Presentable Liberty - A Mini Fan Fiction by Oosh

He doesn’t remember getting home.

He doesn’t remember finishing the game.

He doesn’t remember saying bye to The Grumps. 

He doesn’t remember anything except the feeling of loss and hopelessness.

Mark lay on his sofa and let out a sigh, pressing his thumbs into his temples as he tried to address the chaos in his head. Thousands of questions were gathering like a tornado, whirling through the deepest parts of his brain. He sits up, and ruffles his hair. ‘Maybe I should have cut it shorter’ he muttered to himself.  He coughed and walked to the fridge and grabbed one of the beers he’d hoarded for the next Drunk Minecraft series.

He gently placed his phone on the dining table. It had been a few hours now since the video had uploaded. Presentable Liberty. He shuck his head as memories flickered though this damaged consciousness. 

He doesn’t remember uploading it.

The fans sat. They sat for an hour and watched. At first they were amused by this strange little indie game. Then they were confused. Then distraught. Then beyond anything. They lived a game through a man many consider their idol and saw him question them. 

It was part of the act. Some said.

Mark wouldnt really think that Others muttered Would he?

He didn’t know what he was thinking. He just got up. Strode over to the front door and locked it. 

A week past. A week of silence. 

The fans sat. They waited. They worried. They stopped. They fought.

The Drunk Minecraft reserve was gone. A bottle pyramid now dominated the dining room table. Mark stood in awe of his achievements. He even gave himself a round of applause before throwing the last bottle in the middle of the pack. The smashing resinated through the apartment. Mark closed his eyes and let the sharp echoes flood his ears. The silence had been deafening. 

The glass settled and the silence was broken once more. A note glided underneath Marks front door. He tip toed around the beach of glass and picked up the envelope. 

It was crisp and white. The front has black typewriter ink which simply read ‘Heroes’ Mark looked through the peep hole in his front door. No one. He tore the top of the envelope and pulled out the paper which nestled inside.

‘You’re still there aren’t you?‘ The note read.

'Funny’ Mark thought. 'Of course I am. I’m right here.’ He tossed the paper aside and began to make his way back to the kitchen.

Another note.

'Mark?' 'YES?’ He shouted. He ran back over to his door. The pressed his eye on the peep hole. No one. He banged on the door with the palm of his hand 'YES?! HELLO!? I’M RIGHT HERE! CAN YOU HEAR ME?’ He turned and rested the back of his head against the door. He began to tap it slightly as his eyes closed. Another note brushed his shoeless feet. He spun around and glared in the peep hole. No one.

'Its awfully quiet without you.’

Another

'Sorry we didn’t come sooner’

Another 

'We didn’t want to disturb you. But…’

'But what?’ Mark muttered. 'But what…’ he whispered again. He gently placed the notes on the cabinet next to his front door. 'God. I’m sorry.’ He muttered into his hands as his wiped the small tears off his cheeks.

Another

'You don’t have to be sorry.’

Another

'For theres nothing to be sorry for.’

Another 

'Mark. We are here' The note read. Marks blurry eyes scanned the paper over and over.

Another.

'We are beside you' He read out loud. His voice breaking and hands shaking. He slumps to the floor, pressing his head against the floor desperately waiting for the next note to be posted.

A dark shadow came close to his eye. He picked it up and leant against the door. Delicately he lifted the lip of the envelope, and lifted the thin piece of paper from within. 

'We exist’ it read simply. He held the note close to his heart and sighed. Another note glided into his hand that rested on the floor. It was the same as the others, yet somehow it felt different. Mark didn’t want to open it. He didn’t want to destroy it. An envelope of hope. Proof that he’s not alone. It was more than just a piece of paper holding another inside. It was a symbol. A sign that his community were the greatest in the world. For so long Mark had been the stable point in so many lives, and he’d cracked. A tiny little indie game had cracked him, and this tiny little envelope had glued him back together. 

He ironed the envelope out with his fingers, stood up, and carefully placed it in his back pocket.  He looked at the devastation of this apartment.  He unlocked the door and took the key out of the lock. Shoes on. Hoodie on. He left the apartment and went to the office.

The fans sat. The fans saw a note. The fans opened up the black envelope with a pink moustache embossed on the front. They carefully opened. They read. And read. They held it close to their hearts and smiled.

’ I exist to. Thanks to you. And theres nothing better to do with your life than live it. Now lets live it together. Forever' 

I love re reading this. I’m still proud of it all these years later. 🥰

If you haven’t watched Marks play through of Presenatable Liberty I urge you to do so. It still resonates with me now.

Omg I love!! Well done!!

Thank you sweetie. ☺️

Presentable Liberty - A Mini Fan Fiction by Oosh

He doesn’t remember getting home.

He doesn’t remember finishing the game.

He doesn’t remember saying bye to The Grumps. 

He doesn’t remember anything except the feeling of loss and hopelessness.

Mark lay on his sofa and let out a sigh, pressing his thumbs into his temples as he tried to address the chaos in his head. Thousands of questions were gathering like a tornado, whirling through the deepest parts of his brain. He sits up, and ruffles his hair. ‘Maybe I should have cut it shorter’ he muttered to himself.  He coughed and walked to the fridge and grabbed one of the beers he’d hoarded for the next Drunk Minecraft series.

He gently placed his phone on the dining table. It had been a few hours now since the video had uploaded. Presentable Liberty. He shuck his head as memories flickered though this damaged consciousness. 

He doesn’t remember uploading it.

The fans sat. They sat for an hour and watched. At first they were amused by this strange little indie game. Then they were confused. Then distraught. Then beyond anything. They lived a game through a man many consider their idol and saw him question them. 

It was part of the act. Some said.

Mark wouldnt really think that Others muttered Would he?

He didn’t know what he was thinking. He just got up. Strode over to the front door and locked it. 

A week past. A week of silence. 

The fans sat. They waited. They worried. They stopped. They fought.

The Drunk Minecraft reserve was gone. A bottle pyramid now dominated the dining room table. Mark stood in awe of his achievements. He even gave himself a round of applause before throwing the last bottle in the middle of the pack. The smashing resinated through the apartment. Mark closed his eyes and let the sharp echoes flood his ears. The silence had been deafening. 

The glass settled and the silence was broken once more. A note glided underneath Marks front door. He tip toed around the beach of glass and picked up the envelope. 

It was crisp and white. The front has black typewriter ink which simply read ‘Heroes’ Mark looked through the peep hole in his front door. No one. He tore the top of the envelope and pulled out the paper which nestled inside.

'You’re still there aren’t you?' The note read.

'Funny’ Mark thought. 'Of course I am. I’m right here.’ He tossed the paper aside and began to make his way back to the kitchen.

Another note.

'Mark?' 'YES?’ He shouted. He ran back over to his door. The pressed his eye on the peep hole. No one. He banged on the door with the palm of his hand 'YES?! HELLO!? I’M RIGHT HERE! CAN YOU HEAR ME?’ He turned and rested the back of his head against the door. He began to tap it slightly as his eyes closed. Another note brushed his shoeless feet. He spun around and glared in the peep hole. No one.

'Its awfully quiet without you.’

Another

'Sorry we didn’t come sooner’

Another 

'We didn’t want to disturb you. But…’

'But what?’ Mark muttered. 'But what…’ he whispered again. He gently placed the notes on the cabinet next to his front door. 'God. I’m sorry.’ He muttered into his hands as his wiped the small tears off his cheeks.

Another

'You don’t have to be sorry.’

Another

'For theres nothing to be sorry for.’

Another 

'Mark. We are here' The note read. Marks blurry eyes scanned the paper over and over.

Another.

'We are beside you' He read out loud. His voice breaking and hands shaking. He slumps to the floor, pressing his head against the floor desperately waiting for the next note to be posted.

A dark shadow came close to his eye. He picked it up and leant against the door. Delicately he lifted the lip of the envelope, and lifted the thin piece of paper from within. 

'We exist’ it read simply. He held the note close to his heart and sighed. Another note glided into his hand that rested on the floor. It was the same as the others, yet somehow it felt different. Mark didn’t want to open it. He didn’t want to destroy it. An envelope of hope. Proof that he’s not alone. It was more than just a piece of paper holding another inside. It was a symbol. A sign that his community were the greatest in the world. For so long Mark had been the stable point in so many lives, and he’d cracked. A tiny little indie game had cracked him, and this tiny little envelope had glued him back together. 

He ironed the envelope out with his fingers, stood up, and carefully placed it in his back pocket.  He looked at the devastation of this apartment.  He unlocked the door and took the key out of the lock. Shoes on. Hoodie on. He left the apartment and went to the office.

The fans sat. The fans saw a note. The fans opened up the black envelope with a pink moustache embossed on the front. They carefully opened. They read. And read. They held it close to their hearts and smiled.

’ I exist to. Thanks to you. And theres nothing better to do with your life than live it. Now lets live it together. Forever' 

I love re reading this. I’m still proud of it all these years later. 🥰

If you haven’t watched Marks play through of Presenatable Liberty I urge you to do so. It still resonates with me now.

Markiplier is 60 years.

Just speaking the truth.

6 years ago!! Wow I feel old. Also happy that this is still true.

(This is from my other account btw)

What if...

….Mark entered the room you are in. Right now. Just came in all like…

who needs to know why? We ask too many questions. Just accept it.

You’re welcome

What if...

…we actually got an real Anti and Dark collab. Like together. In the same room. Intense music. Dim lights. Suspense. Action. Tension. Neither speak. The camera flickers and switches between them. The music break. The camera lowers. Dark lets out a deep bellowing laugh. 

‘I. Beat. You’ he smirks. 

Anti flips the table and storms out. Flinging letters everywhere. Dark just sits in the darkness and chuckles to himself

Scrabble. They’re playing scrabble.

One of my favourites I ever wrote. You’re welcome.

What if...

…I just left this here; and you guys let it sink it.

You realised that yes this is a gif of Mark saying these words, but if you turned to a fellow fan they would be saying them too. These are the words that resonate through the community. Our war cry. This is why we are awesome. This is why some of us are still here. This is why some of us smile. Because we have people who care. Even if you don’t think you do. You have someone who adores you, and never wants you to leave

This. This will always be important. Even after all these years.

What if...

…Darkiplier is only called Darkiplier because he’s done one terrible and disgusting act that cannot be forgiven?

He’s pro Pineapple on Pizza. 

Blimey! Where did this one come from!! I often wonder how I managed to come up with these. Obvs some better than others. I’d give this 6/10.

Presentable Liberty - A Mini Fan Fiction by Oosh

He doesn’t remember getting home.

He doesn’t remember finishing the game.

He doesn’t remember saying bye to The Grumps. 

He doesn’t remember anything except the feeling of loss and hopelessness.

Mark lay on his sofa and let out a sigh, pressing his thumbs into his temples as he tried to address the chaos in his head. Thousands of questions were gathering like a tornado, whirling through the deepest parts of his brain. He sits up, and ruffles his hair. ‘Maybe I should have cut it shorter’ he muttered to himself.  He coughed and walked to the fridge and grabbed one of the beers he’d hoarded for the next Drunk Minecraft series.

He gently placed his phone on the dining table. It had been a few hours now since the video had uploaded. Presentable Liberty. He shuck his head as memories flickered though this damaged consciousness. 

He doesn’t remember uploading it.

The fans sat. They sat for an hour and watched. At first they were amused by this strange little indie game. Then they were confused. Then distraught. Then beyond anything. They lived a game through a man many consider their idol and saw him question them. 

It was part of the act. Some said.

Mark wouldnt really think that Others muttered Would he?

He didn’t know what he was thinking. He just got up. Strode over to the front door and locked it. 

A week past. A week of silence. 

The fans sat. They waited. They worried. They stopped. They fought.

The Drunk Minecraft reserve was gone. A bottle pyramid now dominated the dining room table. Mark stood in awe of his achievements. He even gave himself a round of applause before throwing the last bottle in the middle of the pack. The smashing resinated through the apartment. Mark closed his eyes and let the sharp echoes flood his ears. The silence had been deafening. 

The glass settled and the silence was broken once more. A note glided underneath Marks front door. He tip toed around the beach of glass and picked up the envelope. 

It was crisp and white. The front has black typewriter ink which simply read 'Heroes’ Mark looked through the peep hole in his front door. No one. He tore the top of the envelope and pulled out the paper which nestled inside.

'You’re still there aren’t you?' The note read.

'Funny’ Mark thought. 'Of course I am. I’m right here.’ He tossed the paper aside and began to make his way back to the kitchen.

Another note.

'Mark?' 'YES?’ He shouted. He ran back over to his door. The pressed his eye on the peep hole. No one. He banged on the door with the palm of his hand 'YES?! HELLO!? I’M RIGHT HERE! CAN YOU HEAR ME?’ He turned and rested the back of his head against the door. He began to tap it slightly as his eyes closed. Another note brushed his shoeless feet. He spun around and glared in the peep hole. No one.

'Its awfully quiet without you.’

Another

'Sorry we didn’t come sooner’

Another 

'We didn’t want to disturb you. But…’

'But what?’ Mark muttered. 'But what…’ he whispered again. He gently placed the notes on the cabinet next to his front door. 'God. I’m sorry.’ He muttered into his hands as his wiped the small tears off his cheeks.

Another

'You don’t have to be sorry.’

Another

'For theres nothing to be sorry for.’

Another 

'Mark. We are here' The note read. Marks blurry eyes scanned the paper over and over.

Another.

'We are beside you' He read out loud. His voice breaking and hands shaking. He slumps to the floor, pressing his head against the floor desperately waiting for the next note to be posted.

A dark shadow came close to his eye. He picked it up and leant against the door. Delicately he lifted the lip of the envelope, and lifted the thin piece of paper from within. 

'We exist’ it read simply. He held the note close to his heart and sighed. Another note glided into his hand that rested on the floor. It was the same as the others, yet somehow it felt different. Mark didn’t want to open it. He didn’t want to destroy it. An envelope of hope. Proof that he’s not alone. It was more than just a piece of paper holding another inside. It was a symbol. A sign that his community were the greatest in the world. For so long Mark had been the stable point in so many lives, and he’d cracked. A tiny little indie game had cracked him, and this tiny little envelope had glued him back together. 

He ironed the envelope out with his fingers, stood up, and carefully placed it in his back pocket.  He looked at the devastation of this apartment.  He unlocked the door and took the key out of the lock. Shoes on. Hoodie on. He left the apartment and went to the office.

The fans sat. The fans saw a note. The fans opened up the black envelope with a pink moustache embossed on the front. They carefully opened. They read. And read. They held it close to their hearts and smiled.

’ I exist to. Thanks to you. And theres nothing better to do with your life than live it. Now lets live it together. Forever' 

One of my favourite stories I wrote.

It’s also where ‘Thank you for existing’ was born. Take a read if you haven’t or read again if you have.

Oosh out

THANK YOU FOR EXISTING

What if...

…Darkiplier actually sucks at being scary

Another classic!! This one still makes me chuckle.