Dear Mun

For Sanctuary fans who are not into incest fic, triciabyrne1978 have started a comm focused on the female characters of Sanctuary.

templumanilitas

If there's interest in a Dreamwidth mirror, please let us know. :)

Neither of us are judging people who are interested in Sanctuary incest fic, but, from what we've heard around the fandom, there's definitely a desire for a place where people won't run into that.

This entry has been cross-posted. Comments are welcome on either post.

I have a morose in my heart place.



Comment below and I will tell you which of your characters that I've played against are my favorites and why I love them. Then repost this in your own journal.

The daylight was fading into the early evening hours. The dun blanket of night tucked in the city of London with as much care as any mother might her child. If one looked close enough, in the hustle and bustle of the early evening hours, one might notice a womanly shadow jumping down from the steps of a hackney coach. The woman paid the driver, then he sped away, off to the next well-pocketed passenger. The woman paused for a moment, dusting off her dress with one hand, and squinting at the scrap of paper in the other.

Yes, this would have to be his lodgings, she surmised, looking doubtfully at the building. She hoped in the early evening hours to catch the erstwhile English professor before he left his abode. This was going to be, she knew, more discomfiting than it might had he not been who he was. Why she had even to tell him of this new position--this new hope--she could never say. But surely he would not mind? After all, neither party had made any promises the one to the other. Sure, various fanciful notions had been tossed back and forth, but was that not that common in such things?

She bowed her head a moment, then took brisk, confident steps to the tenement. It would be nothing to him, and indeed it was less than nothing to her. What she had done with him--well, it was little more than passing fancy, and so must pass. Besides, new fortune awaited.

The interior of John Abbott's home made for a sanctuary of sorts. Each wall held up paintings or shelves. Books and journals lined the flat surfaces of those. His furnishings crowded the space, more a nest for the vampire's fleeting interests than a proper apartment. Necessities, such as a shaving stand, were crowded between superfluous items, like a globe and a wooden lectern. When the sun slipped behind his building, it became quite dark, but he kept his curtains open so he could view the street below and any passersby. If a coach stopped outside, John often went to see who was coming or going, provided he wasn't absorbed in a task.

( Never a Positive Omen )

( Strange Logic )

"Sasha." The vampire reached for a lock of silky hair, rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. The twenty-four-year old's hair was like a red sunset. It was dyed. He knew that bit without a doubt, didn't he?

He met her in New York, or rather, saw her there and began to follow her. A few days, nothing overt, enough to overhear of an impending vacation to Key West and a stay at the Westin. A signature on a restaurant check told him her name. They took separate flights. He found her in a bar on Duval Street. After a flirtatious introduction and drinks, they walked back to her hotel room, where he sat her on the bathroom sink (thank God she didn't turn around and check her make-up in the mirror). A slap-happy mess of intoxication and dehydration from the sun, she bunched her skirt around her waist and wiggled out of her panties. They dangled from her toes, which a nail technician had decorated with palm trees.

She smelled like coconut.

( Mysterious Visitor )

( An Entity With Many Names )