#[[this is backdated two?? days.]]

[je-lurk]

Hello sfth fandom!

Once upon a time (in, like, July) I began writing the mystery of the midnight circus as an ACD story.

Unfortunately, shit happens (of my own making, dw) and I lost my motivation (truly my worst enemy).

Fortunately, I had tried something called outlining/plotting lmao, and six months later (three days ago) my motivation came back (obviously because I was procrastinating on a fic) and I finished part 1. While part 2 won’t be out in the near future, it still can be read as a one shot, so that’s cool.

Anyway, here it is

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63724558/chapters/163372930

[graviconscientia]

Books. You had left your hive for books. Dirk had asked, so kindly, and for such a gentle reason. How could you deny him his request when it was for his Valentine? When it was for--

That, however, is speculation. What is important is to acquire a few novels (and a bag of chicken nuggets, per another dear friend's request), and be home as quickly as possible. Less time out, less chance to see a familiar face-- "Well, look at who it is! If it isn't Nettles! Where have YOU been?" Ugh. You can hear your former colleagues' voices already. They'll have you back in your office in seconds if they see you. But that's speculation, too.

You've been in the capital city a few times since leaving Asidea, and you've made sure all your favourites were still in place. Favourite florist, favourite cafe, favourite tailor… And same as ever, favourite bookstore. There's joy in the familiarity, something soothing in knowing that somethings haven't changed. It may not be this way forever, but it is this way for now.

Finding the books is easy enough. Something with a pretty woman in green on the cover, a few romances, a singular historical fiction, a book of poetry selected separately for another… It's quick work, and even quicker work is made of groceries, a few extra ingredients to add to not-quite-Valentine's-Day party treat, and a passing glance at flowers for that same event. Simple tasks, quickly done. And aren't you proud of yourself!

You begin the walk home, brisk in your pace so you are not caught by anyone, eyes focused ahead, distracting yourself with a mental to-do list once you return to your hive. But something catches your ear, and, along with it, your attention.

"What the fuck is THAT thing?!"

The comment isn't directed at you, thankfully, but your hand is quick to flinch towards the dagger on your thigh. Two young trolls are speaking to each other, excited, and when you find where their voices are coming from, you see them, and several others, looking up.

You do the same.

Your heart nearly stops, the commotion on the street fading away from you, the dagger, your tasks, everything else leaving your mind. When you look up, you see the moons, pink shining fully and green slyly smiling, the stars blinking in a inky sky, and great white wings attached to a great white beast nearly blocking the heavens from view. A dragon, you hear someone shout. A dragon back in the city.

Two, you think. Two of us, here. Both of us in the city, together.

You can barely look away from him, eyes kept skyward so you don't lose him, jogging along the pavement, then breaking out into a full run. You can feel every muscle burning, your lungs full of fire, but you have to keep going. You've been tracking him for ages, and now he's so close-- every lonely hour poring over maps and records from sweeps you barely remember, every sobbed frustration over missed opportunities and a lack of understanding, every terror that crept into your mind because of sleepless nights, every day you have spent missing the one entity in any timeline who has always understood you… they're going to be worth it. You watch the clouds, you feel the wind, you wonder where he will land. You have your guess. You'll be fine if you're wrong.

You are a blur in your hive, throwing books on the couch, shoving food into the fridge, grabbing the bag you prepared for this exact event, and exit back out the door before you realise where you are. You check upward again, frantic. He's lower now, but still in view, moving away from the shore, away from the city (idly, you curse Treekat for being right about this, but swear you'll thank him properly, too.), towards the forest. You don't know if you can run again. But if you don't?

That's not even being considered.

A guttural cry leaves your chest, a roar in a language lost to most trolls, one you know will be recognised by who needs it. Again, again, again… the sound of an animal's young, desperate to be found by its parent. Draconian, shouted through tears you didn't know were spilling from you, as loud as you can manage, as loud as your can will your lungs, your throat to be: "Dad! Dad! Dad, can you hear me?" You repeat it, breathlessly, every few footfalls, panting hard as you try to keep him directly above you. The wings turn, and so does he, towards the edge of the woods you both know so well. He outpaces you, though, and he's sinking lower, lower. You cannot keep up. You lose him to the trees.

There is fear, immediately, that that was all you'd see of him. That this begins another hunt for who knows how long. You have kept shed scales and crushed leaves and singed bark, clues and keepsakes both. And here? You will keep trying. You will keep chasing him, however deep into the forest it takes you.

You don't know how long you run for. Could be minutes. Could be hours. The moons still hang above when you think to check the time-- even then, you don't register the numbers you're looking at. You're out of breath, voice hoarse from your continued hollers, sore from tip to toe. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think you should start running laps as part of your trainings, then feel immediately nauseous at the prospect of ever running again. You hold firm to an oak for support, eyes staring without focus in the direction of a bright red berry bush. But the flora hits something in your mind, and you bring yourself back to your surroundings. You're almost there. These bushes are ones you used to pick little snacks from, the tree you're holding onto has your initials, alongside your ex-moirail's, carved into the bark, and there is a heat you feel underfoot. It's not from the earth. It's radiating from something-- someone-- else.

Carefully, you press on, finally catching your breath, watching your footing and making sure to be noisy as you can manage, peering through leaves as you crawl under branches to an open patch in the woods. There sits your old hive, adorned with all its fairy lights and lanterns, silly wriggler's art on sideboards hidden under ivy, the trees surrounding it bending in gentle embrace. You've seen it recently, spending nights in it, cleaning it up to make it a place to love again.

The enormous dragon resting in front of it, curled up with smoke billowing from his nostrils, eyes bright and focused on you, is a new addition.

You can't move when you see him. You can't breathe, or think, or anything. He speaks to you, though, gently, kindly, warmly as ever, in the tongue that you made sure to never lose, to never forget. "Well, look at who it is. I've been looking for you for many moons, Advoca. Where have you been?"

In an instant, you drop your bag, and run (one more time, one more burst of energy) to him, arms flung across scales and holding tight to his neck as you sob. Claws come up to cradle you closer, gentle as they hold you tight. Just like how you've wanted for sweeps, just like you remember.

It's not where you've been, but where you are. And in this moment, held by your lusus, your dad, a dream you've held onto for eons? You feel like you are home.

[lionblaze03-2]

will be opening commissions btw, probably 7 dollars for a full colored full body. That’s where the poll hovered, between the 5-7 range and 7-10 range. So either 6.50 or 7 for 1 and then 10 for 2? Backgrounds are a whole other can of worms… I’m so bad at backgrounds I feel bad charging anyone for those LMAO

[fanfic-obsessed]

Jason Drake

Ok I have one for you that I think is hilarious to think about.

As always expect no cannon here. 

It starts a month or two after Tim Drake, age 9, started to take pictures of Batman and Robin (Still Dick Grayson).  Tim very much wants a sibling, but has not gathered the courage to ask his parents.  

He is out, taking pictures, thinking about how he wants a sibling as his path crosses Jason Todd (six months homeless). Tim takes this as a sign and, over the course of about three weeks, lures Jason home (treating him much like a feral cat). Once Jason is safely in Drake Manor, Tim semi- forcibly (Jason is not against it per say, but is a little confused) adopts him.  

Tim’s hacking is good enough that he is able to get back dated adoption records, a news announcement, Two interviews with Jack and Janet Drake about adopting Jason (credited to a journalist who died a month later in a rogue attack) inserted into all the correct places, and got Jason enrolled in Gotham Academy with Tim (backdated the enrollment records too).  

They live together in Drake manor for four months before Tim’s parents get back. Tim straight up gaslights them. Without even flinching “What do you mean you don’t remember Jason?” and “Of course Jason has been here for years, here’s the interview you did” and “Adopting him was such good optics for the company”

And it works (By the by, Mrs. Mac fully supports Tim’s slow abduction and adoption of Jason and is pleased to lie to the Drake parents about it). 

Within two days Janet Drake is half convinced that Jack tricked her into adopting his illegitimate son.  They go to a gala and, due to elite Gothamite weirdness, no one is willing to admit they had never met the older Drake boy before, Jason playing along seamlessly.  By the time the Drakes leave again, Janet is congratulating herself on convincing Jack to take in his illegitimate child (who has impeccable grades, and apparently inherited her appreciation for literature) to accompany her son. Particularly since Jason was good enough to understand that Tim was the Drake industry heir. 

Jack tends to hyper focus on archaeology and lives in a near constant state of ‘That sounds fake, but I don’t know enough to dispute it’. Loves his family though. Janet accidentally convinces him that Jason must be his, never mind that Janet was his highschool sweetheart and the only person he had ever had sex with.  He is not stupid, but is used to being around his genius wife and son and not understanding how they reach their correct conclusions. So just goes with it. 

Both boys go out to watch/take pictures of/ stalk Batman and Robin.  A few years after Dick becomes Nightwing, Stephanie is adopted by Bruce and becomes Robin. Meanwhile two unknown vigilantes, BlueJay  and Ketu (named for the Hindu Winged Serpent that represent Karmic collections both good and bad) start to operate solely in Crime Alley and seem to make a game of evading the Bats and Birds.  

Jason and Tim Drake take a particular interest in bettering Crime Alley, creating outreach programs and hiring for Drake industries and education programs with their parents' bemused backing (When Jason is 16 and Tim is 14, Tim discovers that several of the board members had been embezzling funds and prove it. The resulting shakeup still leaves Janet and Jack in charge on paper, but their instructions are ‘do whatever Jason and Tim say’)

[ninjago-fandom-history]

The oldest Ninjago Fanfic that I can find is dated December 4th, 2011. This was almost a year after the pilots initially aired and two days after Rise of the Snakes/Home aired.

As you cannot backdate works on fanfiction.net, the date published is the final date. And if no other fic had been there pre-mass deletion of fics in 2012/deleted any time before this moment, this is the first recorded fanfic in the fandom! (At least on ffn.)

The Fanfic in question is Tale of Cole: First of a LEGO Ninjago Trilogy by user TLFScarheart12.

Cole tells Kai about his early training and what he learned after facing a Kaiden.

This is the first of three fanfics in a series, as the title suggests. The other two are about Zane and Jay. (The Jay one even has a mention of an oni in the description!) I took the time to sit down and read this first one, and it is a nice little read!

Cole tells Kai a story about how he was convinced to actually try to be a team with Zane and Jay.

It sort of places Cole in a similar place to where Kai was in the pilots. He's trying to be the best, and in turn, he doesn't accept Zane and Jay's teamwork. SPOILERS: They end up saving him from the kaiden and he eventually learns the importance of teamwork.

For a fic that came out two days after the actual show aired, it works super well, I'd say!! It's a fun little read and a neat tidbit of our fandom's history!! It's also this author's first fanfic on their account, which consists of mostly Ninjago based works!!

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

simply lilac outtakes: dodo & minta

previous - backdated to round two eliminations

DODO: How did it go?

ARAMINTA: As these things do, I suppose. I doubt that anyone leaving was surprised.

DODO: Did you want to talk?

ARAMINTA: I do. But I don’t know how to word what I’d like to say.

DODO: You could try? And if I don’t understand something, I’ll ask?

ARAMINTA: It’s the show. It’s making me feel bad about myself.

ARAMINTA: I should be so happy. And when I’m not dwelling on things too much, I am. But then I think of all the different contestants, about half a dozen of who seem like they would be so well suited to Lilac, and then everyone else who you could have been happy with instead of me. And I wonder, did you choose wrongly? For yourself, I mean.

DODO: Well, I don’t wonder that.

ARAMINTA: But I do.

DODO: I wish that you wouldn’t.

ARAMINTA: So do I. But I don’t know how to stop.

DODO: But you’re the one who’s out of my league.

ARAMINTA: What?

DODO: What do you mean, ‘what’?

ARAMINTA: I just can’t understand how you could ever think that way.

DODO: Well that makes two of us. I’ve been overshadowed by my brother my whole life. And look at how messed up I’ve been since we got back.

ARAMINTA: Only due to trauma, and you never got a break from it the way we did with the rotations. And Leo’s not one tenth of the person that you are. Sorry, I know that he has his qualities. But he’s so attention-seeking and insecure that he has to try and insert himself into everything - even on your show! 

DODO: [chuckle] He does do that, yeah.

ARAMINTA: You’re confident and generous and selfless enough to share the spotlight with others. Look at how you play football. You know when to take a shot at goal - and when to pass the ball and set up a teammate who’s in a better position. Leo couldn’t spell ‘team’ without a ‘me.’

DODO: ‘Couldn’t spell ‘team’ without a ‘me?’ I’m so saving that for another day.

DODO: Okay, so I understand how you could feel considering - well, just look at my past BCs. And I know how things were with your father. Just because for some plumbed up reason he was incapable of loving you, it doesn’t mean that no one else is.

ARAMINTA: I know.

DODO: But knowing something isn’t the same as believing it, I guess?

ARAMINTA: No. It’s not.

DODO: I know that my mother loves me. And we have a good relationship. But Leo always had her attention growing up. And that was bad enough. I can’t imagine how much things with your father messed with your head. Do you realise how in light of that, it was so brave for you to even apply for the show? To put yourself out there and still have hope that things might work out?

ARAMINTA: I - admittedly - never had much hope. Mostly I wanted to break out of my comfort zone, perhaps learn something about myself, and to make some new friends.

DODO: And you did all those things, and more. And I definitely could have been more discreet.

ARAMINTA: We didn’t have a lot of privacy. And you were just doing your job.

DODO: No, I definitely could have.

ARAMINTA: You had all the decision making power. Well, Leo had all the decision making power. But it’s only through Lilac that I’m beginning to understand just how much stress and pressure that can bring, knowing that the decisions you make could directly impact the happiness of others, or that you would make the wrong choice.

DODO: Yeah, that wasn’t fun. But I was only worried that I would hurt other people. I never worried about choosing you - don’t you see? 

ARAMINTA: I am trying.

DODO: It wasn’t about passion and romance - well, not exclusively. It was about friendship and trust, and who I could see myself with beyond the initial spark. Because that can wax and wane, you know? [dryly] Or so I’ve been told.

ARAMINTA: [weak chuckle] So far I’ve yet to perceive that from you, yes.

DODO: It was about someone who saw and accepted my flaws, and who doesn’t judge me for them but who also doesn’t let me get away with them either - and who will give me the support and space to grow. Someone who’s always striving to be the best version of herself, so that I’m encouraged to do the same too. Someone who I can see the best version of myself in.

DODO: I guess I’ve always wanted to fall in love with my best friend. And now I’ve made a best friend, and she’s also the love of my life.

ARAMINTA: I - thank you. I needed to hear that.

DODO: Anytime.

ARAMINTA: I was wondering if - it’s not that you’re unaffectionate towards me. Lilac’s always joking about just how affectionate you are. But I don’t think there’s such a thing as being told too often for me.

DODO: Oh, challenge accepted. [...] You know, this gorgeous blonde once told me that I gave great hugs.

ARAMINTA: Oh, did she now?

ARAMINTA: I saw that these days, the ‘WowWow Hut’ is functioning as a vacation rental. And what I’m about to suggest may sound strange, but I was wondering if we could go back? Perhaps it may help to make it feel more like it’s ours.

DODO: Or we could make some new Sulani memories while we’re there.

ARAMINTA: I would like that. [...] Could I sit on your knee?

DODO: There’s always space on my knee for you.

ARAMINTA: I think that I should go and see the onset counselor.

DODO: I think that’s a great idea.

ARAMINTA: If I like them, would you want to make an appointment too?

DODO: Yeah, I would.

DODO: Hey, did you know that Watcher Ana once gave me the UNFLIRTY trait?

[Both laugh]

ty @akitasimblr as always for dodo harper and for your help with this!

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 9 - Partance

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: A tiny touch of spice... some making out, celebrations and some more late-night confessions.

Word Count: 3.4k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is when we find out if their whole gamble pays off... Happy Valentine’s Day! This is my gift to you 🫶 Also, be warned that the rating will increase in the next chapter. 😉 Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Montivilliers (just outside Le Havre), September 1939

You awaken early to the smell of fresh coffee brewing. A glance into the living room, as you wander downstairs towards the enticing scent, shows the sofa is already rearranged and blankets neatly stowed, as if not slept on at all - a little twinge behind your ribs at Benedict’s forethought around the ruse you shared a bed last night.

Almost reluctant, you enter the kitchen, and there he is, pouring two cups from the cafetière, the sunlight catching the ring on his finger as he does so. Your husband. Benedict Bridgerton. He twists, and you see he is wearing glasses, taking you by surprise. On the table, you spy a newspaper open. You are momentarily embarrassed that you are married to a man you know so little about; you didn't even know he wore reading glasses.

“Good morning,” his greeting is soft but apprehensive. 

“Good morning,” you mumble back, taking the proffered cup from him without quite letting your fingers touch.

Guilt eats at your soul as you take a seat, the creak of the old chair as you sit down seeming so loud in the otherwise silent room - guilt about pushing him too far with kissing, guilt about your confession, as if you burdened his sleeping subconscious with an unfair weight. It makes the need to talk about anything else bubble up within you.

“I had an idea,” you break the silence as he takes a seat. He says nothing in response, just looks at you expectantly. “We could pretend our relationship developed long distance. Say that we met through Eloise a few years ago? But were both with other people at the time. Perhaps we wrote to each other and, over time, grew close? I thought we could write some ‘fake’ love letters this morning. Fold them up, make them look a little old and creased, you know, and then exchange? Carry the letters as if we truly sent them to each other. It doesn't have to be many. Maybe 3 or 4? Backdated, of course.”

As you talk, his face lights up. “It’s brilliant!” he enthuses quietly, whipping off his glasses. “It's the perfect explanation! Then it makes sense I rush to Paris to rescue you! And my sister. The outbreak of war made me realise what you truly mean to me,” he spitballs, talking fast, gesturing animatedly. “It would explain our whirlwind marriage too - that we couldn't live another day apart without…. without being together with the looming uncertainty of war.”

His chair drags loudly across the tile as he stands up rapidly, grabs your hands, and hauls you up and into an embrace, lifting you off the ground and twirling around—a spontaneous celebration.

“You are brilliant!” he exclaims fervently, and then your lips find each other impromptu. A kiss that starts as a mere brush to seal the pact rapidly morphs into something else. Before you know it, your mouths are open, tongues tangled, and he is hoisting you higher in his arms, his hands grabbing your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist so your nightgown rides up to your hips, the heat of his pelvis crushed against yours through thin cotton pyjamas….

And that is the sight which greets the returning homeowners and Eloise. 

A loud squeak from Marie has you rocketing apart, sliding down his torso back to your feet, cheeks aflame. But it's too late. There is no way to deny what they walked in upon-–you wrapped around Benedict’s body as you kiss fiercely.

“Wow… I miss that passion,” Jerome wisecracks in a bid to break the tension.

Although she is silent, the look on Eloise’s face is one you won't soon forget—shock, abhorrence but a streak of inquisition, as if taking on new information and filing it away. 

You and Benedict both mutter apologies in unison, which seems to charm your hosts even more into good-natured joshing as they unpack croissants and jams from a wicker basket.

“A breakfast for our newlyweds,” Marie chimes with a wink. “I’m sure you need sustenance after a night like yours.”

In some ways, although mortifying, you cannot deny the cinch they caught you in does not exactly hurt the illusion of you being a real couple.

And so you all take a seat and begin breakfast together. Each treat on the table is delicious, and the conversation flows easily.

“You do know Solene will be mad she was not invited to the wedding,” Eloise remarks offhand at one point.

“Pssh! Let me deal with my sister,” Marie counters with an almost stereotypical Gallic shrug and a dismissive chuckle. 

—

With a couple of hours until your sailing, you pack the few things you unpacked in the last couple of days and then turn to letter writing as Eloise reads. You sit outside, a delicate breeze over your sleeves as Benedict joins you. You agree on some dates and then fall silent as you pick up pen and paper and compose letters. 

Yours don't feel sophisticated, but they feel honest - writing about actual events back home and more recently in Paris to lend an air of believability, interspersed with words of affection, longing, and hope to be reunited. Your final letter is dated the day war was declared, expressing a need to see him as soon as possible.

You have no idea what Benedict is writing, but his intensity and speed impress you, pages seeming to pile up around his elbows as you see glimpses of his elegant, looped script.

“I just have much to say, that’s all,” he responds, somewhat enigmatic when you express your concern that his letters appear much longer than yours.

—

Before you know it, Jerome and Marie are dropping you off at the port in Le Havre, hugging you all so tightly with promises of letters, telegrams, and phone calls. You will certainly miss them and Solene; they have been so welcoming to you, even for such a short period.

Benedict wraps an arm around your shoulder as a porter loads your cases onto a trolley and accompanies you to the boarding queue.

“Just like we practised,” he turns his head and murmurs into your ear so only you hear. 

And then he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you, instantly opening your mouth under his, your pulse racing even among the crowd.

“Do you mind?” Eloises hisses, disgust evident on her face.

Breaking the kiss, you giggle and bury your face in Benedict's shoulder as he shoots her his trademark elder brother look of derision.

“Do you want your best friend to come with us to England or not, sister? Because we have to look married and madly in love,” he points out, his arm stroking your back.

“You don't have to swallow her face,” Eloise grouses, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes as she pouts, looking aside.

“The more convincing, the better,” he counters, but their dispute is interrupted by your being called forward to the desk.

After asking for your tickets and passport, the surly young man looks at your passport and frowns.

“Are you planning to remain in the UK?” His ask is terse.

“Yes,” you reply, clear but polite.

“Reason?”

“She is my wife,” Benedict cuts in, that arm back across your shoulders.

“Do you have proof?” the man looks sceptical.

Benedict produces the marriage certificate from a folio in his case. 

The man scans the document, his frown deepening. “You got married yesterday?” His questioning tone raises the attention of others nearby.

Your heart leaps into your mouth as a face you recognise materialises from behind a glass office. It's Theo Sharpe - the young soldier Eloise met in the bistro a few days ago.

“Is there a problem here, Jones?” he asks with an official tone.

“These two just got married. I have concerns…”

Theo peers at Benedict and you as if assessing you as a couple.

“What sort of concerns? They look in love to me…”

“We have letters!” you pipe up, nerves jangling.

“Letters?”

“Love letters we have written to each other over the months.” Benedict takes over. “When war broke out, I had to come and rescue the woman I loved. And then I could not resist proposing. And yes, we married yesterday. Sirs, you likely know better than anyone - war brings clarity to a man’s heart like nothing else. I could not go another day without her being my wife…” his speech is reserved but impassioned, and when he is done, he tucks you under his arm, kissing your forehead. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eloise frown as he hands over your letters, and you do the same with his from your handbag. Theo takes the pile and unfolds them, his eyebrow rising at something in one from Benedict’s pile.

“Jones, tell me that is not the sign of a man in love,” he tilts the page to his fellow soldier, seemingly pointing to a particular line.

The man coughs and runs a finger into his collar.  “Oh… well… yes…” he seems to stumble, his cheeks heating.

What on earth did Benedict write?

“I think we can safely say they are a real couple, can't we?” Theo argues, refolding the letters and handing them back to you.

“Yes, yes, I think so…” the man agrees hesitantly.

“Well then, please issue the lady with the paperwork for residency,” Theo prompts, almost impatient.

You can barely contain the furl of excitement as the man dutifully grabs an official certificate and transfers your details, passing it under an embossing stamp and placing it inside your passport.

“Welcome to the United Kingdom, Mrs Bridgerton,” he smiles tightly as you see Theo shoot Eloise the briefest of winks behind the man’s back.

“Thank you, sir,” you breathe, almost stunned into a quiet silence, as again you are in Benedict's strong embrace. 

“Well done, you were perfect,” he assures a few moments later as you walk up the ramp onto the ferry, his arms never having left your shoulders since. 

With reality finally setting in, relief and elation radiate from inside - like the sunny day seeping into your being, making you feel the lightest you have felt in weeks. You can't help the grin you shoot him and drop a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“All thanks to you,” you demure as you cross onto the deck, “I owe you my life.”

“You owe me no such thing,” he counters immediately and sincerely. “Your idea - the letters - that is what sealed your future. You are much smarter and stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he adds, his tone ardent, a hand tenderly cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes your cheek. 

Again, you find yourself lost in his eyes.

“God’s sake, you can quit the mooning now, you idiots,” Eloise gripes and elbows Benedict unceremoniously out of the way, drawing you into a bear hug. “I’m so happy!” she chimes into your ear.

“Me too,” you reply, laughing joyously, hugging her back as fiercely.

“I may have planned for this,” she winks, withdrawing to pull a bottle of champagne from her bag with a flourish. 

And so, as the ferry pulls out of port and enters the English Channel, the three of you raise a toast to France as you watch the shoreline slip away. A kaleidoscope of emotions washing over you - a bittersweet farewell to your all-too-short French adventure, but also excitement and apprehension for the start of something new. A stay in England. And a new husband, well, sort of. For the first time, the future feels completely unwritten in a way that is freeing.

—

When you arrive in Portsmouth that evening, you immediately head for the stately Royal Maritime Hotel by the port. But there is a snag when you get to the check-in desk. The late hour and no reservation means only one room is left—with one double bed. 

“I will sleep on the floor,” Benedict offers, ever the gentleman, as you all accept the room, knowing it's likely a similar story in all the other hotels with this many people escaping mainland Europe.

After dropping your luggage, you all head to dinner, which becomes drinks in a local bar, all of you wanting the celebratory mood to last a little longer. You nurse just one drink while Eloise seems determined to drain the port city dry, tipsily wandering off to the little dancefloor in the back room. 

At some later point, while Benedict is at the bar paying the tab, Eloise returns, sidling up to your seat and loops her arms around you.

“You know how much I love you…?” 

“What do you want, Eloise?” you chuckle, patting her elbow as you let her sway you with her hug.

“I've met someone,” she whispers excitedly, her breath sweetened by brandy, “and I realllllly like him. His name is Phillip. He’s lovellllyyy,” she singsongs.

“That's nice. But what does that have to do with me?” you ask, amused.

“If I were to spend the evening with him, would that be okay? With you?” 

“You've never asked my permission to enjoy your previous dalliances, El; why now?” You are finding her thoroughly entertaining.

“Becaaaaause it means you will be stuck alone in a room with my brother,” she spells out. “And no woman should have to endure that,” she counsels with faux gravity, only mildly undermined by her comedic look of horror.

Your stomach vaults at the idea of a night alone with Benedict in a hotel room, but you must school your face to one of casual indifference.

“El, I shared a cottage with him last night; I think I can handle it.”

“Oh yes… and what in God's name was this morning all about?” she suddenly shifts the topic, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

You do your best not to choke on your sip of cocktail. “We saw you all coming up the path. Benedict thought it best for the ruse if we were caught in a compromising situation,” you bluff, waving your hand dismissively, even as you feel your cheeks glowing at the mere memory.

She side-eyes you momentarily but seems to accept it, giving you one more squeeze before bidding you goodnight. Her farewell to Benedict at the bar appears to be a smack on the arm and a warning with a pointed finger—ever the loving siblings. Then, with a flutter of butterflies under your ribs about the night ahead, you and Benedict head back to the hotel.

“Thank you again,” your tone is sincere as he unlocks the room. “If we had only known Theo would be at the port, maybe we wouldn't have had to go through all we did,” you point out wincingly, still apologetic, as he secures the door closed.

“We did what we had to. We were very fortunate he was there today; it was a wonderful coincidence, but we had to prepare for any circumstance. Besides, it is all water under the bridge now. You have your paperwork. You have your residency,” he points out brightly.

“But you had to marry me….” you point out, unable to let it go, guilt still shadowing your heart. “That was a huge sacrifice.”

“I am not the one who had to break a promise to another,” he counters softly. “You had to be the brave one here. You should not think of yourself as selfish. And you should feel free to pursue whatever you want in this world, y/n.”

Something in the choice of words in his heartfelt petition seems oddly reminiscent, but you cannot pinpoint it.

“I will still sleep on the floor,” he adds reassuringly, removing his coat.

“We… we could share…?” you feel your heart pound as you extend the tentative offer. 

The look on his face is indecipherable, but you don't miss how his pupils dilate a fraction. “I promise not to kick…” his response is a genial callback to your discussion days ago.

You giggle, feeling that lightness in your being again. “And if you do, I’m sure I could find plenty of rope to remedy that. We are right by a port after all,” you can't help but banter back, gesturing to the harbour outside the window.

His responding warm laugh is like a balm.

He excuses himself to shower, and while he is gone, you unpack some basics. As you are delving in your bag for your hairbrush, the pile of letters Benedict handed you spills out. 

Intrigued, you unfold them—curious to know what Theo had seen. The letters are a thing of beauty; you find yourself crawling onto the bed to read them properly. Pages of lyrically crafted praise that make your correspondence seem entirely lacking, more akin to a boring newsletter. You find yourself swept up in reading - lines of poetry, yearning sentiments and a few racier epithets that make your breath catch and your blood run hot.

‘Every night since we met, my love, I dream of nothing but you. Endlessly. I dream of your laugh, your smile, that wonderful little crease on your forehead when you think I am being foolish. You captivate me - body and soul. I dream of that delectable noise you make when I kiss you. I dream of tasting your skin. I dream of you coming apart in my arms, grasping me so tight you leave finger marks on my body. One day, my love, one day…’

You almost jump out of your skin when Benedict reenters the room, freshly showered, his hair in damp curls, sporting a distractingly fitted white t-shirt. You attempt to conceal what you are reading, embarrassed somehow, but it’s too late.

“I was wondering if you would,” he laughs softly when he realises.

“I’m sorry,” you utter, feeling as if you have snooped somewhere you should not have.

“Don't be,” he cuts in, smiling gently.

“How did you think up such poetic stuff?” you query, fingertips tracing almost reverentially over the words. A wistful ache in your being, hoping anyone would ever be inspired to write such an elegy to you one day.

“I just told the truth,” he shrugs.

“You must’ve been in love with whoever has made you feel like this in the past,” you sigh, standing up to put the letters aside on a table, feeling as if they definitely do not belong to you. Conscious of the slim band around your left ring finger, like a guilty weight stopping him from that possible life.

There is a long pause, making you look up at him. He is drawing near, something profound burning in his expression.

“You,” he breathes finally. “You inspired this in me.”

The confession knocks the breath from your very lungs, almost a need to bend double.

“Wh….” you cannot even find enough voice to finish a simple word.

He moves closer until you are almost touching.

“I heard you…” he admits softly, his fingers encircling your wrist, then bringing your hand close to his face. “Last night, when you thought I was asleep…” a plunge of utter dread in your stomach as you realise what he means. Your confession.

Oh no.

“Benedict, I….” but you can't finish. There is no end to that sentence, even in your quick mind.

“So I thought it was only fair you have mine,” he continues, a flicker of a modest but charming smile as he tilts his head to the pile of letters. 

Your eyes cut briefly to them before darting back to him.

“Y… you dream of nothing but me…?” you stutter, parroting one of the many memorable lines, a flicker of desire and hope and yearning so strong you can't help but ask.

His smile turns crooked. “Every night…” he confirms, eyes glittering.

“A-all of it?” you can barely utter it, your cheeks heating as you recall precisely what he wrote that he dreams about.

“Every word,” he asserts before his warm lips brush the back of your knuckles. 

It's like you are thrown into a hurricane, a hundred thoughts and feelings tumbling, making your breath catch hard in your lungs. But it all converges into one singularity as you stare up into those hypnotic eyes. An overwhelming need coursing through you. For him. A longing that is tart on your tongue and deep in your core. And you are powerless to do anything but grab his neck and pull him down into a searing kiss. 

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spitt @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[olderthannetfic]

I thought it would be interesting to see if I could easily determine which ships had the most works updated in 2023.

It turned out to be fairly easy, though a little time consuming. I think these results should be reasonably accurate.

Some points to note:

I did this on my own account, and I have like 2 people muted. So I am capturing the effects of archive-locked works, but my numbers might be off by one or two works due to muting.

Works updated in 2023 is a number that constantly changes as works are deleted or updated again in 2024.

I didn't scrape the entire archive or anything like that, so it's possible I missed a ship that would bump one of these down below 100. I'd take the last few at the bottom there with a grain of salt. But I think we can be reasonably sure the top ones are accurate and that the kinds of numbers that we see at the bottom there (eighteen hundred plus works updated in 2023) are about where the cutoff will be even if we find a ship I missed.

--

As for how I did this, I went to the category tags and the rating tags, filtered for updating in 2023, then excluded ships in the sidebar till I got to 130-150 ships excluded. I also grabbed ships that are big in general from tag search, which you can use to find all relationship canonicals, ordered by frequency.

I combined those lists of ships, cleaned off the works numbers, and generated a list without duplicates. That got me three hundred and something (yes, they were mostly duplicates). I generated the relevant AO3 URLs, opened them in batches with Open Multiple URLs, and copied the works totals into a spreadsheet. Not as tidy as using a script but honestly pretty easy if you know a few spreadsheet formulas to clean up data.

The key here is that if you're only going for pretty good and not accurate beyond a shadow of a doubt, all you need to do is generate a list of likely ships, then check them.

It's possible that there's some much-updated ship that is so evenly spread across these various other tags that it just missed showing up in the sidebar. Hopefully, grabbing more than just the top 100 avoided this problem.

This method also doesn't take into account backdated works. If a whole archive was imported in 2023 but all backdated, there could be some ship that didn't have new works but where AO3 users experience in 2023 was of an influx of content.

I also did this just now, in late March/early April, so some 2023 works have inevitably been deleted or updated again. So the exact work counts don't represent the experience of using AO3 throughout 2023. A fandom active in early 2023 might not have much updating in early 2024, while a fandom active in late 2023 would. This could demote the latter a few places in the rankings since I didn't grab numbers on January 1st.

Even if a person scraped AO3 every day or was monkeying around in the databases, you also have to ask what conceptual answer you're after. Is it works a user could have read at some point during 2023, whether they were deleted by the year's end or not? Is it new-to-AO3 works or only newly-created ones, not including imported archives? Does it matter if the works are fic? If they're in English? What about accidental double-uploads or translations of a single work?

I hope this makes it clear why a definitive ranking is not actually possible.

However, despite these drawbacks, I am confident that the rankings above accurately represent the broad trends on AO3 in 2023. Just don't get too fixated on whether a ship should be at number 73 or number 74.

And, of course, I excluded these from the top 100:

Original Character(s)/Original Character(s) - 20,026

Minor or Background Relationship(s) - 16,187

No Romantic Relationship(s) - 8,052

Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s) - 7,195

Original Male Character/Original Male Character - 6,283

Other Relationship Tags to Be Added - 5,618

Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s) - 3,990

Original Character(s) & Original Character(s) - 3,210

Here's a spreadsheet if you want to see the actual numbers not as a shitty screencap. I left the next few below 100 for context.

[horreurscopes]

not that i think a fake planted suspect is above the nypd/fbi but the reason why the conspiracy that maglione isn't the shooter seems wildly implausible to me is that if you follow that train of logic, it opens up two different scenarios: either they found a random guy who looks very much like the suspect (and he does, people who say they don't look alike just don't understand how facial structures and angles work lol) who happens to have an internet history spanning months/years of activity that creates a clear picture of his thought processes, political beliefs and inspirations, and material conditions that could, hypothetically, lead him to commit the assassination, including friends and family who could testify that his physical and mental condition due to chronic pain had deteriorated, OR, all of that history is somehow retroactively planted, which, all ridiculous backdating logistics aside, isn't the joke that the feds cannot reproduce with accuracy the speech and posting patterns of radicals without sounding like two cops in a trenchcoat. both of these would necessitate dozens of people to actively cooperate into creating and maintaining the façade, through many hours of boring, difficult grunt work for what; a goodreads account and a letterboxd? all of these government conspiracy theories fall apart when you actually start to imagine what the functioning infrastructures needed to keep a secret like this would look like. plausible for military technology, sure, but a competency coverup? it's hard for me to believe a stupid nypd cop wouldn't slip in a matter of hours. i agree that the circumstances in which he was caught are suspicious but isn't the much simpler explanation that he is either a bit bafflingly stupid (i seriously thought he'd be in argentina in a day) or more likely either decided to get caught for political reasons, or, frankly, wanting to claim the notoriety

[neechees]

hello, thanks so much for doing your scam busting, is the account @/shtunning another palestine scam? i can't find the images used on google anywhere, but the lack of a gofundme makes me wary

This one is looking veeeery suspicious & is pretty much most certainly a scam for the dollowing reasons:

El-shab-hussein, a Palestinian who's been helping us with vetting real Palestinian fundraisers from scams, says that the ONLY confirmed Palestinian fundraisers who claim to be in Gaza are on this list, and that blog is not one of them

That blog already has me preemptively blocked 🤨 🚩 I've never interacted with this person in my life, and its a big red flag to have scam busters blocked

Their donation post was made YESTERDAY, and their archive is turned off 🚩we see scammers do this to hide how old their blog actually is (that it's new and suddenly asking for money) and to make it harder to investigate them

Their donation post reblogs and replies have been turned off 🚩scammers do this usually after someone has called them out on their suspicious behavior, often with proof that they're scamming, and they do it to hide the evidence and prevent anyone from seeing or reblogging this evidence against them

They're asking for donations, but do not provide a paypal or gofundme attached 🚩 scammers nowadays also often try to hide their paypal because they like to reuse one account across multiple scams, and used them enough for those accounts to be recognizable bc scam busters keep track of them. Additionally, you can tell someone's actual location by a paypal link, so scammers often are trying to hide any discrepancies in their fake story (like say, pretending to be in Europe but are actually in Canada). Laura Deramas & co have been doing this a lot, so I wouldn't be surprised if this was her

They claim that the photos they provide are of their family in Gaza, but there's literally a watermark of these photos originally being from the website Gazanow 🚩 why you would use a seperate website's photos of your family & then blur out your family's faces from the photo (even though it's already on a public website & that's where you got it?), instead of any photos that THEY themselves took, makes no sense to me, & is extremely suspicious.

They claim their "entire family" is in Gaza and that they've been working & supporting their family abroad (presumably allegedly in Europe since theyre asking for money in Euros) since 2016, and that they are 24 years old. So according to them, They've been the single sole supporter of their entire family in Gaza & moved to & have been living in Europe ALONE since the age of 16? Idk that kinda doesn't seem that plausible to me.

They've backdated their blog, and tried to use posts with thousands of notes to make it harder to find that out lol 🚩🚩🚩according to the screenshots below, they backdated their blog (& in particular, this post) to look like it reblogged a post on February 17th, 2024. But once I looked in the notes, I very quickly found it in the most recent notes that it was ACTUALLY reblogged YESTERDAY

[Image description: two vertically stacked screenshots with a blue water filter over them. The first shows a screenshots of a reblog by the user shtunning, showing a falsified reblog date of February 17th 2024. The second shows the real date within the notes of this post that they had reblogged, dated to "1 day ago", April 17th, 2024. End image description.]

And as another thing, they're claiming to be Palestinian, but using language an actual Palestinian who has lived in Palestine would never use lol, such as "revive peace between us". There was no "peace" in Gaza before this, Gaza is an open air prison under a settler colonial occupation and has been bombed regularly for decades?

So yeah this is definitely a scammer lol

[seeingteacupsindragons]

One of the fun things about Stanley and Xeno both working for the US government is that their salaries are readily available publicly. I could also backdate the information to 2019 if I wanted to, but I don't, so.

I mean, that pay's not great, honestly, but for a 25yo? He's doing okay. And if he doesn't live on base, he also gets a housing allowance that varies depending on where he's located. Of course, this would mean he's born quite a bit later than he is in canon, but I don't really feel like backdating this six years.

Xeno is a little trickier because we can't intuit his exact role. But he does seem to be NASA's preeminent engineer even at his age, and he's well-respected enough to get called upon for unrelated tasks. Ryusui calls him the world's best rocket engineer, but that doesn't necessarily mean he had the highest possible role at NASA.

But let's presume he did. He did have a Ph.D. at 19 after all.

So let's give him a GS-15 scale, which is the highest you can go without being an executive. It's usually supervisors, but top skill individual contributors can sometimes get it, too. According to Reddit, NASA is one of the fastest tracks to getting a high GS level anyway.

Unlike Stanley, we need to know where Xeno worked, but we do! Houston! Because that's where the JSC is, and that's where he worked.

The highest possible Step he could have in his service is Step 5, because as good as he is, he's only so old and can only have so many years of service.

Which would mean he was only a GS-15 for two years max, but that means he probably jumped pretty quickly up to it. Which also implies he has satisfactory job performance, so we'll just ignore the fact that he probably lived in HR's office.

Let's punch all that into our calculator:

Honestly, that's horrifically low for the student loan debt Xeno has probably racked up. But regardless, that does mean he's probably the one paying their mortgage.

Please also enjoy the fact that at least as far as pay goes, Xeno outranks Stan.

Alas, neither of them are making bank, but they chose to work for the US government, so what were they expecting, really?

And Stan accrues 2.5 days of leave every month, and Xeno is getting two days or so every month.

So at least they get time off?

Anyway, while I was looking all of this up, I found this on NASA's website:

I hope no one put Xeno on there (they probably did).

[pixeldistractions]

Sebastian wasn’t a big fan of Thanksgiving, and neither was Colette, but it stood that most other people in the country were. It would be challenging to find a suitable babysitter two days before a major holiday. 

“There’s really nobody else to call,” Felix reasoned. “She’s not that bad. It’s not like she fed us poison or anything.” 

“Please, please,” the boys begged in unison. 

Even though Colette would be quite happy to never see Gabby Roseland in her home again, the boys had a point, the clever little weasels. They were cut from her own DNA and they weren’t wrong. 

So she called Gabby. 

“Well,” Gabby said. “It is two days before Thanksgiving. I’m technically already on my holiday weekend. I’d be missing valuable rest time, and don’t you know eleventh grade is murder? I’ll need time-and-a-half rates, and we’ll eat Chinese delivery instead of pizza.”

Goddamn, that girl. But, at the same time, Colette respected her hustle. 

“Fine, can you be here at six?”

Dating was going horribly, in Colette’s opinion—make no mistake about that—but Colette did enjoy having a good reason to dress up. She had a whole closet full of pretty things that had hardly seen the light of day or night over the past ten years. If she and Jordan ever attempted to go out somewhere together, which may have happened once or twice in their time, it wouldn’t have been the kind of place to require a gown and heels. 

Maybe she needed to be with the kind of man who wanted to take her to an art gallery or an opera or a charity ball.

Or maybe Sebastian’s wife would see them out together tonight and claw her eyes out, and nobody would ever want to look at her ruined face again.

Damn. Tonight, Colette’s own claws were unmanicured and stubby. 

Sometimes Colette felt a great humbling coming for her soul. Yes, of course she had a soul. It was a dark and shriveled little thing, buried somewhere in her chest, but it was there. All this angst and turmoil in her life fed upon itself, growing itself like a tumor, preparing itself for some grave moment in her near future when it would all explode in her face, violently. And when that moment came for her, she would have stubby nails. She just knew it. 

The boys came up to her room in the moments before Gabby was due to arrive. 

“I didn’t know you had so many dresses,” Felix said. “Is your friend your boyfriend like dad’s friend is his girlfriend?” 

“No,” Colette scoffed. “Definitely not. Definitely not like that.” 

“Good,” he added.

Good? Colette let that tiny sentiment make her feel validated.

Well, it was fine enough to indulge herself for a night, but she couldn’t imagine bringing a whole person into their lives like their father had felt compelled to do. She wasn’t convinced he had the boys’ best interests in mind. 

“I just want you both to remember that the people who are supposed to have your back won’t always be reliable. It’s not nice when that happens, but it does happen, and sometimes you’ll need to look out for yourselves.” 

“Because Gabby?” 

“Sure, because Gabby.” 

Colette didn’t know if she was talking about Gabby, who seemed to find it a game to spoil their last remaining drops of innocence; or their father, who was five states away with his new girlfriend because he wanted to be; or their grandmother, who wanted to shower them with ten years of backdated attention only to surely take it all away. Or, probably, all of the above.

But not me, she wanted to add. Wanted to, but she stopped short. She would never disappoint these boys. Never! But maybe sometimes you just don’t know what humbling your life will deliver and how it will unfold. You can’t promise what you don't know.

Then their doorbell rang, and it was time. They all went downstairs to greet their trusty babysitter and lay out the rules for the night. Colette had provided them with a charming assortment of age-appropriate board games and puzzles.

Gabby rolled her eyes. "I mean, buckets of lame. But we’ll play them, if you want."

And the boys snickered to each other delightfully.

And Colette knew for sure she meant Gabby in that lecture to the boys upstairs. Definitely watch out for Gabby.

— boxes and squares #5.3: hindsight is a bitch, part 9/11

next -> // 5.3 start // index

[grison-in-space]

So how long did it end up taking for the tow truck to show up? Did you beat South Korea’s overturn of martial law?

ha, I drafted a post to respond to that last night and then fell over (it turns out that sitting for 3hrs in an unheated car during MN december is pretty exhausting).

honestly it probably took as long as the South Koreans, maybe a little longer, but fortunately not that long. No more than 3h, definitely no less than 2h 15m. the tow man arrived just as the last few board members were wiggling over fences, but the vote had gone through by the time I was settled in his cab on the way to the dealership where I bought the car three fucking weeks ago for diagnostics and repair.

we lost a little time when the tow man asked in some despair if Matilda could ride in the car being towed. I noted that if it was safe for her to do that I would like to do that as well, and he sloped off to carve her out a little room in the snack detritus of his back seat. (He asked that she not eat his snacks. Matilda's commitment to professionalism is sufficiently absolute that she once successfully convinced a trainer who had known her from ten weeks that she didn't have fun and play games--she just doesn't play games when she has Job going on. Frankly, she didn't even look particularly interested in snacks or the cab, just focused on me and what I might ask her to do next. I was very proud.)

as for what happened, turns out that car manufacturers have installed anti-siphoning technology into the fuel tank entry point, so now gas siphoners just drill into your fucking gas tank to steal a gallon of gas instead. :) $1800 for a new tank, and I hadn't got the insurance on my new car yet. not ideal. fortunately the insurance were happy to backdate it as long as I showed them the bill of sale. I would like to ask the universe, as always, what the fuck is wrong with it.

more gushing about my very professional little dog under very trying circumstances under the cut.

see, I had never ridden in a tow truck cab before, so what I learned is that this one at least had two steep steps up to the actual seat. Tilly, whose usual habit is to hop into the driver's side and climb over the console to her usual spot where I can buckle her in, saw that and froze a little--understandably--so I hoisted her up. Unfortunately, we are in Minnesota and it is December, and the Manitobahs I was wearing have many strengths but grippiness is not really one of them. I slipped a little, and she.... handled it like a pro and was even able to negotiate getting down from the cab by herself safely, with me ready to catch her, on cue.

Then she came into the dealership with me to sort out telling people where the car was and getting it taken in for service, during which she sat politely and waited for a pretty long period of time getting it checked out. We eventually got a lift home and a Culver's trip on the way, and she got a whole fry she absolutely earned.

I am again very proud of her. She's handled objectively unexpected and horrible days in our life politely, professionally, and causing the minimum disruption under some very trying circumstances.

Also, what the fuck is with my luck, and do need some kind of cleansing ritual or something here?

[imogenleewriter]

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson AO3 Works Stats

The other day, I was curious to see what the trajectory of uploads of Larry fanfic on Ao3 was and if it was increasing.Anyway, it was a pretty simple process, and here were the findings:

Perfect right? Done. Time to go to bed? No, because ya girl got hyper-fixated. So grab a cup of tea and enjoy this absolutely ridiculous waste of time...

Introduction

The Covid-19 pandemic profoundly affected various aspects of societal behaviour, including participation in online communities. The ‘Larry fan fiction community’ had a notable influx of new participants and emerging writers during this period. My antedotal observations suggested a significant number of authors have been publishing their first works as recently as this month. This study aims to quantify the trends in Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson fan fiction uploads on AO3 (Archive Of Our Own) over the past decade, with a particular focus on discerning any noticeable uptick in contributions corresponding to the pandemic’s timeline.

Method

The data collection was executed over several days, starting from the 16th of October 2023. Due to this, the 16th of October was used as a reference point for all of the 12-month periods. The following parameters were employed for filtering:

Relationship Category: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson.

Inclusivity: All pieces that included this relationship, irrespective of the presence of other pairings. The result of this means there are likely some works included where they are a side pairing.

Language: All languages were included.

Work Status: Both individual pieces and those parts of a series were included, as were completed and incomplete works.

Accessibility: Being logged in allowed access to members-only works.

During the analysis, two works were excluded due to backdating, to ensure the timeframe remained consistent. Due to the dynamic nature of the fan fiction platform, some works underwent updates or were removed during the data collection process. While these fluctuations did cause some inconsistencies, they were negligible and did not significantly impact the overall dataset.

For the 12-month periods under consideration, three main categories were analysed: total, completed, and unfinished.

Results

A comprehensive analysis of Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson fan fiction uploads spanning from 2011 to 2023 revealed the following insights:

2011: A total of sixteen works were documented, all of which were completed.

2012: The total number of uploads rose to 417. Among these, 409 were completed works, while eight remained unfinished.

2013: A significant surge was observed, with total uploads reaching 4,795. Completed works accounted for 4,251, whereas 544 were left incomplete.

2014: The growth trend continued, recording a total of 6,303 uploads. 5,296 were completed, and 1,007 were in-progress.

2015: The first decline was witnessed, although minor, with 6,105 total uploads. Completed works comprised 4,919, and unfinished ones stood at 1,186.

2016: A slight decline was noted, totalling 4,805 works. Completed pieces were 3,765, with 1,040 still in-progress.

2017: Uploads further decreased to 2,898. Of these, 2,297 were completed, and 601 remained unfinished.

2018: A modest rise was seen with 2,784 total works. Completed contributions were 2,275, while 509 were ongoing.

2019: The total dropped to 2,064. Completed pieces stood at 1,700, and 364 were still under development.

2020: A slight increment occurred, totalling 2,572 uploads. Of these, 2,071 were finished, and 501 were ongoing.

2021: The count increased to 3,195. Completed works reached 2,483, with 712 in-progress.

2022: A total of 3,767 works were uploaded. Completed works were 3,090, while 677 were yet to be finished.

2023: The most recent data showcases 4,018 total works, with 3,104 completed and 914 still ongoing.

After collating the primary data on completed and uncompleted works, I wanted to look at the distribution based on word count. The intention behind this exploration was to discern if there were patterns or preferences within the writing community regarding the length of the stories. (Please note that on diagrams representing word count, the years are now in descending order)

The categorisation of word count was structured. Works were segmented into word count brackets that started from the shortest stories, ranging from 0 to 1999 words, then progressively moved up in intervals: 2000-4999 words, 5000-9999 words, and so on due to the high prevalence in numbers in the shorter works. This structured approach allowed for a visual representation of how numerous works fell into each bracket for each year.

If you click on it, you might be able to see the distribution.

Results: Word Count Analysis

The following overview encapsulates the distribution of word counts for fan fiction uploads from 2011 to 2023:

0-10,000 Words:

2023 observed the highest concentration within this frame with 2507 works. Over half of the total published works for the 12-month period were found within this bracket.

The trend experienced notable growth from the 14 entries in 2012.

2014 saw a peak with 4994 works in this category, followed by a fluctuating pattern in subsequent years.

10,001-50,000 Words:

2023 recorded 1,031, a slight increase from 1,010 in 2022.

2015 led the chart with the most works in this range.

50,001-100,000 Words:

The count in 2023 showcased the highest number in this category, with 293 works.

2016 and 2021 were equal second, with 219 works in this category.

100,001-300,000 Words:

2023 had the most works in this segment, followed by 2022 and 2021.

Prior to this, the peak was in 2017.

300,001 Words and above:

The numbers in this range are comparatively limited, with 2023 having the most works surpassing 300,000 words.

Most years witnessed very few works in this extensive word count bracket, with numbers often remaining in single or low double digits.

I was also interested to find where most work stopped being completed. This is the percentage of completed works in each range.

Limitations of the Analysis:

AO3 Filtering System Limitations: The AO3 filtering system does not readily display the initial posting date of a fic. A fic could have been started several years prior to its completion but only shows up in the filtering system in the year it was last updated. This poses a significant limitation as the actual duration taken for the completion of a work might not be accurately represented.

Human Fallacy: There's always a potential for human error in manual data collection and analysis. Overlooked details, misinterpretations, or unintended biases can inadvertently influence the results.

Deletion and Date Modification of Works: Authors may delete their works or modify posting dates. This becomes significant for older works with a higher likelihood of deletions or date changes. Such actions can skew the numbers, offering a misrepresented view of the works available during a particular year.

Variability in Word Count Reporting: While categorising based on word count is useful, it's possible that authors might update or expand their works after the initial posting, leading to changes in word count categories over time.

Conclusion:

The data spanning from 2011 to 2023 shows that over the 13-year period, there has been a marked increase in both completed and uncompleted works, with the total number of works increasing more than 250-fold from 16 in 2011 to 4018 in 2023.

From 2011 to 2015, there was a notable surge in the number of completed works, culminating in 2014 with a total of 6307 works. This could potentially reflect an increased growing interest or a pivotal shift in the community or broader fandom dynamics during this period.

From 2016 to 2019, a noticeable decrease in the total works emerged, with 2019 seeing the steepest drop. This decline aligns with the onset of One Direction's hiatus. While causation cannot be conclusively established, it does provide a reasonable explanation.

Beginning in 2020, a revitalisation is evident, with figures steadily climbing and nearing their zenith by 2023. While this remains speculative, anecdotal accounts suggest that the pandemic, affording individuals more leisure for social media coupled with the growing popularity of TikTok, may have reignited interest in the fandom, steering them towards both reading and potentially writing fanfiction.

In summary, the AO3 community showcases dynamic growth, decline, and resurgence patterns over the examined period. While completed works have seen fluctuating trends, the spirit of initiation remains unwavering, as observed by the consistent number of uncompleted works.

Length of works

In 2011, the publication of longer stories (10,000 words and above) was almost non-existent. The numbers began to rise steadily, with a significant jump in longer stories from 2015 to 2017.

The number of stories with a word count between 10,000-14,999 went from 2 in 2011 to a peak of 458 in 2014. Similarly, the 15,000-19,999 range saw an increase from 0 stories in 2011 to its peak at 253 in 2015. As we progress through the word count brackets, there's a discernible growth trend, albeit with some fluctuations. For instance, the 80,000-89,999 bracket jumped from 0 stories in 2011 to a peak of 48 stories in 2023.

While there have been fluctuations in the numbers for some years, the overall trend does show growth in the publication of longer stories over the past decade.

The data shows that extremely long stories (those above 200,000 words) have always been a rarity. However, there's still a perceptible trend.

The 200,000-249,999 word count range sees the most action, with a peak of 27 stories in 2023. This is growth from the previous years 17, and then to 14, and so on. The numbers decrease as we progress to the right into the higher word counts, but occasional stories reach these impressive lengths.

The 250,000-299,999 word count range has peaked at 6, with numbers generally dropping with previous years. Higher word count ranges, such as 300,000-349,999 and 350,000-399,999, are sparser but maintain a presence.

Word counts of 450,000 and beyond are sparse, with very few recent entries.

In conclusion, while very lengthy stories remain uncommon, they exist and have seen publication in varying numbers. There's a trend towards fewer stories as the word count increases, which is expected given the monumental length of these works.

Upon examination of the data, there's a pronounced resurgence in the publication of longer narratives, particularly following a noticeable decline post-2016. The trajectory of this resurgence hints at an evolving literary landscape, with authors and perhaps readers veering towards more extensive works. Although the factors underpinning this shift remain speculative, the upward trend, especially in the realm of extended narratives, cannot be dismissed.

Monitoring developments in this sphere to ascertain whether this resurgence signifies a phase or a deeper, more sustained transformation in literary predilections will be interesting.

[firesurgeon]

Heart Pirates Week 2025

Day 5: Clione / Baking — Muffins on AO3

Day 6: Uni / Siblings — Acceptance on AO3

Better late than never? Here are the last two stories for Heart Pirates Week that were still missing. I backdated them so they at least look like they were posted in time 😂

[phantomrose96]

absolutely baffled that a skim through your AO3 only has 1 of the like, 10 fics I know you for???

Yeah my fatal character flaw is that I live and die on tumblr. Like 90% of my tumblr fics have never been transferred to Ao3.

Like... I SHOULD. But I feel weird about my options.

Like do I sit down one day and post like 100+ fics to Ao3? Holy spam Batman. Or do I commit to the effort and dedication to do like 2-3 a day for a month or two?

And so many of these fics are years and years old, and not necessarily the standard of writing I'd create today. I could backdate those fics, but as I understand it that's basically intentionally burying them. Like there's something slightly awkward about posting a fic to get 0 views and 0 comments and be like "yeah ignore that, it's a flop. so is everything else I'm backdating. My profile will be 90% flops by the time I'm done with this."

Also if I genuinely write something new & post it to Ao3, people might go "oh this is probably just cross-posted Tumblr fic #127."

Not to mention so many of my fics are one shots, I'd definitely end up with a super cluttered profile of so many one-shots to scroll through.

Many such things to consider which all do not really matter. And yet.