#iwtv#interview with the vampire#amc tvl#sam reid#jacob anderson
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Some character refs they’re all together bc I’m too tired and lazy to post them all individually
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Told y'all there'd be more oc refs incoming lmao
How I imagine Charlie and Wally Looking!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/15692634/chapters/36465804
made at RINMARUGAMES
http://www.rinmarugames.com/all_games.php?category=16
Ölümün rengi siya, hasretin rengi zifirli karanlik.
Whoops I posted these on insta earlier and forgot to do the same here lmao
Added some animal forms for these girls! (And coloured Lennel)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Nice thing about quarantine is I have plenty of time for character refs
He has a cat’s ability to nap anywhere. At present he’s slumped over the pile of kitbags, soaking up what wan sunlight this world receives. One arm supports his head, the other partially shields his face. The wrists are crossed where they meet, hands dangling over the edge of the pile. He looks more relaxed than she ever manages. Vulnerable. Fragile. She feeds him double rations whenever she can, but his scarred wrists are still stick-thin.
She wonders, sometimes, who he was before the Inquisition happened to him. It’s not a productive question. He’s far too cowed to answer even if she were cruel enough to ask. And if she did find out, it probably wouldn’t end well for either of them. But she still wonders.
She catches glimpses sometimes, she thinks. Though perhaps it’s more who he is now than who he used to be. Glimpses of something more genuine, certainly, than the cringing, servile role that’s been stamped over his personality. The quiet exasperation in his eyes when the team are being stupid, that he’d never dare to show if he thought anyone was watching. The little wince of empathy when others talk about their misfortune. The hard satisfaction when they put down some of the worst heretic scum. And the way he stares solemnly into the darkness sometimes. Something meaningful is clearly going on behind that fathomless gaze. But she wouldn’t dream of asking. It’s private. And how much privacy does he get to have? Almost none.
By the same token, she knows she will never get to see more than glimpses of who he really is. Those defensive walls of submission and self-negation and frantic compliance would slam back into place as soon as she so much as hinted she could see past them. And with good reason. How could he trust, after what’s been done to him? No, it would be an unforgivable violence against him to pry into his secret, private self.
So she resigns herself to not knowing him. Still, she does what she can to make his life easier. She can’t save him. She’s just as much a slave to the pitiless Inquisition as he is, she knows. It’s only good fortune that has granted her the illusion of freedom and spared her the Interrogator’s dungeons. She’s in no hurry to sacrifice her privileges for a doomed attempt at improving his lot. She can’t save him, and she won’t disrupt the fragile equilibrium of his existence by trying. But she can feed him when he’s entrusted to her custody, and do her best to keep him out of the line of fire, and watch when he sleeps to make sure the others don’t disturb him. It’s pitifully little. But he appreciates it, she can tell.
And maybe she can even convince herself that it’s the most she can do for him. That she couldn’t do more without risk of making things worse. Maybe, if she keeps trying, she can banish the guilt.
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