There is something so special to me about Logan encouraging Rory to not just be an observer of the world around her, but to also take part in it. She's used to being on the outskirts, silently watching the lives of her mom, grandparents, friends, town, etc. and existing in her own bubble.
(I think that's part of why I love latter seasons Rory. During the second half of the show, her world gets a hell of a lot bigger and she has face the fact that there is a world beyond Stars Hollow [including her mom and Dean].)
Anyways, I just think there is a lot of beauty in her scene with Logan right before they jump off the platform. She exists in this comforting state of observation and distance, believing that's all she needs to be a good journalist. And then you have Logan telling her all of the great journalists who didn't get their stories from standing on the sidelines, but from getting in the mud. They weren't just passive in their writings, they were active participants (something Rory had been struggling with since her affair with Dean in s4).
He's offering her an opportunity with an open hand, and she takes it! She's scared as hell, but she takes it!
Oh my god, Rory. I have question. I’m grinning so wide because I knooowwww how uncomfortable you would get with this question AND how uncomfortable you will get when I say that I have a question.
I know this is tumblr but I want to say this to you so badly and I have to send it somewhere or else I’ll fucking explode with energy.
God I'm tired, but I really want to talk about the direct line of creation from Jupiter to Rory, because Jupiter was the last character I made before I went on hiatus and Rory was the first I made when I came back, and the influence that Jupiter had on Rory is heavy and crystal clear. Thing is, Jupiter was a catastrophic character for me to play and get into the head of, while Rory was revelatory.
“You can be a thousand different women. It’s your choice which one you want to be.”
Twenty-one may seem mighty big and small at the same time, but it is a testimonial of the life you have enjoyed, and how much there is left to explore. Happy birthday, friend! @verorax
Levi strode into the pet rooms in the basement. “So...” He began, watching as a few of the pets scurried away. “You’re the pet Az brought in.”
“Looks like we need to get a few things straight here, little one. First of all...Azrael belongs to me. So don’t even think about trying to steal him from me because it won’t work. Second of all...well that was really the only rule.”
Prem felt like the ground beneath him was crumbling. He felt like he was falling. The edges of his vision darkened, and he was getting enveloped in the shadows. He ached. Every time he tried to breath, it felt like a knife twisted in his chest.
Suddenly, there was a muffled voice. He tried to make out the words, tried to find where it was coming from.
And then there he was. He was kneeling right in front of him. Just minutes earlier, this same boy stood with the rest of them, taking shot after shot in Prem's direction.
This was it. He'd made it centuries, dodging hunters and this was his time to go.
"You need to get out of here," Prem finally made out the words just as the boy started grabbing at him, getting him to his feet. "Please, come on. They'll kill you." Prem was confused - beyond so - but he was being given a chance and his instinct kicked in. He needed to leave, but he could barely stand, let alone flee. "Do not make me regret this," Prem watched in silence as the boy produced a packet knife and swiftly cut his palm. The blood started to seep out and Prem had to tear his eyes away from the sight.
He matched the boys hard stare.
"Why?" was all he could ask.
"Because I've seen you. You're different. We don't have any right to murder you." Prem's eyebrow twitched. He couldn't refuse. He was dying.
The boy's hand was warm as Prem took it into his grasp, sure his cold temperature was startling to the other. As soon as his lips pressed against his palm, Prem felt like he was on fire. The white hot burn flowed through him in a flash. He felt his strength slowly return as the hot liquid pooled in his mouth. He knew he had to stop or else he would bleed that boy dry.
He shoved the hand away from himself forcefully. "Are you sure that's enough?" Prem couldn't help but let out a low growl at this... boy. He didn't seem fazed at all.
"That's enough," He paused, wiping his mouth on his tattered sleeve. "Thank you..."
"Wad. Now fucking haul ass," he told him, shoving his hand in his pocket and turning swiftly away. Prem didn't hesitate to do the same, however he spared a quick glance back just to see him turn the corner. Prem dodged around the basement he had hid in and lifted himself out the window. He ran as fast as he could to the safe house.
Prem ended up recovering in a few days. He should have been dead. Those hunters had him in their grasp, but they were betrayed by one of their own. Prem couldn't stop thinking about him. Wad. Did he usually go out of his way to save whatever monster his cronies were trying to kill? Or was Prem an exception? Did he really mean what he had said?
Prem knew that he was different. They all were. He, Tuta, and Knot didn't feed on humans. They were taught not to. They didn't have to. But how did Wad know that?
Prem buried his face in his hands. The safe house was only meant to be a shelter, they didn't have a lot of food. He needed to go out and hunt. He was momentarily glad that there were so many deer in the area, but as he stood and his whole body ached, he sighed. He certainly didn't feel like hunting.
And he had a taste for something else.
Prem shook his head, willing those thoughts away. He only did it because the boy offered. He only did it because he was dead if he didn't.
He shrugged on his jacket, knowing the air was crisp and cool outside, and he grabbed the crossbow from what was supposed to be a coat rack. He then set off, out the front door.
He surveyed the area, the woods were fairly dense around the safe house and he felt an aura of calm around him. He took a deep breath and walked forward to go find some food.
He hunted quietly. He killed a small deer and fed right then, not wanting to take it all the way back to the house.
He just about jumped out of his skin when a shrill noise ripped him from the otherwise quiet atmosphere. It was a laugh. Prem furrowed his brow and looked in the direction that it came from. He hesitantly raised his crossbow as he inched forward.
The laughter turned into various whoops and taunts. It almost sounded like two high school bullies picking on a classmate. His heart dropped when he crept upon the scene.
Wad.
Wad was on the ground, trapped by two circling men. Prem recognized them immediately as well. He seethed at the thought of those two vampires. They had no qualms with killing humans; they sometimes killed for the fun of it. It made Prem sick.
Without thinking, an arrow left his bow and ended up right in the chest of one of the men. He was far enough away that they didn't even see where it had come from. The man stumbled back, dazed and confused, unable to pull the arrow from his sternum.
Prem reloaded and aimed for the other. He got him in the shoulder.
"Fuck, his friends must have found him. Go!" one of them yelled and they took off, away from where Prem was. He hesitated. He cautiously stepped forward, Wad unmoving on the ground. He was staring intently at his leg and breathing heavily.
"You didn't have to do that," he said without looking up.
"Just returning a favor." Prem replied quietly. "You find yourself out in the woods often?" Prem was sitting next to him then. He could now see that Wad's leg was broken; a compound fracture. Prem winced, imagining what kind of pain Wad must be feeling.
"More than you'd think," Wad said, finally looking to meet Prem's eyes. He was smiling softly, which surprised Prem greatly.
"Come on," Prem made a motion towards Wad, who flinched back. "Please, let me help you. You need to get out of here," he continued, a strange wave of deja-vu crashing over him. Wad stared at him, hard, for a moment. He then nodded curtly. Prem slung his cross bow over his shoulder and leaned down. He ended up lifting Wad up, as carefully as possible, bridal style. He tried to keep his legs supported. Wad wrapped his arm around Prem’s shoulder to hold on. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, neither knowing what quite to say or quite what to feel.
Prem shifted his attention in front of him, and made his way through the trees.
