nickydalton-blog

[nickydalton-blog]

if you’re not happy with what you’re doing, do anything to change what you’re doing.

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a short description of dana scully’s life

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daveyventura:

When: Feb. 1 Where: Capitale Who: Open!

The place looked cool, there was no denying that. It was far and away the swankiest event he’d ever attended, even if he still wasn’t entirely sure what they were celebrating. He’d been told. More than once. By multiple people. And he’d listened – really he had. Mostly he had. Truthfully, every time someone explained it to him Davey got distracted by the knowledge that the Unseelie would be there. It set him on edge, made the dim lighting ominous rather than fanciful. Davey lifted a hand and fiddled with the strap on his backwards Yankees cap – as if he wouldn’t wear it just because he was also wearing a button-up and a blazer, fancy party or not – and made a beeline to the bar. If he was going to enjoy this thing at all, he needed to loosen up some. And find some friendly faces before he got stuck near any unfriendly ones. Once he was there he picked up a glass – and instantly pulled a face as he looked down and saw it was full of lumpy white…something. “What the hell? Are we supposed to drink this?”

Fucking Yankees ball cap. What an idiot. What an absolutely ridiculous idiot.

Nickel stalked closer with unwavering balance, the sway of his hips a slow thing. It was like he was a flame, like he was mimicking all the candles around him as he grinned at the bartender and ordered his drink. He tried to ignore the fact that Davey was next to him, but at his words, Nicky couldn’t help scoffing. Nickel offered the bartender a wink as his drink was slid to him, and when he turned, his eyes were completely cold.

The last time they’d spoken, David Ventura had accused him of simply using him to get what he wanted in the big scheme of things, just like Bette had been used. Nicky dismissively slid his eyes down Davey’s front, shaking his head as he threw back his shot all in one go. He was a vision, as usual, long lines and just enough skin bared to make it almost indecent. When Nickel lowered his glass, his smile was sharp enough to cut. “You really don’t know anything, do you?” Facades and masks, lies built on lies. This is what the world thinks of you. This is all they’ll see. So give it to them ten fold and don’t apologize.

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isabellasbyline:

when: 10.50 pm where: capitale, imbolc who: open to all

In a $7 dress expertly paired with $300 shoes, Isabella double-checked the password she needed to get into, in the words of Taylor the woo-girl from the mailroom, a totally poppin’ party. Slipping her phone in her clutch as she got up to the front of the line, she flashed the guy at the door a confident smile, paired with the phrase Wrought and Rotten.

Stepping inside, she confirmed that the event was absolutely worth squeezing into her favorite little black dress for. Sexy and soaked in red, the crowd seemed to thrum with activity, excitement, and a little something she couldn’t quite place her finger on. That was to say nothing of the tantalizing assortment of food and alcohol lined up against the back table. “God, can you believe that actually worked?” she muttered to a nearby party-goer, unable to take her eyes away from the decor. “Wild. Like, are we at all concerned this might be a Jonestown situation?”

“Isabella, you look more than a little lost right now, honey.” Friendly grace, a smile so genuine that it could almost crack at the edges. Oh, how she annoyed him. He’d like to see her end up in the human’s version of hell, poked by pitchforks for eternity while people called her Izzy. Nickel swung around in front of her, giving her a playful wink. “Don’t worry, the candles are well under control. You do look wonderful, by the way.”

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detalbright:

date: February 1st. time: 6:15 pm. open: All y’all.

Vance had a feeling of bad in the pit of his stomach. He knew part of it could be accredited to how many people walked their dogs in the evening, but the rest was the sheer amount of familiar faces that slipped into the Capitale. Not too close and just close enough, he observed. A notebook propped on his knee marked the party-goers every now and then with lazy movements. Some made his lips twitch up. Others…He had a bad feeling and for better or worse, he didn’t run from those. His eyes picked up behind his glasses as he listened to the street.

Wrought and rotten, huh? He could work with that.

Hair mussed with product he used all but twice in his lifetime, he took his time with the Capitale entrance. He stayed leaned against the wall with his hands in his jacket pockets for a good half hour when he returned. Surety before bravery. In short, he didn’t want to look like a jackass. When he heard it a third, a fourth time, he pushed off and walked with complete surety. The party was in New York and it was his city, why couldn’t he be there?

The detective said the words in a voice that was a modicum livelier than his typical tone and he was allowed in, the person at the door shooting him a smile that seemed to know something. Well enough, he knew things too. The need to know more brought him to the Capitale in the room full of a thousand faces that likely had answers. The surety that walked in with him abandoned him for the bar as soon as the door shut. He took on a look of bemusement. That bad feeling laughed.

…Alright.

It was fine. He wanted to say he walked into a renaissance fair, but he saw what everyone else was wearing. Definitely hadn’t. He diverted his attention from the startling amount of fire that certainly went against regulation in an event hall and looked toward brighter horizons. Parties had punch bowls. Booze. Something. He heard murmurs of whiskey and took to the bar like he had heard the divine word. It was fine, just another job. The thought eased him and so did the chill of whisky in his hand. A lazy smile of confidence followed his first, small sip and he slipped a hand into his pocket as he moved.

“Gotta hand it to whoever did the catering,“ he said as the space beside him filled. “They really went all out for this. How many cheeses are there anyway, you think?”

Oh no. There weren’t many humans that Nicky could honestly say he worried about in this big world of their’s. Most of them chose this life, and if they didn’t, then it had most likely been chosen for them. That’s how things worked. He worried for Leesy, with her soft heart so full of love, too good for the game she was playing. He worried for Benji, his baby brother who was destined for this world, even if that scared the shit out of the fire fey. Deep down, he worried for Davey, but he bit his tongue on that thought and moved on.

But Vance kept stumbling into things and it made Nicky want to scream. What an idiot, too good for this damn world, a hero with a tired heart.

Nickel wanted to strangle him for how good he looked. He wanted to strangle him for not keeping his nose out of places where it didn’t belong. Vance wasn’t like Isabella. Isabella would deserve what she got when his world swallowed her whole. He’d push her right into the flames if given the chance. But Vance was safety, went out of way to worry about someone who should’ve just been another face on the streets.

He couldn’t give himself away. It was a dangerous dance, and he couldn’t miss a step.

“You would be the one to talk about cheeses when you’ve got a work of art beside you,” Nicky said, voice quiet and husky. A candle danced in front of them, casting strange lights and shadows across his face, catching on his highlight and the gloss of his lips. He looked down at Vance with one arched brow, leaning against the bar and leaving the two of them too close. “I can guarantee you weren’t invited to this party, as good as you look. What are you doing here?”

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hazyhazel:

When: February 1 Where: Capitale OPEN

Hazel loved a good party, even if this one was somewhat fancier than what she was used typically used to. Despite years of knowing she belonged in the fey world, this all seemed a bit to fantastical to be real. Even the light danced as the movement of air made the flames shiver. She was absolutely certain they were violating fire codes, but she didn’t care at all. 

“I don’t know who’s in charge of the decorating committee, but they deserve a raise. This is beautiful, don’t you think?” she said, smiling. It was nice to see everyone together and getting along, hopefully that would last. 

“Deserving a raise is an understatement. Convincing the city to let them use all the candles had to take a bit of magic, don’t you think?” He couldn’t help adopting her tone, teasing just a little bit at the wonder about her. So charming, she was. Nicky carefully checked his lipstick in his phone’s camera before he looked down at Hazel properly. Technically, the two of them probably weren’t supposed to be friends. It was laughable to think that Hazel could be a spy, but they were supposed to keep their guards up.

Somehow, around Hazel, he never could manage that.

“Are you enjoying this so far, Haze?”

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thewinteress:

When: Feb. 1 Where: Capitale Who: Open!

Frost laughed on time as she spun, keeping her balance in heels. She didn’t know who her partner was, only that she had seen him at the Rookery a couple of the times and was an Unseelie so she allowed it. He pulled her close in vain for she stepped back once more, her fingers pulling away. In truth, she was enjoying the celebrations even if she had been pulled into dance almost immediately. Imbolc had always been a beautiful holiday, the hundreds of candles casting an ethereal glow on the Fey spinning beneath them. She even stomached the fact that she was going to have to interact with the Seelie - although her skin crawled just a little bit. Still, she was determined to put on a good show for everyone watching and that included dancing with whomever her partner was. However, as she started back toward her partner, someone else’s hand grabbed her, pulling her away from her old partner and into the arms of someone new. 

Candle flames tickled all around him, leaving goosebumps all across his skin every time he thought to linger on one. He could hear whispered conversations, laughter, kisses shared, promises made. He felt like he was coming alive, dancing in shadows, passed from partner to partner as their world spun on. It was all too easy to pick out his people versus the Seelie, and the humans were even more obvious. Cute little things, playing a game they didn’t even know. His heels left him towering over most, if not all of those he ended up dancing with, and Frost was the no exception to that. Nickel looked down at her with a quirked brow, a small smile curling at the edges of his lips. “You looked like you were having fun with him. Should I spin you back?”

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elise-senfuit:

date: feb 1st  time: 7pm open: for ALL ( hehe ) 

Despite the splendor and crowd, Elise felt … awkward. It had been a long time since she had attended a grand event, and unfortunately, it only brought back memories of home. Being dragged out with her siblings, hiding away in corners of lavish parties, spying on drunk grownups while giggling away with a small group of friends ( she shook her head, trying to rid the memories entirely ). 

Thanking the bartender, she gulped down her drink instead, hoping that a little alcohol would ease her thoughts. 

Ah, there was no party quite like a fey party, and even a regular fey party had nothing on a party for one of their holidays. Nickel was already feeling warm, having taken to the dance floor early on. He’d jump the fire later, an old habit since he’d first been introduced to Imbolc. It wasn’t as if purity would really help him now, but maybe he was a little more superstitious than he let on. Nickel’s original plan had had nothing to do with properly mingling, and instead had everything to do with losing himself in the grind of bodies.

Of course he’d changed his mind though, attention starved fiend that he was, and swerved immediately towards a familiar face when he found it. He slipped an arm around Elise’s shoulders, towering even further above her than he normally did in the five inch heels he wore.

“Leesy,” he started, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “You look ravishing. It’s almost enough to turn a man. Do you think we could find a nice room where you can kiss me senseless?”

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a little smile at the edges of his lips, a highlight that catches when his cheek turns and illuminates him like a work of art. he’s wearing that perfectly crafted teasing shyness tonight, paired with soft pink lips and lashes that have been curled to lushness.

looks like a peach, wanna take a bite?

[nickydalton-blog]

Nickel is longing. Pleasure-seeking, hedonistic, irresponsible, and sometimes just entirely a mess. He longs for fun and for life and for light, he longs for something to stoke the fire in him. He longs for things that will make life more enjoyable. He’s going to live a very long time after all, and he wants to have fun while he can. It’s not as if he’s filled with nothing. It’s not as if he’s empty, trying to patch some hole in himself. If anything, Nicky is too full. He’s the feeling that you get sometimes when a fire roars up in front of you, the way your heart will leap up into your throat. He’s the way that it feels to get that wing on your eyeliner absolutely perfect on the first try and to match it on the other side. He’s flirty and he’s fun. He’s constantly casually touching those around him, and he’s always got that little lazy grin on his face.

In so many ways, he’s really not a lazy fey. His movements are languid and his smile is slow, but just because he shirks his human responsibilities and fucks off at work doesn’t mean he’s lazy. He just lives his life in a different lane than most people.

Nickel is the feeling of spinning in the first snow of the year and laughing as it falls down around you. Nickel is the feeling of warm sun on your bare back and a lover slowly curling closer to you. He’s heady and he’s warm and he’s still a soldier in the same way. He’s sharp-eyed and he can be cold. He is a spy, he is a handler. He does his job for the Queen well. But inevitably, he is caught between the two sides of himself. He’s the perfect soldier in that he will do his job and stare his father down with ice cold eyes and feel the tickle of a candle flame down his back and not flinch because this is what he was supposed to do. But he’s such a mess when those candle flames aren’t reaching out to him and he spins in the snow and laughs and wears ripped fishnets under jean shorts with an open flannel and sips elixirs until the world fades and he loves like nothing else in the world.

Nickel is painfully human and completely fey. He’s a fuck up and he’s a mess at times. He’s an ass. He rolls his shoulders too quick. He laughs too loud. He has this wonderful, beautiful soul and it can be incredibly infectious to be around him. When you meet him, you want to know more. He has a heart full of love, but it’s carefully hidden and kept close.

Nickel memorizes heartbeats. When he used to curl up against his mother’s chest or his father would let him rest his head against his shoulder to read him to sleep, his fingers would inevitably start to tap out the beats of their hearts. Now, Benji’s heartbeat is the most comforting to him, and it’s often the one that he ends up tapping without even realizing. When the world is spinning and the elixirs are in his veins and he’s staring at the stars, it is always that beat that brings him back. Benji is the only thing that brings him back every single time without fail.

When Nickel looks at his father now, he sees a job, and less so the father figure that he’d once known. He’s not sure when the disconnect happened, but he had never wanted the legacy that came with being a Dalton. He didn’t want to be responsible, not to the human world that would never really accept him if they knew the truth. And after he stepped into the role of Handler, his relationship with his father got even more strained. But Nickel still loves his mother dearly, and though Benji is still the most important thing in the world to him, his mother makes him feel so much less like he has no place in the world and reminds him that he isn’t entirely lost. Maybe he’s a disappointment and maybe he’ll never be his sterling little brother, but his mother still smiles at him when he walks through her door and he loves her fiercely for it.

There is always a single rose gold ring on his left thumb, and it’s the only accessory that never changes without fail. It is also the only thing that he never lets another person touch, the most personal item that anyone could ever associate with the hedonistic fey. It was a gift from a lover he picked up when he was only a teenager, when the very first boy he thought he truly loved tried to promise him they’d always be together. That boy died in a car crash only a few months later, but Nicky never forgot how that night made him feel. Maybe that’s what he’s been chasing all this time—the feeling of being loved so completely that it felt like the world was in the palm of his hands. But to even think of that would be ridiculous, and so the ring stays and its story remains untold.

Nicky hates peanut butter with a vicious passion. The taste, texture, smell, all of it just immediately pisses him off and makes him start to mutter. Peanuts are fine, and he can stand to eat it only when it is wrapped in chocolate and labeled as a Reese’s, thanks.

Nickel has always been incredibly good at reading people. He learned body language early, from the parties his father hosted and the world that he lived in. Once he was introduced to the world of the fey, however, that little skill was honed into something sharper. His smile might be lazy and he may look bored, but his eyes are sharp and he sees right through you.

One of the memories he holds the dearest is of he and Benjamin, sitting outside on a family trip on a very clear night, so clear that the stars seemed overwhelmingly close. And with him almost eighteen and Benji at a tender nine years old, they sat and counted stars and Nicky shared all the stories he could think of from his classes and the few books he’d read and some that he’d simply made up all on his own.  

His middle name is Llewellyn, a family name from his mother’s side. When he was younger, she always called him Nicky Lew, and sometimes there’s a private ache inside of him for those days, but he’ll never speak of it.

Nickel considers Tyler another member of the family, and a much more fun one than some of the rest of the bunch. He’s still nervous about the boy, however, because it’s his job to guide Benji and he’s worried that Tyler may drag him into a hole that Nicky couldn’t save him from. He’s seen how Benji looks at Tyler after all, and he knows what he’s done for love in the past. He doesn’t want Tyler to fuck his brother over in any way.

Nicky has multiple piercings. The first he ever got was a tongue piercing, and it quickly spiraled from there. He now has an industrial piercing in his right ear, two lobe piercings on his right, three lobe piercings in his left, and the helix done on his left as well. His left nipple is pierced, and he’s been highly considering genital piercings because the boy is extra.

Nickel usually smells like spice and vanilla.

[nickydalton-blog]

WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?

BOLD ANY WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. ITALICIZE WHAT THEY LIKE. REPOST OR REBLOG FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST

nickel, spinning in the snow until you get dizzy —

fire. ice. water. air. earth. light. darkness. wind. waves. lightning. claws. fangs. wings. gold. diamonds. silver. steel. leaves. grass. trees. roses. lilies. daises. metal. rust. rain. snow. lace. silk. cotton. sun. moon. stars. blood. dirt. sugar. salt. lavender. foxglove. glass. wood. paper. wool. fur. smoke. ash. ocean. bruises. scars. spices. paint. charcoal. wine. liquor. sweat. dust. bare feet. canine. feline. coffee. tea. books. scratches. petals. thorns. hay. glitter. heat. warmth. cold. steam. frost. candles. sword. dagger. staff. arrow. hammer. shield. gun. spikes. sand. roots. feathers. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. herbs. clay. stone. brick. lions. wolves. foxes. ravens. baby animals. mountains. mirrors. surfboards. dream-catchers. leather. black. white. red. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink.

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± ♥

[ p r i v a t e ]

Send me ± for a headcanon about our characters

music playing from his phone, upbeat and from whatever top forty list is out this week. he hums along to it as he sweeps highlighter along her cheeks, her lashes dark just above the golden pop of color. he grins, and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. she giggles, and he tuts before she can open her eyes. “you’re going to make me mess up this makeup, baby. just hold on a minute.” they aren’t going anywhere special, or going anywhere fast. this is simply a moment between friends, where he can steady his hands and his breath and make art come alive on her face, and she can trust him with her eyes closed and her back exposed.

they’re friends.

Send me ♥ for how my character feels about yours

“Elise? You’re asking me how I feel about the sweetest girl in the world?” Nickel snorted. She was sunshine and bells. She was the flower crowns at Bealtaine and the laughter of kids skipping through the flames. She was everything without ever being his, and she was the player he was the most afraid for. Out of all of them, she was the player he would do anything to help. “I adore her. Absolutely, 1000000%. Without a doubt.”

[nickydalton-blog]

there’s a drumming noise inside my head that starts when you’re around i swear that you could hear it it makes such an almighty sound

drumming song // florence + the machine

there’s a drumming noise inside my head that starts when you’re around i swear that you could hear it it makes such an almighty sound

drumming song // florence + the machine

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what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone

gaaaaaaayzel

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

bonus: how did they get this picture?

they’re friends?? nicky asked her to smile for a picture and she did it automatically and looked almost cuter than him doing it. changeling buds for life.

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone

everyone is gay by a great big world

my muse’s last text to your muse

nicholas dalton to gaaaaaaayzel: are you still coming by tonight?

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what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone

zinnia

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

bonus: how did they get this picture?

they’re snapchat buds.

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone

drop that by jacob plant

my muse’s last text to your muse

nicholas dalton to zinnia: hey, you gonna be out this weekend? wanted to know if i’d see you at the clubs

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what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone

don’t call me when you’re drunk nicky, don’t fucking do it. (seelie idiot)

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

bonus: how did they get this picture?

a beach trip a month or so into their relationship. they did everything too fast, after all. but this picture was too cute to delete, and nicky has convinced himself that it’s because of the dog. 

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone

siren noises. (it used to be dancing in the dark by rihanna)

my muse’s last text to your muse

nicholas dalton to don’t call me when you’re drunk nicky, don’t fucking do it. (seelie idiot): next time you come to the rookery, stay away from hyacinth or i’ll kick you in the face - message has not been sent