SPN Fanfic: Behind the Glass Wall
In the interest of getting things cleared up and giving my plot-bunnies a chance to get de-traumatised I will likely be firing off some weird, lame and random crap. Probably not weird haha either. Just... weird.
Like this. I don't even know what to class this as. Not mirrored, LJ only.
Title: Behind the Glass Wall
Warnings: SPOILERS FOR 3X15. Anthropomorphism, sort of. Might be classed as really really dull crack. No idea. May make no sense to anyone but me.
Characters: ... Bela's Cat.
Word Count: 950-ish words
Disclaimer: Kripke gave her a cat. I had to make sure he was okay.
Rating: GEN, PG
Summary: Kind of a missing scene for 3X15? Just something I needed to close off. Combined with a kind of weird idea I had about cats and invisible things. *shrug*
Behind the Glass Wall
by CaffieneKitty
Amenti Behosephat Jones was not a stupid cat. His human had begun to smell of sulfur, and in the farback of his memory, where there was sun and sand and stone homes that were pointed on top like claws trying to scratch the sky, something told him that humans smelling of sulfur was not a good thing. His human had been playing with something vile. Or something vile had been playing with her.
There was also the dog. Whenever Amenti's human was home in the past several days, it appeared behind the glass wall. There were usually pigeons to plot the demise of, or that yappydog to threaten (and plot the demise of) behind that glass wall. Not anymore. This dog kept them all away, and was much less entertaining.
Something was very not-right about the dog. Several things.
For one, the not-right dog never ever barked; a very unusual thing, and much worth noting to Amenti. Dogs barked. Dry crunchy food was vastly disappointing. The things his human brought home reeked either in his nose or in his brain. It was a fact. Dogs barked. This one didn't. Never made a single sound, therefore it was notable.
For two, it was ugly. All dogs were loud, loathsome beasts and by their very nature ugly, but this one was exceptional in its repulsiveness. Nothing about it was sleek, smooth, or elegant. It offended Amenti's senses more than any dog he had experienced, now, or in his farback memories.
For three, when he'd hissed at the not-right dog the first time it had appeared, the dog had swung its enormous not-right head to look at him for a second, and then went back to studying the human. The dog's gaze had left Amenti chilled and shaken. He'd had to wash for a very long time before his fur stopped standing on end. A dog behind the glass wall was not something to be feared. Usually. But this one was not-right. Even so, Amenti didn't fear it. It's exceptional ugliness had disrupted Amenti's composure. Momentarily.
Aside from that, this dog did nothing but stare at Amenti's human, its not-right eyes following her around the room, like it was waiting to be fed a tasty treat. Amenti commenced ignoring the not-right dog once he realized this.
Begging was so crass.
His human seemed to never see it, not even when she was closing the curtains at night, her belly a tail-span away from the glass wall with the not-right dog behind it, staring in from the dark silently. However, Amenti's human didn't seem to see the translucent humans and other things she sometimes invited into Amenti's domain either, even though she talked to them and sometimes brought other humans to talk with them. It was not a tremendous surprise then that she did not see the not-right dog. But humans are stupid. Deaf in the nose and blind in the brain. All cats know this.
She had started weeping into Amenti's fur sometimes, shortly before the dog had arrived behind the glass wall. That as much as the sulfur-stench told Amenti it was only a matter of time before she left and didn't return. He wouldn't starve if she left completely; the humans who came to escort the noisy-beast-machine around the apartment filled his bowl and took care of the unpleasantly necessary tasks. His human was away longer and longer, and every time she returned she smelled fouler and fouler, and brought home viler-smelling things than she ever had before. Still, she was his human. He would miss her when she left forever.
One day as she was leaving, pressing her little noise box to her ear, she gathered the smellyherbs from the several places they were secreted in his apartment. Something told Amenti this was the last time he'd see his human. He followed her around the rooms, quietly, sitting to stare at her. Not at all like the enormous not-right dog behind the glass wall was staring at her. It had started to drool that morning, thick ropy gobbets oozing down its not-right muzzle, never falling. Dogs. Vile creatures.
For the most part as Amenti followed his human around the rooms, she had ignored him, speaking to her little noisy box and clutching the smellyherb bundles that had no hope of covering her own growing sulfur stench. Not in Amenti's nose.
Before she left, she bent to run her sulfur-smelling hands over him, scratching his head, easing his collar. She murmured several things, repeating a sound that he associated with a human who visited occasionally.
He liked that human, as far as he liked any human that wasn't his. When she came to visit, she brought treats for him, as well as her enchanting (and unfortunately translucent) grey Persian owner. Amenti's human helped them talk to each other. He wouldn't mind seeing that human or her feline owner again. They'd come and bring treats after his human was gone. Maybe they would take him with them, to a home that smelled less like sulfur and things that made his memories itch.
Amenti would miss his human. But, like dogs barking, it was a fact that humans don't always land on their feet. Not even his human. Sad.
He rubbed against her hand in farewell, even though he'd be licking the disgusting sulfur smell off himself for hours. His human stood and left then, without a backward glance, door drifting shut with a quiet 'snick'. Very cat of her. Amenti approved. He sauntered back to the glass wall and sat to stare out at the offensive dog behind his glass wall, narrowing his eyes and tapping his tail back and forth on his carpet.
The not-right dog bared its fangs silently at Amenti, and then between one eyeblink and the next, left too.
Dogs. Amenti snorted and washed, then curled up in a sunny patch to wait for his translucent Persian friend and her human to arrive.
He didn't wait long.
- - -
(that's it.)
Like this. I don't even know what to class this as. Not mirrored, LJ only.
Title: Behind the Glass Wall
Warnings: SPOILERS FOR 3X15. Anthropomorphism, sort of. Might be classed as really really dull crack. No idea. May make no sense to anyone but me.
Characters: ... Bela's Cat.
Word Count: 950-ish words
Disclaimer: Kripke gave her a cat. I had to make sure he was okay.
Rating: GEN, PG
Summary: Kind of a missing scene for 3X15? Just something I needed to close off. Combined with a kind of weird idea I had about cats and invisible things. *shrug*
Behind the Glass Wall
by CaffieneKitty
Amenti Behosephat Jones was not a stupid cat. His human had begun to smell of sulfur, and in the farback of his memory, where there was sun and sand and stone homes that were pointed on top like claws trying to scratch the sky, something told him that humans smelling of sulfur was not a good thing. His human had been playing with something vile. Or something vile had been playing with her.
There was also the dog. Whenever Amenti's human was home in the past several days, it appeared behind the glass wall. There were usually pigeons to plot the demise of, or that yappydog to threaten (and plot the demise of) behind that glass wall. Not anymore. This dog kept them all away, and was much less entertaining.
Something was very not-right about the dog. Several things.
For one, the not-right dog never ever barked; a very unusual thing, and much worth noting to Amenti. Dogs barked. Dry crunchy food was vastly disappointing. The things his human brought home reeked either in his nose or in his brain. It was a fact. Dogs barked. This one didn't. Never made a single sound, therefore it was notable.
For two, it was ugly. All dogs were loud, loathsome beasts and by their very nature ugly, but this one was exceptional in its repulsiveness. Nothing about it was sleek, smooth, or elegant. It offended Amenti's senses more than any dog he had experienced, now, or in his farback memories.
For three, when he'd hissed at the not-right dog the first time it had appeared, the dog had swung its enormous not-right head to look at him for a second, and then went back to studying the human. The dog's gaze had left Amenti chilled and shaken. He'd had to wash for a very long time before his fur stopped standing on end. A dog behind the glass wall was not something to be feared. Usually. But this one was not-right. Even so, Amenti didn't fear it. It's exceptional ugliness had disrupted Amenti's composure. Momentarily.
Aside from that, this dog did nothing but stare at Amenti's human, its not-right eyes following her around the room, like it was waiting to be fed a tasty treat. Amenti commenced ignoring the not-right dog once he realized this.
Begging was so crass.
His human seemed to never see it, not even when she was closing the curtains at night, her belly a tail-span away from the glass wall with the not-right dog behind it, staring in from the dark silently. However, Amenti's human didn't seem to see the translucent humans and other things she sometimes invited into Amenti's domain either, even though she talked to them and sometimes brought other humans to talk with them. It was not a tremendous surprise then that she did not see the not-right dog. But humans are stupid. Deaf in the nose and blind in the brain. All cats know this.
She had started weeping into Amenti's fur sometimes, shortly before the dog had arrived behind the glass wall. That as much as the sulfur-stench told Amenti it was only a matter of time before she left and didn't return. He wouldn't starve if she left completely; the humans who came to escort the noisy-beast-machine around the apartment filled his bowl and took care of the unpleasantly necessary tasks. His human was away longer and longer, and every time she returned she smelled fouler and fouler, and brought home viler-smelling things than she ever had before. Still, she was his human. He would miss her when she left forever.
One day as she was leaving, pressing her little noise box to her ear, she gathered the smellyherbs from the several places they were secreted in his apartment. Something told Amenti this was the last time he'd see his human. He followed her around the rooms, quietly, sitting to stare at her. Not at all like the enormous not-right dog behind the glass wall was staring at her. It had started to drool that morning, thick ropy gobbets oozing down its not-right muzzle, never falling. Dogs. Vile creatures.
For the most part as Amenti followed his human around the rooms, she had ignored him, speaking to her little noisy box and clutching the smellyherb bundles that had no hope of covering her own growing sulfur stench. Not in Amenti's nose.
Before she left, she bent to run her sulfur-smelling hands over him, scratching his head, easing his collar. She murmured several things, repeating a sound that he associated with a human who visited occasionally.
He liked that human, as far as he liked any human that wasn't his. When she came to visit, she brought treats for him, as well as her enchanting (and unfortunately translucent) grey Persian owner. Amenti's human helped them talk to each other. He wouldn't mind seeing that human or her feline owner again. They'd come and bring treats after his human was gone. Maybe they would take him with them, to a home that smelled less like sulfur and things that made his memories itch.
Amenti would miss his human. But, like dogs barking, it was a fact that humans don't always land on their feet. Not even his human. Sad.
He rubbed against her hand in farewell, even though he'd be licking the disgusting sulfur smell off himself for hours. His human stood and left then, without a backward glance, door drifting shut with a quiet 'snick'. Very cat of her. Amenti approved. He sauntered back to the glass wall and sat to stare out at the offensive dog behind his glass wall, narrowing his eyes and tapping his tail back and forth on his carpet.
The not-right dog bared its fangs silently at Amenti, and then between one eyeblink and the next, left too.
Dogs. Amenti snorted and washed, then curled up in a sunny patch to wait for his translucent Persian friend and her human to arrive.
He didn't wait long.
- - -
(that's it.)