#sorry for the random voice analyses. i am not a professional i just think like this LOL

[bmpmp3]

LISTEN to this cover of an old MTV mashup of Toxic and Faint sung by utaite fuku_wa NOW

[animatedandroids]

The October Project #4

Erase Connor visits Markus.

You can find the other chapters available here.

“You really need a friend.” It was nothing but a passing statement from Gavin. A taunt to fly by his ears, never to be acknowledged.

But, for once, there was truth in his words.

That’s how Connor ended up standing outside of Markus’ mansion. It was a beautiful structure. Regal, colourful, artistic. Everything Markus was himself.

It used to belong to Carl Manfred before he passed. Connor knew little of him, about as much as any other vaguely famous figure in the city. Markus didn’t like to talk about his past, so he only heard the snippets he allowed him to hear. The small fragments of memories of a relationship he’d never understand.

The revolution had been brought to a close only two months ago. Connor hadn’t reached out Markus let alone thought about him, until the day he was called into Jericho and Markus regarded him with a friendliness that made his circuits chill and his eyes wander. He had a hard time being around him – he had a hard time thinking about him. All he saw was someone in front of him, standing at the edge of the platform, with a gun fixated on the back of his skull.

“You should come see me,” he had offered. He reached for his hand, kind and accommodating, and transferred an address to him. “I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon, if you accept.”

Connor accepted, because Connor was stupid, and maybe spending time with another android would be more preferable than spending time with Gavin.

Cool air smothered him when Markus opened the door. His temperature sensors flared at the sudden drop before steadying themselves. Markus gave him a onceover and brought a hand to his chin, rubbing the plastic skin gently. He was wearing casual clothes, a red shirt with jeans, nothing compared to the regal outfits he’d wear with the people of Jericho.

Connor extended his arm stiffly. “Hello.”

Markus pat it down in return. “No need for that,” he laughed. “You don’t have to be so professional.”

It was then that he realised what Markus had been looking at – his CyberLife suit. Excluding his Jericho disguise, it was the only article of clothing he’d ever worn. It never occurred to him that he could… wear other things. He smiled awkwardly.

“Well, come on in.”

If the outside of the mansion had been a sight to see, the inside was something else. It was neat and orderly, with complimentary colours and homely design, but the ornaments struck him as random. There was no rhyme or reason to them, seeing odd paintings on the walls, then entering another room to see a large, lifeless giraffe to his right. Simplistic piano music circled around the room like a flock of birds chirping at his ear.

“I haven’t cleaned the place up yet,” Markus explained upon seeing his expression. “A lot of it’s Carl’s – I just… haven’t had to heart to move anything.” He walked to the left to a large dining table, sporting a delicate teapot and two fancy cups, embroidered with silver. “Have you ever tried tea?”

“I’m not designed to –“

His voice trailed away when Markus held up a finger. He tipped the teapot and let a small amount of the liquid flood the bottom of a cup. He beckoned Connor closer and pushed it to the edge of the table. “Here. Try it.”

Connor watched him carefully, then slipped two fingers through the handle. The tea was warm and sweet, his body instinctively analysing the contents on its way down. It bubbled along his neck and pooled in his abdomen. He smacked his lips once while adjusting to the new sensation – it was nothing like the mournful history of blood or the silent sadness of thirium.

“How’d you like it?”

He regarded the cup and made a face. “I’m not sure. It’s difficult to describe.”

“It’ll come to you,” Markus said. “There’s a lot of things to discover, now that we’re able to.” He headed back to where the giraffe was, towards a small door. “I heard you’re still working with the police.”

Connor nodded. “I am. I’ve chosen to continue my work with Lieutenant Anderson.”

“That’s good. You’re good at what you do.”

The room that awaited him through the door was like stepping into a wonderland of paint, the right side of the brain expressed through thousands of canvases and brushes. Markus had turned around to watch him, seeking out his reaction, with his teeth showing and his eyes sparkling.

“I wanted to show you how to paint.”

After all that had happened, Markus wanted him to show him to paint? He moved to the right corner of the room, where a blank canvas was set and a pre-prepared palette with a cup of water balanced on the wooden platform below it. When Connor walked closer to it, he could see blue, red and yellow, hundreds of different shades all dotted on the surface.

Markus handed him a fine-pointed brush and it froze in his hand. It was strange in his palm, an unfamiliar object. Connor searched for guidance.

“Don’t look so lost,” Markus assured him. “Just paint the first thing that comes to your mind.”

Painting was like navigating through a blizzard, or crossing a precarious old bridge. There was no other option but to move forward, otherwise you’d fall through the planks, or get lost in the snow. You could never go back on the path you had originally taken. Connor found it frustrating, stroking the bright blue brush along the canvas, knowing he was unable to erase it, to correct his mistakes. It was so permanent. He took the point of the brush off the canvas when his lines failed to meet. He had been too lost in his pondering to focus on his programming.

He glanced at Markus for his judgement. He had a slight crease to his face; confusion.

“I’d like to start again,” Connor said.

Markus waited a minute to respond, looking over the imperfect circle. “You only made one mistake. Try to correct it.”

Connor pouted a little at that. He would rather start anew and produce a new, perfect circle to work with. He turned back to his mistake and centered his mind, allowing him to drift the brush along the edges of the circle, making it thicker and connecting the lines fluidly. He traced the insides with a hopeful yellow and the rims with an ominous red. He dabbed the brush into the water and began to blue the outer edges, making the red begin to wisp and reach out to the outer edges of the canvas.

Around the room, his simplistic product was overshadowed by the intricacy and detail of Markus’ work. Connor couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, but Markus was smiling at him. “I like it,” he said.

Connor placed the palette back against the canvas platform and faced him. “Why did you want me here?”

Conflict raised its ugly head in Markus’ eyes when an answer formed but he struggled to present it. In turn, Connor felt regret for asking, thinking he’d made a big deal of a small situation, spitting on the face of a friendly meeting.

When Markus finally spoke, dread plummeted to Connor’s core. He averted his eyes. “Simon saw you on the platform.”

Words failed to roll off his tongue, blocked by a thick wall. “I….”

Markus’ arms spread like wings, the feathers curling inwards as he moved towards Connor, an approaching blanket, netting him in. He walked towards him like he were a beast, but a frightened one, baring its teeth and threatening to flee at the first sign of quick movement.

“He said you pulled a gun… and you aimed it at me.” He spoke slowly and cautiously. “But then you put it back like nothing happened.” His stare prodded at Connor’s skull for an unheard sentence.

“But it wasn’t you, was it?”

And the dread crumbled like sand. Because when Connor forced himself to meet Markus once more, he saw a genuine sympathy and a real understanding, something he’d only seen in one other person. He stepped back from Markus’ arms but he couldn’t look away.

“I had to know for sure.” Markus continued. “I had to know that you’re one of us.”

“Am I?”

Markus pointed to his painting. It depicted the three colours an LED showed, with blue in the middle, shrouded by the red and yellow, forced into the middle of the two. It was the only bridge stopping them from connecting.

“That’s not CyberLife,” he said.

The painting was his. It wasn’t as bold as Markus’ and it wasn’t as sensitive as Carl’s, but it was his. It was Connor’s painting.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Markus placed a hand on his shoulder. “We can’t erase anything, but we can build on it. You’re not the deviant hunter anymore.”

Connor felt some solace in that.

[franklyshipping]

A much needed check-up ~ Markiplier and Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

I’m in a strangely productive frame of mind and I’m in LOVE with the idea of Dr. Iplier and Dr. HENRIK VON SCHNEEPLESTEIN working together and having a bit of a dynamic of care and stuff (can be perceived at platonic or romantic and it’s SFW for the CUTENESS) hope yalls enjoy x 😄

A sigh escaped the lips of the exhausted and over caffeinated doctor as he decided to lie on his own medical lounger, relishing in the peace and quiet of the empty consulting room. Dr. Iplier had been working non-stop since 5 am, tending to patient care, putting forward diagnoses and off loading results; not all of them good. He was about to let his eyelids fall when a high-pitched and familiar accented voice accosted his eardrums.

‘IPLIER? IPLIER VHERE ARE YOU?!’

The previously relaxed doctor sighed and smiled with a light grimace at the sound of his colleague and friend Dr. Schneeplestein, his constant energy both astounded and annoyed him at times.

‘I’m in here Schneeple!’

He called out and soon a flash of a white coat swept through his doorway, the neon-green haired man stood fidgeting with a wide grin.

‘Zhere you are my friend! I take it you are finished for ze day?’

Iplier rolled his eyes with a light smile.

'No I’m just lying on my own examination bench for the hell of it.’

He chuckled when Schneeple narrowed his eyes in a light glare.

'Ha ha ha, alvays so funny!’

Iplier felt his grin widening as Schneeple stepped foward, the latter sighed and folded his arms.

'Anyvay, I vos vundering if you vould like to accompany me to haf some vell deserved alchohol, I haf caused many an aneurism today and I need a pick-me up!’

Dr Iplier furrowed his eyebrows, his own arms folding as he spoke confusedly.

'Caused? Don’t you mean cured?’

Schneeplestein waved his hands as he stepped closer.

'Ah zay are ze same thing! So are you in doctor?’

Iplier sighed, he could feel his exhaustion spreading through him and he was well accustomed to how much alcohol Schneeple could intake, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up in his current state. He looked up with a light smile, but it was a smile of sadness and dejectedness.

'Nah, I’m not really in the mood Schneeple…’

Dr. Schneeplestein, for all his questionable medical abilities, could tell that his friend was off and he immediatly went to analyse. It didn’t take him long to see his friend’s exhaustion, and his sadness at his exhaustion. He stepped closer, his concern evident.

'Iplier, vhen vos ze last time you had a proper check-up yourself?’

Iplier sighed, he could see Schneeple’s concern and that only made him feel guilt; he was a doctor, it was his job to worry about others not vice versa. As a result he only shrugged in response.

'Zat decides it, lie back so zat I can check you over-’

'Schneeple there’s really no need…’

Schneeple cut him off by wiggling a disapproving finger and pushing him lightly so he was laying down, Iplier sighed and let him do so since it would probably be over quicker if he co-operated.

'Ah ah ah! Hush now, after all I AM a doctor…so zherefore I know vhat’s best!’

Schneeple chuckled as Iplier groaned at the copying of his words, something that the former did frequently to tease him.

'I said that like one time!’

'Shush now! Schneeple is vorking!’

Iplier pursed his lips as Schneeple grinned lightly, rolling on the appropriate gloves before performing all the standard tests; breathing capabilities, mobility and the like. Now it came to organs and the torso skeletal check, the final thing.

'Raise your arms please.’

Iplier did so as Schneeple rolled his shirt up, he smirked.

'Been vorking out have ve doctor?’

Iplier felt his cheeks heat up lightly as the other chuckled lightly, he turned his head away so he didn’t have to deal with his stupidly teasy face.

'Just get on with it.’

Schneeple chuckled again before moving to feel around Iplier’s ribcage, the owner of which had now bitten his bottom lip since the feeling of Schneeple’s fingers in that spot…well, let’s just say his nerves were heightened. Dr. Schneeplestein noticed this, mainly because he’d been hoping this would be the case; Iplier needed to relax, and now he had the appropriate means.

'You seem qvite tense, is zis spot painful?’

Iplier could only shake his head, for fear of his voice betraying him. Schneeple didn’t bother hiding his smirk as he leant over his friend, poised threateningly.

'No? Vell I guess I shall haf to dig in furzur for a diagnosis…’

True to his word Schneeple dug his fingers into Iplier’s ribs, thus causing Iplier to break out into a stream of cackling as he slammed his arms down over Schneeple’s hands; that didn’t stop his fingers wiggling in torturous earnest though.

'Yohohohohohohohou ahahahahahashohole!’

Scheeple tried to look offended but his gleeful grin took precedence as Iplier writhed beneath him.

'How DARE you insult a medical professional! Zis is a serious examination!’

Iplier giggled loudly at Schneeple’s reprimanding, and those got even louder when Schneeple wormed his way into Iplier’s sensitive underarms. The man’s kill spot.

'NAHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHEHERE!’

Schneeple used his dexterity malevolently to scratch and scribble in his victim’s hollows, his relentlessness brought tears to Iplier’s eyes.

'I’m sorry not vhere? Perhaps a prescription of anti-pschosis medication is in order-’

'SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHUHUP!!!’

Iplier blushed furthur at Scheeple’s amused cackle, even with his arms clamped down the torture was inescapable. He was squirming and struggling, but Dr. Schneeplestein was stronger that he looked. He withdrew one hand, the other still scratching ruthlessly in one hollow, and now used his free hand to experimentally flutter at the doctor’s ears. The reaction was priceless. A high pitched squeak preceeded a plethora of snorts and giggles from the heavily blushing man, already embarrassed from his vulnerability.

'Awwww, vhat cute noises you make! Does somevone haf sensitive little ears?’

'WHAHAHAHAHAT DOHOHOHO YOHOHOHOU THIHIHIHINK?!’

Schneeple grinned as he flicked and fluttered his fingertips gently and couldn’t help but look fondly upon Iplier’s wide smile and scrunched eyes; the sight spurring him to continue.

'From a medical pespective I’d have to say zat you do…’

Iplier yelped and scrunched his neck as Schneeple continued to take advantage of his sensitivity. It went on for several minutes, but all of that combined with the torment under his arm was almost becoming too much, well no it DEFINATELY was.

'PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T!!!’

Schneeple snickered fondly at the fact that he’d managed to reduce Iplier to a virtually incoherent mess, he wasn’t going to let him forget this for a LONG while. However due to the streaming tears and reducing lung capacity of his friend, he decided to let up as he removed his hands gently. Iplier curled into a ball and rapidly rubbed behind his ears to shun away the redidual tingles that festered there.

'I think I must diagnose you vith sensitive nerves, I regret to say zat I haf never seen a case as severe as yours befo-’

'Fuhuhuhuck yohohohou dihickwad.’

Schneeple cackled loudly as he disposed of the medical gloves and perched on the examination bench, he looked down at the recovering man with glittering eyes and a playful smirk in place. Iplier glared lightly as he sat up and ran a hand through his hair.

'Perhaps later.’

Scheeple smirked as Iplier sighed and shook his head with an exasperated smile, but it was happy exasperation rather than that of sadness or tiredness. His flush died down and he grinned lightly.

'You wish.’

Schneeple nudged his shoulder with a light glare before jumping to his feet again, always full of energy.

'How vould you feel about decaf and a lazy evening at my place? In my personal AND medical opinion I think zat you need it.’

Iplier looked up and down at the energetic man, this crazy, haphazard, dangerous…and kind man. Schneeplestein held out his hand and Iplier took it with a small smile.

'When you put it like that how can I refuse?’

He nearly yelped when Schneeple yanked him into a standing position and dragged him through the empty corridors rambling away about some such random topic. It was then that Iplier thought, perhaps he did have some medical skill after all.

okay but like i TOTALLY ship them, hope you enjoy and if you do i urge you to tell me and even send in requests cuz i’m happy to do 'em! luv yous x 😊