headless corpse


He had wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and sworn to protect her, but that was as cruel a jape as the crown the Freys had placed atop the head of Robb Stark’s direwolf after they’d sewn it onto his headless corpse. Sansa knew that as well. The way she looked at him, her stiffness when she climbed into their bed… when he was with her, never for an instant could he forget who he was, or what he was. No more than she did. She still went nightly to the godswood to pray, and Tyrion wondered if she were praying for his death. She had lost her home, her place in the world, and everyone she had ever loved or trusted. Winter is coming, warned the Stark words, and truly it had come for them with a vengeance. But it is high summer for House Lannister. So why am I so bloody cold?

ohnowhatreyoudoing  asked:

I'm not sure if you've been asked this and divert me to that ask, but what is the purpose of Dany seeing the vision of Robb at the Red Wedding in The House of the Undying Ones? It really doesn't affect her at all, unless if she meets Jon and they discuss it somehow. Unless it was a way for GRRM to do some foreshadowing to the reader, it doesn't do anything for Danys story.

Dany’s vision of the Red Wedding in the House of the Undying could indeed be a way of making her more personally sympathetic to the Starks and to Jon, once she actually hears about the Red Wedding of course. Especially since at the moment, Dany has no sympathy to the Starks whatsoever, and refers to them as “the Usurper’s dogs” per her lessons from Viserys.

But yes, that vision does probably exist for Doylist reasons, as foreshadowing. It’s like the Ghost of High Heart’s prophecies, like Patchface’s prophecies – those characters who hear them don’t do anything about them and have no idea what they mean. (Those who overhear Patchface’s rhymes don’t even realize he’s a prophet.) They’re strictly for the reader to puzzle over.

However, for a more Watsonian approach, some believe that the Red Wedding was such a traumatic event on a spiritual level, on a meta level, that it tore open the astral plane (to borrow a phrase from Marvel comics), bouncing back echoes of its horror into the past, for anyone with any psychic sensitivity to pick up. And so we have the Undying:

Farther on she came upon a feast of corpses. Savagely slaughtered, the feasters lay strewn across overturned chairs and hacked trestle tables, asprawl in pools of congealing blood. Some had lost limbs, even heads. Severed hands clutched bloody cups, wooden spoons, roast fowl, heels of bread. In a throne above them sat a dead man with the head of a wolf. He wore an iron crown and held a leg of lamb in one hand as a king might hold a scepter, and his eyes followed Dany with mute appeal.  –ACOK, Daenerys IV 


When the fool saw Davos, he jerked to a sudden halt, the bells on his antlered tin helmet going ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling. Hopping from one foot to the other, he sang, “Fool’s blood, king’s blood, blood on the maiden’s thigh, but chains for the guests and chains for the bridegroom, aye aye aye.” –ASOS, Davos II

The Ghost of High Heart:

“I dreamt of a roaring river and a woman that was a fish. Dead she drifted, with red tears on her cheeks, but when her eyes did open, oh, I woke from terror.” –ASOS, Arya IV

“I dreamt a wolf howling in the rain, but no one heard his grief,” the dwarf woman was saying. “I dreamt such a clangor I thought my head might burst, drums and horns and pipes and screams, but the saddest sound was the little bells.” –ASOS, Arya VIII

Bran (though note his vision may have occurred not before, but at the moment the Red Wedding happened):

The dream he’d had… the dream Summer had had… No, I mustn’t think about that dream. He had not even told the Reeds, though Meera at least seemed to sense that something was wrong. If he never talked of it maybe he could forget he ever dreamed it, and then it wouldn’t have happened and Robb and Grey Wind would still be… –ASOS, Bran IV

And even Theon:

That night he dreamed of the feast Ned Stark had thrown when King Robert came to Winterfell. The hall rang with music and laughter, though the cold winds were rising outside. At first it was all wine and roast meat, and Theon was making japes and eyeing the serving girls and having himself a fine time… until he noticed that the room was growing darker. The music did not seem so jolly then; he heard discords and strange silences, and notes that hung in the air bleeding. Suddenly the wine turned bitter in his mouth, and when he looked up from his cup he saw that he was dining with the dead.
King Robert sat with his guts spilling out on the table from the great gash in his belly, and Lord Eddard was headless beside him. Corpses lined the benches below, grey-brown flesh sloughing off their bones as they raised their cups to toast, worms crawling in and out of the holes that were their eyes. He knew them, every one; Jory Cassel and Fat Tom, Porther and Cayn and Hullen the master of horse, and all the others who had ridden south to King’s Landing never to return. Mikken and Chayle sat together, one dripping blood and the other water. Benfred Tallhart and his Wild Hares filled most of a table. The miller’s wife was there as well, and Farlen, even the wildling Theon had killed in the wolfswood the day he had saved Bran’s life.
But there were others with faces he had never known in life, faces he had seen only in stone. The slim, sad girl who wore a crown of pale blue roses and a white gown spattered with gore could only be Lyanna. Her brother Brandon stood beside her, and their father Lord Rickard just behind. Along the walls figures half-seen moved through the shadows, pale shades with long grim faces. The sight of them sent fear shivering through Theon sharp as a knife. And then the tall doors opened with a crash, and a freezing gale blew down the hall, and Robb came walking out of the night. Grey Wind stalked beside, eyes burning, and man and wolf alike bled from half a hundred savage wounds. 

–ACOK, Theon V

(Note some believe Melisandre must have also observed something in her flames, thus her leeches ritual to establish her credibility as a magical practitioner to Stannis.)

But the fact that so many pick up images of the Red Wedding before it happens means it can’t just be foreshadowing. There’s a purpose to it. Perhaps it’s to establish the sheer blasphemy of that massacre and the violation of guest right that made the Freys pariahs, cursed by gods and men. Perhaps it’s to establish that prophecies and dreams are true, for all that the dosh khaleen’s apparently failed prophecy about Rhaego seemed to prove otherwise. And perhaps it is indeed to show that there’s a higher level of thought, a collective unconscious, that can be affected by earthly deeds and affect those more sensitive to that plane.

I really couldn’t say for sure. But what ever it might be, it’s still fascinating to me…

Edmund Kemper is a seriously underrated human being. Okay, he committed heinous crimes and raped his mothers headless corpse BUT he also went on camera and urged people who were watching to seek help for their violent thoughts and he recognizes he should never be let out of prison. Oh, and he reads books for the blind and acts as an unpaid tutor for inmates who cant read or write.

Im in no way saying Ed is a good person, or that we should overlook what hes done. But hes a rarity among his kind, and hes smart enough to realise the danger he poses. Unlike Ted or Richie or even Jeff, Ed Kemper has used his circumstances to help others and further research. He gets nowhere near the amount of recognition he deserves, imo.

-But Fear Itself


The Castle is always a little creepy when the students are on holiday for the week. All the hallways are empty for the most part, with only paintings and spirits to keep you company while you do maintenance. It’s hard to explain though because I know all the ghosts on a first name basis, so there really isn’t that aspect of mystery that usually comes with being creeped out.

Like, yeah it’s scary when a headless corpse comes flying out of the wall, but afterwards he usually stops to ask me how the family is doing and chat about the weather.

LEBANON. July 2006.

Abbas, a chubby young boy, sat on the side of a narrow village road, held his injured mother’s hand and wept. “Don’t leave me, mother, don’t go, don’t go.” “Take care of your brothers and sisters,“ the mother moaned softly, as her eyes closed leaving two white slits. A piece of shrapnel had cut into her chest and almost severed her right arm. Blood stained mother and child.

Abbas, his mother, brother, aunts and a grandmother, 18 in total, were cramped inside a small white minivan, fleeing their village in south Lebanon when an Israeli rocket pierced the roof of the car. Now the survivors were scattered on the road or in the shadow of a building crying, while inside the van lay the headless corpse of an uncle, a dead grandmother and a neighbor.

“Why are you leaving me,” Abbas started yelling at his mother, as her arm fell on the ground. He buried his face in his hands and wept. His brother, 12-year old Ali, stood on the other side of the mother, his hand bandaged and eyes staring into the horizon, as the Lebanese Red Cross started helping the survivors.

Photograph: Ghaith Abdul-Ahad/Getty Images

Commish for @jamie-jim-jam who requested some hurt/comfort.

Want a commish? Hit me up!

“Incoming, Hog.”

The biker snorted and glanced over his shoulder. Off in the distance, distorted by the bikes dust trail, black spots were drawing near.

“Hang on.” he grunted, and twisted the throttle. The bike roared like a demon and ate the ground, leaving the potential threats in the dust.

Or so they thought.

Junkrat yelped and nearly pitched out of the sidecar as Roadhog screetched to a halt.

“OI! Hoggy, whats the idea?!”

“Tire spikes.”

He’d barely seen the glint of wicked spikes in time. Stretching across the road and a good distance to the side, gleaming thorns of metal bristled.

And the ambush was sprung.

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Mistake (Sister! Winchester)

“Imagine being the little sister of Sam and Dean. One night you sneak out to hunt down a vampire that killed your friend, but one vampire turns into an entire nest.”

Anon Requested: “Can you make an imagine where Sam & Dean have a little sister and she sneaks out to hunt vampires in the middle of the night.”

A/N: I had some fun with this one, I hope you guys enjoy it! 

Warnings: Blood, IV needles, Violence, Vampire Murders.

Maps and building blueprints littered the screen of your laptop. Your leaned forward, trying to tell if the blueprint you looked at matched the building on the map. Sighing, you leaned back into the chair. Your oldest brother walked over with an entire pie in hand. He held it towards you, that toothy grin of his on face. “Want some?”

“Nah, its all yours.”

He let out a small chuckle and grabbed a beer from the fridge, plopping down on the couch. Your eyes moved to Sam, he was busy doing most of the work as always. The case you all were working on as causing some hell, literally. Your eyes focused in on the building on your laptop screen, it matched all the details, it had to be the one. You smiled to yourself as you sent the building information to your phone and closed your laptop.


You looked up to Sam, just realizing that you had drowned them out when they were talking. “Uh yeah?”

“I know it’s a tough subject, but…” he leaned back in his seat, his big arms crossing over his chest as he wondered how to ask you. “How are you holding up with your friends death?”

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The corpse of Clarnell Strandberg - mother of serial killer Edmund Kemper - is wheeled out of the duplex she shared with her son in Santa Cruz, 1973.

Clarnell is thought to have suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder, which is supported by Edmund’s testimony of a horribly abusive parenting style and frequent arguments between mother and son. Clarnell would often taunt Edmund because of his shyness and sensitivity, and described him to her friends as a “real weirdo”. As he reached puberty Clarnell alienated him even more by locking Edmund in the basement at night because she feared he would molest his sisters.

After his discharge from Atascadero Hospital, Clarnell again began to abuse her son and refused to introduce him to the young women she met at her job at the nearby university campus. “She was holding these girls up as too good for me” Edmund later stated in an interview. Convinced he could not have a normal loving relationship, Kemper decided to embark on a murder spree instead, killing six young women in the space of a year.

On the night she died, Clarnell arrived home drunk from a party, and mocked Edmund when he tried to talk to her. “I suppose you want to stay up all night talking” were her last words to her son. Instead, Edmund caved in her skull with a claw hammer and decapitated her. After raping the headless corpse, he cut out his mothers larynx and attempted to destroy it in the garbage disposal (the machine spat the vocal cords back out in his face, which struck him as “poetic justice”). He also screamed at and threw darts at her severed head.

Despite the horrible way she treated him, Edmund claims to have genuinely loved his mother, and wept as he described her murder on camera.

Jadis aka Future Headless Corpse

So I was thinking about it and I realized that that scene with Rick, Michonne and Jadis may not be a throwaway weird moment. Like, Jadis now has confirmation of their relationship, and according to some comic spoilers I’ve read, Negan tried to get to Rick through Andrea. Jadis may give Negan the info on Richonne he needs to try to get at Rick in the war. And all of that culminates in Michonne decapitating that dusty trash bunny once and for all.

Apostles of the Apocalypse: Carl (Part Six)

Pairing: Daryl x Reader; Carl x Enid (sort of); Rick x Michonne

Word Count: 1774

Warning: Fluff, angst, canon-divergence

Notes: I feel like we are too far into this for me to apologise for every part. So here it is! It’s not as dramatic as the last part was but it’s still damn good if I do say so myself. Hope you all like it! Xox

Part Six of the Apostles of the Apocalypse series.

Now you have two choices. You say yes to me and Daryl goes free. Or you say no and he goes the same way as the rest of your fuckin’ friends! Five…”

Your eyes widened as you realised he was counting down.


Negan, please!” you begged, your eyes on Daryl’s bloody face.


Don’t do it,” Daryl pleaded. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t let him win. I ain’t worth it.”


Daryl…” you sobbed, your heart pounding as you looked between the two men. You had a single second to decide whether you saved the man you loved by betraying him or killed him by being faithful. You screamed as Negan lifted the bat.


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  • Pugsley: Decapitation has its virtues. Nice clean blow with a sharp blade.
  • Wednesday: The brain lives on for five, ten seconds at least. In theory, your headless corpse could be the last thing you see.
  • Joel: You're so negative.
  • Wednesday: I'm just telling you what I've heard.

Like a rookie connecting a 25% shot, I don’t know why writing these fics was a success, but I’m glad it happened. I guess I have an actual story on my hands now. Well, here’s the next vignette. Let’s hope my hands can keep up with my inspiration.

Alpha Team Firefight

The Viper opened her jaws, letting loose a loud hiss as she dodged a crackling black blade. Missing the stab, the Stun Lancer retracted to attempt an overhead swing, but Natasatch easily avoided the telegraphed move and wrapped her amber coils around her opponent. She forced him to his knees, a smug look plastered on her verpine face.

Seeing the Lancer’s backup hurrying forward, Natasatch sensed her position wouldn’t be ideal in the next few moments, so she needed this enemy dead, now. She turned to her closest human compatriot, calling “Assistance, please!”

“I got this!” Corporal Malcolm Silva responded. Nodding, She leaned herself back to expose the Stun Lancer’s torso more,  lined up a perfect shot at the immobile target and…

Trained the weapon several degrees to the side, and let loose a burst into a tree.

He audibly sighed over the comms. “Okay, I don’t got this.”  

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Apostles of the Apocalypse: Rick (Part Seven)

Pairing: Daryl x Reader; Sherry x Dwight (mentioned)

Word Count: 3692

Warnings: Angst, cursing, violence, character death?

Notes: If you guys were mad after Carl, BOY ARE YOU GONNA HATE ME AFTER RICK. I hope you all like it! ^^ Xox

Part Seven of the Apostles of the Apocalypse series.

All of them ran as fast as their legs would carry them. Maggie screamed and fell to her knees, sobbing as Jesus wrapped his arms around her, both of them staring horrified at Sasha’s headless corpse. Rick stood frozen, Carl and Michonne by his side, as they stared down at Daryl’s battered, lifeless body.

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A New Era: Revenge

A New Era: Revenge

-The following contains the death scene of Commander Tanya Davry, and the disfigurement of Rhiow Shadowclaw. The following contains darker themes and may not be suitable for some readers, please read with caution! 

Cat Got Your Tongue-

“I see Rhiow. How should I go ‘bout this?” Anthony asked over comm, his low voice ringing with a morbid vengeful curiosity. Olivia pursed her lips before responding, her voice sharing the same tone, only a tad more cautious. “We don’t know for a -fact- it was her–However, see what you can get out of her. Zel and I will be in the shadows waiting.” Both Olivia and Zel managed to get there in decent time and get in position for an attack if needed, as Anthony spoke with Rhiow. Rhiow stood with her snow-lavished locks draped from her scalp, moving with the slight wind as she spoke. Behind the woman to her right was her guard, with his arms crossed, looking over the area. Casual conversation went on, Anthony taking a calmer stance, one that usually showed no harm. “I know you told someone where our base was. -Who- and -why-?” Anthony demanded in a tone which did not betray his more sinister intentions for the druid should her response be that what is assumed. Rhiow looked frustrated, and perhaps a tad defeated as she admitted to offering the Crows the location of Chatterskull’s last base after Fallacy had taken her there. She explained in little detail her situation with the Crows, however, it mattered not, for her disloyalty had been apparent. Anthony nodded understandingly, and without a single word grabbed his throwing blade, and struck it into the throat of Rhiow’s guard. Gurgling came from the man as he fell to his knee’s, Zel within seconds moving behind him to begin dragging his body into the canals. As this occurred, before Rhiow could even react, Olivia shadow stepped behind Rhiow and plunged a sedative into her throat. The Kaldorei fell to her knees, as Olivia helped grab her and move her onto her back. Olivia sent two punches into the woman’s face, then quickly began moving on her act of revenge. A small blade separated the woman’s lips, entering her mouth, and in a quick motion, her tongue was severed clean off, blood suddenly filling and pouring from the woman’s lips. After placing Rhiow’s  tongue in her pouch, she took the blade and slowly carved “T R A I T O R.” into the woman’s arm, and added a small carving of a crow into her flesh. “Can we wake her up when you’re done? I want to say something.” Zel asked in a frustrated and angered tone. Olivia looked up and shook her head no, “We need to work quick–Use magics to speak to him.” Zel nodded. After the guard had fully sunk into the water, Zel bent down and moved her shadows into the woman’s mind. At that point Olivia had faded and joined Anthony. Anthony muttered into his comm. “You said there’s a hit on Davry as well?–Two birds with one stone.” He grabbed his comm and dispatcher said, “Help! There’s a woman injured in an alley-way, she’s missing her tongue, she’s bleeding out fast!” Zel, Anthony, and Olivia quickly went back into the shadows, awaiting their next back-to-back target, knowing that the sound of Anthony, would more than likely send the Commander running to arrest him.

Originally posted by creepysilencebaby

One Step Ahead-

“Holt and Tanya are comin’ up. Fenril is aiding Rhiow.” Anthony warned. The guard was a few mere feet away from them. They had to work quick. Coming into Old Town from the canals was Lord Cedrick Holt and Commander Tanya Davry. Olivia wasted no time. “Thun, get Cedrick down, and quick.” The Illidari quickly ran, forcing the noble on the ground blinding his view, as Olivia moved behind Tanya and sedated her. However, before the woman could fall limp onto the ground Anthony swooped her up and ran off towards Dwarven District. Olivia grabbed her comm and hummed. “Kat. Would you like to see yourself become Commander?” She snickered. Hawke was confused at first, not saying much, until she requested the location of her boss. Travel had passed, Tanya was eventually shackled by her wrists and ankles with anti-magic cuffs, within one of Olivia’s dungeons. Everyone eventually made their way inside. Olivia lowered her mask, setting her seafoam hues on the unconscious raven haired commander, who lay unconscious. Olivia turned to Kat. “Want the final blow?” She offered. Kat remained quiet, and shook her head, “I’m not even here.” She nodded. Olivia grabbed the blade, recalling Anthony’s past with Tanya she threw the blade at him. “Slit the slut’s throat.” She said coldly.  Anthony grasped Tanya’s hair, roughly pulling her hair back, the blade being placed against her neck. He’d crane his head to Olivia, offering a single nod to her. With a swift movement, the cut would be made, her throat opened, weeping crimson fluid over his blade. He wouldn’t stop there though, he’d use the blade as a saw, hacking away at bone, sinew, and flesh. The man would be -covered- in the life-giving fluid, standing up, the hand holding her hair pulling her head up, the headless corpse slumping to the floor  beneath him. He’d pause, placing it back down, the blade diving into her mouth, the tongue separated rather quickly. With a small throw, the knife would clatter to the floor as Anthony rose once more. With a calm gait, he’d find himself in front of  Olivia, tongue and head in hand. “Figured you’d like a memento for the record-books. One SI:7 commander’s tongue, along with a head.” He’d offer a grin, looking rather macabre in appearance. Olivia took the tongue, then looked at the head. “I’d like that, if you don’t mind, I’d like to send a message.” Olivia would look at Kat, and in an eerie, yet gleeful voice, “Congratulations on your promotion, Commander.” Before fading off.

Originally posted by xesoteric-extraterrestrialx

Thirty minutes later. Blood would be dripping from the roof of Guard Command. On the roof was the head of Commander Tanya Davry holstered with a pike through her skull, her crimson blood dripping down onto the command center below. Attached was a note, written in the woman’s blood, it read…

“A New Era..”

@anthony-rosethourne @cedrickholtstories @householt @shylris @rose-in-the-shadows @tanyadavry @thestormwindguard @the-royal-courier @the-royal-courier @demetrius-devereaux @predatororprey @whiskeyinthedusk @billyfelbane @vessrol @chatterskull @fenril @cainegrissome @percy-dewdancer
(Sorry if I forgot any!)

Glenn Rhee deserved so much better that this sort of mistreatment. I know that so many people are vocalizing their upset regarding his death, but this is an injustice that really should not be silenced. It is so critical, and I am so disappointed that I have to make this post. I never hoped that I would have to make it. But I absolutely, 100% do.

Glenn Rhee represented all that human decency should be. With or without functional civilization, Glenn retained the humanity that most of us would not be able to achieve given the end of the world. Glenn represented someone whose skills prior to the apocalypse seem unhelpful, but which ended up being invaluable to the group. Glenn Rhee represented the compassion and universal kindness that allowed his fellow group members to survive, to push forward, to hope for the better future that he believe in regardless of the misery and terror surrounding him.

Glenn Rhee never gave up on his family members. He stuck his neck out for Rick without even knowing who he was and put himself in danger to save him from the tank. He followed Rick to the bar to bring Hershel back and ended up in a shootout which very likely could have ended his story right then and there, but he was thinking of two girls who needed their father more than he cared about his own safety. He kept secrets for people and broke them because he wanted to protect them. He endured Merle’s beating to ensure Maggie’s survival. He saved Tara even though she was once loyal to the Governor, and even though she was faithful to the man who beheaded his father-in-law. He was willing to be ambushed to save his pregnant wife. He refused to allow Enid to go on suicide missions. He believed in Nicholas despite the man’s constant cowardice and betrayal.

Glenn Rhee protected and cared about his wife above all others. He was dutiful and caring and compassionate and a source of constant comfort throughout her tragedies. Even though he could have broken down given the circumstances, he remained strong to protect Maggie who watched her father murdered brutally, and who watched Daryl carry the lifeless corpse of her sister, whom she was told was alive and being rescued. Glenn Rhee loved his wife so much, and even in death, she and their baby were his only concerns.

Glenn Rhee did not deserve to die for the guilt and misery of another character. Glenn Rhee did not deserve to be reduced to a pathetic headless corpse while a less significant character got to die his comic book death, a brave white man soldier trope. Glenn Rhee did not deserve to serve as an example of consequences that he did not perpetrate. Glenn Rhee did not deserve to survive the entire apocalypse, and to be treated so poorly by the writers, to be reduced to a bloody pile of nothingness. Glenn Rhee did not deserve to be killed in this sort of brutal way when all that he ever stood for was the preservation of morality in a seemingly hopeless world. Glenn Rhee did not deserve to be murdered being the only Asian character on the show. Glenn Rhee did not deserve to die.

Glenn Rhee deserved to continue to develop into the leader who he always was despite being overshadowed by others. Glenn Rhee deserved to retain what little happiness he could cultivate with Maggie, the love of his life. Glenn Rhee deserved to become a father, and to gain joy in fatherhood with little baby Hershel. Glenn Rhee deserved to survive the apocalypse, to live in a neighborhood with Team Family, to deliver pizzas again while Maggie worked as a local politician. Glenn Rhee deserved to hold his little bundle of joy in his arms in safety, holding the hand of the woman whom he loved more than anything.

Glenn Rhee did not deserve to be reduced to the guilt and misery of others. Glenn Rhee did not deserve to be deprived of a backstory when he was a family member to us all for over six years.

Glenn Rhee did not deserve to die. That is the greatest injustice of them all.

Items Recovered From Ed Gein’s Farmhouse:

- The dressed and headless corpse of Bernice Worden, local store owner reported missing.

- Human organs in the refrigerator and on the stove.

- The skinned face of Mary Hogan, a barkeeper who had disappeared several years earlier.

- A belt made from female nipples.

- A bag of vulvas preserved in salt (nine of them, to be exact)

- Four noses.

- A set of chairs upholstered in human skin.

- The skinned faces of nine middle aged women.

- A lampshade upholstered in skin and decorated with a pair of female lips.

- Sawed off skulls on the bedpost.


Words: 4,078
Sam x Reader
Warnings: frightening scenarios, blood, disturbing imagery
Fic based on ‘Mess Is Mine’ by Vance Joy originally requested by anonymous!
A/N: Ohhhhhhhh boy… We’re really in it now. Prepared for CREEPINESS and ANGST. And Crowley. AND STUFF IS HAPPENING! And other stuff too. You’ll like it… I promise. I hope. ;)
This is part of a series! Read the other parts here! 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

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As soon as Dean and Cas came in through the bunker door Sam was yelling for them from the library.

”Dean! Dean!!” His voice was desperate and Dean and Cas both dropped the grocery bags in their arms and banged down the stairs as fast as they could.

”Sammy?” Dean whipped into the library, Cas on his heels. He saw Sam kneeling beside your prone body on the couch. There was a strange expression on your face. Sam had one of your hands in his and was clasping your face with the other.

”Y/N?” he called desperately to you. “Y/N? Come on, Y/N! Snap out of it! Y/N?”

Your eyes were wide open but it was obvious that they were unseeing. You didn’t seem to be conscious of anything that was happening around you. Your eyes moved as if they were focusing on things unseen.

Sam’s face was contorted with fear and tears were welling in his eyes. “Y/N!” He looked at Cas in desperation. “What’s happening? Cas…”

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