Onision’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek like a baby bird dying. He resets his youtube password because that bitch Cyr keeps hacking into his channel and he keeps getting videobombed half naked.
“Now, to educate these fucking internet losers about some bullcrap they should already know,” says Onision to himself. He boots up premiere pro or whatever bullshit torrented editing program he uses to give his face one thousand two hundred and eighty square pixels of glorious photoshopped, filtered detail. He totally rocks the no filter look and is super bangable even when he dresses like a slob; he just does it for his teenage fans.
“Oh fuck, I have a message,” says Onision. He says this super in fucking character. I don’t know how you write this guy, honestly.
So some shit email has bypassed his junk filter and plonked right in his inbox with his overdue redtube premium subscription alert. Onision doesn’t give a single shit about that. He sips his coconut water thoughtfully.
The email reads, Sexy Youtube Collaboration with English Boy. Onision deletes it because he’s pretty sure he’s on a list just for even reading that title. Eugh. He thinks he needs some moustache cats just to drown out the sadness of his very existence.
Several moustache cats later and a few quick brightness and contrast adjustments and Onision is smugly watching his video upload because has great wifi and it doesn’t take ten hours like everyone else on the planet probably in Australia. Cyr is a generic name. Cyr is to Onision what Cry is to Pewdiepie. Maybe. Onision doesn’t pretend to understand the nuances of whatever fucking friendship cords bind people together, but he sure is friends with Cyr for some reason. Ha, friends. They do make excellent body shields.
Onision’s phone beeps. He doesn’t have snapchat because he’s an old ass tool, and his mum is texting him. Onision, are you coming home for Christmas?
Religion is for pussies. Onision considers linking her to his “10 things I hate about religion video” but fuck it she can google her own shit, she’s a grown ass woman.
Watch your fucking language honey, Onision’s mum texts back.
Onision’s fucking messenger client blips. It’s Onision’s made up friend Natasha because I don’t care who all Onision’s generic underage fucking girlfriends are.
Natasha says hey. Hey Natasha, Onision writes back. How’s your complete lack of personality?
Hahaha you’re so funny! Natasha writes back. She then does the next minute and a half doing that typing and untyping shit which is actually hilarious because it reeks of insecurity. What’re you up to?
She appears to be letting that massive dig slide without an awkward enquiry as to its meaning or sincerity, which was probably her other option. Just making a shitty listicle vid. Top 10 worst tv shows of 2016.
Oh wow, I love Netflix! I didn’t know you watch TV.
I don’t, I’m just going to read IMBD reviews and rephrase them.
Hey, don’t say he didn’t do his research. You can cite him on that. Site him. Fuck it, it’s late. He’s just going to use the video as an excuse to cruelly rate women on their genetic attractiveness like an asshole.
It’s like 11pm, why the fuck is he working and checking his email and putting up with sheeple? 11pm is porn time.
Bye forever Natasha, writes Onision, muting her facebook tab.
Onision opens up pornhub only to find his premium account there is frozen because he accidentally opened up some freaky porn which gave him a virus which specifically crashes that website. It sounds like duex-ex-machina but it isn’t, I actually got this virus once. No just kidding it’s duex-ex-machina. Fuck, how the shit do you even spell that?
Onision faps and falls asleep.
The next day, Onision is still on the computer because I doubt he goes outside going by his rate of upload. Onision composes a tweet about how ‘boob squeeze’ is flirty and non-predatorial and anyone who thinks otherwise can go fuck themselves. He starts thinking about how he shows affection for an audience that he at times appreciates but is touchy as fuck and he mostly keeps around for the attention and mixed validation.
Onision eats some avocado toast because that shit’s delicious and he’s not Shane Dawson. Shane Dawson has the exact same gay voice as a guy who goes to my work but the funny thing is neither of them are gay. Wait, is Shane Dawson gay? One for the google history. Thanks Larry Page and that other guy.
Okay so everyone’s losing interest at this point and even Onision is googling tits and doing laundry while listening to Metallica. I’m not going to google what music Onision actually likes to make it more in character because that’s taking the whole stalker thing too far even for me. My life is so nihilistic would it even matter if Onision got a restraining order against me? No. But I generally try to avoid restraining orders to seem of a reputable character, as I’m a fake fuck. You know that because I’m writing a steamy “real person fic” which is invasive to its subject and can you imagine if you went up to a stranger and were like, oh by the fucking way I wrote a fucking essay length story about your deepest carnal desires which you in no way would ever consent to? That’s some maladjusted shit right there.
I don’t know, if you want to get into the logistics of how much homoerotic and heteroerotic tension is lurking beneath the surface of youtube collabs verse how much is fanservice, I’d be intriuged. Because onision’s not gay, he said that. He said he likes butt stuff but he’s probably not gay? Fuck, I need to rewatch that video to double check.
Onision is playing angry birds and Cyr texts him. Hey, so vidcon is today.
Onision groans. No, I’m not putting on fucking pants today.
Your fans love you. They all bought tickets to see you. Onision can practically hear Cyr’s smug smirk.
Fuck my fans with a rusty hammer. They bought tickets to coo at Zoella and perve on Jenna Marbles, or vice versa. Or that fucking muppet hat guy.
You mean Danisnotonfire?
Fuck Dan and his adorable face. I love how you guessed that from “muppet hat guy.”
He just seems so muppethattable.
You know, sometimes you remind me of Q from the new James Bond movies. Just the way you talk and dress, not the spy mastermind thing. You’re kind of a prissy bitch. Also you have black hair.
Thanks Onision. Get fucking ready for vidcon I want to see SMOSH.
In a feat to woo humanity, Onision puts on pants, and remembers to pull up his zipper. Onision will kill Cry if he makes them look bad in front of Natalie Tran. Anyway Onision is wearing his smokiest mascara and his smuttiest black shirt. How is a shirt smutty? Ask away bitches.
So Onision just released a video right now discussing his music preferences so I’m going to go right ahead and amend that Metallica to a Smashing Pumpkin.
Fuck, am I still writing this piece of shit fanfiction?
I am so fucked for waking up early tomorrow.
Let’s get to the good part already.
Onision is listening to his earphones play the Peter Pan soundtrack on his iphone while Cyr works the room. Christ, that makes him sound like a hooker. He knows he is. Okay, what does that even mean?
Onision explodes in a ray of golden sunlight. His entrails coat the ceiling. Cops swing by and Onision makes a video about divorcing his entrails due to his turbulent relationship with them. Eugenia Cooney thumbs it down. Social Repose gives it a sneaky add to his emo sadomasochist fap playlist. There is nothing attractive about Onision’s forced, droll personality and body image hangups.
Meanwhile, Cyr stares at the wall behind his desk. He hasn't made youtube rewind and now he's considering plastic surgery. He uploads a pandering "COD VLOGMAS! no clickbait" video, which is about as explosive as his Christmas is going to get. His black glasses clatter to the desk and shatter.
"Oh no, my designer Burberry!" Cyr squeals.
Shane Dawson walks in and bitchslaps Cyr. "Stop crying, you little bitch!"
"Bring Onision back right now! I've come to make a video with him," said Shane.
"What? I thought you and him had an immortal fued?"
"I was just playing hard to get and he took it way too seriously," Shane replied. He started tasting things in Onision's kitchen.
Onision had bad taste in food. Most of it was stale and ant-covered.
"Ants are full of protein," Cyr bragged, dipping his ant cracker in hommous. "I usually only eat gluten free vegan paleo craft crackers, but today's the third equinox of the summer solstice."
"Shut up with your white boy trash," said Shane. "Eat your damn Mcdonalds."
The whole world exploded into tiny white shards.