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monicawoe · 4 years ago

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spn fic masterlist

(updated 5/29/21)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric, largely featuring powers!Sam. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

Between Hell and the Hunt - Dean's deal is due, but Sam has found a way to save him. He's made a deal with someone else - someone Lilith can't touch. (2k words, Wild Hunt season 3 AU)

Closer Than You Think - Five times Sam’s eyes were demonic, and one time they weren’t. (3k words, boyKingSam AUs of multiple eps)

Behold the Beast, Behold the Lamb - Season 4 AU. Sam tried to free Dean from Hell, but angels intervened and took Dean for their own purposes. Sam is determined to get Dean back and will do whatever it takes, embracing his abilities fully. The more demon blood Sam drinks, the more demons he kills, the more he changes inside and out until it’s impossible to hide his monstrous side. Ruby, Uriel and Castiel push Sam to fulfill his destiny and become his true self—the Beast of the Revelation. (gen, Sam/Ruby, 20k words; featuring art by @quickreaver)

Prayers Answered - written for the boy king Sam discord server prompt: Sam has grown up in a very religious environment. He's devoted, he goes to church, he prays. He knows that God is with him, because he listens to his prayers. But as Sam grows older, he realizes it's not God that's been listening. And he realizes that he's not asking - he's been ordering, and his loyal servants would never deny their King. (2k words; gen)

Sin Eater - Sam has a different plan to cure demon Dean, but Dean doesn't want to be cured. (Sam drinking blood from demon!Dean, written for @quickreaver for her artwork Bitumen Kiss)

On His Head a Crown - written for the 2019-2020 SWBB, art by @slytherkins Hunters drug Sam, force-feed him demon blood, and bring him to where they’ve captured Brady. Brady tells Sam he knows how to stop the Apocalypse, and Sam, despite his better judgment, hears him out: Sam himself is the horsemen Conquest—aka the Antichrist—and he alone can bring Lucifer’s apocalypse to a grinding halt. Sam resists, but when he discovers the good he can do with his new powers, he decides to use them to atone for all his past mistakes. (21k, Sam/Brady, gen, AU of 5x03-5x04)

Many more under the cut

Best Self - written for @alyndra9 for the prompt: King of Hell Sam meets Kale!Sam and they have many differences of opinion to work out. (aka the only one who knows what Sam really wants is Sam.) words by monicawoe banner by @quickreaver! (~4k words, Sam/Sam)

All You Have Is Your Fire - written for @quickreaver for the 2020 Supernatural Spring Fling Dean has known fire all his life. Sometimes it sounds like his brother. (~2k words; gen)

Tear You Apart - written for @wetsammywinchester who wanted Soulless!Sam/Brady & Soulless!Sam taking on the mantle of King of Hell: Sam doesn’t want his soul back. He resurrects Brady who helps him figure out a way to outsmart Death: by damaging his soul so it can’t be reintegrated. With Brady’s help, Sam reclaims his power, and takes his soul apart one piece at a time. (8k words; Soulless!Sam/Brady)

Hellbound - Sam is in Hell, and then he isn't. He's standing on a sidewalk with a stranger looking back at him—a stranger that has his face. My 2020 spn-summergen fic! Featuring soulless!Sam, disembodied soul-Sam and amnesiac Dean. (gen, 8k)

Lakeside Fishing - written for @denugis - After defeating Famine, after days of suffering through demon blood withdrawal in the panic room, Sam needs time to clear his head. Early in the morning, he heads to a small lake seeking solitude, but instead finds an unexpected ally. (4k words; Sam/Patrick; set after My Bloody Valentine; witch!Sam)

His Soul to Keep - art by @sketchydean - written for the SPN Eldritch Bang horror event - Dean’s deal is coming due soon. When he finds out from Ruby that Hell will turn him into a demon, he refuses to accept it, even though he can already feel pieces of his soul starting to crumble away. Sam is his only anchor to the world, and Dean finds it harder and harder to leave his side. After Broward County, after watching Dean die a thousand deaths, Sam decides he’s not going to let Dean go to Hell. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means allying himself with Ruby and using the darkness inside of him. Sam casts a soul-binding spell on Dean; they might not be able to break the deal, but they can change who Dean’s soul belongs to. (13k, Sam/Dean, hard-gen, AU of season 3))

Last Drop - art by @quickreaver -written for the Twisted Tropes event - Sam/Brady AU set while Sam’s at Stanford: Sam is slowly adjusting to his new life at Stanford University. He’s left his life of hunting behind, and traded it for endless studying and tests, but he’s plagued by dreams of Dean and Dad in danger, dreams of blood and violence. Then he meets Tyson Brady, who’s always there with a smile and a cup of coffee to get Sam through all-nighters. Sam’s dreams start to fade, but just as he’s getting used to a nice normal life, he starts to develop abilities—powers he can’t control. Brady thinks they’re great, but Sam knows power never comes without a cost. (14k, Sam/Brady)

Make Angels of Us All - art by @amberdreams1960 - Sam has a guardian angel. It’s been with him his whole life, trying to keep him safe. The angel gives Sam power he can’t control: power to move things with his mind, power over fire, and wings that nobody else can see—bony and jagged with scaly feathers. Dean says monsters aren't real, but Dad thinks they are. Sam's power scares him, and he’s not always sure what's real, but what he does know is people keep trying to kill the three of them, and he won't let that happen. (~20K, gen)

Burdens, Doublefold - cowritten with @quickreaver, art by ileliberte What if Dean left Sam at Stanford after the fire, hoping it would keep his little brother safe and make things better? Somehow, 'better' never seems to be in the Winchester Family cards. Sam gets tangled up with his ex-roommate Brady, tracking psychics, but dealing with demons is never honest business. Dean carries on until his father is put in grave danger. He is left on his own to deal, stumbling into Harvelle's Roadhouse for help, where Dean gets just a little more than he bargained for. Eventually, the brothers’ paths twist and turn their way back to each other, but the results could mean the End of Days. (67k, gen, AU of seasons 1-2)

Before the One You Serve When Dean comes to get Sam at Stanford, he finds him living with Brady. And Dean doesn't trust Brady, even though he can't quite put his finger on why. Not at first. (5k, Sam/Brady)

He Who Fights Monsters - cowritten with nwspaprtaxis, art by @quickreaver AU of the summer between Seasons 3 and 4. Dean's dead, dragged down kicking and screaming to Hell. Sam's not dealing well. And Ruby’s got her work cut out for her. (52K, Sam/Ruby)

John Winchester is Dead They say those Winchester boys're crazy. Drive around in a big black beast and drink too much and laugh about mean things. They say their daddy's worse, but you never see him. He's just a voice on the other end of the phone or a darker shape in the back seat of their dark car. They say John Winchester died two years ago. (2k, gen, horror)

Breathing, Talking, Dead Man Walking - John Doe, male, approximately thirty-seven years old. Subject was found by EMTs in close proximity to the site of a sizable explosion in Lebanon, Kansas. (2k, gen, Sam & Dean)

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - featuring art by @quickreaver When Sam opened Lucifer’s Cage, the only thing he found inside was Lucifer’s grace – his grace. With the return of his grace, Sam remembered his past – his war against the Host, his Fall, and his plans to bring about the End. The thing is…he doesn’t want the Apocalypse anymore. He likes things the way they are, and tries everything to keep his identity a secret- especially from Dean. Of course, the four Horsemen, Hell and Heaven have other ideas. (13K, gen)

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Pattern Recognition: A Hannibal/Supernatural fusion AU - Sam and Dean split after River Pass, and their confrontation with the Horseman, War. Since Will’s escape from the Baltimore Institute for the Criminally Insane, he and Sam have been in hiding. They have a cabin, in the middle of nowhere, that keeps them off the radar; they find comfort in each other. But they can’t stay off the chessboard forever, especially not when Lucifer, wearing Hannibal Lecter as a vessel, is tearing the world apart around them. (33k, Sam Winchester/Will Graham)

Impala's Run - cowritten with @quickreaver, art by adrenalineshots Sam and Dean Singer (aka Winchester) aren’t your average young Kansas farmers. Their home is very, very far from Kansas, in fact. Many light-years worth of ‘far’. The boys may look human, but certain talents set them apart: Dean speaks the language of machines, and Sam can heal through manipulating energy. Hidden on Earth by their father, their agricultural lifestyle gets rocked when warring alien races discover where they’ve landed, and Sam and Dean are forced to make the run of their lives. (23k, gen)

All Our Wrath and Cutting Beauty - art by @quickreaver - Sam killed Alistair, but not before Alistair reminded Dean of who and what he’d become in Hell. Dean knows Sam can take down Lilith, and he’ll make damn sure Sam gets strong enough to do just that. They’ll stop the Apocalypse – together, no matter how many bodies stack up, or how much blood is spilt.(11k, horror)

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

#spn fics #spn fanart #sam winchester #boy king sam #monicawoe's fics

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heirloommtomatoes · 5 years ago

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don’t read the last page but i stay

Mickey and Ian go on another lunch date :) Just some quick super simple fluff! Literally nothing at all happens in this other then a cute date. These boys deserve nothing but sweet domesticity forever and ever, thanks.

Word Count: 2.3k~

———

Mickey picks Ian up from his afternoon shifts whenever they can cram it into their schedule. Do they live together? Sure. Did they get out of prison barely a year ago where their combined shared space was half the size of their Gallagher house bedroom? Sure. Do they still try to spend almost every waking moment together? Absolutely.

Ian’s schedule as an EMT, as sporadic as it has the potential to be, has fallen into a steady routine the past few months. Since Debbie’s arrest, Lip moving out, and the increased responsibility in the Gallagher house, Rita makes sure that every Friday Ian hands his shift over by 5pm. Mickey was promoted at his work — a promotion that warranted his first real Gallagher party a few months back — and is working steadily at the mall as the general security manager.

Ian’s laughing with the new members of his team over some pictures of their kids from last weekend when his phone buzzes. He slides it half-way out of his pocket to look at the screen:

Mick: hey dipshit I took a photo of me waiting for you

Mick: Attachment: 1 Image

Ian swipes on the message and unlocks his phone. The photo is of a mummified, presumably ancient corpse sitting cross-legged on a ridge, probably out of some National Geographic article he’d found while scrolling endlessly through random news pages while waiting for him. He stifles a laugh as he types his response.

Ian: 🖕

Ian: be out in a sec

Mick: 🖕

“That your husband?” Samantha, a younger EMT fresh out of training, nods toward his phone.

“Yeah,” Ian responds as he slips his phone back into his pocket, “Meeting him for dinner and drinks.”

Rita looks over her shoulder from where she’s rummaging around her locker. Ian expects her to make some witty remark at his expense as per usual, but instead: “You got the best relationship record outta any of us here, Gallagher,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “Eleven years, a bipolar diagnosis, and several prison stints seems to be the trick.”

He doesn’t mean to really joke about it; if what they went through together doesn’t count as some seriously real shit, he’s terrified to think of what does. But if he can’t make light of it now and then, if he can’t at least try to ponder the distance between then and now and look back at how far they’ve come and laugh at the simple joy of it all, then what the hell else is he supposed to do?

Laughs ripple around the locker room as Ian raises an warm to wave goodbye to everyone, overlapping “Bye Ian!”s and “Have a good weekend”s following him out.

Ian emerges from the garage, shrugging off his EMT jacket in the mid-afternoon summer sun in a way that makes Mickey’s heart flutter in his chest. He carries it loosely in a hand at his side.

“Bout time, Gallagher,” Mickey says to him with a grin. He’s been smiling a lot these days, he thinks; not that that’s anything new around Ian. He’s been making him smile since he was seventeen.

“Hey,” Ian responds easily, throwing an arm around his shoulders and planting a kiss to his cheek. A blush creeps up Mickey’s face and he grins at the ground as they walk. Ian starts babbling about the kid who broke his arm on the monkey bars and an older woman who fell down her stairs and Mickey listens, butting in for the odd comment or exclamation here and there as they make their way down the block to Boystown. It’s become their once-a-month Friday evening tradition. Mickey picks him up from work, they fill each other in on their days as they walk, they grab dinner and drinks either at one of their favourite spots in Boystown if they’re feeling like they want their own little escape, or at The Alibi if they feel like keeping it close to home. Today is too beautiful of a day to not make use of the clean outdoor patios the bars in Boystown can provide.

Mickey recounts his day when Ian’s done and maybe it doesn’t sound quite as glamorous on the surface of things, but it barely occurs to either of them. They’re both doing something they’re good at, something they’re each coming to realize they genuinely enjoy, something that makes them feel useful, and if that isn’t success, what is?

“So this old woman stuffs a bra between her boobs. Like hell I was gonna reach in there and drag it out,” Mickey huffs as he finishes up his story. Well, maybe something they genuinely enjoy most of the time. Ian laughs and it’s Mickey’s favourite sound. It’ll always be Mickey’s favourite sound.

“You sure you’re not gay?” Ian asks skeptically, recounting all the times Mickey’s jokingly —and not-as-jokingly — denied the label.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Mickey says, casting a mischievous glance his way, “My husband is, though.”

“Ohh, I see,” Ian says with a nod, casually changing the subject as he remembers Mickey’s earlier texts, “Oh hey listen, that was a really cute photo of you earlier, Mick. You’ve found your angles, I’m impressed,” Ian says, his voice dripping with mischievous sarcasm.

“Ohhh, thanks, man,” Mickey responds with a playful nudge to Ian’s ribs, “My beauty secret is this really cool thing my husband does called making me wait for ten fucking minutes.”

Ian raises his brows at him. Game on. He opens his mouth to respond in kind, but Mickey’s grabbing him by the upper arm and tugging him into a brick-lined alleyway. Ian grunts in protest, hands flying to Mickey’s biceps to steady himself before he’s shoved against the wall.

Mickey’s kissing him like he’s been thinking about doing all day while Ian’s out here being fucking Superman, like he’s been thinking about doing his whole life. He feels Ian’s smile against his mouth and his heart leaps in his chest and he loves him. He loves him. Mickey’s not sure how or when it happens, but suddenly Ian’s grabbing him and he’s being spun and his back’s being shoved against the wall so quickly his breath almost leaves him.

“Watch it, tough guy,” he breaths, and doesn’t mean a word of it. It’s the closest he’ll come to saying do whatever you want with me.

Ian huffs a laugh, threading his left hand into Mickey’s right as he studies his husband’s face. The cold metal of his wedding band brushes against his fingers and Mickey leans forward, capturing Ian’s lips in a warm kiss that reminds him of the dugouts, reminds him of when they were teenagers too skittish and childish and young to know what to do with the swelling in their chests every time they looked at each other. Ian’s the first to pull back, but he tugs on Mickey’s hand and leads them out of the alley.

“I’m hungry,” he says with a shrug by way of explanation when Mickey gives him an incredulous stare.

“So am I,” Mickey replies quickly, glancing pointedly downwards toward Ian’s crotch. Ian barks a laugh and rolls his eyes. He’s never said it out loud, but damn if he doesn’t love how fucking funny his husband is. No one really knows that about Mickey, he thinks. Distantly he remember’s Mickey’s “now they’re black and blue balls” in the hotel room that one night when they were teenagers. Damn if he didn’t think about that one and swoon over his protectiveness and Southside charm for a good week after. In the back of his mind, he remembers Byron’s list of complaints: he’s socially inept, he’s politically ignorant, he’s violent…

Meanwhile, Ian looks fondly at Mickey and knows that he’s funny, he’s thoughtful, he’s loyal, he’s his husband.

“The fuck you starin’ at?” Mickey snaps at him, an eyebrow raised halfway up his damn forehead.

Ian rolls his eyes, “Nothin’. What do you wanna eat?”

Ian sees the hint of a shy smile on his face as Mickey turns his gaze to the various restaurants they’ve been passing, “Uh, I’m kinda feelin’ Sheffield’s, man. That sound good to you?” He asks, looking back at Ian. The midday sun silhouettes his head, creating a halo out of his red hair and glowing against the hard edges of his face. Mickey remembers the round-faced, freckled boy at the convenience store with the floppy bangs and oversized flannels. Hell, he remembers him before that. He remembers third grade, and some loser with a mop of curly red locks and oversized front teeth leaning over and asking him for a pencil. Looking at him now with his wedding band catching the light, his chiseled jaw, and the lop-sided grin directed right at Mickey, he looks like fucking Adonis.

“…Mick?” Ian’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“Huh?”

“I was saying we’re here, Neil Armstrong,” Ian quips, “Come back to Earth, I wanna eat.”

“Ay, references like that are my thing,” Mickey says as Ian’s arm around his shoulder steers them toward Sheffield’s. They continue bickering as they walk in the restaurant, much to the server’s constant exasperation as she leads them to the patio. “Since when?” “Since fuckin’…always, man.”

They sit out in the Chicago summer sun, basking in the warmth of it together as they sip their drinks. Mickey, ever the loyalist, gets the cheapest beer on the menu after casting his eyes over the ludicrously long list of names, only a third of which he can pronounce. That’s what you get for going to a brewery, he figures absentmindedly to Ian. Ian gets one of the beers lower in proof, but he knows it’ll still bring him a pleasant buzz.

“If nothing else man, your meds make getting drunk economical as hell,” Mickey says to him with a breathy laugh as he hands the waiter their menus with a nod.

“You’re telling me,” Ian responds as he leans back lazily, comfortably spreading his legs in the chair as he grabs the sunglasses hanging off his shirt collar and slides them over his eyes. Mickey follows suit with his own pair of sunglasses and damn if the two of them don’t look good. Mickey changed out of his work uniform before coming to meet him and he’s wearing a pair of jeans that actually fit him, a black tank and blue short sleeve button up top that’s open and fluttering in the light breeze. He looks so relaxed and in his element, and Ian can’t help but wonder if this is what he used to wear in Mexico. For once the memory isn’t tinged with heartache; they’re here now.

“You look good,” Ian says, eyeing Mickey up and down from across the wooden picnic-like table.

Mickey flashes him a smile, “Says you,” he responds, and it’s so disgustingly sweet and domestic that he barely knows what to do with himself. He’ll never get used to this, he thinks, and he doesn’t want to. Ian smiles in return before Micky continues and leans forward, “I was thinking about getting my GED.”

“No shit,” Ian responds, mimicking Mickey in leaning forward across the table, a casual hand still around his beer, “What prompted that?” He asks before taking a sip.

Mickey shrugs, “I like my job now, but I was talking to Larry and he thinks it’d be a good idea. It’d give me better hirability or whatever, and…I dunno, I like my job now,” he repeats almost sheepishly, like he’s about to admit something terrible, “But I’ve been thinking about wanting…more, I guess?”

Ian smiles and reaches across to put a hand over the one Mickey has resting casually on the table, “Let’s make it happen, then.”

Mickey meets his eye for a brief moment with a shy half-smile that he hides by taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m serious, Mick. We can get some study books for you, Kev and V can look after the kids when you need the house to be quiet for two seconds so you can study…” he trails off, lowering his head slightly to prompt Mickey to meet his gaze.

“Alright, alright, Jesus,” Mickey finally says with a chuckle, turning his hand over to grasp Ian’s and rub his thumb over his knuckles, “Love you,” he adds quietly, but it’s not shy or embarrassed or scared; it’s just for Ian, and only Ian.

The two of them sit for what could be hours or minutes longer, chatting about their future plans like it’s nothing but it means fucking everything to both of them. Neither of them had ever really let themselves dream of a future like this. Whenever Ian’s mind had wandered to thinking of moments like this, of sentences like “Kev and V can look after the kids”, he’d dismissed it as the wishful thinking of a manic episode. “Fucked for life” had practically been Mickey’s life mantra. They share a house, they share food, they take turns making dinner, they have monthly goddamn traditions that include sunshine and drinks and risky kisses in alleyways.

They stay at Sheffield’s far longer than they had originally intended as the waiter informs them there’s live music that evening. So they stay, both buzzed on their beers and drunk on happiness and sun and music, sharing insults and laughs, basking in the comfort and familiarity of each other’s presence as the sun casts an orange glow over the Chicago skyline.

#gallavich fic #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #this is some teeth rotting fluff yall i went off #im a good mood today what can i say jksjks #i love my BOYS!#i had to pretend to know what its like to be attracted to men to write this so pls appreciate my efforts jsksj #jk but also ...#my writing

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barbecuedphoenix · 8 years ago

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I would like to see a AU with the Eldarya guys/people in a coffe shop

Let’s be honest: it’s goingto be the single least efficient coffee shop in the city. But people will keepcoming for the eye candy… >u>

Warning:Longest head-canon, ever. 14 characters,each with their own little stories.

Nevra, the Head Waiter

Naturally, this snake oilmerchant with fangs ladies’ man is going to be where the action is: on themain floor, catering to all the customers personally. (Because no one cantrust him in handling kitchen or bar-top equipment.) He’s got the drive,the guile, the inbred hospitality, and the metaphorical eyes on the back of hishead to pull off even a morning or evening rush single-handed. And later bragabout the triple-figure tips, phone numbers, and juicy gossip he collected that day to his coworkers in the back-room, even when his voice is hoarse and his feethave lost all feeling. Nevra actually keeps track of his ‘scores’ in hispersonal agenda-book, always ready to outdo himself every month. (Because let’sface it… there is no competition for him from the rest of the servers.)

Though quite a few of hiscoworkers feel like putting fresh garlic in his next espresso (for himself orfor his ‘beloved customers’), they can’t do it for a few reasons: 1.) Thecustomers and tips that Nevra brings in make up half the café’s total income.The place will sink without his pretty, monocular face on the floor. 2.) He’sactually generous with his coworkers. Newbies on the staff know they can relyon him (until they’re used as customer bait during evening rushes for‘experience’). And he never keeps any of his tips for himself, always making apoint of strutting to the collective tip jar to put in what looks like theprice for a new smartphone. So whether they like him or not, the gigolo has to stay.

Nevra is quite proud of hisjob, and hopes to eventually see the café become the city’s next ‘must-seedestination’ (or, more likely, buy and renovate the place as part of hisnetwork of high-end dining spots). So he doesn’t tolerate unprofessional shenaniganson his floor (beyond swapping phonenumbers, which is sanctified activity as far as he’s concerned). What’sguaranteed to tick him off: if a customer is boorish to one of his babiesjunior serving staff, if one of his coworkers half-asses an order, or if hecatches anyone stealing from that tip jar he’s filling. In either case, thecriminal party can expect to find themselves sheepishly shuffling to the doorunder the force of Nevra’s gimlet smile.

Ezarel, the Baristo and Assistant Baker

Who would have thought thatthe biochemist graduate student / coddled trust-fund baby would have to dirtyhis hands by working part-time in a common city café? But that’s exactly whathappened after a late night prank against another obnoxious student in theuniversity lab went a little too far. Switching reagent labels can yield somenasty results. Long story short: the lab was quarantined for weeks, Ezarel’sparents received a damages bill that looked like the price for one fullsemester, and Ezarel was given an ultimatum via Skype conference: pay off thatbill himself and grow up, or get pulled out of the university.

It took weeks of inglorious job-hunting in the city—because thatprank got him blacklisted by university staff and technicians, so he couldn’teven work on campus—before Ezarel scored a job making pastries andridiculously-creamy lattes at the café. Thanks to that waiter Nevra wholistened to his story, laughed his ass off, and then hooked him up for aninterview with the café’s owner Miiko. His only qualifications: over six yearsof advanced biochemistry with a stellar GPA (campus shenanigansnotwithstanding), and an aristocratic palate when it comes to sweets. He knows when a crème brulee isn’t up toscratch, damn it.

So now wise-guy Ezarel worksfour to five hours a day at the café, slowly paying off his debt in-between jugglingclasses. He’s either at the counter, trolling customers about type-2 diabeteswhile serving up their perfect triple-sugar-dark-chocolate macchiatos, or in thekitchen: up to his elbows in flour, sugar frosting his hair and eyebrows, and tickingoff the head baker Karuto whenever he points out that the latter is skirtingcity health regulations. Or that the lemon-ginger-coconut coffee cake needs a lot less coconut cream and more‘natural’ ingredients that won’t bloat waistlines.

Still, despite hisinsistence that he’s only staying until he pay off that lab bill, Ezarel atheart is aware that he rather likes this job. He knows he’s the best in handling the ornery steamers and coffeegrinders. And there’s something satisfying with this kind of applied chemistry(that results in him taking home a thermos of spiced honey-chai tea latte andhalf-a-dozen day-old pastries each time). Plus, pissing-off Karuto only getsbetter when it’s his turn to write both the ‘joke of the day’ and ‘daily specials’on the café’s menu board. Valkyon is always forced to correct the weirdthings that Ezarel writes there—like ‘Ye Olde Goat’s Beard Sandwiches’– tosave his skin.

Valkyon, the Cashier and Security Guard

Normally, it’s considered a questionable marketing decision toplace a silent, burly, six-foot-three man at the register, where customersshould be encouraged to indulge themselves with their next order. But afterNevra caught their last cashier stealing from the register and thetip jar, Miiko opted for foolproof honesty instead of charisma.

Valkyon is only slightly-less wooden than the counter he’smanaging, but every day, the café’s revenue stays strictly on par with theinvoices. Café lines also seem to move faster: it seems that his silent staremakes customers universally uncomfortable, so they never dare to spend morethan four seconds on deciding their order. And just because this man doesn’tmake small-talk doesn’t mean he can’t memorize half-a-dozen complex coffeeorders on hearing them once, or whip out exact change for a massive bill infive seconds without reaching for the calculator. Best of all, Valkyon has anuncanny way of discouraging customers from protesting at the rise in menuprices, with just a scowl and ten words: “We’re compensating for changes in thesupply chain. It’s procedure.”

No one really knows where he came from or why a guy like him isworking at the café’s register, but if they’re smart, they’ll refrain fromasking. And instead sneak a look over the counter at the metal baseball bat hekeeps hidden below the register at all times. Because Valkyon’s real job iskeeping the café a family-friendly place when it’s smack in the middle of arough inner-city district. He pulls the longest hours out of everyone in thecafé because he’s also the bouncer and nighttime security guard. Mostopportunistic youths on the streets now give the café a wide berth after dark,even when there’s only Valkyon inside by the register, quietly tallying theday’s profits with the invoices. That’s because the last ill-timed break-in hadalready become a district legend: ending with two tables and six chairs broken,the steamer on the other side of the floor from the counter, and one sobbingyoung man who locked himself in the customer bathroom while Valkyon, without ascratch, still holding the locked register protectively under one arm, finallyphoned the police.

Coworkers say that for someone who performs such a vital role inthe café, Valkyon never asks for much. Beyond a free mug of strong barley teafor himself and a bag of leftover cheese, seeds, and nuts for his pet mouseafter every shift. As well as the right to keep a live video-feed on said mouseplaying on his phone next to the register at all times, so he’ll be the firstto know if the little nugget ever takes sick while he’s away at work. EvenEzarel has given up on teasing him about it.

Miiko, the Café Owner

It will take a person withthe patience of a saint and the savvy of a media mogul to save this screwy caféon the wrong side of town. And the job fell like a bowling ball into Miiko’s lap when her mentor suddenlycroaked and left her the once-award-winning café in his will. She wastechnically jobless at the time, so accepting ownership of the café seemed likethe most sensible thing to do. Never mind that she knew zilch about foodservice at the time and has a fuse short enough to send bomb techniciansscattering in fear: she could learn on the job, right?

Every day since the attorneyread out her extended-death-sentence from the will, Miiko has been fighting thefeeling that she’s paying for the biggestmistake of her life. Especially with a near-total staff turnover everyeight weeks, a stubborn average of three stars (approximately) on Yelp!,spreadsheets that break-even at best, and an ongoing list of complaints on bizarrethings that keep happening in the café that boggle even her mind. (It alsodoesn’t help that she ends up yelling at half their sponsors and cateringpartners in her office within forty-five seconds on average, but hey, that’swhy she keeps Leiftan around to scout for new options. Their café may not havemany friends, but they have their pride, damn it!)

Still. Miiko can’t forceherself to get rid of the core staff of the café. Even when half of them areuntested but loyal desperados scraped in from the streets, and the other halfhave major personality problems. She of all people knows what it’s like to bethrown a lifeline at the last moment. So every time she sweeps into the caféfor an inspection and her complementary matcha tea, she deliberately curbs her tongueat seeing Chrome scrub off Ashkore’s latest round of graffiti on the frontwindow, or when Alajea drops a tray of hot Americanos onto an old man’s lap, orwhen Nevra chats up the gaggle of college girls in the corner and leaves white-facedYkhar on the floor to field other customers, or when Karuto gets an apoplexyagain on finding Ezarel’s newest ‘correction’ to the café’s menu board. They’llall learn as she will, in time. As the captain of this ship, she just has totry to be optimistic.

Leiftan, the CaféRepresentative

He’s perhaps Miiko’ssaving grace in the chaotic café: the reliable second-in-command who dropped insuddenly and mysteriously like a blessing from the clouds when she was stillpulling the establishment out of the grave. A suave man with the literalpatience of an angel and that disarmingly-gentle smile, it didn’t take long forLeiftan to be given the job that Miiko loathed: currying favor with otherdining spots, reviewers, patrons, and sponsors across the city. Talking topeople and building networks is his specialty, really; he couldn’t object tothe job in good conscience.

But because Miiko andthe staff go through their contacts like a teenaged girl goes through facialtreatments, Leiftan is constantly onthe road looking for more flexible critics, better suppliers, more generoussponsors, kinder allies, and worthwhile employees (to name a few). For some,he’ll counsel them carefully behind Miiko’s back before bringing them tothe café: warning them on what to expect, how to drop her guard, and especiallywhat not to say to stay in her office for at least a few minutes. (Forty-fiveseconds is the average, the last time he checked; those are steep odds, so theyhad better heed his words well.)

Still, for all hisnegotiator’s savvy, the café is somehow stuck at three stars and repelling thebig names in the city’s dining and entertainment industry like a geriatric at ared-carpet event. The catering business is a tough one, he likes to remindMiiko (and others) whenever he returns from another apparently-unsuccessfulmeeting with a prospective supplier or client. Patience is a virtue.

In his rare off-time,the last thing that Leiftan wants is to spend too much time in the café; ascharming as the little place is, it has become synonymous with work in hismind. So at most, he stops by for a caramel macchiato and croissant to-go, andto give a kind word to whatever new face he sees behind the counter. Because heknows (through grueling experience) that there’s a 90% chance they’ll resign intwo weeks.

Kero, the Accountant

He became Miiko’slong-suffering accountant when he showed up at her café one day, nervouslyclutching her ad in the newspaper, and stammered his way through the interviewand why he wasn’t working for major corporations anymore. He was stillstammering for a chance to prove his skill with numbers when Miiko told himthat she’d see him tomorrow morning on the second-floor office. And then heburst into tears, forcing her to brew him a cup of Earl Grey tea to calm himdown. But that part of the story is kept strictly between him and his new boss.

Since then, Kero has servedMiiko with ferocious loyalty on their shared office floor above the café, pullingin generous overtime without being asked, and never so much as asking for araise after all the scrupulous spreadsheets and tax-forms he prepares. His onlygrief is that she doesn’t seem very… patient when listening to his financialadvice. Those meetings always seemed to end with a shot-gun blast of “Are yousaying we can’t work this out?”, forcing Kero to apologize for questioning herdedication and promise to look for more options on his end. And then retiringto his desk, to blink down at his papers and wonder how the hell that happened again. He swore he woulddo better for himself here…

Jamon, the Supplier

An independentWHO-certified, fair-trade organic and vegetarian grocer who was one of Miiko’searliest suppliers, and to date, the one who has lasted the longest. It’smostly because of a strange loyalty he feels to the café’s offbeat cast ofcharacters, who’re always happy to brew a ginseng-fortified kale smoothie justfor him from their salad greens (though he’s also aware none of them couldstomach the same vegetables he could). And frankly, they really look like they can use some help.

So even though he’s notmaking much of a profit by supporting them, Jamon continues to make regularwhole-sale deliveries to Miiko’s café at a sizable discount. Carting enormouscrates from his 100% fossil-fuel free pedal-and-solar-powered car to theirkitchen, either solo or with Cameria for major loads. And always shrugging offthe baristo, baristas, and main baker with a blasé air when they complain atthe ‘rabbit food’ he gives them to work with. Jamon will just grunt his usualline for disgruntled shoppers: it’s healthy for them and the environment. Noreturns.

Karuto, the Head Baker

A cantankerous war veteranand baker said to have been kicked out from a hotel kitchen after getting intoa fist-fight with the manager (though some versions of the tale involved arolling pin, or a bag of flour and a lit cigarette). Regardless, he wound up atMiiko’s modest café looking for a fresh start and what he hoped would be arespite for his piano-wire nerves and high-altitude cholesterol in his middleyears. The reality has turned out to be anything but, considering the clownsthat he now works with.

The worst of the lot is thatobnoxious rich-college-boy who works part-time in his kitchen, and is alwaysready to criticize his creations and his method with that ridiculous grin.The only things that keep Karuto from repeating that stunt with his ex-hotelmanager are a.) reminding himself that he can beat that skinny kid like baguettedough without breaking a sweat, b.) Ezarel’s body is probably insured to a six-figuresum, and c.) taking a pack of cigarettes and a daily mug of Irish coffee in the back alley, with a quadruple-shot ofespresso mixed into the hard liquor. It’s still a hard-knock life.

Ykhar, the Barista and Junior Waitress

A perky but anxious youngjournalism student who found herself at a loss at how the logical tradition of interningat newspapers was doing nothing for her student debts. She came to Miiko’s caféat first looking for a quiet place to sit and mope with a mug ofchamomile-and-honey tea, maybe with almond milk if they had any. Ykhar wasvery surprised, and more than a little in awe, when the elegant, fierybarista—Miiko herself working at the counter at the time—walked up with herorder and asked what was bothering her. A trial job was offered that samenight.

Since then Ykhar has thrownherself into her new job as barista and waitress with the same zeal andbreathless eye-to-detail that set her apart in all the newspapers shevolunteered at. (And limited her to no more than five-hour shifts a day unlessparamedics are on call. Her feet in their Birkenstocks always ache by thesecond hour. And customers have learnt to take pity on her every time shescrews up an order and starts looking green in the face.) Because the hecticjuggling of orders, customers, and workplace health regulations in a café isonly good practice for the hectic world of media, right?

She’s also powered by thatcollege girl’s desire to impress the alphas in her circle—namely glamorous Miikoand worldly, charismatic Leiftan. So as part of her daily ‘mirror pep-talk’ inthe employee bathroom, Ykhar talks to herself like she is Miiko: the fiery vixen and mistress of the bar who won’t takeshit from anyone! And when thatconfidence collapses at the first customer who comes up to her with an “ActuallyI didn’t order this…”, she goes back to the bathroom for five minutes andimagines it’s Leiftan giving her a second pep-talk: that she’s still a champeven with one or two mistakes on her record, as long as she learns to forgive,pick herself up, learn to do better, and getto that next customer surely waiting outside…!

Alajea, the Other Barista and Junior Waitress

Balancing out high-strungYkhar is the airy-fairy musician Alajea, who works part-time at the café whenshe isn’t out trying to score a record deal with her voice. So far, she’s gladthat none of the producers and coaches she meets know that she’s the singlebiggest source of daily expenses in her day-job, from the number of orders shefumbles, and the dishes, mugs, cakes, and coffees that don’t exactly end up ontabletops where they’re supposed to be. (If she’s lucky that day, they won’tend up on the customer either.) Or that she’s the biggest drain on the café’s supplyof apricot syrup and lemon zest, for all the bubbly iced teas she likes tobrew for herself on the side.

No one’s sure why Miikohasn’t fired her yet. But it might be because no one else takes care of thetoddlers, the loners, and the pet dogs and cats that sometimes find their wayinto the café. Alajea may forget to bring the half-dozen coffees-to-go to thatbusinessman by the door chewing his nails and glancing spasmodically at hiswristwatch. But she never forgets to bring frosted strawberry macaroons to thatfour-year-old getting ignored by her mother as she rails about her husband toher girlfriend, or free coffee to the long-faced old man in the corner with hisarmload of newspapers, or to sneak a bowl of milk and old chicken sandwiches tothat fat dog lolling under the corner table. Fortunately, Nevra taught her thatfeeding chocolate or coffee to dogs isn’t the best idea, after the first dayshe tried it.

Karenn, the Advertiser

When Nevra’s little sistertried to squeeze a job out of him ��as a family favor’, he relented only after stipulatingthat she will not apply for the baristaposition. Karenn is capable of many things, and the last thing he wants isto catch her sneaking shots of the liquor they save for Karuto’s Irish coffees.Or spiking customer coffees to encourage extra tips.

So after Miiko and Leiftanlearnt about her impressive social network pages, she was hired as the café’sgeneral PR manager, online and on the ground. Leave it to a teen girl toknow the internet watering holes. Most days, people can find Karenn at acorner table of the café with a rich mocha, laced with peppermint syrup forthat extra kick… busy spam-posting café updates and photos on four differentsocial networking sites on four different devices. And somehow stilleavesdropping on everyone in the room. Other days, she runs around the cityputting up café fliers, distributing coffee samples, and handing out discountcoupons to the strangest people in the strangest places. Because let’s behonest: their café can’t compete with major coffee-and-tea chains, so they shouldappeal to niche groups, right?

Every time she successfully puts up a flier on a window of a high-rise apartment,crashes a college party with café gifts, gives away coffee to a wild-eyedhomeless man, or distributes coupons to a biker gang, Karenn takes a selfieduring her latest achievement and sends it to her friends and Nevra. Heface-palms every single time, right in front of the customers.

Chrome, the Delivery Boy

A street scamp that Karenn foundoutside a bank one afternoon, chaining his bike to a lamp-post and holding asign that said he’ll “shine shoes, clip dog nails, fetch newspapers, andanything else for spare change”. She and Nevra soon convinced him to work for alittle more by delivering customer orders for the café to neighboring offices,shops, and clinics. A spry kid with his own bike, who knew the city streetslike the back of his hand, could be an asset.

There was one thing thatdidn’t factor into their plan: the boy has no concept of time. Half the time,they’ll receive phone-calls from customers on how their coffees were lateenough to become lukewarm. The other half of the time, Chrome will be lateenough in returning that the next delivery order is getting lukewarm on thecafé counter. (And the boy will take still more time in re-entering thebuilding, because Nevra is already leaning on the counter, frowning likethunder and drumming his fingers on the tabletop.) The end result: Chrome’sphone number is placed on speed-dial for Nevra and Miiko, just so they can callhim up immediately and ask “Where thehell is he?!”

Still, there is another option that might save Chrome’s career in foodservice: Ykhar has noticed he’s a dab hand with the coffee machines, whippingup an excellent mocha Frappuccino, festooned with dark chocolate chips, forhimself (or Karenn…) every time it’s a slow day at the café. In a pinch, he canbe the next baristo, even though he’s a bit mouthy, and can’t stomach any caffeinewithout bouncing off the walls. Just to be on the safe side, they’re delaying arecommendation until after Ezarel leaves a vacancy. The older baristo likes toleave dog treats on a plate with Chrome’s name on it.

Ewelein, the On-Call Doctor

She’s a regular customer whoworks as a physician in the public hospital a few blocks away, and took aliking to the little café because it a.) is less crowded than the hospitalcafé, b.) serves decent sugar-free, non-fat cinnamon cappuccinos for a good price,and d.) has a comfortable chair by the ferns that just agrees with her. Granted,there’s that obnoxious head waiter who likes to hit on her on principle, and awaitress who drops or misplaces every other tray handed to her, but Ewelein haslearned to tactically ward them off with a raised book and a dry expressionwhenever they approach her table.

But to her consternation, thequiet breaks she’s supposed to spend in the café– catching up on a book andworking on her botanical scrapbook collection—became consultation visits afterthe day she gave a Heimlich to another customer choking on a bagel. So fromthen on, she became their resident Florence Nightingale, beset by otherregulars with questions about blood pressure, diabetes, whether coffee is reallya calcium-drain for menopausal women, what side-effects are there for childrenwho consume high amounts of caffeine daily, etc. In the end, just so she could start on her coffee while it’s hot, Ewelein was forcedto draw up a free poster—certified by her hospital—for the café, detailing the top 10 caffeinemyths, and the top 10 little-known truths caffeine-addicts better know.

Despite the hassle, Ewelein still visits the café regularly for herlunch breaks. With that customer-saving Heimlich and then the free publichealth information poster, the café’s willing to offer her free cappuccinos,free meals, and major discounts for other coffees she picks up for hercolleagues, just to keep her nearby in case things really go wrong. Well, a free lunch is a free lunch.

Ashkore, the Vandal

A mysterious rogue from theinner city who wears a black dragon-print ski mask and loves to make lifemiserable for the denizens of Miiko’s café. His first declaration of war: helobbed a signed brick into the front window, shattering the glass and openingthe café to the other nighttime lunatics on the street.

Since then, someof his favorite tricks include graffiti on the café’s front, givingunflattering anonymous tip-offs to health inspectors, posting inflammatory fliers onthe windshields of customer and employee cars, slashing the tires of employeecars as well, stalking new hires until they quit within weeks, and pickinglocks to steal supplies straight from the back room, if he doesn’t take a crackat the register or the safe in Miiko’s office. Every time he breaks in, the manwho signs himself off as Ashkore likes to brew a cup of Turkish black coffeefor himself using their equipment and ingredients, drink it down, and leave thedrained cup on the counter as his calling card. With no payment, of course.

Speculation on who the bastard is has ranged from amercenary lout paid by a dogged rival café, to one of the café’s manydisgruntled ex-employees, to someone with a personal grudge against eitherMiiko, Leiftan, or one of the other regular staff-members of the café. Eitherway, Ashkore is canny enough to have evaded all police sicced on his trail, andValkyon with his baseball bat.

Miiko has since enacted a ‘We shall not be intimidated by terrorists!’policy: the café will remain standing, and all employees must virtuously ignorethe ‘little jackass’ tormenting them, while she, Leiftan, and Valkyon installsecurity cameras and bully the police into making routine sweeps along theirstreet. So far, none of it seems to discourage Ashkore. Now, he just cheerfullyflips off the cameras when breaking in.

This went waaaay further than I expected (asusual…). But AUs are just so much fun. :) And cafes are home to a lot of stories.

I also couldn’t resist adding each character’s preferred drink in eachentry. They need their caffeine (or ginseng shots) too.

Enjoy this quirky piece atthe next coffee shop you visit. :) And don’t forget to leave feedback (forhere, and/or that place you sip your lattes at).

#request #headcanon #Eldarya #Alajea #Ashkore #Chrome #Ewelein #Ezarel #Jamon #Karenn #Karuto #Kero #Leiftan #Miiko #Nevra #Valkyon #Ykhar

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monicawoe · 5 years ago

Text

Supernatural fic masterlist

(updated 12/20/2020)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric, largely featuring powers!Sam. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

Closer Than You Think - Five times Sam’s eyes were demonic, and one time they weren’t. (3k words, boyKingSam AUs of multiple eps)

Sin Eater - Sam has a different plan to cure demon Dean, but Dean doesn't want to be cured. (Sam drinking blood from demon!Dean, written for @quickreaver for her artwork Bitumen Kiss)

All You Have Is Your Fire - written for @quickreaver for the 2020 Supernatural Spring Fling Dean has known fire all his life. Sometimes it sounds like his brother. (~2k words; gen)

Many more under the cut

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

#sam winchester #spn fics #king of hell sam #dean winchester #monicawoe's fics

31 notes · View notes

monicawoe · 5 years ago

Text

supernatural fic masterlist

(updated 11/15/2020)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric, largely featuring powers!Sam. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

Sin Eater - Sam has a different plan to cure demon Dean, but Dean doesn't want to be cured. (Sam drinking blood from demon!Dean, written for @quickreaver for her artwork Bitumen Kiss)

All You Have Is Your Fire - written for @quickreaver for the 2020 Supernatural Spring Fling Dean has known fire all his life. Sometimes it sounds like his brother. (~2k words; gen)

Many more under the cut

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

#sam winchester #demon blood sam #powers!sam #spn fic #king of hell sam #dean winchester #monicawoe's fics #spn fanart

21 notes · View notes

monicawoe · 5 years ago

Text

Supernatural fic masterlist

(updated 5/23/2020)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

All You Have Is Your Fire - written for @quickreaver for the 2020 Supernatural Spring Fling Dean has known fire all his life. Sometimes it sounds like his brother. (~2k words; gen)

Many more under the cut:

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

#sam winchester #king of hell sam winchester #sam winchester's demonic powers #monicawoe's fics #spn fics #spn art

10 notes · View notes

monicawoe · 5 years ago

Text

supernatural fic masterlist

(updated 4/4/2020)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

All You Have Is Your Fire - written for @quickreaver for the 2020 Supernatural Spring Fling Dean has known fire all his life. Sometimes it sounds like his brother. (~2k words; gen)

Some other favorites, in no particular order:

Many more under the cut:

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

#sam winchester #dean winchester #spn fics #spn art #sam winchester's demonic powers #king of hell Sam

16 notes · View notes

monicawoe · 5 years ago

Text

Spn fic masterlist

(updated 3/17/2020)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

Some other favorites, in no particular order:

Many more under the cut:

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

#sam winchester #king of hell sam #demon blood sam #sam/brady #sam/ruby #spn fics #monicawoe's fics

6 notes · View notes

monicawoe · 5 years ago

Text

spn masterlist

(updated 2/29/2020)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

Some other favorites, in no particular order:

Many more under the cut:

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

#sam winchester #dean winchester #king of hell sam #boy king sam #spn fics #monicawoe's fics

5 notes · View notes