#quest mark

Also, art is by @emolly242 >:) and @dizzymonsters

The "Gallant" Gay & The "Perky" Pansexual

New quest!

In "Babtqftim" Mark's role was as a Acrobatics in Mickey's Circus before Ortensia’s passing, and during a business trip Mickey had to go and Oswald, Ortensia, Donald and Goofy peer pressured him to perform, he ended up having a ink attack during the middle of the show.

Before Mickey could come back, Mark ended up leaving the others. Afterward, during the gap before the story started, he became a mechanic (Why? Well, he worked as a mechanic before arriving in the Isle. Yes, Mark wasn't born in the Isle, so he had to learn the language to adopt)

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He was actually a part of Babtqftim before the Myth of the Machine.

Here's his design! Along with Mickey! Made by the great @mysticdreamiz :)

Art is by my bestie: @sad--crystals it was a Commission :〕

—————————————————————————————————The room was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of the moon outside their window. Crickets chirped faintly beyond the curtains, and the circus grounds were still for once. But Mickey stirred in his sleep, his body tensed beneath the blankets. Then, a sharp breath. A shudder. He gasped, bolting upright. Cold sweat clung to his fur as his heart pounded like a drum. His eyes were wide, darting around as if searching for something… or someone. He was alone at that moment. At least, he thought he was. Until a low sound. A rumble. Not threatening. Warm. Soft. A purr.

From beside him, Mark stirred gently, blinking open one half-lidded eye dark green, faintly glowing in the moonlight. Mickey’s breath hitched as Mark, without saying a word, carefully shifted and climbed halfway on top of him, draping his arm gently over Mickey’s chest. The feline’s purring grew louder, soothing. A low vibration against Mickey’s ribs. Mark looked at him softly and murmured, voice low and velvet-smooth: “I’m here, meu amor… I’m here.”

Mickey swallowed hard, blinking tears from his eyes. “Mark…” his voice cracked. “I-was back there again. Oswald was yellin’. You were gone. I was alone again -i-” Mark gently pressed his forehead to Mickey’s, purring still. “It was just a dream,” he whispered. “I’m right here. Not goin’ anywhere.” Mickey let out a broken laugh and sniffled. “You always say that now. And… I believe you. I do. But…” He paused, his small fingers gripping Mark’s shirt tightly. “…Can I ask you something?”

Mark nodded gently, sensing the change in tone. “…Why did you leave that night?” Mickey whispered. “You just… left. I never got to ask. You said it was personal. But you’re not alone anymore. So I-I wanna know…” Mark’s purring slowed… then stopped. Silence. For a long moment, he said nothing. His tail, usually flicking softly, lay still behind him. “…I didn’t think I’d ever have to explain it,” Mark said quietly. “But you deserve to know.” He slowly sat up, still close but more serious now.

“The night you went to talk to Barker… Oswald said we should still do the show. Said Barker wasn’t there, so it didn’t matter.” Mark’s voice turned slightly bitter. “Ortensia agreed. Donald, Goofy… they all said it’d be fine. They talked me into it. I didn’t want to I didn’t feel ready. But I didn’t want to upset anyone.” He looked down, fur bristling with old shame. “I did the act, Mickey. I gave them the best show I could. I smiled for the crowd. I jumped. I flipped. I climbed the rope.” He hesitated. “But… something went wrong. I lost my balance. The ink it surged.”

Mickey froze. “…The ink?” Mark looked up at him, expression heavy. “I have it, Mickey. The same ink illness Ortensia had.” His voice wavered. “I’ve had it for a long time. I didn’t tell anyone. Only Oswald, Ortensia, and Donald knew at first. It was manageable… but that night, I pushed too hard. My body gave out. I collapsed. Right there in the ring. Ink was leaking out of my eyes. Everyone saw.”

Mickey’s face crumpled. “No…” “I passed out,” Mark said softly. “And when I woke up… they were around me, saying sorry. But it was too late. I couldn’t face you. I thought if you saw me like that… you’d blame yourself. I couldn’t do that to you.” The tears finally slipped from Mickey’s eyes. His hands trembled as he gripped the blanket beneath him. Mark reached forward quickly. “Mickey-”

Mickey shook his head. “No-No, it’s not you. It’s just… I remember what she went through. The coughing… the ink in her lungs. The way she used to hold her stomach and shake and still pretend she was okay.” He sobbed quietly, shoulders shaking. “And now you eight years later, and I didn’t know. Marquinhos Izuri Aser... I-I should’ve seen something!” Mark, surprised by Mickey calling him by his full name, he'd gently pulled him close. “You couldn’t have,” he said gently. “I hid it. Because I didn’t want you to worry. I’m so sorry I kept it from you.”

Mickey’s arms wrapped tightly around Mark’s waist, burying his face into his chest. “I’m scared for you,” he mumbled. “I’m so scared…” “I know,” Mark whispered. “But I’m still here. And I’ll fight it… as long as you’re here too.” “…Can we just… cuddle?” Mickey asked in a tiny voice. “Please?” Mark gave a soft laugh warm, tender, purring again as he gently leaned down and wrapped the mouse in his arms. “Of course,” he whispered.

He curled around Mickey like a shield, gently grooming the top of his head with small affectionate licks before resting his chin between Mickey’s rounded ears. “You’re safe with me,” Mark said. “Always.” Mickey pressed close, sighing as the tremors in his chest slowly began to fade. Outside, the moon rose higher over the circus grounds. Inside, Mark and Mickey held each other in the dark, not perfect, not without pain but finally, together again.

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Something that's more light-hearted for y'all :) and here :]

—————————————————————————————————It was a perfect evening in downtown New-Ink City. The skies were a soft pink-orange, café lights blinked lazily from awnings, and street performers played smooth jazz on the corners. The gentle buzz of the city mixed with the hum of chatter and the occasional distant honk.

Mickey adjusted his little red bowtie as he walked beside Mark, their fingers intertwined. “This place has the best pie in the city,” he said with a smile. “Well… next to Minnie’s, but she only bakes on her birthday.” Mark chuckled, his tail flicking casually behind him. “You sure it’s not Goofy’s pie you’re defending?”

“He burned cereal, Mark,” Mickey deadpanned. They both laughed as they took their seats at a small outdoor café. The waiter, some rabbit with a notepad, and a confused look jotted their orders, then scurried away. The table was cozy, the light warm, and the conversation sweet. Mickey looked across at Mark and smiled, cheeks a little pink as he rested his chin on his hand. “Y’know... you clean up really nice.”

Mark smirked. “You always say that when I wear a shirt with buttons.” Mickey blushed harder. “Well... you pull it off!” Mark leaned in, eyes half-lidded. “Good. I wore it for you, remember?” Mickey looked like he was about to melt into his seat. He was about to respond when. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mickey the Modest… on a date, finally?”

Both of them turned toward the voice, and Mickey’s smile instantly dropped. Strutting toward them in a orange blazer, aviators pushed up into his slicked-back fur were none other than Mortimer Mouse. “Oh no,” Mickey muttered under his breath. “Not tonight…”

Mortimer sauntered up to the table like he owned it. “Didn’t expect to see you in a place like this. What’s the occasion? Finally, decided to upgrade from solo dinners Mick?” Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Mickey cleared his throat. “Mortimer, this is-”

Mortimer cut him off, eyeing Mark with a smirk. “Ha-cha-cha! Well, hellooo, gorgeous. And who might you be?” Mark blinked. Mickey immediately tried to jump in. “Mortimer, that’s-he’s!” But Mark held up a paw, that mischievous smirk already forming. He turned slightly in his chair, the golden lamplight catching the gleam in his eyes.

“Oh, me?” he said smoothly, voice soft and teasing. “I’m with Mickey.” Mortimer blinked. “Wait, what?” Mark purred softly just loud enough to rattle Mortimer’s composure and leaned over toward Mickey, his tail slowly curling behind him. “You didn’t tell me your friend was so curious, meu rato doce,” he said, letting the words drip like warm syrup as he nuzzled behind Mickey’s ear.

Mickey’s face turned scarlet, ears twitching as Mark kissed him slowly and deliberately on the lips. Mortimer stared. “Wha-he’s- a guy?!” Mark leaned back with a grin, clearly enjoying himself. “Mmhmm. Surprised?” Mickey was now a pile of pink-cheeked fuzz in his seat.

Mortimer stammered, clearing his throat. “I-I just thought-I mean, not that I’m judging!-” “Oh no,” Mark purred, his claws gently tapping the table, “judging’s what I’m looking at... That shirt with that blazer? Terrible.” Mortimer looked down at his outfit in wounded horror. “Hey!”

Mickey finally found his voice again, laughing despite himself. “You walked into that one, Morty.” Flustered, Mortimer huffed. “W-well! You two enjoy your... weird little date. I’ve got places to be... and ladies to find...” Mark waved his fingers lazily as Mortimer walked off. “Bye-bye.”

When the older mouse finally disappeared around the corner, Mickey nearly collapsed into laughter. “I can’t believe you did that!” Mark leaned close again, voice a whisper against Mickey’s ear. “He was being rude. And besides…” He grinned as Mickey’s blush deepened. “You taste like cherries.” Mickey squeaked.

The rest of the evening passed like a dream. The pie was sweet, but not as sweet as the looks Mickey kept sneaking at Mark. And while Mortimer was long gone, the memory of his dumbfounded face made the laughter last all night.

When they walked home, hand in hand under the stars, Mickey quietly said, “Thanks… for doing that... honestly, it was really funny to see Mortimer get like that. He thinks his the biggest hotshot in town... I'm happy you teased him, kitty.” Mark smiled. “Always my love.” And somewhere down the street, Mortimer sneezed from the sting of that roast.

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Enjoy the short story, people >:)

(This is what Mortimer would have seen: look at the image if u dare) >:3

Art by @mysticdreamiz plz go check them out :)

Mark returned after a long absence, not because he was healed but because he finally found the courage to reconnect with the ones he left behind... Oswald, Ortensia, Goofy, Donald, and especially Mickey.

The ink illness still lingers in his body like a storm, slow and merciless, without a cure in sight. But when Oswald reached out guilt and grief heavy in his voice, Ortensia gone Mark realized that hiding forever wasn't an option.

He couldn’t face Ortensia’s funeral; not with Mickey there, not after everything he put him through by leaving without a word and not telling him about his ink illness. It would’ve destroyed him to see Mickey mourning.

So he stayed away from the viewing, not out of disrespect, but to protect what was left of his own heart.

After 8 years passed, Mark returned to the circus and its family not because he’s cured but because he knew time was precious. That’s why he, Bendy, Boris, and Felix are setting off soon, traveling the world to find a cure, or at least a way to slow the illness.

Every moment now means something. Every hug, every laugh, every quiet second beside Mickey is something he refuses to take for granted. Mark came back because he realized the pain of being alone was worse than the pain of dying.

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