#myth mark

- He can come off as bold. He normally speaks his mind and doesn't like trying to sugarcoat anything.

- Despite being 100% cat, he commonly gets mistaken as a panther due to his size and intimidating look.

- Mark never really has a father figure until he met Mario. Ever since they met, Mario has always (but secretly talked with others but adopting Marquinhos)

- Used to constantly question his sexually (He was straight when he was younger, but due to some issues with his ex and trying to figure himself out he's questioned himself ever since then) Mark knows Mickey is questioning himself and he loves to tease him on that.

- He's 47 years old, and Mickey constantly calls him old and teases him, despite being 45.

- Marquinhos is the kind of guy to not really celebrate the holidays. However, due to Mickey, he's always made sure Mark has at least come to a few.

- His nationally is portuguese. He loves to flirt and tease in portuguese (he's only pulled this trick out when Mickey is pissing him off)

- Has already lost 3 out of his 9 lives. He doesn't like to talk about his previous lives.

Kittycup! (Marquinhos X Cuphead)

Have some stories because I haven't posted in a bit.

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The boardroom at WishUpon Studios buzzed with chatter. Papers were spread across the long table, digital screens flickering with charts and concept art. Bugs leaned back in his chair, tossing a carrot between his hands; Sonic was tapping his foot impatiently, and Jessica was elegantly sipping her coffee while reviewing some notes. Mario, ever patient, sat beside Felix, who was half-asleep but trying to look awake. Oswald had his ears folded back in mild annoyance at how long this meeting had gone on, and Pomni was nervously scribbling in her notepad. At the head of the table sat Mickey, arms crossed, eyes sharp and restless. He was supposed to be running this meeting smoothly, but he couldn’t focus while Mark wasn’t there. Everyone else had shown up on time, even Sonic, but Mark was still down in his lab. The longer Mickey waited, the more his irritation built, until finally he slammed his palm on the table.

“I’ll be right back,” Mickey muttered tightly, his tone leaving no room for questions. He stood up, buttoning his jacket, and stalked out of the room before anyone could say a word. Oswald groaned and leaned toward Mario. “Lemme guess he’s goin’ after Marquinhos again?” Mario sighed softly. “Mamma mia… probably.” Down in the lab, the hum of machinery filled the air. Sparks flew as Mark welded, a focused gleam in his dark green eyes. His tail flicked rhythmically as he concentrated, ears twitching every so often at the subtle whirring of fans. He wore his protective goggles, sleeves rolled up, small streaks of soot on his fur and he looked both exhausted and in his element. The sound of heavy footsteps made his ears perk. Before he could even turn around, Mickey’s voice cut through the hum. “Mark! The meeting started fifteen minutes ago!”

Mark flinched but didn’t look up. “I told ya earlier, I can’t leave this yet, Mick, I have to finish this,” he said, keeping his tone level. “This piece here? If I don’t finish the weld properly, it’ll be a fire hazard. I’ll join in when I can, I'm sorry but I told you I would be late.” But Mickey wasn’t in the mood to listen. His jaw tightened. “The others are waitin’. You can’t keep bailin’ on meetings just because you wanna play with your toys.” Mark’s ears flattened. His tail stopped moving. “It’s not a toy, Mickey. It’s part of the energy stabilizer for-” “Yeah, yeah, for whatever project you’ve been hidin’ away in here for weeks kitty cat,” Mickey interrupted sharply. He stepped closer, frustration flashing in his eyes. “You act like the whole place would burn down without you for ten minutes!” Mark turned to glare at him. “If you keep distractin’ me, it just might!”

That just made Mickey scowl harder. His hand slipped into his pocket, pulling out a cigar half-burned, still smoldering from earlier. Without thinking, he took a drag and exhaled the smoke directly toward Mark. Mark immediately coughed and turned his head away, ears folding back in irritation. “Mickey!” he hissed, voice rough. “You know I hate when you blow smoke at me!” “Yeah, I know,” Mickey said, smirking despite the tension. “Maybe it’ll get ya movin’.” That was the last straw. Mark’s grip slipped, and the heavy welding tool clattered down landing squarely on his foot. “OW!” Mark yelped, stumbling back and clutching his foot. The tool hit the floor with a clang, a faint scorch mark forming on the lab tiles. The smell of burnt metal filled the air as a small puff of smoke rose from the half-finished invention, the delicate structure cracking where the weld had stopped.

Mark just stood there, breathing hard, ears low, tail lashing. His fur bristled faintly in agitation. “...Perfect,” he muttered bitterly, looking at the ruined device. “Just perfect.” Mickey’s smirk vanished instantly. “Ah- Mark-” Mark held up a hand, voice low but cold. “Save it, Mick.” He sighed heavily, limping slightly as he took off his gloves and set them on the table. “Guess I’ll go to your meeting after all. No point finishin’ this now.” Mickey’s expression softened with guilt, but the damage was done. Back upstairs, when Mark entered the room, everyone looked up. Mario blinked. “Mark? You made it after all!” Mark forced a small smile, rubbing his neck. “Yeah… sorta had a change of plans.” He didn’t look at Mickey, who had quietly followed behind, visibly uncomfortable.

Jessica noticed the tension immediately, the faint soot stains on Mark’s fur, the singed smell, the stiff way Mickey avoided eye contact. She crossed her legs and raised a brow but said nothing. Sonic leaned over to Pomni and whispered, “Oof. Someone had a rough time in the lab.” Mark took a seat between Mario and Jessica, quietly setting down a notepad. He didn’t say much, only offered short responses when addressed. He mostly spoke to Mario, who tried to lighten the mood with small talk, and to Jessica, who gave him a knowing look but didn’t press. Oswald eyed the two from across the table, his gaze flicking between Mickey’s rigid posture and Mark’s silent simmering. He could tell something had gone down. By the time the meeting resumed, the room felt heavier. Mickey tried to focus, but his guilt gnawed at him. Every time he glanced at Mark, he noticed the faint way the feline flexed his foot, the smudge of soot on his cheek, the quiet way he avoided his gaze.

Mark didn’t glare, didn’t snap, didn’t even sigh but that calm silence said more than anger ever could. The boardroom was tense, papers shuffled nervously, and the hum of the ventilation system filled the pauses between voices. Mickey sat stiffly at the head of the table, arms crossed, cigar smoldering lightly in one hand. Mario and Sonic tried to follow along with the reports, Pomni scribbled notes meticulously trying to keep up with everything, Jesscia kept glancing between everyone nervously, and Oswald sat back, ears flat, silently observing the tension. Dandy cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses as he pushed a report toward the center of the table. “I wanted to bring up something serious: The Blot,” he began, voice unusually solemn. “Recent reports indicate there’s been an increase in those infected. The situation is worsening.” A heavy silence fell over the room. Even Sonic’s foot-tapping slowed. Mario’s eyes darkened as he processed the news.

Mark, sitting with his tail curling tightly around his chair leg, suddenly spoke up. His tone was sharper than usual. “And what exactly are you and Dyle doing to help with this?” His dark green eyes were hard, but the underlying tremor in his voice betrayed something more than anger. Dandy blinked, flustered. “I-I’ve been coordinating with a full team of researchers… but progress is… slow. It’s not easy.” Mark slammed a clawed hand lightly on the table, the sound echoing sharply through the room. “Slow? You have a full team! Researchers, assistants, supplies! This doesn’t look like slow progress, it looks like you’re not even trying!” Mario shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing exactly why Mark was so agitated. He kept his voice calm, trying to diffuse the tension. “Marquinhos, breathe… I understand why you’re frustrated, but-” “I’m sorry but I don’t care! Dandy all your focusing on numbers and protocols while people are suffering!” Mark snapped, standing and letting his tail lash behind him. His fur bristled, a clear sign that his temper and fear were spiraling together. “Honestly I care! You don’t know what it’s like watching someone… anyone… suffer and not be able to help them fully… even if there is someone close to you…”

Oswald remained emotionless but he knew what Mark was trying to say if it wasn’t clear. Dandy’s face went pale, but he raised a hand defensively. “Mark, I am trying! We’re doing everything we can-” “You’re not!” Mark barked, claws out, tail lashing. His chest heaved as his dark green eyes burned into Dandy. “I know you have a team! I know what resources you have! And yet all I see is excuses! There’s people I care about, dying slowly… and you’re giving me… just words instead of results…” For a moment, the room was frozen. Everyone was silent, unsure how to react to the raw, open anger Mark was displaying. They had never seen this side of him. Not like this. Not so exposed. His claws retracted slightly, but his voice retained the edge of anguish. Mario shifted again, gently resting a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I understand, Mark. Really, I do… but maybe step out for a bit. Calm down. I’m sure Dandy didn’t mean-”

Mark shook him off roughly, dark green eyes narrowing. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry we have the best resources going to Dandy and Dyle for medical resources…there are people out there suffering because of this disease, I know I haven’t shown exact care for this topic but I feel like we can do more than just testing people…” “Marq…” Dandy’s flowers slightly drooped as he understood his words. “I see where you’re coming from but at this time… that’s everything we can do as of now…” “Right… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to talk like that Dandy… I think I need to take a moment to reflect…” Mickey, already visibly tense, jumped up. “Aser, you’re NOT leaving!” he growled, voice low, but his frustration turned physical. “Mr.Mouse I think it’s best if we let him-” Mickey turned towards Mario and grabbed Mario by the collar, pulling him forward with force. “Mickey!” Sonic barked, springing to his feet. Bugs lunged simultaneously, grabbing Mickey’s arm and pulling him back. “What in the world are you doing?!” Bugs shouted.

Pomni and Jesscia immediately rushed to check on Mario, who looked stunned but unharmed. Dandy sat frozen, mouth slightly open, eyes wide in disbelief. “He… he just- he tried to- physically grab Mario?!” he muttered, voice trembling. Mark, tail whipping and ears back, stepped between them, claws out. His voice was low and dangerous. “Back off…” Mickey froze, eyes wide, a flush rising to his cheeks. “I-” “I said, back off.” Mark’s tone left no room for argument. The sheer intensity of his gaze made Mickey recoil. Mark didn’t wait for a response. He turned sharply, ears flat, tail flicking irritably, and stormed out of the room. The sudden departure left the room even heavier than before. The meeting limped forward in silence after that. Oswald and Sonic tried to regain some normalcy, but everyone was aware that Mark’s outburst had shaken the dynamics. Dandy, especially, sat quietly, his mind racing.

Later, after the meeting ended, Dandy found Mark alone in one of the quieter labs. He approached hesitantly, hands clasped together. “Mark… I… I don’t understand,” he said softly. “Why do you care so much? Why does this… The Blot… matter to you so much? I’ve never seen you do this with any medical matter before.” Mark looked up, dark green eyes weary but steady. “Because… I have it, Dandy.” His voice was quiet, almost brittle. Dandy froze. “You… what?!” His hands went to his chest. “You… you have the blot?” Mark nodded slowly. “Yes. But only Mario knows. No one else.” Dandy’s face went pale, a mix of shock, guilt, and fear flickering across his features. “Oh… my… I had no idea…” Mark’s tail curled around him as he looked down at his claws, exhaling slowly. “That’s why I push so hard. You don’t see me really complain much in front of the Stars, but every time it gets worse, I… I feel it. I can’t just sit and watch.” Dandy swallowed hard, voice trembling slightly. “I… I understand now. I didn’t know… I never realized how much this affects you… I’m sorry. Truly.” Mark’s gaze softened slightly, though the tension in his body remained. “It’s not just about me, Dandy. It’s about everyone… but I guess I just… I can’t hide it anymore.” Dandy nodded slowly, the weight of the revelation sinking in. “You don’t have to hide it from me,” he said quietly, voice filled with genuine concern.

Mark gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod, the first hint of calm in hours. Mark exhaled slowly, his tail curling lightly around his leg as he regarded Dandy. His claws were tucked in, and his posture had softened. “Dandy… I want to apologize,” he said quietly, voice low but steady. “I shouldn’t have shouted or yelled at you. I didn’t mean to be hurtful or disrespectful. I just…” He trailed off, glancing toward the floor. Dandy shook his head, a small, relieved smile forming. “No, Mark. I understand. I can see how much this… all of this… matters to you. And I appreciate your honesty.” Mark nodded, letting out a quiet breath. The tension in his body eased slightly. “Thank you… I’ll try to handle it better next time.” Before the conversation could continue, a shadow fell over them. Mark glanced up and saw Mickey standing there, arms crossed, ears back slightly, the ever-present glow of a smoldering cigar in his hand. His posture was defensive, but he was clearly trying to appear tough. Dandy cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh… I think I’ll… excuse myself,” he said, stepping back. “You two… take care of things.” With that, he hurried away, leaving the two alone.

Mark’s eyes immediately narrowed as he turned to Mickey, tail flicking behind him. “Mickey… we need to talk. Now.” Mickey tilted his head, smoke curling from his cigar as he smirked. “Oh? And what exactly do you want to say, huh?” “You laid hands on Mario,” Mark said, voice low but firm, eyes burning with controlled fury. “Don't ever physically handle him. Not ever. That’s crossing a line.” Mickey’s smirk faltered just slightly. He felt guilty, yes, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, he took a slow drag of his cigar and blew the smoke straight at Mark, the acrid scent curling around the feline. Mark flinched, nose wrinkling in disgust and anger. “Are you serious?” he growled, claws briefly unsheathing. With a swift motion, he grabbed Mickey’s cigar and stomped it into the floor, grinding it out. Mickey’s eyes flared with anger. “Hey! That’s mine!” he snapped, ears flattening. Mark’s tail lashed behind him, voice low and dangerous. “You’re lucky I didn’t burn more than just that, Mickey.”

Mickey’s pride and temper flared. He stepped closer, grabbing Mark by the scarf, tugging him forward so their faces were just inches apart. “You’re going to stay in line, got it?” he hissed, voice low but sharp. Mark’s tail bristled, and his ears twitched. A deep, feline growl rumbled from his chest, startling Mickey slightly. “Don’t push me,” Mark warned, claws faintly extending, eyes glowing with restrained heat. Mickey blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the raw intensity. Then, muttering under his breath, he released Mark and straightened, brushing off his hands as if nothing had happened. “Fine,” he said, voice cool but edged with simmering frustration. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Mark standing there, scarf slightly askew, tail slowly curling back down. Mark exhaled slowly, feeling the familiar mix of irritation, disbelief, and… something else he couldn’t quite name.

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Hope you enjoyed the read :)

Also... @toonetowne made SCARMOUSE!!!

- The reason he was given his last name (Aser) was due to his parents wanting happiness for the rest of his life, despite the fact he hasn't seen his parents ever since his 1st life, he isn't sure why he bothered to keep his last name.

- He has to wear a wrist/arm sleeve due to past injuries. It's not noticeable since the sleeve is dark black color like his fur.

- His usual sleepwear is a gray tank top paired with whatever kind of pants he's wearing at the moment. He also keeps his sleeve on while he's sleeping.

- He's insecured about his boldness to others.

- Mark has insecurities about his scars [The one Mickey gave on his throat & another on his left hand from a person trying to "off" Mickey.

- He doesn't really have a thing for music (This is due to his sensitive ears)

- His dream job would likely be a Artisan/Craftsman he's skilled enough with mainly having limited amounts of material and still being able to make things!

-Marquinhos Pet peeve is messing up his own work. This happens a lot more than he thinks.

Art is by this SILLY GOOBER!!!! >:]

This art is by @ultimateregret (they also made the Scarmouse art)

Also- I need help with coming up with a new ship... for fun :3

Sheba, Jessica, Pomni aren't added to the pull due to Marquinhos being not straight. Sonic and Mario aren't added to the poll because Mark is Sonic’s adopted big brother and Mario is the adoptive dad of Marquinhos.

Art is by Ultimate_Regret :]

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The meeting had dragged longer than most. By the time it ended, the room carried that familiar aftertaste of fatigue, chairs shifting, quiet sighs, people stretching as they stood, conversations starting up again in low tones as everyone began to filter out. Papers were gathered. Notes tucked away. Responsibilities already creeping back in. Mario was one of the first to step out, adjusting his cap as he spoke to Sonic, the two already moving into a different conversation entirely. Nearby, Jessica Rabbit and Pomni lingered just long enough to exchange a few quiet words before heading off together. Others followed. But not everyone lingered. Marquinhos didn’t stay for small talk. The moment things wrapped, he was already moving. He was quiet, focused, his mind clearly somewhere else entirely. Back to his lab. Back to his work.

His pace was steady, purposeful. He barely registered the conversations around him as he stepped into the hallway. “Marquinhos.” The voice cut through just enough to make him slow. He stopped. Turned slightly. Dyle approached from a few steps behind, one hand tucked casually into his pocket, the other hanging loose at his side. “Ah, what brings you here Mr.Timesly?” “Do you have a minute?” Dyle asked. Marquinhos studied him briefly. “Well now that depends,” he replied. “For what exactly?" Dyle gave a small shrug. “How about curiosity.” A slight tilt of his head. “I heard from Mario that you’ve been working on something new.” Marquinhos glanced down the hall toward his lab. Then back at Dyle. A small pause. “I am… If you want I can show you,” he said. Dyle nodded once. “Great. Lead the way.”

The walk was quiet. When they stepped into the lab, the atmosphere shifted immediately. The hum of machinery filled the space. Soft electrical buzzes. Low mechanical whirs. The faint glow of monitors and devices scattered across workstations. It wasn’t chaotic. But it wasn’t pristine either. It was used. Marquinhos moved through it effortlessly, weaving between tables and equipment without hesitation. Dyle followed, slowing his eyes, scanning, taking in details piece by piece. “…You’ve got a lot going on in here,” Dyle noted. “Well when you're constantly having to work on projects, you kinda have a lot going on,” Marquinhos replied. He stopped at a workstation near the center. Cleared a small space with one hand, sliding aside tools and loose components before reaching for something placed just off to the side.

“…This is the one I’ve been focusing on,” he said. He set it down. Dyle stepped closer immediately. The device wasn’t large, but it was dense. Compact wiring layered tightly. Small conduits running into a central core that pulsed faintly, even at rest. It wasn’t something thrown together. It was deliberate. “So what am I looking at?” Dyle asked, leaning in slightly. Marquinhos rested his hand lightly against the side of the device. “It’s an emergency power grid,” he said. Dyle’s brow lifted. “…Backup generator?” Marquinhos shook his head. “Well… Not exactly.” He tapped the side of the core. “This doesn’t purely rely on the main system at all.” Dyle straightened slightly. “… So independent?” “Yeah. Completely.” “…So if the city loses power… completely-” “This bad boy kicks in,” Marquinhos finished.

Dyle looked back at the device, his interest now fully engaged. “That must’ve not been easy to design,” he said. “Well that was the easy part, but it’s not finished,” Marquinhos replied. Dyle gestured toward it. “…What’s wrong with it?” Marquinhos paused. “…Well I mean… It kinda works.” Dyle blinked. “Then what’s the problem?” Marquinhos glanced at him. “…It works too well… The power output spikes,” he continued. “Hard to stabilize.” Dyle leaned in closer, studying the wiring more carefully now. “…And you’ve tested it before… correct?” Marquinhos flexed his hand slightly.. “I mean… technically yes I have...” There was a brief pause. “…Multiple times.” Dyle tilted his head. “And I guess it’s not supposed to fry you?” Marquinhos’ expression didn’t change. “…I’ve been electrocuted more times than I can count while trying to get this to work.” Dyle stared at him for a second.

Then let out a short, surprised breath. “…You’re serious.” “Yeah...” Dyle looked back at the device. This time, but now with a different kind of respect. “And you’re still pushing forward with it?” “Yes, as it’s a part of my job as WishUpon’s only Originator. Mickey has made me aware that this needs to be worked on constantly,” Marquinhos said. That answer landed heavier than expected. Dyle nodded slowly. “You know… If you stabilize this,” he said, gesturing to the core, “you’re not just covering outages.” He glanced up. “I can’t believe you're trying to supply the entire Town, do you think you could ever make one for Gardenview?” Marquinhos gave a small nod. “Well, once I figure it out, and when it decides to stop trying to fry me into deep fried food,” he paused briefly before continuing. “I could make one for Gardenview, but not sure if I’ll ever be able to get it there.” Dyle leaned back slightly, crossing his arms now. “You forget Mr.Aser that I’m a conductor with the Health department's supplies, I would only need you to come along with me at some point and you could possibly make one for Gardenview,” he said.

“But again… This progress you have made so far is seriously impressive.” Mark brushed it off at first. “N-No… trust me, if Mickey wouldn’t make me work on other things, I could just focus entirely on the grid and make it work.” “Are you kidding! With someone with your talent I’m sure no one would be able to figure this out without help.” Dyle said as he grinned slightly. Out in the hallway Mickey had been walking past. At first he wasn’t paying attention. Just another step. Another turn. Then movement caught his eye. He glanced inside. And stopped. His gaze settled on the two of them. Dyle Timesly, leaning in slightly. Engaged. Interested. And Marquinhos. Focused. Explaining. Then he heard it. “But again… This progress you have made so far is seriously impressive.” Dyle said. The words were clear. Unfiltered. But when he heard Mark speak. “N-No… trust me, if Mickey wouldn’t make me work on other things, I could just focus entirely on the grid and make it work.”

Mickey’s expression didn’t change immediately. He stayed neutral. Still. But his hand. The one holding his cigar. Tightened. Just slightly at first. The paper crinkled faintly between his fingers. Inside Dyle continued. “You know… If you stabilize this,” he said, gesturing to the core, “you’re not just covering outages.” Marquinhos nodded. “Well, once I figure it out, and when it decides to stop trying to fry me into deep fried food, I could make one for Gardenview, but not sure if I’ll ever be able to get it there” Outside Mickey didn’t move. Didn’t step in. He just stood there. Watching. His jaw tightened just a fraction. His grip tightening further. The cigar bending. Crushing. The ember dimmed as it collapsed under pressure. A faint crack. Barely audible. But enough. And still. He said nothing. He just stood there. Watching someone else admire Marquinhos.

The conversation in the lab had reached its end. Dyle took one last look at the device on the table, his eyes tracing the wiring, the core, the structure of something that clearly had far more thought put into it than most people would ever realize. “Just remember you’ve got something solid here,” he said, more quietly this time. Marquinhos gave a small nod. “Thank you Timesly. But it still needs work.” Dyle huffed lightly. “…Everything does.” A brief pause settled between them. Dyle straightened his jacket for a moment before rolling one shoulder slightly before stepping back. “Alright then. I’ll let you get back to it.” Marquinhos nodded again. “Okay then, you take care.” Dyle turned, heading toward the door. “Marquinhos?” he added, pausing just before stepping out.

Marquinhos glanced up. “Try not to fry yourself before you finish it.” A faint, almost dry exhale left Marquinhos. “I’ll try not to.” That earned a small smirk from Dyle. He then stepped out into the hallway. And stopped. Because standing just a few feet away he saw Mickey. Leaning slightly to one side. Still. Quiet. Watching. For a brief moment neither of them said anything. Dyle’s expression shifted slightly.. Mickey’s face was neutral. Carefully so. “Mr.Timesly… You’re good to go,” Mickey said casually. His tone was light. Too light. Dyle studied him for half a second longer. “Mhm… Right Mr.Mouse,” he replied. He took a step. Then another. But he didn’t go far. Something about the way Mickey stood there. The way his voice had landed. It didn’t sit right. So instead of walking off completely Dyle slowed. And lingered just past the doorway.

Out of sight. But not out of earshot. Inside the lab Mickey stepped in. The shift was immediate. The easy tone dropped. “So… Whiskers, do you wanna explain something to me?” Mickey’s voice cut through the room. Sharp. Marquinhos turned slightly, caught off guard by the sudden change. “What?” Mickey didn’t ease into it. “...Gardenview.” Marquinhos’ posture shifted slightly as he turned over to Mickey. “…What about it?” Mickey’s ears angled back slightly. “I heard you’re offering them support… and without my permission.” Marquinhos didn’t hesitate. “…Yeah.” That answer alone set Mickey off. “…Yeah?” Mickey repeated, his voice rising. “Just like that?” Marquinhos frowned slightly. “…Dandy needs the help.” Mickey stepped closer. “Mr.Aser that’s not your call.” The words were sharp. Cutting. Marquinhos’ expression hardened just a fraction. “Well it’s my work,” Mark argued.

“And I’m the mayor, but more importantly your boss,” Mickey snapped back immediately. Outside the door Dyle stilled. He hadn’t expected that tone. Inside Mickey’s voice didn’t lower. “If you think for a second that you’re handing out support, resources, anything, that goes through me and I don’t have the resources to really help Gardenview right now.” Marquinhos held his ground. “Excuse me but you make me fund my own damn work, so don’t think this hardly affects you.” “Don’t you talk to me like that! You don’t get to just give away your damn service to anyone in need,” Mickey shot back. The air tightened. “…I know you care about the people in Gardenview… I get it but you need to remember that it isn't your responsibility.” Marquinhos’ jaw clenched slightly. “I know… but it's still not fair to the people in Gardenview.” Mickey’s eyes narrowed. “…And until I say otherwise-” He stepped closer. “-Dandicus doesn’t need your help.” The name landed heavy.

Marquinhos’ ears flicked back slightly at the tone. There was a pause. A tense one. “…Alright,” Marquinhos said. Short. Controlled. “…I won’t move forward with it.” The shift was immediate. Mickey’s posture loosened. His tone softened. Just like that. “…Good,” he said, like nothing had happened. He exhaled lightly, rolling his shoulders as if releasing tension. “That’s all I needed to hear.” The edge was gone. Completely. “…I know you’re doing good work,” Mickey added, almost casually. “Just- run it by me next time, yeah?” Marquinhos didn’t respond right away. He just nodded once. Outside the door. Dyle stood frozen. Because that- That wasn’t just frustration. That wasn’t just authority. That was something else. The way Mickey had snapped. Then switched. Like flipping a switch. It didn’t line up. Didn’t feel right. Dyle’s expression tightened slightly as he stepped back fully into the hallway.

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I hope that you've enjoyed the story folks!

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The meeting room inside WishUpon was full. Not unusually loud but busy in that low, constant way that came with too many personalities sharing one space. Papers shuffled. Chairs creaked. Sonic tapped a pencil too loudly. At the head of the table sat Mickey, posture neat, expression controlled but there was a tightness in his shoulders that hadn’t gone unnoticed. Around the table Mario leaned forward with his arms crossed, listening. Sonic spun a pen between his fingers, already looking half-bored. Bugs lounged back casually, one ear flicking lazily. Oswald the Lucky Rabbit had his shoes up on the table, until Mickey shot him a look and he slowly lowered them. Felix scribbled something down, occasionally glancing up. Jessica Rabbit sat poised, legs crossed, watching everything. Pomni fidgeted slightly in her seat. And further down Marquinhos sat slouched back, arms crossed, clearly uninterested in whatever was coming next.

Mickey tapped his pen lightly against the table. “…Alright,” he said, drawing attention. “Before we move on… there’s something we need to address.” That alone shifted the room. Mario glanced up. Sonic stopped spinning his pen. “What’s up?” Mario asked. Mickey flipped a page in his notebook. “…Mr.McDuck is coming by later today,” he said. “He wants a full check-in. Operations, progress… everything.” A collective reaction followed. Sonic groaned. “Ugh, him?” Bugs smirked slightly. “Heh, guess someone’s countin’ coins again.” Jessica sighed softly. “He’s thorough, nothing wrong with that hon.” “Annoyingly thorough,” Felix added. Across the table, Oswald leaned back immediately. “…Yeah, no,” Oswald said flatly. Mickey didn’t even look at him yet. “Oswald, you’ll be-” “Nope,” Oswald cut in, shaking his head. “Not doing it.” That earned a few glances. Pomni blinked. “Wait- you can just say no?” “Watch me,” Oswald muttered.

Mickey finally looked up. “…You didn’t even let me finish.” “Don’t need to,” Oswald replied. “I already know where this is going and I'm not doing it.” Sonic snorted. “He’s not wrong.” Mickey’s eye twitched ever so slightly. But instead of snapping. He closed his notebook. Then quickly opened it again. Flipping back a few pages. That caught attention. Felix leaned forward slightly. “What’re you checking boss?”Mickey didn’t answer right away. His eyes scanned. Then… He tapped something. “…Every time McDuck’s visited for progress,” he said slowly, “it’s always been me and Marquinhos handling it.” That shifted the room. All eyes moved instinctively towards Marquinhos. Who didn’t even look up. “…Yeah? No one else bothers to spend time with him,” he muttered. Mickey ignored that. He closed the notebook. Reached for a spare notepad. Wrote something quickly. Then slid it across the table. Right to Oswald. “You’ll be handling it brother,” Mickey said. Oswald stared at the paper. Then at Mickey. “…You’re joking….”

Mickey said nothing. Instead. He lifted his hand. And pointed. Directly at Marquinhos. “…You won’t be alone, Since Mr.Aser has done this just as much as me, he’ll be guiding you on how this works.” That got an immediate reaction. Marquinhos’ ears twitched. His head lifted. “…No way.” Flat. Immediate. Jessica raised a brow slightly. Sonic leaned forward, suddenly interested. “Oh, here we go…” “I’m not doing that again,” Marquinhos said, sitting up now. “Have any of the other Stars handle this.” Oswald scoffed. “Yeah, I’m with him.” “Good,” Marquinhos shot back. “Feeling’s are at least mutual.” “Likewise,” Oswald replied. Pomni looked between them nervously. Mickey’s patience snapped. His chair scraped loudly as he stood. The room went quiet instantly. Before anyone could react. He walked straight over to Marquinhos. Quick. Controlled. And then his hand shot out. Grabbing him by the scarf. “H-Hey!” The sudden motion yanked Marquinhos forward slightly in his seat. Pomni flinched. Sonic’s eyes widened. “Easy there!” Jessica straightened slightly, watching closely.

Mario frowned, already shifting in his seat. “Come on Mr.Mouse isn’t it unfair you're making him help?” Mickey however didn’t listen, he leaned in, voice low. “You’re going to help him.” Marquinhos’ eyes narrowed, ears pinned back. “No way,” he said, just as firm. “I’m not helping unless you give me a good reason to, besides I have blueprints that need to be done.” The tension spiked instantly. The room felt smaller. Tighter. No one spoke. Even Bugs sat up a little straighter now. For a moment it looked like neither of them would back down. Then Mario leaned slightly toward Mickey. “…Hey,” he muttered quietly. Just low enough that it didn’t carry. He whispered something quick. Something practical. Mickey paused. His grip didn’t tighten… but it didn’t loosen yet either. He exhaled. Slow. And let go. Marquinhos leaned back slightly, adjusting his scarf with a glare. Mickey straightened. “…Fine.” He crossed his arms. Then looked directly at Marquinhos.

“I’ll make you an offer then,” he said as he continued to look at Mark. “I’ll take you out for some dinner if you help.” That caught everyone off guard. Sonic blinked. “…Wait, what?” Bugs smirked. “Heh. Now you’re negotiating doc?.” Marquinhos narrowed his eyes. “…You’re serious.” “Completely,” Mickey replied. A pause. All eyes on Marquinhos. He looked away briefly. Thinking. Clearly annoyed. Clearly resisting. “…Fine,” he muttered finally. “But I’m not enjoying it.” Oswald groaned loudly. “Oh, this is gonna be awful… You better keep your mouth shut the entire time, cat.” “Excuse me? How about then you don’t mess it up for us,” Marquinhos shot back immediately. “Oh, I’m the problem all of the sudden?” Oswald snapped. “Absolutely you are!” Mickey raised a hand. “Enough both of you.” They both stopped. Mickey adjusted his sleeves, returning to the head of the table like nothing had happened. “…Good,” he said. “Then it’s settled.” But as he sat down. There was the faintest hint of a smirk on his face.

The front doors of WishUpon opened with a firm, deliberate push. In stepped Scrooge McDuck… coat neat, posture sharp, eyes already scanning everything with practiced precision. He didn’t waste time. His cane tapped once against the floor as he stepped further inside, gaze narrowing slightly as he took in the lobby. “…Hmm.” Then. He spotted him. Slouched in a chair off to the side, arms crossed, expression sour… Oswald the Lucky Rabbit. Scrooge adjusted his coat slightly and walked over. “Well now,” he said, voice carrying that familiar sharpness. “Where’s the mayor, lad?” Oswald didn’t even sit up properly. “…He’s Busy,” he muttered. Scrooge raised a brow. “Busy now?” Before Oswald could elaborate, Marquinhos stepped in. Clipboard in hand. Composed. Professional.. “Mr. McDuck,” Marquinhos greeted, voice steady despite the faint tension still lingering in his posture. “Welcome.” Scrooge’s expression shifted immediately. Recognition. Then a chuckle. “Well, well- there ye are lad,” he said, stepping forward and offering his hand.

Marquinhos took it. Firm handshake. “Good to see ye again,” Scrooge added. “Thought I might’ve lost my favorite guide.” Marquinhos gave a small, polite nod. “I’m glad that you could join us today sir.” Scrooge glanced past him briefly. “…And the mayor?” “He’s tied up at the moment,” he explained. “Asked us to handle things until today.” Scrooge hummed. Quiet. Measuring. Then. He leaned slightly closer, voice dropping just a bit. “…And why exactly are you here instead Rabbit?” he asked, subtle but pointed. Oswald spoke up from behind them. “Because I’m the producer,” Oswald said, finally sitting up just enough. “I can be just as helpful as the mayor.” A pause. He added, with a slight edge: “…And his pet.” The word hung there. Sharp. Intentional. Marquinhos’ ears flicked back slightly. His eyes shifted. Just enough to shoot Oswald a look Cold.Warning. But he didn’t say anything. Scrooge, meanwhile, simply nodded. “…Aye,” he said thoughtfully. “I see.” Whether he approved or not He didn’t show it. Instead, he tapped his cane once. “Well then,” he continued. “Show me what ye’ve been improving on since I've been gone.”

As the tour began. Mark took the lead. Clipboard in hand, posture straight, voice measured as he walked Scrooge through each section explaining processes, pointing out developments, making sure every detail was accounted for. Oswald? Trailing behind. Hands in his pockets. Clearly uninterested. At one point, Sonic zipped past in the distance. Somewhere else, voices echoed from other departments. But Mark stayed focused. Soon enough they reached his lab. The moment the door opened, the atmosphere shifted. Cleaner. More structured. Blueprints pinned carefully along the walls, workstations organized with precision. Scrooge stepped in slowly, eyes immediately scanning. “…Now this,” he muttered, “is more like it.” Marquinhos moved to one of the tables, flipping a page on his clipboard. “These are current developments,” he explained, gesturing toward several blueprints. “Ongoing improvements, refinements and efficiency upgrades.” Scrooge leaned in slightly, inspecting. “Hm. Not bad.” As Mark continued explaining, Scrooge's gaze shifted.

Down. To his wrist. The device there caught his attention immediately. “…And what’s that, lad?” Marquinhos paused slightly, then lifted his arm just enough to show it. “I call this the Xtransceiver,” he said. “It’s basically a communication device.” Scrooge raised a brow. “Oh?” “It allows direct communication between all the Stars,” Mark continued. “Faster response time, coordinated efforts, no delays.” Scrooge nodded slowly. “Efficient,” he admitted. Behind them. Oswald rolled his eyes. “…Yeah, yeah. We get it, kitty can make toys.” Mark didn’t even turn. But his ears flicked. Once. Oswald scoffed quietly then turned. And walked out of the lab. The door clicked shut behind him. Scrooge noticed. His eyes shifted briefly toward the door. Then back to Marquinhos. “…Not much of a team player, is he?” Scrooge remarked casually. Mark hesitated for just a fraction of a second. “He has his moments… I honestly don’t like him but after what he went through… even he deserves some peace,” he said evenly.

Scrooge hummed again. Not fully convinced. But not pressing. Instead, he tapped his cane lightly against the floor. “…Well,” he said. “Let’s hope you make up for it lad.” Mark straightened slightly. The lab felt somehow more settled after Oswald walked out. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made absence noticeable. His sharp eyes moved from one workstation to another, taking in every detail the organization, the structure, and the sheer volume of work laid out in careful precision. Blueprints lined the walls. Notes stacked neatly. Tools placed exactly where they should be. Nothing careless. Nothing rushed. This wasn’t just a workspace. It was maintained. “…Hm,” Scrooge muttered under his breath, stepping closer to one of the larger drafting tables. Behind him, Marquinhos stood with his clipboard, posture straight, though there was a subtle tension still lingering in his shoulders. Scrooge reached out, lifting one of the blueprints slightly. His eyes narrowed.

“…Detailed… you kinda remind of someone else lad,” he murmured. His gaze shifted again. Not to the table this time. But to Mark. More specifically. To his shoulder. To the badge pinned there. A small glint of recognition crossed Scrooge’s face. “…Now that’s new,” he said. Mark blinked once. “…What is?” “That,” Scrooge said, gesturing lightly with his cane. “Yer badge.” Marquinhos instinctively glanced down at it. “…I don’t recall ye wearin’ that before any of my visits lad,” Scrooge continued. There was a pause. Brief. “…I didn’t use to it but when we have someone as important as you coming, I try to honor WishUpon by wearing the badge,” Mark admitted. Scrooge hummed. “Well I don’t remember you ever wearing the badge in the past lad.” Mark went quiet as he looked away for a moment. Scrooge returned his attention to the blueprints. Flipping a page. Then another. His brows lifted slightly. “…Who made these?” he asked. Marquinhos didn’t hesitate this time. “I did, Mr.McDuck.” That got his attention. Fully. Scrooge straightened slightly, looking at him more directly now. “…You?” “Yes.”

There was no hesitation in his voice. No uncertainty.. Scrooge looked back down at the work in his hands. Then back at Marquinhos. “…These aren’t minor adjustments, lad,” he said. “This is foundational work.” Mark shifted slightly, setting his clipboard down on the edge of the table. “I was given the title of Chief Originator,” he explained. “After working as Mickey’s bodyguard for a few years in the beginning at my work with WishUpon.” Scrooge’s brows rose higher. “…Bodyguard?” he repeated. Mark nodded. “For a while now,” he said. “Then I transitioned into a development career… Mickey sorta just gave me the title without holding a vote, but I do what I can to try and help the people of ToonTown .” His eyes flicked briefly toward the blueprints. “I’ve held the position for years now.” Silence settled for a moment. Not uncomfortable… But heavy. Because Scrooge was thinking. His gaze moved slowly across the room again. The lab. The work. The details. Then toward the door. Still closed. Still no sign of Oswald returning. Then back towards Marquinhos.

“…Years,” Scrooge repeated quietly. There was a shift in his expression now. Subtle. But present. “…And yet,” he added, voice sharpening just slightly, “ye’re the one givin’ the tour still.” Mark didn’t respond immediately. Because there wasn’t really a good answer to that. “…Someone had to,” he said finally. Scrooge studied him. Longer this time “Besides, Pomni isn’t exactly comfortable in her position yet as a Star, and she’s still getting used to everything. Dandicus is currently busy with helping people in gardenview, and Mickey is busy…so that sorta just leaves me and Oswald,” “…Aye,” he said slowly. “I suppose so.” His cane tapped lightly against the floor. “…Strange,” he muttered. Marquinhos’ ears twitched slightly. “How so?” Scrooge gestured lightly around the lab. “With work like this,” he said, “and a title like that- ye’d think someone of yer status would be treated a bit better by the producer.”

That landed. Not harshly. Not loudly. But directly. Marquinhos’ posture stiffened, just slightly. His gaze dropped for half a second. Then lifted again. “…I’m fine where I am as of now,” he said. Even. Controlled. But not entirely convincing. He simply watched him for a moment longer. Taking in the tension. The restraint. The way he carried himself. “…If ye say so lad,” Scrooge replied. But the look in his eyes said otherwise. As Scrooge carefully set the last blueprint back on the table, the soft creak of the lab door signaled Oswald’s return. He stepped inside quietly, his usual slouched, disinterested posture still evident, though this time he paused at the threshold to take in the room. Scrooge, already eyeing the lab with his sharp, calculating gaze, didn’t immediately acknowledge that his attention remained on Mark. Marquinhos, sensing Oswald’s presence, straightened slightly and gestured toward the lab stations. “I’ll lead the tour from here,” he said calmly, his tone carrying a natural authority that made Scrooge nod in agreement. Oswald didn’t speak, simply falling into a loose shadow behind the cat, letting Mark guide the way.

As they moved through the lab, Scrooge’s cane tapped lightly against the floor. “Is Mickey almost done with his meeting?” he asked, voice carrying the weight of expectation. Oswald just shrugged lazily, as if the question didn’t concern him. “I’ll go check and see Mr.McDuck,” he said, stepping toward the doorway to leave. Scrooge blocked him subtly with the tip of his cane, leaning slightly forward. “No lad, Oswald. You’ll go see.” Mark froze, glancing down at the cane and back at Scrooge with a raised brow. “Why would he-?” Scrooge didn’t answer, letting the question hang in the air as he shifted his attention elsewhere. “Can I see what Bugs is up to? I’ve heard he’s been quite busy with making all sorts of tech.” Marquinhos nodded, guiding the way down a narrow corridor to the tech room. Inside, Bugs had just finished updating Toodles, who hovered quietly in the air, circuits softly whirring with light.

“Ah! Mr.McDuck!” Bugs greeted, walking down from a workstation with his characteristic grin. “Right on time I see!” He motioned to Toodles, who began to articulate updates in its precise mechanical voice. Scrooge leaned in, intrigued. “How was this made?” he asked, eyeing the floating device closely. Bugs waved a paw dismissively. “Well, he’s based on Mark’s original design. All I did was expand his hardware a bit and update him.” Scrooge’s gaze immediately shifted to Mark, studying the cat intently. “So… you built this?” Marquinhos’ ears twitched, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Yes. He was my project originally when I first became the Chief Originator. Bugs just improved the system without changing my core design.” Bugs leaned back casually, smirking. “Look at him- doesn’t even realize how much I upgraded him. All the credit is to both of us, kitty.” Scrooge tapped his cane thoughtfully. “Hm… impressive work, indeed. A mind like this running a project of that complexity… makes one reconsider who’s really steering the ship.”

Marquinhos merely nodded, letting Toodles continue its verbal updates, while Bugs stood back, clearly amused at how the presence of Scrooge and Mark together commanded the room. Mark and Bugs assisted, and Scrooge’s sharp gaze weighed everything in between. Oswald lingered at the edge, shrugging into his usual indifference, while Mark quietly maintained control of the tour, guiding the elder duck through the intricate world of his inventions and oversight. Minutes later Oswald returned to the lab, his steps dragging slightly, clearly still in a half-slouched, disinterested posture. He stopped in front of Scrooge, who was inspecting the last of Marquinhos’ displays, and cleared his throat. “Mickey’s ready to see you sir,” Oswald said bluntly. Mark handed his own notepad over to Mr. McDuck, the pages filled with meticulously organized notes from the lab tour. Oswald did the same, though his notepad was mostly blank with just a few scrawled words at the top. Without another word, Oswald turned and left, motioning for Marquinhos to follow.

Outside Mickey’s meeting room, Mark and Oswald waited in silence for a few moments. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Oswald leaned against the wall and started mocking the feline. “You really think he’ll listen to you?” Oswald sneered, his tone dripping with derision. “All this time, and you just sit there taking notes like some little assistant. Hardly impressive, you know. Maybe Mickey doesn’t even need you around.” Mark only stiffened, but before he could reply, the door swung open. Oswald instantly straightened, his smirk vanishing as Mickey stepped out, followed by Scrooge McDuck. “Tag along the both of you,” Mickey called over his shoulder to both of them, motioning for them to follow. Marquinhos and Oswald exchanged a glance and stepped forward. Scrooge tilted his hat, eyeing Oswald critically. “I noticed someone left during the middle of my inspection,” he said, voice sharp. Mickey’s eyes narrowed as he spun toward Mark, ready to yell. “Did you what-” he started, but froze as Mr. McDuck continued.

“No need to worry,” Scrooge said. “The whole time I was here, your… chief…” He glanced at Mark, “took down notes, listened carefully, and incorporated all my critiques. Very thorough.” Mickey’s gaze shifted to Mark, who gave a small, confident nod. Then Mickey’s eyes fell to the notepads. Mark’s was densely filled with neat, precise notes, diagrams, observations, and commentary on every corner of the lab. Oswald’s notepad, on the other hand, was almost completely blank. Mickey exhaled, a mix of relief and irritation crossing his face. “Of course,” he muttered, “the only one who did their job… was you.” He gave Marquinhos a small, approving nod. Scrooge, still observing, raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “I must say, this is far more than I expected. The lad has real talent.” After Scrooge McDuck had finished his tour and was preparing to leave, Mickey turned to Oswald with a determined look. “I need to speak with you alone,” he said firmly, motioning toward a quiet hallway. Scrooge, understanding the need for privacy, nodded politely. “I’ll keep Mr. McDuck company, then,” Mark said, taking a step forward to stay near the duck, his posture relaxed but attentive.

As Oswald reluctantly trailed behind Mickey, Marquinhos began walking with Scrooge to keep him entertained. “I have to say, Mr.Aser,” Scrooge said with a rare chuckle, “I’m impressed. You’ve clearly got everything running smoothly here. I can tell this place is in excellent hands with you helping.” He gestured toward the various workstations and blueprints. “And you… you seem to know every corner of this lab.” Mark tilted his head slightly, his feline ears flicking as he gave a polite nod. “Thank you, Mr. McDuck. I was assigned to oversee operations in the development department, and I’ve been keeping track of everything that I can.” Scrooge’s eyes twinkled with approval. “Hmm, a Chief Originator, are you? Seems like Mickey picked a capable lad.” Meanwhile, back inside, Oswald leaned against the wall, arms crossed and lips pressed into a tight line, his expression sour. He glared at Marquinhos like the cat had somehow stolen the spotlight. His dislike was obvious; he'd never had a good rapport with Mark but he was restrained, waiting for an opportunity to mock or belittle him.

Mickey, sensing Oswald’s tension, decided to act. He walked up, his hands on his hips, and without asking, grabbed Marquinhos by the scarf and gently pulled him into the meeting room. The sudden motion made Oswald straighten, startled. Mickey’s eyes narrowed as he blocked the door. Inside the meeting room, Mickey shut the door with a soft click and motioned for Marquinhos to sit. He pulled out the notepad Mark had filled during Scrooge’s tour and spread it open across the table. Every page was meticulously filled with observations, notes, and schematics.

“Walk me through this,” Mickey said, pointing to a section detailing lab operations and maintenance schedules. Mark explained each part carefully how he had monitored the workflow, kept track of each Star’s progress, and documented feedback. Mickey nodded thoughtfully, impressed by both the thoroughness of the notes and the clarity with which Mark spoke. When Mickey finally closed the notepad, he leaned back in his chair and fixed Marquinhos with a pointed look. “Did Oswald really leave halfway through?” he asked, voice calm but carrying the weight of concern. Mark gave a measured nod, his ears twitching slightly. “Yes. He walked out midway. I took over the rest of the tour and guided Mr. McDuck through the lab.” Mickey sighed deeply, running a hand over his face, a mix of exasperation and relief. “I jumped to conclusions too quickly… I shouldn’t have accused you without checking.” His shoulders relaxed as he offered a warm smile. “Next time, I’ll make sure Oswald actually does his job… He’ll handle him.”

A small smile flashes across Mark’s face, as his tail flicks lightly in response. “Thank you. I appreciate that sir,” he said, his voice calm but carrying subtle satisfaction at being recognized. Mickey stood, placing a hand on Mark's shoulder. “Alright, you’re free to go for now. But after work, I want you to meet me at my house. We’ll discuss where to go for dinner.” Mark’s ears flicked in acknowledgment. “Understood, sir. I’ll be there.” Mickey gave him a soft, teasing grin. “Good. See you later.” Marquinhos left the room, tail swishing just slightly as he walked away, feeling a sense of pride and trust for the first time that day. Oswald remained outside, lips pursed and arms crossed, glaring a little less now as he realized Mickey had clearly put his faith in the cat.

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I hate y'all so much for picking Unlucky :^ (Not really it was actually kinda fun writing this! :] I might do Kit-Clock next... maybe)