... who are you?

Happily ever after doesn’t appear to be in the cards for [THE CATAPILLER] from [ALICE IN WONDERLAND] or should I call them [HAYDEN BARNES]. I’ve seen them walking around town posing as a [OWNER OF TITS, CLITS & BONG HITS] but I know the truth. It’s a shame really. I’ve heard they’re very [LOYAL & PROTECTIVE] but I always imagined them [AGGRESIVE & MORALLY FUCKED UP] This new look for them [LEATHER JACKETS, BANDAGED KNUCKLES AND WHISKEY] really ruins my childhood imagine.

[statuscondition]

[osvaldrps-archived]

paul wesley in tell me a story  //  by clicking the link  [ HERE ]  you will find #134 gifs, all made by me from scratch. you can use/edit them to your liking, just credit me where credit’s due. and please reblog the post if you find these helpful.

[thehaydenbarnes]

themillerson​:

“Jesus…” Nelson said, rubbing napkins against the inside thigh on his pants. A dark stain had spread down them where some asshole had spilled his drink then just walked off. The dangers of being small-statured and “just a kid” in a place like this. Even his best glare was ignorable from dudes who had half a foot on him. All he could think about was how the stain was going to ruin of his few good pairs of pants. “That’s gonna stain for sure,” he said dejectedly, continuing to empty the nearby napkin holder of everything it contained.

He only idly noticed a person reaching for the napkins, like a normal human would. “Sorry,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “Some asshole uh…spilled…a bit.” He offered the wad of napkins at the stranger, partially used. “If you still want ‘em, or need ‘em. I don’t think this is gonna get any better even if I use every napkin in the joint.” Nelson sighed, grabbing his coke and taking a drink. He was “too young” to order alcohol legally, so it was all soda thus far. The only liquor he’d get tonight was now running down his left thigh.

Hayden was working his usual shift in his bar. He liked to have a hands-on approach when it came to Tits, Clits & Bong Hits... Well, actually, he liked to have that kind of approach with everything he did in life. It fed his curious nature and owning a hookah bar in the middle of Fabletown fed that part of him quite nicely. There was always something going on, always new gossip, always new people to get to know. Though, the past few years had not been without their struggle... The curfew on the town had sucked away some of his business in the later hours of the night and therefore also taken away his fun too. This was perhaps why he had fallen so easily into Ainsley’s hands... She was the polar opposite of boring. 

Still though, tonight, the bar was doing well and he had just finished serving up a round of drinks to some ladies as he caught the commotion out of the corner of his eye. Opening a tab for the customers he just served, he then turned his attention to the poor young man who had fallen victim to a bar’s number one accident. He was very clearly underage, but TCBH was very lax when it came to ID’ing... The way Hayden saw it, he made more money by not ID’ing than he’d have to pay out in a fine if he got caught. It was all very hush hush though. 

“No, I don’t need them,” Hayden replied calmly as he leaned over the bar to look at the damage. “Bicarb of soda, a little white wine vinegar... Rub it in and leave it overnight then wash it on a real hot cycle for as long as the machine will run. It should come out.” Why did Hayden know this? Well, surely if that tactic got blood out of his clothes it would get Cherry liquor out of his. “Though, are you planning on staying here for longer than that one-- coca-cola? Because some of my employees keep changes of clothes out the back. We can see if any of them will fit you so you don’t look like you’ve started pissing blood... Unless of course, you want that look... Then, by all means, feel free to stick around in them.”.

[annabelledexterjones]

“I will not have you without the darkness that hides within you. I will not let you have me without the madness that makes me. If our demons cannot dance, neither can we.”

— Nikita Gill 

[blakelivey-deactivated20211026]

Before it would have been seen as ungentlemanly to, er, to ask a public figure questions about personal matters - or business affairs -

[thehaydenbarnes]

ainsleyharterp​:

Hunger

@thehaydenbarnes​

She’d grown bored of people under less exacerbating circumstances. Kicked them to the curb because they stopped being fun playmates, stopped being exhilarating. Oh watching Hayden try to remove himself, the way his jaw would clench and he’d lean towards a blood stained scene like he was starving and inhaling the scent of a five course meal, was entertaining at first. For a week, two maybe. Not that she hated the way he put his hands on her afterward, angry, like he was mad she didn’t push him into the fray and mad she’d opened this pandora’s box inside him all at the same time.

“Hayden?” Her voice echoed against high church ceilings, stained glass windows, empty pews. She kept finding him here, begging for salvation, she supposed. He’d left the Casino today, before the first bone had even been broken. Such a shame. Such wasted potential. She could see the hunger under his skin even now, as she spotted him at the far left of the church. “Has anyone answered you yet?’ The question lacks compassion, she has no empathy for his brooding little existential crisis. Hayden is a masterpiece just two paint strokes from being complete and she needs those final splashes of color to complete him, to make him hers. “Have your prayers been answered? Have your hungers been sated and your thirsts been quenched?” He smells of nicotine and danger, Ainsley’s heels clicking against the floor as she hiked the skirt of her red dress up, gripped his shoulders and claimed a far better seat in his lap.

“I’m starting to think you like hanging with the idea of God more than you do playing with me.” Her lips hover, inches, breath gusting out, her hands smoothing down his chest. “Is that what I’m too assume, Mr. Barnes? You don’t want to play anymore?”

It had been two weeks since he had gone too far. Pushed too hard. He had been ensnared by Ainsley Harte months ago now, trapped in her web and at first, there was a comfort in it. She offered him a way out of his constant boredom, gave him an opportunity to really get to know people. There was no way of someone not answering his pestering questions when they were tied to a chair, or chained to a wall, or hanging from the ceiling by their ankles. If they did, well, the tape that had been almost a permanent fixture around his knuckles since the two met wasn’t there because he just asked for answers politely. But, he had never wanted to kill someone... At least, not until it happened. Two weeks ago, he killed a man... He killed for Ainsley, because of Ainsley and now... Now he was trying to feel an ounce of remorse and he couldn’t. 

Today had been the funeral of said man, the cheater from Atrium who only ever deserved a few broken bones but has now been laid to rest in a firey pit. The family left distraught. Ruined. Hayden knew he should have stayed away, but earlier in the day he had watched on from outside the church. Watched them all cry for their loved one in hopes it would ignite the blame he was desperate to feel. The regret. But... It just felt so forced and fake. It’s why he went straight to the casino, why he went downstairs. Watching on as others exercised the level of restraint he couldn’t... He wanted to get involved again. So, he was stuck in this loop of wanting to pay for taking another life... And wanting to do it again.

He marched out of the casino, crossing through the streets and coming back to the same place he was earlier today. The church. It was empty, only a few candles from the evening service still lit in the corner, almost all of the lights were out except the ones that lit the first few rows and the alter. Hayden sat just outside of where the light touched, a metaphor of sorts if you think about it. If he stayed here long enough, perhaps the lights would switch on above him... Perhaps the darkness would go away. Did he even want that? Did he even deserve that?

His thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable tones of Ainsley Harte. His entire body tensed, teeth ground together. If he couldn’t blame himself, he could blame her. He could deflect to her. She asks those questions, but she doesn’t wish for answers, doesn’t care for them. He can tell as much from the way her tone doesn’t so much as change pitch. He continues to stare ahead. Silent. Eyes dead, and yet full of FIRE. He pretends to ignore her until he can’t because she is over his lap. 

His breathing hitches as finally, he blinks his attention to the woman, eyes locking into hers. He stays silent for another few moments. “You are sick,” he breathes out. “Talking about taking-- taking another man’s life like it’s some game like there isn’t going to be consequences for that at some point... What if it was you?” His hand comes up to her jaw, taking it in a vicelike grip. “What if it’s you I go too hard with next... Would it still be a game to you, Ainsley fucking Harte?” 

[thehaydenbarnes]

dxathamongus​:

Some nights, Orrey really wondered what was in the drink of the poor bastard that allowed him to pass a drivers test. He distinctly remembered failing the written a minimum of 5 or 6 times, until a few selective answers magically showed up smudged on the inside of his sleeve. Just clear enough to help him pass. But that didn’t matter once it came to the drivers test and apparently neither did safety. Or at least that’s what he’d convinced himself of as he whipped around the railroad crossing gate just as it finished coming down. The train wasn’t there yet and he wasn’t going to let it make him late to his delivery either. He could see them waiting for him and whilst there were times, the idea of giving someone soggy fries gave him a certain thrill, he had an additional problem gripping for dear life in the back of his car. “You said you didn’t mind ride sharing. You just so happen to be sharing with some curly fries man.” He said as the terrified patron clung to the seat. When he finally pulled up to the indicated location of his food delivery, he climbed out to grab his DoorDash bag and watched as his Lyft rider scrambled out of the back and took off down the road. “Hey don’t forget to give me 5 stars!” He shouted after them before turning to the person waiting for their food. “Did you order from Cauldron Brewing Company?”

Hayden and Orrey went way back. The other had been his friend as long as he could recall, well, that was a bit of stretch but it had been a while now and the other was dangerously close to breaching ‘bro’ territory. When the other had decided that DoorDash and Lyfting was going to be the flavor of job for the foreseeable future, Hayden was-- well, Orrey wasn’t exactly a good driver. Though, who was these days in NYC? They were both still alive, so all in all he couldn’t be that bad. What he did know, was when his name popped up as the driver for his order, he was going to be getting these chilli cheese curly fries fast. Orrey was like if Need For Speed and Fast and Furious had a baby and that baby was human. He was proven right, of course, when he saw the familiar car hurtling down the street, the roar of the engine picking up as the lights on the track went red. Hayden stepped out of the doorway into the dark alleyway, features screwing up a little as the other sped over the tracks. Luckily, the man’s luck was still in check and there was no speeding train to tear him, his car, and his passenger into pieces. Hayden couldn’t help but laugh as the moment the car stopped, his passenger fell out and started running like he was being chased. “Best Lyft in NYC!” Hayden shouted after Orrey before returning his attention to him. “Did I ever! Are you taking an hour off? These chilli cheese curly fries are asking to be shared.”.

[thehaydenbarnes]

remipricerp​:

~~

Talk about a smokeshow. Figurative and literal. He had the whole strong jaw looked like he could fuck you against a wall no problem vibe going, but Remi wasn’t a huge fan of him pretty much carrying his own carcinogen cloud with him. “Yeah except it’s a Starbucks gift cards and everyone knows $40 bucks there will last you four days if you’re lucky.” She scrunched her nose, in distaste of the way his smokey scent was upsetting her whole breathing fresh oxygen thing. “Why is it interesting? A $40 gift card doesn’t mean I’m loaded. It could be that I got it as a gift and I’m broker than a car with the engine missing.” Remi doesn’t like to fight about real things, things with substance. Scattered miscellaneous arguments over shadow subjects with strangers was much more her speed. “Jeeze man, did you light six of those things at once?”

An eyebrow rose. “I think it’s pretty interesting that you think this is interesting. Like you’re about to solve a cold case or something and this whole scenario is some big mystery.” She waved one of the cans around. “I am none of your business, that’s who I am. I’m just out here minding my own business killing some time while you’re killing the entirety of the ozone layer.”

Hayden placed one hand half way into the air, his forefinger stretching up towards the darkening, murky skies of New York City. “Ah,” he hummed, enjoying the fact this mystery woman was seemingly playing his little games with him. “But a person who would be desperate enough to take a giftcard with so little, would also be a person who knows exactly how to make that money stretch and last, don’t you think?” He countered, his stoic features giving nothing away to the other. “And there are some cars with no engines that are bound to sell for thousands,” he added, his tongue dancing over his bottom lip before scoffing at her comment about the smoke. 

She didn’t seem to like his questioning about who she was, and why she was here. Though, most people in the city had a similar response. Still, he couldn’t help but not allow his questions to go unanswered. None of your business. She clearly had no idea how this town ran; everything was everyone’s business... And nothing was. “A cold case? No. Though it has been a while since this area of the city has had something interesting enough to-- sink teeth into...” He mused before finally, his phlegmatic features broke and a grin tugged at his lips. “Well, here’s the thing... You’re not from here, are you? You work here, I’ve seen you behind the desk in the library before now,” his eyes looked her up and down, “but you’re not from here. I am. Born and raised in these streets. I know everyone and they know me, but I don’t... Know... You...” He dropped the cigraette to the floor and squished it out with his boot. “So, that means, you are in my town, staring at my walls with a can in your hand looking to deface it... Like somebody did the backalley wall of my bar just last week. That makes it my business, and that’s makes knowing who are you... My business.”.

[thehaydenbarnes]

remipricerp​:

Take the 10:30 train back to Manhattan. Never miss it, Remi. Do you understand me? You can never miss that train.

It was an easy order to follow. Most of the town shut down by 9pm. The night owl establishments tended to have residential only hours after 10pm. When Remi worked the closing shift at the Library she was usually out by 9.50, a twenty minute walk to the train station and just a little bit of time to leave her mark on the town before she headed back to the city. Tonight she’d gotten out early. Tonight she was finally going to have time to work on a gorgeous stretch of wall at the bottom of the steps that led to the train platform. 

Was tonight a green or a purple night? Remi hesitated, two spray cans pulled from her bag, her sunglasses perched upon the bridge of her nose even though the sun had gone down hours ago. 

There was a sudden, startling presence behind her and she whipped around, as if the spray cans were full of mace and not paint. She supposed in a pinch paint to the eyes might be just as effective.

“Look, I’m not a good mugging victim. I’m just not. This guy in the city tried once and literally just gave me my wallet back because there was nothing in it but the crumb of a wayward frosted flake from my breakfast and a coupon for ski ball. The most valuable thing I have on me tonight is my $40 dollar gift card for Starbucks and like…just don’t be that asshole that fucks with another person’s caffeine fix for the week. Like, please.”

It was unusual for Hayden to be wandering around the streets of Fabletown at such an hour where his business would be at peak flow. But, his bar was left in the relatively safe hands of his assistant manager, and the conversation he had found with the patrons bored him out of the building. He was after something a little more entertaining for his pleasure on this bleak Thursday evening, and so where else to head than Atrium Casino? It wasn’t the gambling tables, or the cocktail bar, or the beat of the music that enticed the smoker... No, it was what laid beneath the building that really got him going. Though he would never speak of it to another, and he would never admit that he enjoyed what happened down there. 

There was almost a permanent cloud of smoke that surrounded Hayden Barnes. This was also true in a more metaphoric way. Tonight was no exception, the smoke from his cigarette turned the corner before he did, greeting the woman who was stood staring at a wall before he spoke. His lips parted, but she beat him to the punch. At her little speech, his eyebrows furrowed as he drew in a long inhale of the toxic fumes. “It’s interesting that you tell me you have a gift card with so much money on it. I mean, there are many people around these parts who try and live of $40 a month,” he breathed out, words lacing with the nicotine clouds. 

“It’s also interesting that you’re stood, under a street light, with two cans in your hands, staring at a wall like a canvas...” He motioned to the light and the cans and the walls as he spoke. “Who are you?” 

[insporp]

©

[clintftnatasha]