So... that was that, then. Jono gave a look around the room that he'd been staying in for the past two weeks Glacia time, and then another look at the bag he'd thrown together, mostly full of supplies for Joni and a few changes of clothes, before sitting himself down on the edge of his bed, his collar in several pieces beside him. It was always a ( Read more... )

Jono could go to the meet and greet, where he'd feel horribly uncomfortable surrounded by strangers in the pollen compounded with that general sense of unease that he got at those functions anyway. Or he could finally actually acquaint himself with his new office, right next door to the old one, and if parents and other assorted visitors cared so ( Read more... )

Ah, another Saturday morning on Fandom Island. So, another radio broadcast about the same. Really, if you don't know the drill by now, my sympathies, welcome to Fandom, and watch what you say in the company of squirrels. I'm Jonothon Starsmore, and this is the news ( Read more... )

I feel weird posting advertisements over here, but since they got their start over here in FH and they might be relevant to some people's interests...

I've opened up Fairy Icon commissions over at my personal journal, five bucks a pop, for... pretty much today only, before the work week and BBC animation swallow up my brain again. The post is ( Read more... )

To say that Jonothon felt like hell would have been a gross understatement. He'd been to plenty of places that could very well be described as 'hell,' and the way he'd been feeling since he came to after Karla's sleep spell was something well and truly beyond all of that ( Read more... )

Armin had been the first of the Blood in Jonothon's group to panic and run through the shield. He hadn't been the last. Steadily, one by one, the Blood on the team had given in to the psychic battering that the witchblood was unleashing upon them, and more landens had fallen along the way, either to psychic cries of pain, or to their own fatigue, ( Read more... )

*North,* urged a voice in Jonothon's head, the voice of the Rose-Jeweled Warlord that Warren was communicating through. He was starting to sound about as ragged as Jonothon felt, pressing onward at a pace that wasn't quite a run, urging his troops to move more quickly. *The smoke is practically on top of you, but so long as the wind doesn't change ( Read more... )

It had become routine by now for Jono and his troops. There would be a distress call from a village in the North, a settlement that was being torn apart or worse by Hobart's men in an effort to bully them out of their loyalties to Karla. Any one of the several groups that Jonothon had stationed up North, whoever was closest, would answer the call. ( Read more... )

It had taken longer than Jonothon had intended to get back to Glacia. He'd left Fandom late, finding it more difficult than usual to will himself out of bed on Monday morning. And then there had been the ridiculous Portalocity itinerary that, really, he would just rather never think about again. He had seen a lot of bloody terrifying things in his ( Read more... )

Jonothon knew he had to pace himself.

Logically, anyhow, Jonothon knew he had to pace himself. He'd been pushing himself for days now, since coming back from the island, and on more than one occasion he'd forgotten to eat. He wasn't even going to bother trying to sleep. He knew what happened when he slept, and for as much as he enjoyed dreaming ( Read more... )