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deanholdcr·:

« ♤ starter for @walkerleyla··· »

Dean could spot her from a mile away; so akin to that of her sister, it pained him at every first glance. Of course, the two had been entirely different entities for a multitude of reasons but, they were sisters, he couldn’t deny the similarities. Perhaps he was just holding on to tethers of Scarlett. He watches her for a moment, deliberating whether to walk over and join her on the park bench, or just continue doing what he did best — walking away. But something in him propelled him forward, weighted steps making their way to the bench until he finally sat down on the other end. Whether she was aware it was him or not was beyond him, for he was so focused on the sight of the lake before them, and the words stuck in his throat, that nothing but silence fell between them. Weighted, heavy.. ready to burst if he didn’t speak up first. “I wanted to reach out.” And then he blurts them out, without proper contemplation of how to commence conversation with Leyla. “I wanted to so many times I can’t..explain. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I thought—and I still think..” A weighted sigh forms in his chest, leaving with such force it nearly shocked him whole. “You’re all better off without.. I’m just—a reminder of what happened. I can’t even look in the mirror without hating myself, and I deserve that. I deserve living with this regret and hatred.” He didn’t know at what point his voice had betrayed him, becoming shaky. “But you don’t.“

The park seemed to be a good enough place to hang out for the time being. With all the stress she felt lately, she was sure she needed to get some time to herself. Being the owner of a future world famous fashion brand was hard work after all. Air Pods in, she sat and let her hand wander. Leyla wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there, but the next thing she knew, someone was sitting next to her. She had simply paid them no mind, but she wasn’t sure what it was that made her want to take her earphone out. Maybe it was that she figured the person would want to start a conversation if they were sitting next to her of all people. As she turned her head, she finally got a look at who it was. Of course it was Dean Fucking Holder. She took the earphone out and stared at him. “Why are you always in my breathing area when I don’t want you to be?”

#d. deanholdcr #dialogue.#all. dean holder

theanimalmemes

deanholdcr

@walkerleyla

#m. dean holder #all. dean holder #literally the most leyla and dean thing in the world

esthermckenna‌:

Esther looked down at her outfit, suddenly self-conscious that it wasn’t flattering. When she shopped, it was often at thrift stores. She found she could find cute clothes there at a much lower cost than other stores. Shopping wasn’t her top priotity. It was more of a treat when she had extra money left for the month. In a moment of courage, she walked up to the woman and asked, “Sorry to bother you but does my outfit look okay?” She was wearing high-waisted shorts and a pink, cropped sweater with wide sleeves. @walkerleyla

“Oh, I love it even better when people ask me for advice.” The girl seemed sweet enough that she didn’t want to completely roast her outfit. Then again, as she gazed her up and down, surveying every bit of the outfit, she found it to be quite cute. “You look adorable honestly. I’m always a sucker for high waisted anything and cropped tops.” She looked further down to see the shoe situation. Not her personal taste, but she wasn’t going to fault her for that. It looked like the other woman’s taste so it fit her nicely. “Heels would look great with that. Really helps your butt lift a little more.”

#d. esthermckenna #dialogue.#all. esther mckenna

dylanevcrly·:

“Oh man,” the brunette pushes herself off the wall she’d been leaning against, brows raised in judgment. Though thoroughly amused, she was equally as embarrassed as the girl who was now scurrying off. Giving Leyla a ready once over, she heaves a sigh as she attempts to keep an amused smile at bay. “You are such a bitch. You know that, right? That poor girl is probably scarred for life.”

“I’m sure she’ll be okay. I mean, I technically helped her out. She could’ve went the rest of her twenty’s not knowing that and people would’ve stared at her wondering why nobody told her she didn’t look good in that skirt. Now she’ll look back and think, ‘Thank Allah that woman told me I looked bad in that skirt.’ So who’s really winning? She is.” She leaned her head on her fist, surveying the area. It wasn’t exactly a warm day outside, but it wasn’t horrible either. She guessed she could give some people a free pass. “You look great today though.”

#love this crackhead energy finally making its way to the surface #d. dylanevcrly #dialogue.#all. dylan everly

closed starter for @mysticstarter

“No, I didn’t mean that. I just meant that that skirt would look better on someone else. I didn’t mean to say you looked bad in it. It’s just that it doesn’t particularly fit your person well. No offense or anything. You understand, right?” She was not the best at all at getting her point across, but she was sure the woman would understand. Right? Well, it seemed not as she had gotten up with a huff and walked away. “Don’t take it personally! We all have off days!” She yelled after the woman before shrugging and looking down at her phone while also keeping an eye on any other passerby’s that needed the fashion police.

#mystic: chat

#soundtrack.

deanholdcr

LEYLA.

Maybe she had been looking for a fight with him. Maybe it was just that she needed to get all of this off of her chest, but she was fed up. Her father had left her before she was even really born and Dean left her when she had lost her sister. The man had been like a brother to her once upon a time and now he was merely a stranger. She wanted to forget he even existed, but that was easier said than done. “No. You don’t get to say that, Dean Holder. You don’t get to say you’re glad to see me when you didn’t bother to pick up a phone and call.” She angrily wiped away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. “You know, I don’t blame you for what happened to Scarlett. I blame you for leaving when you could have stayed. I know you felt guilty, but you left me and I lost two people. You don’t get to pretend like you’re glad to see me when you spent years pretending I didn’t exist for your own benefit. We were all hurting and you only cared about your own damn feelings.” She looked around for a moment, blinking away any tears that were threatening to fall. Her voice dropped as she spoke again. “You left me when I needed family most and that was the worst thing you could have done,” she said with finality as she turned to walk down the hallway to get to the exit.

Dean thought he’d had an out, a means of ending the conversation, dealing with his feelings on his own, and then moving on. It was what he’d come to be good at, after all, becoming something of a comfort zone. This, though, what Leyla presented before him now threatened everything, all of the walls he’d built around his heart, all of the feelings and heartache he’d shoved way down. Leyla Walker was a walking representation of everything he stood to feel again. All of the pain, the all consuming grief. Avoiding anything to do with his past love made life easier to bear; it made it easier to move on, even though all he was doing was running away. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel awful for the way he’d treated Leyla and her family, for the way he’d completely abandoned her in her time of need. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t hate himself for it; if, standing here and watching Leyla in a vulnerable state now didn’t completely tear him apart. But he couldn’t deal with it. He couldn’t face her, not after what he’d done. Fuck. “Leyla, no, I—” Dean shakes his head, part of him wanting to correct her, to fight against what she was saying. But he couldn’t, because she was right. Instead he’s quiet, listening, swallowing a rising lump in his throat as his own eyes prickle, threatening to fill with tears. He wanted to argue with her, to tell her how much he hated what he’d done, how much he blamed himself.. how wrong she was about him caring about his own feelings. But he couldn’t. Paralysed to the very core, all he could do was stand there with gaping, contorted features, and watch her walk away.. and for a second, for the slightest second, in Leyla’s disappearing form, he almost saw her.

walkerleyla

——— END ———

#d. deanholdcr #dialogue.#all. dean holder #// i'd love a swift death tyvm #THIS IS SO NOT RAVEN GRANDMA

alexander-rayne·:

“You are well-liked. That’s why you’re my ticket to ride.” Alexander leaned back to look at Leyla, smirking a little bit, “You’re biased. Also, yeah, I know, but Apollo is literally my best weapon against anyone. If you don’t like dogs, you’re a dick.” He turned towards his friend a little more, “How else should I approach this shit? Everyone around here has some form of amnesia.”

“Well, I don’t know if that’s how it works. I guess we can try to get the pity vote out there so someone can give you something.” She blew him a few kisses and looked down at her phone. “Very true. I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t like dogs.” Leyla had kept her eyes on her phone until he asked her a question. “That’s because people don’t like talking about tragedies. I think you should bring it up differently. Like don’t ask them outright if they know anything about the fire. Just kind of be like ‘That fire still gives me chills to this day. How are you feeling about it lately?’ It’ll give you a starting point.”

#d. alexanderrayne #dialogue.#all. alexander rayne

goodluckcharliescott·:

“You’re always right huh? But I’m also always right, so what happens when we both start saying something that contradicts each other? Actually, nevermind, I already know I would be right still,” she teased. “Cooch is a real word. All words are made up if you think about it.” She took the unspoken cue to change the subject about the model’s vagina – sometimes she could stop joking about something before it got too far. Sometimes. She narrowed her eyes when Leyla said she probably knew her sister. “Scarlett?” She tilted her head as she tried to think if she knew her sister. Scarlett…. Walker? “Walker. Oh.” She had learned at some point after she came back to town Scarlett’s fate. She wanted to express her condolences, but was that something she should have done? She took a minute to debate it. “Yeah, I remember her. I’m sorry.” It came off awkward by her standards and she immediately regretted saying anything. “That’s quite the story though. More interesting than the dozens of people here who are here because their families have been here for generations, anyway.” Like her family. But at least her life had been eventful outside of Mystic. “I did say Birkenstocks. Have I mentioned I’m a lesbian?” she added as a justification for that particular fashion choice. Maybe Birkenstocks weren’t traditionally a good look, but she liked to think she looked damn good wearing them. Too bad it was still too cold outside to show as proof. She lowered the camera when Leyla ushered the model to go get changed. “Yeah… probably,” she sighed, although the thought did amuse her a bit. “Wouldn’t be the first model that hated me, anyway.”

“Well, you can’t always be right because I’m always right. So you’re only always right if you’re agreeing with me. If you’re contradicting me, then you’re obviously just wrong. This isn’t even a discussion.” She wished she was joking, but she liked to think she was right about ninety-nine percent of the things she had an opinion on. Charlie could be right one percent of the time. Leyla could let that slide. “It is not a real word. It’s basically slang. All words are made up, but some are just weird. Nobody says cooch in normal conversation. Just like people should never say the word m-o-i-s-t in normal conversation.” She couldn’t even spell the word without cringing. She would just have to suffer, it seemed. At the realization that Charlie actually knew who Scarlett was, Leyla only expected the condolences to come rolling in. Maybe an ‘I’m sorry for your loss’. Because that always helped people when they were grieving. At least she wasn’t still in her grieving phase. That would’ve set her off just hearing those words. “Don’t say sorry. I’m sure nobody likes to hear those words when they’re talking about death. Thanks though.” She could at least appreciate the thought though. Even if she didn’t want to hear it. “Just because you’re a lesbian doesn’t mean you have to wear Birkenstocks. That’s like me saying that I have to wear cuffed jeans with a baggy shirt tucked into it, a leather jacket and Vans just because I’m bisexual. You have a choice to not wear horrible footwear.” Then again, she did wear cuffed jeans often. And leather jackets sometimes. And maybe some Vans once in a blue moon. Maybe she was just super bisexual and not grasping that she was stereotyping herself by some of the clothing she wore. She would never mention that thought to Charlie though. “Oh, same. I give off a very bad impression most of the time. I guess confidence is bad.”

#d. goodluckcharliescott #dialogue.#all. charlie scott

deanholdcr·:

Dean is quiet as she responds, her words inevitably stabbing him in the heart, deservedly. They rang true, after all. He had practically abandoned Scarlett’s family after it all, wallowing in his own hole. He wouldn’t bring anyone down with him; not with the amount of guilt that weighed him down. He wouldn’t allow them to suffer any more than they already had. “Guess I deserve that,” he says with a lowered gaze, his chest rising and falling with a deep sigh. It was easier to allow her to hate him, for them all to hate him. Dean genuinely believed they were better off. “You’re right. I uh.. I won’t be bother you any longer. I’m just—glad to see you. Truly.”

#d. deanholdcr #dialogue.#all. dean holder

goodluckcharliescott·:

“You have a point – pretty sure Rihanna could work a skort if she wanted to. With those legs? Lord.” Okay. maybe in that case skorts weren’t so bad. “I take very classy cooch shots. I did nude photoshoot for someone once, I can’t show you because she didn’t consent for them to be shown, but just know if I did accidentally take cooch shots, they would look very nice,” she continued to joke with the model. Charlie wasn’t ashamed to admit she was a dumb American – she liked to think she was cultured than most though. “Yeah, I’m not gonna attempt to say it again. I can’t say I know a lot of people that know Turkish, so the fact you even know it is pretty unique. How does a Turkish family find their way to boring old Connecticut, anyway? There must be an interesting story there.” Los Angeles had been a melting pot of different backgrounds – the complete opposite of Mystic. She was a little curious how the other woman ended up here. “I think you do love to torture yourself. I only save heels for the rare occasions I wear a dress, and even then, I would prefer to wear Birkenstocks any day.” She shrugged. “Beats me, I personally don’t go commando or wear skirts. It is kinda convenient when you’re hooking up with someone and they’re not wearing underwear though. Maybe that’s the intention.” She looked at the model. “Right? Did I guess that correctly?” she asked teasingly.

“Exactly. Now you’re understanding where I’m going with this. I’m always right just so you know.” Rihanna could most definitely rock a skort. Anyone with great legs probably could. It would just be a non-factor if they didn’t like the way they looked. Which was the thought of most people who even caught a glance of them. “See? You have a great vagina. I need to stop saying cooch because it’s genuinely bothering me now since it’s not a real word.” She had been trying her best not to be that kind of bitch that corrected grammar, but hell she couldn’t do it anymore. The model was surely getting uncomfortable about talking about her vagina anyway so they probably should have changed the subject. She didn’t want the other woman to have a bad taste in her mouth after this was over. “Well, it’s a fairly short story. My mother and biological father came to New York from Turkey. My sister was born. You probably heard of Scarlett. Everyone knew her. I think you guys were the same age. You might’ve gone to school together. Anyway, my biological father left when I was born so my mom moved us here and that’s it. I’ve got a douchebag father that didn’t want me.” The story barely meant anything to her. Sure, she would’ve loved to know how life would have been if she had stayed in New York and had her biological father around to raise her, but that just wasn’t the case. And Leyla sure wasn’t going to spend her time thinking about something that could’ve been rather than living in the present. “Did you just say Birkenstocks?” There was bile rising up and she wanted to throw up just hearing the word. Who the hell wore those unironically? “Maybe so, maybe so. Let’s change outfits now, yeah?” She got up to usher the model over to the changing area that was sort of private, but not exactly. It was private enough that they wouldn’t see her changing. Especially now that they had gotten enough conversation in about the woman’s vagina. As she walked back to Charlie, she took a breath. “She surely hates us by now.”

#d. goodluckcharliescott #dialogue.#all. charlie scott

deanholdcr·:

Dean could barely reach her eyes, unable to look into the eyes of the one person he had likely betrayed the most, pure shame and guilt paralysing him to the core. His cheeks were painted a heated red, whatever was left of his heart beating erratically in his chest. All he could do was live in regret, and it was easier when the reminder wasn’t standing directly in front of him reprimanding him, as she had every right to. In all honesty, she should hate him more. He wanted to fight her on what she’d said, that he was like his family, about status and completely and utterly selfish.. but she was right, wasn’t she? Besides, it was easier if she hated him, and she was better off blaming him. “Leyla—” Dean was at war with himself momentarily, his forehead furrowed. “I know you hate me.. I deserve it. I just.. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

How a man taller than her found it impossible to look at her, she would surely never understand, but it was the guilt eating at him, she was sure of. He deserved to feel the way that he did. Leyla had to feel bad about being the way she was because of the loss of her sister. He could feel bad about being in the car that day, for being just like his family and running away when things were too difficult. “I don’t hate you, Dean. That would require me to think about you at all. And I don’t waste my time thinking about people who couldn’t give a damn about me. It would be a waste of my time and energy and that I simply will not do.” It was a lie she was going to tell herself until she couldn’t anymore. And she hoped that moment would never come so she could just live without a Dean Holder in her life. She had been doing so for six years so she thought she could manage for the rest of her life. It wasn’t what Scarlett would want, but she was nothing like her sister. Not anymore.

#d. deanholdcr #dialogue.#all. dean holder

professorsolak‌:

𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃, 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅-𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄. They quietly registered the words, processing Dean’s name the way one might the name drop of a murderer: but despite what Dean might have felt in his part of Scarlett’s tragic death, he was not her murderer. And perhaps that was the most brutal part of it all. Who to blame? Who to sic Lara’s frustration and Leyla’s anger at? Lara’s silent for a moment, contemplating a response that wouldn’t alienate Leyla or incite further anger. ❝ You’re right. It’s not fair. ❞ And still. ❝ As much as I wish I could sit here and hate him for surviving, and as much as I do, something tells me it’s not- what Scarlett would want. ❞ They’d never been able to gleam what their cousin had seen in Dean Holder. But obviously it was something. ❝ These years I’ve been away… They made me reflect. And you know I’m not going to sit here and tell you how to feel, Leyla. You deserve to feel and act however you feel. But, every time I think about Dean Holder, I still say fuck him, but as much as we hate him for living when she didn’t… I think he might hate himself more. ❞

They sat back, a troubled look on their face. It wasn’t a thought that sat well with them. They wished to go back, years ago, when things were black and white, and Dean could be the root of their problems as definitively as the fact that the sun was bright and the sky was blue.

Maybe wine hadn’t been the best option to go for. Leyla was feeling like several shots of the strongest liquor she could find right now. But she couldn’t drown her problems with alcohol. No, that would be far too easy. She was angry though and she didn’t want to be. However, every single time she saw his face, all she could think about was what she had lost. Then there was the mention of Scarlett again. The woman had been near perfect, a role model most would only dream of having. Her eyes focused on Lara as they spoke, eyes glassing over only a bit before she blinked a few times to stop it. “Well, I’m not Scarlett. What she wants doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” Of course it did though. It was why she had molded herself into the person she was now, why she had started her own fashion brand with her sister in mind. It was a hard life now without her, but she hadn’t lost everybody no matter how much she acted like she did. She still had her cousin, her mother, her father. Asking for something she could never truly receive was like beating a dead horse. It wouldn’t bring anyone back to her. “And he should. Because he was behind that wheel. He should hate himself for letting what happened happen. He should hate himself for leaving. And nothing you say, Lara, is going to make me think any different. So, like you said, fuck him.” The words were emphasized as if she wanted him to hear it deep within his core wherever he was right now. It would sure feel sweet if he did.

“Lara...” She looked at them, her eyes glassing once more. Her eyes tore away from them for a moment. “What an unlucky life we lead, huh?”

#d. professorsolak #dialogue.#all. lara solak