Wednesday, November 13, 2002

I've been v busy, so if anyone's actually reading this (I bet it's the government keeping tabs on me anyway) I'm sorry.

I've been looking at 'Fame' stuff. I heart 'Fame'. My favourite character is Montgomery (Paul McCrane).

I can never reproduce. I'd be tempted to name the poor kid 'Montgomery', or 'Sirius', or something totally wierd and stemming from one of my many obsessions.

I had a dream a while back. About Monk (USA show). It was really, really cool. I think I have some sort of bizarre crush on Tony Shalhoub. Maza dreamed she was Sherlock Holmes the night before. Next thing you know, Rosamund will spend her nights ordering Archie Goodwin around and drinking beer. Maybe she does that now...

Tuesday, October 08, 2002

Rosamund Midnight: I took the test, too. I'm WOLFE, with the appetites to match.
Took Maza's test. I'm MONK. Monky-monk-monk. Yo, Adrian! Maza herself is Sherlock Holmes. As if there was ever any doubt. She's currently hunting down Dark Lady Bishoujo, the perpetual slacker.

Friday, September 27, 2002

Well, now my Apollo/Midnighter site's working. Now that I posted the story here.

My life is, officially, a cosmic joke.

I'm missing an antiquarian book fair this weekend. It's in Sacramento, and I hope somebody out there's lucky enough to go.
All right, I'm starting a story. Right now. This would have gone with my Authority stuff, but that's not working properly, so I wont bother with it now.

'Lost Boys'

//Lost Boys and Golden Girls, down on the corner, all around the world
Lost Boys and Golden Girls, down on the corner and all around, all around the world//*

"So what's the plan tonight?" Apollo asked, tilting his head to the side. "I assume you know where we're hiding out until we move on already. You always do. Sleeping under a bridge? Condemned building?"

"Local Y." The Midnighter answered, not looking at his companion.

"Wait, you mean-- someplace with real plumbing and climate control? And sleeping on a cot or something?"

"There is one. And I should eat something. We've been on the run almost four months, and I haven't eaten anything."

"I thought you didn't need to eat."

"Not as often as most people, but I don't live off sunlight like you do."

They continued walking in silence for a while. Apollo, as always, was the one to break it. "A shower would be nice. Four months of accumulated grime isn't pretty on anyone, whether or not they sweat like normal people."

"Yeah." Midnighter said tersely.

"I get the feeling you still don't like me much."

"I don't like anyone much. Don't feel special."

"After you saved my life, I thought--"

"I don't dislike you, Apollo."

"Coming from you that's a lot, isn't it?"



Apollo walked over to where the Midnighter was sitting, absolutely still and silent. "Showers are pretty empty. If you want--"


"What, are you doing something?"



"I'm being alone. It's a hobby for me." He snapped. It was, like seemingly everything else about him, a defense mechanism. He couldn't tell Apollo the truth, because the truth was that he had been thinking about him. Wistfully, tenderly, thouroughly un-Midnighter-ly thinking about another person. Another man. Another, incredibly beautiful, incredibly powerful, and all around incredible man that he had to continue to act indifferent towards.

"Okay. I'm going to sleep for a while, I guess. Wanna patrol later?"

"Sure. Pre-dawn, give me a couple hours to... get ready or something."


Apollo woke up just before one, to the sound of running water in the nearby showers. He turned to comment to Midnighter, but of course he wasn't there. Apollo guessed he was the source of the noise. Just like him to shower in the middle of the night to avoid any and all other people. It made sense, really, since he never let anyone see him without the mask.

He knew he shouldn't, and he knew he'd feel guilty if he did, but he also knew he'd never forgive himself if he didn't, so Apollo crept as quietly as possible to the door, a few feet from his cot. He could clearly see the Midnighter from the waist up, mask off, water running down his face, eyes closed. The scars were barely visible, and he couldn't understand what made the other man so self-conscious. He did understand the rising feeling in the pit of his stomach, though, and he had long ago accepted the fact that he had feelings for Midnighter. He hadn't expected them to kick in so violently, though, or for his breath to catch in his throat. His cheeks flushed rosy-gold, he turned and went back to bed.


There was a sound outside, and the Midnighter immediately recognized it as Apollo. So he was awake already. Well, good a time as any to go out. He towelled off, dressed, and walked over to where they had staked out spots.

"Hey. You still awake?"


"Heard you moving around. Ready?"

"Yeah." Apollo nodded, still somewhat embarrassed. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"You okay? You seem a little off."

"I'm fine." Another blush started to glow on his cheeks. "I'll be fine. Let's go."

//Lost Boys and Golden Girls, if there's one thing about them it's true
They'll never let a night like tonight go to waste, and let me tell you something, neither will you
Neither will you//

*Lyrics come from MeatLoaf's 'Lost Boys and Golden Girls'

Tuesday, September 24, 2002

My Authority blog is still 'not found'. This makes me very angry...

I've got my costume, though.

Monday, September 23, 2002

It still says not found. Gr-argh! I need my Apollo/Midnighter shrine up!
All right, the link thing I tried earlier, didn't work. So please, is my other blog. Hopefully, that will work.
There's a renfaire coming up in my area, and I can't go. *sigh*. Ah well, all's fair in love and war, and the renfaire's got both.

Rosamund Midnight
You know what's good? Holmes/Watson stuff. And yes, the / means slash. Kitty turned me onto h/w, h/w turned me on, and thanks to her I watched 'The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes' and cursed the involvement of a woman in the whole thing. Of course, rereading the stories, I see them in a whole new light. And I still need to find 'Three Garridebs', because I haven't read it yet, and I've heard it's got slashy moments. Well, that's all the rambling I'll do for now.

Very Sincerely Yours,
Maza Blue

Saturday, September 21, 2002

(This is, in actuality, Thom posting.)

A dry heat hung in the air, oppressive but, thankfully, not humid, and when I turned the corner, I caught the slightest cool breeze. The voice that narrated action in my head was deep and rich, like MeatLoaf. I was walking to the library with MeatLoaf in my head. There was nothing of note in my inbox, and I had limited time to use their computer. That takes us to the present, and to these words I am typing now. Thank you for partaking in my fevered brain.
I've got a second blog now, this one devoted to Apollo and the Midnighter. Please check it out, and I promise it can only get better.

Friday, September 20, 2002

Ginger Power!

No! This has nothing to do with the first rat to abandon a sinking Spice ship, it's because three out of five of my contributors are redheads. Thom's got sort of mousy brown hair, and Dark Lady Bishoujo's is currently black, but I've got red hair (think Scully), Rosamund's a ginger, and Maza's is dark red. So today's post is all about the redheads, baby.

Redheads are naturally superior and incredibly beautiful. In some cultures, a redhead was a candidate for vampirism after death. Rosamund supports this belief, as do I, and I'll admit to scaring people. In fact, I'll brag about it. I scare people.