Cold Shoulder

Voicemail / Disclaimer

When the voicemail picks up, it's a girl's voice that speaks;

"Hi, this is Jono Starsmore's phone. Please leave a message and he'll get back to you. Thanks!"


In creating this journal, the author has assumed the identity of a fictional person for use in the role-playing game fandomhigh, for the sole purpose of entertainment, without intending to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud either the person who created the fictional person, or any reader of this content. The author does not purport to be the creator of the fictional person, or to be affiliated with the creator, or with any person or entity with an interest in the fictional person.
Back to being Invisible

Hannibal's House (That Jono Has Taken Over Out Of Paranoia), Wednesday Late Afternoon

Right. So. The island was doing a thing. And Jono had no idea what that thing was, but that wasn't stopping him from being paranoid enough to invite Alluka to spend the night.

Alluka and whatever friends she wanted to bring. Which had mostly been a catch-all for her stuffed animals, but an open invitation for her to drag along real, living classmates. You know. For a sleepover party. And not at all because Jono was defaulting to crazy person mode and doing that thing he did where students might potentially be in danger, and he had to be there to keep that danger at bay at all times.

... Much.

Okay, he was hovering. But considering the way the island was beating at his senses as though it was doubling up on its usual crazy, he figured nobody would blame him. Okay, Hannibal might. It was his living room they were taking over, after all.

To hell with it. There were going to be cookies.

[OOC: It's an end of the world sleepover party! Hosted by teachers who are fully aware of how weird that looks without context. But it's also an open post! Because LJ ISN'T BLOCKED AT THE NEW STUDIO IT'S A MIRACLE I'm getting any work done. No OCD because pfft. But feel free to bop in and make things messy.]

The Boards, Monday Morning

Hannibal was at the Boards. Could he count that as a win? He had his ID and wedding vows in his pocket with the ring. The pocket which had caught on a closing door handle and caused the entire seam to tear.

Jono! he called mentally as he cursed out loud. Is the tailor here yet? If they could catch him to tack the damn thing together…

Collapse )

[OOC: Co-written with never_dull, and NFI! The wedding is, unsurprisingly, off. There'll be a Halloween party post later, though, because PartyPartyParty.]
One of those days

Jono's Office, Saturday

Ah, Parents' Weekend. Jono probably should have left a note on his office door with directions to the Groovy Tunes today, since he did have a bloody business to run, but when he showed up for work that morning there were some little blue men with a few complaints to lodge about one of his employees... harassing them with a rose? Jono had taken those complaints more or less in stride and had left the shop again on a note that was something along the lines of, 'there are worse problems to have than somebody trying to give you flowers.'

They hadn't been pleased, but honestly, they hadn't been invited anyway.

So, now he was sitting in his office with his face wrapped, feeling itchy and confined and generally annoyed, but he was here to put on a pleasant face (ha) for any visiting parents or... whatever.

Let's be real. Around here, the emphasis was almost usually on 'whatever.'

[OOC: Open!]

Hannibal's House (In Which Jono Pretends to be Computer Illiterate), Wednesday Afternoon

Jono was bored. Bored out of the half of his bloody skull that he still had left. And normally when he was that bored, he found something to do. Generally, it was even something stupid to do. Go back to Westchester to see if Logan needed help with the students, pick a fight with something much larger than himself, contemplate a career in the entertainment industry...

Jono did not do stupid by halves, really.

Today, none of those things really appealed. Jono was extra bored. Which meant that he was going to do something drastic. Today, Jonothon was going to flop backward on the sofa, pull out his phone, and browse Twitter. Twitter, where he was following mostly bands, music news feeds, actual news feeds, the occasional member of the X-Men or Fandomite, and a museum or two.

The horror.

//Huh,// he muttered as he scrolled by a tweet by the French Archives. //Beak and all.//

[OOC: When the Archives de France uses a screencap from your fake fiance's canon to advertise a lecture on gastronomy, that is an opportunity that cannot be passed up. Open!]

Hannibal's House (That Jono Has Never Been a Pony In), Sunday Evening

Jono was tired. Jono was tired, and cranky, and he had a lollipop sticking out of his hair, a pocket full of bottlecaps and small seashells, an actual pirate cutlass from the seventeenth century at his hip, a bright blue frog on one shoulder, three Pokémon gym badges (he'd bid a fond farewell to the Vulpix, Raticate, and Ekans he'd won them with when he caught his connecting portal out of Vermillion), a whole array of paint splatters across his clothing, a small armload of rare records on vinyl, a sunburn, and a complimentary voucher in his pocket for one free Portalocity trip, provided he booked his arrangements within the week.

He'd get Hannibal to use it for him. Provided the tie-dye underwear he was wearing under his not-so-usual getup didn't get him kicked out of the house.

It had been A Trip, okay?

//So,// he said, stepping through the front door and immediately looking for somewhere to deposit the frog, //you first.//

[OOC: I'm baaaaaaaack. Some of Jono's assorted nonsense might be inspired by actual events. Mostly the sunburn. Mostly for Hannibal, but I'm around for other threads if there are visitors!]

Hannibal's House (That Jono Doesn't Remember Hannibal In), Saturday Morning

It was the general, growing sense of unease that woke Jonothon up this morning, as people around the island woke up to find that they couldn't remember who they were, or why they were in some strange bed. He was comfortable enough otherwise, but as the morning pressed on, that feeling got stronger, until there was a fever pitch of concern and confusion hammering at the insides of his skull.

Rolling over and trying to bury his head under a pillow didn't actually help, either. It just brought to attention the fact that there was somebody beside him, which was a distracting revelation for all of two seconds, until he opened his eyes and--


Apologies to anybody within Jono's immediate telepathic range. It was his turn to project distress, now, not even realizing that he was doing just that. He'd worry about who he was in bed with, possibly never, considering the fact that he was on fire, and all.

[OOC: For that guy!]

Jono's Office Hours, Wednesday

Jono had roughly umpteen things that still needed to be done in preparation for the wedding, but that didn't mean he was going to ignore his other responsibilities while he was at it. He hadn't held proper office hours yet this semester, after all, and while his current class required less in the way of paperwork and handouts and whatnot, sometimes it helped in the thinking process to put himself somewhere that at least felt a little bit on the official side.

Which was why he was in his office at the school today, squinting at a computer screen, acknowledging that he more or less knew how to use the bloody thing in order to look up music on YouTube. He could just as easily go do this at the Groovy Tunes, he knew, but so far the computer in his office was far less, er, moody than the stereo at the music shop.

So Office #7 today had some music going on at a volume that was somewhat more reasonable than usual. Various kinds of somewhat modern music, in fact. Not just Pearl Jam.

... Also occasionally Pearl Jam.

[OOC: Open! Hi!]
Scars too

From Loon Drive to Hannibal's Place (Where Jono Also Lives), Sunday Evening

Jono's head was itching. Not in that 'there is something unpleasant in my hair' sort of itch, no. More like the 'telepathic senses picking up on somebody close to him who was very upset' sort of itchy. The kind of itchy that wouldn't quite resolve itself if he paid more attention to it, but would at least make more sense if he did. And what he found when he took a moment to focus on that... was a very familiar mind, in a very unfamiliar state of distress.

He would have chewed on his lip as he set out to find Alluka, if he was able. Something had to be very the matter for her to be that worked up, and maybe he wasn't allowed in the dorms, but he'd cross that bridge when he got there. The girl called him Papa, the least he could do would be to look out for her when she was upset, after all.

[OOC: For that girl!]