Castiel/Cas/Anubis/Jackal

Hey, I don't have anything ready for Halloween, so I decided to post a warm up I did here since I make a lot of 'em when I need to get ready to write big stuff. I hope y'all have a spooky Halloween and stay safe.
          
          Anyway, take a serial killer being in love with a streamer.
          
          -
          
          'I saw God again today...' 
          
          The book splattered in blood on the table is messy and askew as he works tirelessly on the mess in the barn. The blood on his hands an act of servitude to the god he prays for. His God who lives in the electricity, Wi-Fi, and data. Letting the world see him in intimacy and glee in equal measures. His God is love, and he loves God. That is his reality and he will heed.
          
          He's finished with his work.
          
          Ian is a man he doesn't even pity. A corrupt cop. A pig. Only fitting that he and his family meet their end in the barn on their homestead. He tries to avoid killing people that aren't the corrupt and sinful, but they saw him. They died swiftly, but Ian...no, no, he couldn't. Ian was a man who deserved so much worse, so he gives him a fate horrible enough to make everyone know what he was. Ian the Pig. Trash and scum in every way. That's the fate he gets. 
          
          "God damn it!" His God whines in that voice that makes his heart race as he looks at the phone propped up, displaying him. The music showing he'd met his end yet again. The God grumbles before restarting and listening to the crow instruct him on how to farm. He doesn't pay attention to the game rather his deity, which snickers at some comment. Holy and beautiful in a way that flood his mouth with drool that runs down his chin. It distracts him from his work, but the belly is stitched back up. He can hear Ian try to thrash and scream. He'll suffocate in there and the ending will be set in marble. Right now, his focus is purely on the God talking. "No, no, I hear all of you. This game is just time management and my ADHD is ruining that. I'm trying. This is just...oh fuck, was that the sound cue?"

Hello, I'm alive, going through so many life crises that I'm about to gnaw drywall, but I am working on shit. I'm working slowly because of crisis after crisis and I can't promise when I'll be done, but I want you all to know I'm alive. 
          
          Here's a small sneakpeek just to let you know I am cooking once again. 
          
          -
          “Would Jonathan have given you up?” Kars asks, catching you off guard as the pillar man tilts his head to the side as you feel trapped under a microscope. “That was his name? I would hate for Esidisi to have told me the wrong thing.” 
          
          “...you don’t know a damn thing about that.” Is what you say as your eyes narrowed as Kars looked at you. This was bullshit. That isn’t his lane. He needs to stay out of it. “Or better yet, you don’t know a damn thing about me.” 
          
          “And what about Jonathan?” Kars watched you like a hawk and you stiffen up at his words. “Did he know you? Did he ever know anything about you?” 
          
          “...” You blink and suddenly you’re on top of him. Obviously you know you tackled him, that your hands are on his throat, but you don’t remember doing it. You’re just on top of him. Your claws ready to tear open his throat and ready for you to break the vow you made Santana. "Keep his name out of your fucking mouth."
          
          There’s nothing else there.
          
          Lips curling into a grin because this is how it was supposed to end…right? 
          
          No, it’s fucking not. 
          
          Ha, yeah right. 
          -
          
          Hopefully, this won't take eighty years. Love you all. Thanks for putting up with me still~!

I'M LIVING FOR YOUR JJBA FF<333 IT'S SO GREAT. I LOVE IT SM

BRO I LOVE YOUR JJBA FF SO MUCH. ITS SO AMAZING WORDS CANT EXPRESS HOW MUCH I LOVE IT. IT MADE ME CRY AND SHT BRO I LOVE IT

@Danika-Seiko, doing good. Busy with finals, working on the next chapter of my Jjba fic. Nothing much.

I've decided that I'm being far too nice to Jonathan in my JJBA story, like I give Dio massive head trauma and force him to change and deal with shit, but Jonathan gets put on the backburner because he's mentally stable and a naturally good person. Chapter five will be time to hurt Jonathan and the reader in a two for one deal.

Okay, progress report since I planned on this chapter being uploaded on Halloween and that obviously didn't go according to plan so I'm working on chapter three of the Queen's Cat currently I'm just about done with the party at the Viscount's manor we're at roughly nineteen thousand words and I just finished a sex scene so it's going good, but since I'm hoping to finish the Jack the Ripper Arc this chapter will either be way too fucking long or I'll stop and the arc will be four chapters long. Honestly I might just try to do a bunch of these chapters in a row because I'm inspired as fuck right now for Black Butler.

Okay, so does stand fucking, more specifically having sexual interactions with your own stand since we know I won't not have stand fucking in my stories, require any unique warnings? I don't want to slam something upsetting in front of anyone with no warning.

Okay, so this is just me being a sentimental fool but thanks to everyone who reads my shit. I just turned nineteen and got accepted into college and I'm just being way too sentimental right now. Anyway in more important news I am working on The Queen's Cat, and here's a short sample for all of you. 
          You're dreaming again. 
          You can tell cause you're falling. 
          It was fitting; since most would assume that you had claimed to be Icarus. In reality such a thing was tied back to you by nobles that claimed to take interest in more 'pagan' religions as a way to constantly remind you of your own audacity of rising above a station that you had been born into and should've stayed till death. You were destined to fall in other's minds because you constantly reached higher and higher aiming for things that no one else could reach. But, wasn't that the point of it all? Being trapped but craving the light of another wishing you could just reach it once, and when you were finally free you tried to gain the attention and favor of another...But that was also the difference between you and Icarus; he fell because he aimed for something with the wrong tools and a lack of understanding. Or maybe in a darker twist of faith he knew that he would plummet, after all he was told as such by a loved one, and just wanted one last try before his death. To know that he would fall, to then accept it, well it was freeing. To know that death was there and chase it for the thrill and momentary joy. He must've been happy before he died, you couldn't help but feel jealous. 
          In other words dream sequences and introspection are fun to write. Hope you all stay safe out there .

In Fnaf there is a book where a time travelling ball pit is introduced used to traumatize a kid by showing him a murder and then a trapped memory, maybe, of William Afton in the Spring Bonnie suit decides to be said kid's dad while everyone else sees him as the aforementioned parent till the kid has a dramatic fight and then the rabbit hangs itself and dies. (Actually its one short story in a series of books that each holds 3 short stories.) So we're having some Fnaf. 
          Here's a short sample;
          You fumble with the lighter for too damn long, you're more focused on keeping your hands steady enough to hold the Newport between your fingers, and even then you don't succeed at getting it out of your pocket. 
          "Fuck...could you give me a light?" You ask, and awkwardly gestured. 
          He's nicer than most since he shoves himself far enough off the wall and leans around to shuffle through the back pocket of his jeans, and offers you a rainbow colored lighter. You give him an odd look but slot the cigarette in between your teeth and lean down to catch the spark off the mouth of the lighter. He shrugs, draws out a tiny ember of flame on the first flick, and pockets it again. The two of you stay like that for a long time, watching the stop lights flicker and change color for traffic that doesn't exist at this time of night.
          You watch him check his phone, wave down a tiny Prius that had stopped at the intersection. As it pulls up, it must be his ride, he looks back to you with a raised brow. 
          “Hey, by the way, so you actually go here, right?" 
          You grin, spit out the dying butt of your cigarette before crushing it under your boot, and then walked back the way they had come.