Hey So I Really Love Your Work And Stuff, So I Wanted To Tell You That! Totally Keep Going!! =]

Um hi chat.

So I was looking through my ducktales feed (it was some of the older posts) and I just have a question. But who the shat is "Frank" ...I've seen that name in old blogs, old posts. Someone tell me who he is 😭

Ain’t no way Mark beaks’s mental heath is stable. Something must have happened to him as a child.

Honestly, a little tragic when you think about it. Mark Beaks’ whole thing is just someone desperately trying to prove they’re worth something, but doing it all wrong. The bitch needs therapy 😭🙏🙏

「 ✦ kіk᥆ ✦ 」

ᯓ★ | Lebanese 🇱🇧 ★ᯓ

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺

﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍.

╰─ ♡ 🐇 ࣪ ִֶָ About Me:

୨୧┇Name: Call me Sisi or Kiko‼️

୨୧┇Age: A MINOR, ⚠️If you be weird Imma be weird back lil bro🗣️⚠️

﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍.

🎂 ˖ ࣪

╰─ ♡ My Favorites…

୨୧┇Color: Green / Blue / Purple

୨୧┇Animal: Frog 🐸

୨୧┇Music: Anything and everything—my taste is crazy! 🎶

୨୧┇Games: ACNH / LittleBigPlanet / Welcome Home / FNAF: Security Breach 🎮

୨୧┇TV Shows: DuckTales / Danger Mouse / Komi Can't Communicate / House of Mouse📺

୨୧┇Season: Winter ❄️

﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍.

╰─ ♡ Interests & More!

୨୧┇Likes: ~Disney ✨

I LOVE Mark beaks, he’s so goofy 😂

☁️⁺˖

୨୧┇Dislikes: The fact that I can't draw properly 😭🖌️

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 💀

subscribing to a fic isn’t enough I need the author to blast a bat signal into the night sky whenever they update

🤫

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

Other

Fandom:

DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)

Relationship:

None

Character:

Mark Beaks

Additional Tags:

DepressionMark beaks DEFINITELY has depression

Language:

English

Stats:

Published:2025-03-28Words:459Chapters:1/1Hits:0

Inner demon's

1anon1

Summary:

I guess that's what you get when your a savvy tech billionaire "genius"

Notes:

Writing my first series chat!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1:

——————————————————————

Work Text:

Mark didn't know what to do anymore. He is a billionaire, but he failed. He tried to make his own ideas from scratch, but he failed. He tried to live, but he obviously failed at that.

Mark sat on the edge on the bed, letting a sad groan before flopping to his back on the bed. It was a king sized bed, but that felt too big, too empty, like a stage where he was supposed to be playing the role of a successful billionaire and businessman. He looked at the ceiling with tired eyes, seeing the fan spin round and round. His phone rested beside him, the screen was dark, complete silence. No notifications-no on checking in, there was no one needing him.

He rolled onto his side so he could face the starry night, blankly staring into the window that overlooked the city. Somewhere down there, there were people living real lives while he was just…stuck. With a sigh, he grabbed the nearest pillow and pulled it over his face, muffling a frustrated groan. He had everything he could ever want and more. So why did everything including himself feel so meaningless?

Mark let the pillow fall to the floor with a quiet this before sitting up again, running a hand through his feathers. His chest felt tight…a little too tight, like there was something sitting on it, pressing down, refusing to let him breathe at all. He limply swung his legs over the side of the bed, getting up and resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor..

The silence in his penthouse was absolutely deafening, the kind that made his thoughts louder and harsher. He didn't get it. He used to love having this life! The luxury, the way people viewed him. The validation life gave him. But now? Absolutely nothing, only walls…expensive, lifeless walls.

Mark let out a hollow laugh, but it died in his throat as quickly. Fun. Well that used to be his whole thing, right? The guy who never took anything seriously, who never had to give a care in the world. But now? Now, even the things that used to distract him felt like dead weight, pointless reminders of a version of himself that didn’t exist anymore.

His gaze shifted to the large desk, cluttered with unfinished projects, blueprints, and abandoned plans. He used to pour himself into every detail, believing that if he could just make the next big thing, it would all click. But now, the papers were just reminders of how much he had failed. They were all meaningless—just scribbles on paper that led to nowhere. Just like everything else in this empty, lifeless damned penthouse. Just like him.

——————————————————————

Notes:

A short piece this time, but I will try and make the next chapters longer. Hoped you enjoyed!

Follow me on Ao3 if you like this stuff or is a Mark beaks fan!

1anon1

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandom:

DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)

Relationship:

None

Character:

Mark Beaks

Language:

English

Stats:

Published:2025-03-15Words:1,149Chapters:1/1Hits:0

Distant Memory's

1anon1

Summary:

Why was he so...pathetic?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Mark sat at his desk, idly scrolling through his waddle-gram feed. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the edge of his desk, his eyes darting between the screen and the piles of unfinished paperwork. He glanced out the window, the dimly lit city lights glowing. After a bit he put his phone down, getting up and crossing his arms, looking out the window.

He sighed, drawing a hand across his face. He checked his watch, 10:48pm. ‘Had I really been here for that long?’ he thought. Well, to be fair it was only him and his assistant still in the building, all the other employees' shifts ended. Even though technically there were physically two people left in the Waddle building, mentally…he felt alone.

Mark let out another long sigh, glancing at the empty office around him. The quiet hum of the building felt almost eerie at this hour. He turned back to the piles of paperwork, his thoughts drifting…turning darker…

He snapped out of his thoughts as he heard a knock on the office door. “Come in, Melanie” he said before quickly rubbing his eyes. His assistant walked in, a duffle bag across her arm “Mr Beaks? Do you want me to close up or should I stay a little longer to help?...” Melanie asked, peeking her head in with a concerned expression. Mark hesitated for a moment before answering, running a hand through his hair. "Huh? Oh—nah, you go ahead. I got it.” he said, though even he wasn’t sure he believed it. He forced her a reassuring smile.

She nodded, closing the door behind her, leaving Mark by himself in the room again. His smile faltered, as he heard her footsteps walking into the elevator.

Mark let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his beak before slumping back in his seat. He reached out his hand, his fingers hovering over his phone. But instead of scrolling again, he just sat there, staring at the dark phone screen, his own tired reflection looking back at him.

The reflection seemed to flicker to a younger boy that looked like him but his eyes had been blacked out, he knew exactly who it was. Mark let out a slow breath. His mind drifted—further and further, until he wasn’t in his office anymore.

The sound of arguing filled the house, sharp voices cutting through the air like a blade. Mark, no older than eight, sat curled up on the floor of his room, his oversized headphones clamped tightly over his ears. It didn’t block out everything.

“…lazy, good-for-nothing—!”

“You think I wanted this?!”

Mark squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his tail tightly in his hands—his mismatched tail feathers, the ones that made the other kids stare, laugh, and tug at him on the playground. His mom hated them. She always said they made him look ridiculous, like a walking joke.

“Marcus!”

His body tensed. He barely had time to take the headphones off before the door swung open. His mother stood there, her face twisted in frustration. “Why is your room such a mess? And take your hands off that tail—you look pathetic.”

Mark quickly let go, his feathers trembling as he muttered, “Sorry, Mother…”

She was about to answer, to gaslight him, to make him hurt. But his father called out to her again, his voice cutting through the house with a shake

She scoffed, rolling her eyes before slamming the door shut again, the force rattling his shelves. Her voice descended as she moved further away from his door. He swallowed hard, pulling his knees to his chest. He wanted to disappear.

Mark blinked, the memory fading, but the weight in his chest remained. He exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand down his face as if that could wipe away the past. His fingers hovered over his phone again, but now, the idea of scrolling through meaningless posts, desperate attempts at validation, felt exhausting. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.

No matter how many years had passed, no matter how many followers he had, no matter how much wealth he flaunted—he still felt like that kid in his room, gripping his tail, hoping to be invisible. Only now, there was no tail to hold onto. Just an empty office, an unfinished workload, and the cold hum of silence pressing in on him.

He exhaled sharply, pushing the unfinished paperwork into a desk drawer. “Fuck it, I'll finish it tomorrow” he mumbled

Mark let out a sharp breath and shook his head, as if trying to physically shake off the weight pressing on his chest. He turned his chair, facing away from the city lights outside his window.

No. He wasn’t doing this tonight.

He pulled his laptop toward him and opened it with a click. The screen’s glow illuminated his tired face as he skimmed through the latest analytics for Waddle. Engagement numbers, trending topics, sponsorship deals—it was all there. A constant, never-ending stream of numbers and validation.

This was what he was good at, right? Staying relevant. Keeping the world’s eyes on him. Making sure people never forgot the name Mark Beaks.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard before he pulled up a blank post. Maybe a new Waddle-Gram update? A late-night thought? Something cool and mysterious to keep his followers intrigued.

Grinding past midnight. #CEOlife

…No, that was stupid. Too generic. He deleted it.

Instead, he drummed his fingers against the desk, thinking. His mind wandered back to the memory from earlier. That stupid room. That stupid tail. The way his mother had sneered at him like he was nothing.

A bitter chuckle left his beak. “Bet you’d love to see me now huh, mother?” he muttered under his breath, the last word filled with disdain.

Without thinking, he started typing again.

"Ever wonder if success actually fixes anything? Or does it just make the silence louder? Asking for a friend."

He stared at the words, re-reading them over and over. His thumb hovered over the ‘Post’ button.

Would his followers even get it? Would they think it was just another ironic joke? Maybe they'd hype him up, tell him he was killing it, that he was the coolest, the richest, the smartest.

But none of that changed the fact that right now, in this cold, empty office, it felt like none of it mattered.

Mark swallowed hard and—

Backspaced the entire post.

No one needed to see that.

Instead, he shut his laptop with a little more force than necessary and leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face. Maybe he should just go home. Get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow, everything would feel a little less…loud.

But deep down, he already knew—

Tomorrow, the silence would still be there. Why was he so pathetic?

Notes:

Follow me on ao3 if you enjoy this stuff or is a Mark beaks fan!

1anon1

Ok can someone PLS give me a drawing tut for cartoons? I'm going to try and draw for my @ask-the-4-ducktale-villans blog lol

B.O.Y.D: I made this fathers day bracelet for you

Mark beaks: Oh- you know, I'm not really a jewellery person

B.O.Y.D: You don't have to wear it-

Mark beaks: *snatches bracelet from Boyd* N- No I'm gonna wear it forever, back off