#junkdata

<View Mewssage History>

You decide to go back in after about half-past two, not at all surprised to find the place a dingy dark mess, especially outside the thin band of light allowed into the apartment from the opened hallway door.

The silhouette vanishes almost instantly, leaving the smuppet he’d been working on with a needle stuck in it’s plush nose lying across the keyboard of the still playing tunes.

Yup. Normal.

You opened the floodgates now, playing pin the tail on the cryptid and openly acknowledging your badly side-stepped elephants. Bro vanishing the second you enter the room isn’t that uncommon. Far too common, even if you can still feel the prickle of his attention between your wings, right at the back of your neck, meaning he’s paying attention to you. Probably up in the crawlspace.

He’d come down if you called, you know that. But he’d be grumpy as fuck if you didn’t have a good reason for it. The dude was jumpy at night.

Jumpy-er. 

In some ways the situation is not all that unfamiliar. It’s just stealth mode pushed up to 8 ¾ of the time. But just because you know he isn’t gonna ambush you as an exercise doesn’t mean your nerves entirely get it.

You think back to the message you answered before you left the roof.

TC: i dont s33 him around much if im honest

TC: as soon as he stopped n33din to hover to make sure i didnt end up fallin on my face he kinda went full cryptid

TC: until like a w33k ago

TC: now its only mostly cryptid

TC: anyway

TC: its weird

TC: i cant stand the silence so ill talk to myself to fill it and he cant stand being talked at unless hes in the right mood

TC: it works about as well as youd expect

TC: i f33l like i drive him into hiding sometimes

TC: straight up cant find the dude anywhere and he didnt fly the coop beclaws the keys are still there

TC: hes not much of a talker unless it’s quips and one liners or i push too far and you can guess i purrobably have and will push too far

TC: ive already pushed that glass right off the table n watched it shatter a couple times

TC: im online a lot recently beclaws i pestered him to the point where he snapped at me to go find a chatroom or somefang if i was so desperate to talk to someone

TC: there was a new pack of apple juice in the fridge later

TC: i think it was supposed to be an apawlogy

You know better than to chase him. If he was in the mood to be social he wouldn’t have flash stepped out of there like a cat outta hell. Plus it’s like. 2 am. Not that it means anything considering you are all but nocturnal and you aren’t sure he’s got any sleep schedule that isn’t pass out face first in a pile of smuppets when he can’t stay awake any longer.

He’s probably wondering why you’re just standing there in the middle of the kitchen. 

<View Mewssage History>

You aren’t sure you really want to talk about this, but you signed up for this shit for a reason. Because you don’t have Jade. You don’t have John. Equius. Terezi. Rose. Anyone who you’d actually feel comfortable broaching anything even close to these topics with. And it’s not like you can talk to Bro about it.

TC: i…

TC: not really

TC: he knows im not dave

TC: itd be kinda hard to miss considering i flipped the flock out the first and last time he called me dave

TC: he knows my name

TC: and that im techniclawly a two-fur-one deal via some weird anime fusion birdshit

TC: and that her name was nepeta and some sort of alien beclaws duh thats kinda obvious

TC: but thats about as far as weve really talked about that

TC: like i said he didnt really get the whole sprite thing and im not sure hes got the patience to make it worth bothering with an explanation

TC: he doesnt really care about game mechanics other than none of it s33ms to matter anymore

TC: checked in long enough to shoot down my dreambubble theory before checkin right back out again beclaws even if he died hes def not dead now and flock i dont think either of us woulda dreamed up some of the shit ive s33n online

TC: it makes too much sense and none at all so fur my own mental health ive decided to assume its real

TC: anyway

TC: i dont know what he calls me in his head

TC: but he hasnt called me dave since so i think its aight

There’s a prickle of feathers at the back of your neck and you stop typing, stop the clacking of your claws against the extra large keys of the phone that you were using to communicate with these people who know too damn much and nothing at all. Standing at attention. Like you are being observed.

You check the time, and it’s definitely a smidge past too damn late.

About the time you’d expect him to come check on you, if you’ll be honest. There isn’t much of a moon tonight, but you can see the shadow shift by the door, and wave a hand acknowledging that you did in fact notice. It’s gone when you blink, satisfied that you aren’t in fact dead up here.

You think he gets worried in his own way when you’re quiet for too long.

<View Mewssage History>

Between the wings and the horns and your coloring, you can’t leave the apartment. You know that. Whatever weird pocket dimension you fell in looks to be no different from the Earth you grew up on, aside from the fact that the niche that was Bro’s younger brother, Dave Strider, doesn’t seem to have existed. That means no trolls. No carapace. And especially no random bird people. There’s no reason to think someone wouldn’t take one look at you and go ‘what the fuck’ and lock you up in some lab somewhere.

That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the sanctity of your own roof.

TC: bro doesnt like me coming up here tbh

TC: someone could be across the str33t with a telescope spying on a poor lil catbirdtrollkid and call the government or somefang

TC: which would be a hassle if nofang else

TC: but

But you miss the wind. You miss the shade of the trees. You miss the light of the dual moons. You miss running with Pounce, your fingertips lightly touching the ground, claws digging into loose earth.

TC: betw33n the strider albinism and a nocturnal cave dwelling troll im purrty sure if i get into a fist fight with the sun id lose no contest

TC: shades are nonnegotiable during the day though unless i wanna burn my eyeballs out

TC: i dont think the sunll roast me like a turkey but i dont think i can regulate heat as well as i should so noon is kinda off limits but the bookends of the day are prime gargoyle time

TC: dawn and sunset are aight but theyve got some baggage to them

TC: i mostly like coming out here at night

<View Mewssage History>

TC: did you know that wild birds with compound fractures seldom fly again???

TC: i cant find a reliable statistic but thats furom wildlife rescues who actually kno what they are doin and not just usin some quick n dirty wooden dowels that bro found covered in dust in the attic and some tape

TC: i mean im not just a bird and magic sprite shit had to count for somefang in the beginning but

TC: it might still be too soon

TC: espurrcially since i would i n33d to throw myself off the building or at the very least furom the broadcast tower if i wanted to test it and idunno bout mew but im not quite ready to throw myself into metafurical sun again

TC: sides bro would purrobably kill me

You look out over the darkened cityscape. At the distant light of helicopters responding to some traffic accident. Listen to the sound of sirens in the night. The shadowed buildings are dotted with lights, some bright, some dim, but all evidence of other lives moving on around you.

Would it even be safe to fly here, even if you could? In the middle of a city of concrete and glass and lights that never truly sleeps? If you assume this shit is real, and not some dying fever dream as the black-hole stretched your final moments into an eternity, then you have to consider the consequences of flaunting your alien nature in a potentially mundane as hell city and all the lovely baggage that comes with it.

<View Mewssage History>

TC: not gonna sugar coat it it was purrty bad for a while

TC: bro bandaged the bites up and then stuffed me full of his freakishly endless supply of instant noodles and goldfish which thanks to sprite bullshit helped stop the leakage stabilize and start processing the damage

TC: i might as well have b33n a furreakin mummy there was no good way to deal with clothes that are clothes but were also a part of mew???

TC: at least hes had expurrience dressin wounds

TC: ...anyway

TC: the broken wing was the weirdest pawrt

TC: bro debated taking me to the vet for that but we both agr33d dr google would have to make a housecall instead

TC: the whole fang was awkward city

TC: it’s b33n thr33 years since--

TC: it still made me f33l like a kitten again

TC: not really in a good way either

TC: more in the mew cant control even the tiniest thing and have to rely on your lusus to do litterally everyfang way

TC: n even if bro was allergic to the merest chance of my busting a s33m its not like i could expect him to wait on me hand n paw

TC: not that he ever said anyfang about it

TC: its just

TC: complicated

The worst part wasn’t the injury, if you’re honest. 

You’d barely even felt that. Which actually was the problem.

For days you couldn’t feel much of anything at all. Or move, unless driven by pure undiluted panicked adrenaline shots. Or do more than just chill on the futon or your bed unless you annoyed Bro into moving you. For weeks, even if you made it to your feet, you would probably end up on the ground because you were wobblier than a baby deer without your wings to check your balance, and everything felt the slightest bit off.

Only one wing was broken. But the other might as well have been dead-weight regardless. Like something was short-circuiting your nervous system. Something you never did run into as Davesprite.

Then again, you’d never had a wound run black as Davesprite either.

<View Mewssage History>

TC: im not actually alone tbh

TC: bros always around somewhere

TC: hes just

TC: not the optimal interaction fur fillin the social n33d if you catch the updraft

TC: but im not s33in giant talking hopbeasts wanderin around so i guess im not in the red quite yet

TC: wing aside im f33lin much better meow dont worry B33c

TC: sprite healing meant food and time took care of most of it

Most of it.

The dry, night wind feels like it’s knifing through you.

Your side is starting to hurt.

Maybe you should go back inside.

You close your eyes, pushing it to the back of your mind.

<View Mewssage History>

TC: im not gonna question how you saw that

TC: or why yall seem to know so much in general

TC: game shit is weird so even game adjacent shit has to be weirder

TC: and it cant be pawrt of the game or i wouldnt be

TC: well

TC: like this???

TC: anyway

TC: yeah im feline

TC: it healed

TC: the bite itself did anyway

TC: im not in the mood for a p33p show here but ya gotta trust me my hide is spotless underneath this here fabric

TC: it still hurts though

TC: like a ghost pain

But that ghost pain feels really fierce when you think about it. At least it doesn’t stop you from moving anymore.

TC: thats one of the hypotheses ive thrown out there if im being honest

TC: lord english had those huge chonkin fangs and looked kinda snakey

TC: but youd think any venom woulda killed me by now or gotten filtered out

TC: its either venom or somefang wrong with my kernel sprite

TC: beclaws theres def somefang wrong with my kernel sprite

TC: could be both flock if i know

TC: any access i had to game shit faded within the first couple days i landed here

TC: im just glad i didnt completely fall apawrt mew know?

You almost did.

You REALLY don’t want to think about that.

About why you...

You look down at your hands. 

<View Mewssage History>

You check your phone, looking for the next message. And then the next. And the next. Your feet swing idly dozens of stories above the streets far below.

Okay fine. 

You’re going to actually do this.

You’ll start tackling these ones.

It was sort of inevitable anyway, especially with you droppin’ his presence into casual conversation like that

TC: im holdin up feline

TC: additional toys would be appureciated espurrecially if you can find a durable scratching post beclaws i can file down my nails but thats no fun if ya f33l me and like none of the others ive found short of just shredding boxes comes anywhere near scratchin the itch of a good ol fashioned cave wall or a tree and im starting to eye the concrete up here like damn

TC: bro never bothered to replace the TV or the xbox so like im criminally low on non internet based activikitties though i do wonder if my claws wouldnt get in the way them controllers are made fur human hands not troll and im purrty sure i have troll hands

TC: tho i gotta clear something up here

TC: i wouldnt say he was ever really controlling???

TC: not in a you better do shit this way or else im gonna micromanage everything you do way

TC: it was more a hes gonna do whatever he wants to do and you better deal way

TC: which to be fair isnt much better for a kid who doesnt really know any better or have any agency or ability to do shit his own way and younger me kinda took it as gospel and yeah i got shit to unpack that im kinda doing my best to ignore right now but

TC: pounce was kinda worse about that t33b33aych

TC: shed grab me by the flockin neck and drag me back inside the den by force if a curious kitten got too adventurous and ive b33n pinned and growled at fur bein reckless and yes threatened with t33th but it was her job 

TC: like i say he doesnt like me up here on the roof

TC: but does he stop me???

TC: no

TC: im turnin into a real life gargoyle and he does nuthin except make a passing comment about telescopes or helicopters the one time he was in the room as i headed up

TC: i could purrobably even leave if i wanted to go out walking tbh

TC: hed argue with me

TC: id likely drag the most words out of him in said argument than ive gotten in a w33k and purrobably the most f33lin out of him

TC: and if im being honest the semi-chaotic curious af kitten in me is tempted to actually pull that birdshit just to see what happawns

TC: but i sincerely believe he wouldnt stop me if i pushed back

TC: whether thats beclaws he doesnt care enough to stop me or beclaws were both avoiding the hell out of anyfang even remotely resembling confurtontation is up in the air though

TC: i dont plan on testin it beclaws i think hes right this time

TC: ...

Control huh.

TC: i dont know if bro ever wanted control of anything much less the life of another person

TC: the only thing he was remotely anal about was the training and...

TC: games done so thats a nonissue

TC: i havent s33n him draw his sword once since i got here

TC: not even when i managed to sneak up on him

In a twisted way you miss it. The training. And it isn’t something you like to think about. About how you’re pretty sure you loved him for it because that meant he’d pay attention to you you you.

Maybe some of that birdshit you spouted is the result of an internalized need to defend your brother. Maybe some of it is steeped in a cultural clash between parent and lusus. (Bro might be a shit parent but part of you wonders if he should have been a lusus instead.) Maybe some of it is just what you desperately want to believe, and you aren’t a thirteen year old anymore. You’ve died too many times. You’ve watched him die in front of you and you--

You didn’t--couldn’t think about him before. About that choice you made about the One Thing you could fix, and questions, so many questions that ate the hell out of you for three long years, kindling to your fires of self loathing.

Questions you could ask now, but don’t. And maybe that’s okay for now. You have time.

Time.

Stolen time. Locked away here in this world-that-should-be-dead.

Time.

For the longest time, you didn’t think he cared about you at all. You have some evidence to the contrary now, and that’s more than you’d ever expected to get considering in every glimpse you’d seen of that moment you always chose to leave him dead. Because it was your job.

...and yet here you both are. After.