🤡🤡🤡

[polymods]

✖ THE CARNIVAL

Ⅰ. ARRIVAL & THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
You can see the lights of the Ferris wheel from the water, and by the time you pull into port you can smell popcorn, cotton candy, grease, sawdust. Music drifts on the air, interspersed with screams from the rides.

The carnival is in town.

Not just any carnival, either - the carnival. The one to end all others. Every circus you ever read about or saw in a movie, with striped tents filled with acrobats and sideshows, midway games complete with carnival barkers in straw boater hats. But it's also every shitty fair that ever rolled through your hometown, with unreliable looking men with greasy mullets smoking as they jockey the Wild Mouse, the Gravitron, the Zipper, the Corkscrew. There's a constant stream of 80s hair metal playing underneath the roar of the rollercoaster tracks, blending somehow with the traditional piping organ of the carousel.

Experienced Travelers will know by now that every island has its own temple, and this one is no exception. It’s not in the carnival proper, though; if you step away from the lights of the midway and tents, you’ll notice dozens of old wooden circus trailers, arranged in a circle, growing tighter together the closer to the center you walk. The trailers are functional living places, with built in beds - sometimes one, sometimes two - and a small table and an old wood burning stove with a cooking top just big enough to boil a kettle on. There’s a toilet, but if you want a shower you’ll have to go outside and find a tent set up at the outskirts of the makeshift trailer park where there are tent showers set up, locker room style.

The clearing in the middle of the parked caravan is completely empty except for a solitary midway game: a towering high striker. It must be at least twenty feet tall, surmounted by a round, red bell. A wooden mallet is leaned against a sign next to the game that reads, predictably, TEST YOUR STRENGTH.

Step right up.

Notes:
1. Please remember to mark threads appropriately with Content Warnings when necessary.

2. These prompts are a jumping off point - how they affect your character and their development is up to you.

3. The island temple is accessible to all. The High Temple is only accessible to new characters this month - it will re-open to all others next month.

4. The Test your Strength game can be played by anyone. How well your character does is entirely up to you, but the game does not necessarily measure physical strength.

5. These residents of the island are normal humans. Killing them is possible and will affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation.

6. Any food found on the midway is safe to eat, and is consumable by non-human entities.

7. Have fun!

---

Ⅱ. HALL OF MIRRORS
When it comes to amusements, the Hall of Mirrors has always been second-fiddle to the Haunted House. But the line for the former was shorter, so here you are. The guy working the door has weasel eyes and is smoking. He gestures for you and whoever is behind you to enter together; "No singles. For safety."

The lights are a dull neon, cycling from deep blue to cyan to purple and back again. You find that your outstretched fingers will bump against smooth, clear glass as often as not. The mirrors reflect the maze back into itself over and over, disorienting and strange.

Some of the mirrors are convex, some concave, and as you pass them your reflection warps and bends alongside that of whoever you're stuck inside the maze with.

At some point you will realise that the reflection looking back at you isn't quite right. It's still you, sure, but it's not how you really look, not on the outside.

Looking back at you from the cold glass is how you perceive yourself. Perhaps that's stronger, perhaps uglier, perhaps as a sniveling child or an ancient hag. And this reflection is going to follow you from mirror to mirror as you desperately try to find your way out.

One of you spots an exit sign, bleeding red light. Only catch is that it's behind a pane of glass. And another. And another. You could break your way through all of them, certainly, but it's not as if there's anything laying around for you to use to do so. Just yourself, which might work in action movies but tends to cause a lot of physical damage in the real world.

Above the glass someone has placed a sticker that reads, “who are you really?” in black sharpie. Answer it, and the glass will swing open. Don't, and well...

Guess you'll have several years worth of bad luck.

Notes:
1. Yes, characters can bash their way out of the maze, but it is real glass and will cut anyone who isn’t invulnerable. There is a first aid station run by extremely unreliable carneys on the premises, so hopefully they can patch themselves up enough there.

---

Ⅲ. THE CAROUSEL
CW: childhood trauma
Old fashioned organ music and a million flashing lights draws you to the carousel. It's a vintage delight: huge, with ornate animals carved out of wood and lovingly hand painted. There are horses, of course, but also lions and leopards and birds and rabbits and wolves... any animal you could want! In fact, you'll see an animal that looks perfectly YOU. You just have to climb up on it for a ride.


Settled on your mount, the ride begins to move. To your surprise, it begins to move backwards. You can't seem to ungrip the pole you're hanging on to, so you're helpless to escape as the ride spins again and again.

When it stops and you step off, you will be younger. You will in fact be the same age you were when a formative event happened to you.

You're a kid at a carnival! How fun! Well, maybe you're not that young, and it's probably not very fun at all considering that now your trauma is fresh.

The only way to become your proper age again is to get on the carousel and get it to run forward. Depending on your age, you might not be able to figure any of that out, but surely one of the other Travelers can help you. You'll definitely need someone to man the carousel controls. Oh, and be careful not to knock it into overdrive...

Notes:
1. If your character does not get back on the carousel and ride it in reverse, they will revert to their actual ages at the end of the month.

2. Please be especially mindful of content warnings with underage characters. A reminder that the game does not allow explicit sexual content with minors.

3. You do not have to regress your character to childhood - if a very formative event happened at age 20 for example, you can choose that route instead.

4. Speeding up the carousel while it is moving forward will result in, you guessed it, aging your character UP. Obviously you can ride it backwards again to fix this, or again the aging will be reversed at the end of the month.

---

Ⅳ. COULROPHOBIA
CW: clowns, suffocation
Who can possibly resist the big top? Not you! You're ushered into the tent and you take a seat in the stands, where you have an excellent view of the huge ring before you. The excitement in the air is palpable, and even if you're the grouchy type you'll find yourself a little bit thrilled.

It's a little surprising when the lights go up to the sound of screaming guitars. Mist belches from hidden foggers, and flames shoot from near the center of the ring. The lights stutter red, blue, green. The whole thing is a lot more rock show than it is Ringling Brother's.

At any rate, even if the ringmaster looks like a reject from a trailer park metal band and the music is liable to burst some eardrums, it's still a circus. There are trained horses and riders, contortionists, and a score of talented trapeze artists. It's all sparkling and impressive and terrific fun.

The trapeze artists take their bows, clearly ready for a break. And if a break is needed at the circus? You know what happens next, don't you?

SEND IN THE CLOWNS!

The clowns spill into the ring, all sorts of them! There's Harlequin and Pierrot, Auguste and Tramp. There's Bozos and Ronalds and Clarabelles and Krustys. Hopefully no Gacys, but there's so many of them that it's hard to know for sure.

One of these clowns - the one you hate the most, of course - approaches you in the stands. With comically exaggerated movements, it leans close to you and whispers...

Well. It whispers horrible things to you, really. It recounts to you some instance in your life where you delighted in the suffering of another, a moment where you really and truly were happy that somebody else was hurt. It's not a moment to be proud of, for sure, but as the clown tells your own secret shameful joy to you, you start to laugh. Really laugh - soon you're bent over double, tears running down your face, absolutely howling with laughter.

Your stomach hurts, and you're running out of breath. Very soon you won't be able to breathe at all.

Eventually, one of your fellow travelers won't be able to resist asking you, "What's so funny?"

The only way to stop laughing is to tell them. Otherwise you're going to pass out right where you sit, a creepy clown leering over you the whole time. Maybe your fellow traveler will be nice enough to drag you out of there if that happens, because if you're left alone? Everybody knows clowns get so much scarier alone in the dark.

Notes:
1. What happens if you really do get ditched with the clowns? Great question. Maybe they make you one of them. Maybe they eat you. Maybe you just wake up in the Big Top dressing room and see all the clowns smoking cigars and taking their floppy shoes off to film Clown Foot Erotica.

It wouldn't be a party without some jams.

Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

Comments

[quire]

Quinton isn't exactly sure what it is he's waiting to hear. But it definitely isn't that.

When Kyle grabs hold of him he braces himself. Does his best to keep the weight of both of them upright. At least long enough to ease Kyle into a seat on the ground rather than letting him fall over. Sitting down hasta be good for hyperventilation right?

"You stole Eric's girlfriend? That's it? That's what Bozo told you?" He asks, still not quite getting the connection here. "Hey, the colour is coming back to your face. Does it feel like you're breathing again? Just, uh... Keep telling me keep telling me about Heidi I guess? I mean when you catch your breath a little. Maybe it's helping?"

[kyley_b]

Kyle nods. His knees buckle and he thumps more than sits.

"Breathing," he says, concentrating on keeping that going. After a few more struggling breaths he continues.

"I did like her. She was too nice for him, he treated her like shit. When he found out we had gone out, he was so angry. He wanted to fight."

Air tastes so sweet. "I knocked him out. And I said I was sorry, but I really wasn't. He deserved it, and I was happy he was sad."

He sits up, inhaling deeply and slowly. His hands find Quentin's and grip them.

[quire]

Quentin nods so much along to everything Kyle says anyone who didn't know him well enough might think he wasn't actually listening. He is. He's just doing a lot of other things too. Like keeping track of the oxygen levels in Kyle's brain, making sure his medulla oblongata still knows how to inflate and deflate his lungs, scanning his frontal lobe and the hippocampus for any other recent memories of the that clown that Kyle's being less forthcoming about.

He sits cross-legged with Kyle when the man holds his hands. Knees to knees he listens and later he'll think twice about having sat down on a fair ground. Gross.

"I mean... ok maybe it's not great to enjoy other people's misery. Or maybe that's just human. But also like. if he was a total shitheel to her, maybe you saved that girl from a borderline abusive relationship too. Who the hell knows," he points out. "Still breathing right? Fuck... the only thing worse than regular clowns are the ones that do magic tricks."

cw: anti-semitism

[kyley_b]

The memory of the clown is crystal clear due to it being so recent: the terrified recognition of it being a dead serial killer, the sound of hos voice whispering, "Remember the time..."

Kyle breathes some more. The feeling of Quentin's fingers in his helps him calm down... or maybe he's doing something to his brain. Kyle doesn't care.

"She dumped me," he says. "Cartman convinced her I'd tricked her into being with me because." He laughs, bitterly amused. "Jews are sneaky."

Kyle disentangles one hand to wipe at his face, surprised to find his cheeks are wet.

"I'm okay," he says. "Thank you. Dude, I couldn't breathe. Thank you."

cw: anti-semitism

[quire]

Quentin snorts. "Ok well, she's also a crazy anti-semite so bullet dodged on all counts, babe."

It's easy to chalk up the tears as a physiological response to being rendered breathless, but having been in Kyle's head he knows it's not just that.

There's nothing about him to help with the tears really, except a fat little rainbow unicorn he won playing chase the ace against some toothless carnie. He dabs up Kyle's tears with its fluffy tail.

"Hey, don't worry about it," he says. "Stay away from clowns ok? It's kind of cliche to hate them, but also they fucking suck."

[kyley_b]

Kyle shakes his head. "She really wasn't," he protests. "It's stupid, anyway, we were just little kids."

That stupid stuffed unicorm being pressed to his face makes him laugh. He shifts forward and tosses his long arms around Quentin's shoulders.

"Promise," he says. "Shit, that reminds me, I got you something. Well, sorta, I didn't win it 'cause I suck, but still." He presses his forehead to Quentin's briefly.

"Thank god you were here, dude. I coulda died."

[quire]

"How can you say that?!" he says, looking perplexed and, as always, easily drawn into some sidebar argument the minute other matters are not so pressing. "If she bought that I don't think it's unfair to call her an anti-semite."

He smiles when Kyle laughs and when those long arms let him go, he's doing his best not to draw attention to the fact that he's maybe blushing a little. "You got me something?" That's a good way to capture his attention. "Don't worry about, I've been looking for you there's some doubles games I think we'd be good at. So. You know. I'm not gonna let you die, Kyle. Least of all at the hands of a literal clown. What'd you get me anyway?"

[kyley_b]

"Because we were like, nine. She was just following Cartman's logic. It would be different if we had been like, eighteen. I don't think I can properly explain to you how GOOD he was at manipulating people." Including Kyle himself, although he's loathe to ever admit it.

"Double games, huh? You should show me." He stands up, legs a little shaky, and smiles.

"It's stupid," he warns. "But. Uhm. David won all these prizes because I guess he has all these mad skills? And I asked if I could have one. So. It's back at the caravan." He hopes his new friend Roxy, who has decided she can crash whenever she likes into the little trailer Kyle and Quentin had picked to share, hasn't moved the item.

"C'mon, I wanna get away from this crappy clown tent before fucking Pogo comes back." He looks at Quentin. "You did see that too, right? That was totally the killer clown."

[quire]

"So?" he still looks a little perplexed about why Kyle seems intent on defending her. Manipulation or no. "You don't think people are even a little responsible for their actions in some cases of manipulation?" It's a thing he thinks a lot about.

"I'll show you. There's a rowing game that's basically impossible with one person cause of how far apart the oars are." He plants his weight and leans back. Giving Kyle something sturdy to pull himself up with and lean on when he's upright again.

"It's not stupid. I wanna know what it is. Let's go back to the caravan and see. I feel like you should probably sit down for a minute or something too anyway, right?" His interest in this gift, however small, is palpable and at Kyle behest he's more than happy to get them away from clown town.

Glancing over his shoulder to where that painted performer retreated he thinks on Kyle's question but ends up shrugging. "I believe you. But I don't really remember. I'm not sure I could tell one clown from another to be honest. They all look to me like someone tried to describe Deadpool to an alien."

[kyley_b]

"I do," he concedes. "But we were little kids!" He sighs. "I mean. I don't think she believed I was BAD, just..." He trails off and sighs again.

"You're really good at making me admit stuff, Q." He slings an arm around Quentin's shoulders as they walk away.

"Okay, let's go get your present and like, some water. Then you can show me this rowing game and we'll kick its ass."

As they walk back toward the caravan and the immediate shock of nearly dying begins to fade (and how quickly it does, which should probably be concerning) Kyle finds himself reexamining his memories.

"Cartman convinced people I did 9/11," he says just before they reach their temporary home. "So I guess just comparatively getting someone to dump me over being Jewish seems tame. I guess that's fucked up."

He opens up the door and peets in. It's empty, and he finds himself relieved. Roxy would tease him for what he's about to do. Hell, Quentin might, too.

"Close your eyes," he instructs. When Quentin does so, he digs out the plush bee he's hidden and presses it into his hands. He feels stupidly nervous.

[quire]

"I know," he beams. "I'm manipulative."

He squishes Kyle against his side they walk and he unabashedly enjoys the way it feels to walk around in public with someone on his arm. Or with someone on his. Or whatever's happening here logistically.

"That is fucked up, babe," he agrees. Standing toe to toe with Kyle he reaches up and drags him down by the face for a kiss. "You know it's like... ok to think people are shitty for thinking and believing shitty things, right? Even if you're the only one their shittyness effects." Surely Kyle knows this. He's certain of that. But sometimes the man's insistence on protecting the innocent, in any given situation, borders on undeserved absolution to Quentin. Then again, he's always been a little on the wrathful side.

Their little caravan is a bit more boho-Austin-AirBnB than Quentin would ever choose, but regardless, it feel cozy and comfortable to have more private space to themselves. There's some evidence here of this new friend of Kyle's and he examines some article of clothing trying to glean a picture of them from it. Before he can, he's closing his eyes at Kyle's behest.

And when the squishy little toy is in his hands he opens them again. "It's a bee," he says. And then it hits him like a slap in the face. "Oh my God, it's a bee" he snorts and topples forward with his forehead on Kyle's shoulder as if the realization has positively slayed him. "You fucking dummy," he cackles and kisses Kyle's lips, slinging an arm around his neck. He's never been the recipient of such a frivolous little gift before. It's almost infuriating how much he enjoys it.

"It's so stupid I love it," he mumbles poking Kyle in the chest with its pudgy little stinger.

[kyley_b]

"Which isn't always a negative trait," Kyle reasons. "Sometimes in order to do good things you have to be convincing." This is not the first time he's made this argument to himself.

He's never had someone be with him in public this way. Even if his stomach and lungs hurt, he's enjoys it. Almost as much as he enjoys the way Quentin grabs his face.

"I guess so," Kyle says softly. "I mean... yeah. I do know. But even shitty people have the potential for redeeming qualities."

The clothing in question is a hot pink bra. There's a pair of Uggs by the door, too.

Kyle's nervous smile breaks into a brilliant one when Quentin falls forward with a snort. He was genuinely worried that he'd have forgotten their conversation in the poison garden, or attached no significance to it. Kyle knows that he's sentimental, and that he often remembers things that other people forget.

He kisses back, arms looping around Quentin's slim waist. "David won it," he says again, not wanting to claim credit where it isn't due. "But I thought... yeah. I'm glad you like it. And it's totally small enough that it can like, fit in your travel pack. If you want. No pressure."

[quire]

"On behalf of the shitty people— not all of us," he smirks.

He can't fault the colour choice when it comes to that clothing, but he looks like he might have a few choice things to say about the Uggs. Luckily, Kyle's stupidly romantic gesture proves more than enough distraction from shearling footwear.

Those nervous thoughts crackle in Kyle's mind like static and only after his own delight over that chubby little bee has subsided does Quentin notice the last fizzle of those thoughts evaporating from the other man's mind.

Kyle's not wrong to suspect Quentin might not be so sentimental. He isn't typically. He doesn't have any practice at it either. But what he's not prone to is forgetting anything anyone ever argued with him about.

"I won't lose it," he promises, getting the distinct impression that Kyle's hope for this gift includes keeping it someplace safe. "I'll get a chain and wear it around like Flava Flav if I have to."

It's a good thing really that Kyle's not too proud to make it clear that this isn't something with a shelf life. Someone as flippant as Quentin could easily have missed that without some prodding. But he gets it. And he's relieved to know he gets it. And he smiles like he's glad to be given a shot at hanging on to something that means a lot more to Kyle than the sum of its fuzzy little parts.

"I uh... I don't have anything for you.." he mumbles upon realizing he's been caught unprepared for this. "I'll get you something though. Just give me some time to think of something this good."

[kyley_b]

The fact that it's actually very easy to imagine Quentin wearing a stuffed bee and claiming it's fashion sends Kyle into a flurry of giggles. He kisses Quentin's forehead, affection warming his every thought and gesture.

Then he's shaking his head, smiling. "You weren't supposed to, dumbass, this was a surprise." His smile turns a little dopey. "Besides. You give me plenty." It's SO cheesy to say that he cracks up laughing in spite of meaning every word.

Kyle steals another kiss. "Gifts aren't a requirement," he says. "I'd rather get something at random because you thought I'd like it rather than out of obligation." He doesn't mention that he wishes he could have pressed the oleander Quentin had tucked against him last month.

He realises that Saxcise was right: he's got it bad. Of course, her advice was to then think boner-y thoughts at Quentin, so. Grain of salt, maybe.

[quire]

It's not out of the realm of possibility for Quentin either and if it should turn out that is the easiest way to keep track of his newfound sentimental object then that's exactly what he'll do.

Kyle really is kind of schmaltzy, he thinks. Even when he's calling Quentin a dumbass. More surprising though is the fact that it doesn't even bother him. He's made fun of people for less and here he is feeling foolishly touched by Kyle's every romantic gesture. Of course, the other thing it makes him feel is woefully inexperienced, inarticulate even, in expressing any feeling of his own that isn't based in anger. He doesn't feel like he gives Kyle plenty, standing there tumbling that little bee around in his hands like a Rubik's Cube. As if he can unlock the perfect thing to say by sorting out this jumble of colourful feelings.

"I like you," he says. "A lot. And if I'm honest I'm not a hundred percent sure why you like me except that you seem to kind of like people who can be kind of intense. Which I get. I guess what I'm wondering is like... what's your love language or whatever." He very nearly rolls his eyes at himself just for saying that but forges onward with the kind of unchecked sincerity that makes him want to stuff himself in a locker. "Like what would a guy have to do for you that's as stupid and perfect as this?" he asks, squeezing that little bee so violently its little legs protrude out at odd angles.

[kyley_b]

The relief Kyle feels at Quentin's admission is so complete that he has to wonder why exactly he's been so convinced that the second he copped to any feelings it would be over. Kyle has been hoarding his growing fondness as if this relationship were a delicate plant that could die from overwatering.

And it IS a relationship, he thinks giddily. Or he's pretty sure it is. You don't talk about love languages if it isn't a relationship of some kind.

"I like you a lot, too," he blurts. "I didn't say it because I thought... I dunno, it might freak you out."

That poor little bee. Kyle tries to think of what love languages ARE - he knows Stan told him at some point during one of his many on-again periods with Wendy.

"I think... just quality time, dude. I just like being around you." His cheeks burn. God that sounds pathetic, he thinks. "And, uhm. I liked that you didn't mind touching me in public. Like walking back here. That's. That's really nice. You know, just... like you don't mind if people know we're together."

He manages to square up all of his considerable courage to all, "Are you my boyfriend now? I mean. Do you wanna be? I want you to be."

[quire]

"It's cool," he shrugs and pecks Kyle on the cheek. His own reasons are basically the same. "I didn't say it because I thought it might freak either of us out. I not superrrr... I dunno, let's just say things don't go great when I fall for people. It's basically a bad omen," he admits. It's easy to chalk his aloofness up to a fear of commitment, but that merely scratches the surface of Quentin's complicated and often contradictory ego issues.

"That makes zero sense. No one likes being around me," he says squinting at Kyle like a detective trying to suss out an answer amongst muddy clues. "But ok. I believe you. I can operate under that assumption." The other admission lights him up a lot more easily. Like a lightbulb going on above his head, that one he gets. "Hey! Awesome! That's an easy one 'cause I'm into that too," he beams slinging his arms around Kyle's neck in his excitement.

"I don't mind if anyone knows about us if you don't. But like, as long as you're cool with fielding questions about it. Maybe it won't be so bad because we don't exactly know everyone here, but like. Just expect confusion is all I mean," he babbles, but every further clarifying question only continues to make him smile.

"Yah. Yes. Definitely. We're totally a thing. You're my boyfriend. I'm your boyfriend. It's stupid wholesome and we look great together."

[kyley_b]

"Me neither," Kyle says. "Even when I was little, if I liked someone it basically meant they were cursed." What he's really hearing is Quentin has fallen for him. Him! It's a revolutionary idea.

He snorts and kisses the skin between Quentin's eyebrows. "It makes perfect sense." He can't help but smile back - Quentin's grin is infectious. "It's cool, I've already told Carter and David we like... you know, hooked up. David seemed pretty unimpressed with me but I think he's just mad you mind controlled a bunch of people or something." Something Kyle knows is morally pretty shitty, but he can't bring himself to care at the moment.

He has a lot of practice justifying things.

"Dude. Sweet." He kisses him then, through his smile. "I'm gonna fuck up. I've never done this before. But let's promise we don't like, change things just because it's official or whatever. I like you all snarky and shit."

[quire]

"Same! Well. Or it meant I was cursed. Either way it doesn't shake out great," Whatever the cause of their recurring relationship problems he's more than willing to convince himself this one could be different, because Kyle is different after all.

He looks smug to think so many people already know that he's wormed his way into Kyle's good graces and his pants at once. The derisive snort he responds with seems to expect exactly what Kyle reports. "Yeah that's not surprising. He low-key hates me. By which I mean I think he high-key hates me and just tries not to let on that I irritate him." He futzes with that little bee again and cops a thoughtful expression. "He did talk to me for like a minute longer than usual though so. Maybe he's willing to put up with me for you."

Pressing forward until Kyle's forced to step back, Quentin herds him towards the edge of that little caravan bed, muddled in a mess of different blankets. "It's cool. I'm definitely going to fuck things up too and I'm physically incapable of being tactful," he promises and shoves Kyle into bed. Standing there with his hand on his heart like he's swearing an oath he goes on, "but you have my proactive forgiveness for just about anything done without malicious intent. Now lay down a bit how 'bout? You should probably be resting or something after that little clown attack. Do you like... need some water maybe?"

[kyley_b]

"Yeah, exactly." Kyle of course hasn't had an adult relationship because things have never gotten to this point before. He's cautiously optimistic.

"I'm sure he doesn't hate you," he protests. "Just finds you annoying, or something. Potentially dangerous maybe. I dunno, I'm pretty sure he definitely does NOT want me gushing about you though so I just won't do that and we'll be chill." He knows David is a good guy who respects his friends' choices. Or at least is too polite to say anything.

Kyle let's himself be pushed over, snickering. "Q, if you were tactful we probably wouldn't get along as good as we do," he points out. "And thanks."

He kicks his shoes off and lays on his side. "Water would be nice. So would cuddles."

[quire]

Precious few of Quentin's relationships could be considered adult affairs either. Not that that would stop him from arguing for the legitimacy of any of them.

The same way Kyle keeps trying to impress upon him jut how horrible his friend Cartman was Quentin wonders if he's adequately explained just how many people— human and human alike— absolutely detest him. "Hey, I'm willing to bet you know him better than I do, but like just prepare yourself for the potential that hate is definitely the right word," he says with his eyebrows raised comically as he fills up a tin cup full of water for Kyle. "I know you guys are friends so I've tried to be like... nice to him. Whatever that means. I'm just saying— I swear I'm not antagonizing him."

"I just like to prioritize being clear," he says in his defence, but by the way he smiles as he stands over Kyle with that water promises just how little he cares about lacking in tact. "Drink up and then snug in," he says, hauling back the blankets to crawl in there once Kyle's set his cup up.

"Thanks," he sighs. "I like that you're... I dunno. Thick skinned. But you're also smart. And know how to have an argument without. You know. Letting it change your whole opinion of someone. That's pretty rare."

[kyley_b]

"I'm sure it's not HATE hate. Just... strong dislike, maybe. Plus you grow on people! I thought I hated you, after all." He smiles. "Aw, really? Dude, that's so sweet of you. Thank you." Because not antagonizing someone is definitely hard work for Quentin.

He drinks his water and puts the cup aside, shifting so Quentin can join him. "I'm the son of a lawyer and a New Jersey housewife," he says dryly. "Of course I know how to argue properly. The aim is never really about the person, it's about the point they're making." He drapes an arm over Quentin's waist.

"You fit good against me. I like that. And NO I'm not calling you short, don't even start."

[quire]

"Yeah, but you're hot for people who piss you off so you throw off the whole system," he smirks and buries himself in close against Kyle when the other man's praise threatens to embarrass him. "Shut uppp, it's not sweet. I'm just not trying to make our lives any harder, ok?"

"Did you know my parents never argued?" he says, "My adoptive parents I mean. They were like... really boring WASPy people who just pretended problems didn't exist." He says like he knows it's a fact that sometimes surprises people.

"Good because I'm not short. You're just tall," he corrects. Grinning against Kyle's chest the whole time. "You're comfy."

[kyley_b]

Kyle's cheeks go pink, but he can't really deny it. "It's sweet to me," he replies. He kisses the top of Quentin's head before he listens.

"Never? Whoa." He thinks for a moment before he goes on. "My folks didn't argue a lot with each other because my mom is... well. My mom is a force. And my dad usually just goes along with what she wants. But that's different than what you're describing. It sounds like they were repressed as fuck. When did they adopt you?" Because Quentin sure isn't repressed.

"I am tall," he agrees. "And comfy. Which is good for us both."

[quire]

"Why do you like to be frustrated so much, babe?" he muses aloud as he plays with Kyle's curls. "Do you like to be sexually frustrated too?"

"Right? That always blows people's minds. Until I tell them I was adopted and then they're like ok that makes sense." Truly he doesn't know what he can chalk up to nature or nurture and active tries to avoid thinking much about it. "When I was still in kindergarten. I was like six and I wasn't in the system very long so they were hoping I wouldn't be irreparably damaged yet."

"Hey," he turns until he can face Kyle without really leaving that comfy spot against his shoulder. "You said this was a first for you, or something. Didn't you?"