I NEED COFFEE IN AN IV !

lorelai gilmore, removed from canon and rewritten into supernatural.

[gilmoires]

lorelai gilmore, removed from gilmore girls and placed into the world of supernatural. hailing from one of the most respected and feared hunter bloodlines on the east coast, her family has hunted cryptids for generations. being raised under immense pressure by her mother emily, lorelai was trained from since she can remember to take her place next in line as a skilled hunter, fluent in aged latin, being strongest in both magic and weaponry. everything changed when she turned sixteen and became pregnant with her daughter, rory. she ran away, swearing to never raise her in a life of hunting. living in stars hollow, seemingly a beacon for supernatural entities, lorelai does her best to keep her town safe, her daughter alive with a normal life, while keeping the monsters at bay.

[gilmoires]

that look in season one.

[gilmoires]

“  who  did  this  to  you  ?  ”

there's a wince that flashes across the gilmore's features, not by the bruisings that litter her frame but because of the weight of delaney's words that carried through the gilmore home, rory safely tucked at college in her bed unbeknownst to what her mother has been privy to. though the years of lane inviting herself into the gilmore home and appearing in any of the rooms have harden the gilmore from being too jumpy, but the night before may have attacked her nerves. the training lorelai learned when she was with her parents seem stale now, a distant memory than a skill she keeps tucked beneath her toolbelt. the thought worries her, as a mother, because she relied on such knowledge to keep her and her daughter safe for years should anything cross their threshold. lorelai doesn't want to imagine now what would have happened if she was proven wrong much sooner.

"i thought you weren't getting in until tomorrow!" she exclaims with a gasp, eyes raking over the other's form as though she's expecting the same mirroring of purple supernovas to blossom across the woman's frame, but finds nothing yet this time. gaze cast towards her front door, part in preparation for whatever tried to get her to finish the job, but to ready herself for more company. she really should have picked up earlier; magazines are haphazardly sprawled across the coffee table, mixed with takeout containers here and there, to which lorelai tries to subtly start gathering and taking with her down the length of her hallway and into the kitchen to throw the contents away. the dishes! she sighs in mild frustration at the pile that waits for her, as if it was greater than the pain that throbs in her side. "i had a whole day planned to make things look nice. i was going to stop by luke's and get some pie - you guys like pie, right?" she's rambling, unbeknownst to her own body that she's trying to sway away from the inevitable conversation that she's not wanting to have. to admit to her bruises means to admit to her failures, and her mother's voice rings loud and incessant in her ear, a mantra that lorelai rarely reminds herself in weakness at times growing up: gilmores never fail, they never give up.

[gilmoires]

“  who  did  this  to  you  ?  ” 

"i have no idea, honey, but whoever it was sure as hell knew the ins and outs of this place," she sighs, watching and waiting as wallace cut at the ropes that bound at her wrist, feeling the weight slip away and fall to the ground. she rubs at her wrists, sore from having been bound, but the bruises that litter her cheeks and the gash from her forehead seemed to be the least of her problems. the gilmore house was overturned, ransacked in a way that someone would if they were looking for something specific. her hand goes to her mouth when she starts to descend down the stairs, seeing the couch in a new position of being upside down and halfway out the window.

there's a frustrated growl that bites her throat as she reaches the end of the stairs, getting closer to the window to assess the damage. she hoped luke was ready to close the diner for the day; she was going to need his help. then again, the idea of luke seeing the wreckage and her witnessing the rage that would light up in his eyes.. lorelai can't tell if she wants to experience the warmth of a dane's protectiveness or if she wants to save him from such experience. either way, she shoves a finger towards wallace as if he is to blame, but her fury seems to not touch him, because she's not angry at him. "whoever the hell it is, i'm sendin' them a cleaning bill." she kicks at some of the broken glass with her shoe in frustration.

finally, she exhales a deep sigh, rubs at her wrists some more, and then asks wallace, "would you like some coffee?"

[gilmoires]

❛ I can’t see your face, but those are definitely your brooding and pensive shoulders. ❜

the coffee has been brewing for a little too long, even with the helpful not so gentle tap to the side of the machine that usually stops the jam, but the low whirring noise suggests to her that it may be due time for a new coffee machine for her and her daughter to wear down. the cut from the hunt is still fresh on her cheek, patched together with a butterfly bandage; and she's silently grateful for her own mother's persistent behavior, who urged for lorelai to just let her daughter sleep over at her grandparents for the weekend, that it will be great for her to be so close to her grandfather, who has plenty of books for her to read this weekend. the gratitude stales when lorelai considers that her grandfather may try to get rory to read some lore books, old leather bound books that has been passed down within the gilmores for generations. her parents never did agree with lorelai's desire to keep rory out of the supernatural world completely. but it at least left the gilmore house without her daughter for the night, allowing lorelai some time to be able to come up with a lie about what happened to her and ignore her mother's knowing silent look.

sam's voice brings her back from her derailing thoughts, thankfully. she nearly jolts at the sound of his voice, like she forgot that he was the one who stitched her back together and saved her ass on the hunt. perhaps her rifle skills aren't up to snuff since she has been out of the game for years. with a sigh, she reaches into the pantry above her head and grabs two mugs, movements fluid with muscle memory at pouring the coffee and sitting across from the other at her dinner table. her damp hair from her shower still clings to the nape of her neck, dripping almost down the back of her shirt, but she paid no mind. it's nearly five in the morning, and lorelai would have to pick up her daughter soon to take her to school.

"sam, do you think your life would have turned out different if your dad never told you about hunting?" she asks, lifting a hand to rest her chin with elbow on the table, looking past sam's shoulder to rory's slightly ajar bedroom door.

[goodnightmemes]

SUPERNATURAL SENTENCE STARTERS / SEASONS 4 - 5

❛ What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be saved? ❜

❛ You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in. ❜

❛ Destiny can’t be changed. All roads lead to the same destination. ❜

❛ I have questions. I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore. ❜

❛ The only reason you’re still alive is because you’ve been useful. But the moment that ceases to be true, the second you become more trouble than you’re worth, one word, one, and I will turn you to dust. ❜

❛ Who do I have to kill to get some French fries around here? ❜

❛ How I feel, this… inside me, I wish I couldn’t feel anything. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing. ❜

❛ We’re all scared. That’s the big secret… We’re all scared. ❜

❛ If you think you have good intentions, think again. ❜

❛ It’s not blame that falls on you. It’s fate. ❜

❛ I’m tired of burying friends. ❜

❛ You ask me to open that door and walk through it…? You will not like what walks back out. ❜

❛ I’m sorry. This is a very serious, very emotional situation for you. I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just that, I mean, are they serious? They sent you to torture me? ❜

❛ Oh, you’ll spill your guts, one way or the other. I just didn’t want to ruin my shoes. ❜

❛ Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things. Save people. ❜

❛ I can’t see your face, but those are definitely your brooding and pensive shoulders. ❜

❛ You promised me my family would be okay! You promised you were gonna take care of them! ❜

❛ I gave you everything you asked me to give. I gave you more. This is the thanks I get? This is what you do? ❜

❛ Now for the punch line. Everybody dies. ❜

❛ Now I’m asking you, for once, trust me. ❜

❛ Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s, no escape. After all, how can you run from what’s inside you? ❜

❛ You don’t know me. You never did. And you never will. ❜

❛ Well, boo hoo! I am so sorry your feelings are hurt, princess! ❜

❛ Are you under the impression that family’s supposed to make you feel good, make you an apple pie, maybe? They’re supposed to make you miserable! That’s why they’re family! ❜

❛ We’ve been through much together, you and I. And I just wanted… to say, I’m sorry it ended like this. ❜

❛ What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here! ❜

❛ No more crap about being a good soldier, there is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it! ❜

❛ If there is anything worth dying for, this is it. ❜

❛ Well, can’t make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. In this case, truckloads of eggs, but you get the picture. ❜

❛ Oh God. Is that a molar? I have a molar in my hair? This has been a really stressful day. ❜

❛ I’ve got no idea, but what I do have is a GED and a give-em hell attitude, and I’ll figure it out. ❜

❛ I’m hunted, I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. ❜

❛ I lost everything… for nothing. ❜

❛ You feel bad now? Wait ‘till you’re thigh-deep in warm corpses. ‘Cause my friend, I’m just getting started. ❜

❛ We’ve talked about this. Personal space? ❜

❛ I was dead from the moment we said hello. ❜

❛ Don’t you get it? You can’t run from yourself. ❜

❛ Same song, different verse. Things are never gonna change with you. Ever. ❜

❛ My heart breaks for you. The weight on your shoulders, what you’ve done, what you still have to do. It is more than anyone could bear. ❜

❛ You’re not fooling me, you know that? With this sympathy for the Devil crap? I know what you are. ❜

❛ Whatever you do, you will always end up here. No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up…here. ❜

❛ Maybe we are each other’s Achilles’ Heel. Maybe they’ll find a way to use us against each other, I don’t know. I just know we’re all we’ve got. ❜

❛ You can do the right thing. You’ve got choices. But if you make the wrong ones, it’ll haunt you for the rest of your life. ❜

❛ I have to believe someone can make the right choice, even if I couldn’t. ❜

❛ You know, I’m starting to get why parents lie to their kids. You want them to believe that the worst thing out there is mixing Pop Rocks and Coke - protect them from the real evil. You want them going to bed feeling safe. If that means lying to them, so be it. ❜

❛ I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow. But this is real. And it’s gonna end bloody for all of us. That’s just how it’s gotta be. ❜

❛ Now listen very closely. Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna suck it up, accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that destiny has chosen for you! ❜

❛ Are you giving me the ‘Last Night on Earth’ speech? ❜

❛ What a peculiar thing you are. ❜

❛ I still love him. But I am going to kill him because it is right and I have to. ❜

❛ Think of the million random choices that you make, and yet how each and every one of them brings you closer to your destiny. Do you know why that is? Because it’s not random. It’s not chance. It’s a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will’s an illusion. ❜

❛ I can see how broken you are, how defeated; you can’t win and you know it, but you just keep fighting, just keep going through the motions. You’re not hungry, because inside, you’re already dead. ❜

❛ We’re supposed to be a team, it’s supposed to be you and me against the world, right? ❜

❛ Not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that… I got laid. ❜

❛ Well, we’re working on the power of love. ❜

❛ I love you, but you are a great big bag of dicks. ❜

❛ No one gives us the right. We take it. ❜

❛ If anyone gets to end this world, it’s me. ❜

❛ Before we get down to brass tacks, some ground rules: No slaughtering each other, curb your wrath. Oh, and keep your hands off the local virgins. We’re trying to keep a low profile here. ❜

❛ Get the hell off my property before I blast you so full of rock salt, you crap margaritas. ❜

❛ I don’t understand your definition of good news. ❜

❛ You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be. ❜

❛ You have an inflated sense of your importance. ❜

❛ To a thing like me, a thing like you, well… Think how you’d feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. ❜

❛ I’m old. Very old. So, I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you. ❜

❛ However you feel now, it’s only gonna get so very, very much worse… questions? ❜

❛ I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol. ❜

❛ You’re not a kid anymore, and I can’t keep treating you like one. Maybe I gotta grow up a little, too. ❜

❛ Come on, I’ve never lied to you, you could at least pay me the same respect. ❜

❛ We’re going to kill each other. And for what? We don’t even know the answer. Let’s just walk off the chessboard. ❜

❛ What would you rather have: peace or freedom? ❜

[gilmoires]

"i appreciate you doing this, by the way," lorelai muses softly, tucked with a soft smile that pulls on the corner of her brims as jess continues to patch the newfound slash in her arm. "i mean, i know it's your job, you're a doctor, you have a hippocratic oath and all." the ramblings come out when she's nervous, to which lorelai calls herself out for with a sigh and dropping her head into her free hand. "i'll buy you coffee everyday for the rest of our lives." ... @zuhaus , jess

[gilmoires]

"it's not even a haunt, or like a vengeful ghost. more minuscule than that. think less 'the shining,' and more of 'casper lost his car' type of job. the only thing that the spirit is really doing is stealing the towels from the guests at the inn. my guests would like to keep their towels, so-" finally a deep breath. "-what do you think, what should i do?" ... @boyblooded

[gilmoires]

like this for a small starter from your worst caffeine induced headache <3

[gilmoires]

that look in season one.

[gilmoires]

lorelai wants to know where her luke is at because she has a lot of things to say and none of them makes sense nor will be coherent together in a jumble mess of long-winded ramblings to showcase her infinite babbling capabilities, and she has one victim in mind to be on the receiving end of that conversation (threat)

[gilmoires]

lorelai gilmore, removed from canon and placed into the supernatural universe. sideblog to @hervelle.

[klarsynt]

it shouldn't twist his stomach into knots the way it does. seeing the dark markings, sensing in the very energy of the air around her with telltales signs of distress. most of the time, it's easy to pretend. it's what he has done most of his life. he has a job to do here, so he plays ignorant, pretends not to notice things, not to know more than he does. right now, however, he wants to tear the curtain down and demand the truth from her. he wants to know what or who did that to her. he wants to make it right. retribution itches just beneath the skin, warming his veins.

emil steps closer even as she deflects, not even acknowledging what he knows to be a lie. the crease between his brows remain and his head tilts down, gaze flickering over lorelai with unwavering intensity. he reaches out slowly and takes her wrist. his fingers are gentle when they curl around her limb. they're not supposed to be that tender. he is a weapon forged to take people apart, seep deep into their conciousness and remove whatever it is he needs. but when he he touches her to seek the memories she withholds, there's no cruelty in it. it's not cold either. emil doesn't peel back the sleeve. he doesn't need so. he just holds her wrist in one hand and lifts his other to her chin, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. his pupils dilate as the sensations and images leak from her soul and into his.

he finally looks back up to meet her gaze. his expression softens. honey. she calls him something so mundane, so tender, so easily. it's foreign to him. to the world in which he resides and he yearns for it too deeply. ❝ okay, ❞ he murmurs. he says it like he knows she's lying, but he won't force her to tell the truth. he leans down and presses his lips to her forehead. he lingers there for a small moment. ❝ next time you have one these...accidents. you'll tell me? don't really like waking up in the middle of the night to find you covering up bruises. ❞

[gilmoires]

she sees the concern wash over him in real time, instinctive and carved from a place that she knows she holds for him if she were to see him the same way. there's something that flutters in the cage of her ribs, seeing viktor look at her that way, but she wishes that she could smooth the worry from the lines on his face, to be able to quell the nerves that seem to hum alight beneath his skin just looking at her. she wishes that she could tell him the truth, of the ghosts, of her family, of all of it.

as though she's exhausted from the sheer weight of it, she leans into his touch, her own limbs wrapping around his stature to draw in him closer, breathing in the smell of him, hating the familiar knot of her stomach that comes whenever she realizes just how much she yearns and aches for the other. whenever she realizes that rory may be getting attached. that lorelai may be getting attached.

"let me put a bag of frozen peas on it before we call in the calvary, okay?" lorelai offers, 'doning her signature smile with her pearl teeth peeking between her blush colored brims, her manipulation tactic to help convince viktor from focusing too much on her. or start to question the evidence. "i promise i'm okay, i didn't even notice until you did, scout's honor."

[klarsynt]

❝ should i be offended by your utter lack of faith in my navigational skills? ❞ he questions with lifted brow, teasing lilt in his tone despite its usual dryness. ❝ well, i suppose if i'm on this side of the mississippi i can only accept. but once we cross the river i'm ditching you, so. ❞ he grins and shrugs as he stands straight again. emil glances away from her as a paper coffee cup ( which is actually filled with tea ) is slid across the counter to him by this town's seemingly least welcoming resident. emil, undeterred, winks at the man and nods his thanks. ❝ see i'm not sure this thing is actually a gift— ❞ he points down at the wagon. ❝ seems like some diabolical plan to slow me down if i have to lug it across town square with me during this tour. ❞

[gilmoires]

lorelai is not ignorant to the stiffness that overcomes luke when he hands off the paper cup to viktor, and then also to her, with a barely there grumble - no speech this time about how her caffeine intake is going to be the reason that they pronounce her dead at the age of tomorrow. or lunch. sometimes the speech various. nonetheless, lorelai shrugs it off, attention curled forth onto the wagon; adorably 'don with ribbons, homemade jam to last him a year, and other cutesy touristy thing stars hollow managed to spruce together for their newest member. there's butterflies that manages to knot in the pit of her stomach, remembering the supernatural; and the fact that he's likely going to see her in her furry rabbit slippers at some point. "is it slowing you down, or is it forcing you to stop and smell the roses?" lorelai offers, pulling on her leather jacket to fight against the crisp fall air. "i mean, it sounds to me like you're just so lucky that you met me today. it doesn't necessarily need to be navigations that you have to be skilled at. nowadays, it's the ability to connect with people. human nature, if you will. the ability to lean on a neighbor and ask for directions."

[gilmoires]

lorelai gilmore, removed from canon and placed into the supernatural universe. sideblog to @hervelle.

[gilmoires]

 “  who  did  this  to  you  ?  ” yuh

"whoa! my! you should really wear a bell, mister," lorelai chuckles out sheepishly, having been caught in her bathroom in the middle of the night perhaps longer than she anticipated. she was marveling over the bruises that litter her skin, blossoming purple against her canvas, from the ghost that tried to haunt the dragonfly building. though creaky wood, and breaking panelings, lorelai hoped to leave the place inhabitant of any such creatures, and remembered how long it's been since she's been out of the game.

despite this, she's surprised by the look that glints over his gaze when he catches the purple circles on her arms before she pulls her sleeves down, trying to pry attention away from it, and crossing her arms casually as if she didn't just give herself away. it's hard to explain why she disappeared for several hours yesterday when they were supposed to meet for a lunch date, ending in an apologetic late night picnic dinner that lorelai haphazardly put together (and eventually ordered them pizza for, apparently her mother's smashed banana toast recipe should never be visited again) in her back porch for viktor.

"sookie is pretty accident prone in the kitchen, you'd think that we'd have to take out insurance on her at the inn." it's passive, a dismissive way to answer his question without having to highlight the specifics, like why the marks look more like handprints than they do of corner tables. but it's to suppress whatever it is that seems to flood the surface of his countenance, something that lorelai is unsure that she wants to dissect and figure out, or keep it tucked away like a quiet secret. "i'm okay, i swear, honey."

[blackcatrph]

send  “  who  did  this  to  you  ?  ”  for  the  sender  to  find  the  receiver  injured  and  demand  to  know  who  did  it.