your final resting place.

sideblog to @ourpretender. 21+ indie & priv. ( penned by jk )

[carminekings]

────── ❝ your final resting place. ❞

primary: @ourpretender. ( heavily associated with @egojock. )

guidelines ── & ── muses ── & ── opens

[ourpretender]

— a note !!

predictably, and as i oft do, muse trickled into nothing midway last month — so this muse and blog will be on hiatus !! i genuinely treasured all the thrilling threads and interactions i had here, and if there's any continued desire to write with me, i'll offer my discord in ims, but otherwise — tipping my hat to you all !! ( i'll keep this up regardless, in the off chance i return to him, as my fondness for this little devil, and the troubles he's stirred with all of your muses, bring me joy still. ) ttfn !!

[carminekings]

[petitsdieu]

The body remembers and displays accordingly.

❛ I meant it in a... I see it kind of way. ❜

She clarifies, too. The sober tip of her tongue catching the rest of her up to speed. What she had said could be taken ill-like. Alone in the ache, he is not. If he aches any.

Feeling both drowsy and baked by the sun, she breaks from her idle pose to stand. Two thumbs hook off her sundress and drops it to the sand. Her bathing suit is still damp from her previous swim.

❛ I'm going in. Coming? ❜

[carminekings]

he watches her, a marvel. "will it be cold?" martin isn't keen on surprises, though he assures her of complicity and peels his shirt up and over his head, tossing it careless to the side. "will it?" pressing glances dart back and forth, a hanging mouth idle and waiting. then a sandy bare heel anchors a long pant leg, and the denim crumples. martin hurries, tailing hara with a stroking gaze. "it'll warm up?"

[felixferitas]

contrary to joe's assumption, felix doesn't have a rod up his ass and could even acknowledge that he was quite funny. endearing, really. it's not like he's wrong either, considering felix hadn't even given him his famous tour and shown him the duvet with henry viii's spunk on it. the acknowledgement that he was just venetia's sidething surprises him however, a studded brow raising inquisitively along with the dimpled corners of his mouth. "you're ridiculous," felix tells him, shaking his head. he's well aware that actually, the circumstances in which the cattons lived were kind of ridiculous — but it was old news to felix, tawdry and gauche. the hideous fucking reubens, the twenty thousand pound tapestries and chintz, he can't be assed. felix flushes, because he hadn't actually meant to give that much away, gnawing at his bottom lip because now he's certain anything that flies out of his mouth will seem silly. especially with this background. he doesn't like being dismissed, and while felix is warming up to joe, he doesn't trust joe enough to actually confide anything of meaning to him yet. "er, yeah. forget it. my mum's kind of anal retentive about facial hair, stubble — she gets freaked out by that kind of thing. don't go walking around the place after having just gone for a swim, either, she doesn't like it when things get all wet." he blinks, thinking better of it. "but it's relaxed." a bold-faced lie if there ever was one, but felix has given joe a hard enough time as it is.

[carminekings]

his brows scrunch up, the murmured display of varying wrongs — not suggestions but outright laws — unravelling sillier and sillier. she's particular in a way joe's unfamiliar with, hyper vigilant about shit that hardly matters, and the balking shows on his face. "things? — how wet are we sayin'? can i go for a swim n' then dry off outdoors or summin'?" ridiculous as it is, felix is reassuring in his expressions — halfway apologetic, halfway flustered — embarrassed presumably, by the stiff-lipped ways of his family. it's an isolating thing to experience, an uncomfortable thing to communicate, nevertheless to a stranger. then, because joe's the sort to press on a bruise when it hurts, he cocks his head — squinting with a pursed frown, "what happens otherwise? like," and he's not trying to break something newly healed, but, "she gunna — make me leave? aren't youse the sort to keep things real quiet? ya know. traditional type, ol' school english. keep everythin' hush hush n' that."

[rachelsennott]

THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN (2022) Dir. Martin McDonagh

[carminekings]

❛ there’s something tragic about you. ❜ @petitsdieu

"i've heard that before." his hands are wet, both palms flat over the ocean's edge, heavy prints against rock and molluscs and dancing seaweed. martin shifts from left arm to the right. "something similar," he clarifies. "i have the eyes for it. or the hands. the voice." the damp drip of his fingertips hover now, both lifted, dirtied with cloying sand. martin rubs at the grain, messy thumb over messy thumb; glancing over in beats. "you have them too."

[egojock]

a look of disgust flickers over nate's face, flitting to the saliva covered straw and then back up to martin's mouth. it looked like the dog had gotten a hold of it. why nate's fine with mouth to mouth kissing but not whatever martin's trying to do is something that would take forever to articulate, so he merely shakes his head. "a nobody is someone who inflicts suffering on themselves by still using paper biodegradable straws even when the turtles are irrevocably fucked." his tone is as dry as his delivery, illustrating that he doesn't really care much either way and nate was merely trying to buy himself some time to filter his genuine answer. it was a broad question that nate didn't really know how to parse. "personally? i think a nobody is someone without a sense of discipline, who does whatever they want without thoughts of consequences or how their actions affect others." he's aware it sounds like he's describing himself — nate's not likely to disagree with that interpretation, either. sometimes you had to call a spade a spade. he gnaws at the swell of his bottom lip with a far-off look in his eyes, shaking his head dismissively. "you're not a nobody or even a fake somebody, martin. you've got real principles. you care about people." he doesn't know why, because nate thinks most people fucking suck and aren't worth caring about, but he thinks it's commendable that martin does.

[carminekings]

martin sucks the straw back into his mouth, cold, cold, lemonade wetting the flat of his tongue. nate entertains his questions easier than most. his opinions are often clear cut: person a is this, person b is this; person a used to be this, and now they are that. and although martin knows better than to assume all of it fact, he has little reason to believe otherwise. there is nothing to lie about. plus, nate likes him enough to say it. steven only liked him in bursts, and when it worked for his ego. and then he didn't like him much at all. or perhaps he liked him so much it became ill-fitting. regardless. he sets the cup down. "those are also principles." squinting under the sun, martin eyes nate with a free hand hovering above his brows. "we're both somebodies then?"

[carminekings]

❛ i always thought it would be better to be a fake somebody, than a real nobody. ❜ @egojock

martin crosses his legs, shoulders hunched over as he sips an ice cold lemonade. it isn't as sweet as he'd like; his mom does it best (although anna was good with lemonade too) but he'll take it in opposition of the summer heat. his arms aren't pink under the sun yet. he extends the drink out to nate, paper straw lightly chewed with habit. "what does a nobody look like?"

[cyberxbattalion]

[felixferitas]

felix's lips thin in annoyance, brows furrowing. joe's adamant on continuing to antagonize him, it seemed, but at least felix can be thankful he's not being disgustingly crass anymore. doubtful it'll last, but for the moment he can be appreciative. he glares at joe over his flat white, taking a sip as he braces himself for more senseless jabber. but to his dismay, joe's actually making sense. in a rare moment of clarity, felix recognizes that he might have been needlessly harsh on joe. he probably doesn't know any better, and it's not like felix had much notice about his presence at saltburn over the course of the summer, otherwise felix might've tried to clue him in on the necessary ettiquette to blend in with his family. something to help him not stick out like a sore thumb. "doesn't matter. maybe i am taking this more seriously, more personally than i ought to. but whatever, that says more about me than it does about you. you are, after all, only staying at my ancestral home." felix offers him a polite close-lipped smile. shifting tactics, opting to kill him with kindness — or at least lull joe into a false sense of security. it really was less about joe and perhaps more about felix. he always feels stressed out and overwhelmed whenever he returns from a term at oxford, when really one would think it'd be the other way around. "just forget it. and consider yourself lucky, i suppose, because if mum's not scrutinizing you she'll be focusing on me." he takes another sip of his flatwhite before setting it down, fingers absentmindedly stroking over his chin. good — his stubble hasn't grown back yet.

[carminekings]

he's fairly surprised by the tonal shift — the scrutinizing aggression softening with slippery argument, the tilted grin that follows and its waning guard. but joe won't forgo good opportunity, so in between the casual warnings, he scoffs — playful and lighthearted like they deserve. "'ancestral home' — don't gotta make it sound more important than it already is! m' already waitin' to spill sum' thousand dollar wine o'er sum' rug older than the feckin' church. christ, bet i'd be charged by the hour jus' breathin' in 18th century dust or summin' if i wasn't venetia's side thing." it's ridiculous enough that he laughs himself, shaking his head silly from the surrealist lifestyle before him. in the grand scheme of things, felix is comparatively normal — as average as one can be once born with a golden spoon; pretentious in his own way, and the sort to prickle when things don't go his way, but joe won't hold that against him. (they're similar in that sense.) his eyes trace the fidget of felix's hands, an arched brow lifting with the words that mumble forth. joe idles with a tap, tap, tap against the surface. "what's she got to scrutinize? — yer' hair ain't combed right? you've — what — drank 'em dry wit' the flat whites?"

[felixferitas]

felix doesn't consider himself a snob, and in fact, he pales in comparison to some of his peers at webbe. their difference in social status isn't what grates at felix, it's the lack of respect. joe may be venetia's boytoy of the summer, but he was still a fucking houseguest. if he thinks he only has to stay in venetia's good graces for things to be hunky dory, joe's sorely mistaken. "oh for fucks sake. fine, just don't turn your head." predictably, joe doesn't move when he asks and felix heaves a sigh before momentarily crowding him up against the counter to nab his ceramic mug from the cabinet, retreating afterwards. he doesn't bother closing the cabinet because he doesn't trust himself not to slam it on joe's head, especially with the incendiary comments coming out of the other boy's mouth. he busies himself with the espresso machine, gnawing at the inside of his cheek before whirling back around. "i'm not pissed you accepted the invitation, i'm pissed you accepted when you don't know how to behave yourself. this isn't a fucking inn. and i'm predicting you're only going to get worse instead of better, 'cos you seem real contrite over your actions thus far." a tired hand scrubs at his face, hairy knuckles digging into his eyesockets like he can rub his frustration alongside the sight of joe away. felix isn't sure there's a point in giving voice to further complaints. he's sure more will arise as the summer drags on. gods, he needs a vacation away from his vacation — that's never a good sign of things to come. with any luck, farleigh will be on his side and felix will have little interaction with joe going further.

[carminekings]

felix's blatant irritation is largely amusing — the bristling more entertaining than it is insulting — but the nagging (and it is nagging) strains each scoff that bubbles to the surface. one would think that without a family and without any solid shelter, that there'd be nothing and no one to pressure him; educate him with a pointed index and a stern look. venetia doesn't rise to the occasion — and although her father seems less enthused by joe's presence, even he cares little to shoulder responsibility. that felix does, is laughable. "jesus — who else is reelin' o'er this huh? yer' mom put you up to this? or this is all you?" his shoulders are propped up, roughened palms sat against the counter as he smoulders, creased brows angled in mild annoyance. "must be all you, 'cause no one else gives a shit. venetia doesn't. yer' parents don't. you really care this much 'bout — feckin' — stiff behaviour? bein' all — proper n' shit?"

[felixferitas]

@carminekings: ❛  if you've got a problem with the way i handle things, just say so.  ❜ ( joe x felix / random impulsive au where joe is venetia's temporary summer fling and he's way more crass and hard to bond with than anyone expects ? ? ? joe being overtly handsy with venetia perhaps & felix taking issue with his obnoxious behaviour ? ? ? )

felix has experienced one too many summers like this, if you asked him. whether it be venetia usurping a friend he's invited over for a few weeks or in a case more like this where she'd collected any stray off the street that would clean up well with a bit of spit and polish, it was getting a bit too rich for felix's blood. especially when these uneducated strays felt up his sister right in front of him. there was being rough around the edges, and then being downright disrespectful. "sure, mate. because you're the type that seems like you'd be so receptive to constructive criticism," he drawls, rolling his eyes. he's not going to waste his breath if it's going to go in one ear and out the other, not if his body language could communicate a lot for him. "i just think vee's wasting her time with you. it'd hurt your feelings if i went into the 'why', although i'm not sure why i'm still concerned with social niceties when you're practically fingerbanging my sister six feet away from me. classy stuff, that." a sneer tugs at his lips. joe has barely been at saltburn for any length of time, and felix was already counting down the days of the calendar until he'd left and mourning all the plans that joe has been included in. felix was a people-pleaser, he could pretend and shovel shit with a smile on his face with the best of them, but nothing would lose favor with him quicker than if you disrespected venetia. venetia herself seemed to enjoy this type of disrespect well enough, but god, why did he have to be privy to it? his gaze flits from joe's face to behind the cabinet he's standing in front of, jaw clenching with petty disdain. "can you move? you make a better door than a window." it's not likely, but maybe he'll be in a better mood once he's had some caffeine in his system. if not that, the satisfaction of giving the other man a tongue-lashing would surely do the trick. dependent on how joe reacts. felix could have the patience of a saint at times, and the temperament of a ill-behaved child at others.

[carminekings]

venetia's brother is a right cunt. figures, that. her parents are passive about things within the family and then overt and blunt when they're addressing the outskirts — but it's rather easy to avoid them either way. they're almost relieved when joe arrives, intrigued — certainly — (the questions rush in like an interrogation or a fucking job interview) until the inquisitions give way to disinterest. venetia tells him that this is a good thing; that to be further intertwined with the dysfunction, with their cold-blooded affection, is fatal in the long run. he doesn't question it. and he's pretty good at ignoring the signs, waving off the red flags, shouldering away the judgment — save for felix. his exasperation almost wails, discomfort so palpable that it's almost funny, but when the heat boils over, joe scoffs, a lazy arm still tucked into worn out sweats. "christ, someone's got a feckin' rod up their ass." predictably, he doesn't move. "so what, yer' pissed at me for acceptin' the invitation? — i didn't force her to bring me 'ere. not my fault she likes me." a smug little sneer pulls onto his features then, right cheek lifting then with the rising irritation. "she likes me a whole lot. you've seen it 'nyway."

[staud]

You wanna smell? Yeah, jump in. bubbles & crosby – masters of the air 1x02

[egojock]

nate offers a remorseful and acknowledging smile, along with a shrug of his shoulders. chester is brash and loud, unapologetically flamboyant in all the ways a person he could possibly be, but doesn't rattle or stand down when challenged with nate's toxic brand of all-american masculinity. he can sense chester's prickling disdain for him a mile away, and it's not like nate doesn't understand it. "i know you probably hate me. and you're right, i did mean to offend you. hurt you? not exactly. i just .. wanted your attention," nate admits, the swell of his bottom lip tugged sheepishly between his teeth, not eager to clarify why that is. but chester seemed like the no-nonsense type, so he knows it's a matter of time before nate has to abhor doing -- showcasing any type of vulnerability. his gaze flits up to meet chester's opposing brown eyes, exhaling softly. "you kind of, uhm. scare the shit out of me. everything about you, and everything you stand for," nate tells him, sincere even though this was probably something chester could've figured himself. he's sure the opposite is true for chester, too. but he should know that nate is not all he pretends to be. his face flushes, shifting his weight from foot to foot. he doesn't know why he gives a fuck what chester thinks of him. it's not like it matters. "and i know ... you probably have these ideas about me, based on the way i act at school, or on the football field. you probably think i'm some homophobic shit-for-brains jock. nothing more to write home about. am i wrong?" nate's not going to make a case for himself, implore that there's anything more to him, not if chester's unwilling to hear it. "i might just surprise you." or disappoint you.

[carminekings]

he doesn't need surprising, nor does he even expect it — but the more flustered nate appears, the easier it is to believe him. it would be humiliating to follow through with the coming apology if it wasn't wholly genuine. still, chester is sharp-edged. "two things. one, i don't stand for anything. i'm a guy who just-so-happens to defy external expectation; not a walking political statement; not a flag made into a person." he's had his fair share of idolizing acquaintances — some, lovers, but most, passing friends, distant strangers. it is an uncomfortably cold position to be placed upon — to be deemed so unique, deemed representative of more than chester himself, that he's grown to despise it. and he would enunciate this latter half if he wasn't sympathetic to how little nate must know about him. he lifts his chin here, taking a short step closer when he continues. "two, i don't hate you. i don't even really know you, nate. but if you want to surprise me — then surprise me. i'm not going to hold you to your word just because you say so."

perhaps it's unmitigated, but chester's expression softens here, lips furling inward when he considers the stiffness radiating outward. nate's discomfort isn't his battle to fight, but there is an inevitable amount of sympathy. chester steps back, relieving any existing tension with a cocked hip and a telltale sigh. a dollop of comedy, a swipe of kindness. "now, can i leave and ideally change out of this god-awful fashion faux pas i've been forced into?"

[carminekings]

"actually, it's been scientifically suggested — through the theory of evolution — that the egg came before the chicken."

[carminekings]

"y' wouldn't turn down a free drink would ya? — from this face?" kane gestures, easy and dimpled, to his own features.