david | he/it/she | 22 | writer inconvenienced by uni
here i mostly share my fanfic writing (& words & art that inspire said fanfic writing), but i do also write poetry and original fiction when i can. right now i am really into dragon age. generally, my output deals with kink, trauma and messy relationships.
i am firmly pro-fiction. some of my fic deals with uncomfortable, repulsive themes and some of this output even eroticizes said things that would be terrible in real life. i tag carefully both here and on ao3. there be dead doves.
A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.
A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.
An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.
Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.
Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift.
French kisses where they trace every tooth with their tongues as though trying to memorize them.
Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.
A kiss that lasts so long, they are sharing each other’s breaths.
A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.
Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.
Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.
Butterfly kisses against the other’s cheeks.
A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.
A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.
One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.
Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin.
Teasing kisses where one person blows air into the other’s mouth and runs away.
One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.
Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.
A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in mixed company.
A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.
A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.
Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer.
Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain.
Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear.
Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.
One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.
Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.
Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.
Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.
A kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards.
An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.
Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.
An awkward kiss given after a first date.
Starting with bunny kisses before moving on to soft kisses.
Cleaning the other person’s lips with a lick and a kiss.
Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss.
Kissing tears from the other’s face.
A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them.
Kisses shared under an umbrella.
Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.
A kiss pressed to the top of the head.
Tentative kisses given in the dark.
Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.
A lingering kiss before a long trip apart.
A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged.
One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s.
Short and sweet kiss after meeting up for a date.
A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.
happy dadwc! a chant of light prompt seems appropriate for Clara Trevelyan, so: In blackest envy were the demons born.
Thank you for the prompt! Meandering Clara character study here.
For @dadrunkwriting | divider credit
Clara reflects on envy and being a Templar.
T | 529 words | CWs: anti-mage sentiment, gender issues, family issues
Clara, sometimes, wishes she was not the eldest daughter. So much of her life had been settled around this, from declaring she wanted to be a Templar at a young age so she wouldn't be married off later to working with Eirian to make sure his life-destrying secret magic wouldn't go out. She thinks of her little sister, the youngest of four, and a pit grows in her stomach with how badly she wishes she could just be like she is. To not have any obligations beyond not bringing any shame to the family. But she'd been piled with them, and had to shake some off and take some new ones along the way. Always ready to take care of her siblings, even if she was not nurturing. She had done as much of a good job as she could, and then had ran to train as a Templar.
Not that she resents her work as a Templar. She has learned to take it in stride in these years of duty, from doses of lyrium to reciting the Chant to an apostate's neck crushed against her boot. Changing from working at the Circle to working in apostate hunting just made it all so much better, even if every time she looks at a scared apostate's face she can't help but think of her brother, for a spare moment, before she pushes the memory of his sweet face aside. His excitable showing of the sparks on his fingertips before their parents explained to him just in what grave danger he was, what a grave danger he was.
At least he'd submitted to the will of the Chantry, of the Maker, when he'd been caught. It was unfair, that a good man like him had been cursed like this. But that was how life was. Their letters had grown more sparse with the passage of years, with Eirian reproaching her involvement in the Order, with the subjugation of mages, the poor fool getting radicalized by whatever bitter mages were in the Ostwick Circle. Like she wasn't part of the very same people who kept him safe from himself!
Even then, the Templars are unused to seeing a woman in their ranks. She smiles and rebuffs their harassment, raises her sword up in silent threat. Most of them cannot compete with her when it comes to wielding it. Maybe she can be someone worth envying, someone better than these men, even if they look how she should, powerful and masculine and cruel. Even after years, she still looks like a noblewoman with the subtlest of muscle. It pisses her off.
Envy has always shaped her life. She could always be someone else. At least now she can excel at what cards she's been given. When she sees Eirian in the Conclave, her back straight, ready to wait for the Divine to call for an Exalted March on these ruffians, she only nods at him. He is lucky she is not on duty here, and cannot use her power over him. Not yet, at least. Not until the Divine makes a choice over what must be done—and takes the only correct one.
Bitter is sorrow / Ate raw and often, poison that weakens and does not kill.
Heav'n filled with silence, then did I know all / And cross'd my heart with unbearable shame.
Let the blade pass through the flesh, let my blood touch the ground, / Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice.
Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you. / In my arms lies Eternity.
That like the leaves after a long winter, peace too might return to the land.
That peace bore a heavy price which must be paid in blood.
At last, the Light shall shine upon all of creation, / If we are only strong enough to carry it.
Hope abandoned the armies of the faithful / At the sight of their Lady in chains.
From among them voices raised / In threnody for Andraste wreathed in flame.
The heavens wept, and yet no rain could extinguish the flame / Which was now a funeral pyre.
Blessed are they who stand before / The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.
Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. / In their blood the Maker's will is written.
The first of the Maker's children watched across the Veil / And grew jealous of the life they could not feel, could not touch.
In blackest envy were the demons born.
And those who slept, the ancient ones, awoke, / For their dreams had been devoured / By a demon that prowled the Fade / As a wolf hunts a herd of deer.
A dog might slink back to the hand it has bitten / And be forgiven, but a slave never.
Let us not fall into the jaws of the wolf together.
No mortal foot could tread those halls, / No hand knocked upon the gate.
No small sacrifice would open the gate.
Yet none could bear that rivals might walk in the Light / Of their gods, when they did not.
Ninety-nine knives gleamed in the firelight / As the sacrifices began.
The legions of dead slaves rose / To the zenith of the black sky.
By blood and lyrium were they drawn / Inexorably to the Unreachable City, / The heart of all creation.
At a touch, the gate swung wide, / And the Light parted before them like a curtain.
Then the Maker heard the distant cries / Of the sacrificed. A chorus of voices beyond counting / Calling out for justice.
Dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts, / On blacken'd wings does deceit take flight, / The first of My children, lost to night.
And the Maker in sorrow turned His gaze / And no longer hoped for His children to return.
Their pride refused all measure of blame.
Magic could not undo / What evil had done.
They looked on what pride had wrought, / And despaired.
You have brought Sin to Heaven / And doom upon all the world.
With passion'd breath does the darkness creep. / It is the whisper in the night, the lie upon your sleep.
As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, / She should see fire and go towards Light.
For You are the fire at the heart of the world, / And comfort is only Yours to give.
And though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing / Can break me except Your absence.
In the pounding of my heart / I hear the glory of creation.
We are alike in sorrow, sculptor and clay, / Comforting each other in our art.
I cannot see the path. / Perhaps there is only abyss. / Trembling, I step forward, / In darkness enveloped.
Now her hand is raised / A sword to pierce the sun / With iron shield she defends the faithful / Let chaos be undone
And the stars stood still, the winds did quiet, and all animals of earth and air held their breath.
And the Maker wept for his Beloved, and turned once again from all creation.
Though I walk through the mists on the edge of the void, I shall not fear, for you are with me.
The righteous stand before the darkness and the Maker shall guide their hand.
In August we will get back to the last Dragon Age hero, that as not their fully own event (shoutout once more to @rookappreciationweek!) And this last hero is of course our Inquisitor from Dragon Age Inquisition.
Just like with the Warden, Warden Commander, and Hawke, we will celebrate the Inquisitors of Thedas. Like always, this is an event for fanwork featuring your Inquisitor. That means this is a call for fanart, fanfiction, aethetics, stimboards, gifs... Whatever you want!
We have Rules of course, but I feel most of you already know the rules for this: no stealing, no AI, works posted will have to be new. And so on.
Thank you all for the wonderful prompts you submitted! From those, we put together a prompt list that we're really excited about, and hope you will be too!
Emmrich Week 2026 will take place from Monday, September 7th -> Sunday, September 13th!
The hashtag will be #DATVEmmrich2026.
Check out the Rules & FAQ on our blog! If you have any questions, feel free to send us an ask! We're so excited for Emmrich Week, and can't wait to see what you create!
Alistair: Doesn't he seem to be a bit too much? The hair, the clothing…
How does the Warden interact with Zevran's mask?
9/2/26 ▸ Day 2: Humor
Leliana: Have I ever talked about my friend, Zevran? He was an Antivan Crow. He wasn’t always good at it. We only met because he failed to kill a mark. But he made me laugh.
How does Zevran entertain the Warden?
9/3/26 ▸ Day 3: Rumors
Harding: So the Crows don't work in Ferelden anymore because of Loghain? Why, exactly?
Lucanis: House Arainai embarrassed themselves so badly on that job, the Crows buried six different Eighth Talons.
How do Zevran and the Warden look from an outside perspective?
9/4/26 ▸ Day 4: Influence
Wynne: His demeanor changes when he's with you. There is a tenderness to his gaze I'd never seen till now.
How do Zevran and the Warden change each other?
9/5/26 ▸ Day 5: Support
How could anyone have guessed that the Grey Warden would become his lover and support his crusade?
— From a half-burned letter in a Treviso warehouse, 9:35 Dragon
How/how much does the Warden support Zevran's fight against the Crows?
9/6/26 ▸ Day 6: Our Own Battles
Regardless, Zevran and I have our own battles to fight, and I can only offer my confidence that you have matters well in hand.
— The Hero of Ferelden
What are Zevran and the Warden doing now?
9/7/26 ▸ Day 7: Free Day
What is it? ZevWarden week is a prompted week event to celebrate Zevran Arainai and his beloved Warden(s). We will be sharing newly created fan works during the event! Please keep in mind this event is 18+!
When is it? In 2026 ZevWarden week will be in September 1 - 7th!
How to participate: You can follow the daily prompts for inspiration or post new ZevWarden content! We will be reblogging all kinds of fan works: fics, art, edits, gifs, meta - anything goes! Please remember to properly tag your post, including nsfw, content warnings, and trigger warnings. Tag your content with #zevwardenweek26 or tag @zevraholics on your post and we will reblog it!
If you're not sure what to tag, here's a link to what we tag for!
Summary: Vivienne tries to find a way to keep Sera well-behaved. Ergo, she spanks her until she sobs.
Relationships: Sera/Vivienne
Tags of note: past child abuse, ageplay overtones, unnegotiated kink, spanking, consent issues, everyone has a good time, dom!Vivienne, sub!Sera
For @eatyourdesserts & @sera-sundays.
Sera gasped out as Vivienne yanked her onto a storage room in Skyhold and pushed her against a desk, the force of her shove sending her nearly sprawling right on top of it. She was bent at an awkward angle, and when Vivienne grabbed her hips to push her into a better position she was only connected to the floor by her tiptoes.
She groaned out. "What are you doin'?"
Vivienne, rather than responding, pulled down Sera's trousers, exposing her bottom and her bare cunt, wispy blonde hairs around it.
"I am teaching you manners," Vivienne said after a moment, her warm hand rubbing over her buttocks. It sent a thrill down Sera's spine, and she whined softly, trying to hide her face on the cold hard wood. She was mortified, yes, but more than anything she just felt like this was like the dirty fantasies she had often. "All of Skyhold is sick of your pranks, little girl. If you cannot behave better than a child, then you shall be treated like one."
Shite, she was serious. Terror and arousal mixed low into her stomach, eyes widening as her hands found the edges of the table. At least she wasn't using magic—Vivienne was fucking scary, alright, from her harsh noblewoman demeanor to her powerful magic she'd had the (mis)fortune of seeing in the battlefield when Quizzy dragged them both to the same trip.
"You wanna touch my arse, Madame de Fer?" she mocked, voice dripping with sarcasm around the title, "I didn't know you got it up for poor city folks like m—OUH!"
Summary: Val Mercar goes to a hightown lounge pretending to be a docile elven courtesan with one goal in mind: to kill a particular slaver.
Relationship: Val "Rook" Mercar/Original Male Character
Tags of note: implied childhood sexual abuse, past slavery, past sex work, murder, blood and violence, crossdressing
For @shadow-dragon-week day 5 with the prompt "hightown". I wrote this several months back and had nearly forgotten about it.
It had been a good few years since the last time Val was a whore, but he knew how to play the part. He put on a dress that fell past his ankles, black as night, boots with the tiniest bit of heel and a jacket for the early morning chill. The clothes were the most important part of the costume he was wearing—sure, he'd have to be more personable, sweet and mysterious, but he could fake that; anyone can, really. He borrowed a bra from Lorelei that made his chest appear just big enough for him to have cleavage, and settled a gold necklace over his throat to give the men ogling him an excuse. He finished the outfit with little bits and bobs of jewelry, the truest part of it all—rings and bracelets and earrings, all gold, all shiny. A dagger was tucked inside his boot, ready to be pulled out by the handle and used against his target.
He was not going to this magister salon just to get information or watch them, get their names, their sights embedded into his mind. No, he went with a very specific mission in mind. Lorelei had admitted to him what kinds of things she'd been subject to under the man he was searching for, for those few unlucky years where she was a slave, and, well. Val was lucky enough to have never been touched by his master, but he knew what it was like to have unwanted hands on you. He was not letting that slide, even if he was not the biggest political threat to the Shadow Dragons, even if he was not their typical target.
It did not matter. Men like him deserved to die, so Val was going to kill him.
Summary: Davrin asks Ime how he got into the Wardens, and they find great differences in their perspectives.
Relationship: Davrin & Ime "Rook" Thorne
Tags of note: Former slave Rook, Qunari-Tevinter War, worldbuilding, codex entries
For @rookappreciationweek day 3 with the prompt "chains" and @genworkjune. Ime is the second Rook I came up with, and this was my first time writing him—it was fun to figure him out!
Davrin hummed in consideration as they sat across from one another in his spot in the Lighthouse, Assan scratching behind his ear as he flit from one place to the other with his back paws.
"How'd you join the Wardens?" he asked. "I don't think I ever asked."
Ime managed a smile. "We do try not to ask in Weisshaupt."
"Well, it's not like we're there anymore," Davrin replied. "You can keep it to yourself if you'd like. Just curious."
"No, it's…fine."
Ime was a big man, bigger than Davrin by an order of magnitude, though not all that much taller. Perhaps five inches, when many Qunari would tower a foot over him. His width and breadth were his main source of power, and how he best carried around his heavy greatswords. And perhaps why he'd been called for by the Wardens in the first place.
Summary: After Therinfal Redoubt, Vivienne beckons Lyra Adaar for a chat about the Templars and the options mages have.
Relationship: Lyra Adaar & Vivienne
Tags of note: Post-Champions of the Just, mage politics, complicated opinions, Adaar backstory, Tal-Vashoth Adaar
For @genworkjune. I got this idea after playing through COTJ with Lyra and how, of course, the dialogue didn't reflect her particularities. Also, I love Vivienne a lot.
Lyra knows many don't agree with her choice to keep the Templars as free allies. She couldn't bear the thought of destroying the Order, not when mages needed keepers, not when they all were moments away from being posessed and dangerous. It's better than having arvaraad there, for sure, or being bound and kept in place.
Vivienne flags her down to talk, after she returns to Haven, victorious and with a good few dozen Templars following Cullen's lead towards the mountains. Lyra finds herself a bit intimidated by her, her poise, the mask affixed to her face. Lyra has always worn her heart on her sleeve, unable to hide her anxieties and her need to be gentler than what the world asks of her. Vivienne is sharp-tongued and witty, a self-assured smile on her lips she almost wants to emulate.
"It is good that you salvaged as many templars as you did, my dear," Vivienne starts when she steps closer to her. "We will need every templar, but they will require proper management. We also need to increase our lyrium supplies considerably. The Chantry may still have stockpiles we can use."
Welcome to the 2026 Whumperless Whump Event, where we celebrate all kinds of situational, accidental and environmental whump! If this is your first time, welcome in--if you've been here before, thanks for coming back!
FAQ and text version under the cut!
Frequently Asked Questions:
Q: Where can I find the prompts list?
A: @whumperless-whump-event on Tumblr.
Q: How are the prompts divided?
A: Each day has a "title" or a vague theme, followed by two tropes and one dialogue prompt.
Q: Can I use the title as a prompt?
A: Absolutely.
Q: Do I have to use all of the prompts?
A: Not at all.
Q: Can I use all the prompts?
A: Absolutely.
Q: If I'm writing a chronological story, can I swap days to fit the timeline?
A: Yes, just make sure you tag your days and prompts appropriately. If you're writing for day 6, but you post it on day 12, tag day 6, not day 12.
Q: Can I have early or late entries?
A: Yes. This is a very laid back event, and meant mainly to inspire lots of whumperless whump. It's not a strict writing challenge.
Q: Is there an Ao3 collection?
A: Yes! This year's collection is linked here. The parent collection also includes 2024 and 2025--make sure you select 2026.
Q: Can I write [insert anything here]?
A: Yes. However, this blog will not reblog certain topics (ex. nsfw or suicide), so please tag your works appropriately, so anyone can filter out anything they don't want to see.
Q: Can I use AI?
A: No.
Q: Can a whumper be included in the prompt fill?
A: The short answer is no. The long answer is that you cannot have the role of whumper in your prompt fill (aka: no whumper-on-whumpee); however, if the character you want to be a whumpee or a caretaker happens to be a whumper, then as long as they are not fulfilling the role of whumper, it's fine. Also, if there is a whumper, it must be totally impersonal and faceless. Here are some examples for clarification:
A character's drink is spiked at a party.
OKAY: The whumper who spiked the drink is never mentioned and is completely faceless, and the story is directly about whumpee recovering.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper who spiked the drink kidnaps the whumpee.
A character is left alone in a storm.
OKAY: The character is stranded or lost.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: Whumper tied them to a post and left them in the storm.
A character is mugged on the street.
OKAY: The whumper is a stranger, faceless, and the focus is on Whumpee.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper is a stalker and there to kidnap Whumpee.
All in all, if your goal is to fulfill the event, then try to avoid a whumper. If you're using the prompts elsewhere, then ignore this, but in the spirit of the event, no whumper roles please.
Q: How do I tag my posts?
A: Tag with #whumperless whump event, #wwevent 2026 and #wwevent day [x](Don't just tag wwe, that's wresting.) Make sure to tag the fill type (art, fic, music, etc) with #fic, #art, #et cetera. Then, tag triggers and content warnings. Please put these first in the tag order! It just makes it easier to reblog.
Q: How do I get reblogged?
A: Mention this blog in your post! It's the easiest way for me to find you. Otherwise, I won't reblog it. (This also means if you do not want your post reblogged to the event, just don't mention the blog, and it'll stay private.)
Q: I disagree with something/have an issue with a prompt/want to address a problem. How should I do it?
A: Send me an ask and we can fix it. I am more than willing to work through any problems--I am human, and not without fault.
I think that's about it. That's a lot, so if you've got any other questions that aren't on the list, feel free to shoot me an ask. I'm happy to help!
Plain Text:
Like a Baby Seal to Water: Fishtailing / Near drowning / "I thought I was going to die."
Somebody's Gotta Do It: Unexpected caretaker / Touch starvation / "You don't have to hide from me."
A Lull in the Chaos: Bedside vigil / Checking vitals / "Can you… sing? Until I fall asleep?"
How Are You So Oblivious: Unknowingly feverish / Falling asleep at work / "Can you drink some water for me?"
Wilderness Experts: Poisoned / Caught in a trap / "I don't know where we are."
Down The Wrong Pipe: Choking / Seizures / "Call an ambulance, tell 'em they're not breathing."
Wrong Place, Wrong Time: Panic attack / Overstimulated / "Get me out of here."
Are You Sure This Is Normal: Natural disasters / Scared of thunder / "We're safe in here, okay? I think."
Dropping Like Flies: Multiple whumpees / Caretaking while sick or injured / "I'll get some rest soon, I promise."
A Warm Welcome: Coming home from the hospital / Cuddle piles / "You scared me so badly…"
Bodily Betrayal: Stomach sick / Carried to bed / "…Yeah. I can call in sick for you."
You Make Me Lose My Breath: Wheezing / Altitude sickness / "You're not making sense."
Waking In A Cold Sweat: Midnight hospital visit / Allergic reaction / "I thought you were getting better."
The Final Straw: Grief / Mental breakdown / "You don't need to be okay right now."
Summary: While doing a Necropolis ritual with Emmrich, Val Mercar considers his own relationship with death, and tells Emmrich something he has never told anyone before.
Relationship: Val "Rook" Mercar/Emmrich Volkarin
Tags of note: implied childhood sexual abuse, passive suicidality, suicidal thoughts, past slavery, pre-relationship
For @rookappreciationweek day 1, with the prompt "survival". Val is my first and main Rook, a Shadow Dragon and former slave, genderqueer trans man, and a guy with a lot of problems and issues.
"Have you ever been frightened by the thought of dying, Val?" Emmrich asks, looking down at him, and Val freezes.
This is not a conversation he pictured having, though maybe he should've expected it from trying to court a necromancer. Death whispers around him—perhaps he reminds him of home, in a way, of the childhood desire that lingered low in his belly when the men were done with him. It was easier to find hope, after, to push that craving to the back of his mind. But fearing it, the end of it all, sweet release from those chains that held him for so long?
"No," he says. Maybe he could stand to tell Emmrich more, but really, what would that accomplish, beyond having this man he wants all to himself see him as just a kicked dog, someone hurt and harmed by the world he was born into?
Emmrich tilts his head and sighs. "I wish I had your fearlessness, now or when I was younger," he says. Val doesn't think he would, but Emmrich continues, "that’s when I discovered I possess a great terror of dying. It goes beyond dread. It can’t be reasoned with or soothed over. It comes without warning, in the dead of night, in sunlit streets. A raw, strangling fear, struck somewhere deep past the heart."
Val can't imagine it, really, to fear it rather than crave it. Of not being struck by the desire to end it all but by the hope it never does.
