#tilda cadash

[exalted-dawn]

A bunch of little sketches and doodles of OCs over in DAFF :3

@dreadfutures @oxygenforthewicked @inquisimer @nirikeehan @rosella-writes @monocytogenes @kiastirling

[inquisimer]

the great acts of love

April marked the 4th annual Great OC Swap in the Dragon Age Fanfiction discord server and this year I had the privilege of writing a gift for @rosella-writes! It was so much fun to delve into their OC lore - I hope you love this slice of Tilda and Solas, friend💜

✨read it here on ao3 ✨

Female Cadash/Solas | G | 3243 words | No Warnings Apply

Solas intends the frescoes as a gift for Tilda Cadash, until he realizes: she cannot see them.

Addt'l Tags: Fluff, Developing Relationship, Acts of Service, Blind Character, During Canon, The Stone, Dwarf History & Lore

And check out the entire collection of gift fics on ao3 here! Everyone wrote such amazing pieces, it was a joy to see all of the OC love and excitement <3

DAFF Tag List: @warpedlegacy @rakshadow @effelants @bluewren @breninarthur

@ar-lath-ma-cully @dreadfutures @theluckywizard @nirikeehan @oxygenforthewicked

@exalted-dawn-drabbles @melisusthewee @blarrghe @agentkatie @delicatefade

@leggywillow @about2dance @plisuu

[rosella-writes]

Hello! What about "12. being intimidated by the strength of their own feelings" from love epiphanies for Bull and your Cadash? Happy writing ^.^

Thank you!! Here's some kinda angsty stuff with a Tal Vashoth Iron Bull who's trying to find his identity outside the Qun and what he means to the Inquisitor, if anything. For @dadrunkwriting

Rating: M for recollection of sexytimes Words: 524

~~~

Iron Bull clicks his tongue, clec clok. 

Thank you, see you next week. 

His hand slips on the hilt he’s rewrapping — he’s lucky he’s not holding a knife. He doesn’t need another fingertip gone. He glances up, around, his one eye lazy and casual as he’s trained it to be. Never turn too quickly, never draw attention with movement, never let on he’s nervous to be seen. 

Tilda Cadash rewraps her own bow handle across the fire from him, her tongue working between her teeth. Her blind, pink eyes dart back and forth, but she feels along the ridges of the leather thong she’s wrapped with sensitive fingertips. The firelight casts flickering colours across her colourless skin and hair — she’s blush red, sunset orange, a perfect canvas for more permanent mottled marks if he likes. 

She’s let him give them. Asked for them, begged for them, squirming under his hands as he holds her down. Mark me. Make me yours.

But it’s different there, in the confines of her room. Out here, she’s the boss — bas — the one who calls the shots and makes a difference. The one who says if they go on or stop. Just as she has ownership of their secrets with katoh, she owns whatever unfriendship lies between them. 

There’s a kind of surrender in giving to her. It’s an unspoken contract, an understanding that there’s this, then everything else. He’s trusted with clearing the Inquisitor’s mind, trusted to let her forget for a little while, and that kind of trust is what keeps Iron Bull breathing. It’s a role, a task. It’s something he’s called to, like a Tamassran or Arishok or Ben Hassrath. Does the child love the Tamassran back for feeding it and teaching it? Do the people love the Arishok for protecting them? Do the reeducated thank the Ben Hassrath for their intervention? Or is it simply a matter of course?

Tilda wants what the Iron Bull can give her, and that’s alright. It has to be alright. 

Leather creaks between his fingers as he pulls it tight. A flicker of memory is a pale light behind his blinks — the hilt isn’t a hilt, but Tilda’s leg, her arm, her flesh pressed between loops of rope. When he unwound it then, the rope left white, bloodless lines before they flushed hot and chafed and red. He blinks again there’s the memory, newer and fresher, of Tilda’s muzzled mouth, her hair wound into a snarled knot in his massive fist, her body curled around his forearm and the three fingers he’s buried to the last knuckle inside her. He remembers how he let her hand rest on his thigh, just in case she needed to tap out a silent katoh against his skin. He remembers with a gut-deep ache how he wished that she could touch him like this outside this room, where nothing was supposed to change.

The Iron Bull looks up again at the Inquisitor across the fire. Her Anchor flashes green in her palm. He remembers who he is. He remembers why he’s here. And the role is enough — it has to be enough.

[kintheartist]

Tilda Cadash for @rosella-writes

I was so fascinated by her connection to the Stone, I wanted to draw her underground using it to help her navigate with her blindness. Wonder what it would be like to return in The Descent after so long aboveground with the Inquisition?

[kanawolf]

Below the read more is a very long list of character’s I remembered off the top of my head from fandoms who I’m totally down to do aesthetics:tm: for; this includes characters by themselves, in a ship pairing, with their family, in a brotp, etc. I’m probably missing some since I’m making this at 4 am so feel free to request a character that isnt on the list :)

Bloodborne:

Eileen the Crow

Bloody Crow of Cainhurst

Father Gascoigne

Alfred the Vileblood Hunter

Yurie the Last Scholar

Ludwig the Holy Sword

Laurence the First Vicar

Vicar Amelia

Adelaine the Blood Saint

Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower

Gehrman the First Hunter

Annalise Queen of the Vilebloods

Martyr Logarius

Adella the Nun of the Healing Church

Arianna the Woman of the Night

Iosefka

Gilbert

Provost Wilhelm

The Plain Doll

Retired Hunter Djura

Old Hunter Henryk

Valtr

Daughters of Gascoigne

Viola

Micolash Host of the Nightmare

The Good Hunter

Dark Souls Series

Quelana of Izalith

Reah of Thorolund

Anastacia of Astora

Solaire of Astora

Oscar of Astora

Knight Lautrec of Carim

Laurentis of the Great Swamp

Quelaan

Siegmeyer of Catarina

Darkmoon Knightess

Princess Gwynevere

Dark Sun Gwyndolin

Crossbreed Priscilla

Sieglinde of Catarina

Lord’s Blade Ciaran

Hawkeye Gough

Dragonslayer Ornstein

Abyss Walker Artorias + Sif

Chaos Witch Quelaag

Witch of Izalith

Gwyn Lord of Sunlight

Nito Lord of the Dead

Seath the Scaleless

Aldrich Devourer of Gods

Slave Knight Gael

The Painter

Filianore

Yhorm the Giant

Yuria of Londor

Anri of Astora

Chosen Undead

Ashen One

Aldia Scholar of the First Sin

Alsanna Silent Oracle

Lothric the Younger Prince

Lorian the Older Prince

Yorshka the Company Captain

Orbeck of Vinhelm

Lucatiel of Mirrah

Nadalia Bride of Ash

Emerald Herald

Nashandra

Vendrick

Mytha the Baneful Queen

Sir Alonne

Manscorpion Tark

Scorpioness Najka

Manus Father of the Abyss

Elana the Squalid Queen

Velstadt the Royal Aegis

Rosaria Mother of Rebirth

Emma the High Priestess of Lothric Castle

Hawkwood

Greirat of the Undead Settlement

Leonhard

Shira Knight of Filianore

Sir Vilhelm

Sirris of the Sunless Realms

Fire Keeper

Horace the Hushed

Velka Goddess of Sin

Yoel of Londor

The Nameless King

Sister Friede

Pontiff Sulyvahn

Dancer of the Boreal Valley (+Vordt maybe?)

Champion Gundyr

Oceiros the Consumed King

Father Ariandel

Soul of Cinder (?)

Lords of Cinder (as a group)

Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

Wolf/Sekiro

Lord Kuro

Emma the Gentle Blade

Owl (Wolf’s dad)

Tengu of Ashina

Lady Butterfly

Gyoubu Masataka Oniwa

Genichiro Ashina

Divine Dragon

Corrupted Monk

Ranger’s Apprentice:

Halt

Will

Gilan

Alyss

Jenny

George

Horace

Evaline

Pauline

Crowley

Tolkien:

Eru Iluvatar

Manwe

Melkor

Varda

Ilmare

Arien

Tilion

Olorin

Eonwe

Orome

Huan

Alatar

Pallando

Nessa

Tulkas

Vana

Yavanna

Radagast

Aule

Saruman

Mairon

Namo

Vaire

Nienna

Irmo

Este

Ulmo

Unien

Osse

Salmar

Gothmog

Thuringwethil

Langon

Ungoliant

Finwe

Miriel

Indis

Feanor

Findis

Fingolfin

Irime

Finarfin

Mahtan

Nerdanel

Maedhros

Maglor

Celegorm

Caranthir

Curufin

Amrod

Amras

Celebrimbor

Anaire

Fingon

Turgon

Aredhel

Argon

Olwe

Earwen

Finrod

Angrod

Aegnor

Galadriel

Ingwe

Celeborn

Oropher

Elu Thingol/Elwe

Melian

Beleg

Mablung

Luthien

Beren

Dior

Nimloth

Elwing

Elured

Elurin

Earendil

Elros

Elrond

Celebrian

Arwen

Elladan

Elrohir

Erestor

Glorfindel

Ecthelion

Maeglin

Idril

Eol

Haleth (+Haldar and Haladad)

Hurin

Morwen

Turin Turambar

Lalaith

Nienor

Bilbo Baggins

Frodo Baggins

Samwise Gamgee

Meriadoc Brandybuck

Peregrin Took

Rosie Cotton

Aragorn

Legolas

Gimli

Boromir

Faramir

Eowyn

Eomer

Haldir

Tom Bombadil

Goldberry

Thranduil

Tauriel

Bard

Tilda

Bain

Sigrid

Thorin Oakenshield

Fili

Kili

Balin

Dwalin

Oin

Gloin

Bifur

Bofur

Bombur

Dori

Nori

Ori

Dain the Ironfoot

Dis

Frerin

Dragon Age: (?)

The Warden (Cousland, Amell, Surana, Tabris, Mahariel, Aeducan, Brosca)

Alistar

Morrigan

Leliana

The Grey Wardens (Group)

Zevran

Flemeth

Hawke (purple, blue, and red versions)

Varric

Isabela

Fenris

Carver

Bethany

Anders

Merrill

Aveline

Sebastian

The Inquisitor (Trevelyan, Lavellan, Cadash, Adaar)

Cassandra

Solas

Sera

Iron Bull

Krem

Cole

Blackwall

Cullen

Josephine

Leliana (for the difference in her character)

Dorian

Critical Role:

Vax’ildan

Vex’ahlia

Pike Trickfoot

Scanlan Shorthalt

Taryon Darrington

Grog Strongjaw

Keyleth of the Air Ashari

Percy de Rolo

Cassandra de Rolo

Allura Vysoren

Kima of Vord

Shaun Gilmore

Sylas Briarwood

Delilah Briarwood

Dr. Ripley

Kashaw

Zahra

Dr. Dranzel

Kaylie Shorthalt

The Raven Queen

Sarenrae

Pelor the Dawnfather

Ioun the Knowing Mistress

The Wildmother

The Traveler

The Archeart

The Stormlord

The Changebringer

Nott the Brave/Veth Brenatto

Yeza Brenatto

Luke Brenatto

Caleb Widogast

Beauregard

Mollymauk Tealeaf

Caduceus Clay

Fjord

Yasha

Jester Lavorre

Marion Lavorre

Bryce Feelid

Dairon

Sunbreaker Ulumon

Keg

Calianna

Kiri

Shakaste

Nila

Essik Theylas

The Bright Queen

Avantika

The Adventure Zone:

Anyone from here I’m only on the Murder Train arc but I’ll do basically anyone

Legend of Zelda:

Link

Zelda

Shiek

Impa

Revali

Urbosa

Daruk

Mipha

Sidon

Ganondorf

Midna

Agitha Bug Princess

Riju

Yunobo

Teba

[rosella-writes]

Happy Friday! For DADWC: "i’m sorry, you don’t enjoy being teased?" and/or "keep your eyes open" for Iron Bull/Cadash?

I don't even know my guy here's some smutte. For @dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Tilda Cadash x Iron Bull Words: 269 (nice) Rating: E!! Warnings: uh bondage with slight predicament, gagging

~~~

She kicked his eyepatch loose, so he tied her down.

Now Iron Bull has Tilda where he wants her — bound to the arm of her couch in her room, on her back, her ankles roped together with a handy little grip right between them, and her pretty pink pussy on display. She's teetering on the arm, barely held in place by ropes alone, and she keeps shifting and shimmying to try to keep from falling. Her jaw works around a gag, and a gorgeous bead of drool gathers in the corner of her mouth. He grabs hold of that rope handle at her ankles and bends her plump little legs towards her chest.

He leans over her, casting a shadow that looms over the bannister and down the stairs. Her blind, pink eyes dart back and forth, her white lashes fluttering, as if taking in his sheer presence — he knows all she can sense is how he blocks out the light.

"Keep those eyes open, kadan," he rumbles, taking himself in hand. He taps it against her cunt, rapping like he would at a closed door, and grins at how wet she sounds. "Wanna see you struggle to take me."

She's folded in half — her soft belly creases, indented by her own knees, and he paws at one of her breasts until he finds a nipple to pinch.

Tilda moans and pulls. Her arms tremble with how tightly she holds on to the ropes that hold them over her head. But she doesn't shut those eyes — they widen and tear up and she makes a guttural, desperate sound when he finally presses the head of his cock between her thighs.

"Good girl," Iron Bull says, struggling to keep his voice steady, then slides inside her, bit by bit.

[rosella-writes]

ROOOO must have Tilda x Iron Bull pls pls pls - for “God, you love it like this, don’t you?” from the smut prompts???? 👀👀👀👀👀

Whew okay here take this before I change my mind lol. For @dadrunkwriting

Rating: E (for smuts) Words: 911 (lol) Pairing: Tilda Cadash x Iron Bull Warnings: bondage, dom/sub, subspace, choking

Tilda is a slip of warmth between his hands — just a malleable bit of woman, highly suggestible and completely trusting. Iron Bull’s gotten her here with kisses that turned into bites, twists of her arms behind her back, a fist clenched in her hair, a hand around her throat. Only a flower-chain of knots holds her fast, but she doesn’t even need it anymore. The Inquisitor has let her title go, and all she does is feel. 

This is the part that makes Iron Bull drunk. He’s careful — always is, always conscious of his partner and their nonverbal signs and level of responsiveness — but he can’t deny that he takes more pleasure from this than anything else. How she needs him. How she moves only when he moves her. How he needs to only slide his thumb beneath her pale lip for her to open her mouth wide. 

Iron Bull clasps the entirety of her lower face in his hand. He chuckles to himself when she blearily laps at the cropped end of his amputated ring finger. He moves her head side to side, and the rest of her ragdolls as he supports some of her weight. If she were more aware, she might be embarrassed of the guttural, wet sounds she’s making — as it is, he shoves his fingers deeper into her mouth until she chokes, until his fingers draw away covered in threads of her saliva, coated in frothy bubbles from her throttled breath. He slaps her casteless-tattooed cheek, hard and without warning, and roughly grasps her face again. 

“Mine,” he growls, and spits in her mouth. 

She doesn’t even try to swallow — she just sticks out her tongue, which is stark red against the white of her colourless skin. Her watery-pale eyes, sightless and glazed, drift back and forth. She can’t see him, at least not his details. He knows she can see his size by how he blots out the sun. 

He hikes a knee up on the bed and groans at the discomfort. He tugs Tilda over the rest of the way by his handle on her forearms and ankles — with a few pushes, he has her where he wants her. She’s floppy and useless and empty, just a set of holes. He tells her that, grumbling it to her as if he’s confessing love. 

Tilda can’t even speak. She doesn’t try. 

He’s been hard for almost too long. It hurts when he grasps himself, like he’s bruised, but he can’t find the energy to regret how long he’s teased and tormented her. Just as he sinks her further into the space beyond awake, he’s edging himself with her need. 

“Open,” he grunts, and presses his cockhead to her lips. 

She relaxes her jaw as if she’s done this a thousand times. Maybe it was already relaxed, like so much of her — he grabs her hair anyway and makes a mess of it, winding his massive hand into the rough, half-braided white strands. He yanks her head with his handle on her, until she slips and gags herself on his dick. 

“You can take it,” he grumbles, Despite how good it feels for the hot slide of her mouth to swallow him deep, he doesn’t let on — she likes it when she feels like nothing, like she’s not even making him feel good. Like this is all she’s good for. “Open your throat, you little whore. You love it like this, don't you?”

Tilda’s gagging, choking — but she can still breathe, so he pushes. There’s a million little ways for him to tell if he needs to back off, but none of them give him pause now. And when he looks between her thighs, spread from how he’s got her ankles tied, he can see just how red and positively dripping her little cunt is. 

“Suck me off good and I’ll fuck you,” he promises her. “Now open.”

Tilda’s whimpering through her nose, unabashed and almost animalistic in this space beyond consciousness. The sound stops when he pushes into her opening throat. 

He can feel his dick beneath where his hand grips her neck. 

Iron Bull fucks her face, feeding her his cock bit by bit. She’s so small that he could span her with both his hands if he wanted — but he wants her to be able to speak in the morning. When he finally pulls out with a grunt, she draws in a sloppy, sobbing, gasping breath. He doesn’t give her one second before he’s turning her and yanking on the chain of knots like it’s a handle. She’s comically little between his own spread knees on the bed. 

Tilda just stares up at him, dazed and flushed and wet-lipped, and heaves a guttural groan when he pushes inside her. He presses a hand to her soft little stomach, grasps her waist in his hand, and fucks her into the bed. 

“Good,” is all he says, all he deigns say, even as his every cell screams for him to tell her how this really makes him feel — as if he could muster the words.

But he may as well have heaped the prettiest of praise on her, like Solas might have. Her face glows at the tiniest assurance, and her glazed eyes well up as she tries to focus them on him. He leans over her and, since she’s too small to reach her mouth, he kisses the top of her head. 

“Kadan,” he calls her, and that seems like enough.

[rosella-writes]

For the alternative love interest game: Tilda and Sera?

Thank you!!

MAn I thought about this one for a long while, cuz while Tilda isn't straight per se she is definitely one of the straightest OCs I write. She's also quite a bit older than Sera, which wouldn't be a problem for Sera I don't think but Tilda might think twice.

Tilda's my most "purple" OC though, which covers up a lot of her relationship and addiction issues. I think Sera would be a fun bit of enthusiastic earnestness in her life, and remind her that things can be done out of altruism and care for her fellow man. She's someone that Sera considers "scary," like Leliana, for some of her cutthroat choices. But Sera's warmth would bring Tilda's sense of fun and hidden kindness to the fore, and I can see Tilda shaving Sera's name into her pubes as a gift lol. They'd be silly, sappy romantics in the end with lots of flowers and a happy-wedding-Red-Jenny ending.

Their sexual compatibility could be a lil wonky to start, since Tilda is so used to being in control in her day to day and just needs to let it all go otherwise. I'm not sure that Sera could offer her that without some clear communication, which Tilda isn't very good at. But they'd get there in the end I think, after lots of miscommunication and hurt feelings. Her canon LI Bull cuts to the chase and can perceive what she hides really well, but Sera, while insightful, rightfully needs a bit more Words.

[rosella-writes]

ROOOOOOOOO ro ro ro ro happy friday ro Can we get aaaaaaaa Solas x Cadash "alternatively, touching anywhere but where the person desperately wants to be touched" pleaaaaaaase

It ends kinda suddenly but yeah!! Thank you! For @dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Iron Bull x Tilda Cadash x Solas Rating: E Warnings: smutty smutte, mild kink negotiation, roleplay?

~~~

“She likes to be teased,” Iron Bull tells him. 

Solas lays with Inquisitor Cadash in her bed, fully dressed against the softness of her pale skin. Iron Bull’s eye watches them, and the man himself sits on the sofa near the bed, his hands clasped between his knees. He looks entirely too pleased with himself, too invested — Solas knows exactly what he gets from this farce, this playacting, this directing game. He pretends not to understand and turns away, towards the woman on the bed. 

He draws his hand down Tilda’s arm, watching as the colourless hairs rise with her gooseflesh. Solas glances at her and finds her eyes, unfocused and shaking back and forth in their pale blindness, directed towards his face. He wonders what she sees — shapes? colours? — and leans down to nose into the space beneath her ear. 

“Are you alright?” he breathes.

She nods, almost irritably — the Iron Bull grunts with disapproval. “She hasn’t said her word, has she? But you can read her body too, you know. That consent is just as important as the verbal kind.”

Solas pretends once again not to know. His hand smooths down her side, over the swell of her hip. Her feet only reach to his knee. He could touch all of her without shifting in this bed. “How do you mean?”

“She’s leaning towards you. She puts her face up like that when she wants to be kissed. And — yeah, look, when your hand is on her hip like that she parts her legs, just a little.”

She is looking at him. Yearning towards him. He can feel it in how she turns her entire self towards him, and it has been an age since he has felt skin this soft, heard the quick breaths of someone waiting to be kissed, smelled the warm musk of rising arousal. He can see every one of her long, white, tangled eyelashes and the ridges of her raised, pink casteless brand. She leans towards him with trust and desire in equal measure, and he wonders at it — Tilda is his friend, as is Iron Bull, but something here is different than when he laid with friends in a time long removed from this one. 

He feels the warmth of Iron Bull at his back before he hears him. The giant moves nearly silently. “Can I show you, Solas? You’re tense — ease up a bit.” 

He nods. Iron Bull places a hand over his, and beneath his grasp, Solas touches Tilda — her thighs, her softly-padded ribs, the crease at her waist, the shell of her round ear, the underside of one small breast. Solas thinks, from someplace far away, that he could likely take her entire breast into his mouth. 

Solas does not need Iron Bull’s direction, but he is surprised to find that it is what he wants. As far as the Tal Vashoth is concerned, there is no difference. Solas wonders as their paired fingertips graze along the inside of Tilda’s thigh — and she is wet, so wet that when her flesh parts more wetness forms clear threads from thigh to thigh — if Iron Bull knew all along that he was merely being mischievous. 

Tilda squirms and finally allows herself a whimper, and all thoughts rush from Solas’s mind. Iron Bull chuckles darkly. 

“Will you beg for him, kadan?” he asks the woman on the bed. 

Her eyes dart back and forth between the two men who lean over her, their hands linked as they touch her. She swallows visibly, and her lips are dry from panting. “Solas —”

Tilda’s knee grazes his groin, and Solas jumps. He had not realised how hard he had become, simply from touching her. 

“Solas, touch me,” Tilda gasps. “Please.”

A chuckle comes, unbidden, to his lips. “I am.”

Iron Bull seems to like that — his own chuckle does not sound surprised in the least. 

“No — no —” Tilda whines. Her twisting body searches after his featherlight touches, made heavier only by Iron Bull’s grasp on the back of his knuckles. “On my — between — I want —”

“You’ve got her speechless,” Iron Bull rumbles. He sounds pleased. “That takes a bit. You should be proud.”

He is. Solas wonders, in a brief flash of clarity before that fog of desire descends once more, if Iron Bull praises Tilda so readily, or if he has determined that it is something Solas himself likes. 

“Perfect, Solas,” Bull murmurs, and removes his hand. Solas slides it between Tilda’s thighs into her waiting wetness — he’s eager to touch her, and to hear more of Bull’s words. “Good. Now —”

Tilda’s back bows, and Solas clutches her small, soft body against him with his free hand at her waist. He works two fingers through her slick. 

“Exactly. Keep pleasing her like that and I might even let you fuck her.”

Solas casts a sharp look over his shoulder. “Should she not be the one who permits such a thing?”

“What do you take me for?” Iron Bull does not seem angry — there is only metered impatience in the flash of his eye. “She’s the one who asked for you. She’ll ask if she wants your cock, Fadewalker. And as the one who knows what she needs —”

“Please,” Tilda begs, muffled against Solas’s chest. 

“I call the shots,” Iron Bull reminds him. 

Solas’s hackles slowly lower, and he curls his fingers until Tilda cries out a short, desperate hah! of suddenly satisfied desire.

[rosella-writes]

happy friday!! how about “ you can rely on me, you know. ” for a pairing of your choice? :o

Thank you!! I chose some Solas & Iron Bull for this. Shippy if you squint. For @dadrunkwriting

Rating: G

~~~

"You have the Inquisitor," Solas had said. "And you have me."

Iron Bull once considered him full of shit. People say that sympathetic crap all the time, all dripping with condescension and pity and whatever else they fool themselves into thinking is empathy. But Solas is a dick, and even if Bull knows he's keeping things to himself, he's also a terrible liar. There was no lie in that promise.

And Iron Bull does have the Inquisitor. He knows that much. Despite barely reaching his belt buckle in height, Tilda Cadash is a larger-than-life force to be reckoned with, and she takes Bull's crap as seriously as she does a rasher of smoked nug flank. She doesn't pick and pry and hover and wring her hands — she waits, and she listens, and she treats him as she always has.

Solas is comforting in a different way. Their bickering over beliefs has all but quit — instead, Solas has been asking him questions, like how his people put on shirts. Iron Bull asks him if he fucks Fade-ladies. Solas turns fifteen different shades of red, and Bull wonders if they're not Fade-ladies but Fade-gents.

But then they fight one of those Fade-ladies and Bull changes his tune.

This one's important to the Fadewalker — Tilda's dragged them to the ass end of a civil war's final whimper to find her. It. Whatever. And when they discover it's turned into a demon — because of course it (she?) has — Solas loses his mind. He shouts at these mages and curses in his slippery language, and Iron Bull can't remember if he's ever heard him so much as raise his voice.

The binding falls quickly — Tilda, despite her lack of affinity for magic, seems to know exactly where to hit the spires to break them — and the spiky piece of demony horror that Iron Bull has been keeping off the others slumps, then falls. Solas runs to its side, puts up a hand to ward Bull away, and drops to his knees beside it.

It sure looks like a woman now.

He's talking to it, wringing his hands and sounding on the verge of tears. Iron Bull wants to take him away from here, away from the burning scent of death and scorched magic marks in the dirt. But he needs this.

The demon asks Solas for something, and it's like a mask of grief drops over him. Years and years show on his face, carved deep into the lines around his mouth. Bull's suddenly certain this isn't the first time this has happened to him.

That's why Tilda brought them here. That's why they rushed. That's why Solas had shouted and paced and now seemed so... dead. It's worse when he puts out his hands, and when the demon dissolves — just like the ones they kill at rifts, no different at all — Solas's face is made of flint.

He wanted to save just one, and he'd failed.

Solas kills the mages, and it's cold and dark and without mercy. Iron Bull doesn't feel anything at all when they fall — under the Qun they'd never have gotten this far, but he doesn't say that. He's not Qunari anymore anyway.

He's not surprised that the Fadewalker goes off on his own. He's a private guy, and Bull finds himself wishing he'd done the same when the dreadnought had sunk instead of drinking himself silly and making himself forget in the sparring ring. In his absence, he gets Tilda back home — Cole, in his weird-kid wisdom, follows them instead of Solas.

Iron Bull wakes up in his own bed, a week later, with Tilda shaking his arm.

"He's back," she hisses. "I can't get much out of him. Talk to him?"

Iron Bull groans and presses his head back into the soft pillow. "Or I could do what you did for me after the alliance failed and just... not talk about it."

Tilda can't focus her pale eyes on him, but she still manages to direct her mostly-blind stare directly at his face. "Solas needs different things than you do. He needs to talk or he begins to get... weird. Weirder. You know."

Iron Bull does know. He gets up.

He finds Solas hunched over some drawings in his lap, his ass sat on that sofa he's got shoved against the wall in the rotunda. There's space, so Bull sits next to him. Solas doesn't look up.

"Those look good," Iron Bull grunts, gesturing at the sketches. Solas scrubs some charcoal onto one to finish forming that demon's nose. "Looks just like her."

"It," Solas corrects him with a sniff. "Its pronouns were it and its."

Bull thinks briefly of Krem, then shakes the notion away. Demons aren't like his flesh and blood boys. "Wanna tell me about... it?"

"Why?" he snaps. "You hate spirits. Your fear has blinded you to their personhood. Do not pretend for my sake."

Bull shrugged. "Fine. I won't. I don't get it. But I do... well. I care." He tips his head to one side, then the other, then pushes through his discomfort and says with a wince, "About you."

Solas's snort speaks to his disbelief. He still doesn't look at Bull, not even sideways — he just focuses on those papers in his lap.

"You have the Inquisitor," Bull said in a low voice.

Solas's hand stills. His fingers are smudged from the charcoal he holds.

"And you have me," Bull finishes.

[rosella-writes]

happy dadwc roooooo💜 I bring a combo of prompts (bc I couldn't choose hdsjk) for your beloved lil dwarf nugget and her horny man this week:

sex on a countertop/tabletop/sink because we couldn’t wait to get somewhere with cushions + “You know, I could always get you off right here, right now.”

happy writing >:]

HMMMMMMM THANK U here you go for @dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Tilda Cadash x Iron Bull Rating: M

~~~

“Tilda,” the Iron Bull grumbles. “You know, I could always get you off. Right here. Right now.”

She chuckles, and her laughter is paired with a flick of her odd, violet-pink eyes in his direction. They don’t focus — she can’t focus, never was able to as long as he’s known her — but he knows she can see his size, his nearness. She sets down her mug of ale on the table and raises a white eyebrow. 

“I know you could,” she says. “But should I let you?”

“It’s not about letting me, kadan.”

She glances towards the stairs, but he knows it’s just habit. She’s listening. 

The Chargers laugh downstairs. Sera has her door shut. Cole must be lurking near the rotunda tonight, because her eyes don’t even drift towards the shady attic space. He has half a mind to grab hold of her and drag her up the stairs anyway. His room is just across the battlements. 

But he said right here.

She nudges her mug to the side and hauls her body up on the table. Her little wriggles bring her close enough to grab. “Prove it.”

So he grabs her. 

Tilda’s body is soft, with plush hips and a little crease where her waist bends. She’s tiny in his hands, but she likes that — and he likes that, because she leans back and closes her eyes and lets him catch her and pull her against him, trusting him above the inexorable pull of gravity. He slides one hand into that white hair of hers and pulls. 

“You’re mine,” he tells her. “No Inquisition. No Herald’s Rest. No Maryden crooning downstairs. Just you, me, and this table.”

She doesn’t submit right away, but she’s almost there — just a little furrow of her brow that twists the scar above her casteless brand. He tugs her hair until her chin tips back. He doesn’t kiss the sharp curve of her jaw. 

“Kind of like the idea of them down there,” she says in a quiet voice. “Could walk up here at any point, you know?”

“They won’t. You, me, nothing else.”

The soft back-and-forth vibration of her eyes slows behind her closed lids. He slides his hand from her hair, down that soft body, and into her heat between her thighs — she ruts against his thumb with little more than a gasp. 

“Nothing else,” she says, and is gone.

[rosella-writes]

Environmental storytelling, feat. Tilda Cadash

[rosella-writes]

OCs as Siken Poems

Saw this one going around and liked it. 🥰 Tagging it forward to @breninarthur @rakshadow @plisuu @dreadfutures @cleverblackcat @mxkelsifer and anyone who likes poetry that I’ve missed.

Virelan Lavellan: Saying Your Names

your breath on my neck like a music that holds / my hands down, kisses as they burn their way / along my spine — or rain, our bodies wet, / clothes clinging arm to elbow, clothes clinging / nipple to groin — I’ll be right here. I’m waiting.

Tilda Cadash: Straw House Straw Dog

I don’t really blame you for being dead but you can't have your sweater back.

[rosella-writes]

For the OC ask: 👀😍 💐 for Vir and Tilda? :D

🥰thank you Gin!!

👀 : Does your OC believe they are attractive? Do they use that to their advantage?

It doesn't really occur to Tilda? Most people don't know what to make of her, due to her albino traits like paleness and shaky eyes, as well as her dry humour from dealing with people who act weird around her. She takes advantage of people's discomfort and curiosity for sure, but she doesn't think much in terms of attractiveness or not, especially since she's never gotten a good look at herself.

😍 : What does your OC find irresistible in others?

Virelan loves beautiful voices, beautiful hands, and delicate features. Points if the person is a sarcastic little shit with an odd earnestness threshold? Like if they tease about things that don't matter but the moment Virelan takes it too far they put their foot down and insist on defending what's important to them. She finds that hot. She also has a knack for figuring out which men whine.

Tilda loves big, strong people. She wants to be crushed. She's not into super lean people and prefers her partners to have a softer middle, but being a dwarf it's not hard for her partners to be bigger than her lol. Iron Bull is exactly her cuppa.

💐 : What is their courting style? How would they woo someone?

Virelan likes to woo her friends! She doesn't make a concerted effort to pursue someone sexually or romantically unless she knows them well. Her style is a lot of physical affection, if acceptable to her friend — touching their knee or shoulder while talking, hugging them, sitting near them, etc. She always is an engaging listener, but she'll encourage them to talk more. She'd also make them useful gifts based on things she knows they like or would make use of.

Tilda just comes right out and says it. Her relationships were always brief and for release/fun during her time in the Carta. She's 35 by Inquisition and had never considered settling down or having a family, and certainly had never considered doing that with Iron Bull when she first flirted with him. She was aggressive with it until he showed up in her room one day lol. It basically goes as it does in canon — she makes him the Necklace of Kadan when she realises she really can't do without him, and it's really the first affectionate, meaningful gift she'd ever given anyone.

[rosella-writes]

From the edgy/misc OC ask meme:

What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

for Vir and/or Tilda? <3

Thank you so much!!

For Vir: she's constantly thought to be more aggressive and angry than she really is, by virtue of her resting face being very frowny (and people being racist and sexist towards intimidated by strong female Dalish elves). They wouldn't know that she's soft-hearted, knows a staggering number of Dalish folktales, and is patient and kind to children.

For Tilda: She began as an excuse for me to play Cadash, and I wanted to see if I could make a dwarf with albinism. She went from a pretty straightforward "sarcastic/jokey archer dwarf" to a character whose attitude reflects a lot of Iron Bull's type of infiltration and doesn't believe in the Stone (despite having a keen Stonesense that she chalks up to good luck and an excellent sense of direction). I also decided that I didn't want to use her appearance for aesthetics alone, and gave her other complications of her lack of melanin — she experiences ocular albinism too, which causes some nystagmus (shaky eyes) and moderate blindness. She can only see shapes and colours when above ground, and can't bear the bright, direct sunlight.

Absolutely not, not with either of them lol. Virelan would not like me, and I'd not like Tilda.

I'll do this one for Vir: I love how her strengths are also her flaws. I feel like it makes her such a person. What helps her succeed as Inquisitor causes her problems in her interpersonal relationships, and vice versa.

[rosella-writes]

“Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?” For any of your ocs

OH FUN thank you 💚

Inri Hawke: No. She'd commit a murder, certainly, but she'd make the mistake of spilling her guts to Sebastian, who'd ask her to turn herself in to justice.

Virelan Lavellan: No. She'd not murder per se and if she did she'd be fairly open about having killed someone.

Rosalie Tabris: No. Canonically committed murder and got caught red-handed.

Tilda Cadash: Yes. She worked for the Carta. And there's a whole lotta places to hide bodies where she comes from.