🍻 “ what have you done that people would judge you most for doing ?”
“already answered. moving along. not down to chat about it.”
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@nicholascvldwell
🍻 “ what have you done that people would judge you most for doing ?”
“already answered. moving along. not down to chat about it.”
(this is from Jac this is a sideblog ok thnk) “ what have you done that people would judge you most for doing ?”
“there’s a lot of things i’ve done that people would judge me for. i don’t like talking about it, really. reminds me of fuckin’ therapy. probably that i shut out my mom. or betrayed her. one of the two.”
drunken confession.
your muse is drinking with mine and has been given the chance to question my muse anything they want to know. some may be triggering, others won’t. send me a 🍻+ the question you want to ask my muse for a tipsy, drunken ( honest ) answer.
“ what’s holding you back in life ?”
“ is everything alright? ”
“ when did you choose to give up ?”
“ what’s the kinkiest thing you have ever done ?”
“ how many have you slept with ?”
“ what’s your biggest secret ?”
“ do you believe in love ?”
“ what’s the meanest thing you have done ?”
“ what scares you more than anything ?”
“ have you ever considered running away ?”
“ do you love me ?”
“ what’s your dirtiest fantasy ?”
“ who hurt you ?”
“ what made you this way ?”
“ is there anyone special in your life ?”
“ why are you always smiling ?”
“ what lie have you told that hurt someone ?”
“ if you could do anything in world, what would it be ?”
“ who are you, really ?”
“ is there anything you regret ?”
“ what’s your biggest regret ?”
“ tell me about your first kiss ?”
“ what is your deepest, darkest fear ?”
“ is there anyone you regret kissing ?”
“ have you ever cheated, or been cheated on ?”
“ what is the most embarrassing thing in your room ?”
“ who have you loved, but they didn’t love you back ?”
“ is there something you have never told anyone ?”
“ when was the last time you cried ?”
“ how come you keep running away ?”
“ have you ever made someone cry ?”
“ if anything, what makes you hate a person ?”
“ what takes for you to fall in love, trust someone ?”
“ do you believe in true love ?”
“ what have you done that people would judge you most for doing ?”
“ do you regret letting me close ?”
“ is there someone you have a crush on ?”
“ what is the strangest place you have ever had sex ?”
“ tell me your most awkward date story ?”
“ do you ever get scared ?”
“ what do you really think of life ?”
add your own for further development.
nadiateymouri·:
Nadia had changed into a little shift dress, it was the colour of a blue jewel and embroidered with constellations. It wasn’t particularly her style, but Lee had insisted that the long stretch of her bare legs was worth it. She tottered in with heels that were dangerously too tall, clutching a tiny bag that held only her phone, cigarettes and lipstick. This was the event that was supposed to be easier than the first; but still she trembled with anxiety— there was an intimacy to large parties, Gatsby had been right, even though her entrance had been one where she felt nearly invisible, Nadia knew that once eyes met her she’d be cornered. Still, she felt the press to be social and moved towards a face that she recognized from the Palms. “Hi,” she managed, “Do you know where the bar is?”
it was more of less something out of a movie — the way that bikini-clad women scattered about the pool with their feet dipped in the blue, the beer pong that was set up in the corner with little palm trees scattered around the table, how the echo of a professional los angeles dj boomed against the walls. it was the kind of scene that made one, if in a good mood, feel like a king — and here was the kingdom. he recognized the face before she started towards him, but the name failed him. “hi, yourself,” he countered, already amused at the sheer fact that she seemed to be obviously out of place, or so she felt that way. “after another vodka cranberry?” he teased, brown eyes peering down at her, lengthy, with a leg out on display, yet nowhere near a challenge towards his height. “here, in the meantime,” he motioned towards her, hand shoving his drink towards her chest, filled with tequila and lime, something he didn’t sway from too much, particularly at parties, before wrapping an arm around her petite shoulders and making his way towards the bar he had become comfortable with earlier on. “look a bit like a lost deer or something.”
eliasmorrissey·:
Around the corner, he came promenading, his black suit coat already off, slung over his shoulder, one hand holding on. The second story, balcony–– whatever got him farthest away from the round, ornate table where his mother sat drinking her problems away and his father, eyeing anything with a pair of breasts that walked by. He’d lost his date along the way, somewhere in the bathroom with a few of her friends, doing, whatever women did in the bathroom. It was a thing that was nothing less than a rock science conundrum to the likes of Elias Morrissey, and he didn’t care to try and figure it out tonight, so he wandered on, exploring the building, and now he seemed to have reached an end as well as a familiar face. He smiled, stepped up to the flowery railing, and faced the person, whisps of his blonde hair catching the breeze, “–– You’re not about to jump, are you?” The male capered, smirking, he leaned; glanced down, at the cement thirty feet below and then back up, “Because if you’re just bored, or something,“ His hand found the rail, and his top row of teeth momentarily sunk into his bottom lip, as he shook his head, ”that can be fixed–”
he hadn’t breached through to the party, rather had opted towards mingling outside the villa area with a drink in hand and a flask tucked into the coat of his jacket. he overlooked the balcony towards couples that mingled together and older parents who had come to purchase art for a good cause ── it all seemed like bullshit, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was grateful that his mother was a nobody now, or jealous that he would never have this sort of normal lifestyle. his head turned as a voice directed a question towards him, teasing, and he recognized it from anywhere. elias. with his hands tucked into the pockets of his black slacks, he scoffed before sneering at the male, running a hand through his hair, gelled back and styled. “can’t say the idea didn’t come to mind,” he excused, the sardonic and sarcastic tone to his voice like a ringing, aged bell in a tower. “but if you’re suggesting you’ve got better things for me than a quick jump that’ll make me the real star of the party, i think it’s only fair to share, morrissey.”
brvdgetcollins·:
a scoff left her lips followed by the rare hint of a smile that he could’ve only seen if he was paying close enough attention. an expression just for the way he talked. for the way he was. she hated it, or at least that’s what she told herself, yet she couldn’t seem to pull herself away. this nagging feeling pulling her in two different directions, sooner or later she knew she’d be too tired or numb to care about which way she ended up. “maybe,” she mused softly before taking another drag, still avoiding his gaze as if she had to think on such a question. what would she do with power? that thing she felt she didn’t have for years, or maybe ever. would she do something? or would she just stand there with her hands tied? she didn’t know. “to those who deserved it.” and there was a long list of people who did in her mind, but a lot of times she was all bark and no bite. tapping the excess ashes off her cigarette so that they fell over the balcony, it’s cherry burned brightly between them as she turned sharply in his direction. a cool breeze sent goosebumps trailing up her bare arms as she finally met his eyes, then eyeing his flask she reached out to grab it and took a sip. instead of giving it back, she held it hostage close to her chest just because she knew it’d probably annoy him. “oh is that so? didn’t realize you had such high aspirations.” eyes falling to the floor as she made a face, she bit into her bottom lip to try and hold her laugh. “well, if things work out for you up there, don’t expect me to get down on my knees for you.”
“to those who deserve it,” he repeated, let the words sink in like cherried wine against his tongue, aging, something he’d lap at with his tongue, desperate for more of it’s rich taste ── the power to hurt those who deserved it would always taste bitter sweet in his mouth. he thought of his dad and his mom, the way it used to make him wince at the thought of others with normal parents, how much he wanted them to hurt like he did, like he does. he thought of any asshole from high school. he thought of his professor in college. he thought of all the people that made him clench his fists in rage, how sometimes he’d toss and turn at night just thinking of all the ways he wanted to do better than them, be better than him ── restless nights shifting against porcelain sheets. his eyes averted from over the balcony towards her manicured fingers as she snatched the flask from him and took a swig of it, before protecting it close to her chest. “must not be paying attention then,” he bit back at her, despite the way she stifled amused laughter ── how part of the reaction reminded him far too well of many others who laughed in his face at the idea. he didn’t care much for their assumptions, he knew what he wanted. the hand closest to her reached for the burning cigarette, peeling it from her fingers before taking a drag of it, exhaling it into the cool air of the summer night. “trade ‘ya,” he teased, looking down at her before taking another puff of the tobacco. “when it works out, collins,” his hand snaked downwards towards the small of her middle, squeezing at the skin gently, “you’ll be practically begging me to get down on your knees for me.”
@nicholascvldwell @nichvlascaldwell
Jacob Elordi in Euphoria (2019—)
brvdgetcollins:
swaying slightly as she stepped out onto the balcony, bridget sighed in relief to find it practically deserted as the party dragged on beneath her inside the house and by the pool. it was late and she was tired. a seemingly unending wave of melancholy had started to wash over her. at a certain point she didn’t want to go home, but she didn’t necessarily want to be here, feeling alone in a crowd of people, either. so she reached in her bag for a cigarette, placing it between her lips as she cupped her palm around it to protect her lighter’s hazy flame. exhaling a silver stream of smoke against the violet sky, she felt a tall presence behind her. she could already take a guess at who it was as she’d seen him arrive earlier, doing her best to ignore him. but they were like two magnets, and while she always wanted to chose to repel it seemed like that choice was becoming harder and harder as summer went on. instead of addressing him or calling him out for following her up here, she kept her back turned as she took another drag. “think this is what god feels like? looking down on all of us, laughing, wondering if he should just put us all out of our misery?” @nicholascvldwell
it was a beacon of light in the dark of the party, bridget, although, like the moon, it dimmed at certain times, darker, possibly far too dark, almost hidden. he knew she could sense his presence, how he didn’t bother to carry himself any lighter than he normally did ── and that was it: nicholas caldwell had always had quite the presence about him, and he knew that, reveled in it, kept it clenched between palms as if it was the only thing he truly did have, maybe. he met her against the balcony, not bothering to glance over towards her, nonchalant, as his hand reached into the pocket of his jacket to pull out the flask: aged whiskey he had ordered from india a week back, dropping far too much money. “it’s god. he’s got all the power he’d ever want at his finger tips. he likes playing with his toys. wouldn’t you, if you had all that power?” he mused back dryly, as brown eyes peered over the balcony towards the floor, where people huddled and some made out intimately. “only option is up. i’ll build that staircase to heaven myself and drag the damn bastard off of his golden throne,” he spoke truthfully, thinking what a life he’d have, maybe, if he had it all. “he’s simply warming up my seat.”
trevhanson:
Why did he even bother? Trev’s chin lifted, regarding Nicholas with cool indifference. He was flanked by a girl, by whom he could judge by her glassy eyes and bovine expression that she were definitely not his own type; but it seemed as though the other male wasn’t above using a human being as a prop. Picking fights wasn’t characteristic of his behaviour, not when there was a perfectly good game of beer pong to be won, or when his high cheekbones looked this good without the beginnings of a bruise. He’d chalk it up to pent up annoyance; words left unsaid tended to fester, Trev wanted to take it out on someone.
“You look fucking stupid.” It was stupid, this whole thing was stupid; but his voice raised purposefully and now he had to act upon it. His hand gestured towards the way the other man postured himself, including the brunette that leaned against him as though she required him to remain upright. “Is twenty-ten Entourage your every day, or just your summer flex?”
the words hit, like a jab at a wall of bricks, barely making a dent in the architecture before resulting in a small scoff, priceless, from the brunette. “i look fucking stupid?” he repeated in dismay ── where the shorter male had gotten all of his gusto and sudden confidence from bemused him and had his entire attention faltering from old friends he had been catching up with and the female that lingered on his arm. “you just get blue balled by some chick and need somewhere to feed all that pent up energy at?” his deep voice shot back, careless, before he was unwrapping his arm from the brunette and ushering her off his body, clad in a white shirt that hung off his shoulders like he was a greek god. “because last time i checked, i didn’t care for people’s opinions who i didn’t even know the name of,” he reminded him, tongue pressing up to the roof of his mouth as a small crowd had drawn their eyes towards the pair, fighting it out like boys. “specially not pretty fuckin’ boys like you.”
nadiateymouri·:
Nadia opened her mouth to speak, there was always a pause that stretched too long between words and her conjuring up something good to say but before she could say anything at all, he had taken her cup and swapped it out for something better. “I didn’t want to be rude and say no,” she said, swirling his cup in her hand, “He seemed really proud of the mix.” Dark eyes glanced down into the drink that he had given her and she took a cautious sip of it. The tequila sat on her tongue a minute too long and her nose wrinkled, skewing her features as she hastily swallowed. His reaction was comical and she tried to force a smile, tipping her chin up to give him a better look. He was tall, the sort of height that gave a person presence in a room— maybe a certain amount of power, as well. Nadia, despite her best efforts, felt slightly ill at ease, clutching the cup a little tighter. He also had a measure of confidence that was foreign to the brunette, it stuck to his skin like a pheromone, and it showed in the way that he spoke. There was no questions, simply an offer that she couldn’t refuse or duck out of. She scrambled to conjure up words, and the syllables ran into each other nervously. “How about a vodka cranberry?” It was the first thing that came to mind, and she regretted it as soon as she said it, hoping he wouldn’t retort back with something about how basic it was.
he smiled, flashing pearly whites he had taken great care of, having whitened and cleaned often, before shaking his head. “that, baby..” he began, before pressing his index finger to boop the skin at her nose, “is where you go very wrong.” she took a curious sip of his drink and her nose wrinkled up, nothing but straight alcohol and a bit of lime to nurse the burn. “you can always say no. anytime. to anyone. it’s actually.. pretty fucking easy,” he lectured her, amused at her reaction towards his mix, peering down at her, noticing the way she adjusted herself to take in more of his face and recognize the inches he had in comparison to her own height. he plucked his drink back from her, throwing the rest of it back and swallowing it down, wiping at a small bit that threatened to spill past his lips, nodding. “vodka and cranberry for the lady it is,” he concurred, before sliding a wide hand towards the small of her back, letting her step in front of him but ultimately leading the way, straight towards the tiled counter of the kitchen.
upon greeting with six various bottles of alcohol and juices that had been spread over the table for anyone’s picking, hands found the vodka and the shaker, rinsing it at the sink under cold water. “the trick is the shaker. Ice. cranberry juice. vodka. hint of lime, fuckin’ bars always leave it out, you know? lazy fuckers,” he spoke over his shoulder despite his concentration towards the drink, pouring in a bit more vodka, the amount he’d like, before adding lime juice, cranberry juice, and the ice. his shoulders moved, tensed up, squeezed together as he shook the drink, an action his father had taught him as a child when he curiously asked how he made those drinks he always sipped on. “here,” he offered her it, poured the crushed ice and pink colored drink into her own cup, before pouring himself three more shots of tequila into his own cup with a bit of the lime. “you here alone?”
trevhanson·:
@nicholascvldwell
There was someone at the party that was taller than him. Trev glanced up from his game of beer pong, rolling the ball between his fingers as the other male walked in. Already, he resented him– with his broad shoulders, shit eating grin, and a head that seemed too small for the rest of his body. Green eyes narrowed, but he took his shot, feigning disinterest. It pinged off the side of a red cup, falling into the mouth of another with a splash. He patted Lee’s shoulder, murmuring something about how the game was all hers now.
Curiosity killed the cat, but Trev kept his under wraps, eyeing the other male as he made his rounds through the party. This was Nicholas Caldwell, he realized, remembering the nasty rumours that had swirled around about his family. People like that didn’t just find their place in society now, Trev mused, sipping at another drink. He supposed that everything the other male had was marred with claw marks. It would have been admirable if it wasn’t for the way that Nicholas’ acted; his vibe was easily written off as sleazy. Finally, he came around and Trev’s chin lifted, meeting his gaze cooly, trying to take a page out of Ari’s book with his remark. “What are you looking at?”
the atmosphere of the party had him buzzing. girls flocked around him and greeted him while other familiar friends and males exchanged words with him over their red cups. he caught wind of a pair of eyes, green, lifting up and seeking out his, rolling over his profile, a few times as he ignored it. they can’t be you but they want to be like you. his eyes told what many had in previous years where he stood tall, powerful ── how he knew girls wanted him and guys wanted to be him ── it was a confidence, his poise, maybe just his lack-of-care attitude that drew them in. he slung an arm around a girl to greet her, peering down at her cup before feeling eyes on him again. his gaze lingered and sought out the beer pong area, the makeshift table and the game that he used to reign champion over in his high school days.
he let out a laugh, let it ring in his ears for a moment as he turned to look at the female, a brunette, who he had on his arm, before eyeing back down at the male, who was shorter an inch or two. “what the fuck are you getting big about?” he piped up, and the female giggled ── it was a familiar voice, that high-pitched laughter that almost oogled, begged him and prodded at his side in a way of saying ‘you’re funny, you’re cool, give me your attention.’
Casablanca (1942) dir. Michael Curtiz
nadiateymouri:
@nichvlascaldwell
Lee had said something about showing up to this party together, but as the evening had begun to progress, the other girl’s belated messages seemed to indicate that she was late– or possibly not even going to come at all. Nadia had almost been excited for it, her top had been borrowed (was it Ivy’s or Cori’s?) and it clung to her torso: black and glittery, showing off far more midriff than she had originally been comfortable with. Now, she cradled a drink in her hand and sipped at it, desperate to lose the hard edge that anxiety had cut into the evening. For now, the brunette was glued to the wall, glancing down at her phone every few minutes and fiddling with loose curls that framed her face. She wanted to shrink into herself, but instead she forced another mouthful of the jungle juice, wincing as she swallowed. She’d promised herself the best summer of her life, and Nadia straightened her spine, willing someone to come and talk to her so that she could attempt to manifest that.
He had been at the party for twenty minutes, tops, and had made eyes with one of the blondes that stood by the pool, green eyes blinking an invitation over, beckoning him to sashay his way over coolly before grabbing them both drinks. The conversation was short, like it always was, before they had excused themselves over to the side of the house, his hand hiked up against the side of her thigh as she let out noises of affirmation as his lips found tempting skin, her neck, biting, nipping graciously. “Sydney!” a girl’s voice, shrill, sounded from behind them, before she was being whisked away in a group of girls that seemed to be in a rush, and his moment was depleted, fleeting, going — gone. He shrugged it off, let his broad shoulders lift and fall, just to let his feet carry himself over towards a female that seemed lonesome. He recognized the face, but he couldn’t attach a name to it, not that he had interacted with her before. He approached her, peered down into the red cup and quickly at the light that reflected off the glittery top, all too captivating of his attention. “That jungle juice shit is pretty bad. Pretty sure one of those guys that sits on the bench for the basketball team makes it in his garage or something and brings it everytime, so,” he offered his drink, straight tequila with a bit of lime squeezed in, a drink he rushed to make and didn’t quite care to perfect, and traded it with hers as he helped himself to a sip. He winced, faked disgust, and tossed the remnants of the drink into the shrub besides them, “Definitely tastes like some garage-made shit.” He waited for her to take a small sip of his drink, eyes seeking out the kitchen where the alcohol was, where he had first stopped when he came twenty minutes ago. “Let me make you a drink. No garage shit. Organic. Homemade. Fresh squeezed. Vegan. Whatever tickles your fancy. Think of it as the Costco experience.”
i’m literally just reposting this so i can have this here for reference pls don’t yell at me aksdlksaldklasdkl
☁☼☁( ****. jacob elordi. cismale. twenty two. ) welcome back to your summer paradise, NICHOLAS ‘NICK’ CALDWELL we were wondering when you’d finally show up! the town’s really missed how STEADFAST you are, even if you can be a bit UNHINGED at times. we hear back home they call you the THE WOLF OF WALL STREET, makes sense considering you remind everyone of POURING AN ENTIRE BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE OVER THE SIDE OF A YACHT, ROLLED DOLLAR BILLS AND LINES OF COKE, CLENCHED FISTS, AND TWO GIRLS ON HIS ARMS AT THE PARTY. [fiona/19/pst/she/her] ☁☼☁
ok so i’m really lazy this time around to put effort into this so… bear w me thanks lmao
so yea his father runs a very PRESTIGIOUS important business firm… lots of employees.. pitched ideas 24/7.. etc
his dad n mom met at a nightclub where they eventually ended up falling in love, got pregnant, n rushed into marriage very stupidly!
his mom ended up kind of losing her mind after she had nicholas…. she started drinking more and eventually ended up fucking around eight guys at her dad’s firm and got caught for it!
this caused some issues lmao and her dad got violent w her, nick ended up seeing this and in his household it was expressed very clearly from his father that this was how love worked sometimes and that the woman was to ~know her place~
his company at this time was failing, there was lots of rumors of fraud and a few investigations there were going on at the time, and he was struggling but wouldn’t admit it to his family much less nicholas because he was taught that men don’t show weakness!
as one last hoorah his mom fucked his dad’s brother AT THEIR HOUSE with nick as a child in the other room hearing it just for his dad to come home n find them!
his dad basically beat the shit out of his brother so badly he was hospitalized, his mom had a broken arm from being thrown, and it was a big fucking mess that spanned over a few days.. he has memories that he represses of his uncle’s bloody, bruised face and his mom quiet the entire time, laughing sadly every once in a while
his dad ended up killing himself out of embarrassment and guilt that his company was failing and he was the cause behind it and because his own wife couldn’t even love him.. nick was 10 when this happened
his mom is.. basically a mess and he is ashamed of her so he doesn’t talk about her much
now he went on to columbia business school to pursue business and eventually open up his own.. he had lots of dreams to follow in his father’s footsteps mostly to prove something to him but also because he wanted to make a name for himself
regardless of that he’s kind of a mess.. big party boy.. entitled rich kid.. doesn’t address emotions or issues truly.. doesn’t have too many friends that TRULY know him.. big cocky ‘i’m the shit’ attitude when he isn’t!
wanted connections: fwb, childhood friends, enemies (gimme), party friends, good influence, etc