Hey, guys. This is a sadstuck fic, and I'm definitely going to continue it. Just something as an in-between for supernaturalstuck. Comments are appreciated!

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…

Wake up.

You fade slowly into consciousness, although it seems you can't move quite yet.

You're not really aware of your body, and yet you know it's there, like you're an outsider looking at it. Though you can't actually see.

You briefly attempt to describe this feeling, as it may come in handy once you regain full consciousness.

It's kind of like you're in a big pot of inky soup, warm and comfortable. You're connected to the outside by a single thread of string looped around your waist, and every tug on it brings you closer up, until-

FUUUUUUUUCK.

Pain. That's all you can feel. You desperately try to dive back into the soup pot but it's empty and it just hurts as the string breaks and you hit the bottom. Now you're trapped inside your body that you still can't move, with an unbearable amount of pain that doesn't seem to want to ebb away.

You lie there, internally screaming for what feels like forever until suddenly you feel something. Something soft and feathery underneath your fingers… You latch onto that feeling and suddenly your world explodes with enough sensation to give you a headache on top of your horrible pain.

You groan, and your vocal cords feel rusty, unused. You let out an unhindered, much-needed scream that sounds more like a bird than a human. You pant for a moment as you attempt to ignore the pain and sit up. You blink open your eyes a second time and everything's tinted in black and red and fractured a bit at the edges. You're in a small field of grass, nowhere that you recognize. The sun is shining and it seems hella bright yet very dim at the same time.

You look at yourself and you don't see anything wrong except the black thing on your chest. You shrug, standing up. You feel something behind you, but you don't seem to question it as you stride forward.

Stride.

That word sparks something, but you can't quite catch it as you chase it back to its mousehole inside your brain.

You're a very descriptive person, apparently. Maybe you're a writer.

You spot a small river-lake thing that seems still enough to look at your reflection in. Maybe if you look at yourself you can remember who you are. You walk over to it, and whatever's behind you seems to follow you but when you turn around there's nothing there.

You kneel beside the river and you were right, it's very calm. You look at yourself and a series of words fly through your mind.

Handsome-beautiful-wait-wings-what-oh god-what am I-hideous-horrible-monster.

You're absolutely horrifying, and you know somehow that this isn't you.

You notice immediately the black thing on your chest isn't on it, it's in it - a long, black-handled katana running straight through your chest, just under your sternum.

You have inky black hair, and aviators with a gear design painted on them in what you assume is blood. That's why your vision is warped and tinted. You realize that you're wearing - no, it's stitched onto your face - a harlequin-like mask with a long white beak, painted-on mouth stitched over with red thread. Black feathers sprout up from your shirt collar, and huge raven's wings hover weightlessly behind you. That's what you felt.

You lean over further to see that your torso and legs are two halves sewn together, fresh blood dripping from the badly stitched seams, the same thick red thread on your mask. Your hands are huge bird's talons, and a dark grey color ringed with black feathers. Your clothes are alternating black and white, and you can't help but feel it's a mockery of who you once were.

You get the automatic feeling you shouldn't be doing whatever it is you're doing right now, but you have no idea what it is besides living, breathing, and bleeding. As you stare into your reflection, you watch as blood drips from underneath your shades and into the water.