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scorpiioskiies · 2 years

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𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢

•─────⋅ᓚᘏᗢ⋅─────•

𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒑𝒊𝒐 ──── ❪천갈궁❫

main user: 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚖𝚎!,

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

𝗦𝗵𝗲/𝗵𝗲𝗿. 𝗫𝗩𝗜𝗜𝗜. 𝘀𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗽𝗶𝗼(𝗼𝗯𝘃). 𝗥𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗘𝘃𝗶𝗹 + 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗳𝘁 + 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗢𝗳 𝗨𝘀 + 𝗙𝗡𝗔𝗙 + 𝗣𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗣𝗹𝗮𝘆𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲.

♏ ﹙ 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗮𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀!! ）

﹕ 𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺. . .

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ㅤㅤ

𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝘂𝗽 ❪ scorpiioskiies/naturallymqvis/naturallydayz ❫

↳ ❝ [@naturallydayz] ¡! ❞

↳ ❝ [@naturallymqvis] ¡! ❞

•─────⋅ᓚᘏᗢ⋅─────•

• Rules For Requests

• Reblogs

• Personals

• Masterlist

• All About Me

•─────⋅ᓚᘏᗢ⋅─────•

Hello, The name's Scorpio! 👋

Welcome to my little square space. I hope you feel welcomed to talk, chat, or anything in particular.

If you don't like my stories, it's okay. If you do, please reblog, like, or follow this account if you want.

More stories, Oneshots, and others will be coming soon!

Unless stated otherwise, the reader will be Gender neutral or female, because that's easiest for me. I hope you don't mind 💜. Please do not ask if I can add your OCs or change anything, because its hard work to do so.

If you want to talk about anything, I'm down for it! Give me anything to talk about and I'll be right here if you need me!🙃

Nothing much about me, but the 'All About Me' button is there to press if you wanna know more!

My Oneshots, stories and other things are for all to enjoy!

Thank you so much! Have a lovely day, readers! Farewell! 👋💜💜.

•─────⋅ᓚᘏᗢ⋅─────•

𝐂һᥲrᥲᥴ𝗍ᥱr 𝐋іs𝗍

*𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐲. 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫!*

𝗔𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗢𝗻 𝗧𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗻 ─

• Levi Ackerman

• Eren Yeager

• Armin Arlert

• Jean Kirstein

• Reiner Braun

• Connie Springer

𝗖𝗦𝗜: 𝗖𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗦𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲 𝗜𝗻𝘃𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ──

• Gil Grissom

• Warrick Brown

• Nick Stokes

• Greg Sanders

𝗥𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗘𝘃𝗶𝗹 ─

• Chris Redfield

• Leon S. Kennedy

• Jill Valentine

• Albert Wesker

• Claire Redfield

• Ada Wong

• Rebecca Chambers

• Ethan Winters

• Carlos Oliveira

• Karl Heisenberg

• Rosemary Winters

• Ashley Graham

• Lady Alcina Dimitrescu

• Alice

• Luis Sera

𝗙𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗔𝘁 𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗱𝘆'𝘀 ─ 𝗔𝗻𝗶𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗰𝘀

• Bonnie the Bunny

• Chica & The Cupcake (Senor Cakey)

• Foxy the Pirate Fox

• Freddy Fazbear

• Golden Freddy

• Toy Freddy

• Toy Bonnie

• Toy Chica *inserts Lenny face*

• Mangle

• Balloon Boy

• The Marionette

• Withered Freddy

• Withered Bonnie

• Withered Chica

• Withered Foxy

• Shadow Freddy

• Phantom Bonnie

• Phantom Freddy

• Phantom Chica

• Phantom Foxy

• Phantom Mangle

• Phantom Puppet

• Phantom Balloon Boy

• Springtrap

• Crying Children

• Nightmare Freddy

• Nightmare Bonnie

• Nightmare Chica

• Nightmare Foxy

• Nightmare Balloon Boy

• Jack-O-Bonnie

• Jack-O-Chica

• Nightmare Mangle

• Circus Baby

• Ballora

• Funtime Foxy

• Bon-Bon

• Funtime Freddy

• Funtime Lolbit

• Rockstar Freddy

• Rockstar Bonnie

• Rockstar Chica

• Rockstar Foxy

• Security Puppet

• Happy Frog

• Mr. Hippo

• Helpy

• Trash and The Gang

• Music Man

• Vanny

• Glamrock Freddy

• Gregory

• Glamrock Chica

• Montgomery Gator

• Roxanne Wolf

• Glamrock Bonnie

𝗙𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗔𝘁 𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗱𝘆'𝘀 ─ 𝗛𝘂𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘀

Charlie (Charlotte) Emily

The Stage Kid

Evan Afton

Susie

Jeremy

Gabriel

Fritz

Cassidy

Elizabeth Afton

The 3 Funtime Kids

The "Save Them" Kids

Micheal Afton

William Afton

Henry Emily

𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗿 ─

Santaplier 🎅

Wilford Warfstache 💗��🧁🍭

William J. Barnum 🔍♠️

Darkiplier ♥️♣️

Damien/The Mayor ✒️🖋️

Actor Mark 🍷 🎥 🏆

King Of The Squirrels 👑 🐿️

The Author 📚

The Host 🥂

Bim Trimmer 🎙️📻

Dr. Iplier 👨‍⚕️🩺🥼🩻

Chef Iplier 🍽️ 🍣🍾🥂🍷

Yandereplier 🩸🔪🗡️♥️

Dr. Plier (Therapist) 📋

Googleplier 💻💽💾📱

Bingiplier 📱🖥️😎

Markbop 🕶️🧢

Eric Derekson 👓☠️🎱

Derek Derekson 🟡💛

Dave Torres 🌃🍿🕥

The Jims 📷📹🎤📰

Yancy 🔲🔳🔲🔳🔲🔳

Captain Magnum 🏴‍☠️⚓🚢🛳️⛵

Illinois 🐪🐫🥾🔥🐚💫

Annus 🤍⚪🤍⚪

E-Boy Mark 🖤🤍🖤🤍

The MerMer 🧜🧜‍♂️

Noiriplier 🥃🔍⚫

Dadiplier/Stan Wheeler 💧🔵🌊

The Pornipliers 🍕🛠️🩺🪓🛟🛑

Murderplier 🔪🩸

Head Soldier Mark 🔫🪖🎖️

Camp Counselor Mark 🍳🍵🔥⛺🏕️

Bomb Diffuser Mark 💣🤯

The God Of Night 🌃🌑🎑🌕

Resident Enis Mark 🧟‍♂️🧟‍♀️🧟

FNAF Musical Mark 🐻🐰🐥🦊

FNAF AR Announcer 📹🎤

Bill 🐺🦊

𝗝𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲𝘆𝗲 ─

Jack (Himself)

Antisepticeye

Dr. Schneeplestein

Jackieboy Man

Marvin The Magnificent

Chase Brody

Jameson Jackson

𝗡𝗪𝗧𝗕 ─

Nate (Himself)

Senpai Nate

Phantom

Natemare

FNAF Musical Nate

𝗗𝗗𝗟𝗖 ─

• Satori (Male! Sayori)

• Yuki (Male! Yuri)

• Naruki (Male! Natsuki)

• Moniko (Male! Monika)

•─────⋅ᓚᘏᗢ⋅─────•

Many more will be comimg soon 🔜. So don't worry!

Thank you all so much! If you request a character from this list, then feel free to send an ask!

Only I will accept the characters on this list.

Tags No. 1 - Personals

Tag No. 2 - Reblogs

Tag No. 3 - Requested

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juju-on-that-yeet · 4 years

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Catch

Whumptober 2020 Day 1: Let’s Hang Out Sometime Prompt: Waking Up Restrained

Summary: MarkBop wakes to find himself kidnapped, and soon realizes he's only there as bait for someone else.

Warnings: Violence, non-main character death (one offscreen, one onscreen but non-graphic)

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

A moment ago, MarkBop was taking a walk in the city, not far from Ego Inc. Now, he’s groggily waking up in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by an unfamiliar pair of people, tied to a chair and gagged. He tries to scream, but the gag smothers the sound. His side stings like it’s been burned, his head aches. He doesn’t recognize either person in front of him; one a severe-looking man and one a short and prim woman, both dressed like scientists, complete with lab coats. They stare at him without emotion in the face of Bop’s growing panic.

“Good, you’re awake,” says the man. “Perhaps my associate and I can ask some questions while we’re waiting for your friend to arrive.”

Friend? It’s then that Bop notices a table beyond the two people, where an object is vibrating loudly. Bop recognizes the sound of his phone, buzzing as someone tries to contact him. Probably Bing, Bop guesses. Are these people trying to get Bing? Also on the table is a folder, a laptop, and a couple harsh-looking tasers. One is a simple stun gun, the other a high-tech, futuristic-looking device. Bop is certain that the pair used the stun gun on him, for the fancier taser looks as though it would’ve stopped his heart in an instant.

A taser like that could cause Bing serious damage.

“I’ll take your gag out if you agree not to scream,” says the man. “If you do scream, we’ll very easily make you quiet again.”

Bop doesn’t doubt them. He nods numbly. His mind is swimming, not just from his headache. He hardly knows what’s going on, nearly too overwhelmed to think. The gag is removed from his mouth and he whimpers.

“What–” he gasps, “Why, what–”

“How much do you know about the androids?” the man asks.

“A bit too on the nose, don’t you think?” pipes up the woman, speaking for the first time. She’s moved to the laptop, and is looking at the screen as she talks. “This is a top-secret mission, after all.”

“It won’t matter what he knows,” the man replies, “It’s not as if we’ll leave witnesses.”

Oh, that’s not a good sign. Bop whimpers again and starts to cry.

“Answer the question,” the man says, unmoved. He takes out a clipboard from his lab coat. “Or you’ll be re-gagged or worse.”

“I-I don’t know,” Bop sobs, “They, I mean, they’re stronger and faster than people, and B–Bing is, um, he h-has malfunctions sometimes b-but he’s still really strong–”

“Confirms our haunch,” the man hums to himself, writing on his clipboard. “Anything else? Anything more specific?”

Bop realizes it’d be a bad idea to say anything more. He continues to cry, but shakes his head. The man frowns.

“Did I not just tell you–”

“Let it go,” interrupts the woman, “The target’s incoming. I’m getting into position.” She grabs the mean-looking taser off the table and walks away, leaving the room through a side door.

“Who’s the target??” Bop cries, even though he already knows.

“You’ll see,” the man says. He quickly re-gags Bop, and Bop is too overwhelmed to try struggling. He trembles in his chair, waiting and hoping.

He hears a door open from somewhere a distance behind him. Bop doesn’t know what the space behind himself looks like, but he can tell by how the sound is muffled that there’s still one more door between him and Bing. He hears a hair-raising crackle of electricity, a bang, a thud, a series of cracks, and a pop. Each sound makes him cringe. It’s hard to breathe through the gag, through his sobs. The slam of a door makes him jump, and he looks over his shoulder, afraid of what he’ll see.

It’s Bing, unscathed, but angrier than Bop has ever seen him. His eyes are neon orange, so bright they hurt to look at. His hands are clenched in fists. From the hallway he just traversed to get here comes a strange smell, not unlike burnt pork. Despite how relieved he is to see Bing, Bop can’t help but feel a little sick.

“How did you get past the taser??” cries the scientist, finally expressing emotion.

“I’m a fucking android, dude,” Bing snaps, “I heard your accomplice or whatever from a mile away. The taser never even touched me. It got her pretty good, though.” Bing takes a few steps into the room. “The real question is what you wanted me here for in the first place. That giant taser must’ve been for me, right?”

“I’ll never talk,” the scientist says. Bop looks back to him to see him backing away. Bing advances, walking past Bop to confront the scientist.

“You and that woman underestimated me, didn’t you?” Bing asks, intensely angry. “You guys thought I’d be an easy target for whatever the fuck you wanted from me, huh? Your mind’s about to be blown, dickhead.”

The scientist tries to run, but Bing grabs him, seizing him by his shirt color and slamming him against the wall. His head makes a loud smack as it hits the wall and snaps forward after. He’s too dazed to even cry out as Bing reels him back, getting in his face.

“Why did you guys bait me?” Bing asks. Bop can see him shaking with rage. “Why’d you take Bop?”

“No,” is all the scientist says, voice thready and weak. Bop suspects he couldn’t say more if he tried.

Bing yells in frustration and slams him against the wall again. This time, Bop hears a deep cracking as the man’s head hits the wall, and when Bing pulls him back, his body is limp and his head lolls. Bing pauses.

“Aw shit,” he mumbles, “I think I killed him.”

Bop starts sobbing again, thoroughly overwhelmed, and Bing immediately tosses the body aside to rush to him. He pulls the gag out of his mouth and breaks the ropes keeping him in the chair. As soon as he can, Bop throws his arms around Bing’s neck and buries his face in his shoulder. Bing hugs him back tight and begins stroking his hair.

“It’s okay, Bop,” Bing murmurs, “We’re okay, we’re both safe now.”

“They, th-they were gonna hurt you,” Bop sobs, “They were g-gonna hurt me, or kill me, I-I don’t know–”

“Shh, babe, it’s alright. Don’t cry, no one’s gonna hurt us now.” Bing sighs. “I wish you didn’t have to see all that, Bop, I’m sorry. And I wish I’d been able to figure out who they worked for or something before I killed them.”

“Th-There’s a file,” Bop sniffles, “On the t-table, maybe there’s s-something…”

“Oh nice, good eye,” Bing says, encouraged. He kisses Bop gently before helping him up from the chair and striding to the table.

Bing quickly finds the folder Bop mentioned, and opens it up to read as Bop follows more slowly, still regaining his bearings. He leans against Bing as Bing reads over the folder’s contents.

“‘Project Sunset’?” Bing mumbles, reading the first sheet. “What the hell is that?”

“I th-think those people wanted you more than m-me,” Bop offers, “With the taser, they must’ve wanted to…to do something to you.”

“Lemme see…” Bing continues reading. His eyes widen. “Woah, ‘android recovery’…‘observational research’…‘conditioning of first unit in-progress’…‘execute second unit recovery on…’”

“On what?” Bop asks, confused and unnerved.

“Today’s date,” Bing gasps. “Bop, if I’m the second one they wanted, and they already got one, I think…” His face falls. “I think these are the people who took Oliver.”

Bop can’t help but cover his mouth in surprise. Oliver went missing weeks ago, and not even endless searching by the other egos, the other Googles included, have succeeded in finding him. It would take an extremely well-executed plan to make him disappear, but a group of scientists with access to the kind of tech Bop saw in that awful taser could probably do it.

“Who are they?” Bop asks. Bing searches everything over, and grunts in annoyance.

“I can’t tell,” he mutters, “There’s no company names, no corporate logos, no nothing. I can check the pockets of the guys who kidnapped you, but if their docs don’t have company names, their IDs might not have them either. Or they could have fake names.”

“Maybe there’s something on their computer,” Bop suggests, looking over at the laptop, still closed after the female scientists shut it down to confront Bing.

“Good call, babe!” Bing exclaims, kissing Bop again and making him blush. “It’s gotta be encrypted to hell and back, but I bet the Googles can break into it. I’ll take the folder too, those guys’ IDs, the taser too…”

Bing does find an ID on the male scientist, but it’s not conclusive on its own. Still, Bing pockets it and leaves into the hallway. Bop is about to follow when Bing stops him with a raised hand.

“Wait for me a bit, alright?” Bing says. “I mean, you already saw what I did to the guy, and you really don’t wanna see what I did to the girl.”

It’s a little terrifying for Bop, sometimes, to remember how strong Bing is. To remember that Bing is an android with the power to kill in the blink of an eye. Bop’s never felt unsafe around him, and he knows Bing would never hurt him, but it’s scary to know what Bing can do. So Bop only nods and lets Bing go into the hallway alone.

He returns with one more inclusive ID in his pocket and the taser, now turned-off, in one hand. He holds the laptop and folder in the other arm. He turns around, back to Bop, and looks at him over his shoulder.

“Hold onto me and close your eyes,” Bing says, “And I’ll lead you out of here so you don’t have to see…anything.”

Bop only nods, and obeys. He holds onto Bing’s shoulders and shuts his eyes, following Bing’s slow footsteps down the hall. It’s horribly unnerving to hear nothing but both their footsteps on the ground, to smell that awful burnt-pork scent still in the air, and to see nothing at all. Bop knows Bing is walking slowly for his benefit, but he wishes Bing would hurry up so they could get out faster. Finally, he feels Bing stop and hears him open a door. Bop follows him out and feels the sun on his face. When he opens his eyes, they’re outside, and the door to the building – an abandoned warehouse – has shut behind him.

“Hey, we made it!” Bing says, smiling brightly, trying to be encouraging. “C’mon, babe, let’s go home.”

Bop doesn’t have to be told twice.

As he walks alongside Bing, though, he can’t help but keep glancing at the objects in Bing’s arms, and wonder what they’ll lead to.

#whumptober2020 #no.1 #waking up restrained #markiplier #fanfic #bingiplier #markbop #kristin says stuff #my writing

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incorrect-quotes-egos · 4 years

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Bop, doing vocal warm ups: Ha ha ha

Host: Bop, you don’t need to keep trying to convince us that you’re happy.

Host: We know you’re sad on the inside.

Bop, tears running down his face and horrible off key: HA HA HA

#markiplier egos #markiplier #egos #markbop #the host #incorrect ego quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect egos #ego quotes #egos quotes #angst

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lineralangohr · 4 years

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Oh. You have a copy of MarkBop! Which song was playing in that Audio clip you posted? Hmmm? 😉

I, uh... what?

...Ok guys, let’s not listen to the words (because they’re probably just gibberish) and try to just make out the melody.

#markiplier #thanks anon #markbop #i see #no i actually have no idea #a train ran over my copy haha

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aldez250 · 6 years

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HEADCANON MARKBOP CAN ONLY SPEAK IN SONGS

EVERY CONVERSATION WITH HIM IS FULL OF BEAUTIFUL HARMONY AND NOTES OR BEATBOXING AND RAPPING

AND HE HAS A DIAL SOMEWHERE THAT CHANGES THE GENRE/TYPE OF MUSIC HE SINGS IN

AND SOMETIMES HE SINGS WITH THE VOICE OF THE ORIGINAL SINGER LIKE A RADIO AND DOES A LITTLE DANCE/SHIMMY WHEN HE’S SINGING

AND IF HE REALLY FOCUSES HE CAN CAUSE THE ORIGINAL INSTRUMENTAL TO PLAY IN THE BACKGROUND SORTA LIKE DARK’S RINGING

#markbop #markiplier egos #ego headcanon #i love this a lot

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baolizhu-blog · 7 years

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Listen okay, au for @therealjacksepticeye’s Chase gets kicked out of his house and he rooms with @markiplier‘s Markibop and it becomes a sitcom where they get on each others nerves and it gets cuddly and sweet and also Bop cant talk out of his singing persona, Chase is the only one who can understand him

Oh also Each day Chase has a shirt matching his horrible depression--

｡ﾟ * ･ .☆ Commissions ☆ﾟ. * ･｡ﾟ

#chase brody #Markbop #mark bop #markiplier tv #chase bro average #bro average #jacksepticeye #markiplier #therealjacksepticeye #jacksepticart #markiplier egos #jacksepticeye egos #sketch

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artist-in-space · 7 years

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quietly blesses you for including such a good, happy bop in the egos comic

Haha thank you! I couldn’t not include him and his guitar eheh :D

#markbop

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kyuubikaiju-blog · 7 years

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Markiplier Ego Headcannons

Literally everyone has done this but... because I intend to start writing again, here's some headcannons for the world I'm starting to make that I'm open to debate on. Tell me what you think!

-MarkBop can only speak in a type of Simlish unless under severe duress. Otherwise, Bing, for some strange reason, is the only one who can understand him. Google can to a lesser extent, but that's usually due to the bot stressing him out until he just says what he needs to.

-Googleplier is frustrating on purpose. That's nothing new. But he does it for the sake of mean-spiritedness rather than any programmed directive or actual hate. His default jackassery extends to giving last minute guidance instructions (see here a short thing I wrote), incorrect or just plain absurd 'how-to's, combating Dr. Iplier's medical advice with WebMD diagnoses, and much more. However, he will reign it in in the presence of any of the resident reality benders. He understands self preservation at least. (Also, he is friends with the Doc, he just enjoys giving him a hard time and will genuinely help him when needed.)

-Speaking of Dr. Iplier, he was not a real doctor until the fandom believed him to be so. He was just an actor that the fans wrote doctor stories and headcannons about that one day stuck and made him capable of what he is now (healing, death clocks, need to share bad news, etc). His personality, however, is still the apathetic House MD archetype.

-King of the Squirrels is the resident Cloudcuckoolander. While it seems most days he's absorbed in his squirrel ruling world or just completely insane, he's actually capable of making very observant and generally startling statements about the world around him. And it's completely at random. One moment, he's smearing peanut butter on the board room wall, and the next he's telling an ego why the plan for domination won't work. Then he's right back to humming merrily and making a mess as if nothing happened.

-After watching ->this<-, Warcraftiplier is now an ego to me and I love him. He's a warrior, a good strategist, and a great leader, but his mannerisms and understanding of the current world seem to be lost in the past. This leads to him erring on being combative in the best of situations and difficult to understand due to how he speaks, but all the egos can agree that whatever side he's on during the snowball wars is the side that's always going to win. Google has taken a shine to him in his ability to rally others, but he disregards the bot due an aversion to technology. This does not dissuade him. (Dark also likes this ability about him and has tried to get him to persuade on his behalf, but the warrior seems too hard-headed to see the long game end goal and can’t find the glory in it.)

#i've never done one of these and wanted to share my thoughts #feel free to poke holes in anything #i love hearing others opinions #markiplier egos #kyuu's markiplier ego headcannons #markbop #googleplier #dr iplier #king of the squirrels #warcraftiplier #i like the name but i feel like there's a better one #his team was alliance but allianceplier does not work #lol

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strawberryamanita · 2 years

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When are we getting an actual full MarkBop album? RealTalk

#markiplier #markipliertv #markiplier tv

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nyan-bynary · 2 years

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we need a Markbop rendition of I don’t wanna be free, last goodbye and space was so cool I’ve decided

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lady-raziel · 4 years

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Hi, so, I got an ask from maybe the same person - hinting that it's a "MarkBop" song in that bit of audio. So, I guess words are probably irrellevant and we only need to figure out the melody?

hmm. i’ll need to go back and rewatch all of markiplier tv i think, particularly the intro and the ‘markbop’ bits

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illinoisadventures · 3 years

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youtube

Markbop is found here.

@oonessawness

#Youtube #ooc #ask #oonessAwness

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juju-on-that-yeet · 5 years

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Imperfect and Human Are We

Prompt: Whumptober Day 30, Recovery

Summary: MarkBop struggles with the temporary loss of his voice after the events of "Choke," and in a manner of speaking, so does Cameraman Jim after the events of "Silenced." Maybe Bop is just the person to help CJ start healing.

Warnings: Injury recovery, self-worth issues

Tagging: @peribloke @tired-eldritchhorror (ask to be tagged!)

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

MarkBop hates this.

One week ago, Bing brought him into Dr. Iplier’s clinic after he’d been strangled by a mugger. Apparently there’s nothing surgically that Dr. Iplier can do, and Bop just has to wait for his throat to heal on its own.

And that means no talking.

Not that he can, anyway. He’d lost his voice moments after he woke up from nearly suffocating to death and hasn’t yet gotten it back. Even if it comes back tomorrow, Dr. Iplier won’t let him talk until his throat is good and healed again.

It’s not that Bop is so upset about not talking. He knows a little bit of sign language, and Oliver gave him a notepad he snagged from the control room so Bop can write out more complicated sentences. He can still communicate with Bing and Oliver, still let Dr. Iplier know how he’s feeling.

But he hates not being able to sing.

Singing is what he was made to do. He was created to be a singer, and so he is. He listens to music nearly every waking moment, devouring albums like they’re candy and then listening to them again, over and over, until he knows every note. He only ever pauses the endless music to hum to himself, to tap the counter he’s sitting at, to draw out the earworm in his head by singing it. He’ll stay up all night, singing and recording until his throat hurts, and in the early hours of the morning he’ll crawl into bed with Bing and whisper love songs to his sleeping form until he falls asleep himself. If he can’t sing, then what else is there?

What else is there?

“What if I forget?” Bop writes on his notepad for Bing one day, too anxious to think through signing it. “What if I spend so long not singing I just…forget how?”

“You won’t forget, babe,” Bing reassures him, kissing him gently, “There’s no way you could forget how to sing. When your voice comes back it’ll be just like it was before.”

Bop wants to believe him, he knows Bing is right. Dr. Iplier has explained as much to Bop a few times already, reminding him that he’s a figment, and he can heal from anything. Reminding him that he was made to sing, and he could never lose that about himself. But Bop is afraid that every day he goes without singing is a day he loses muscle memory, breath control, skill. He might still be able to sing, but he’ll be out of practice and worse for it, won’t he? He fears gearing up to sing for the first time when his throat heals only for his voice to screech, to wobble when he wills it to be steady, to crack on high notes or fail on low notes.

But, even with all that anxiety in his head…he knows it could be worse.

Lightning apparently strikes twice at Ego Inc. because just a few days ago, Cameraman Jim was brought into the clinic with bruises, a black eye, and a crushed hand. Bop wasn’t there when he was admitted, but to hear Bim tell it, it was horrific. Poor CJ endured surgery on his hand to set the bones and remove the fragments that were too small to realign. His hand is bandaged, casted, immobile, leaving him with only one hand to sign with. Bop’s seen him after his surgery a couple times now during his daily check-ins with Dr. Iplier. Both times, Reporter Jim was there too, sitting on CJ’s bed with him and pressing his forehead to CJ’s, not speaking, just staying close.

Bop knows CJ’s left the clinic by now, probably healing the same way Bop is: One day at a time, hoping, wondering, fearing.

It’s confirmed when RJ approaches him one day, out of the blue.

“Music Jim?” he asks, “Can I, um, ask you for something?”

“Sure,” Bop signs, “What’s wrong?” RJ seems nervous, uncertain, to the point where Bop could’ve mistaken him for CJ had he not, well, spoke. The twins are practically impossible to tell apart without their differing personalities.

“It’s about CJ,” RJ says, “I mean, I know he got hurt and he has to get better, but…” He sighs, fidgeting. “But what happened really messed him up. More than his hand and his eye. He just…he won’t communicate at all. Not with me or Bim Jim or Doctor Jim or any Jim!” He hugs himself. “He could still sign okay with only one hand, and he could shake his head or nod or point to things, and I’ve tried to make him feel safe enough to speak but just…nothing works. He won’t do anything. I know he’s upset but I don’t – well, I mean, I kinda do know why he’s so upset.”

“Why?” Bop asks. He’s sort of forgotten that RJ prefaced this by asking for Bop’s help. He’s worried now, and curious, because he didn’t hear much about what happened to CJ, but what he did hear wasn’t good.

“Because the guys who hurt him…they…” RJ’s voice gets quiet. “When I scared them off, one of them called CJ the r-word, and I think…I think they said a lot of bad stuff to him while they were beating him up.” RJ sniffles. “And I think that’s why they broke his hand, because he was probably signing to them, and they must not’ve…not’ve liked it.”

Bop doesn’t know enough sign to convey how horrified he is by that knowledge. It must show on his face, because RJ nods in acknowledgement.

“It’s not the first time people have been rude to him,” RJ continues, “But no one’s ever been so cruel, and it’s never…” He whimpers. “It’s never happened when I wasn’t there.”

Bop fumbles with his notepad to write It wasn’t your fault as fast as he can manage. RJ sighs when he reads it.

“I know that, I guess,” he mumbles. “Bim Jim keeps telling me that. And he’s right, and you’re right, I just…I’d feel better if I could get CJ to communicate with me.” He brightens a little as he looks at Bop. “That’s why I came to you.”

What can I do?? Bop writes, hoping his face conveys his confusion accurately. It must, because RJ actually smiles a little.

“Well, what happened to you was a little similar, right?” RJ asks. “I mean, it was some cruel human who hurt you, and you got hurt somewhere important to you. I was thinking you could relate to him, and maybe help him out of this.”

Bop considers. It stings a little to be reminded of the reason for the notepad he’s writing on, but he knows RJ doesn’t mean anything by it. And maybe RJ has a point. Maybe CJ feels like Bop does: Gutted, purposeless, drifting, begging for the future and fearing it in the same breath. From what apparently happened to him, it wouldn’t be surprising. And Bop likes the Jims; they’re weird and goofy but sweet, and they keep asking to report on Bop’s latest covers and song releases, even though Bop is far too nervous to go on camera. If he really can help CJ, he wants to at least try.

“Okay,” Bop signs, and RJ immediately lights up.

“Thank you, thank you, Music Jim!!” he exclaims. He hugs Bop, a gangly long-limbed hug that’s tighter than Bop would’ve expected, before jumping back to bounce with excitement. “CJ’s in Bim Jim’s greenhouse!”

Bop nods and can’t help giving RJ a pat on the head before he goes.

Bop’s been to the greenhouse himself a few times, and he’s not surprised that CJ’s there. It’s a beautiful space, full of green and growth and light shimmering in from…somewhere. The greenhouse isn’t on the roof or even the top floor, yet natural light streams in through the ceiling anyway. Bop always shrugs it off as one of Ego Inc.’s weird-yet-convenient magical quirks. When he steps inside, the place is as bright as ever, the plants are glittering with water drops. The room is misty and humid, but it doesn’t take long to find CJ. He’s looking at a huge bundle of violet chrysanthemums. His hair is damp, there’s a plastic bag beaded with water over the cast on his hand. He’s probably been in here for a while.

Bop approaches him, making like he’s looking at the chrysanthemums, too. CJ’s eyes flick to him, but he says nothing and continues to stare at the flowers. He doesn’t smile. There’s bags under his eyes. Bop’s heart aches to see how bad he looks. He takes a deep breath and turns to CJ, catching his attention.

“Hey, CJ,” he signs. “How are you doing?”

CJ looks at him but doesn’t respond. Not a nod, a head shake, a furtive glance, nothing. No wonder RJ was so upset, if this how CJ’s been acting. Bop takes out his notepad.

I’m guessing you’re not doing great, Bop writes, showing CJ the notepad after. CJ makes the slightest sound, a huff of breath out his nose, as if to say yeah, obviously. But it’s something, at least. Bop smiles, a little sheepish but happy for a response.

Yeah, I know, but I heard about what happened to you. Bop cringes as he writes, remembering what RJ told him, comparing it to the cast on CJ’s hand and the thin, yellowed ring still around his eye. I’m sorry. That sounds horrible.

CJ frowns, lips pursing like he’s holding back a reaction. He seems like he wants to look away but doesn’t want to be rude.

The moment stretches long and uncomfortable. But Bop keeps looking at CJ, and CJ keeps looking at Bop. Maybe CJ is tired of staying silent and closed-off, or maybe Bop came at the right time, or maybe Bop somehow said the right things. But CJ lifts his good hand, hesitant.

“You got hurt, too,” he signs, “How is it not being able to talk?”

Fortunately, Bop can read sign better than he can use it, and CJ’s questions rings loud and clear.

It really sucks, Bop admits. I’m still afraid I won’t be able to sing right when my voice comes back, even though everyone tells me not to be.

CJ nods, considering, before raising his hand again. He lowers it, biting his lip. He finally raises his hand and replies, still apprehensive, but once he starts he can’t seem to stop.

“Why can’t I just talk like normal people?” he asks, fingers shaking, “You can’t talk because you’re hurt. I don’t have any excuse. My voice box works but I can’t use it. RJ keeps telling me that those guys who hurt me were wrong, that I’m not stupid or weird because I can’t talk. And I know if I asked him why I can’t be normal he’d say I’m fine how I am or that I’m normal for me or something, but I just…” His hand pauses in the air for a moment. What Bop thought were misty droplets on his cheeks might actually be tears. “I don’t want to hear that. I just hate that I’m not normal. I hate that I need my hands to talk and one of them is broken. I hate how I feel broken.”

Bop feels his eyes tear up. He stares at his notepad, unsure of how to respond for a long moment.

I feel pretty broken right now, too, Bop finally begins, Being silent sucks. It feels so hard to get a word in sometimes, it makes me feel like I’m disconnected from people. This house is so loud, everyone’s so loud, and I love it, but I love it less when I can’t be loud, too. It’s like it swallows me up.

CJ’s eyes are wide and glittering as he reads, like Bop is speaking to his deepest thoughts. Maybe he is, for all Bop knows. Bop smiles gently as he continues writing.

But it’s not all bad, he continues, I feel like I’m better at listening lately. Not that I was bad before, but it comes easier now. It’s easier to focus because I’m not talking or singing to myself all the time. And I know, really know, who my friends are. The ones who look to me in the conversation and give me a chance to communicate. It’s hard to talk with people, but not with Bing and Oliver. They don’t talk over me or through me, they still keep me in the rhythm. I think there’s a lot of good in being quiet, as long as you have people you can still make yourself heard around.

CJ whimpers, wipes his eyes with his good hand before replying.

“I wish I could talk. All the time.”

Maybe you will one day, Bop writes, You’re still young compared to most of us. Maybe you’ll get enough confidence to talk all the time. But even if you don’t, you’ll still have all your other ways of talking and interacting with the world that people like me don’t, that we don’t even know about. I’m gonna go back to talking all the time and be a worse listener and bad at focusing again, but not you. He grins. You’ll still have all this cool stuff going on. It’s hard not being normal, but it’s fun, too. Plus, being normal is hard sometimes, too. Being a person can be hard. We’re all just people. We’re all weird here, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

CJ nods. He still looks sad, but he seems to be gathering himself.

“Maybe part of it is that I can’t film right now,” he admits, fingers slow. “With my hand like this, I can’t even hold a camera. I already tried shooting one-handed with my smaller cameras but I just can’t do it. I wouldn’t feel so bad if I could just…just…”

Do what you were made to do? Bop writes. He shows it to CJ, sees him duck his head with the slightest embarrassed smile, before he continues. I get that. It’s really hard. But I’m sure Doc’s told you that your hand will heal completely and eventually it’ll be like it never happened. That’s what he told me about my throat. He sighs. It’s hard to believe, but we have to trust him. He knows what he’s talking about. We just have to get through this. I think it’d be easier for you to get through this if you actually tried to communicate with people a little. He lightly, playfully shoulder-checks CJ, who’s come to stand beside him to read what he’s writing. CJ smiles again, a little bit broader.

“Yeah,” CJ signs. He looks away from Bop, back to the chrysanthemums. “I’m not really used to not being able to share an experience with RJ. He doesn’t know how I feel right now, he doesn’t know what I’m thinking, when he usually…just does. It sounds weird in words, but I like not having to worry about that. I like that he knows me so well. But he doesn’t know what I’m going through now, he wasn’t there when I got hurt, and he can’t…figure out all this stuff.”

So tell him!! Bop writes, animated, and CJ actually giggles when he reads it. He’s your brother, he loves you, he just wants to help you be okay. He’s the reason I came to talk to you in the first place. Bop grins. Maybe he knows what you’re feeling right now better than you think.

CJ nods. He smiles at Bop, a full, sunny smile, and his eyes sparkle. He hugs Bop, not as tight as RJ did but just as haphazard. This time, Bop has enough time to hug back. For a long moment, all is quiet, quiet without the internal noise of communication, only the dripping of water throughout the greenhouse and the hum of the fans. The sun somehow shines through the ceiling onto the pair, dappling the floor around them, and the flowers are as bright as ever, those purple chrysanthemums standing proud.

“Thanks,” whispers CJ, so quiet that Bop almost doesn’t hear it.

Bop’s jaw drops and his heart swells. CJ’s never spoken to him before. Excitement courses through him but he’s determined not to ruin the moment. He only hugs CJ tighter in response. When they finally pull away, they smile at each other, each elated but a little awkward. They don’t sign or write anything more, and nothing more is needed. CJ only waves goodbye, still smiling, before practically bouncing out of the greenhouse, no doubt to find RJ. Bop waves after him and sighs to himself, happier than he’s been since he got hurt in the first place.

He lingers in the greenhouse for a while in front of those purple chrysanthemums, just enjoying the moment.

#whumptober2019 #no.30 #markbop #markiplier jim #jim twins #kristin says stuff #fanfic #my writing #markiplier #markiplier fanfiction #no one's gonna read this but idc #i'm finishing whumptober and you can't stop me

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