#slowly uploading older sketches that still hold up

[brbuttons]

DID introjects, not fanart ▸ reblogs are fine

A slow-dance to Sinatra, drawn by our system's Sinclair a long time ago. Appreciation to his 'Tiny Wife', and a caption written by Alma herself.

[dragonseattofu]

Spaces Between My Fingers (NEO TWEWY fanfiction)

Summary: Neshiki NEO reunion. NEO TWEWY spoilers. Everyday for two years after Neku’s disappearance, Shiki sits behind Hachiko talking to what looks like herself, her hand securely in another that she can feel but can’t see. Warnings for depression and panic attacks. Check source content for Ao3 link.

Preview:

“Great work on the presentation Misaki-san!”

“Excellent job as always Misaki-san! Have a wonderful evening!”

“See you tomorrow!”

Shiki smiled and nodded at the outpouring of compliments from her staff as they filed out of the conference room. It was her last meeting of the day, and she was exhausted. Never in a million years could she have imagined being the youngest CEO of any clothing company, much less her own brand at the age of eighteen. But, being young didn’t make the responsibilities of a trending brand owner any less tiring. On the bright side, the remainder of the evening was all hers to spend at her own pace.

With that in mind, Shiki gathered her laptop and papers under her arm, turned off the lights and closed the door behind her. She retrieved her messenger bag from the coat rack in her office, pulled the keys from the front pocket, and said a habitual goodnight into the empty space before locking the office for the night.

The soft tapping of rubber on carpet filled the empty hallway on her way to the elevator, the sounds of mindess instrumental music soothed her tired nerves on her voyage down from the eight floor. Slow clicking of gears moving, and the opening the heavy metal doors woke her from her stupor, gesturing light apologies on her way out as more bodies piled into the elevator.

Fresh air filled her lungs as she finally reached the ground level, going westward toward the neighborhood coffee shop where she’s a regular, and the barista started mixing her drink before she could even fish out her wallet. Condensation on the side of the plastic cup collected at her fingertips, leaving a wet smudge on the door as she exited, her sneakered shoes guiding her in the direction of a statue, faithfully waiting for his master that will never come.

Shiki takes a seat behind Hachiko, and looks down at her watch. 19:01. She chuckles, she’s a minute late. She pops an earbud in her ear, and rests her right hand, palm up, on the side of the seat next to her, and waits. She takes another sip of her drink, licking her lips, savoring the overly sweet beverage on the verge of crystallization.

A couple walks by talking about dinner plans, and a group of female students discussing Prince’s recent social media posts pass by as well. A shiba stops in front of her, tilting its head to the side for a brief moment, almost as if he sees something that others can’t, before his owner tugs him along.

Her breath catches and she waits for a split second before she feels a slight shift in the wind around her, an even lighter pressure on her palm. She exhaled, relishing the feel of the spaces between her fingers filling, and she smiled.

“So, I had another productive meeting today....”

She speaks for about an hour into the wind about how her day went, what her last conversation with Eri was like, even about her new not inanimate pet, Mrs. Mew. From afar, most people think she’s talking to herself, those closer assume she’s on the phone. Little do they know that they are both wrong, but that hasn’t stopped her from coming to Hachiko everyday, and speaking into the void as if she’s carrying on a conversation with a long lost friend.

She’s not exactly sure when she started doing this, but it became her way of, well, grieving. After a couple months of blissful dating, getting to know one another outside the confines of a death game, she had sort of … fallen in love.

Only for that love to be suddenly ripped from her with nothing left but a note, from a not so helpful composer. The first couple of days were devastating, she didn’t leave her bed, she wouldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. The weeks thereafter weren’t much better. Eri, and Rhyme were constantly by her side, making sure she didn’t end up in the hospital for malnuritionment. Beat showed up soon after to smack some sense into her, mostly figuratively.

Beat slammed open her bedroom door, Eri and Rhyme trailing behind yelling at him to calm down. His usual sympathetic expression was replaced with one of impatience and frustration.

“Shiki, enough of this. Get up and go eat somethin’!”

An empty gaze was his only response. He growled, stomping into her room and ripped open the curtains, beams of sunlight showering her floor, her bed, her listless face. In the light he could see that she lost a significant amount of weight in such a short period of time. She was already lean before, now her face began to look sunken in from the starvation and constant darkness. Beat suddenly felt another overwhelming wave of emotion sweep over him.

“This is ridiculous, girl, ya can’t keep goin’ like this or you’ll…” He choked up; he didn’t complete his thought; he just couldn’t. Rhyme and Eri lunged forward to try and hold back the blonde as he grabbed Shiki by the front of her shirt, pulling their faces closer, glaring at her with an intensity he didn’t think he would ever use on her.

Her world shook as droplets fell onto Shiki’s glasses. She could feel Beat shaking from his grasp, his usually clear cerulean eyes were stormy, almost like the sky had broken. A lump formed in her throat. She forgot through her heartbreak that other people might also feel the same pain she was feeling. Sure, she was his first partner, but Beat was also his partner too.

For a tense moment nobody moved, Beat stared into Shiki’s eyes hoping to get his message across wordlessly, Eri and Rhyme holding onto Beat on both sides to restrain him. She had every right to grieve and her pain was more than he could ever imagine, but Beat needed her to know that she wasn’t alone, and that he was there for her, if she would let him. He couldn’t afford to lose her before he got the chance to save him.

Ever so slowly, Shiki moved her one hand over Beat’s. She grabbed a fistful of his jersey in her other hand. For that excruciating week, she went from feeling anxious and depressed to just numb. Now she felt relieved that there was someone else who understood this persistent gnawing ache in her chest. Brotherly simpleton Beat wasn’t being sympathetic to her heartache, but rather empathetic in her mourning.

Her face started to prickle, as the wells that had dried up started to free fall again. She moved to grab Beat, nestling her head into his chest and just … cried. He rested his large hand on her head and hugged her tightly, supporting each other in this moment of catharsis. They stayed like that until Shiki passed out again.

When she came too, Beat, Eri and Rhyme stayed with her that day to make sure she consumed something.

Sometime in the afternoon, Eri decided to attack Beat to get some measurements for a pants design. Big muscular Beat hiding behind tiny Rhyme who was doing little to nothing to protect her older brother from the teen designer wielding a measuring tape going too close for comfort to his ... particular body parts. Shiki graced them all with a smile none of them saw in days.

Big brother Beat decided to have all his meals with her that day forward. Eri said that she could handle this, and found him to be a nuisance, but he didn’t care. Slowly Shiki’s appetite and strength returned, more places ventured outward, even the whirling of her bobbins clicking could be heard throughout the house.

Everytime she had a relapse, a brief moment of chest-tightening, her breath catching, she’d reach out and Beat would be there, embracing her until the panic attack subsided.

With her good days and her bad days, Shiki decided to go back to school after taking a month of absence. Eri got her back into the sewing club, pelting her with designs to keep her busy. The distraction was helpful, almost becoming necessary.

Sometimes she’d go to the skate park, sitting on the bench watching Beat and Rhyme do ollies in front of a setting sun. She would sketch out pieces inspired by the skaters, a little black cat signature adorning each one. Rhyme uploaded some of her designs and completed outfits on a popular social media platform, and named it Gatto Nero with her permission. Sooner than later, Shiki had a following of over one thousand, then five, then over ten approaching twenty. It also helped that her best friend was an influencer and modeled everything Shiki made.

Before anyone knew it, Shiki was approached by the founder of Jupiter of the Monkey, who was impressed by her work, and offered her an intern position while she was still in school. With more tasks to keep her busy, everyday slipped by faster and faster, and the relapses became more infrequent.

A year had passed since his disappearance, and Shiki never really forgot, more so distracted herself with other things to keep her busy on a day like today. After classes, Shiki would go to her internship to work on a couple of assignments and with her last meeting with her supervisor over, she headed out to catch the train home.

She slowed her pace down when she passed the 104 building, mindlessly loitering near the window displays to check out the trends. The Scramble Crossing was busy as usual, and she found herself wandering closer and closer to the statue of Hachiko.

Shiki stared at the bronze canine, her mind drifting to the promise she made quite a long time ago. Realizing she wasn’t in a rush to go home anyway, she took a seat behind the statue.

“Well Neku,” she hesitated, having not uttered his name in almost a year, “it looks like I didn’t keep my promise to be here everyday waiting for you to come back.”

“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.” She could feel her anxiety bubble in her throat, like digging at a wound that had scabbed over and was threatening to bleed out again. Thinking of him was painful, but she realized then that they did have a lot of memories, wonderful, happy memories that she had forgotten in her grief. Memories that were hers to hold onto for as long as she wanted them. Shiki could feel her heartbeat slowing down, the tension in her body subsiding ever so slightly.

“I hope that you’re alright somewhere out there,” she said into the open space in front of her, “I-I miss you.”

Just then a slight touch graced her hands on her lap, but when she looked up, no one was there. The ticking of the crosswalk signs, the pattering of shoes on asphalt, and the shouts of last minute sales continued on as if time and sound hadn’t stopped for a moment. Not exactly sure what she was doing, Shiki raised her hand out in front of her, and a second later, she felt a resistance, an air of familiarity filling the spaces between her fingers effortlessly.

Shiki jumped up in surprise, her bag holding Mr. Mew clattering to the floor before whispering, “...Neku?”

An invisible thumb tapped the back of her hand lightly. She couldn’t hear him, she couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. He was probably in the UG, but for some reason, she could tell he was standing right in front of her.

She sobbed, “Is that really you ---?”

“Shiki! Why ya cryin’? What happened, yo?”

The connection was lost as Beat skated up to her, visibly concerned, looking for some clue as to why his best friend was crying in public. He pulled out a crumpled cloth handkerchief from his back pocket, a gift from Rhyme that came in handy more times than he thought it would.

Shiki continued to stare at the open space, trying to make sense of what had just happened, grasping for what she thought was remnants of a lost love, but the sensation was gone. Whatever was there, it wasn’t there anymore. Even if he was in the game, she shouldn’t have been able to touch anything in the UG. Her mind raced with different jumbled thoughts. What was that? How did that happen? Why now?

“Earth to Shiki!” Beat waved his hand in front of her, successfully snapping her out of her trance.

She looked at him, accepted the handkerchief and dried her tears. Whatever that was, talking about it would only land her another session at the doctor's office. She knew Beat would believe her, but after her long painful year of recovery that he had witnessed, she doubted he would be open to the thought of dredging that wound up again.

Shiki didn’t trust her words, so instead she reached over and hugged him. Without hesitation, Beat returned the gesture. When her sobs had subsided, he gently asked, “let’s bounce?”

In an overprotective brotherly way, he kept his arm around her shoulders after retrieving her bag from the floor.

“Yeah.”

The next morning, Shiki found the day dragging on. She was on autopilot at school, and her assignments at her internship were more clerical in nature, requiring very little brain power. Anything not immediately due would be tomorrow’s problem.

She rushed out of the office building, crossed the scramble and stopped in front of the metal statue. Shiki held her breath as she sat down exactly where she was yesterday. Her muscles tensed as she inhaled deeply.

“So I might be losing my mind, and everyone will think I’m crazy but if you are here, if-if you’re really still here, I’d want you to know that … I miss you Neku.”

For an agonising moment, nothing happened. She wasn’t really sure what she was hoping for. Was everything yesterday just her imagination? Was she just feeling sentimental and willed the tactile sensation into reality?

After a couple more minutes of fruitless imagination, Shiki was about to give up and leave when she felt something, no, someone, grab her hand. Frightened at the sudden contact, Shiki looked down to see that nothing was there, just the fortune lines on her open palm and her silver pinky ring. Yet someone was there, holding her hand in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. She smiled as her eyes began to water.

“It’s you isn’t it.” She said more confidently, though she felt nothing of the sort. A light tap on the back of her hand was her only affirmation.

“I have so many questions for you, but I’ll save them for when you get back. The only one I need to ask is w-will you be back?” She tentatively prodded the air metaphorically, hoping she hadn’t pressed her luck. Another light tap had her smiling once more.

“Beat’s going to kill you if you ever make it out of the UG. Rhyme’s not going to stop him. Eri hates your guts for leaving me.” She chuckled at that. She felt her hand move slightly, almost as if he sat down next to her. He brushed his unseen thumb over her knuckles.

A couple of people passing by looked at Shiki as if she wasn’t having a completely one sided conversation with herself in broad daylight. She honestly couldn’t care less. She rambled on about random things, hoping to catch him up on the entire year he had missed, only the good things because she wasn’t quite ready to talk about the bad ones. She would have continued well into the night if her phone hadn’t rang.

“Girl, why you don pick up ya phone? I’ve been tryin’ to reach ya for hours!” Beat shouted so loudly into her phone she had to remove it from her ear.

“Shiki, where are you?” the smaller girl gently inquired, seemingly having pulled her brother’s phone away from him before he crushed it, “he was about to call the police if you didn’t pick up.”

She could still feel their hands interlocked, but reluctantly replied, “I’m at Hachiko, Rhyme. Tell Beat I’ll text when I leave and get home.”

“Beat wait -- , nevermind he just left. We’ll come pick you up. Just stay there. See you soon!” The phone line clicked.

Shiki sighed, “Beat and Rhyme are coming to get me. It won’t be long before they show up.” She paused, wondering if she could ask what has been on her mind, if the fates were on her side today.

“I’ll promise to be here, everyday, waiting for you to get back to the RG. Until then, can you promise to meet me here, everyday, until I can see you again?” She knew this went against the rules of the game, but the game had dictated her happiness for long enough. If there was any chance of being with him, invisible or otherwise, she would take it.

Her hand moved again, this time their fingers separated, but not completely. His pinky finger wrapped around her silver ring, the same one she wore during the first game, and a new promise was made as they gently shook on it.

And then he was gone. Her hand tingled from the absence of his light touch. She thought she could see faint sparkles from where she presumed he had been sitting. When the Bito siblings found her shortly after, her dazed expression had them both worried, but then a genuine smile broke out on her face as she proposed they go have a light dinner before heading home. Rhyme and Beat looked at each other, communicating through their eyes that they had no idea what had happened, but were glad Shiki’s original spark had finally showed up all the same.

That had been two years ago, and everyday of those two years Shiki spent pretending to talk to someone on the phone instead of an apparition. Everyday for two years of updating his shadow on her daily life routine and not being able to ask him how his day went. This arrangement wasn’t perfect, but just knowing that he was alive, even if they were on separate planes, meant that there was hope she would see him again. Even as the weeks went to months, and months went to years, everyday, he would faithfully show up, and they would hold hands just to exist together behind the symbol of loyalty and patience.

“Tomorrow’s my big collaboration presentation to the executives of Jupiter. Eri and Rhyme are going to be there. We could honestly all use the distraction after what happened with Beat. Please look out for him in the UG? Times like this I really wonder what’s going on with the game now and how many people I have to lose to it before it’s satisfied…”

About two weeks ago, Beat magically disappeared. Shiki was going to his classroom to invite him to lunch with her and Eri when she saw a student in his class hand Beat a pin of some sort. They were trending for a while now, but they reminded Shiki too much of the game to want one for herself. Trauma, bad luck, she wasn’t really sure, but she wanted no part in it.

When the student handed it to Beat though, he vanished into thin air. She dropped her bento and unceremoniously ran into the classroom. Shiki demanded what just happened, when Beat’s classmate just looked at her, his eyes dilated for a second, returned back to normal, and looked surprised. She again pressed on for an answer, to which the student had no idea who or what she was talking about.

It was almost as if Beat’s entire existence was … erased. When she realized that she wasn’t getting anywhere, she ran to the first year classrooms and shouted for Rhyme. Shiki couldn’t imagine why this was happening again. She finally was able to talk to Neku again and now her pseudo brother, Beat, was missing.

Despite the inner turmoil she was feeling, Shiki had enough sense that day to ask Neku if he’d seen or heard from Beat. It was difficult to communicate when the only responses she got were taps on her hand but she managed to find out that Beat was indeed in the UG, even if Neku hadn’t seen him personally yet. Rhyme had a look in her eyes, almost as if she was looking beyond the plane of the RG and was preparing her next move. Rhyme said not to worry, she was going to track down her brother down one way or another.

For the past two weeks, Shiki had a few depressive relapses. Even though she had her coping mechanisms, her rock was gone. Rhyme was working on her military grade computer system to find Beat in the UG, and Eri helped keep her distracted with work. But it wasn’t the same. It helped that Neku was there for her everyday though, like today.

“Well that's all I have for now. Please keep on eye out for the skaterbrain, and wish me luck on my presentation,” she felt a tap on the back of her hand, “till tomorrow.”

As predicted, Shiki was a ball of nerves during her presentation, but she warmed up at least a quarter way through. It helped that she knew most of the execs from her internship days at Jupiter, and were impressed with her work. The collaboration looked promising for the coming days. Eri and Rhyme, both of her founding Gatto Nero board members, ushered her to leave for her date while they settled some details, promising to meet up with her afterward. She felt like she was on top of the world after that meeting, and was bouncing happily to the coffee shop to grab her customary celebratory drink before heading to Hachiko.

What she saw standing behind the statue made her drop her drink and had her flying across the scramble. She barreled into the boy, causing his headphones to fall into his hood. He took a step back to steady them both before bringing his arms around her.

“Hey Shik’s, did ya miss me tha much?” the blond boy flashed a mischievous grin.

“You idiot! I’m so mad at you! I’m going to sew your feet to the ground if you ever do that again!” Shiki screamed at him, throwing fists into his lean chest to demonstrate how mad she really wasn’t.

“Gah girl, when did ya get so strong?” Beat shrieked, trying to hug her again to stop her from hitting him.

“I missed ya too, now stop hittin’ me yo!” She pouted as she squeezed him tight. She had gotten so used to his hugs, she really missed them.

“I got a surprise fo ya.” He pulled away from her so she could see who was behind him.

She stopped breathing. It was like her lungs and heart decided to shut down at the same time, leaving her body to scramble on how to save the rest of her. Her hands tingled from the lack of oxygen as she stared at his face, the one that had matured, but never really changed after three years. He sported his boyish smile, not hidden behind a collar, the ones she admittedly had forgotten about but made her stomach flutter all the same.

“Hey Stalker.”

She could tell that he was nervous, the same nervous energy he had when they started dating years ago. Shiki had dreamed about what their reunion would be like, what she would do when it happened, what she imagined he would say. It wasn’t that, and she wanted to punch him for it if she could just MOVE.

But she felt paralyzed, and he was getting even more nervous from the silent treatment. There were a couple of people she didn’t recognize around them, but all she saw was Neku.

Growing impatient, Beat slapped Neku on the back so hard he fell forward, catching his balance before he could fall into Shiki. When he was close enough she reached out and grabbed his hand, with all the familiarity she had gotten used to for two years. Then he tenderly touched her face, wiping away her tears.

“I’m home.” He said gently.

She managed to mutter, “welcome home,” before he sealed his promise with a kiss she had been waiting too long to return.

OMAKE

“Phones get a room bro! We got kids ‘ere!”

“Yeah Neku-san get some!”

“We aren’t that much younger than you”

“I believe that I am older than all of you. And with that I bid you all farewell as I am in jeopardy of major spoilers. I must get the new EleStra DLC immediately!”

“Boss, wait, we got to celebrate our victory, come back!”

Notes: Full disclaimer, I haven’t finished TWEWY NEO yet, I’m starting the third week now. I’ve spoiled myself, so I sort of know what happens, but a lot of what I do know is out of context. So take this story as you will, it might not make a whole lot of sense, and might be completely off, but I’m excited that when I do finish the game, how my headcannons will have matched up! Or don’t!

That also being said, I starved myself from reading other fanfics on the Neshiki reunion because I didn’t want it to unintentionally change my headcannon and I also wanted to write without feeling like I was copying someone else’s ideas. If my story is similar to someone else’s, it’s purely because great minds think alike. An example of convergent evolution if you will. (I will be devouring those fics very soon though).

Notes regarding the story-wise: I like found family tropes, and I wanted to make it clear that Beat and Shiki’s relationship are purely brother/sister related if I haven’t already. If you have other shipping goggles on, have at it in this judgement free zone. This story was inspired by this idea I had of Shiki sitting behind Hachiko holding hands (I love hand holding. I wrote two other fanfics about that) with Neku, who is transparent being in the UG, just smiling at her while she talks about her day even though she can’t see him. The miracles of love and friendship traverse all planes right?

Anyway, if you’ve read this far, thanks for listening to my Ted Talk and I hope you enjoyed this Neshiki food I’ve haphazardly prepared in like 7 hours.

[that-one-bi-wizard]

Yo, it’s been a while since I uploaded a one-shot for my Nerd!Jack and Jock!Davey AU, huh? Well, here’s a little something I’ve been wanting to upload for a while. If you wanna read it on my ao3, I have a link here! I’m always taking prompts, so ya’ll can submit prompts for this AU if ya’ll want.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one-shot!

Davey checked the time.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and rushed from the school’s gym.  He was glad he got out of practice early because Jack’s art club should be over right about… now.

Jack walked out of the art classroom with paint stains all along his arms. Davey smiled and caught up with him. “Jack!”

Jack beamed when he saw Davey. “Hey, Dave. What’s up?”

“Nothing really. I was let out early, so if you need a ride home…”

“’Course. You know the answers always gonna be yes.” He grabbed Davey’s arm and draped it over his shoulder. “Come on.”

Davey kissed Jack’s forehead and kept his arm wrapped around him until they got to his car. They drove in comfortable silence, listening to only the radio as they watched buildings pass. It wasn’t long before they got to Jack’s apartment building.

Davey checked the time. It was still pretty early. “Want me to walk you to your apartment, Jacky?”

Jack shrugged. “Sure, if ya want.” He got his backpack and took Davey’s hand. He led the taller boy inside and took him to an old elevator. When it opened, he pressed the button for the fifth floor. As they waited, Jack never let go of Davey’s hand. Davey squeezed Jack’s hand. His gaze drifted to Jack. The way the dim light cast gentle shadows over his facial features gave the shorter boy’s face made Davey’s heart race.

He slowly turned to Jack and brought his hand up to make the shorter boy face him. He untangled his fingers from Jack’s and removed the other’s glasses. Jack blinked a few times. “Davey.”

Davey leaned down and laid a gentle kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. Jack kissed back almost immediately. He grabbed Davey by the collar of his jacket and pulled him closer. Then, he wrapped his arms around him. Davey did the same.

It felt as if Jack was the only person in the world. Everything around them disappeared. It was only them. Only them.

Well, until…

“Am I interrupting somthin’ important?”

They immediately pulled apart. Davey felt heat rise to his face. A shorter man stood just outside the elevator door with his arms crossed and a stone, cold expression on his face. Davey wasn’t sure whether to feel embarrassed or intimidated.

Jack just scoffed and stepped out of the elevator. “Shut up, Spot. It ain’t like you and Racer haven’t done worse.” He grabbed the taller boy’s hand and pulled him next to him. “What are you doin’ anyway?”

The man pat Jack on the back. “I figured you wouldn’t be back for a while, so I decided to do your job and go get the mail for ya.” He looked from Jack to Davey. “Apparently, you were too busy to do it anyway.”

Davey looked down at his feet not wanting to make eye contact with this man he didn’t know. Jack squeezed his hand. “I keep forgetting you twos haven’t met. Spot, this is my boyfriend. Davey, this is my older brother, Sean, but we call ‘im Spot.”

Davey felt his stomach twist. He looked up from his feet and waved awkwardly. “Hi… uh, I’m David Jacobs… it’s nice to meet you.” He held his hand out.

The older man looked at it but kept his arms crossed. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah…whatever you say,” he muttered. “You can just call me Sean.” He turned his attention to Jack. “I’ll be right back. Just tell Ma to start dinner without me.”

“Okay,” Jack responded.

The shorter man disappeared behind the metal doors of the elevator.

Davey felt himself let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He shoved his hands in his pocket and handed Jack back his glasses. “You never told me you had a brother.”

Jack took out his house key from his pocket. “You never asked.”

Davey looked back cautiously as if Jack’s brother would come back up and beat him over the head with a bat. “I don’t think he likes me much.”

Jack just laughed. “Well, you certainly left one hell of a first impression, didn’t ya?” Jack saw Davey’s expression and his tone became more serious. “Hey, don’t worry ‘bout it. He’s a little threatenin’ at first, but he’s a real softie once ya get to know ‘im. Anyway, thanks again for the ride. See ya tomorrow, Davey.” He gave him one last kiss on the cheek before heading inside.

A smile tugged at Davey’s face as he turned to leave.

When he got to the first floor, he saw Jack’s brother again. He gave an awkward smile, but the other just rolled his eyes. “C’mere.”

Davey looked around then pointed to himself with a questioning look. Spot motioned for him to come. “Yeah, you. Now, get your ass over here.”

Davey walked quickly to where Spot was. Davey knew he was tall, but compared to him Spot was short. He noticed how Spot had the same dark hair as Jack just cut shorter and the same hazel eyes. Spot’s were just more threatening.

He also had quite the opposite fashion sense as his brother. Jack was usually dressed fairly nicely in a button-up and a white undershirt. This man looked like he borrowed his clothes from a biker. He wore a black leather jacket, dark red muscle shirt and ripped jeans. Spot looked Davey up and down with the most unimpressed expression Davey had ever seen.

“David, huh? Jack talks about a lot about ya.”

“All good things, hopefully,” Davey joked hoping to lighten the mood. Apparently, Spot wasn’t one to joke.

“Yeah… I don’t buy it though. What do you want from him?”

Davey was taken aback by the question. “What?”

His voice dropped and became more aggressive. He grabbed Davey by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to meet his eyes. “You heard me. What do you want? Money? Sex? You want ‘im to do your schoolwork for you?”

Davey rubbed the back of his neck. “I-I don’t want anything! I just… really like Jack. It’s not my fault he kissed me in the elevator!”

Spot’s gaze never left him. He just shook his head and released the taller boy. Davey wrung his hand together. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Spot sighed. “Whatever. Look, you better watch yourself because if I hear you did anything to make my little brother uncomfortable or cry, I’m gonna mess you up so bad, you won’t be able to walk for months. And if you even think about breakin’ his heart, you best believe you won’t be able to walk ever again or breathe right! Got it?”

Davey nodded frantically. “Yes, sir!”

Spot smirked. “Good. See ya around ‘Davey’.” He turned and disappeared into the building.

Davey remained silent, his feet unwilling to move. He let out a shaky breath. “What the hell?”

-

Davey was hoping he wouldn’t have to see Spot again anytime soon.

Well, he was shit out of luck with that. He and Jack had a project they needed to work on due Monday. They couldn’t go to the library because it closed early on Fridays. They couldn’t go to Davey’s house because his aunt and uncle were visiting and he didn’t want to deal with them right now. So, the only other place to go was Jack’s place.

As they entered, there was no sign of Spot, which was a good thing. They were greeted by a tall, dark woman who had such a contagious smile.

“Jack!” She greeted. “How was your day, hon?”

Jack hugged her. “Good, Ma. Dave and I got a project we gotta work on.”

She released Jack and turned to Davey with a smile. “David! Well, if it ain’t the boyfriend I’ve been hearing so much about!” She hugged him.

Davey stiffened and looked over at Jack, who was silently laughing to himself. Considering how threatening Spot was, Davey expected Jack’s mom to be less… cheerful.

She took a step back and put a hand on Davey’s shoulder. “I’m Miss Medda Larkins, but you can call me Miss Medda or just Medda.”

Davey laughed nervously. “Heh…thank you, ma’am.”

“Jack’s told us so much about you, and you are every bit as handsome as he said you were.”

Davey chuckled. “Really?” He glanced over at Jack, who had a light shade of pink on his cheeks. “Thank you, Miss Medda.”

Jack grabbed Davey’s arm. “Okay, Ma. We’re gonna be in my room workin’.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Just behaves yourselves. I’ll call you two when dinner’s ready.”

Jack’s blush grew darker. “Okay, Ma. Love ya.” He dragged Davey to his room.

It was really small with only a bed and nightstand as the only pieces of furniture. His walls had cracks and chipped paint with sketches and canvases with Jack’s art covering as much of them as possible. Jack closed the door behind them.

Davey sat on Jack’s bed. “Your mom seems nice. She doesn’t look anything like you though. I’m guessing you get your looks from your dad?”

Jack shrugged. “Good question. I’ll let ya know if I ever meet ‘im or my mom.”

Davey’s heart sank. “Oh… Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Jack waved a dismissive hand. “Pssh, it’s fine. Medda’s our foster mom. She adopted Spot and me when we were little.” He smiled to himself. “Anyway, I never thought of her as someone who could intimidate anyone, but you shoulda seen the look on your face when she hugged ya.” He sat next to Davey.

Davey shook his head. Then, he smirked. “So, you tell your family you think I’m handsome?”

The blush returned. “Shut up!” He grabbed his pillow and whacked Davey with it.

Davey laughed. “Aw, come on. I just think it’s cute.” He put an arm around Jack’s waist and brought him closer.

“Whatever,” Jack murmured. He whacked the taller boy again only to get another laugh.

“Okay, okay. I’m done. Let’s just get to work.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

They worked for about an hour or two. Doing research, organizing information, cracking some jokes here and there. It was nice honestly. The two ultimately ended up cuddling with their legs tangled up together.

It was all good until…

Jack’s bedroom door slammed open.

Davey almost fell off the bed, bringing the smaller boy with him. His chest tightened when he saw who it was.

“The hell you doin’ in here with the door closed?”

“Dammit, Spot! Ya almost scared us half to death!” Jack sat up.

Spot stood in the doorway with his same stone expression and his arms crossed. “Did Ma let you twos shut the door? You two coulda been doing somethin’ nasty in here. Leave your damn door open, Jack!”

Jack groaned. “Fine. Just get outta here, Spot.”

Spot shot one last look at Davey then left.

“Ugh, sorry Davey. He’s usually at his boyfriend’s house on the weekends. I don’t know why he’s here.”

Davey waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine. I just get the feeling he doesn’t trust me.”

“You kiddin’? This is the nicest he’s treated anyone in a while. When he thought Kath and I were dating, he wouldn’t let her in the apartment!”

Davey thought back to their conversation the previous day and shuddered. “Seems like a nice guy.”

Jack punched Davey’s arm. He peeked outside the door then lowered his voice. “He’s been overprotective our whole lives. I think it’s ‘cause I’m technically the only family he’s got left, and he don’t want anythin’ happening to me. What he don’t get is that I can take care of myself. I don’t need him scarin’ people off for me.”

Davey nodded slowly. “I get it. But it’s going to take more than an overprotective brother to scare me off.” Davey smiled assuredly.

Jack laughed. “You sure ‘bout that. ‘Cause he’s probably gonna be on your ass for the next few months. You sure you can handle that.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Jackie.”

Davey leaned in to kiss Jack but stopped midway when he heard Medda call their names.

Jack stood up and pulled Davey up after him. He draped the taller boy’s arm over his shoulder. “Come on, Ma made dinner.”

Davey smirked. “Great. Now, I can ask her just how much you talk about me.”

Jack punched him again playfully. “Shut up!”

[my-bread]

I used to be an Onision fan. Here’s what happened.

I’m going to go ahead and say that this is a longer post, so I know most people won’t read all of it, so here’s the short and sweet: I used to love onision videos. Now I don’t. Somewhere in there I get stabbed and come out as queer. I give some bad advice and say goodbye. Story over.

For those willing to read the entire thing, find a good place to sit, this is a long one.

I got introduced to Onision by a friend of mine. We had just got done shooting guns in his backyard and wanted to watch some YouTube videos, and he asked me if I had ever seen the “I’m a banana” song. We watched it as well as some other stupid videos. At the time we both loved comedy sketch and controversial humor so Onision was like a gold mine to us.

This was about the time where I started to make my own opinions about things in life. I started to take stances on certain subjects, I started trying to figure out who I was, I wanted to stop shooting guns, color my hair, become vegetarian, get some piercings, and eventually, wanted to come out as queer. I lived in a small conservative town so YouTube was how I learned about everything, got exposed to everything, and I definitely became obsessed.

I loved so many big name YouTubers practically religiously, and Onision was one of them. But the world of YouTube was changing, and shock humor sketch comedy was no longer on the forefront of the website. But unlike the other YouTubers who were trying to change with the times, Onision continued with his videos practically unfaltered. Practically cornering the market of self produced sketch comedy and parody. That was what made me continue watching was the fact that he was still self produced, unlike a lot of other creators who had large scale productions, management, employees, contracts, he presented as an original content creator.

I started coming out as queer to my close friends, with some understanding and others not. I had some very dark nights where the only thing that kept me from doing something stupid was parody videos. Onision (UhOhBro especially) had helped me a lot. And at the time I didn’t really know there was a controversy, I was just a anxious/depressed kid who had a bad sense in jokes. To me at the time Onision seemed like a good guy. While yes, his humor was dark, offensive, and probably wrong on so many levels, he seemed to have good morals and I shared his same views (at least the ones he had when I was that age) I saw Onision as someone who had been in the military but was for gun control, someone who believed in women’s rights, someone who believed in gay rights, a vegetarian, and someone who was against child abuse and mutilation. Views that were not found around where I lived.

It was around this time where I had lost a very valuable friendship in a really ironic way. The same friend from earlier (the one who intoduced me to Onision) and I were just finishing up going through his knife collection when he made some sort of side comment about how it would be hilarious if Onision made a video with a certain other YouTuber. (I’m leaving their name out to be polite because this is supposed to be about my time as an Onision fan, but from what happens next, anyone with basic understanding of Onision drama will know exactly who it is.) I lost it laughing, because the insane fangirl I was knew that they had kissed before and had a falling out. This is also when I rushed to get out my phone and show him the video. Him being extremely homophobic was disgusted by the video and instantly became revolted by Onision. Being the queer kid that I am (I was not out to him) tried to get him to understand (especially since we were so close) but the argument just got more heated, I was trying to defend gay rights, he was trying to convince me that it was wrong beyond sin, and after lots of yelling it ended with a decent sized cut on my arm from the knife he was holding in his hand. (He didn’t stab me on purpose FYI. It was a total accident) I was on the ground crying, mainly because I didn’t want to get stitches, and he was wrapping up my arm, cleaning up all the blood, telling me that as long as wore long sleeves for a little bit, my parents wouldn’t even have to know. Now this is where you would expect us to have a romantic moment, our eyes meet, and he would kiss me, we would fall in love, but no. That’s not what happened. I just simply looked had him, still crying as we sat on the floor, arm all wrapped up in gause, clothes covered in blood, that I was queer. I was still crying, and he helped me get to my feet. He stayed silent, getting me a clean shirt to walk home in, from his closet. After I changed, he was giving me a hug, telling me he was sorry, that he would pray for me, that I was still one of his best friends, that it didn’t change anything that I was queer. But it definitely did, because after I left his house that night, we haven’t talked since. I cried all night that night and the only thing that gave me any kind of happiness was Onision videos. The same videos that had also made my hyper conservative, super pro gun, sexist, homophobic, ultra religious, believer in ‘children are property’ friend happy. Looking back I can tell that Onisions values were not the most structurally sound, but hindsight is 20/20.

I stayed a fan for quite some time, never getting too involved, but occasionally getting smack from my friends for watching his videos because of his controversies that were happening at the time. Then, the adpocolypse had begun on YouTube.

Lots of creators were effected by this, not going to lie, but no one handled it quite like Onision. Like that last huge algorithm change, Onision stayed mostly the same. Still making stereotypical sketch comedy. But because of his language and content choices, could get barely any ads on any of the videos across any of his channels. So the patreon ads began, and I honestly don’t mind when creators promote their patreons. Their are plenty of people that I watch still that premote it, but it’s just how Onisiony he promoted it.

Onision has always been very vocal about his opinions, and if he’s upset about something he will make a statement. The same thing happened with patreon. Almost every joke turned to “for patreons only” or “unsensored hentai break on patreon” videos became less and less about what they were supposed to be, and more just an ad for patreon. Which I was not a fan of. I don’t know if it was just I had gotten older, or my comedic tastes have changed, but I was starting to not find his videos funny. They seemed brash, with overdone characters, rushed production, stale acting, over the top themes, and just trying too hard to hold on to the same thing he had been doing for ten years. I was never a fan of the ‘hot or not’ videos, and slowly he just faded out of my recommendation list when I got online. I never had some major realization while I was watching his videos that I didn’t like them, I just slowly stopped watching.

And the truth is, I would still go back and watch his old comedy sketch, or UhOhBro, or shock humor because I still find those videos funny.

But then I started seeing it from the other side. And oh boy with was a shit show. When I was a fan of Onision, I never saw any of the controversy. Literally zero. Especially since I was a fan of his comedy work. You’d see the ‘apology videos’ or the ‘my side of the story’ but as a fan I literally knew nothing that was going on. Everything was phrased in those videos to not seem as serious as they could potentially be, or be just as serious of a situation but make it look neutral, and that no one person was the instigator. But as soon as you step away from the crowd and saw the whole show, it was a lot more complex. As a fan, at least in my experience, everything was seen as under control. That everyone else is overreacting. That were within our bounds, everything is fine, this isn’t really that bad. It’s just YouTube videos, just jokes. Everything was fine. But everything definitely isn’t fine. That’s for damn sure. When I followed his content, I would never come across anyone’s complaints about his content. Now that I don’t follow his content, I probably see a new controversy of his a month.

I completely understand why people who follow him so blindly do, because from their standpoint, he is a poster child. But it doesn’t mean he still hasn’t done wrong things.

Looking back, you can see his content change over the years, but in some ways it still stays the same. It’s all still controversial. It didn’t really matter if it was shock humor or scandals, it was still views, still ad revenue, still his life. And you can see he’s burned out over the years. Just trying to get content out and keep the numbers up any way he can. But always trying to stay true to what he founded his channel on. Shock humor and angst.

As my (very unqualified) advice to Onision. It’s okay to change what kind of content you make. Emo Charlie and Chibi are literally ten years old. Your sketch characters could be in the 5th grade learning long division and growing out of the Disney channel. I know there are new characters but they are still around. That says how much your content has changed. Also, you are the final filter for your content. You ultimately decide what goes on the Internet under your name. You decide how private or public your life is. No one is forcing you to upload personal content. Sometimes someone else might try to paint you in a bad light but so be it. Fight fire with water, I promise you it’s more effective. Finally, think about what you actually stand for. People call you out for a lot of stuff and actually stop and think about if your actually doing it. Don’t just blindly shoot back a response.

Of course I do not expect him to ever take any of that advice, but I’ll just put that out there so maybe someday it might just find it’s way to him.

Thank you Onision for helping me through my adolescence, I do not regret to inform you I will not be watching your videos. My best regards.

[oceangl1tter]

the far end of the pool: things i write when i'm pmsing and i think i should cry because the mcflurry is just too good

just because it's not a monster doesn't mean it can't hurt you://

in this dream i am wading away in the middle of it

, i'd like to drown but floating holds me hostage.

in another, i am running as hard as i can along the coastline

but i can never get away from it

grief:

it must run in our blood,

if you are not hurting then something must be wrong our doctor says.

grief:

holds out its arms to be comforted and I gladly accept it.

repulsion is what made victor's creation into a monster,

sacrifice,then, i believe, is the highest form of love you can give

and the lowest you can take.

-----

deal with the cards you're dealt://

she's married to a gambler; she hates those filthy gamblers and the useless drunks that pour their livelihood into coin machines long hours into old nights. "the biggest poker room in the world!" but really, it's a dump filled with people that can't afford to lose. there are countless videos of poker incidents with a consistent pattern of white men getting angry over a few bucks and the impending dread of empty wallets. there's one uploaded about a poker mistake. The incident is over $40. 600,000 views and the comments are vile. there are still comments. I want to write one. The bitch that you think should get fired is my mom, and she comes home 5 in the morning asking me if I can look up the name of the place she works at on YouTube. I don't know why. her eyes are red and poofy. I search for it and I'm scrolling and I see her face in the thumbnail but I tell her I don't find anything. I look at the video later that day and I stop midway—this is all I can do.

-----

pearl from the bottom of it asks: am i strange?://

we are at the beach walking along the coastline,

i like how my feet pitter patter against the wet sand,

it makes a funny sound pitter patter patter pitter caterpillar !

the waters go out sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo far i can't see the end,

i don't want this to end ! i

i'm a child when i say to my cousin's husband, David, that

i feel like i don't belong—a visceral feeling of estrangement.

it must have been strange at that time to hear that as an adult.

i hope he said something good.

even though i'm no longer part of their lives

even though they bloomed mine, i hope he said something good.

-----

unbothered://

he's sprawled across a bed of flowers he planted and i presume he is comfortable in his suit and tie so i go back inside. he is sprawled across the outdoor bathroom, chinese food hurled in a neat pile near the drain, and i presume he is comfortable in his suit and tie so i go back inside.

-----

false conclusions to an assignment: 2017

His back sits slant on his dust-ridden “lucky” chair, legs propped up and the Sunday Weekly Chinese newspaper freshly tucked in both of his hands. In precisely framed sixty second intervals he would take a sip from his glass mug-- making sure that the right amount of tea would swish in his mouth like some pendulum of tea mouthwash.  Others around him would perceive this habit of his as peculiar or rather off-putting but to him this was a routine that reminded him of his place before America. The mannerisms he made public did not sink well into ordinary daily life but they always traced back to how he was in bustling Guangzhou, China. Despite moving and living in America for almost a decade, my father remains unchanging.  

At odd hours he would catch me scuttling across the living room and would pull me aside to dazzle me with proverbs by Confucius and Chinese characters he had scrawled onto calligraphy paper. But it was his passion that brought him the greatest injustice. Every few seconds after each of his grand demonstrations he would impatiently ask,”Does this make sense? Do you understand?”. But there were expressions he could not articulate and ideas that I could not comprehend and it was in these moments that bouts of frustration had him tied by the neck.

My father found solace in the cigarette but stowed them away when around his children. For every cigarette butt thrown, a white hair would sprout on his head and my father would make a point of dying his hair to keep his youth. Safety was a regular theme he proclaimed to all of his friends and family while intoxicated and coming back from celebrations, his drunk state insisted on ensuring that everyone stayed away from danger.  Moments after professing his will to protect his children , he was cradled on the couch and admitted fetal position with the faint odor of musty alcohol cloaking the living room. The relations between my father and his children exhibited far less emotional trauma than what we watched on T.V. screens. He had been a construction worker but at home he was the thinker, the innovator, the lost-in-thought character, and the parent who tried his best even when times were not the best. He was unchanging in his routines and his mannerisms and his demonstrations but he lacked the patience for what he could not accomplish here.

Growing up, at the beach he would build sandcastles with his children while making proud remarks about the supposed architecture of the seaweed windows. Despite the life he was building simultaneously crumbling in his hands he made sure that his daughters would remain unchanging in the face of misfortune. So when the sea wiped out the sand castle under the wraps of its waves my father remained silent and watched me rebuild a new one.

-----

wrath: i stopped building things i couldn’t protect://

she gets angry when he smokes around us so i tell dad we can make a secret code so mom doesn't know so you can go smoke and you will be happy and mom will be happy and i will be happy that you're happy. which sounds better for our secret language, just between us: going out to eat or going out to drink? i will be your friend when everyone hates you. when you two are so loud i ask for water because then you will have to get me water instead of getting hurt. i feel happy because it works a lot of the times and no one knows and i get water

Moa tells me that a mutual friend that lives on my street told him that she knew me as a kid and hated me because I was arrogant and annoying—boasting about my dad until I couldn’t. I don’t remember this.

In another memory, my second sister is on her knees, as if in prayer, begging my dad to stop lighting fire to his lungs. She is wailing; what an awful sight to see.

-----

edits: ambition://

At odd hours he would catch me scuttling across the living room and would pull me aside to dazzle me with proverbs by Confucius and Chinese characters he had scrawled onto calligraphy paper. Astronomy and humanity's search for planetary life. Calculating the distance between planets. His sketched designs for rocketships that will save the world when we run out of resources—ones he would want to pitch to NASA if he could get the chance. The prospects of artificial intelligence and how he is conjuring the idea up as we speak. His excel sheets filled with a random assortment of numbers that scroll endlessly. The company he has in China working with worldwide scientists. The hackers that are out to get his data and if I could help him disconnect from the WiFi on this laptop. His question to me of whether I'd rather accept a book or a million dollars (his answer: always accept the book because you can learn from that book and make that million dollars (or more) yourself— my mom scoffs.) His million dollar stocks program that will supposedly make us rich and make this all worth it, "this" as in the part in his life where he chose between two things and I suffered as a result.

 My mom, the epitome of practicality beat into her through survival, laughs at him because how can he, a highschool drop-out, be on the same level as top scientists? Where was the money he said would come out of his "program" while she toils day and night to make sure we're fed? My mother says that after the fall, his brain, personality, physical body, the overall trajectory, has gone sort of..lopsided and to not mind him when he gets a certain way. He is slowly decaying. In China, when I was in a night car-ride with my dad's side of the family, one of my cousins mentions that it's real. I don't even know what 'it' is but I believe in him, even when my family doesn't. There are scientists in history who weren't believed; their ideas dismissed as crazy and never brought to fruition, masterpieces not appreciated during the artist's lifetime, the same constant stream of people that will die alone without a soul knowing the way they smiled and I can't help but believe in that glint in his eyes because it makes me sad not to. He could have been something. So why not give him that, even if it's fake?

-----

My dad tells me to always do what I want to do, what I love to do and not to listen to quote unquote simple-minded people. I only get phonecalls from my mom but she tells me I should do something that will make money. When I told her I wanted to do something computer-related because AI is hard to explain in Cantonese and it seems almost too intangible sometimes and I'll probably settle for something i hate, she asks: isn't that for boys? why would you do that? Every phonecall, the same. Whether I have a boyfriend, that it's okay if I have one and I can tell her, that I need one for when I get old (to which I tell her I don't want to talk about it and that I don't want anything like her marriage, a statement I felt bad about afterwards but I was feeling selfish), if I'm doing something that will make money,if i'm doing something that will make money so that I can have a family, if i'm doing something that will make money so that i can have a family and provide for my children so I won't be alone when I'm older, if I'm sitting too much, e.t.c.. She wants to hear my voice she says, but what's the point of hearing it when all you get are empty words? They are opposites, their flames different kinds. She knows my birthday, but my dad doesn't—albeit a byproduct of being born the same year he fell, yet I feel somewhat closer to him, opposite of my sisters. I ask my first sister once about how they ever came to fall in love (she doesn't know) because sometimes I wish they hadn't—even if it meant not being here, perhaps they would've both been happier. We have a garden and my dad asks what color flowers I'd like. We’re on the Home Depot site and I pick out the pink, white, yellow flowers. She yells at him for not planting something worthwhile with use, a plant we can get something out of, some sort of fruit tree with ugly, bulky leaves casting shadow on something that should have been beautiful. It was a peculiar thing to be arguing about but it represented them two perfectly, intertwined— imperfectly.