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McMystery at McDuck McManor - The villains on Louie’s one-hour guest list~ (& Black Arts Beagle)

So I made a Mark beaks server for some reason, if y'all wanna join then go for it🤷‍♀️

https://discord.gg/33fQzwZe

𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚍: 𝙸'𝚖 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖, 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚜.

*𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚢*

𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚢: 𝙸'𝚖 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!

*𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚍*

𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚍: *𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭*

This happened fr

You can read on AO3, or here gang idc

---

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Fandom:

DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)

Relationship:

None

Characters:

Mark Beaks, Coach Beaks

Additional Tags:

Blood and Injury, Blood, Blood and Gore

Language:

English

Stats:

Published:2025-03-09Words:1,020Chapters:1/1Comments:1Kudos:2Hits:6

Can't think of a title holy shit

1anon1

Summary:

...

Notes:

⚠️ BLOOD WARNING ⚠️ So this ain't canon like at all. I wrote this at 3am don't judge.

Work Text:

“I kept telling you to hit the ball—to hit the ball!” Coach Beaks' voice thundered through the empty locker room as he yanked Marcus’s arm. “But every time you try, you miss!”

Marcus struggled against his grip, but it was no use. His father’s fingers dug into his sleeve, his frustration boiling over. With a sharp shove, he pushed Marcus against the cold concrete wall.

“I thought I told you to actually participate in the game!”

Marcus winced, the sting of his father’s words cutting deeper than the rough impact against his back. He lowered his gaze, his voice barely a whisper. “I-I’m sorry, Father…” he murmured. But the apology hadn't even left his lips before his father’s voice crashed over him again. “‘Sorry’ isn’t gonna cut it, young man!” He pinched the bridge of his beak. “God, you're such a disappointment.”

…

There was a brief pause. Mark covered his head with his hands, his chest tight as tears threatened to spill, but he blinked them back fiercely. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold it together. Coach put a hand on his chin thoughtfully. “You know,” he mumbled, “we’ve used the bat for practice and in games… Wait here, Marcus.”

Marcus didn’t move an inch. He kept his head down, his breath shaky as his father’s footsteps echoed across the tile floor. His chest felt tight, his stomach twisted in knots. Wait here. The words hung in the air, heavy with something unspoken. Then came the sound—metal scraping against metal. A locker opening. A pause. The unmistakable clink of a wooden bat being lifted.

Marcus swallowed hard. His pulse quickened.

Mark looked up when he didn’t hear his dad's footsteps anymore.

Without hesitation, he swung.

The bat struck Marcus hard across the ribs. A sickening thud echoed through the locker room. Marcus gasped as white-hot pain exploded through his side. He crumpled to the floor, clutching his ribs, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

“You wanna cry now?” his father sneered, looming over him. He tapped the bat against the floor, impatient. “Get up.”

Marcus tried. His arms shook as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, but his body screamed in protest. His ribs ached with every shallow breath.

“I said get up.”

Another strike. This time across his shoulder. Marcus collapsed again with a sharp cry, his vision blurring as pain overtook him.

“Pathetic,” Coach Beaks muttered. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his beak in frustration. He turned and tossed the bat back into the open locker with a loud clang.

“Clean yourself up before you go home,” he said coldly. “And don’t let your mother find out about this… This won’t be the last time, either.” He rolled his eyes.

With that, he walked out, leaving Marcus curled up on the locker room floor, his body shaking, his breath uneven, and his father’s words burning deeper than the bruises forming beneath his feathers. He was left there, crying and alone.

After a while, he finally managed to sit up. He leaned against the wall, his breath shallow, and coughed weakly.

Marcus sat there, his back pressed against the cold concrete wall, gasping for air. A sharp cough wracked his body. He raised a hand to his mouth, feeling something warm on his tongue. When he pulled his hand away, dark red stained his feathers.

Blood.

His stomach twisted, but he forced himself to stay calm. He pulled his knees up to his chest and cried silently, his face pressed into his arms. His tears, once on the verge of spilling, now flowed freely as his body trembled. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain to subside, but it lingered—throbbing deep in his ribs and shoulder.

Minutes passed. Maybe more.

He slowly brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears.

Finally, Marcus swallowed hard and forced himself to move. His limbs protested, his ribs screaming with every shift, but he grit his teeth and pushed forward. He needed to get up. He couldn’t stay here. If anyone saw him like this—if his mother found out

Marcus shook his head. No. He had to pull himself together.

With trembling hands, he reached for the nearby bench, using it for support as he dragged himself to his feet. His vision swam, his legs threatening to give out beneath him, but he steadied himself. One breath at a time. One step at a time.

He wiped his mouth, trying to ignore the taste of iron that lingered in his throat.

FLASH.

"Focus, Beaks," he muttered to himself under his breath.

He slowly raised his head from his arms. Was he…

He looked around—his office. His desk. His computer, flashing with the latest figures.

It was all right there. The world he’d built. The world he owned.

The office door opened as a duck with her hair in a messy bun, wearing a black skirt suit and heels, knocked on the door. “Mr. Beaks? The board is ready to see… you…” she paused when she saw his state. “Mr. Beaks? Are you alright?”

Mark rubbed his face, brushing away the lingering fog of the dark memory. "Y-Yeah. I'm okay," he murmured, blinking again. "Just a little trip down memory lane. Nothing to worry about. I'll be there in a second, Melanie." He forced a quick, reassuring smile.

She hesitated, her eyes lingering on him, but she nodded. “Right. Ready when you are.”

Without another word, she shut the door behind her, her footsteps descending until the sound of them faded, leaving Marcus alone in his office once again. The only noise now was the faint hum of traffic outside.

He sat in his chair for a moment, staring down at his hands. The urge to cry bubbled up again, but he pushed it away with a heavy sigh. He stood and headed for the door, the sound of his talons clicking against the tile floor echoing in the silence.

He was Mark Beaks. And nothing was going to bring him down. Not anymore… Right?

Phantom Blot: Suspect has to speak Spanish to talk to shit about people

Ma begal: Nah, you didn't!

Phantom Blot: Yes I did

Ma begal: Oh yeah? Bet. Suspect moans like a little bitch in sound proof walls

Phantom Blot: That was one time! In *🤷‍♀️* when we went to Ohio for vacation.

Ma begal: You still did it!

*Magica Despell joins the call*

Magica Despell: Hello Begal and Blot

Phantom Blot: Oh hello Magica, what's up

Ma begal: Huh? Did I miss a chapter?

Magica Despell: What do you mean?

Phantom Blot: Yeah we can't say hi to each other like normal bros?

Ma begal: Normal bros? Oh hell no

*Pepper has joined the call*

Pepper: Huh? What's going on?

Phantom Blot: Nothing, She's just tweaking

Magica Despell: Right, like I treat Phantom like any friend would. Why is it so shocking.

Pepper: Friend?!

*Don karnege has joined the call*

Don karnege: Pepper I was eating, what happened?

Phantom Blot: Go back to eat. She's wilding over me and Magica being bros like come on now.

Don karnege: Bros?!

*Flintheart Glomgold has joined the call*

Flintheart Glomgold: Don I'm trying to sleep, it's 3 am here.

Magica Despell: Go back to sleep Flinty. Phantom are just being buddies and these guys are freaking out.

Flintheart: Buddy's?!

*Mark beaks has joined the call*

Mark beaks: You woke me up you wanker.

Phantom Blot: Oh come on! Is it really that shocking that Magica and I are greeting each other like pals?!

Mark beaks: Pals?!

*Black heron has joined the call*

Black Heron: I'm on vacation so this better be important.

Magica Despell: Go back and enjoy your vacation Heron, these guys are freaking out over me and Phantom Blot being friendly.

Black Heron: Friendly?!

Phantom Blot: You too?!

Ma begal: See what I mean? What kind of April fools prank is this! You two never get along!

Magica Despell: Oh please is it really that shocking?

Flintheart Glomgold: Yes? It is?

Don karnege: Name one time you two have gotten along

Phantom Blot: We always have?

...

Mark beaks: Even I can see that it's not true 💀

Omg they liked my post! @angelleplaytoonbeary

Hi guys!

Go follow to my other blog @ask-the-4-ducktale-villans

If I'm being honest, Maxley pisses me off. I mean, weren't they like enemies in the movie? Like don't get me wrong, I love it when people ship villain x hero I'm all for it but. Maxley is something that shouldn't be together. As for Yax...It's not like I *love* the ship but it has a special place in my heart.

But that's my opinion Idk

It's a strange thing for me to say, but I feel like the Maxley and Yax are very overrated and annoying ships...

I mean, it's annoying that I find things about those ships (mainly the Maxley) that Max himself does on his own tag, can't there be a minimal drawing of Max without any ships?