lifeaftr | TiK Tok

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TiK Tok

Who: Lup (

ohnehalfte), and possibly you!
What: Drunken party of drunkenness and shenanigans
When: Nov 17th, mid-day until everyone passes tf out
Where: Islet #2 aka Trash Island, somewhere out in front of cottage 1 and along the beach
Warnings: Drunk people, swearing, ill-advised people hitting each other with sticks, questionable food, drunken cuddles and crying, etc, etc tbc when there's more

Welcome to Islet 2! There are many reasons for you to be here right now. Maybe you live here. Maybe you're visiting someone who lives here. Maybe you've been invited to this sick party by one of the above idiots. Maybe you were just passing by and got dragged into the festivities. Who cares, really? You're here now!

Out in front of Cottage 1 there's the beautiful banner that you see above hanging on the outside, lovingly crafted by one of the twins. The twins have also lovingly crafted some vodka using magic and potatoes. Potato magic. And hey! There's also stuff that the twins cooked! Like potato tornadoes, fried shark genitals and Fantasy Kentucky Fried Pterax! And other food! And there's a fire! And activities! And drinking!

Mainly drinking. In fact, there is a large cooking pot that, at the moment, is full of the most moonshine-iest vodka you have ever had. There are empty halves of coconut shells to serve as cups, as well as some clay cups that may or may not have come from an interesting source. So help yourself! Who knows how long it'll last, considering the amount of guests. Heck! It might even be repurposed later, after all the vodka is gone! So drink up.

Anyway, feel free to join in on the festivities! There will be several threads for activities where people can mingle, or you can start your own. Have a party, chill out, and/or imbibe ill-advised substances to try and forget that you died. Wheeeee!

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Tim's not a child, per se, but he knows quite a few that favor knives. He's unfortunately reached the point in his life where he's just decided...fuck it? Fuck it. If he wants to last here in the long-term, he's gonna need weapons.

"Is there an age limit, or do you hand those out to just anybody?" he asks, a little wryly, with a nod at one of the many blades on Lup's person.

Hey boy, you're way too tall to be a child. You can't fool her. Lup eyes him up and down, vague recognition battling with the pleasant buzz of not particularly giving a shit. Her lazy smile becomes a tad sharper at his question.

"Strictly PG-13 and under, my dude. Somebody's gotta think of the kids, you know? ...Unless you've got something to trade for it." So maybe she's off the clock, but it's not work if she's enjoying it.

He’d smile if he could. Instead, his mouth simply twists wryly. She knows her demographic, that’s for damn sure. Tim let’s hus pack slide onto the sand at his feet and starts picking through it before emerging with a bottle about ine sixth full of moonshine.

“You a big drinker?”

Heck yes, now they're talking. She watches him pick out an acceptable offering with her hands on her hips, and snorts delightedly at his question.

"Homeslice, I spent the past week peeling fucking potatoes so my bro could bless this mess with the most Vodka you've probably ever seen? So yeah, I'm super into drinking. Gimme." And she holds out her hand for it so she can check the goods.

"Cave moonshine," he says dryly, handing it over. "Have it on good authority that it's safe, seeing as pretty much everyone else has managed to drink plenty without getting any drunker than usual."

Not like he's capable of drinking, anyway. His brain's got enough screwed-up chemical reactions going on in there without him tossing alcohol into the mess.

She takes a sniff of the contents and makes a face like it's exactly the right amount of awful. It doesn't escape her notice that he apparently hasn't tried the moonshine himself and she feels vaguely nosy about it, but whatever, not gonna look traded alcohol in the mouth actually. So instead she hands over one of the bone knives and grins, pleased with the deal. Shoulda saved more than a sixth of a bottle if he wanted an obsidian blade, sorry.

"Now don't go breaking that thing, Lup 'n Taako have a strict no refunds policy, my friend," she jokes, because if she gave a shit what people do with her knives she wouldn't be supplying them to children. And actually something about that finally reminds her how she knows him and she tilts her head, considering him from under lazily hooded eyes. "Hey, you're buddies with Kidwun, aren't you?"

For now, he'll be happy enough with the bone. He flips the thing a couple times in his hand to test its grip. Seems sturdy, sharp enough. That's definitely not his instinct that's commanding that line of thought, but at the moment, the lazy party atmosphere isn't doing much of anything to prevent it from rearing its head. He doesn't tamp it down nearly quickly enough.

Particularly when she launches that question at him, and it's a little bit on the nose, considering everything.

"You could say that." Buddies is a kinder word than he'd use, but it's not like there really is a word for shared a soul, abused that connection, and willingly got stabbed because of it. "Why?"

Listen, Lup's not exactly known the planar systems over for her subtlety and discretion. Kind of the opposite really, especially when tipsy. And another thing she's not known for is uh, forethought, as she realizes that she doesn't have a good non-bullshit answer to why she's snooping into the kid's business. She didn't think she'd get this far? Welp, no way but forward.

"Just curious," she says with a shrug and squirrels the moonshine away in her bag. "I mean, what's the story there?" Though she cringes almost immediately at her own words. "Alright, saying that out loud? I realize that sounds hella suspicious, so scratch that. I just wanna know you're like... cool." Cool in this case meaning not a total dick who's gonna hurt the kid in some way. "You're cool, right? Because if not, we're gonna have ourselves a problem," she adds with a bright, sharp grin, confidence restored.

"I live with them," he says, by way of explanation. "And if you know Kidwun, you probably know it's pretty much impossible to get them to do something they don't want to do."

Is it surprising that she's developed some protective instincts for the kid? Not exactly. Mostly he thinks: thank god. They have a way of ending up in people's hearts despite their best efforts. Not nearly enough people have given a shit about them in the past; even if this is only just now making up for lost time, it's something.

It's something.

Lup does snort at that, because yeah, trying to make them do anything is a surefire way of getting a knife where it matters. But coercion isn't the only way to hurt a prickly and distrustful child, she doesn't say. Belatedly, his wording sinks in, he lives with them, like they're the one giving him shelter and not the other way around. She can imagine it easily, the kid ordering him to stay with them and their sibling before he gets himself killed or something. There's gotta be more to it than that, they wouldn't give that much of a shit about just anyone, but she'd bet that's the gist of it. And if he realizes that's the dynamic there, to let the kid hold the reins most ways, then yeah, he's probably cool.

So her smile loses its edge and she nods agreeably. "For sure. Well, pleasure doing business with you my man. Don't forget to stop by the buffet and take something back for your uh, your household."

Really, that's just kind of how it happened. Until recently, he was wholly dependent on them to stay medicated. Even now that they've handed that leash back over to him, he hasn't...

Well, he's not in denial about his reasons for sticking around. He gives a damn. So sue him.

"Household," he says mildly, torn between amusement and perplexity. "You make it sound like a real domestic haven."

Well maybe it should be. Maybe that'd be real good for both the kids. But that's none a her business and this guy doesn't really strike her as the nesting type anyway. It'd only work if, if they met someone who could give them the right kind of balance between freedom and stability. That's tricky, for kids like them. Would be worth it, though.

Shit, she fell down some actual if poorly defined emotions there, huh. She chuckles quickly, like it's a more ridiculous notion than it actually is. "I mean you never know? Island life's challenging all of us, or some shit. And people have just been like, unconscionably likable, around here? So maybe just lean into the domesticity, dude." There was probably a point in there somewhere.

She’s not entirely wrong. It’s just that between the three of them, there’s enough paranoia to ensure that nothing easily defined as some kind of normal life is remotely possible in the immediacy.

Particularly considering the end goal.

“Any tips on going about that?” He is mostly joking? But also partially not, because a normal life is not something he’s extremely knowledgeable about.

The problem about this whole, this weird conversational skirting around the edge of something Real is that Lup's never been one for a normal life either. The only insight she ever got into that kinda thing lasted just long enough to really hurt when it was gone. So while she's usually super down to school a fool on almost anything, being asked for advice on this? It's got her ears snapping back at an uneven cant, betraying an uncharacteristic insecurity despite the nonchalant smile on her face never slipping.

"Look I'm not the local Toys 'R' Us or anything, I dunno what the kids are into these days?" She snorts dismissively, but then softens a bit because she does want to help, is the thing. "Ren seems to like uh, a routine I guess? Knowing there's always gonna be breakfast and dinner and games. She likes contributing, everybody having tasks that she can help with." Even if that help more often than not results either in some kinda hilarious damage control or straight up just dropping everything to go hare off on a game of hide n seek. And now Lup's kind of smiling for real.

"So like, spend downtime with em doing what they like?" What does Kidwun even like, as just, an actual hobby. She shrugs. "Kittu likes flowers in their hair." Wow, so helpful.

Despite the uncertainty, that's...not a bad answer. It's not like he can remember much of his early life, of the fragments of normality he must have had before a hospital turned out to be a more stable living environment for everyone involved. He finds himself making a mental tally of each point she offers. They're not bad suggestions.

He almost even smiles himself. Kittu likes flowers in their hair, huh? That, uh...that would figure.

"I guess it feels like it's harder to find downtime than it, uh, actually is." Chara is no less devoted to doing things of the pragmatic persuasion than they were in Sol Raveh. Then again, has he ever asked them if they'd like to do something small, and silly?

Guess he's not much of a parent. But that was pretty, uh, apparent, huh?

~~Lup gets the inexplicable urge to punch Tim, weird how that just happens.~~ "For sure, I mean we're kinda legit fighting for survival out here? But the island's not gonna come crashing down around your ears if you spend a couple hours playing tag or something. Trust me on that one." It's... not really that different from life on the Starblaster. They had to work hard just to stay alive, deal with environments or people outright hostile to them, had to tirelessly adapt and improve themselves. But it was the little things that kept them going, and they never lost sight of what mattered, of each other.

So maybe she does have some advice for being part of a family.

"Just be there for them when they need you. Is that something you can do?"

There is almost too much he can do, and simultaneously not enough.

He can tell a kid that it's all right to cry, because it doesn't make you weak, and he'll watch them shut down in real time, shutter the tentative vulnerability peeping out from beneath closed lids so no one has to see any of it slip out. He can tell a kid that they're allowed to be angry for what was done to them, and hear them snarl for him to stop. He can watch them caught in the throes of grief until they tell him let go.

He can violate their soul, by using the differences between them to pry himself away.

"Yeah," says Tim. The word hitches very slightly, but he breathes past it. "That's about the only thing I can do."

He's always been a hell of a liar.

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