#Device Statistics

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Good Omens

Sample Size: 56,282 stories

Source: AO3

[razzek]

Ah, for a whole two days I was below $2k in credit debt. It was awesome!

Dear sweet Petey who I love cost $275 in vet bills today. 8)

[door]

worst thing about today isn't that i am doing my annual performance review it's that i am doing my annual performance review instead of playing video game

[amrutmnm]

Detailed Market Size Forecast for Aircraft Interface Devices

The global Aircraft Interface Device (AID) Market is projected to grow from USD 167 Million in 2020 to USD 311 Million by 2025, at a CAGR of 13.2% from 2020 to 2025. The Aircraft Interface Device Industry is experiencing significant growth driven by several factors including an increasing demand for real-time aviation analytics and the growing need for situational awareness among aviation stakeholders.

As of 2020, the AID market was valued at USD 167 million. The market is expected to reach USD 311 million by 2025, reflecting a substantial CAGR of 13.2%. This growth trajectory underscores the increasing adoption of advanced avionics and the integration of innovative technologies in aircraft systems.

The market size expansion is propelled by the rising demand for real-time data analytics, which plays a critical role in enhancing operational efficiency, safety, and decision-making processes in aviation. Integrating AID technology facilitates data collection and analysis from various aircraft systems, thereby enabling better situational awareness and predictive maintenance.

The COVID-19 pandemic has had a notable impact on the global Aircraft Interface Device Market. Major players in the market, including Collins Aerospace (US), Thales SA (France), The Boeing Company (US), Astronics Corporation (US), and Elbit Systems Ltd (Israel), faced disruptions due to the pandemic. Industry experts estimate that COVID-19 could affect aircraft interface device production and services by 7-10% globally in 2020.

The pandemic led to a sudden decrease in aircraft orders and deliveries, adversely affecting the market in the short term. However, a slow recovery is expected to begin in Q1 of 2021 as the aviation industry adapts to new norms and demand begins to pick up.

Get a Deeper Understanding of the Industry by Visiting: https://www.marketsandmarkets.com/Market-Reports/aircraft-interface-device-market-241873689.html

Increase in Demand for Real-Time Aviation Analytics

Real-time aviation analytics is a significant trend driving the Aircraft Interface Device Market. The ability to utilize real-time predictive solutions is increasingly critical for creating efficient business environments with optimized operational profitability. Real-time analytics enable airlines to respond swiftly and accurately to emerging problems and opportunities, ensuring smooth operations.

The adoption of AID-enabled architectures helps generate datasets in real time, assisting airlines in optimizing operational and maintenance costs. This architecture also facilitates the prediction of component failures by comparing real-time sensor data with historical data, thereby enhancing cross-platform aviation analytics.

Example: Bombardier and GE Aviation Partnership

In 2019, Bombardier partnered with GE Aviation to upgrade the Smart Link Plus health monitoring unit for all Challenger business jets. This unit generates essential data for analytics, helping identify the health of major aircraft components, thereby supporting predictive maintenance and operational efficiency.

Certification and Regulations

The certification process for aircraft interface devices poses a significant restraint on market growth. The AID must be certified by regulatory bodies such as the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) and the International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) before installation. Compliance with stringent durability, structural design, and environmental standards is required, making the certification process lengthy and complex.

Regulatory Challenges

Variations in hardware and software can severely affect the safety of aircraft, limiting their ability to operate under adverse conditions. The cost of certification varies based on the functions implemented, further complicating market entry for new players. These regulatory challenges and certification procedures are significant barriers to market growth.

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Advanced In-Flight Entertainment Services

The potential for advanced in-flight entertainment services presents significant opportunities for the AID market. AIDs can connect electronic flight bags (EFBs) and standard avionics systems such as the flight management system (FMS), GNSS, and IRS, enabling the provision of a wide range of entertainment options to passengers.

Expanding IFEC Capabilities

In-flight entertainment and connectivity (IFEC) systems, when interfaced with AIDs, offer passengers options such as online games, chatting, calling, SMS, emails, and shopping. The growing demand for diverse entertainment options from passengers drives the expansion of the AID market.

Cybersecurity Issues

Cybersecurity is a significant challenge for the AID market, especially for wireless devices. Airlines using wireless AIDs are vulnerable to cyber-attacks, making the protection of EFB data a major concern. Managing cybersecurity risks in aviation is challenging as it involves extensive reliance on IT and avionic systems for ground and flight operations.

Example: Potential Cyber-Attacks

The aviation industry faces the risk of hackers infiltrating wireless in-flight entertainment systems and crew management systems through AIDs, potentially breaching aircraft security. This threat necessitates robust cybersecurity measures to ensure the safety and efficiency of aviation operations.

Ask for Sample Report: https://www.marketsandmarkets.com/requestsampleNew.asp?id=241873689

Optimizing Cockpit and In-Flight Entertainment Systems

The fixed-wing aircraft segment is expected to be the largest market by value, driven by the demand for replacing conventional aircraft components with advanced avionic components such as EFBs and IFEC systems. The trend towards optimizing cockpit systems and in-flight entertainment systems with AIDs is fueling market growth.

Retrofit Segment Growth

The retrofit segment is projected to witness a higher CAGR during the forecast period. Technological advancements in AID, the development of safety systems, and the increasing demand for real-time data are key factors driving the growth of advanced cockpit systems among airlines. The rise in demand for replacing older systems with advanced AIDs is propelling the retrofit segment.

Military Segment Expansion

The military segment is expected to see significant growth, covering military aircraft such as transport planes, helicopters, fighter jets, and special mission aircraft. Governments are investing in enhancing their defense capabilities, driving demand for advanced avionic systems, including AIDs, in military aircraft.

Wireless Connectivity Adoption

The wireless connectivity segment is projected to witness a higher CAGR during the forecast period. Wireless AIDs facilitate real-time data transfer between aircraft and ground maintenance, repair, and operations (MRO) engineers. The need for advanced connectivity to support real-time data transfer is driving growth in this segment.

North America Leading the Market

North America is expected to hold the largest market share during the forecast period. The region's high demand for new aircraft, driven by both commercial and defense applications, is a key factor. Leading aircraft manufacturers and major airlines headquartered in North America contribute to the region's dominant position in the AID market.

Key Market Players

The Aircraft Interface Device Market is dominated by major players such as Collins Aerospace (US), Thales SA (France), The Boeing Company (US), Astronics Corporation (US), and Elbit Systems Ltd (Israel). These companies drive market growth through innovation and strategic partnerships, enhancing their market presence and influence.

The global Aircraft Interface Device Market is poised for substantial growth, driven by technological advancements and the increasing need for real-time aviation analytics. While challenges such as certification and cybersecurity issues exist, the opportunities presented by advanced in-flight entertainment services and wireless connectivity highlight the market's potential. As the industry continues to evolve, AIDs will play a critical role in enhancing operational efficiency, safety, and passenger experience in aviation.

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[techdriveplay]

What Percentage of Internet Traffic Comes from Mobile Devices?

In today’s digital landscape, mobile devices have become integral to how we access information, connect with others, and conduct business. Understanding the proportion of internet traffic that comes from mobile devices is essential for businesses, marketers, and developers to optimize their strategies and improve user experiences. So, what percentage of internet traffic comes from mobile…

[aerospace-and-defence]

The global Aircraft Interface Device Market size is projected to grow from USD 167 million in 2020 to USD 311 million by 2025, at a Compound Annual Growth Rate (CAGR) of 13.2% from 2020 to 2025. The Aircraft Interface Device Industry is driven by various factors, such as an increase in demand for real-time aviation analytics and a growing need for situational awareness.

[sunderwight]

Shen Qingqiu gets hit by a rare wife plot.

And it actually is a rare one because Airplane didn't even write this one down! He toyed with the idea before ultimately dismissing it as being too controversial for the tastes of his readers, and adapting only a few of the same elements for a subsequent chapter of PIDW.

But apparently the System can pull inspiration even from the author's thoughts, especially when there's nothing to contradict the concept and even a few threads of it still to be found in the original, and somehow Shen Qingqiu runs afoul of this previously-unwritten plot bunny.

The core concept was a cuck scenario, of all things. One of the Luo Binghe's wives gets afflicted by a poison that can only be cured by dual cultivation, but specifically can't be cured by by dual cultivation with anyone who has mastery over demonic qi. Something something conflicting energies, something bullshit something. Peerless Cucumber would have ripped the chapter to shreds if it had actually made it to publication, not just for the insult of implying that Luo Binghe should let one of his wives sleep with someone else, but also because why would Luo Binghe -- able to use both kinds of cultivation -- somehow not be able to keep his demonic energies from influencing the situation just in this one case?

Well it turns out that in his specific case it's because sex gets him too worked up to keep things strictly separate, and the degree of control required to treat the affliction whilst dual cultivating is extensive enough that even a little slip-up would be fatal.

Of course, in the actual chapter of PIDW, this same plot device was altered and used to create a harem orgy where Luo Binghe oversaw several of his wives "treating" one another's "afflictions", but Shen Qingqiu just had to go and get a fatal of dose of the more severe version (he didn't realize the risk, because again, this version didn't even make it into the novel).

Anyway, of course this ends up with Shen Qingqiu trying to figure out another way to cheat death, while Luo Binghe goes through the five stages of grief before accepting that he's just going to have to let someone else fuck his husband. This leads to an argument because of course Shen Qingqiu's not going to cheat on Luo Binghe, and he's especially not going to force one of his martial siblings to sleep with him, come on now, and Luo Binghe trying not to cry tears of blood while bringing himself to explain that a fair few of Shen Qingqiu's sect siblings would be happy volunteers for this task.

Shen Qingqiu's just like, well of course you think that, for some bizarre reason you think everyone wants to sleep with me. Bias is what it is. Really it's flattering Binghe but obviously every other person we know is straight, that's just statistics, and everyone in the entire cultivation world knows that Qi Qingqi would sooner chew glass than have sex with a man!

Luo Binghe, weeping now: Shizun please. This is serious. I need you speak words that make sense in the order you're saying them.

They argue, they reach an impasse, the clock is ticking. So Luo Binghe reluctantly turns to the most reliable source of information (outside of himself) on Manipulating Shen Qingqiu to Do Things That Are in His Own Best Interests -- Shang Qinghua.

At first Shang Qinghua is like, well I'm flattered Junshang but I don't think I could shoulder the baggage of fucking Cucumber-bro for you. But then Luo Binghe is like no I need someone who is way hotter and more capable than you, if Shizun is going to fuck someone else at my behest they're going to be TOP TIER so that when I fuck him better afterwards he's really impressed with me. Liu Qingge, obviously.

Not Yue Qingyuan, Shang Qinghua asks? (He'd take the insult a little more personally but honestly he's just relieved that he's not being asked to navigate this social minefield.)

No, Luo Binghe says. He's not 100% sure he could beat Yue Qingyuan in a fight even to this day, which in his mind also translates to not being 100% sure he could do sex better than him either, so Yue Qingyuan is an emergency last resort. He's way more likely to cry on Shizun too and Shen Qingqiu is into that shit, it's too risky.

Alright, says Shang Qinghua, and he thinks about it, and then he comes up with the beautifully simple solution:

Luo Binghe has to fuck Liu Qingge first.

Because of course the crux of the issue is that even with permission, Shen Qingqiu doesn't want to cheat on Luo Binghe. But in the twisted annals of his mind, Luo Binghe himself is still entitled to a harem, even if Luo Binghe is also happily monogamous in this life. So if he shacks up with Liu Qingge first then Liu Qingge essentially joins Luo Binghe's harem, at which point if Shen Qingqiu sleeps with him it's not an affair, it's the gay version of those fanservice-y 3P scenes that the wives in PIDW did. Shang Qinghua translates the concept as best as he can to Luo Binghe, who -- though slightly dubious -- must accept that so far Shang Qinghua's wisdom hasn't steered him wrong with regards to his shizun's eccentricities.

Luo Binghe's mission: seduce Liu Qingge, or at least convince him to have sex, or possibly to lie and (convincingly!) tell Shen Qingqiu that they had sex. That last one is the longest shot so he's probably going to have to just fuck him (Luo Binghe still underestimates how willing his husband is to believe that just about anyone would have sex with him).

Shang Qinghua's mission: convince Shen Qingqiu that he owes his husband steamy threeway gay sex or something so that this plan he pulled out of his ass doesn't backfire and get him killed.

[knifebaby3000]

sick of financial reporting! post sketch + lines!

mattodore for @mattodore ❣️

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Good Omens

Character: Muriel

Sample Size: 14,582 stories

Source: AO3

Note: This is NOT a shipping chart.

[gf2bellamy]

I know that this is a common trope in the Spencer Reid fandom but a cliche is popular for a reason and I'd love to see your take on it please:

The BAU finding out Spencer has a girlfriend because he left something/his lunch at home whilst he was getting ready so she comes to his office to deliver it back to him ♡

file — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think a/n: hi hi thank you for your request !! also omg i rewrote this like 3 times

You set your coffee cup down. The ceramic making a sound against the kitchen counter as your breath hitched, Your gaze locked onto the object in front of you.

There it was.

Spencer’s case file.

He never shared too much about his cases—partly because of protocol, but mostly because he wanted to shield you from the horrors he faced daily.

But this one? He had mentioned this one. Briefly. Just enough for you to know it was important.

And now, he had left it here.

You exhaled through your nose, rubbing your temple as you stared at the file.

Well, this was a problem.

Your mind raced through the inevitable sequence of events: Spencer, halfway through his workday, reaching for the file. The sharp inhale as realization struck. The way his fingers would twitch slightly before running through his hair in frustration. He’d mutter something about cognitive failure rates, probably cite a study about memory lapses under stress, and then—inevitably—blame himself. He was hard on himself like that.

But, in all fairness… this was totally your fault.

Oops.

He had barely made it out the door this morning because of you.

Not that you regretted it.

You smiled to yourself, warmth flooding your chest as you remembered.

Spencer hated leaving you in bed alone. You hated being in bed alone. It was a whole thing. A silent agreement, an unspoken rule between the two of you—when morning came, you stretched those precious minutes as long as you could. And today, you had stretched them a little too long.

He had sighed against your hair, murmured something about needing to get up, but his arms hadn’t moved from around you. His body was warm and you had curled closer, pressing a lazy kiss against his collarbone.

“Five more minutes,” you had whispered, voice still thick with sleep. Spencer hummed in response, fingers tracing mindless patterns along your arm. Five minutes had turned into ten, then fifteen…

And, well. Here you were.

Thirty minutes passed. Still no text back from Spencer.

Not that it was unusual.

You had once asked him about his habit of completely ignoring his phone for hours on end, and in true Spencer fashion, he had launched into a full-blown explanation—something about the overuse of mobile devices leading to dependency, the correlation between constant notifications and increased anxiety, and the statistical probability of missing something actually important when bombarded with mundane messages throughout the day.

Point was—Spencer wasn’t glued to his phone. Which meant he likely hadn't even seen your text yet.

You chewed your lip for a moment, the decision hanging in the air.

Well, if Spencer wouldn’t come to you, then you’d go to him.

It seemed like a trip to the BAU was in order.

And if, in the process, you just happened to pick out your favorite outfit before heading out? Well, that was purely coincidental.

It wasn’t like you were nervous or anything.

Okay. Maybe just a little.

Because, despite how long you and Spencer had been together, you’d somehow never officially met his team. You had heard plenty about them—stories from Spencer scattered between sips of coffee, casual mentions of their names, the occasional anecdote about Morgan's pranks or Garcia's teasing. But meeting them in person?

That had never happened.

And if you were about to walk into the BAU for the first time, to meet all of them in one go, all while hand-delivering a file Spencer had forgotten because you’d been too busy keeping him in bed this morning…

Well. You wanted to look nice, at the very least.

So, you’d taken a little extra time to pick out an outfit. Something that felt casual but still put-together.

After a final glance in the mirror, adjusting the hem of your shirt, you grabbed the case file and headed out the door.

By the time you reached the FBI building, you were… okay. Not totally at ease, but you weren’t quite spiraling, either. A small victory, considering the nerves that had been building inside you since you’d left the house.

You checked in at the front desk, received your visitor’s pass, and found yourself standing in front of the elevator. You couldn’t help but tap your foot nervously against the tiled floor, your mind racing with the possibility of meeting everyone.

As you waited, a tall man stepped up beside you. He had dark hair, a sharp jawline, and an air of professionalism.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open. The man stepped forward, and you followed.

“What floor?” he asked, his voice calm, his eyes already on the button panel.

“The sixth,” you said.

He nodded, pressing the button. Notably, he didn’t press any other buttons, which meant he was heading to the same place.

The elevator hummed upward. You tried to stay still, but the nerves in your stomach had made their way to your foot, which began tapping again—slightly faster this time, almost involuntarily.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance down at your foot’s restless rhythm before looking ahead again, his expression still unreadable.

When the elevator doors finally slid open, you both stepped out. As you moved into the hallway, you hesitated, glancing around the space, trying to figure out where Spencer’s desk could be.

Before you could overthink it too much, you turned back toward the man, suddenly realizing you had no idea how to address him.

“Uh—excuse me, sir?” You winced inwardly at your own awkwardness. Sir? Really?

To your relief, he didn’t seem offended. He stopped and turned just slightly, offering you a neutral look, like he was patiently waiting for you to continue.

“Do you, um… know where Spencer Reid works?” you asked quickly, holding up the case file in your hand. “He forgot this at home, and I just—”

You cut yourself off, realizing you were rambling. Oh my god, you were turning into your boyfriend.

The man studied you for a moment, and you felt a wave of heat creep up your neck, suddenly worried that you’d just embarrassed yourself in front of someone important. But then, with a small nod, he answered.

“He’s in the conference room. I’ll take you.”

“Oh. Thank you!” you said, managing to sound more confident than you felt.

Without another word, he turned and began walking. You quickly fell into step behind him, eager to keep up.

As you followed him down the hallway, his words replayed in your mind. Conference room.

Wait. Didn’t that mean—

Oh. Oh no.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks just as the man ahead of you pushed open a door. He stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter, and you barely had time to collect yourself before walking into the room.

And suddenly, all eyes were on you.

Your stomach dropped.

Around the large conference table sat several people, each of them pausing whatever they were doing to look at you. Some were curious, others confused, but most were simply… staring. And then there was one person who seemed to be completely frozen in shock.

That one, of course, was your wonderful boyfriend.

Spencer Reid sat there, motionless, eyes wide, as though you’d just appeared out of nowhere. His pen was hovering mid-air and his mouth hung slightly open.

You felt your face heat up.

“Uh—hi?” you offered weakly, holding up the file like it was some sort of lifeline.

The man who had led you here—who, at this point, you were very sure was someone important—cleared his throat. His voice was as flat as ever.

“Reid,” he said, his tone unreadable. “Your file.”

Spencer blinked rapidly, snapping out of his trance.

“Right! Right, yes—um, thank you,” he stammered, his voice flustered. He stood so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor, nearly knocking over his coffee , causing you to wince in sympathy.

You stepped forward to hand him the file. The second your fingers brushed against his, you swore you saw the tips of his ears turn the faintest shade of red.

From across the room, a dark-haired woman—who you guessed had to be Emily Prentiss, judging by the barely suppressed smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth—glanced between you and Spencer, her head tilting slightly as she observed the scene.

“So,” she said casually, her voice full of mischief, “you’re the reason he was almost late this morning?”

Your face went hot, and Spencer made a noise somewhere between a cough and a strangled gasp.

Emily’s smirk deepened, and you could practically feel the attention of every single person in the room zeroing in on you and Spencer. The room was so still, you could hear a pin drop.

Even Penelope—who had been in the middle of explaining a case, hands gesturing wildly—had completely abandoned her train of thought. Her mouth dropped open in delighted shock, her eyes widening as she took in the scene.

“Oh my god, is this real?” she squealed, her voice way louder than it probably needed to be. “Reid, my little geeky nerd has a girlfriend?!” Penelope was practically vibrating with excitement. “A very cute girlfriend, I might add!” She made a big show of squinting at you through her oversized glasses. “How did we not know about this?!”

JJ raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but Derek—well, Derek looked like it was Christmas morning.

He leaned forward with an expression of pure glee. “Hold up,” he said, grinning ear-to-ear, “Reid, you got yourself a lady and didn’t tell us?”

“I-” Spencer stuttered under his breath, looking like he was actively trying to will himself invisible.

Penelope was practically bouncing on her heels now. “Not just a lady,” she chimed in again, adjusting her glasses dramatically as she looked you over with wide, sparkling eyes. “A very cute lady. Like, ‘I need to know everything about you’ cute! How did you two keep this a secret? You’ve been holding out on us!”

Rossi, who had been sitting back and watching the chaos unfold , leaned back in his chair with a half-smile. “Seems like , Dr. Reid has been keeping secrets,” he said dryly, giving Spencer a knowing look.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh at the scene around you. It was hard to stay composed when everyone was so… extra. You shifted awkwardly on your feet but it didn’t stop you from noticing how Spencer scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly wishing he could vanish into thin air.

Spencer, still very much red-faced, finally turned toward you, his expression caught between mortification and fondness. His voice was soft.

“Thank you,” he said, with a small awkward smile. “For, um… bringing me the file.”

You smiled, tilting your head, trying to suppress a grin at how adorable he looked when flustered. “Of course,” you said, your voice warm, matching his tone. “Anytime.”

Before Spencer could muster a response, you leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his cheek. The moment your lips brushed his skin, Spencer froze, his eyes going wide for a split second like he couldn’t quite comprehend what just happened.

The entire room went silent, save for the sound of a chair scraping against the floor as Penelope’s excited squeal filled the air.

Spencer remained absolutely still for a moment, blinking as if he were trying to reboot his brain. You couldn’t help but feel a tiny rush of satisfaction at how flustered he looked.

“I’ll see you at home,” you murmured, your smile widening as you pulled back. “Love you.”

You watched as Spencer’s mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was about to say something, but his words failed him completely. It wasn’t surprising—he’d never been the best at handling public displays of affection, especially when they caught him off guard like this.

"Bye everyone." Without giving him—or the rest of the team—a chance to respond, you turned on your heel and made your way toward the door.

“Did you see that?” you heard Penelope say as you left the room, her voice barely containing her excitement. “Reid, my little shy genius has a girlfriend and she just kissed him in front of us!”

JJ chuckled from across the room, her voice full of amusement. “I think Spence might need a minute,” she said dryly, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

The sound of their teasing faded as the door closed behind you, and you allowed yourself a little breath of relief, knowing that Spencer’s team was kind but very curious.

As the elevator doors closed, you found yourself grinning, already imagining how the rest of the day would unfold.

[sir3nsfi1m]

hidden chemistry / paige bueckers

You were nothing if not an honor roll student, rarely skipping classes, head buried between the earthy scented pages of those hefty textbooks, the letters mixing and merging as your eyes would caress the words, blinking harshly as if to unscramble the jumble the mixture.

You weren’t one to be noticed. Forgotten in the back of classrooms, huddled in the dark corner of the hushed library, entangled in the sheets of your familiar bed. You were enclosed in the comfort of your own little corner of the world.

It’s not like you wanted to enclose yourself, cut yourself off with the world. You just didn’t want the technicalities that was arranging a time everyday to devote yourself to every person that you care about. You weren’t rude, you were busy. Stuck between the pages of overfull textbooks with tiny scribbles in the margins, flash cards that you read so many times it almost burned a hole in your irises. You were creating history. Developing new systems everyday to answer the hardest questions the medical field can never seem to answer. Prosthetics, medical imagining systems, bioinstrumentation.

You had no time for anyone else. Not that anyone would devote any of their time to you anyways, from how unavailable you presented yourself, you would be surprised if anyone even dared a glance at you.

But then again, when you aren’t tearing your eyes from those damned pages, you will never see who’s looking your way.

Those bright blue eyes, those furrowed brows, like she’s cutting into you so deep she’s discovering a new meaning to the way you exist. The way you close yourself off, the way you barely glance up as people walk so close to you they brush against the fabric of your fleece hoodie you’ve always got one, whether hot or cold.

She hadn’t meant to notice you. Hadn’t meant to keep drifting towards you as she caressed the dust-covered shelves of the unfamiliar hushed library she barely frequented just a couple months ago.

She was light. Spotlight in the middle of the court, drawing eyes to her even thousands of miles away through electrical devices. Conversations with her name whispered across lips, statistics and pregame interviews, articles and post-game reports. People follow her, no matter where she goes.

She reveled in the spotlight, mostly. As much as she could before her palms got sweaty and her head started to shake with the pressure of millions of eyes dawning on her. She claimed her spot within her life a while ago, but after a while, it became more than just her playing the sport she loves.

It became making a whole new persona. Media training, basically telling her to hold back her emotions no matter how deep they cut wounds into her. Already drawn up answers to the repeated questions she’s asked everyday just rewritten in ways she couldn’t even understand. Criticism she has to roll off her shoulders because she’s stronger than to let someone undermine her life’s work all because she had one shitty game.

It was cliche maybe, but sitting here in the opposite side of the quiet library, a book she knew nothing about laying open to a random page as she snuck glances at you, she felt different. Like she wasn’t being seen for once. Like she had the pleasure of seeing someone else. Not her name lit up on a scoreboard, not her face plastered over the walls.

She didn’t make it creepy, of course. She never took photos, she never stared for elongated periods of time. She was gentle, as if one wrong move and you would disappear from her sights.

She didn’t know what it was about you that just drew her in. Maybe it was the mystery? The not knowing of who you are, what your name is, if you even go to school there. Maybe it was the quiet, like she was looking at a painting among a gallery that just sat out amongst the others.

Some days, she wondered what would happen if she walked up to you and asked you what your name was. Other days, she didn’t even bother showing up to the library because she knew her nerves would never let her unstick her feet from the padded carpet over to your corner.

Some days, she felt stupid pining over a girl who probably didn’t even know she existed.

Ever oblivious, you would show up at the quiet library at approximately 8:30 am almost every day if you could, other days you would camp out in your dorm, your roommates clearing out for morning classes and friend gatherings.

You prided yourself in your work, in the way that you wouldn’t let distractions tear you from your creations, how you stuck with a plan and never once backed down no matter how hard it got.

However, sometimes, you wondered what it would be like to have someone look at you and tell you they were proud of you. Or maybe even just look at you.

You would internally scoff at the pda plastered over love-stricken college kids as you walked past them, you would cringe at the corny Instagram captions with the photos of entangled lips and promises of forever.

But sometimes, you wondered what it would be like.

What it would feel like to have someone look at you. To have someone sit and listen to you drone on and on about biomedical engineering and engineering principles. To have someone see you for more than your work. To have someone say they want to be with you forever.

You were too much to handle for yourself, however, so how you someone else handle you?

Your eyes lock.

It was accidental. The first time you had looked up for your lecture that day. The second she had looked over to you just to get one last look before she decided she felt like she was being creepy and was going to put down her book (the biography of someone?) and head back to her dorm.

But your eyes locked.

Your eyes were quiet, like your aura. Like everything she had seen when she looked at you. Tranquility, silence, peace. Your eyes resembled your soul, shining brighter than any court had in the past 20 years.

Paige thought she was doomed.

Not because you had seen her, but because she never wanted to look away. She wanted to know you, wanted to see you, wanted to talk to you and never shut up.

And as if you had spoke it into the universe, someone was looking at you. Not at the wall behind you, not at the edge of the table, not at the girl giggling with her friends in the corner.

At you.

That hidden chemistry, that fading spark lingering between two souls on either side of that library, finally unraveling in a swirl of emotions.

[ozzgin]

I've kept my promise and returned with dino smut. Switch it to a dinosaur hybrid if you're too afraid of the full package. Content: gender neutral reader, NSFW (gangbang), monster dinosaur smut

"You've got to be kidding me."

You kick the wheel and walk away, trying to steady your breathing. This can’t be happening. Behind you, the guide continues to tinker with the car engine. He has a reassuring smile plastered on his face, but you can tell from the cold beads of sweat that he’s just as terrified.

You are stranded in a desert filled with dinosaurs. Scientific miracle? Sure. Presently your death sentence, too.

“Don’t walk too far from the vehicle, (Y/N), otherwise I can’t reach you in time if something happens.”

“What, you have a black belt in dinosaur fighting or something?” you scoff at the man.

“Now listen, do you think we didn’t anticipate these scenarios? I am equipped with this little guy here”, he says, pulling out a small, electric device. “Has enough juice in it to shock a T-Rex.”

Maybe he has a point. The Jurassic Park proudly dons a reputation of flawless service and guaranteed safety. Surely they must be equipped to deal with something as insignificant as a car breaking down in the middle of a guided tour.

You attempt to smile back, gathering some courage. In your newfound peace you didn’t really notice that the massive rock behind the car has moved, or that it was never a rock to begin with.

A wide row of razor teeth engulfs your official tour guide, and the enormous mandible closes with a loud snap. The upper half of the man detaches in a surreal, surgical cleanliness. You stare, mouth agape. It takes you a second to process the execution you’ve just witnessed, but the ear-shattering screech swiftly wakes you out of your trance.

Escaping from an entire pack of ancient predators feels rather futile, but that doesn't stop you from crawling up the steep hill, hoping the damned creatures can't follow. Had you known your comfortable car ride required survival skills, you would've worn a different pair of pants.

What's even more ridiculous is the nature of your perpetrator. Of course, you tell yourself, you had to trust a company that can't differentiate between the Cretaceous and the Jurassic. What's one or two million years? What's one or two dead humans in the grand statistics of their park?

You finally reach the top of the hill, and trip over some overgrown roots. Your collapse is cushioned by the scarce bushes patching the ground. Suddenly, you feel the branches vibrating against your burnt cheeks. Dear Lord, futile indeed. The heavy, bulky legs of the Carnotaurus approach you in a chaotic trample, nonchalantly stepping over your last bits of hope.

Knees scraping against the rocks, you close your eyes and shield your face, bent over like some beggar awaiting punishment. You're petrified. Did the guide feel anything when his innards stretched and tore under the unforgiving mouth?

The rough, scaly skin of the monster brushes against the back of your thighs. There it is! Flesh coming undone, bones giving in to the...wait. What are they doing, exactly? You subtly tilt your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the strange event.

It seems that your resigned position has given them different ideas. The horned beasts investigate your scent with peculiar interest. A brief altercation ensues, in which they lock their horns together and their tails swing around threateningly, nearly crushing you in their blind aggression. You cry out and try to distance yourself from the thundering scene, but a clawed foot pins you back into the ground.

You suspect your present captor is the winner of the conflict, standing above you triumphantly as the others wait aside. Is this the part where you become a grand meal? Its enormous teeth graze your clothing, and the threads come undone.

In a most unexpected turn of events, it's you who ends up stuffed. You don't know what pain to focus on: your back hurts from the rhythmic swaying, bare skin grating against the parched earth; your privacy is burning from the sudden, invasive stretch, as the creature buries itself deeper with each hungry pound.

Eventually, a familiar knot begins to form in the pit of your stomach. The thrusts become smoother, your legs weaker. Shameless moans begin to roll out of your drooling mouth, and you hold onto the Carnotaurus' rugged hips. Its mouth is slightly open, panting and groaning, blowing hot air against your already feverish body.

Your own high is interrupted by a thick, hot wave of fluid abruptly crashing against your inner walls. The beast detaches itself from you, leaving you heaving, dripping and sighing in disappointment. The least you could've gotten from this erotic absurdity was a decent orgasm.

Your naked body is suddenly shrouded in shadow. You look up to see a different member of the pack positioning itself between your legs. Glancing at the others, a horrifying, perverted thought occurs to you: they're taking turns, fucking you relentlessly.

Perhaps you will get your chance, after all. Or multiple.

[aurorasulphur]

Disclaimer: none of these answers are official, and may not work for your particular use case. If there is a specific feature that an unofficial app had that you don't know how to replicate on the AO3, let me know in the notes and we might can crowdsource a solution.

A lot of people used the Archive Reader app to access stories on Archive of Our Own, and have been upset that the app is now charging to read longer than an hour a day. AO3 (and its parent organization, the OTW) has made it extremely clear in recent days that this app is unofficial and that there *is* no official app. They encourage people to use the website.

However, there are MANY reasons you might want an app, and in a bunch of those cases, there are ways to do those things without having to provide your login information to a random person running an app. Here is a round-up of solutions to the most common reasons I've seen people give for wanting an app instead of the plain AO3 website.

These solutions are based on the following assumptions:

You know what Archive of Our Own is

You often or primarily access it through a mobile device running iOS or Android

You understand what a browser is

You understand what a browser bookmark is

You understand what a site skin is

Edits:

Edited to clarify that you must be logged in to use custom site skins

Edited to add more tips and tricks from the reblogs

Edited to add new entry about notifications/emails

Edited to add new entry about reading statistics and the tracking thereof

I need a widget on my phone's homescreen, not just a browser bookmark.

You can do this with any website, not just AO3! Instructions here: https://www.howtogeek.com/196087/how-to-add-websites-to-the-home-screen-on-any-smartphone-or-tablet/

I need Dark Mode.

AO3 has a default site skin for Dark Mode, it's just called Reversi. Find it here, or at the bottom of any page on the website. https://archiveofourown.org/skins/929/

If you'd like Dark Mode on your whole browser (and you're on Android), sorrelchestnut has advice here: https://www.tumblr.com/sorrelchestnut/737869282153775104/if-you-want-dark-mode-and-dont-want-to-mess

I need to be able to read stories when I don't have internet.

Every work on the AO3 has a download button, so you can click on that and download the story for offline reading in the ereader app of your choice. More info on how to do that is in the AO3 FAQs: https://archiveofourown.org/faq/downloading-fanworks?language_id=en#accesslater

I need to be able to change the text size of the website itself.

If you have an AO3 account (and you should!!) you can do this with a personalized site skin! There is a simple tutorial here: https://www.tumblr.com/ao3skin/667284237718798336/i-have-a-request-if-you-dont-mind-could-you

I need to be able to change the text size in downloaded stories.

My personal recommendation: Don't download in PDF format. All the other formats you can download in can scale the text size up and down, assuming you open the work in the correct app. For me, I download works in EPUB format and read them on the built-in Books app on my iPhone. I hear good things about Moon Reader on Android as well.

I need to be able to replace Y/N in fics with an actual name.

ElectricAlice has a bookmarklet for that here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34796935

I need to be able to save specific tags and not have to search them up every time.

If you have an AO3 account (which you definitely should) then you can favorite up to 20 tags which will appear on the landing page. The AO3 FAQ explains how that works: https://archiveofourown.org/faq/tags?language_id=en#favtag

I need to be able to save specific filters and be able to apply them to any tag.

Reisling's beautiful bookmarklet has you covered: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33825019

I need to be able to permanently hide certain tags.

The best option is adding this to your site skin. (Must be logged in.) Instructions here: https://www.tumblr.com/ao3css/719667033634160640/how-to-permanently-filter-out-certain-tags-on-ao3

I also hear things about the AO3 Enhancements extension (just for Android/desktop, sorry iOS folks): https://www.tumblr.com/emotionalsupportrats/686787582579851265/browser-extension-everyone-on-ao3-should-know

I need it to save my place on the page and not reload.

This is really mostly a browser error--Firefox on iOS does this to me A LOT. Your best bet is to download the work and read it in an ereader app. A lot of people also will make an ao3 bookmark and write in the notes section which part they were at, but that assumes you aren't falling asleep while reading. (Which is the main reason I have this issue, lol.) For more info on bookmarks, see the FAQ: https://archiveofourown.org/faq/bookmarks?language_id=en#whatisbookmark

I need it to keep track of which stories I've already read/opened/kudos'd.

If you have an account (which you should) then the "My History" page keeps track of every fic you've ever clicked on. No, it isn't searchable or sortable, but it does exist. For fics you've kudos'd, I have yet to find a solution for iOS. For desktop or Android, you can use this excellent userscript: https://greasyfork.org/en/scripts/5835-ao3-kudosed-and-seen-history

@the-sleepy-archivist and @inkandarsenic have a solution for iOS here to use userscripts: https://www.tumblr.com/the-sleepy-archivist/737895174683885568/this-is-a-great-guide-one-thing-i-can-help-with and https://www.tumblr.com/inkandarsenic/737827438571192320/the-user-scripts-will-also-work-on-ios-there-are

I need an app because the website's search is terrible.

(I genuinely don't understand this one but I have seen it multiple times so on the list it goes!!) The search bar at the top of the screen is a keyword search. If you'd rather search within a specific field (like title or tag) then you'll want to click on the word "search" at the top of the screen and select Work Search or Tag Search. To search users, use People Search. To search Bookmarks, use Bookmark Search. (If this is you, please tell me what the heck you mean by "search is bad" and how an app helped with this.)

I need to be able to sort stories by date posted/number of bookmarks/alphabetical/etc.

You can do this using the filters sidebar. Pick a tag you want to filter on (like a fandom, character, or relationship) and then click on the "Filters" button. The sidebar will pop out and you can sort and filter on a boggling array of specifics. A good filtering guide: https://www.tumblr.com/saurons-pr-department/718665516093472768/if-there-is-something-you-dont-want-to-see-in

I need to be able to mark stories to read later.

AO3 has this feature built in! If you have an account (which you should) there is a "Mark for Later" option on every work.

Edit: Thispersonishuman reminded me that History and Mark For Later can be disabled, so if you're not seeing the Mark for Later option, check your settings.

I need to be able to listen to stories using text-to-speech.

Microsoft Edge web browser has a built in text to speech function. Supposedly it works on both iOS and Android, but I have not personally tested that. iOS also has a native accessibility feature in settings for text to speech that will work on the Books app, so I assume Android has a similar functionality. A bunch of people in the reblogs have more in-depth Android recommendations here: https://www.tumblr.com/protect-namine/737957194510794752/seconding-voice-aloud-on-android-for-tts-my, https://www.tumblr.com/smallercommand/737884523093704704/i-use-voice-for-tts-on-android-its-got-some, and https://www.tumblr.com/doitninetimes/737869463749263360/for-text-to-speech-on-android-you-can-also-check

I need to have in-app notifications for updates/I can't ever find story updates in among the rest of my emails/checking my email stresses me out.

Set up a separate email address using a free service like gmail, and use that email address JUST for AO3. Then the only emails in that inbox will be your story updates. I use Apple's Mail application for all my inboxes, but it's very easy to use the Gmail app instead, and you could log in to JUST the ao3 email and set it to notify for every email.

(Also as a general PSA: don't use your work, school, or military email as your AO3 email. Just don't.)

I want statistics like how many hours I spent reading, how many words I read, what my most read tags were, stuff like that.

So we've finally hit something that isn't easy and that requires a hell of a lot of manual work. Short version: AO3 does not track this data because they don't want to. (Mostly due to privacy concerns.) The lack of this tracking is a feature, not a bug. You can crunch these numbers yourself, but it will take a hell of a lot more effort, and it's something I personally found is not worth the effort the couple of times I have tried to crunch those numbers. If you are willing to download your history to an actual computer (not a tablet or chromebook) using Calibre, you can get a rough idea of your most popular tags via their tag browser, but it won't play nice with typos synned to a Common Tag (Canonical Tag/filterable tag) like ao3 does. (If anyone has used an app that gave you stats on this, please let me know in reblogs/replies/via ask how that worked because I am very curious.)

I need an app because <other reason>.

The AO3 Unofficial Browser Tools FAQ might cover your use case: https://archiveofourown.org/faq/unofficial-browser-tools?language_id=en If not, give a shout and we'll see what other tumblr users suggest!

[dragongirlsnout]

*wiggles my ass at you* so yeah, metal-oxide varistors pretty much outperform silicone avalanche diodes in every important surge protection characteristic. SADs technically have a faster response time, on the order of single-digit picoseconds, but that's a misleading statistic because transient voltage surges typically take around 8-20 milliseconds to spike so that increased speed isn't really necessary! SADs also crowbar, or interrupt the load, whereas MOVs maintain a constant supply *seductively sliding my paws down my hips* oh yeah, why spec TVSS units for 250kAIC when most transient surge events peak at below 10kA? well, it actually increases the service life of the device! most well-built units can survive about 25 years of regular surges *squishing my boobs together* yeah, 400V sounds like a lot of let-through voltage, but that's coming from a suppressed 20kV C3 impulse! it's also for the primary and branch units individually, using them in series can reduce it to as little to a 60-70V surge for a 208V line-line circuit

[abbotjack]

warning : spoilers for materialists, mentions of SA

The Materialists made me feel sick. Not because it was brutal, but because it was so pleased with itself. Because it inserted sexual assault into a story and called it honesty. Because it took one of the most common, devastating violences women endure and treated it like a stylistic device. Something to add gravity. Something to sharpen Lucy’s arc. Something to balance the tonal ledger.

But the camera doesn’t stay with Sophie. The film doesn’t sit with her. It doesn’t honor her. It doesn’t even keep her in the room.

Instead, it sweeps her under the rug. Lets her scream offscreen. Refocuses its gaze on Lucy’s existential unraveling, as if Sophie’s assault were just a detour. A single, dark tile in the mosaic of someone else’s story.

And this, this is the part where I become “difficult.” The one who ruins the vibe. The one who stands in the lobby after the credits roll—not charmed, not impressed, but angry. Not because I misunderstood the message, but because I understood exactly what it did.

Sophie is not a character in this film. She is a device. A hinge. A pivot point in another woman’s narrative. She is allowed to scream once, cry once, accuse once, and then she is folded into the margins of Lucy’s development like a crumpled receipt at the bottom of a designer bag.

And I am tired—so tired—of watching women make films about women, only to find that they, too, have learned to replicate harm in the language of symbolism. Still finding a way to include sexual assault and call it nuance. Still using violence against women to prove the film has something to say.

The film says it wants to interrogate love. Modern dating. Transaction. Commodification. And yet, the moment it gestures toward sexual assault, perhaps the most violent transaction of all, it refuses to slow down. Refuses to linger. Refuses to look at the wound it’s created. It moves forward like it’s made a point. Like it’s said something brave.

But that’s the lie. That’s the wound that doesn’t close.

Because it didn’t have to be there.

It wasn’t built toward. It wasn’t unpacked or allowed to shift the narrative. It didn’t complicate Lucy’s values. It didn’t challenge the structure. It didn’t change anything.

It happened. It hurt. And then it vanished, like a whispered statistic. One in three. And if it’s so common, why frame it like a twist? If it’s so honest, why not sit with it?

I am exhausted by this kind of cinema, the kind that pats itself on the back for including trauma, but never dares to show what it costs. That uses assault not as a rupture, but as a rhythm. As a beat. As evidence that the film is serious.

But it isn’t serious. The brave thing, the truly difficult thing, would have been to stay with Sophie. To give her more space, not just to suffer, but to exist. Not just as an idea or a burden for Lucy to feel guilty about, but as a woman. As a person who was hurt in a way that does not resolve on cue.

But that would have complicated the arc. That would have meant disrupting the aesthetic. That would have meant stepping outside the dress and the lighting and the curated sadness. And cinema hates when women’s pain disrupts the aesthetic.

I know what the defenders will say: it’s not glorifying it, it’s reflecting it! But reflection without care is not art. It’s replication. And replication, without critique, is complicity.

You cannot say sexual assault is part of dating culture and then treat it like background noise. You cannot claim to care about the “brutal honesty” of modern romance while reducing a woman’s assault to a plot beat designed to deepen someone else’s arc.

It’s not brave to include it. It’s not radical. It’s not thoughtful to throw it in and then move on. It’s cowardly. It’s insulting. It’s violent.

And the fact that so many critics call this bold, that they nod solemnly and say “finally, someone’s telling the truth”, only makes me angrier. Because we’ve always told the truth. Women have been telling it for decades. In essays. In whispers. In voicemails. In buried tweets. In hospital reports that no one reads.

But it never counts unless it’s curated. Unless it’s stylish. Unless it’s packaged as prestige. Unless it’s part of a clever genre subversion from a director with Oscar buzz.

Sophie’s assault didn’t challenge anything. It upheld everything.

It was a narrative performance of harm, a stylish nod to the suffering we’re expected to endure quietly. And I will not be grateful for that. I will not call it honest. I will not applaud the inclusion of trauma that serves no one but the film’s own self-satisfaction. In Materialists, assault isn’t the rupture. It’s the justification. The sacrifice required to give the film emotional weight. It’s the shadow cast on a carefully arranged frame so the director can murmur, “See? I’m paying attention.”

But I want to say this:

Paying attention means not using us.

Paying attention means not discarding us.

Paying attention means knowing the difference between representation and reproduction.

And this film reproduces harm. Elegantly. Quietly. Beautifully. But harm, nonetheless.

It tells me Sophie matters because she got hurt, but only until Lucy learns something from it. It tells me assault is part of the system, but not worth lingering in. It tells me one in three is enough to include, but not enough to center.

And that is what I cannot forgive: the idea that trauma must be seen, but never felt. Referenced, but never grieved. Aestheticized, but never honored.

I’m not asking for purity. I’m not asking for silence. I’m asking for accountability. For films that don’t use our wounds as wallpaper. For stories that don’t treat a woman’s pain like it’s just another step in someone else’s plot. I’m asking that if you include our pain, you let us stay in the room.

But Sophie is not allowed to stay. She is written out.

And Lucy gets a ring.

If telling the truth about dating means re-traumatizing women in increasingly aesthetic ways, then perhaps the truth isn’t the goal at all. Perhaps it’s still the same thing it’s always been:

Critical praise.

Aesthetics dressed up as daring.

A film that wears trauma like silk.

A director who says, “I had no choice,” when in fact, she did.

She chose this.

And I choose to say: it didn’t make the film better.

It made it cruel.

And if I sound angry, it’s because I am. If I sound repetitive, it’s because the movies are. If I sound like I’ve ruined the vibe, it’s because the vibe was built on silence.

I don’t care how clever the final shot was. I don’t care how well Dakota Johnson wears the dress. I don’t care that it was based on a statistic.

I care that you turned that statistic into a subplot and called it cinema. I care that you built the scaffolding of your film on another woman’s pain, and never looked back. I care that you didn’t have to include it, but you did. And you called that choice necessary.

It wasn’t.

It was violence.

And I will not thank you for it.

[anistarrose]

Imagine, for a moment, that your internet just stopped loading images one day. Your dash might look pretty different (and less usable), but at least you can still make posts — whether about your internet situation, or about completely unrelated topics.

Now, imagine that one or more of your posts blew up, to the tune of hundreds if not thousands of notes. Imagine people started adding images to your posts.

Imagine your post circulating almost entirely in the form with four or five images attached, and with everyone in the notes laughing about those images — except you, who started the post in the first place, who can't even see those images because you're trapped in Tumblr's loading gradient hellscape.

You're excluded from any further conversations on your own post, because someone added a mystery image with the caption "don't leave this in the tags," but you have no idea which set of tags it is, and can't tell if it's one of the good takes from the tags or one of the horrible takes from the tags. You're excluded from the Tumblr users playing with JPEGs like dolls. You can try to guess the contents of the images based on people's reactions, but it's hard. And no one adding images even seems to notice the irony.

This is, of course, a real problem plaguing Tumblr users with regularly slow internet. And it's also a huge, insidious problem plaguing blind and low vision people who rely on either screen readers, or image descriptions in combination with enlarged text on their device.

People with disabilities around comprehending images, people who have images (or gifs) disabled due to photosensitivity, and many others are also affected.

If you add an image to a post without either alt text, an in-post image description, or even both for maximal inclusivity, you don't know if OP — or the person whose tags you're peer reviewing, or whose reply you're screenshotting — will actually be able to see it. From their perspective, you might just be shoving a mystery rectangle in their face, expecting them to be able to guess — or responding to them without them being able to know.

Imagine being on the receiving end of that expectation constantly. Imagine how isolating that must feel.

We need, collectively, to stop making assumptions that everyone we interact with online will be able to access, physically see, and mentally process images. The assumption that disabled people are vanishingly rare and statistically shouldn't really need to be considered is an assumption of structural and/or implicit ableism.

Write image descriptions. Write image descriptions for every image you post, if you're able — but if you have limited energy, or you're still learning, you should at least start trying your absolute best to describe images you add to other people's posts. If you're starting a conversation, even an online conversation, you should make your best effort to be accessible.

So: Write IDs, especially if they're as simple as just text, like screenshotted tags (link to guide). Write IDs even if you think the best ID you can write is too short, or too incomplete (link to post explaining why even "bad" IDs help).

Write IDs in general (link to a huge compilation of guides). Challenge ableist assumptions and inaccessibility.