sure she would bruise herself, and her throat still bared the brand of his hand...

He let out a long sigh. “I suppose Varric would say it best, so I can only quote him here,” Farrada looked up at him expectantly, pale green eyes meeting his soft, amber gaze. “Well, shit.”

She smiled shakily. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this day has been more shitty for you than me.”

Cullen shrugged. “I woke up in a strange world and my feet lead me here. You are the one that let a stranger into her home only to be attacked…” he trailed off, still unable to tear his eyes from Farrada’s neck.

“Yeah, well,” she busied herself with removing the tea bags and adding sugar to her own mug. “Luckily I have a large collection of scarves. Just… don’t touch my neck again, ok?”

Cullen winced at the memory of her knee connecting with his groin and nodded enthusiastically. “Consider it done.”

Farrada pressed a mug towards Cullen, avoiding eye contact with him once again. He could have sworn there was a slight blush coloring her cheeks as he took care not to let their fingers touch when he took the mug from her. You’ve already put the poor girl through enough, Rutherford. Just drink your tea and leave her alone.

She took her own mug from the counter and slid out the doorway to her kitchen past Cullen. He watched as she moved towards the sofa and tucked herself in the corner closest to the fire, pulling her knees close to her chest and wrapping both hands around the small red mug. It was then that Farrada noticed another tea mug sitting on a small table in front of the couch and she let out a laugh, small but still somehow musical. The sound brought a smile to his own face.

“I completely forgot that I already had tea,” Farrada explained as Cullen took up a spot on the ground near the fire. “It’ll be cold as hell now. Guess I could’ve just heated that up. How’s your tea? I added some ice, I hope that’s ok.”

Cullen took a sip from his mug and closed his eyes in pleasure as the cooling sensation of mint washed down his throat. It wasn’t enough to undo the stress caused by the day’s events but it felt nice nonetheless.

“Maker’s breath, it’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Farrada’s mouth quirked up into a smile before she concealed it behind her own mug. “Glad you like it.” she took a sip of her own tea and Cullen saw her relax visibly.

“I wish I could offer you a better explanation for… anything, really. But it’s fucking late and honestly I had a few shots of whisky before you came in. Someone gave it to me as a housewarming gift. Maybe tomorrow I can be more helpful.”

“Farrada, you opened your home to me. It isn’t your fault that you don’t know how I got here - I don’t expect anything more from you.”

She waved him off. “You said your feet lead you here, right?” He nodded. “Then I choose to believe you’re here for a reason. Tomorrow after work I’ll try to be of more use. For now, I’m sure you’ve noticed all the light bulbs keeping the place lit?”

“Light bulbs?”

She pointed to another half-dome attached to the ceiling, filling the room with light. “We don’t have magic here but we have electricity which may as well be magic to you. There’s a little switch on the wall in every room here that controls the lights. I think the one in your roo - the guest bedroom - is still on so you’re gonna wanna hit that before you go to sleep.” She took another sip and made a small noise, swallowing quickly. “Wait no - don’t hit it. I just mean flip it.”

Cullen chuckled and Farrada stuck her tongue out at him. The gesture reminded him of that elf Sera and he only laughed harder. “Flip the switch. Got it.”

She nodded softly and yawned into her tea mug. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Cullen, but it really is late. I need to get some fucking sleep. Are you going to be ok on your own?”

“I should be. Thank you again, Farrada.”

She nodded and uncurled before standing up and grabbing the second tea mug. Cullen watched as she shuffled into the kitchen and disappeared from his view. He turned his attention to the fire again, staring into the flames and thinking of home.

What will Cassandra do? And the Inquisitor? Without the Inquisition they need my help finding that damned Elf. At least the Templar refuge has some healers who can actually help the worst of the Lyrium addicts without me… Shit! Who’s going to take care of Fireball?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Farrada gently patting him on top of his head and made a small noise of astonishment. Another smirk crept across her face as his was colored by a blush, embarrassed at letting his guard down.

“If you need me, you know where I’ll be. Although I really don’t recommend waking me up - I’m not afraid to bite. When you finish your tea you can just leave the mug on the table there. Oh, and I’d appreciate it if you turned the fire off before you go to bed. Good night, Rutherford.”

He watched as she walked down the hall and disappeared into her room, feet dragging on the floor as a testament to her exhaustion. Cullen drowned the rest of his tea and set his mug on the table as she had requested. He stared into the fire for a moment, head still reeling from the events of the day, before turning the dial to kill the flames and following Farrada’s example.

With his legs freed from those odd, blue trousers and soft fleece wrapped around his body, Cullen was asleep moments after his head touched the pillow.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will have answers for… whatever this is.