❥ RORY GILMORE.

@littlelorelaii wants to cook some comfort food 🥐 !

    “don’t come in yet. just stay over there. jesus fuck —- holy shiiiiit.” the warmth of the pan is fumbled between uncovered palms, mickey’s exclamation followed by an unnerving crash against resin as the burnt mozzarella sticks are dumped onto the kitchen counter. the hot pan is discarded amongst the rest of the poorly made freezer food, but that’s the least of his worries as rory inserts herself into the room before the smorgasbord could be perfected. a gust of air is blown up as a sigh of relief, his arms spanning out to drench the disaster with an element of pizazz.

    “courtesy of chef mickey, baby !”

        the smell of the burning cheese should have been a dead giveaway that mickey’s surprise wasn’t going as planned. normally he wouldn’t have to tell her twice to stay out of the kitchen, rory was more than happy to oblige with that request, but the concern over both of their safety outweighed any potential consequences. although it was a sweet gesture, she couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of the burnt mozzarella sticks, the pan coated in the gooey cheese. “are we having fried breadcrumbs for dinner?” she laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood, taking a step towards the array of almost inedible foods on the table.

happy birthday rory gilmore ! ft. @littlelorelaii

    red lips fumble together in a mash of words as he can see that her brows are furrowing with the notion of discomfort —- possibly cursing the very idea that she’s squashed in a closet, hangers poking into the swell of her cheek while being coveted by a boy reaching six foot four. the confined space is dark, the only spare lighting raining in by their feet holding the nearest party cries. and what a party this was, for him at least, to be within such proximity to a girl who couldn’t stand to be in his presence for more than a minute. he enjoyed the chase in the beginning, namely just to see how red her cheeks could get and to catch the strong crease in her brow once eye contact was kept. the flourish of something more presented itself to the godfrey heir in an untimely basis; the concept of feelings had been lost to a void at a young age, however, rory gilmore had forcefully inserted herself into his life during a moment of solitude. the way her books had rammed against his chest, erasing the need for proper introduction, reflected the soft hammering of his heart while presented with a sudden chance to act on his infatuation.

    before she could blame him for spinning the bottle deliberately in her direction, words are swallowed in the union of a kiss. his movements are rushed, palms warm as they stutter for a second to find the nape of her neck. none of it seems to matter while he tastes the frighteningly red punch and the stolen swipe of frosting from her birthday cake, a soft flick of a tongue tasting with an unusual sway in confidence. there’s a fleeting moment where roman can convince himself that there’s a pressure against his own, that her head has tilted to compliment the kiss, that nimble fingers have hooked onto his collar to pull him closer. the notion crumbles when knuckles press into his chest, lips detaching with the sudden force to tear them apart. however, the smile that graced his permanently brooding expression appeared pompous and sly, masking the genuine relief of his true feelings brought to light.

    “it’s the name of the game,” and perhaps he did reach a small second of nirvana in a space where she couldn’t, shouldn’t, have hated him. “happy seventeenth, blue eyes.”

heart pounded against her chest a million miles a minute as the door was shut behind them, the ooh’s and ahh’s from the rest of the party-goers doing nothing to ease her nerves. rory knew the ramifications of agreeing to such a game when the idea had been presented to her, that much was obvious, but the outcome of the childish game was not she’d come to expect. the one person in the room that she would have done anything to escape from back at school, now invited out of the sheer goodwill of her heart, both of them stuck in the closet for a whole seven minutes. no more, no less, as the rest of the gang so kindly reminded as the two of them made their grand entrance into the enclosed space. the only way she knew how to describe how she was feeling was STRANGE— strange that the thought of him being mere inches from her face at any given angle wasn’t making her want to tear off her skin, but also strange that she hadn’t once made a wise crack in retaliation to being stuck there with him. maybe, just maybe, the fact that she was stuck in there wasn’t that bad. or maybe she’d begun to lose her mind. no, no. she couldn’t have feelings for him. she was supposed to hate him!

rory opened her mouth to speak, no doubt to crack a joke to lighten the mood, only to be met with the crashing force of plump lips against her own. eyes widened at the motion, the strange sensation in her stomach seemingly multiplying as his hands found their way to her neck. against her better judgement she allowed the kiss to take place, not daring to move an inch during the first few moments. it wasn’t until what seemed like an eternity had passed did rory raise her hands from either side of her body to push him away from the kiss and yet for first time in her life she was speechless. she felt as if she was going to be sick, her brain not capable of processing what she was feeling in that moment in time. and yet as she kept both her palms against her chest her mind continued to run a million miles a minute—even more so than usual—as the two options of what she could do weighed on her mind.

@littlelorelaii​ has ruined national cheeseburger day !

   “hey, hey ! i didn’t say anything about sharing.” skin tightens around elbows, bringing the greasy patty closer to his chest as condiments threaten to fall out of the sliding bun. mickey’s grip is locked, a red pang of irritation clouding his relaxed state as rory, once again, intended to torture the man for their past food feud. “just because we’re together doesn’t mean you get dibs on everything i have ——- you snooze you lose, pipsqueak. order your own damn food !”

lil’ starter for @littlelorelaii

    pants are cuffed all the way up to his knees but the haphazard bunching of the fabric does nothing to help it avoid shallow ripples. he’s wading in the lake, pebbles sticking to the underside of his feet, strengthening the frown etched deeply into his skin. wrinkled fingers sway in the swell of the water, reaching to essentially nab something worth his while and to prove this honest trade to the woman perched on the wooden bridge. 

    “ you gotta have the eye for it, gilmore. luckily, i’ve been practicing for this moment. ” he wades back, now approaching her submerged ankles, hands tucked close to his chest with the valuable smattering of rocks. fingers pinch the largest one of the bunch, holding it up to direct sunlight, a green hue scrunched in order to carefully inspect. “ this ‘un’s pretty, huh? now, imagine it’s the biggest shell you’ve ever seen. pink and PERFECT for all the gator-lovers and tourists to get their hands on. they won’t be able to resist me. ”

a yawn escapes from the back of her throat as she sat there hovered over the bridge with her feet swaying back and forth. rory didn’t even bother to give a glance in mickey’s direction once his hand went underneath the depths of the water; she didn’t need to graduate from yale to know that his actions had something to do with seashells. her eyes focused straight ahead up in the golden sky as the sun set over the horizon, not able to hide the grin that began to creep onto her lips at the thought of her swaying feet making his task potentially more difficult. that’s what he got for always taking her sweets.

“Rory,” he smiles softly as he tilts his head. He’s repeating himself and he hates that he is. He doesn’t know what to say, and he knows the look in her eye and the non-verbal is not her style unless something is wrong. She’s speechless, and even Jess is catching on to something else. He wants to know but he doesn’t want to push. “What’s wrong?” he asked sternly. “You okay?” he asked softly. His hand reaches out and barely grazes her forearm. He’s only taken one tiny step forward and doesn’t move any closer. He’s worried, and he’s gentle with her. “A bus to Philly huh? Sounds like some adventure,” he murmured. He shakes his head and gives her another smile. “Nah, I was just on my way to get something at this cafe down the street. You wanna join me?” 

@littlelorelaii // liked for a starter ! 

     “RORY.” His voice cracks around her name, and he can only chew on the inside of his lip. Immediately, he clears his throat to coat the irritation that it seems like he might have a cold. He’s always surprised to see her, and even in the worst or best cases; Jess has never once hated to see her – as painful as it can be, or how her smile could outshine any darkness that the world throws at him – he’s still standing right in front of her with a book in his back pocket. “Hey.” It’s such a solemn greeting, he still wonders how she feels after all. “Ha – what are you doing here? Kind of crazy.” 

open to all - mickey sullivan.

cheeks stuffed with sweet dough and sprinkled icing, mickey found himself having a better morning than he anticipated. he washed the bites down with a swirl of coffee that was more flavoured creamer than the actual beverage – nothing could combat the man’s sweet tooth, no matter how many donuts he ingested. mopping up the remnants of strawberry icing at his lips with a denim sleeve, mick’s bulbous eyes searched for something to fixate on. he realized soon enough that he was being scrutinized by another patron at the diner. eleven in the morning and he was already making enemies, something that could’ve been avoided if he hadn’t feasted on every pastry in sight. 

“take a picture, why don’t you? i got somethin’ on my face or what.” mick leaned against the tabletop, invading the direction they sat in with a defensive snarl sitting in his words. yes, he ate the entire dish of donuts and no, he wasn’t going to apologize.

lukes diner: the home away from home that gave her sustenance over the years, sparing her a slow and painful death of starvation. she’d always been the type to avoid confrontation, if at all possible, but unbeknownst to rory that was all going to change the moment she walked into the establishment like she owned the place. it was still be awhile until her mom managed to get away from the dragonfly on her lunch break, and being the loving daughter that she was, decided to think ahead and grab their doughnuts and two cups of coffee only to be met with the devastating news of them being sold out— and like most other only children, she didn’t take kindly to being told no— as if she’d ever been told that word in her entire life. mickey was going down.

“you have a little somethin’ on your face, yeah. you look like homer simpson after he gets done eating his doughnuts with the sprinkles.” no, no. she was supposed to be upset with him! shifting her weight so she was sitting up straight, rory tried her best to look and sound as intimidating as mickey. “you.... took my doughnuts. those were mine.”

closed starter for @littlelorelaii

auden leaned over the counter, bracelets jangling against her wrist while she stretched her arm out. this was the fourth – no, the fifth cup of coffee she poured for the woman in twenty minutes. soon enough, auden would have to make another batch before the afternoon crowd came in and busted her ass with their lunch orders. she couldn’t find an ounce of will to mouth off the petite brunette with her nose tucked into a book, the flame of assertive nature fizzling down once she realized how harmless this girl must be. miss. jones, imposing as ever, hoisted herself up onto the surface to get a proper look at the title of the book. pursed red lips kept her patience in order, the seconds ticking by until the unsuspecting customer finally noticed her stare.

“so, are you charging yourself up for a double-shift or what?”

rory never claimed to be the most observant person. normally she would at least notice events going on around her, but once her head was focused inside a book, she became the most self-absorbed person in the world. that much was true the moment she stumbled upon the diner during her travels for work, sucked in on the idea of comfort from the familiarity of such an establishment. one hand holding the book, the other resting upon the mugs handle, she didn’t even notice when auden hopped onto counter. moments continued to pass until she finally got to the end of the page, and it was then and only then, was her focus broken to look towards her nearly empty cup of coffee— 

     “i’m ready to try again, if you are?”  the words come quietly — slowly and carefully and more-than-halfway scared. asking for more — asking for anything from anybody — is always terrifying.    //    @littlelorelaii  /  STARTER CALL  ;  closed 

smoke furled from his lips as he stood, roman’s stare narrowing at her sounding bite with a hint of curiosity. the shade of the ashes bloomed into virescence while the smoke cleared, eyes rolled lower to acknowledge the hefty stack of books and papers that were latched onto by a firm grip. the more he regarded the girl, the more he picked up on her urgency to leave. the reddened flush to her cheeks took up most of his sight and a side-step blocked her path. roman’s own cynicism came quickly and the bubbled froth spilled over into the passive demeanor all because roman was bored and the girl, rory, was there. he liked the sudden attention, the retort as opposed to a hasty shuffle past. she had taken the time to acknowledge him, and in his fit of craving for another person to talk to, the boy latched onto every bit he could take.

“whatever,” he drawled. the chunked strands of brown hair were brushed back, remnants of the warmed pomade making it stick to the rest of his skull — for a few seconds anyway. another drag, another budge of the body and roman ensured that the girl couldn’t slip past even if she pushed against his chest. this was his time now, the ten minutes between classes rightful property under the guise of godfrey. “i’ve seen you running around school. do you ever take a break, blue-eyes? you treat this place like your own fucking playground.”

a break— he didn’t seriously bring up the idea of taking a break, did he? she must have misunderstood or else roman was at serious risk of her biting his own head off his shoulders. normally the brunette would have paid no mind to such attention seeking behavior, especially not when she managed to plan out her every waking moment from now until september, but there was something in his mannerisms that reminded her of her boyfriend. ex-boyfriend, as rory still needed to come with terms with. she could have walked past him without so much as a retort from her mouth, but evidently her anger needed to go somewhere other than bubbling within her frame. “whatever? is that the best you can do? if i didn’t know any better i’d have guessed you were related to boo radley.”

open to all.

the heat of the summer was at its height, the yearn for vacation and mainly graduation itching under his skin. sweat had pooled at the roots of his hair, the slicked-back style long undone for now tufts of the light brown hair pooled into his eyeline. roman crouched himself on the steps of a back entrance, lounging out on the concrete without a care for the tailor that had hand-crafted his suit jacket. with complete disregard for the humid air as well as the sheen of dampness that laid over his skin, roman lit up a spliff. he waited to feel the ignition of the heat that burned at the bottom of his throat, pulling the vapor of the leaves deep into his system. he needed this: the cloak that strengthened his carelessness and alleviated the unconscious anxiety that gnawed at his brain. because, man, he was having weird dreams.

the filter sat, tucked in carefully with the wet saliva seeping into the crevice of his mouth. a slow creak gained his attention, glancing back at the figure who had perched open the weight of the door. they stared back, prompting a raise of the brow.

“if i hear one more word of brontë, ‘m gonna blow my fucking brains out.”

between switching schools at the start of senior year, the stress of college applications, and the upcoming finals it was safe to say that rory gilmore was stressed. she’d been running around the school — and at home, like her mother liked to point out — like a chicken with their head cut off for the past few weeks. there was always something else to do or someone else to make connections with; none of which matted if she failed her finals. she had every moment planned from now until graduation. what she hadn’t planned, was the fact that a certain someone decided to practically block the back entrance: roman godfrey. there went her plan to take a shortcut and save some time with her demanding schedule. she gripped the books in her arms even tighter, pulling them in close to her body as she stared, the smell of the smoke assaulting her senses.

                                         ❝ I’M NOT BACK! ❞

ANIMAL: deer. COLOR(S): navy, orange. MONTH: october. SONG: with a little help from my friends - the beatles. NUMBER: 2. DAY OR NIGHT: day. PLANT: sunflowers. SMELL: fresh brewed coffee and the pages of old books. GEMSTONE: peridot. SEASON: fall. PLACE: stars hollow.  FOOD: tacos, cherry danish, mac & cheese, any and all junk food. ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: libra. ELEMENT(S): earth. DRINK: coffee coffee coffee, vodka martini.