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5ummit · 4 months

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AO3 Ship Stats: Year In Bad Data

You may have seen this AO3 Year In Review.

It hasn’t crossed my tumblr dash but it sure is circulating on twitter with 3.5M views, 10K likes, 17K retweets and counting. Normally this would be great! I love data and charts and comparisons!

Except this data is GARBAGE and belongs in the TRASH.

I first noticed something fishy when I realized that Steve/Bucky – the 5th largest ship on AO3 by total fic count – wasn’t on this Top 100 list anywhere. I know Marvel’s popularity has fallen in recent years, but not that much. Especially considering some of the other ships that made it on the list. You mean to tell me a femslash HP ship (Mary MacDonald/Lily Potter) in which one half of the pairing was so minor I had to look up her name because she was only mentioned once in a single flashback scene beat fandom juggernaut Stucky? I call bullshit.

Now obviously jumping to conclusions based on gut instinct alone is horrible practice... but it is a good place to start. So let’s look at the actual numbers and discover why this entire dataset sits on a throne of lies.

Here are the results of filtering the Steve/Bucky tag for all works created between Jan 1, 2023 and Dec 31, 2023:

Not only would that place Steve/Bucky at #23 on this list, if the other counts are correct (hint: they're not), it’s also well above the 1520-new-work cutoff of the #100 spot. So how the fuck is it not on the list? Let’s check out the author’s FAQ to see if there’s some important factor we’re missing.

The first thing you’ll probably notice in the FAQ is that the data is being scraped from publicly available works. That means anything privated and only accessible to logged-in users isn’t counted. This is Sin #1. Already the data is inaccurate because we’re not actually counting all of the published fics, but the bots needed to do data collection on this scale can't easily scrape privated fics so I kinda get it. We’ll roll with this for now and see if it at least makes the numbers make more sense:

Nope. Logging out only reduced the total by a couple hundred. Even if one were to choose the most restrictive possible definition of "new works" and filter out all crossovers and incomplete fics, Steve/Bucky would still have a yearly total of 2,305. Yet the list claims their total is somewhere below 1,500? What the fuck is going on here?

Let’s look at another ship for comparison. This time one that’s very recent and popular enough to make it on the list so we have an actual reference value for comparison: Nick/Charlie (Heartstopper). According to the list, this ship sits at #34 this year with a total of 2630 new works. But what’s AO3 say?

Off by a hundred or so but the values are much closer at least!

If we dig further into the FAQ though we discover Sin #2 (and the most egregious): the counting method. The yearly fic counts are NOT determined by filtering for a certain time period, they’re determined by simply taking a snapshot of the total number of fics in a ship tag at the end of the year and subtracting the previous end-of-year total. For example, if you check a ship tag on Jan 1, 2023 and it has 10,000 fics and check it again on Jan 1, 2024 and it now has 12,000 fics, the difference (2,000) would be the number of "new works" on this chart.

At first glance this subtraction method might seem like a perfectly valid way to count fics, and it’s certainly the easiest way, but it can and did have major consequences to the point of making the entire dataset functionally meaningless. Why? If any older works are deleted or privated, every single one of those will be subtracted from the current year fic count. And to make the problem even worse, beginning at the end of last year there was a big scare about AI scraping fics from AO3, which caused hundreds, if not thousands, of users to lock down their fics or delete them.

The magnitude of this fuck up may not be immediately obvious so let’s look at an example to see how this works in practice.

Say we have two ships. Ship A is more than a decade old with a large fanbase. Ship B is only a couple years old but gaining traction. On Jan 1, 2023, Ship A had a catalog of 50,000 fics and ship B had 5,000. Both ships have 3,000 new works published in 2023. However, 4% of the older works in each fandom were either privated or deleted during that same time (this percentage is was just chosen to make the math easy but it’s close to reality).

Ship A: 50,000 x 4% = 2,000 removed works Ship B: 5,000 x 4% = 200 removed works

Ship A: 3,000 - 2,000 = 1,000 "new" works Ship B: 3,000 - 200 = 2,800 "new" works

This gives Ship A a net gain of 1,000 and Ship B a net gain of 2,800 despite both fandoms producing the exact same number of new works that year. And neither one of these reported counts are the actual new works count (3,000). THIS explains the drastic difference in ranking between a ship like Steve/Bucky and Nick/Charlie.

How is this a useful measure of anything? You can't draw any conclusions about the current size and popularity of a fandom based on this data.

With this system, not only is the reported "new works" count incorrect, the older, larger fandom will always be punished and it’s count disproportionately reduced simply for the sin of being an older, larger fandom. This example doesn’t even take into account that people are going to be way more likely to delete an old fic they're no longer proud of in a fandom they no longer care about than a fic that was just written, so the deletion percentage for the older fandom should theoretically be even larger in comparison.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the author of this "study" KNEW the data was tainted and chose to present it as meaningful anyway. You will only find this if you click through to the FAQ and read about the author’s methodology, something 99.99% of people will NOT do (and even those who do may not understand the true significance of this problem):

The author may try to argue their post states that the tags "which had the greatest gain in total public fanworks” are shown on the chart, which makes it not a lie, but a error on the viewer’s part in not interpreting their data correctly. This is bullshit. Their chart CLEARLY titles the fic count column “New Works” which it explicitly is NOT, by their own admission! It should be titled “Net Gain in Works” or something similar.

Even if it were correctly titled though, the general public would not understand the difference, would interpret the numbers as new works anyway (because net gain is functionally meaningless as we've just discovered), and would base conclusions on their incorrect assumptions. There’s no getting around that… other than doing the counts correctly in the first place. This would be a much larger task but I strongly believe you shouldn’t take on a project like this if you can’t do it right.

To sum up, just because someone put a lot of work into gathering data and making a nice color-coded chart, doesn’t mean the data is GOOD or VALUABLE.

#ao3 #ao3 stats #psa #my words #fandom #I doubt anyone is even going to read this but I needed to get it out of my system and at least try to stop this from spreading #if you know me #you know I get Big Mad about misinformation #don't take anything at face value #do your own research

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overallsonfrogs · 1 month

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My best friend/future housemate is reading AFTG for the first time, so here are some of their thoughts as of Ch.4 of TFC:

- “I can’t wait to meet all of the foxes so I can figure out whose trauma I relate to most

- “which one of them has psychopathic tendencies and why is it Aaron”

- “the substance abuse girlies, Andrew and Kevin”

- “Kevin is the rival boy from the rival school that Neil falls in love with, right?”

- “I think the shipping dynamic is a love triangle but like an actual triangle: Like Kevin and Neil, Andrew and Kevin, and maybe even Andew and Neil???”

- “Dan has a lot to prove so I think she must come from an environment where she was often overlooked as an individual and had to work to support her family, probably because of financial struggles”

- “How old are Wymack and Abby, like late 20s early 30s?”

- “I think Wymack isn’t a DILF, but Abby is a MILF so people project that onto him”

- *in response to Andrew’s voice in the audiobook* “ew can we have a chapter without him soon”

- *five minutes later* “wait I love Andrew and might project onto him”

- “this has to be about money laundering. Why else would there be so much money in this relatively new sport”

- “do they ever talk about how exy was created by a woman but Wymack had to fight so hard to make Dan captain?”

Will continue to give updates as they read 🫡

Edit: I’ve posted a couple other updates on their thoughts, so keep an eye out 😉

#they’re in for a wild ride #I’m trying to spoil as little as possible #but they’re an intuitive/curious English Ed major #so the literary analysis is constant #all for the game #nora sakavic #the foxhole court #kevin day #all for the gay #neil josten #andrew minyard #dan wilds #aaron minyard #aftg

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stareaterau · 2 months

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Chapter 1 episode 4

←Previous episode

Next episode→ soon

Index

---

Time for some new characters perhaps?

CW: description of pain

Read below↓

Or AO3

Etho is relieved to finally have a moment of peace from that incessant beeping. It’s been driving him insane from the moment he woke up, surrounded by heaps of twisted and mangled space debris. Impact crates sat all around him, filled in and covered with the – barely recognisable – remains of old battleships. With some smug satisfaction, he’d spotted what was left of countless Vindicator insignias. They were marked on their dented hulls and scattered supply crates, their paint scraped away over time. The beeping had been increasing steadily, as Etho traipsed across the sand-swept wreckage, reverberating around his head in a way that made him worried that he’d suddenly developed a strange form of tinnitus… not that he hadn’t already been developing it for years thanks to his constant exposure to loud machinery. But now – as he approaches the rusting wreckage of a massive spaceship that rests, standing like a beacon, nestled atop a mound of its mangled brethren, its form surprisingly intact save for the side of its hull, the once sturdy metal gored open – the silence is deafening. After having grown accustomed to the constant beeps, the absence of noise is almost overwhelming.

Etho hoists himself up and over the mangled opening in the ship, grateful that his gloves prove to be enough protection against the likely scalding metal. He breathes a sigh of relief as his heavy boots thud onto the dusty metal flooring inside the wreckage. The cooler air hitting him immediately. The insulated walls and dim metal halls of the ship create a welcome reprieve after the blazing heat of the desert outside. Etho is not dressed for this sun, since the dark fabric and fluffy interior of his jacket are more suitable for the chill of space. Maybe if he’d known that he’d find himself waking up in a strange desert, he’d have actually dressed for the occasion. He pulls his hood down, shaking the sand from his clothes, finally protected from the wind as it peppers the landscape outside with sand.

Etho stretches, his long limbs cracking. With a sigh, he looks around the room he climbed into. It looks like some kind of barrack. Uncomfortable uniform beds line the walls and old, musty bedding lays strewn about the room. He grimaces. Those blankets look scratchy as hell. Despite his initial disgust, Etho would probably be tempted to pick one of the beds and not get up for days if they weren’t also covered in sand that had blown in through the fissures in the ship's wall caused by its crash landing, years ago. He assumes it was years ago, at least, considering the rust and the sand that has made itself home in every possible corner.

He walks out into the corridor, brightened by long strips of broken lights stretching down the hall in either direction. Tangled and fraying wiring hangs down from the ceiling, the panelling that was meant to hide them likely thrown and forgotten somewhere during the ship's rough descent. A ship like this should have plenty of rooms that could prove far more useful than a dusty dorm room. If he’s lucky it may even have a stocked storage room. The ship's crew certainly wouldn’t have run out of rations before their unexpected demise.

Etho turns right, padding down the hallway, periodically peering through the occasional unlocked door as he passes by, each one leading into increasingly dark and dingy rooms.The corridor leads him deeper into the belly of the ship, further away from the blazing sun’s reach. The interiors sit dusty, undisturbed and utterly useless. Not a single one appears to contain anything of use to Etho unless he wants to try and sleep on some of the sandiest beds he’s ever seen. He just woke up not even an hour ago, sleeping right now might be a bit overkill… and not all that useful. He needs supplies, food, anything. A weapon of some sort would be nice too, he doesn’t trust this dump to be as empty and dead as it looks on the surface. A planet with breathable air like this would surely have some inhabitants, no matter how harsh the living conditions. Hell, a blaze would probably thrive in this heat. Their dense fur and high body temperature would protect them from the worst the desert has to offer.

The thumps of heavy boots against the grated metal echo down the corridor. Etho’s careful steps do little to lessen the noise as the rusted hull groans in response to his presence. His tail drags behind him, through the sand and dust that litters the hall, pale white scales and grey-tinged fur drawing lines on the ground as he roams the winding halls.

He comes up to a split in the path… or well, it’s not much of a split. The corridor that should veer off to the right comes to a quick end, its flooring having collapsed in on itself, broken pipes and tangled wires hanging down from the ceiling. The floor is caved in on itself, twisted metal sloping down into the pitch-black pit that is the lower floors. Etho cringes at the creaking sound of metal that echos out of the hole. He doesn’t want to think about the strain the weight of the crashed vessel is causing on its fractured hull. The last thing he wants is to be trapped in this hunk of junk if its supports give way.

Deciding he’d rather not risk catching himself on the jagged metal… or falling void-knows how far down the dark pit. Etho, instead, turns left and ventures down the more intact corridor. At least there’s far less sand this way. Although Etho suspects the damage has already been done, he’ll be finding those persistent grains for months. Years, even. The lights above flicker sporadically – or at least the few that managed to survive the years in one piece – combating the increasing darkness with their cold, dim fluorescence.

Etho pauses, reaching up to flick one of the long bulbs as it fades out, causing it to sputter back to life for just a moment before dying out once again. Etho realises with a start that the ship must still have a functioning power source somewhere, Etho realises. It might not have much life left in it if these half-dead lights are anything to go off, but it’s better than nothing. This ship might still have some useful parts lying around. Etho could try fashioning… something from the scraps. Something that could help him get off this dead planet, or at least send some kind of distress signal, with the hopes that someone, anyone is close enough to hear it.

He’ll take anything that might prove useful while he figures out where he is. It’s better than his current lack of possessions. He’d had nothing on him when he woke up, which, concerningly, was not how he’d been before. Etho never left home without at least a knife or two, preferably a gun too. He’s not stupid. The last thing he wants is to be cornered by some Vindicator grunt without any means of defending himself. He’d never hear the end of it.

But, for now, it’ll probably just be nice to have shelter with some shoddy lights. While sleeping under the stars doesn’t sound too unpleasant, sleeping on trash in a sandstorm definitely does.

Etho picks up his pace. He can at least assess the damage to the ship's redstone if he can find the engine room. Until he knows what supplies he’s working with he can’t properly plan his next move. The thought makes him shudder. Being stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no clue where he is, no memory of how he got here, and no plan sounds like, quite possibly, the worst combination. Hell, graveyard planets aren’t typically in inhabited solar systems…if he’s really that far from civilisation, he’s fucked. The sooner he can figure out a plan of action the better.

Rounding a corner, the corridor quickly comes to an end. Standing in front of him is exactly what he had been hoping for. Another doorway the door itself, thankfully, resting mostly open. Albeit disconnected from the track that would usually enable its closure. Beyond its frame, flickering lights illuminate a room lined with control panels and overturned chairs. Lights pulse faintly behind dusty buttons and screens and wires stretch across the floor, twisting over and tangling with one another. He’s found the cockpit.

Etho grins behind his mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes the only sliver of emotion displayed for the lonely wreck. He cracks his knuckles before making his way over to the closest control panel.

He pauses for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought and hands hovering over the rusted controls. He never actually checked if he’s truly alone in this place. Glancing around the room again shows no more signs of life than his first inspection. He hadn’t noticed footprints at any point in his journey so far. Void knows there’s enough sand everywhere for them to show up. He’s well and truly alone.

Giving in to curiosity, he cracks open the console, prying off the loose screen, exposing the guts of the ship inside. Looking through the rusty parts, he investigates the state they’re in, hoping that any of the individual parts can prove useful. Who knows, maybe he can get the engine up and running and get out of here… it doesn’t look like it though. Holding up a particularly rusted part, Etho scowls, tossing it onto the metal flooring behind him with a loud clang. He continues to rummage through the mechanisms of the ship, anything unusable – which proves to be most of it – getting tossed, carelessly to the side with a loud clunk.

“...Oh, what the heck?”

Etho jolts at the voice behind him. Dropping the rusted redstone comparator he had been holding, in surprise. Spinning on his heels, Etho’s eyes land on a figure standing in the doorway, their face scrunched up in a frustrated scowl. They look like some sort of glare-blaze hybrid, judging by the green feathers scattering the right side of their face and the brown markings that tint their brow and the tips of their ears. The tips of their fingers are coated in that same brown, the point where the markings merge back into their paler skin tone hidden behind a pair of padded fingerless gloves. Etho notes, however, the figure's distinct lack of a tail, his own flicking to the side subconsciously. They’re dressed in a cuffed t-shirt and baggy, padded trousers. A singular grey knee pad is strapped to their right leg, though how much that would help them if they fell onto their other knee Etho is not sure. Their deep, dark eyes lock onto Etho. Huge, pure-black pupils boaring into him.

“Uhhh-” Etho stares, dumbstruck at his unexpected visitor. He'd been so sure that he was alone here. The metal dunes outside had betrayed no signs of life. All the ships look like they’d crashed into the planet, their hulls cracked and bent from the impact. It’s unlikely that any of their passengers survived.

“Who the hell are you?” The glare furrows his brow further, pointing an accusatory finger towards Etho. “What are you doing to my ship?”

“...Your ship?”

The stranger scoffs, seemingly offended at the insinuation that this mangled spaceship isn’t clearly his. “Yes, my ship! I found it first!”

Etho rolls his eyes at the childish nature of the argument, there’s no way of knowing who had actually seen it first. It's not exactly hard to spot. The massive ship stands like a beacon atop the mounds of twisted metal, it could probably be seen for miles across the ship graveyard.

“I saw it the second I woke up here,” Etho counters, throwing out a bit more information than he’d usually feel comfortable with, testing the glare's response. They don’t react.

Their brows remain just as furrowed, eyes just as piercing. A couple of seconds pass before their mouth contorts into an annoyed snarl. A small scar cuts across their lip, a gap in their teeth replacing the fang that should rest just behind it… Huh.

Etho runs a hand down his mask. He hadn’t realised that the stranger isn’t wearing one, nor a helmet. The air here must be safe to breathe. He decides against removing it for now, though. Maybe they just hadn’t dropped dead yet.

“Yeah, me too! You’re not special!” The other replies, crossing his arms. Etho frowns, the two sides of his split jaw grinding together slightly, behind his mask, in thought. So they had woken up here too, he concludes. They’re probably just as in the dark as he is, lashing out due to the fear of being lost on some graveyard planet with no idea how they got here… Or maybe they’re just like this.

“...I’m the one in the cockpit though.”

“You’re tearing the cockpit apart!” The stranger complains, striding over to a broken comparator, one of the many engine components Etho had scattered across the cockpit floor. They pick it up and twirl it in their hand, glowering at the state of it. Rust rubbing off the metal, staining their fingertips a ruddy orange.

Their dark eyes turn back to Etho, scrutinising him with their gaze. A mischievous glint crosses their face. They give the engine piece one last spin in their hand, before tossing it right at Etho. Hitting him square in the shoulder, the rusted metal cracking as it clatters back onto the ground by Etho's feet. “Ow- Thanks…” he murmurs

“It’s not gonna fly anyway,” he adds, brushing away a spot of rust from where the metal had bounced off his padded jacket.

“I can make it work!”

“Can you?” Etho raises a brow, he’s sceptical anyone would be able to fix a ship in this much disrepair, especially not this guy. They look like they’re more likely to blow up a ship than they are to fix one. The only thing this wreck is good for is shelter and spare parts.

“YES!” the stranger argues, their face contorted into an offended scoff. “GET OUT! FIND YOUR OWN SHIP!”

Etho stands up from where he knelt, hunched over the control panel. He wipes his hands on his trousers, leaving a smear of oil and rust behind on the green fabric. "…Fine, ‘s nothin’ useful here anyway. It’s a rusty mess.”

That only seems to rile the glare up further. Their green feathers bristle, standing on end, and a slight puff of smoke spills from their mouth as they huff angrily.

“IT’S NOT A RUSTY MESS! IT’S MY SHIP!”

Etho, paying their outburst no mind, strides over to where the glare still stands, blocking the doorway with their broad frame. Etho tilts his head, as he looks them up and down, sizing up the shorter, angrier man. They just glare back up at him in response. He snorts.

“Mhm, sure,” Etho finally responds, a sarcastic drawl to his voice. He pushes past them, knocking the stranger out of the way with his shoulder. They stumble to the side, letting out an offended squawk as Etho heads back down the dark corridor of the ship. He smirks at their reaction. Void that guy is full of themself.

If they want this ship so bad they can have it, it's not worth fighting over.

Maybe if he’s quick, Etho can find another, mostly, intact ship to seek shelter in before the sun sets. Preferably one where he won’t have to share with some obnoxious blaze-glare hybrid.

The gash in the ship wall he had climbed through proves easy to find again, thanks to the way it tears through room after room. He picks a door and makes his way through what looks like the remains of a small botany nursery. The plants that had once grown here would’ve helped to generate for the ship's crew back when it was still being maintained, but now it sits in disrepair. Its foliage withered and dry from neglect, the glass of their terrariums shattered and scattered across the ground. The only sign of life this room has to offer now comes in the form of a tiny, sandy rat, no bigger than Etho’s palm, sitting in a dusty plant pot. Though, it seems mostly unbothered by the enderian's sudden appearance, the shrivelled stick of a plant that it's digging its teeth into is clearly more important. Beady eyes follow as he picks his way through the overturned interior, careful to avoid the sharp shards of glass, even if it’s unlikely it would be able to puncture his boot's thick soles.

He doesn’t even need to climb over the jagged metal this time, the whole exterior wall is ripped out from top to bottom. The gnarled, torn edges of the floor and remaining walls the only evidence such a wall ever existed in the first place. Instead, he lowers himself and jumps down, landing with a clatter on the scrap metal ground outside.

The sun still beats down on the metal mounds surrounding him, the old wrecks sizzling from the heat. The topography shifts and ripples behind the torrid air. Etho blinks and holds his hand up to shelter his eyes as the metallic landscape reflects the bright light at him from every direction. He had not missed this, the ship had been stuffy, but it was at least sheltered from the worst of the heat. Etho had better find another shelter soon, he decides. Especially as the sun has now dipped far lower in the sky than it was before. He’d rather not be wandering the wasteland at night, at least not until he can assess how safe this planet really is.

Etho readjusts his mask – breathing in dust cloud after dust cloud probably won’t be great for his lungs – before beginning his descent down the mound. His pace is slow and careful as the scrap below his feet shifts and dislodges from its capricious position. Each step sends small waves of metal debris scattering down the hill ahead of him. It’s not the quietest of descents, but Etho can’t bring it in himself to care. Not when he’s already met and fallen out with, who is likely, the only person for miles.

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

The whistle of wind rushing through the trash peaks almost disguises a building ringing in his ears, the constant note mostly fading out into the background when he pays it no heed. Shaking his head, Etho groans. He almost misses the beeping.

He really should look into what had caused that… as soon as he finds himself somewhere safe to settle for the night. It’s far too risky to stay out in the open with the sun rapidly sinking in the sky. Not while he doesn’t know what kinds of wildlife might call this place home, and going back to the security of that ship is clearly a no-go.

The hairs on the back of his on the back of his neck stand up as a staticky sensation dances across his skin. Etho furrows his brow. That’s just another reason to find shelter. The last thing he wants is to get caught out in a thunderstorm. But, as he glances at the vast, cloudless sky, it holds no sign of a coming storm

Etho reaches the bottom of the metal mound, luckily only almost losing his footing once or twice. The moment his boot meets the sandy ground the ringing solidifies into something real, something vicious and sharp. He stumbles. It feels like hands are reaching into the deepest parts of his soul and wrapping their hands around his heart.

With another step electricity surges through his body. Etho buckles over, every nerve set alight in white-hot pain. A hook is driven through his heart. Etho bites his tongue. The hands pull.

His vision turns white.

Then red.

Etho keels over. His mind struggles for coherency as he clutches his chest.

He rips his mask off, struggling for breath as a haze settles over the world. Thick and suffocating. Shrouding the landscape around him until all he can see is his own shaking hands and the shipwreck, looming above him, mockingly.

A desperate resolve washes over him.

He needs to get back. It hurts to breathe and he needs to get back.

The ship is safe. It’s walls and shelter and shade and it’s safe. And there is absolutely room for two. Despite that glare’s adamant claims.

They don't need all that space.

Etho found it too.

They can share.

It’s massive.

He can easily stay there without even running into them once.

And it hurts.

And he can't think.

And the world is spinning.

And he's clambering back over the gnarled ship wall. His clothes snagging on the jagged edge. The thud of his knees, connecting hard with the floor, echoing through his bones.

Relief washes over him. The strain on his heart easing slowly as he staggers back into the welcoming shade. With a huff, he slumps down in the ship's corridor as colours aside from the ruddy hue bleed back into the world.

Etho’s not sure how long he sits there, on the hard floor of the ship corridor, gathering his breath. The cool metal of the ship wall presses against his back, grounding him as his head slowly stops spinning.

But he’s not alone as he gathers his thoughts. Movement catches his eye as, across the hall, that small rat scurries into view, its dried-up twig abandoned. Beady eyes meet his own, unblinking as Etho stills, not wanting to scare the critter away. It’s nice to have some company that won’t attack him for daring to breathe the same air… hopefully.

Its pale, sandy fur stands out in stark contrast against the dark, grey colouration of the ship. He’s caught similar vermin hiding in the dark corners of his own ship before, but they had looked different. Their ears had been shorter and stubbier, their fur dull and grey to match their surroundings. Etho’s not exactly an expert on alien fauna, but if this planet is as uninhabited as it looks then the small rodent might actually be undiscovered. He watches as it slowly relaxes and begins to clean its long whiskers with its paws. It’s kind of cute. Maybe if he captures it and makes it off this forsaken planet he’ll be able to name the species. He’ll probably name it something scary. Like taxes.

Not that aiding scientific exploration should be his priority right now. He’s more likely to cook up and eat the rodent if he actually catches it. Food will probably be scarce in this desert junkyard, and Etho is awfully fond of not starving to death… besides, he’s probably eaten worse.

“You coulda leant a hand y’know.” Great, now he’s talking to a weird rat.

He drops his head back against the wall, inhaling sharply as the impact sends a jolt of pain reverberating around his, already aching, skull. Closing his eyes, he digs the palms of his hands into them. Today is going great so far. At least the beeping still hasn’t come back, hopefully, it’s gone for good now. Etho doesn’t want to imagine trying to think with both the beeping and fuzzy disorientation from whatever the hell that was, overwhelming his brain.

The only sound is the wind outside as it whistles through the cracks marring the ship's hull. It blows roughly through the rooms that are unlucky enough to share that exterior wall, creating a dull, rhythmic thrum, slowly getting louder as it echoes through the halls and – oh, that’s footsteps, Etho realises. Great.

The glare rounds the corner, dark eyes immediately landing on Etho. A scowl crosses their face. They’re clearly just as pleased to see Etho as he is to see them. Taxes scampers off, diving through a grate in the wall, at the sight of the other figure. Etho’s never wished he could follow a rodent quite as much as he does now.

“I thought you were leaving.” They plant their hands on their hips, eyes narrowing as they scowl down at Etho.

“Mm, I tried. Didn’t go so well.” Etho frowns, tearing his eyes away from the hole the rodent had vanished into.

He takes in the glare’s appearance. They look scruffier than before. Their hair is unkempt – well, more unkempt – it falls over their face in messy strands, green and brown mixing together in a muddy tangle. The green feathers scattered across their face are puffed up and dishevelled and their breathing is heavy. What had they been doing after Etho left?

“Huh? What do you mean you ‘tried’?” They ask, making quotation marks with their fingers to emphasise their point. An incredulous tone laces their voice. “Just walk away and find your own ship. It’s not hard!”

Just to complete their point, the glare strides forward in a mock impersonation of Etho’s own pace, coming to a stop in front of the enderian. They scowl down at him, not even trying to hide their distaste. If anything they’re exaggerating it. They place their hands on their hips in, what looks to be, an authoritative manner.

Etho rolls his eyes. It’s nice to know he’s stuck in this place with someone mature. “You try if you think it’s so easy.”

A childish part of Etho, that he’s not so proud of, hopes that the same thing will happen to the glare if they leave the ship. But then again, if that… sensation was indeed a product of trying to leave the wreck, instead of just a freak incident, that might mean he’s stuck with this guy. A thought that fills Etho with dread… It would be worth it to get back at them for taunting him, though.

“To… walk out the door?” They narrow their eyes, trying to figure out just what Etho’s playing at. Ethos face betrays no ulterior motives, though. Even with his mask discarded on the ground, his expressions exposed.

Etho nods. “Mhm. Bet you can’t do it.”

“Bet I can!”

That was easy… they’re way too eager to be right.

Etho pauses to think. If the beeping stopped when he reached this ship then this is clearly where it had been leading him. Etho wouldn’t be surprised if someone had put a chip of some sort in him before abandoning him in this wasteland… it wouldn’t actually be the first time. That could explain the beeping. It might even be the reason for what he just felt too. If that is the case, the glare is probably here for the same reason. Etho’s willing to bet they’ll feel the exact same thing. He’s also willing to bet that they wouldn’t believe him if he tried to tell them.

“How about this? You get the ship to yourself if you can get, mmm, 10 yards from it- the bottom of the mound. If you can’t,” He looks the glare directly in the eye, the inky voids returning an increasingly confused stare. ”It’s mine to scavenge for parts.”

They narrow their eyes, trying to parse Ethos logic. That’s not exactly a hard ask. “You’ll… leave me and this ship alone if I… walk… down a hill.”

“Mhm,” he nods.

The glare pauses. The last thing they want is their ‘beautiful’ ship torn to pieces for parts. What’s the point in finding shelter if you don’t pick the grandest option there is, damn it. This wager is objectively the stupidest thing they’ve ever heard, there’s no feasible way to actually lose it. They smirk.

“Your loss. Easiest bet I’ve ever made! Watch and learn!”

The glare turns on his heels, marching out of the hall with purpose. The sound of their footsteps echoing, loudly down the halls of the ship.

Etho relaxes slightly as the glare disappears from view. He leans back against the wall, mind still buzzing. The cool metal grounding him in place.

He waits. Anticipation slowly building.

The faint sound of metal sliding and clattering from the glare’s heavy steps meets his ears. Etho chuckles. They’re clearly not the stealthy type.

Etho’s amusement quickly dies down as a familiar tightness settles in his chest. He grimaces and steadies himself as he braces for round two as the ringing takes hold and the world falls to red.

He really hopes this isn’t going to be a recurring condition.

A distant yelp echos through the ship – shrill and startled – as the glare concedes their bet.

Etho breathes in a sharp breath as his heart tugs on its bindings. Vindication bleeding into his mind, through the gaps of his thoughts and pain.

He should leave the ship. Meet the glare on their ascent back up the shrapnel hill.

They might need help.

No.

They’ll come to him.

Etho waits. His mind slowly returning to its usual state.

He hears them before he sees them, their angry grumbles and stomps telling Etho all he needs to know about how they’re feeling.

They storm back into the corridor. Stumbling slightly as they steady themselves with a hand on the wall.

Wild eyes lock onto Etho. A fire burns deep inside, shining brightly through their pupils like a feral animal reflecting light in the night.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

Their face contorts in a furious expression, as even more smoke billows out of their mouth than earlier. Etho wonders how much he can get them to do that.

“Told you.” A smug expression crosses Etho’s face.

“TOLD M- WHA- HUH- WHAT THE HECK?” The glare splutters, more smoke spills out of their mouth with each rapid breath.

“Just walk away, it's not hard,” Etho taunts, doing a poor imitation of the other, smirking as their face scrunches up in annoyance.

“...I’m gonna kill you,” they spit, marching up to Etho, their fists balled stiffly at their sides,

“You can tr- ohHH ACK HEY!”

#stareater au #life series au #ethoslab #joel smallishbeans #boat boys #trafficblr #cw pain

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nicxl333 · 8 months

Text

JADE ABACUS— JING YUAN X READER

what happens when you use the jade abacus for the wrong purpose? (contains spoilers from the 1.3 update)

tags: 18+ content, nsfw, reader is not the trailblazer, masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (reader receiving), reader is described to have a vagina (afab), fluff, praise kink, breeding, unprotected sex

first hsr oneshot hope it’s good! (also it’s late so i haven’t proof read this very well)

word count: 2.3k

“the same is true of this jade abacus- it is a record of the luofu cloud knights’ promise to the crew of the astral express. it is also a beacon- grip it tightly, and it will send a message to the jade abacus here in my hand. no matter how astronomically distant you are, the luofu cloud knights will always come to the aid of the crew, whatever your need may be.”

after saying your goodbyes to everyone on the xianzhou, you, welt, dan heng, march 7th and stelle/caelus made your way back onto the astral express, ready to warp to penacony the next day. after conversing with himeko and bickering with pom pom you said your goodnights and turned in for the evening.

truth be told you were slightly disheartened that you’d be leaving the xianzhou, having made so many new friends.

some, more friendly than others.

while there were many very good looking individuals residing on the luofu, one particular individual caught your eye; the high and mighty general himself.

it was something about him that drew you to him, like a moth to a single flame. maybe his smug confidence, his ability to control a crowd, or his handsome looks with his piercing eyes that could make your cunt gush within seconds. who knows, it was probably all those factors combined. either way, the attraction was there and steadily growing.

as you undressed to don yourself in your nightwear, you emptied your pockets to place your clothing in the laundry. your contents contained some trinkets here and there, and the jade abacus, which you were entrusted to hold for some unknown reason. you placed the jade abacus on your bed, meaning to look at it in greater detail once you were fully clothed.

once finished you lay in your bed, picking up your phone from the side table to scroll through any missed messages. puzzling enough, the most recent message at the top was from none other than general jing yuan.

wondering what he could possibly need (considering he rarely texted) you opened the message.

“good evening y/n, i hope this message finds you well. i realised i didn’t have the chance to bid you in particular a proper farewell, my deepest apologies. in good reparational faith i would like to make it up to you with a meal the next time you’re on the ship, on me.”

fuck knows how, but knowing that he specifically had you on his mind made you honoured, and strangely enough, horny. your mind flooded with thoughts that were downright filthy of what he could do to you should you have the chance to be alone.

he would probably take his time with you, pulling orgasm after orgasm just from his fingers alone, before he would even grace you with his cock. it only took a few different conjured up scenarios for you to have your hands snaking down to pull off your shorts, your fingers immediately stuffing your cunt full, stifling a moan at the ecstasy.

overtaken by the urge to cum you plunged your fingers in and out, scissoring and curling your fingers up against that spongey spot that made you see stars. your eyes rolled back, your back arched and your voice stayed stuck in your throat, chained by your slipping rationality which warred with your spiralling composure. you could feel the heat inside your core as your fingers continued their attack, creating a resounding ‘shwick! shwick!’ which bounced off the walls. your eyes were scrunched, your mind revelling in the scene of jing yuan pounding into your sopping cunt.

you were far gone, way too far gone to notice the quiet pads of feet along your carpet, moving towards the armchair in the corner of your room which faced your bed, and your quickly dishevelling figure. the figure sat on the armchair, sinking into the soft material as he witnessed your sinful performance.

you, none the wiser, continued to guide yourself towards your high, your moans becoming more and more harder to stifle as you completely succumbed to the lust, delirious with pleasure.

“f-fuck! jing yuan, please!” whispered pleas tumbled out of your mouth, wafting in the air till they reached his ears. he parted his legs slightly to ease his oncoming erection, letting his hand prop up his head, as his elbow rested on the arm of the armchair.

you neared your peak, your fingers burning in pain as you furiously pumped to reach your end. your free hand left your mouth and gripped your tit, playing with the peaked nipple to ease the overwhelming feeling you were experiencing.

with a final call of his name, (which was slightly louder than you would’ve liked) your body jolted and shook as you reached an earth shattering orgasm. you convulsed as you came which was probably the hardest you ever had cum before, letting the aftershocks subside.

you suddenly became aware of something poking at your back. you retracted your fingers from your cunt and retrieved the item, seeing the jade abacus in your hand, having accidentally moved underneath your body during your…activities. you then recalled the words jing yuan told your group about gripping the abacus tightly, hoping and praying your recent actions had not triggered a call- still unbeknownst to the figure who had already been summoned, to your dismay.

“that was quite the show, y/n-”

you stiffened at the deep, powerful voice of jing yuan, perched in your armchair, staring at you with something distinguishable as lust.

“-however, i do recall warning that the abacus shouldn’t be used for inappropriate circumstances, no matter how amusing that circumstance may be.”

you were stunned into silence, riddled with shame and hushed with guilt. there was simply no rational explanation for this as you were half naked in front of him. and you had no knowledge of exactly what point he entered your room, therefore meaning you had no idea just how long he’d been watching, although evident that he had been in the room long enough to make himself comfortable on that damned armchair.

“cat got your tongue? seems like i’ll have to administer your punishment first.”

by this point he had risen, beginning to take off his boots and the numerous straps and harnesses that made up his uniform. he then took off his tight shirt, leaving him in his red pants, while crossing the short distance to your bed, raising your hand which was wet with arousal, lifting it to his mouth and giving your index and ring finger a long lick.

“i… uh-”

“hush. naughty minxes like you do not deserve to speak. lay back and spread your legs. i will not ask twice.”

although confused and befuddled you followed his command, not expecting events to turn out like this, not that you were complaining. he lowered his face so he was level with your dripping cunt, observing it as your cum dripped out.

you lifted your head slightly to see why he stalled, feeling a tad bit self conscious. all thoughts flew out of your head however once you felt him lick a long stripe from your cunt to your clit. you instantly mewled at the sensation, hands finding purchase in jing yuan’s hair, gripping lightly, to which he grunted at.

he rose to look at you, amber eyes boring into your own. “if you’re too loud, i’ll stop. we wouldn’t want to wake up your fellow crew now, would you?”

you shook your head vigorously, wanting anything but him to stop in this moment, knowing that this could potentially lead to you getting the fuck of your life. fat chance in hell you would cockblock yourself.

he hummed at your silence, lowering himself back down and resuming again. his tongue swirled around your clit, paying close attention to the bud. he then moved down to your pulsing hole, plunging his tongue in and out and slurping at the soaked flesh. one hand left his head and rose to your mouth to stifle any noises from leaving it. as if it weren’t enough, jing yuan let his mouth leave your cunt, his fingers immediately integrating into the mix, while his mouth moved back up to your clit, this time sucking on it. your eyes rolled back, hips grinding against his tongue to gain more of the sensation.

his fingers were thick and long, reaching further into your core than your own smaller fingers could ever hope to reach. as his assault on your slobbering cunt continued you started clenching down harder on him, signalling that you were about to cum again for the second time that night. your hips ground in circles, the heat inside you blazing hotter with each push of his fingers, the coil tightening until it could resist no longer, and snapped.

your body convulsed once more, even more so once you registered that jing yuan wasn’t letting up on his ministrations, and pulling you into a state of overstimulation.

“shit! jing yuan- oh my god!”

he groaned at the sound of your moans calling for him, using the bed sheets below him to grind against for some semblance of relief for his now raging hard-on.

once he had enough he rose once more, raising his soaked hand to your mouth.

“suck.”

you obliged, wrapping your tongue around his digits, sucking slowly while looking directly into his eyes, unaware of just how much you were affecting him.

“god you’re so sinful.” he groaned, moving his hands to his pants to unbutton them, hastily slipping them off, along with his boxers, leaving him bare, sporting a very large prominent erection. the mushroom tip was flushed with an angry pink, pre cum dripping at the tip. his length had two large main veins running down it before branching off into little tributary like veins.

you but your lip at the sheer size, hoping you could take him all. even with all the prep you had it still looked like a tight fit. he was insanely girthy with an impressive length to match.

this led to a quiet chuckle from jing yuan.

“don’t look so apprehensive, i’ll go slow.”

smug bastard.

he lifted your legs, bringing them down, down, down towards your shoulders. a mating press. your breath hitched at the realisation, knowing that he was about to fuck up your insides.

“take a deep breath, kitten.”

you took a slow inhale, feeling the tip breach your opening, pushing past and spreading your walls to all opposite ends. the stinging sensation was immediate, his dick stuffing you to the brim, more than his fingers managed to. you instantly gripped his shoulders, lifting your head to bite into his left, thus stifling a pain wrenching moan. many sensations flowed through your body, specifically pain at having never taken a size quite like jing yuan’s before. tears pricked the corners of your eyes before trailing down and staining your cheeks.

he hushed you, wiping the tears away before stroking the hair away from your face, looking at you with adoration and care, forgetting all about the ‘punishment’ he was supposed to give in that moment.

“are you okay? do you need me to pull out?”

you shook your head, lacing your fingers in his hair, and smiling softly.

“no, just give me a moment.”

he nodded, massaging your hips to help you get used to the feeling.

“you feel so good, you’re doing so well for me my treasure. i’ll take care of you soon.”

after a few minutes of adjustment, the pain faded and replaced itself with yearning and pleasure. you started grinding your hips against his, making him see the picture. he pulled out slowly till around halfway, then gently pushed back in.

you let out a small gasp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and whining, edging him to go faster.

he obliged, picking up the pace gradually until the room was filled with soft sounds of repeated ‘paps’. your lips connected with his, tongues dancing in a sloppy rhythm, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth, doing little to muffle the moans and groans entangling in your mouths.

even at such a close proximity you felt incredibly needy, needing him closer and closer to you.

noticing you lose yourself, jing yuan laced his hand in yours, against the bedsheets.

“i’m right here, my love.”

truth be told even jing yuan was struggling to keep himself composed too. your fiery nature around protecting the ones you cared for gave him a sense of familiarity with his duties as general, forever protecting the people of the xianzhou luofu. not only that though, your sense of humour and your witty remarks really captivated him during the times you had together. in his hundreds of years of living, no one caught his attention quite like you did. especially with the way you got along so nicely with yanqing. considering the fact he was practically considered as his son, seeing the two of you bond warmed his heart in ways indecipherable. so, realising that you would be leaving to travel onwards really left a gape in his life that you had just started to piece together.

he gripped your hand tighter, moving with more vigour and urgency, wanting to hold you in his arms forever.

“j-jing yuan-”

“my love?”

“i’m gonna cum-!”

“so do it, cover me with your essence, i’ve got you, always.”

his words carried you to the end and you came all over him, legs tightening against his sides, trapping him inside your cunt. his hips instantly stuttered, losing rhythm and his groans became impossibly deeper, until he eventually spilled his cum all into you, complete with each other.

all was silent for a moment, as both parties recovered from the overwhelming orgasms. jing yuan pulled out and rolled off of you, pulling you into his chest and closing his eyes.

“y/n. stay with me. just for tonight.”

#jing yuan #jing yuan x gender neutral reader #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader smut #honkai star rail #hsr jing yuan #hsr x reader #hsr smut #jing yuan star rail #jing yuan smut #jing yuan scenarios #honkai x reader #honkai star rail smut #nicxl333 #nicxl333writes #general jing yuan

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