#it was so stupid I couldn't resist

[the-crooked-library]

"Louis and Armand were still in love in Dubai!!" "Louis and Armand never loved each other!!" - no. it's worse. they were on the precipice of something good, but Armand couldn't recognize that, so he ruined everything they had, right when Louis had actually come to love him. the love was there for a fleeting moment and it was ruined irreversibly, never to return, even after decades they'd spent together out of desperation and spite. it's worse and that's the point

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 12 - it was just for fools

"We were searching for reasons to play by the rules, but we quickly found it was just for fools." -Mary On A Cross by Ghost

Masterlist Part 11

Wonder Woman, with her extensive diplomatic training, was the perfect speaker to bring before the United Nations council. 

There was something regal about Diana, something that demanded attention from all genders and ages, her accent smooth and light with eyes hardened with barely concealed anger at what brought her to their door. 

The Anti-Ecto Acts. 

Diana understood war. There was very little she hadn’t experienced where it concerned the subject, from betrayal to a very personal loss, but now she had another chance to draw from her past. 

Prevention of a war. 

Only fools would believe a war against the Infinite Realms, the land of the End and death incarnate, that which holds every afterlife for every belief, was winnable. 

Every death on humanity’s side, was another solider for the King of the End. 

That was yet another point. 

The Once and Future Star King, Vanquisher of the Dark, Protector of the Light, Great One…. Was a Protector spirit. The spirit of a child who died wanting to be saved. 

Diana sighed, awaiting her fellow heroes in the meeting hall, Black Canary, Superman and Batman (with his ever tiny Robin) were already present. Red Robin was sat with a tablet, reading through a collection of data instead of conversing. 

It was almost seven on the dot, the meeting filled with nearly all members of the League, when Constantine portals in with a flask in one hand and a book in the other. 

“Not a word.” He grumbles around an unlit cigarette held between his lips, unceremoniously dropping into an unoccupied seat. 

Despite the surprise of John Constantine being on time for something, much less a Justice League meeting, Diana had other concerns to deal with. 

Namely, the repeal of the Anti-Ecto Acts. 

An unexpected summoning was a shard of ice in her spine, twisting like a knife of betrayal in the nerves, utter agony. Jazz had little warning, little time to brace herself before she was hooked behind her navel and yanked. 

Thank the Ancients she wasn’t in the shower, because whoever had the audacity to summon the Ghost King was not going to receive an eyeful for their trouble. 

Jazz allowed her armor to materialize, a slick sensation of water down her back soothed the lingering pain of the brutal summons, but her back plate soon settled firmly in place and irritated the nerves more so. 

Just as her helmet locked into place, sealing her fully into her armor, green smoke announced her arrival with a dramatic flair she couldn’t find humor in. 

Rested on one knee, head bowed, the Regent was quite an intimidating sight for the uninitiated. 

Her helmet, full coverage with a crown of green shards embedded into its pulsing ebony metal, only allowed the green tint of her eyes to shine through. Once her head lifted, the several shivers her gaze got proved how effective it was at unnerving others. 

With a breath, the Regent stood. 

“You have tried to summon the King of the End, why?” 

John Constantine was many things- a liar, a cheater, a non-believer- but he was certainly not a fool. He’d been against summoning the Ghost King, knowing full well to whom they would be dragging unwilling instead. Somehow the title of Regent failed to comprehend to most present, which was not Constantine’s fault in the slightest. 

(Hey, at least he was mostly sober summoning, right?) 

(Had to give credit where it’s due.) 

Bats was unamused with Constantine’s first warning of ‘Do not fuck with’ when Phantom had first shown himself, but this was ridiculous really. A message was always better than trying to summon the King, who would want to be interrupted right? 

Yet again, the Magician was overruled. 

(At least he didn’t have to sell his soul this time.) 

(The Phantom already gifted the glued together remnants to his Regent.) 

(Morbid as it was, at least John knew it was in better hands than some half wit demon he’d scammed.) 

No one answered before the Regent spoke with some amusement lacing her words, “I should have known a summon from you, Constantine, would be painful.” 

(Was it a good or bad sign that the Regent didn’t immediately call him ‘Sad Trenchcoat man’?) 

Diana politely interjected, “Greetings, My Lady. We apologize for the unfortunate experience and will endeavor to do better in future meetings.” 

(Good old Diana.)

“Greetings.” The Regent replied, helmeted head slightly tilted as she studied the others present before her, having been ignored for the time being. 

Wonder Woman pressed a fist over her heart with a slight bow of her head as she spoke again, “May I introduce the Justice League and it’s founders; Batman, Superman, and myself, Wonder Woman. You are familiar with Constantine, who is a member of Justice Dark.” 

“I am the Regent of the Realms, Lady of the Acropolis, you may refer to me as either.” Jazz intoned, serious as was only right for her titles. “I’ll ask once more… Why.” 

Constantine, despite the familiarity he held with Phantom, shivered in the presence of the Regent. The owner of his soul could command he turn on his allies, zap away his free will with only a few words. Sure, he had some doubts that the Regent would, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t. The AEA proved that the Infinite Realms had every right to declare war on the Living and its citizens would be drafted to fight in the Legion, regardless of mortality status. 

John was many things- a liar, a cheater, a non-believer- but he was not a soldier or a fool.

He would be called to arms, as a magic user and battle-blooded soldier. There would be no choice, no deal he could make that would see his fate change. 

It was fortunate that the Regent didn’t want a war, but there was only so much she could do to hold back the growing tide of angry entities that wanted vengeance on parents, siblings, and children taken from them. 

(Ancients above and below, he needed a drink.)

It was times like this that brought the Regent back to her long days of training in the Acropolis. The echo of steel against steel, dodging ecto-blasts, deflecting weapons with her bracelets, Pandora’s steady words…

Pandora was many things- Leader of the Acropolis, Guardian of Hope, teacher, advisor, so on and so forth.

Pandora might be a ghost, an Amazon tasked with guarding her box, a Warrior of the ages past, but she was ultimately the Ancient of Peace. 

The Peace she never knew in life, war-hardened as she was. Raised with one hand clutching a weapon and the other an open palm, Pandora was a diplomat at heart. War had not been kind to her, but still, she taught her pupil (the Regent) the importance of listening. 

Many issues could be solved when one took the time to shut their mouth. 

Draw weapon, draw blood.

Aim at nothing you’re not willing to destroy.

If your opponent believes they have the upper hand, break it.

(These are just a few rules of war.) 

(She knew them all by heart.)

(Each one ingrained on her body, scars a testament to a faith in her training and herself.) 

The only rule Pandora had given her where to concerned Peace was this: 

Reach for it, but know that hearts aren’t so easily swayed as minds. 

It was why Jasmine never bothered trying to negotiate with the GIW. Their hearts were black and there was no changing their minds. 

Here she was, summoned by the Justice League with their own diplomatic trained Amazon at the ready. Pandora would be proud of her sister-in-arms, because despite the Regent’s unknown threat potential Wonder Woman had not reached for the sword at her side. Instead, she’d done a traditional Amazon greeting, from one warrior to another, a sign of respect that Jasmine had not expected to ever receive outside the Acropolis. 

“We had expected to summon the King, but were unaware of a Regent, my lady.” Wonder Woman spoke, but Constantine interrupted whatever she would have said next. 

“We wanted to discuss the possibility of war against the living, Regent.” 

Jasmine snorted, the voice-modulating function of her helmet made it sound funny to her ears, “Blunt as always, Constantine. You’re worried I would order you against your allies?” 

The Sad Trenchcoat Man blinked once, twice, “Bloody Hell, you don’t waste time, do ya?” 

“You possess the power to command Constantine?” 

That question had come from Lady Gotham’s first Knight, steady with no discernible emotion in voice. His hands were resting on his utility belt, which was a bad sign of his current judgment of her character. 

“For the sake of honesty, yes, Dark Knight, as the keeper of his Soul Remnants, I could command the Magician to do my bidding.” The Regent continued, “However, it was a gift and Phantom is fond enough of the Sad one that I wouldn’t use it unless I had no other choice.” 

“What would constitute ‘no other choice’?” 

Huh, Jasmine was starting to understand why Phantom chose Batman to give the Ghost Files too. She could feel the determination and protectiveness radiating off his soul, a familiar (though less powerful) sensation she only got from her little brother. 

“War.” The Regent retorted, “I’m beginning to understand why Phantom would choose you, Knight.” 

Constantine perked up a bit, “Didn’t you avenge him?” 

“Yes.” 

Wonder Woman came forward again, “My Lady, we wish to discuss the conditions of Peace between the Living and the Infinite Realms.” 

Jasmine smiled a bit sadly, though no one could see it, “I would be honored to.” 

If anyone asked, Red Hood did not swoon when he witnessed his future wife girlfriend kick a man straight in the balls so hard he saw God. 

Jazz was a beacon during a Gotham night, beautiful red hair seeming to catch fire with every light that danced across it, shoulders back and head held high his girl resumed her steady pace towards her apartment. This was a typical night for them, minus the would-be mugger and Jazz being unaware of the Red Hood following from above to make sure she got home safely. 

(Jason hadn’t been able to convince her to carry a gun.)

(Nonetheless, he knew his girl could take care of herself, but that didn’t stop the worry.) 

Hood wasn’t convinced about the safety of the area bordering his Alley, The Ridge,  with two relatively unknown metas acting as it’s Vigilantes and seeming to drive down the crime rate in the neighborhood to near extinction faster than he’d seized control of his own territory. It was odd that the metas weren’t crossing into the Alley, seeming to go around it and more into Gotham proper when they decided to roam, as if they respected the Red Hood claim more than the other bats. 

(Wasn’t that just a hoot.) 

(Two non-bats had more respect for him than his own family.) 

The Ridge was the lesser known little brother to Crime Alley, with its residents being mostly three-jobs and a drug problem demographic, but with Phantom and Regent the area had begun to show a bit more life. Sure, most of the builds were on the wrong side of dilapidated, hanging on with duct tape and a wad of gum, but when it was just bright out enough- no matter the time of day- Phantom’s ice can be seen glinting from miles around as it curved itself around foundations and floors to stabilize the structures. It hadn’t melted in the slightest the two months since it’s been formed. Hood had even tried to get a sample for testing, but the ice would not budge. Hell, he’d even taken a cheap shot at it- nothing. Well, except for the fact that you could now see a bullet encased within the ice. 

Phantom was a chill guy, apparently. 

(Hood internally groaned at the unintentional pun.) 

(Quick mental note made to shoot Dick in… well, the dick.) 

Red Hood had been gritting his teeth against the warm sensations of protect-anxiety-nervous for days, sensing danger every time he closed his eyes. Something had invaded Gotham and was messing with the Pit. 

No, not the Pit. The Pit was gone, no longer bubbling in his gut or green edging his vision, it was gone and replaced with something else. 

Something that gave him trouble, but was definitely a step up from Pit Madness. 

(And what a time for it to vanish, with Jason dating Jazz no more bloody nightmares when she was in his arms.)

He’d followed that ball of anxiety in his chest across Gotham, unconsciously avoiding Bruce’s usual patrol route and he climbed up to one of the gargoyles that kept vigil over the clock tower. Barbie hadn’t opened the comms to ask him what the hell are you doing here, but he wasn’t going to waste what little time he had with Phantom before he had to return to the Alley. 

The kid wasn’t older than Tim, but was ethereal in his form that felt cold to Hood. There wasn’t any sign that Phantom had been hurt by the Drs. Fenton, but Hood was all too aware of how looks could be deceiving. 

(The fuckers had vivisected him.) 

With every word passed between them, had Hood confirming the Ghost Files information to be accurate as far as Phantom was concerned. He was a teenager, a ghost in Gotham who was under the protection of the Regent and Ghost King. 

(Though incredibly corrupted, Barbara had been able to find a few frames of clarity.) 

(Lo and behold, the death of those bastards.) 

(He knew he recognized the armored figure, but couldn’t figure it out.) 

(It was right there on the tip of his tongue.) 

That same ball of anxiety loosened its hold with Phantom, a sense of protect-worry overwhelmed whatever else was in his chest. 

Phantom was a kid, ghost or not, vigilante or not. 

(No more dead robins.) 

It took two days and twelve hours for Jason to finally connect the dots between Regent and why in Hell he felt he knew the armored knight. 

Jazz was in her kitchen, hair braided and swinging back and forth against her back as she hummed and swayed in time with the soft music playing. His girl looked good in his Gotham Knights t-shirt, shorts revealing her toned thighs and legs, neckline of her borrowed shirt riding low enough to reveal several hickies he’d left on her earlier on the couch. Pride warmed his chest as he watched his darling Jazz, love for her settled deep into his bones. He knew she was the one for him, no going back, even if she didn’t know everything about him-Red Hood, his death, etc.

Jazz was made of steel and iron, forged with love and cracked with betrayal. Who had betrayed her in the past was obvious, her parents, their death must’ve been a mixed bag. Not to mention making the decision to allow their souls to be claimed by the Regent of the Infinite Realms. 

He had no doubt she would be unafraid of his nighttime persona, but he didn’t think he could handle her judgment of his past sins. He loved her too much and wanted to be good. 

The music stopped, dragging Jason out of his thoughts to find Jazz watching him with concern plain on her face. 

“Jace?” She lightly called for him, helpless to her he rose and gently wrapped her in his arms, her head tucked comfortably under his chin. 

“I’m ok, Jazz, just have a lot on my mind.” 

His girl hummed lightly, the sound vibrating slightly through Jason’s chest where her head rested. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“They’re not worth that much.” 

Jazz pinched his side in retaliation for his lightly self-demeaning comment, but ultimately let it go. Another reason he loved her, she didn’t tolerate his bullshit. She’d been horrified to hear his comments about his self-worth, as much as he was joking, and had firmly threatened to punt his ass into the sun if he didn’t start getting a better self-image. 

To his credit, he listened and began seeing Harley for counseling, which he knew he’d needed when he’d finally gotten a working braincell again after his dip in the line green Kool-aid. He’d put it off long enough, believing that the Pit wouldn’t let him remain calm enough to discuss his abandonment issues and mental health. 

The Pit wasn’t churning in his gut anymore so any anger he felt was all Jason’s, and Jason’s alone. It was oddly satisfying to know that he was once again responsible for how he handled his anger. 

Jazz never really demanded anything, only insisting on some boundaries at the start of their relationship when it was difficult to keep his hands to himself while she was in his sight. His darling was the same this why she set those boundaries so they could get to know each other without it just devolving into sex. 

Sure, they have done some heavy petting and Jason definitely liked leaving his mark on her, but they hadn’t felt compelled to go further. Now that they had been together a little over a month the heat between them settled into a slow summer in his blood, no more threat of them acting like a pair of degenerate dumbasses with lesser brain function. 

Not that Jason would ever be against having sex with Jazz, he loved her and wanted to know her in every sense, but he had to confess several things before he could allow himself to be put off guard with his pants down. The big Y-incision scar on his chest was horrific and Jason didn’t want to scare his girl away before he had a chance to come clean. He wanted, no, needed Jazz to accept every part of him- life, death, Jason and Red Hood. He was ready for her to know the truth. 

What he wasn’t ready for, like last time, was the bomb.

A/N: Yes, beta read by @meditating-cat! Great beta reader, really appreciate the quick response and notes. Thanks!

We're gonna have a bit of a time jump between the summoning and the cliffhanger, which means that Jazz being summoned happens after. I wrote it this way for a reason... I think. Don't quote me on that.

Anyways, special red tint this time, because I just watched Death in the Family for the first time before writing this part and...I didn't like it. No, I'm not sure why I don't either. Jason is my favorite character for a reason.

Now, if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go read Wayne family adventures to make myself feel better.

Thanks for reading!

PS: 3k words???

[kairokust]

Strange crossovers time let's gooo-

[styona]

Copia introducing the Ghouls (Kevin style), probably:

Have you met... His name is Mountain. First he bangs the drums, then...😏... he bangs the drums, it's his fucking job, so...

[insert-the-4thwall-entity]

*Discovers @2talltales's existence*

Huh, cool. What a neat looking g/t-ish undertale au.

*Sees that one commissioned animation of Pipe and Cherry*

*Gets reminded of @raisa-drawz's old ass Amino acc and that one suspiciously similar animation of hers*

HEY WAIT A SECOND -

[alexgalaxyboo]

A British a Scottish and an Austrian man walk into a Great Gatsby themed New Year's Eve party.

Aka, Ghost, Soap and König in the latest chapter of Gasoline In Your Heart, by the wonderful @whispermask.

[nonovyabuisness]

Currently playing a Pokémon DND campaign with finger puppets.

You have cool finger puppets like…

Then you have these:

AND THE MOST HILARIOUS ONE OF ALL !

[g0g0mi]

Based on this cameo from Stewart Clarke lmdklghdl

[nondescriptrock]

Since you were interested in him, here is art that I made for Connie's birthday ft. Max (his boyfriend)

(I'm looking at you specifically @konnorhasapen)

[subconsciousmysteries]

idk what to do about the 4s man. They're either really whiny manipulators and groomers (4 -> 2) or they are bona fide psychopaths (4 -> 1 false security) or they are an ungodly combination of both.

In fiction I've seen good examples of 4s but in reality I struggle not to blame them for all the world's problems. There are reasons.

[cuntylestat]

lestat is like the phantom of the opera because he’s inside louis’ mind

[honorhearted]

☆ (feel free to yeet this to the trash can but it's handdrawn)

Send me a ☆ for my muse's reaction to receiving a n.ude from your muse. / @ignisregina

Ben didn't often indulge in taverns, but given his recent alias, he actually had to feign interest. All around him, men were singing uproariously to the tune of -- or rather, in all their drunken glory, what sounded to be "When I Drain the Rosy Bowl" -- and he sighed, sipping at his own stein.

The men at his table started stamping their boots, some cackling amidst their (attempts at) singing and clapping their hands.

Before Ben could think to join in or flee, a young boy approached and handed him a folded up piece of parchment.

"For you, sir, from the pretty lady outside," he explained.

Bemused, Ben took the scroll and thanked the boy, then furtively glanced around before turning toward the wall for more privacy. But rather than it being something detailing his mission, as expected, it was...well...

"Wouldja look at the size o' those kettledrums, eh?" the man at his side asked, hooting before clapping Ben on the shoulder.

Far too stunned to jerk away, Ben clumsily started folding up the risqué drawing with warm, flushing cheeks, his hands shaking as he choked out, "I need to get some air."

"Aye, I'll bet!" the man ribbed, cackling as Ben stumbled up from his seat and went barreling for the door.

It couldn't be from Marianne...who had done this, and why? Was she even aware her b.ody was being used in such a way?

Practically taking the door off its hinges, Ben burst out into the street and exhaled, flustered and face burning as he turned and thudded into-

"Miss Nestmile," he spluttered, hating how his voice immediately kicked up an octave. "I thought...I-I thought...?" No, he most certainly did not think, and therein laid the problem. "Uhh..." Awkwardly, he stuffed the drawing underneath his coat. "W-what are you doing out here? This is no place for a lady..."

[serious-goose]

Take me or leave me from Rent but it's Stede telling Ed: "There are always going to be men in leather flirting with me..." *wink* :>

[agallimaufryofoddments]

Hypothetically Heckling Hyperbolically

Scene: If Huey had been a couple years younger and able to overhear Ronny and Elmer’s peri-drowning conversation...

⁂

(TL;DR)

Ronny: Magic mirror of the sea, who is the unlikeliest to smile besides me?

Huey: Me.

Elmer: True that. Psyche! It’s me.

Ronny: Shit.

Elmer: Cope. I do. Anyway, you’re going to make Maiza smile, and you’re gonna like it. You’ll like it till you drop dead from smiling!

⁂

Ronny: Mortal, I can grant you power beyond your wildest dreams. Perfect immortality. Freezing time. Extreme farsightedness. Command over the human race. Money go brr. Anything. Anything! Think big. Bigger. BIGGER. Think deep.

“After thinking for a little while...”

Elmer: s m i l e

Ronny: Elaborate.

Elmer: Laugh from the bottom of your heart, at the top of your lungs, like you’re having fun, like you’re overjoyed. Woo me like one of your French girls, bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked, lips parted just so in the latest fashion of joie de vivre. Tell me how you smile, you who are called a demon, and what makes you really and truly happy.

Ronny: What? No. Who are you.

Huey: Addict. Smile Junkie. Joyster.

Ronny: Listen. Before you are two buttons. The red one can get you permanently clean on the spot. The blue one gets you a one-time BSOD except the :( is a :). Choose wisely.

Elmer: :)

Ronny:

Ronny: This is the most difficult, most challenging, most unfeasible wish ever asked of me. You ask for what is impossible now, nigh impossible in the near future, and forever the unlikeliest of the unlikely to occur.

Huey: Oh, God, don’t encourage him.

Elmer: so what I’m hearing is that there’s a chance

Huey: Elmer, remember when I asked you “would a man who had no personal experience with happy smiles be able to give them to others?” and you went ‘point taken?’ Think carefully.

Elmer: So, what you want to do, Ron, what you do in this sort of situations is you attach yourself to someone else in similar smileless straits, straits sans smiles to quote your French girls, and you make them your pet—pet project, yeah, and you just, you know, do what it takes until they give you a laugh right from the gut. Ron, I betcha anything you’ll be able to smile after that, I mean, we’re talking my tried and true methods here. And partner, if we reunite, smile then, because you owe me—I love ya, Ron, but I’ll find you, and you’d better be glad that you met me again. ‘I can smile now! How d’ya like them apples?!’ …I’ll even take a reason like that, so please, show me your smile.

Ronny: Methods?

Huey: His only one.

Ronny: Has it ever worked?

Huey: No.

Elmer: It worked on you.

Huey: You know which party he meant.

Elmer: Look, I was going to suggest that Ronny stick close to Maiza, what with the dead brother and other dead so-and-sos being a real bummer and all, but... I guess I could wish for Ronny to tag alone with me until I smile for real instead...

Ronny: Wait. Hold on. Wait, demon, there’s still time to change my wish—I hadn’t pressed it y—Maiza! I wish for Maiza! My mind is made up.

Elmer: Ah, you’ve chosen the blue button after all. I figured you would. 

Huey: Dare I ask why you didn’t wish for my smile?

Elmer: Well... When weighing my options, I like to choose the one that has the highest chance of succeeding.

Huey: So that’s why you didn’t wish for a genuine smile to call your own, Mr. Empty Ending?!

Elmer: Words can’t hurt me :). Not if I’m empty, right? You should try it sometime oh wait you are. What was that about failed methods, again? Cheer up! You know you want to you. You’ll never best me in the sans émotions racket, so you may as well give up and smile. Come on. Give up. Embrace failure. It’s futile to grieve the dead, but to be so delusional as to try and Lazarus-Frankenstein your wife when not even Ronny can? Move on. Smile for me like your French mother.

Ronny: Mortal, heed me as I literally drown out your words via an ocean of hurt.

Elmer: Huey’s mom :) would know  :) a thing or two about that :). Hey, Huey, look to your right, I think I can see Monica from here! Smile and wave!

Huey: The line is breaking up—sounds—gargling?—can’t hear—

Elmer: Remember, demon, that with but a smile you summon meeeee!

[greencheekconure27]

Ok now I really want a remake/alternate version of "Иван Васильевич меняет профессию" (1973) but with princess Olga and set in 21st century Kyiv instead.

[shadowedvales]

if you’re getting hungry, i could do with some help. from joyce byers, @svnbleach

help. there's a double entendre whenever assistance was requested; be it the mundane participation of day-to-day happenings, or pressured service regarding creatures from the hellmouth residing below. today, the former took the reins, terror traded for normality: something simple like preparing a meal was still most intriguing to janessa. how she so deeply desired to grasp the concept, the skill, and store it carefully in her growing list of experiences. quality time spent with the woman who had become akin to a mother was always enjoyable, screeching horrors of her own mentality often quietened in the effortless presence; strain and stress of her past and uncertain future seemed far less daunting. a weapon forged decades in the making, accompanied by an underlying rage that could send worlds to their knees— it was not an easy task to create a safe environment for the child, [many tried, few succeeded] yet joyce thrived in the challenge. she'd scarcely forget it, this time here and now, despite lonesome ponderings in the middle of the night about how long this newfound family may persevere. fears that joyce and her boys would inevitably realise jane did not belong with them.

“i will love to help you.” a tone of innocence settled in her expression, homework abandoned on the table as she climbed to her feet, a gentle skip in the step, joining her in the kitchen. “but i do not know if i will be good. i burned my hand on the stove once, and jim worried so much he never let me try cook again.” she shrugged half-heartedly, until nerves suddenly crept into her body, familiar response of toying her hands together presenting itself. the last thing she wanted was to ruin joyce's food, thus ruin everyone's dinner— maybe she ought to sit it out. a deep breath was pulled in, and on the silent count of three, released. the voice in her head constantly screaming seek new things! do not allow setbacks to run your life! was louder than those concerns, leaving jane to square her shoulders back slightly, fidgeting fingers forced down at her side. “um... what can i do?”