#2024 writing meme

[disregardcanon]

end of the year writing meme: tagging anyone who wants to do this!

or: 2024 in fanfiction 

Total Stories Written: 19

Total Words Written: 103,787 this was the first year since 2019 that i cracked 100k!!!!! Average Words Per Story: the mean is about 5,000, but most of them clocked in somewhere 7-11k. I could do the median or the range or something but I Do Not Care Enough Shortest Story:  a rubber band, extended at 684 words Longest: daddy doesn’t love me and mommy is a god at 12,149

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted? I wrote more than I predicted. I was expecting to be about 75k again, so this was a pleasant surprise :)

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write most? The only pairing I technically wrote more than once was steph/grace from hatchetfield. The genre i wrote most was “what if i made people sad about interpersonal problems?” and then the fandom i wrote most was still hatchetfield, but agatha all along came in swinging late in the year

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? None of the fandoms i participated in this year were a surprise, but i did get into making video edits a bit! That was a surprise. My favorite was Good Luck Babe, 1973 for amc iwtv Did you take any writing risks this year?

I started my first multichapter, post as i go kind of wip in years. I almost never finish those, so the fact that i’ve been making steady progress and feel like i’ll finish it is BIG. wicked fic

The other biggest writing risk I took was writing No-Fault High School Divorce. I’m working on an agatha all along fic series that’s about 1. The fandom’s least favorite character 2. The thorniest, most uncomfortable way to examine his backstory 3… a breakup where no one’s all the way at fault 4. Exploring different ways to play with having a character who’s a ghost and a character that reads minds. Both of these are things that I haven’t worked with much before, so trying to make it dynamic and understandable is a difficult line. It was worth it, though. I’m very proud of it.  

Do you have any fanfic or general writing goals for the new year?

I want to finish up the wicked fic, continue my atla imperialism series, and keep having fun with it.

From the past year of writing, what was your…Best story of this year: 

I can’t pick a favorite child this year, but I will highlight A Pile of Probablys. It doesn’t get any other love on the list this year, so… if you want some dragon prince content, this one’s for you. It’s about Terry and Claudia and it was written before the latest season came out. I’m on the fence about what the show did with them this season, but I still love my own dynamic and backstory. 

Most popular story of this year: Family is Forever, an agatha all along fic where wanda finds billy immediately after she collapses the hex

Personal favorite: Again, can’t pick a favorite child, but I’ll highlight Becky Barnes Tries Again. It’s my becky barnes character study where she gets nice things. 

Most under-appreciated: The Wiskayok Honey Queen! It’s underappreciated because it’s so niche, but I absolutely love it. Jackieshauna tearing each other apart to become the hatchetfield honey queen? It was too perfect a crossover for me NOT to write

Most fun to write: Normal is a Myth- this was the second fic in my “hatchetfield half-bloods” series. While the first one, a story focusing on a teenage ted spankoffski joining kronos’s army, was really fun to write too… this one that focuses on paul and emma was an absolute delight. I got to do some fun thinking about what adulthood could look like in the percy jackson universe and come up with some creative and funny scenes. 

Story with the single sexiest moment: reasons to live! This is the steph/grace fic set in the universe where steph shot pete but he didn’t die quickly enough to make their deal. Grace still had to sleep with max to save them, and fall in love in the aftermath and start killing people together

Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story: precious few at ease with moral ambiguities is my ongoing wicked fic, and HOOOOOO BOOOOYYYY is it a dark little doozy. Love Potions. The dissemination of fascist propaganda. Viewing relationships as tools and toys. Cruelty and manipulation. Basically, this is exactly what was going to happen when I read tbosas for the first time just about a month before the new wicked movie came out. Most challenging to write: That’s How She Became the Nanny. It was just under 5k, but everytime I come back to my atla imperialism au it gets harder. It’s mainly because it’s dear to my heart and I want to do so well by it, but it’s just such a sticky moral quagmire and it requires so much character work and worldbuilding that it’s exhausting. 

Most telling fic: empty chairs at empty tables. There’s nothing on earth i love more than painful parallels, musical theater allusions, and writing a quick fic in one setting that explores all of those things. They gave jinx a les mis flag! Of course i was going to write something awful about her dads’ failed revolution set around it. 

Biggest disappointment: I didn’t have any disappointments this year. Just being able to pull words from my brain has felt like a miracle Favorite character to write: agatha harkness. She is SO much fun

Favorite opening lines:

Stephanie Lauter never had a lot of drive. Her father called her lazy, her teachers called her unmotivated, and her friends always said that she “goes with the flow”, which is a nicer way of saying the same thing.

Reasons to Live

Margaery Tyrell has seen a lot of houses in her life. She bed-hopped from woman to woman in college, traveled the world for a few years after graduation, and then, of course, she became a realtor at her family’s firm. She can safely say that she’s an expert in houses. 

As an expert in houses, Margaery knows this is the tackiest one that she’s ever been in. 

Chirp on about Good Bones

It’s a beautiful day in Queens. The sun is shining. The car horns are honking. While sitting on the subway, Paul Matthews sees a muscular guy with a single eye in the middle of his forehead. 

Yep! It’s a perfectly normal day in Queens. At least it is for Paul.

Normal is a Myth Favorite closing lines:

Agatha puts a coy hand to to her face and flips her ghostly hair. “I like the bad boys.” This gets him laughing as they drive home. All of his worries aren’t put to bed, but some of them are. Most importantly, Tommy is still alive. Billy might have stolen a boy's life and parents, might have killed three people, might have hurt his boyfriend and almost everyone who's ever cared about him, but he hasn't ruined everything.

(Yet.) 

Death’s Unwanted Stepson

Stephanie Lauter hands this burden to her father. He shoulders it, the way that he will for years to come. Maybe for the rest of time. And as guilty as she feels about it… it doesn’t stop her from passing the consequences on. You know what they say: better him than me. 

Turning to a Parent

Other favorite lines:

“I’m Ted.” 

“Ted?” Jenny asks, frowning, “no, that’s too formal. I’m gonna call you Teddy.” She says this with a look so warm and flirtatious he understands, suddenly, why the ancient Greeks went to war for Helen. 

“Cool beans,” he responds, like a fucking moron.

daddy doesn’t love me and mommy is a god

“Stephanie has a date to the dance, and that date is a girl .” 

“O… kay?” 

 “You said, and I quote “she’s not gay, she’s six” when she got gay-married on the playground,” her mom says.

The Ex Girlfriends and Boyfriends of Stephanie Lauter

Pete is sick of it. He knows Ruth. She’s going to fuck this up and she’s going to embarrass herself in front of everyone there and then she’s going to cry about it. Everyone else is going to be mean to her for valid reasons and he’s going to have to do the awkward, insincere “oh no, it’s okay! You did great!” or else he’s a jerk. So no, he’s not shelling out twenty dollars to see Ruth’s social suicide. Pete told her and Richie that he’s not coming, and he’s sticking to that. 

He. Is. Not. Coming. He made it clear weeks ago that he thinks this is a bad idea that's just going to get Ruth hurt and he's not supporting it. 

The Opposite of FOMO

Video Summary: Jennifer Kale weaves a captivating story of her walk down the Witches’ Road, and what it taught her about witchcraft, the value of her expertise, and sisterhood.

Categories: The Witches’ Road, Potions, Binding, Covens, Testimonies

Image Description: Jennifer Kale seated in front of a vanity. Her head is shaved, her makeup is stylish, and she is wearing a beautiful pink blouse underneath a white doctor’s coat. A stethoscope is draped around her neck

Up the Witches’ Road

“Huh,” Darcy says, “I wonder what Agatha Harkness’s murder basement looks like.” 

Jimmy can’t help but chuckle. “I guess we’ll find out?”

Woo and Lewis: Westview Part 2

[psalmieee]

Writers when it's time to write the story no one forced them to come up with in the first place 🙄

[mischievous-thunder]

[whywasmartha]

[bothoutsiders]

[atalienart]

✧*:･ﾟArt summary 2024

2014-2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021

[mattmurdockismyspiritanimal]

[comewhatmayy]

KINKTOBER DAY 6- SADISM/MASOCHISM- TATE LANGDON)

Tate's cold breath whispers against the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he speaks in a low, husky tone.

“You’re so beautiful when you're alone, lost in thought." His fingers brush against your skin, tracing the curve of your neck, and you can feel the weight of his gaze upon you.

"You know, I've been waiting for this moment, when you're all mine, trapped in this room with me." His voice drips with an unsettling intensity, and you can sense the darkness lurking beneath his words.

You shift your gaze over to Tate. “How so?”

Tate's fingers slide down your arm, his touch like ice, sending a thrill of unease through your veins. "Because, baby, I can see the fear in your eyes, and it's intoxicating. You're so fragile, so delicate, and I can feel the darkness inside me stirring, wanting to claim you, to make you mine."

His voice drops to a whisper, his breath caressing your ear. "I can sense the thrill of submission in you, the desire to be controlled, to be taken to the edge and pushed over. And I'm the one who can give it to you, my girl."

His fingers wrap around your wrist, his grip like a vice, holding you in place.

You moan against his touch. “What are you going to do to me, Tate?”

Tate's grip on your wrist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you closer, his eyes burning with an intense, almost feral desire. "I'm going to show you the true meaning of fear. I'm going to push you to the limits of your sanity, to make you scream and beg for mercy. And then, I'm going to make you love every moment of it."

His lips brush against your ear, his voice a low, menacing whisper.

"You see, I've been dead for a long time, and I've learned that the only way to truly feel alive is to experience the rush of adrenaline that comes with pain and fear. And I'm going to make you feel it too, baby."

His eyes seem to bore into your soul, and you can sense the darkness within him, waiting to be unleashed.

Tate's lips crash against yours, his kiss fierce and possessive, his tongue probing deep into your mouth as he devours you.

His grip on your wrist tightens, and he pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours as he deepens the kiss. "You want this, don't you?"

He growls, his voice muffled against your lips. "You want to feel the pain, to submit to me, to be mine. And I'm going to give it to you, every inch of it."

His kiss becomes more aggressive, his teeth nipping at your lips, his tongue thrusting deeper into your mouth as he claims you as his own.

“Tate,” you moan into his mouth. “do what you want to me.”

Tate's eyes shine with a feral gleam as he hears your words. "Oh, my sweet girl, that's exactly what I was hoping you'd say."

He pulls you flush against him, his hands roaming your body possessively. "I'm going to do everything I've been aching to do to you. I'm going to make you feel things you've never felt before."

His lips crash against yours in a bruising kiss, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. "Get ready, baby,”

Tate's hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips tightly as he presses you back against the wall. "You're mine, you understand? All mine. And I'm going to make sure you never forget that."

“I’m,” you moan. “yours.”

Tate's face twists into a snarl, his eyes flashing with a fierce, almost animalistic desire. "Good girl," he growls, his voice low and menacing.

"Now, let's see just how much of yourself you're willing to give me." His hands slide up your legs, his fingers probing the hem of your skirt as he pulls it up, exposing your thighs to his gaze.

"Show me your scars, baby. Show me the places where you're vulnerable."

Tate's fingers brush against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he explores the sensitive areas of your body. His touch is like fire, burning away your inhibitions and leaving you feeling exposed and raw.

"I want to see all of you, my girl. Every inch of you. Every secret, every fear, every desire."

His eyes burn with an intense, almost savage hunger, as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "And I'm going to make sure you never hide from me again."

“Never,” you pant.

Tate's eyes blaze with raw hunger at your words, his grip on your hips tightening possessively.

"That's my girl," he growls, his voice dripping with dark anticipation. Without warning, he lifts you up, pinning you against the wall as his lips crash against yours in a bruising, possessive kiss.

His hands roam your body, rough and unyielding, as he tears at your clothes, exposing your skin to his hungry gaze. "You have no idea what you're asking for, baby," he snarls, his teeth nipping at your neck.

His hips grind against yours, the hard lines of his body pressing into you. "But I'm more than happy to show you."

In one swift motion, he sweeps you up into his arms, tossing you onto the bed.

His eyes blaze with a primal, almost feral intensity as he looms over you, a twisted grin spreading across his face.

He shifts his hand up your body and to your neck.

Tate's grip on your neck tightens, his fingers closing around your throat like a vice. It's a feeling you can't quite explain, but it's like he's unlocking a part of you that you never knew existed.

His eyes burn with a fierce, almost animalistic intensity as he holds you in place, his grip never wavering. You try to struggle, but it's no use. He's too strong, too powerful. You're trapped, and he knows it.

As the air is slowly squeezed from your lungs, your vision begins to blur. But at the same time, you feel a twisted sense of excitement building inside you. It's a feeling of surrender, of giving in to your darkest desires.

Tate's grip on your neck tightens further, and you feel a wave of darkness wash over you. You're on the edge, teetering between consciousness and oblivion. And yet, somehow, you feel alive. You feel more alive than you've ever felt before.

"Don't struggle, baby," Tate growls, his voice low and menacing. "Just let go. Let me take control."

His free hand snakes around your throat once more, his grip constricting as he leans in close, his hot breath caressing your skin.

“You belong to me now. Every inch of you. And I'm going to use you however I please." He punctuates his words with another brutal slap, his eyes alight with a primal, sadistic hunger.

“So scream for me, baby. Let me hear how much you love it."

Tate's hand comes down hard against your breasts, the impact sending a shockwave of pain through your body.

“Does that hurt baby?” he asks, clearly rhetorical. “Good. I want you to feel everything.”

With a twisted grin, he raises his hand, and you feel a moment of dread before his palm comes crashing down against your skin, the impact sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through your body.

“Oh, yeah," he growls, his voice low and husky with desire. “You like that, don't you, baby? You like it when I take control, when I make you mine."

He continues to slap you, each blow landing with precision and force, sending you crashing into the wall with each impact. Your moans grow louder, more desperate, as you surrender to the pleasure-pain, your body writhing in submission.

Tate's fingers dig deeper into your hips, holding you in place as he unleashes his full fury upon you, each blow landing with a sickening thud that sends shivers down your spine. You're lost in the pleasure-pain, your mind spinning out of control as you beg for more.

“Please,”

Tate's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you back against him, his hot breath caressing your neck.

Tate's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you back against him, his hot breath caressing your neck.

"Please what, baby?" he growls, his voice dripping with dark desire. "Please stop? Or please give you more?"

His tongue traces the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Because I can't stop. Not when I have you right where I want you."

His hand slams against your backside again, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing through the room. Your cries of pain only seem to fuel his twisted hunger, and he leans in close, nipping at your neck.

“That's it, baby. Scream for me. Let me hear how much you love this." His other hand snakes around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "You're mine, do you understand? Every part of you belongs to me now."

“Fuck, Tate,” you scream.

He slams his hand against your backside once more, the impact sending a shockwave of pain through your body. Your cries of pleasure are music to his ears, and he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're so beautiful like this, baby. So broken, so helpless. And I'm the one who's breaking you."

His fingers dig deep into your hips, holding you in place as he presses his body against yours, his erection throbbing against your backside. "I'm going to fill you up, baby. I'm going to make you mine. And once I do, there's no going back."

He pauses, his chest heaving with desire, as he looks down at you with a twisted, almost cruel smile. "Are you ready for this, baby? Are you ready to be mine?"

“Please,” you moan.

Tate's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. With a feral growl, he yanks you back against his body, your ass grinding against his straining erection.

"That's my good girl," he purrs, his lips brushing against your neck. His teeth scrape against your skin, not quite hard enough to break it, but the promise of pain is there. "Beg me for it, baby. Beg me to fill you up."

One hand snakes around your throat, his thumb pressing against your pulse point. "Tell me how much you want me. Tell me you need this, need me, more than anything." He gives a sharp squeeze, just enough to have you gasping for air. "Because I'm going to take you, my girl. I'm going to take every inch of you and make you mine."

“Fuck me,”

With a primal cry, he flips you over onto your stomach, his hands pinning you down as he yanks your hips up into the air. "You want it, my girl? You want me to take you? Then take this."

His cock slams into you, the impact sending a shockwave of pleasure-pain through your body. You feel him filling you up, stretching you to the limit, and you know that you're his, completely and utterly his.

Tate's hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, your thighs, your ass, as he pounds into you with a savage intensity. You're lost in the moment, completely at his mercy, and you know that you'll do anything to keep him inside you.

"Mine," Tate growls, his voice like a primal roar. "You're mine."

Tate's teeth sink into your neck, his jaws clamping down with a savage intensity. You feel the sharp pain, but it's quickly overtaken by a wave of overwhelming pleasure, a delirious high that clouds your senses.

"Nngh, yes!" you cry out, your body arching against him as he marks you as his own. His grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts growing more erratic and primal.

He licks at the wound, his tongue tracing the outline of his bite mark. "You're mine, baby," he growls, his voice dripping with possessive hunger. "Every inch of you. No one else can have you, do you understand?"

His hands roam your body, claiming you, caressing you, as he continues to pound into you with a relentless, punishing rhythm. You're lost in the sensations, drowning in a sea of ecstasy and submission, completely at his mercy.

"Say it," he demands, his teeth grazing your skin. "Say you're mine!"

“I’m- fuck,” you scream.

Tate's eyes blaze with a fierce, almost feral intensity as he hears your words. "What, baby?" he growls, his voice low and husky with desire.* "You're what? Mine?"

He bites down on your neck again, the pain and pleasure mixing together in a heady cocktail that leaves you gasping for air. His hips continue to pound into you, his cock driving deep into your depths with a savage, primal energy.

"Say it," he demands, his teeth still locked onto your skin. "Say it, and I'll let you come. I'll let you feel the pleasure you're begging for."

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging deep into your flesh as he holds you in place. You're trapped, completely at his mercy, and you know that you'll do anything to satisfy him.

“Fuck, I’m yours,” you cry.

Tate's eyes light up with a dark, feral hunger as the words leave your lips. "That's right, baby," he growls, his voice dripping with possessive desire. "You're mine, every last inch of you."

His grip on your hips tightens, pulling you back against him as he slams into you with a punishing rhythm. His teeth graze your neck, leaving a trail of stinging bites in their wake.

"No one else gets to have you, do you understand?" he snarls, his breath hot against your skin. "You're mine, and I'll kill anyone who tries to take you away from me."

The intensity of his thrusts increases, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room. His hands roam your body, claiming you, marking you as his own.

"Come for me, baby," he demands, his voice hoarse with need. "Let me hear how much you love being mine."

He slams into you one last time, his cock throbbing with release as he empties himself into you. His body goes stiff, his grip on your hips tightening as he holds you in place, claiming you as his own.

Tate's eyes blaze with a fierce, almost feral intensity as he feels you come. "Yes!" he growls, his voice low and husky with desire. "Yes, baby, yes."

He slams into you one last time, his cock throbbing with release as he empties himself into you. His body goes stiff, his grip on your hips tightening as he holds you in place, claiming you as his own

"Ahh," he moans, his head thrown back in ecstasy. "Ah, baby, you're so beautiful when you come for me."

He collapses forward, his chest heaving with exertion as he pins you to the bed. His lips brush against your skin, leaving a trail of soft kisses as he worships you. "You're mine," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "You'll always be mine."

His hands roam your body, stroking your skin, claiming you as his own. You're lost in the sensations, basking in the warmth of his love, his desire.

Tate's face lights up with a tender smile at your words. He pulls you into his arms, his touch gentle and reverent as he gazes down at you. "My girl," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "My beautiful, perfect girl."

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his fingers tracing the lines of your face. "I'll always protect you, you know that?" His eyes grow serious, a shadow of darkness passing through them. "No one will ever hurt you, not as long as I'm here."

Tate pulls you even closer, his heartbeat thundering in your ear. You feel so safe, so cherished, in his embrace. All the pain and fear of this haunted house fades away when you're with him. "You're the only one who truly sees me," he murmurs. "The only one who understands."

His lips find yours in a searing, passionate kiss, pouring all of his love and devotion into it. When he finally pulls away, his eyes are shining with adoration. "I'll always be yours, my girl. Always."

[msbrightsides]

H-O-T-T-O-G-O,

I-Am-Going-To-Die-Alone!

[javelinbk]

On 16th January 1980, Paul McCartney is arrested in Tokyo, Japan.

Not that John cares or anything.

A lesson in not caring

Merry Christmas @adriennefrombrooklyn ! Here is your @beatleskinkmeme Secret Santa gift for 2024 - I hope you enjoy!

[ghostedgrim]

Y'all this election got me fucked up.

Can everyone go into the comments and talk like we're characters in those 2012-2017 wattpad y/n x character fics. I need a bit of ridiculous humor.

[cursedbanalities]

My writing style as of late really seems to be the equivalent of a plain chicken breast. Right now it’s a boring cut of un-marinated, unseasoned meat; Editing, though, is where the magic happens, baby.

[selenekallanwriter]

It's me. I'm authors.

[auzlon]

Status update

In the last few days I've had no sleep. lets go over the key points - in order.

SIGNED AN NDA

Kicked out of bar

made out with a guy

Yelled on the street at 2am at a guy

got sent $200 for texting an older guy

managed have no sex.

Some how I feel both progressed and regressed. I was reminded of my nature that he so sot to remove with ultimatly no avail. I think I said it once 'you can take the girl out of the city, but you can't take the city of the girl'.

In a younger version I would text a random guy and do the thing. Have an orgasm (If i was lucky) then repeat. This time with a little maturity. AND FINALY fucken self value. I won't throw myself at just anyone because I'm horny. I've given it up too much for too little and only lost friends in the process. I don't know what I was trying to find validation or thrill.

But I don't want love, Either. I'll reserve my love for two individuals.

Him, the imaginary one he exist only the boundlessness of my mind and creation. He - this person, can more then he, she, they? this person is me. They inhibit all of me, my fictious perfection exist in them.

And --him, the soul mate. The only one person who I've met physically who is more me than I am myself. I love him, in a away that is, complicated. because its survived through time and lovers- its been my beacon in the time when the love of my life is not enough. And somehow its my beacon now. He's mine. even with her. He's mine, but not like he is to her. Our love, exist only in the thought, nothing we can touch or see. It belongs only to a space we've agreed never to talk about because he is with her. My family makes comments about him, he's hung in the air of each failed relationship.

I enter the new year with a new version of me, she smokes cigarettes, drinks sparkling water to suppresses the alcohol craving, bought a new wardrobe, takes her son to the library, and I got bangs.

self reflections and revelations.

25 years old - 2025

tell me about You ??? have you changed this year

[starlight-bread-blog]

Why YOU Should Ship Katara x Iroh and NOT Zutara/Kataang

I know, I know, just hear me out. We're all aware of how Katara aspires to be a maternal figure, given that she believes she is at fault for her mother's death. Sokka's line from "The Runaway":

Sokka: I'm gonna tell you something crazy. I never told anyone this before, but honestly, I'm not sure I can remember what my mother looked like. It really seems like my whole life, Katara has been the one looking out for me. She's always been the one that's there.

All good? Yay! But what does that have to do with Iroh? The narrative draws parallels between Zuko's relationship to Iroh and to Katara. Katara is Zuko's aunt.

In The Crossroads of Destiny, Zuko betrayed both Iroh and Katara. It's a painful betrayal and its weight is carried all the way to the ending of Book 3. When he reaches out to redeem his honor, he patiently waits inside/outside their respective tents. This is not only a parallel, but it proves that Zuko thinks of Katara similarly to Iroh. In other words, he thinks of her as his aunt.

Now that the parallels are in place, A:TLA, as usual, does something brilliant. It brings back Zuko's faliure from season 2. In The Chase, Zuko failed to shield Iroh – his uncle – from Azula's lightning. In Sozin's Comet, Zuko finally managed to shield Katara – his aunt – from Azula's lightning. As Zuko's last act of redemption, he finally fixes his mistake.

Through beautiful symbolism, the show gives us irrefutable evidence that Katara is Zuko's aunt. Therefore, she must be shipped with Iroh. Shipping her with anyone else is frankly appalling and ignores what the story was clearly signaling you. Case closed.

[wahroh]