for literary effect

30 ✨️faintly human✨️ Ao3 is the same username. Mature Audiences Only.

[awyeahitssam]

My Writing Masterlist

Since I post on here far more consistently then on ao3 for reasons, I figured I would compile a list of my writing for those who don't like sifting through fandoms they could care less about to get to the good stuff. 

Separated by fandom, and somewhat by trope. 

Harry Potter:

Harry eats a God. 

Harry just can't seem to stay dead. TW: Suicide, character death, frequent character death, torture, murder, disjointed snippets, discontinued + Harry dissociates. Connected, same warnings may apply. 

First Encounters: Time loop, Voldemort-as-Quirrell visits the Dursleys and is less than pleased. 

First Encounters: The first time Harry meets Voldemort, the man he's been trained to kill all his life, he's nineteen, and Voldemort recognizes him. 

Prisoner Harry tells Voldemort about the Dursleys like it's a bedtime story. 

Except for the incident, Harry really doesn't tend to talk a lot when he has a concussion. Stream of thought narrative, character injury.

Literally just Empath!Harry spoilers. Harry, at his trial, allowing himself be petty to an extent. 

Harry gets drunk, pulled into Voldemort's mind, and decides he wants to share his good mood.

Tea shop AU.  + more  Tea Shop (weather) AU. + something actually Tea-based under the cut

Four of a Kind AU: Learning to kiss split-scene. Harry/Harry, referenced Harry/Horcrux + They meet. They kiss. What if. Voldemort/Harry + In the aftermath Voldemort/Harry

Kid Fic: Harry ‘dies’ as a child. Mentor!Voldemort, absolutely not a pairing ficlet. 

Kid Fic: Harry and Voldemort’s kid lands in the past during a duel at the Ministry. Pre-Harrymort, Micah, not quite the kiss you'd expect.

Female Harry, world-jumping, rationally angry. Tom/Harry intended, if Harry will chill out on the murder. 

Female Harry, young, likes to write.

Harry likes to feel pretty. Horcrux/Harry, Harry wears makeup, etc. 

Harry lost the bet. Confident, petty Harry in lingerie.

Tom and Harry jump through time to each other. Tomarry, growing up, fluff, brief kissing, Harry’s older

Dragon AU, I have a lot more of this one written, I should dump that some day. Harry/Horcruxes

Harry/Tom: pillow forts, soft angst, unresolved, broken promises

Harry's really fucking sick and tired of being told what the fuck to do. 

Tom-after-Voldemort is the first person Harry has ever spoken to. Isolation, lighthearted, odd, old and forgotten. 

Harry never imagines the effect getting a boyfriend would have on Riddle. Jealous Tom. 

Harry messes with Diary!Tom

Harry and Voldemort have to complete a task based on the colour of the others' robes, for some reason?

Harry is kidnapped and wakes up in an incredibly comfortable bed. Voldemorts knows Harry is his horcrux.

Harry ruthlessly defends Hogwarts against encroaching Death Eaters. Sixth Year.

Dobby Lives AU!

It's one paragraph guys.

Brief character study of Voldemort.

Prompt-based: Tom possesses Harry when he's afraid. Hermione POV.

Prompt-based: Santa forgot about Harry, again.

Prompt-based: Tom watches Harry draw dirty, dirty things at church.

Teen Wolf, all at least peripherally intended as Stiles/Peter

Kid Fic + Genderbend + Time Travel: Stiles is in the past and nobody is raising Malia, so she sure as shit will.

Stiles has known about werewolves since he was nine, and now that he's off the college it seems his dad has gottten involved. No Hale Fire, Protective Stiles

The first thing Kate does when she comes back to Beacon Hills is kidnap Peter. Human!Alpha Stiles, eventual Steter, pre-slash

Stiles has the curse of obedience. Stiles/Peter

Flower shop AU! Ft. Petty Peter and insulting bouquets.

Peter says he hates Stiles. Stiles begs to differ. 

Werewolf Stiles wakes up in the middle of Beacon Hills woods naked, and tries to keep it low key from there. Bakery AU, kinda. Peter/Stiles

First Encounters: The Hale pack summons Stiles to the past. 

First Encounters: The first time Stiles meets Peter he is drunk. Stiles is a rude, very straight-forward drunk who steps all over issues like dead family and psychosis. It’s like he had a minefield map and is intentionally stepping on every trigger. 

Stiles meets Peter in the hospital.

Stiles pulls back because he doesn't want Peter to mess up his dress shirt, not because he doesn't want the bite. 

Stiles crochets magic shit. Fluff. 

Negotiations go well. 

Peter being the literal worst, holy hell, this hurts to read. Have some angst. Past-Stiles/Peter

Okay, my bad for that last one. Have some comfort. Crying, comfort, Stiles & Peter

Dragon Stiles is constantly underestimated. 

Stiles beats Peter, sore loser extraordinaire. 

Me acting like Stiles has shame for some reason.

Female Stiles gets forcibly genderbent and is not putting up with anybody's shit. Body dysmorphia, shitty friends, anger issues, sexism. Peter/Stiles

Female Stiles and Peter. Shower, soft.

Stiles writes smutty fanfic, as he should. 

Stiles being a bad influence on his little self, ft Knowing Himself Too Fucking Well. Time travel AU, torture

Peter walks away. 

Peter/Stiles, marking, one of the sexiest things I've ever written imo 

Peter is dumb, stupid, silly villain. 

Peter’s timing is about as good as Stiles’ filter. Dumb, stupid villain antics. 

Stiles threatens Peter, /lh

Stiles is justifiably sad after a movie. 

Tony Stark-centric:

Gen: Tony takes after Maria. Few people recognize a predator wrapped up in such Tony packaging. 

Gen: Tony bantering with, and teasing, Peter. 

Tony Stark uses the infinity stones. 

Tony survives the stones. 

Tony proposes. In public. In a way that undeniably affirms his feelings. Loki/Tony

Loki meets Morgan for the first time. Loki/Tony, kid fic

Hair Kink—I mean braiding! Aha, ha, ha… Loki/Tony

Female Toni doesn't take well to her children being threatened. 

Soulmates? Tony/Loki

Rhodey gives Loki the shovel talk ft. Parks & Rec

Tony saves the day…?

Bleach / Time travel: Ichigo isn't supposed to be here. 

The 100: Cage Wallace stages a coup before the forty-eight arrive. (Or: Dante Wallace dies before his time.) This changes everything.

[shamebats]

"it's just stress" oh thank god, it's just the silent killer that slowly kills you, perfectly harmless, no need to worry

[robotclownindulgence]

ah yes the two genders

[teaboot]

“Why are you scared of dating” I’m not scared of dating, I just haven’t found anyone’s company to be more enjoyable than my own. And also I don’t care

[justlightmeonfire]

I just don't want anyone to steal my very cursed amulet

[teaboot]

Also the amulet

[whimsicalmayhem]

Is that you talking? Or the amulet? Are you SURE a new hand doesn't want to touch the beacon?

[teaboot]

The amulet and I are not currently looking for a third

[heedra]

hey did i ever share with you guys the absolute funniest thing i have ever seen a fic description lead with

[heedra]

[pronounyaoi]

dude stop before i develop a strange and powerful fondness for you

[problemnyatic]

"I would kill for you. I would die for you" would you take a break for me? Would you sit down and rest? For a day, a week, a year? Would you let others take care of your needs for me? Would you let yourself be held for me? By me?

[beeezah]

OP i hope its okay to reblog with your additions bc they are good

[problemnyatic]

not only is it okay, I think i'd like that very much, thank you.

[yaldabaothadeez]

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a slapping,

As of some one gently flapping, flapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some fairy,” I muttered, “slapping at my chamber door—

            Only this and nothing more.”

[wintersoldierfell]

Quoth the walrus, "Are you sure?"

[its-your-mind]

Took this as a challenge and queued this for two years from now

[hongjoongpresent]

ID: tags from livingnotetonote that reads: in 2 years this will be incomprehensible. End ID

[kristenbouchard]

babes is there anyone who isnt hanging on by the thinnest thread known to man rn or are we all just going thru it this week

[weaselle]

every time I have in hand the last unbroken single strand I hang by dang my dangled dread I find this twine’s too made of threads untwisting in my fist - I swing upon an ever thinner string

[greek-orthodox-priest]

went to miami to recover father sotirios. and made some new friends.

these animals... they are wise. I recruited them to avenge my dear brother. I was then escorted out of the sea world.

[a-book-of-creatures]

Better than the 1596 Marseille dolphin exorcism I suppose.

[maxkowski]

[a-book-of-creatures]

In 1596 dolphins were infesting the port of Marseille. Back in those days, y’see, dolphins didn’t have the cuddly image they enjoy today. They were pests and were causing damage.

So the cardinal of Avignon sent the bishop of Cavaillon to do something about them. In front of a huge crowd, the bishop sprinkled some holy water into the waters of the port and told the dolphins to begone. Whereupon the dolphins indeed turned tail in terror and fled, and were never seen again.

Still not as dramatic as Saint Bernard excommunicating the flies though.

[melononthefloor]

What happened to the flies?

[a-book-of-creatures]

Saint Bernard of Clairvaux built a monastery in 1124, but it was plagued by flies. So the good saint promptly excommunicated them. By the next day the flied had died in such quantities that they had to be shoveled out.

Still not as nutty as the Basel rooster trial though.

[fatefulfindings]

*everyone in unison* um what rooster trial?

[a-book-of-creatures]

In 1474, a rooster in Basel did the heinous and unspeakable act of laying an egg. As everyone knows, an egg laid by a rooster will hatch into a basilisk (or cockatrice).

So to avoid the creation of a cockatrice (or basilisk), the rooster was tried, found guilty, and burned at the stake along with its egg. A huge crowd was present.

The “rooster” in this case was likely a hen that had developed male characteristics (it happens).

Still not as properly legal as the Savigny pig trial though.

[bonnettbee]

Ok, clearly you want an excuse to talk about the pig thing, and I now DESPERATELY want to hear about the pig thing, so PLEASE tell us about the Pig Thing.

[a-book-of-creatures]

In 1457 a sow killed Jehan Martin, a five-year-old boy in Savigny. For that crime she was put on trial and judged guilty, and sentenced to be hanged from a tree.

Her piglets, however, were judged to have been innocent of the murder, and so were returned to the owner, with the caveat that he had to surrender them to the law if they were later found to have eaten any of the boy.

Not to be confused with a whole bunch of other, similar porcine trials.

I won’t mention the 1454 excommunication of eels in Lake Geneva then.

[hemipelagicdredger]

OK what did the eels do, and more pressingly why were they in communion with the church in the first place

[a-book-of-creatures]

Animals are expected to be part of the Church by default, that’s why they take excommunication so badly.

Felix Hemmerlin’s treatise on exorcism, cited by e.g. Wagner’s Historia Naturalis Helvetiae (1680), informs us that around 1221-1229, eels once infested Lake Geneva in huge numbers. So Saint William, bishop of Lausanne, excommunicated them and banned them from the lake, forcing them to live in only one part of it.

Plot twist: as far as we know, Saint William was never bishop of Lausanne.

[redheadedhypocrite]

There’s no way you have historical Christianity nonsense more silly than this to share

[a-book-of-creatures]

I’ve been trying to stay on brand and talk about animals only, but sure, few intersections of Christianity and the legal system get sillier than…

… the Cadaver Synod.

Pope Formosus (“Good-looking”) was pope from 891 to 896, and apparently accumulated a few enemies. After his successor Boniface VI enjoyed all of a 15-day papacy, the next pope elected was Stephen VI.

And he hated Formosus.

How much? He had the corpse of Formosus exhumed, dressed up in papal vestments, and put on trial for his failings as a pope.

End result? Formosus was found guilty of papal fail. The corpse was stripped of its clothes, three fingers on its right hand were severed (no blessings for u), and it was tied to weights and dumped in the Tiber.

Needless to say Stephen VI came to a sticky end. An angry mob deposed him, he was strangled in prison, and Formosus’s corpse was fished up and reburied with honors. And the later popes passed edicts ensuring this kind of silliness would not happen again.

Tune in next time when I tell you about how a lawyer defended a city’s entire rat population.

[strawberriandromeda]

Please, the rats, give us the rats, i beg....

[a-book-of-creatures]

The story of the rats of Autun is also the story of Barthelémy de Chasseneuz (or Chassenée, etc.), a highly original and highly talented defense lawyer. That’s him here.

When the town of Autun was infested by rats in the early 1500s, they were accused of eating the province’s barley crop and were duly summoned to be judged in an ecclesiastical court of law. Chasseneuz was the defense attorney.

How do you defend an entire swarm of rats? You don’t, is the answer. You delay. Chasseneuz’s original defense was “my clients live all over the place, one summons won’t be enough”. So he got a court summons to be posted in all the infested parishes.

When the rats didn’t show up after the elapsed time delay, Chasseneuz proceeded to explain at length why. The rats didn’t come to court, he said, because of their enemies the cats, which are everywhere and always vigilant and hungry. “You cannot expect my clients to undertake a journey which would put them in mortal danger”, he argued in complete seriousness. “Thus they have the legal right to turn down a summons that endangers them”.

As far as we know, the rats never did appear in court, and remained unprosecuted.

Chasseneuz went on to have a distinguished career as a lawyer and was allegedly killed by a poisoned bouquet of flowers.

[libraryogre]

Anyone else picturing @a-book-of-creatures sitting in a tavern, significantly tapping their glass every time someone begs for a story, noting that telling stories sure is thirsty work...

[athelind]

for @a-book-of-creatures

[a-book-of-creatures]

Whuh? Hrm… that one Roman guy who fed people to his pet eels…

[dickensianenglishbulldog-deacti]

Tell us! Tell us pray!

[a-book-of-creatures]

His name was Vedius Pollio and he was by all accounts (namely Pliny and Seneca) a nasty piece of work.

He had a pool full of eels. Slaves who displeased him would get tossed into it for his general entertainment. The eels would rip them to shreds, then Pollio would go on to eat the eels because why not go the whole hog and be cartoonishly evil? As fate would have it a slave broke a crystal cup while Augustus was around, and threw himself at Augustus' feet to beg for mercy. Augustus recognized Pollio's sadism and had the slave freed, the fishpond filled in, and every cup in the place smashed.

That's the eel story anyhow. But what kind of eels were they? They're commonly translated as "lampreys" in English sources, but it seems hard to imagine lampreys tearing someone apart piranha-style. Moray eels are more likely given their reputation for bitiness. At any rate the original text uses the word muraena, which is currently... the scientific name of the Mediterranean moray.

Vedius and his moray eels made a guest appearance in one of the Alix stories, where our hero almost gets to be fish food.

[patricia-von-arundel]

Reblogging again to say fuck Bernard of Clairvaux, but not for this in particular. I'm with him on this one.

[issak]

What a particular rabbit hole

[drazhaq]

Taking care of your depressed eldritch boyfriend (?)

More eldritch Lucifer, this time I made a full body design

[caffeinatedopossum]

"I'm still kicking" is such a funny way to say "I'm still alive". Like lol. I'm still thrashing. Flailing. Writhing even. The violence remains.

[likepetalswealleventuallyfall]

im laughing so hard because no matter what song you listen to 

spiderman dances to the beat

no matter what song ive been testing it and lauing my ass off for an hour

[creepymutelilbugger]

hey guys do you want to circulate the heirloom dancing spiderman again i feel like we could stand to do that

[butterflykisses86]

No DNA Test needed, that is Mama...

[koshlis]

Boosty

Telegram

[koshlis]

Boosty

Telegram

[awyeahitssam]

Oxygen fills his lungs, and Harry holds onto the breath as though it’s hope.

There’s no room for doubt.

“Vulnera Sanentur.”

A sickly yellow sheen washes over the wound. Flesh stitches around a blade. The breath trips out of Harry’s lungs. Hope overwhelms, thick and cloying. His focus wavers. Honey turns to molasses. Staunched blood spills, messy and hot. His throat clicks around a sob.

“It’s too late.”

People gather around him. Harry doesn’t dare look away as long fingers loosen in his shirt.

Harry’s failing. Nobody else can die, not for him—

He suppresses desperation, as he always must, twisting his thoughts in another direction. To stages which make regeneration possible in the first place.

“Vulnera Sanentur,” he breathes again. Superimposes reality with the image of Bellatrix’s knife sliding smoothly free. Organs knitting together. Torn flesh sewn, smooth and seamless. Dobby: healthy, whole.

It’s working. The magic flowing through him is startlingly delicate, a whisper in a torrent's stead. Incredulity and desperation burn and blur together as the grey hue eases from Dobby’s skin. The dagger clatters to the ground, gleaming red. A sliver is all that’s left behind, smaller than the insects Harry’s practised on.

Somebody chokes around their shock. Maybe him. A familiar voice, unusually firm, snaps to be quiet.

Harry presses carefully over a hand buzzing with renewed energy. It tightens in his shirt. Glassy eyes regain focus. Harry can do little more than watch, breathless. Is it enough? Was he?

Bulbous blue eyes swell with familiar awe. Harry’s heart trips. Starts slowing, abandoning frantic attempts to escape his chest.

“Can you hear me?” A whisper. “Do… d’you know where we are?”

“Wes being at Shell Cottage,” Dobby says, tears dripping down his long nose. “Harry Potter be making Dobby better. Harry Potter be saving Dobby!”

Harry chokes around a mad laugh as relief floods through him. “You saved me first, Dobby. You saved all of us. Thank you.”

Dobby sniffs noisily as he breaks into a wide smile, eyes creasing. “Its being Dobby’s pleasure, Harry Potter. Dobby is glad yous being safe.”

“There’s no way…”

Harry drags his eyes up. Around them stand Bill, Fleur, Dean, Luna and Griphook. The rise and fall of Dobby’s chest is steady beneath his palm.

“Thank Magic,” he breathes, closing his eyes for the briefest respite. Relief can suffuse, but never last. “Where’s Hermione?”

“Ron’s taken her in,” Bill says. “She’ll be fine.”

Griphook’s eyes catch on his. Suspicion lines his face, yet the moment he sees Harry looking back he dips his head. Dean catches the exchange and seems to read wariness where Harry finds respect. He hurries to help Griphook into the cottage, Fleur following at their heels.

“We should get Dobby inside, too.” There’s an odd note in Bill’s voice that pulls back Harry’s wandering attention. “The fire’s on. Will you be all right to walk, Luna?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Luna's focus turns her into a stranger in the sunlight. She steps close, kneeling beside them in the sand. “Thank you so much for rescuing me from that cellar, Dobby.”

Brown blossoms across Dobby’s cheeks as awe paints his features in painstaking transparency. Harry wants for a world where a simple thanks isn’t enough to earn his regard. A world where he expects to be appreciated for all he’s done, and all he will do.

“You are being welcome, Luna Lovegood.” Luna’s smile glows brighter. She swipes a tear away with her palm.

“Dobby, can I-- is it all right to carry you? I’m not sure you should be walking, yet…”

“Harry Potter shouldn’t be carryings an elf,” he says, matter-of-fact.

“How about a friend?” Harry asks, and Dobby curls into his shoulder with a sudden sob of joy.

“Dobby could…” the elf sniffs. “Dobby could be using help from friend Harry Potter, sir.”

Harry practically floats to his feet, careful to keep Dobby close. Every breath serves as a reassurance. “I’m glad.”

He strides towards the cottage, Bill and Luna at his sides. His scar prickles and burns. The terrain blurs in and out of focus. Harry watches Voldemort punish those left behind at Malfoy Manor. His rage is terrible as ever, yet it does not penetrate and suffuse Harry. The high of his victory—of saving Dobby—throws the edges of himself and Voldemort into striking clarity.

“Harry, you’re shaking,” Luna murmurs, hand brushing his shoulder. He starts to reality in front of the fire as Bill hurries off. There’s a soft space directly before him, clearly transfigured with Dobby in mind. Harry settles him carefully onto the cot.

“I’m fine. Is this all right? We can put you closer or farther from the fire.”

“This is being perfect, sir.” Dobby watches Harry sharply, a marvellous contrast to his previously vacant gaze. He seems to share Luna’s concern.

“Your scar is bleeding,” she says.

Oh.

Luna murmurs a spell and hands him a damp washcloth. Harry takes care of the bleeding with a few simple swipes. The pain isn’t debilitating. Harry feels strong. In control. Alive.

Death is losing, fought off several times today. Voldemort’s presence, always so overwhelming, feels small. His night continues appearing in flashes… flying to the highest cell of Nurmengard… slaying its prisoner…

Ideas spin dizzyingly, dodging partners with grace, unwilling to come together. Harry stares at the blood and dirt coating his hands. Horcruxes. Hallows. Immediate concerns, and yet…

Harry stands, ignoring the wave of dizziness that crashes through him. “I’m going to wash up,” he tells them, “and then we’ll make a plan. Why don’t you get something to eat, Luna? You must be hungry.”

To his relief, she shakes her head. “It can wait. I’ll stay with Dobby.”

Even if Harry worries after her thinness, it is no greater than his own, Ron’s, or Hermione’s.

He makes quick work of getting clean. The sink feels like a luxury. Red water spins down the drain. Realisation strikes, electrifying knowledge to recognition.