Donald Duck side blog cause I got sick of digging through my likes to reread fanfics... well that’s how this started anyway, you all know what happened.
Ducktales angst lowkey went hard like. Depressed Scrooge with abandonment issues. Della with hardcore C-PTSD. Louie with severe anxiety and an inferiority complex. It was always so good.
Fuck it, belated Christmas Donald Uno fanart comic! Please left to right, top to bottom! Happy new year!
Yes, I know. It's not Christmas anymore. I haven't made full on DonUno art for a while. But this has been sitting in my drive for years, and after losing progress on this thrice due to corrupted files, I present to you, this annoying work ToT. Happy new year everyone!
Dialogue for anyone finding it hard to read:
Page 1:
Donald: Merry Christmas Uno!
Uno: Yes, Merry Christmas Donald… What is that?
Donald: A present! It's Christmas so I got you a gift! Open it!
Uno: T-Thank you. It's a… scarf?
Donald: Yeah! Handmade.
Uno: A scarf for an AI with metal wiring and frames?
Donald: All right about that… i didn't think about it until halfway making this darn thing…
Page 2:
Donald: I know you don't feel cold but being in the tower probably isn't that comfy and warm... Even if you do feel cold you can control the thermostat anyway but I just- I wanted to still get something for you. It's kinda a silly gift huh?
Uno: No, I like it. It's the first time I've received a present. It makes me feel happy that you made something just for me.
Donald: Huh? Really?!
Uno: Yes, Thank you Don. But I'm afraid I didn't get you anything when you've given me such a wonderful gift.
Donald: Aw... shucks, don't worry about it Uno. But you really like it?
Uno: Like it? No... I love it! Let's put it on me.
Donald: Now?
Uno: No better time like the present Avenger. Get it? Present? Hehehe!
Donald: Y'know... I'm starting to think this might be too long for you Uno.
Uno: Nonsense! In fact I think it's not nearly long enough!
Donald: Oh yeah? Then I'll make you a longer one next year! And the year after that, and the one next to it...
Page 3:
Odin: And the year after that... You really did make me... the best christmas present I've ever gotten. Merry Christmas Donald.
With the amount of episodes we have- and the way math works- there does have to be a 3-way poll. Same rules still apply, the one with the most moves on, the other two are eliminated.
Donald’s family is composed of three branches. The McDuck Clan, Coot kin and the Duck family.
Coots are smaller birds that often get mistaken for ducks and while Coot can be used as a last name like how Duck or Mouse are common last names in the duckverse (like Johnson or Smith etc) I doubt that Barks and Rosa went out of their way to give them a last name without it having some biological meaning as well.
Donald’s dad, Quackmore Duck, is the son of Elvira Coot and Humperdink Duck. Now, unfortunately we don’t know much about Humperdink’s parents but we’re given enough tools at our disposal to figure enough out.
Donald’s mother is Hortense McDuck, a fiery duck from Scotland. As far as I can tell, duck is all she has.
So that’s it right?? Donald is part duck part coot??
NOPE
THERE’S SOMETHING ELSE
DONALD’S PART GOOSE AS WELL
The guy who looks high at the bottom left corner of the picture there?? That’s Gus Goose. He’s a semi-distant cousin of Donald’s related to him from his father.
Now it’s implied from the family tree that the goose part for Gus came from Luke Goose which is fine and dandy and it could very well have been from him. But again, it doesn’t have to be the only source of goose in his family. (and it already isn’t considering Gladstone Gander canonically being half goose half duck)
Humperdink’s parents are unknown right?? Who’s to say he isn’t part goose as well? Maybe he got it from his dad or mom who knows they’re not in the tree. And if he’s part goose part duck, then Quackmore is goose-duck-coot mixed.
Going by all of this, we can say that Donald Duck is 2/4ths Duck, ¼th Coot and ¼th Goose.
What do you think about Xandra from the Legends of the 3 caballeros?
Praise Xandra for having (most of the time) the patience of taking care of our three cabs!! She was pretty nice and really a contrast of character to have around
The Legend of The Three Caballeros? Nah. Greek Goodness babysits three little chaotic birds more like
So I saw this last night, and the little angsty plot bunny in my head woke up and I just had to write something. Fully intended to be a drabble of sorts, but of course it turned into a four page tear-fest, so grab the tissues and strap in.
Oh, and I haven't edited this, it's just 3am word-vomit, so enjoy the mess!
-
“So, this hasn’t exactly gone to plan.”
Della snorts cheerlessly at Donald’s deadpan comment, struggling into a sitting position and wincing at a twinge in her elbow. The chains dig into her arms with every movement, a very clear upgrade from the ropes they’d all been able to break out of within several minutes not too long ago. These idiots don’t know who they’re messing with.
Or they do; probably a little too well, hence the plan that fell apart very quickly. And the chains. And the scary looking red lightning below them.
“Shut up!” Heron snaps behind them, cuffing Donald a little too roughly around the head.
He doesn’t react more than a sharp hiss and a dark glare behind him, and Della can’t help the sharp pang of guilt under the surge of anger. She bites back a comment, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground until the villain is out of earshot.
“I’m sorry,” she breathes, keeping her voice low.
“What? Why?” Donald sounds confused but she can’t bring herself to look at him.
“You should be with Daisy right now,” she says, “I’m the one who guilted you into staying, into coming on this stupid trip. And now we’re facing the very real possibility of dying.”
Donald is quiet.
Forcing herself to look up, she frowns at the look on his face. He still doesn’t say anything, but the expression says it all; ‘Della-you-absolute-idiot-what-are-you-blathering-on-about?’
“I came on this stupid trip cause our kids were in trouble,” he hisses eventually, “my family were in trouble! You think I wouldn’t ditch my vacation in a heartbeat for any of you?”
“I-” Della starts, but her voice catches, rendering her utterly speechless. He’s not lying, she knows exactly what he would do for the family, for her. Yet, somehow that knowledge isn’t exactly helping.
She misses her chance to reply, all conversation cut off with the explosive arrival of Scrooge and Bradford through the roof.
Della clenches her fist and almost bites through the inside of her cheek as he slams to the ground. She manages to chime out a ‘Hey Uncle Scrooge,’ with Donald when his pained gaze finds them. Beakley mutters a sarcastic ‘Fantastic,’ from her other side. She can only watch as a now armoured Bradford, armed with the sword, picks him up by the back of his coat and drags him up the stairs. He’s blathering on about something, but she’s stopped listening; too busy focusing on her battered and beaten uncle and how this could have gone so completely and utterly wrong.
It’s the usual spiel anyway, threats to destroy his family, his adventures, everything he had worked for, blah blah blah.
Then the contract is revealed, and her stomach drops to somewhere around her knees. If they don’t find a way out soon, Scrooge will have to either sign his life away or they all die, and frankly, neither option sound particularly appealing.
It’s only when Bradford sacrifices his own agents that the desperateness of the situation really sinks in. It’s one thing to talk about murder, it’s entirely another to actually do it. And if Bradford is willing to throw away his own agents, Della can’t imagine what he would be willing to do to her family if Scrooge doesn’t sign.
He tries to buy some time. Della can almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he tries to figure out how to get out of this one. She huffs out a half-hearted laugh at the sharp quip about the fine-print. He’d figure something out, he always does. Not to mention the kids are bound to have found a way out by now, they’d pick up the rest of their allies and be on their way to disrupt the whole evil plan.
It’s just a matter of-
“Ugh! Enough stalling!”
Never mind.
“You need some incentive.”
Della does not like where this is going.
“Perhaps the life of your most trusted ally?”
The three of them snap their heads forward as Bradford stalks towards them, sword dragging on the concrete threateningly. As the screeching rings in Della’s ears, the only thought racing through her mind is ‘not Donnie, not Donnie, please, don’t take my brother.’
Her heart almost stops when he scoops Donald up by his collar, his cry echoing in her ears.
“Donald!” Three voices scream.
She can barely breathe, crippling panic bubbling up inside. All she wants to do is close her eyes and scream, break these chains and drag him back to safety, but she can’t move, she can’t take her eyes off her twin as he’s dangled over the edge.
“What will it be Scrooge? Adventure? Or your Family?”
‘Just do what he wants!’ She’s not ashamed of the thought. They’ll figure out a way to reverse the contract, there’s always a way, always a loophole. Just do it so she can see her brother safely on solid ground.
“Alright, I’ll do it.”
She can’t say she’s surprised at how quickly he gives in.
“No! Don’t!” Donald screams, “find a way out! You can beat him!”
The pen is already in his hand. “It’s not worth the risk lad.”
They can only watch in horror at the golden glow that circles around him, lifting him up and binding him with unbreakable chains that drag him to the ground.
“I did it!” Bradford crows triumphantly. “The great Scrooge McDuck, now only a poor old man!”
Della’s heart breaks just a little at the look of absolute misery on her old uncle’s face, but she doesn’t have time to mourn properly, because Bradford is talking. Again.
“Normally I wouldn’t indulge in such petty villainy,” he says, his gaze turning back to Donald, still dangling over the edge, with a glint in his eye that makes Della’s blood run cold. “But since this is a special occasion.”
He lets go.
Della’s eyes meet Donald’s for an agonising second, and then he’s gone.
There’s a flash of red, and someone is screaming.
She doesn’t even realise it’s her until a rough hand knocks her back.
“Shut it! Or it’ll be you next!”
Hot tears stream down her beak and she presses her forehead into the cold concrete, not even bothering to choke back a sob. Over the pounding of her own taunting heartbeat in her ears, she hears the sound of the machine powering down (‘Too late’ her traitorous mind provides), of her kids voices yelling something, and Scrooge shouting for them to be careful.
And Bradford, confused and angry as her family finally, finally step in to save the day.
His voice sets off something inside that she hadn’t felt since the day Lunaris betrayed her. A raging anger that burns through her, overwhelming any other emotion and completely taking over her mind.
The chains are no longer an obstacle, and even Beakley can’t stop her from launching herself at the buzzard. They tumble down the stairs, fists flying and feet kicking. Everything blurs after that, which may or may not be a side effect of a rather painful bump on the head as they hit the ground at the bottom of the staircase. She’s kicked off, then it’s just a cloud of lights and bodies and a strong arm holding her back from doing anything overly-reckless and potentially stupid.
The kids, her (their) beautiful, wonderful kids, figure out the loophole and the ever-binding contract disintegrates.
It’s done.
The maniacal villain is defeated once more. The world has returned to rights and the sounds of celebration fill the air.
But Della can only stand and watch, her hands trembling and eyes burning. Beakley stands behind her, hands hovering just behind her shoulders, ready to give comfort if needed.
He’s gone.
Her brother, the other half of her soul; just… gone.
And… oh.
Her knees buckle, a wrecked sob forcing its way from her throat. Beakley catches her with a arm round the shoulders and a hand under her elbow, lowering her gently to the ground as she crumples into a ball. She presses her hands to her eyes in a hopeless attempt to stem the tears as everything comes crashing down.
“It’s okay, let it out dear.”
He shouldn’t have been here. He should’ve been on that amazing adventure with Daisy, sailing together on that old houseboat. After everything life had thrown at him, after all the madness they’d been through, he’d finally caught a break, finally found that amazing person who loved him as fiercely as he loved her.
Then Della had come along, crying about lost time and not being ready. She hadn’t wanted to him to leave, even on a stupid vacation that he would very clearly be coming back from.
Now he wouldn’t even get the chance to go.
And it’s all her fault.
“Mom?”
The obvious confusion and concern in Huey’s voice is enough to send her tumbling over the edge all over again, fresh tears springing up at the thought of having to explain what happened to her- to his kids.
Scrooge hurries them away, and she tries not to listen to the hushed explanation, the startled gasps, and she has to cover her ears for the rest. She can’t stand it.
It’s all her fault.
“DELLA!”
‘What?’
There’s no mistaking that voice.
Her head snaps up so fast she’s half sure she’s given herself whiplash. Even through blurred eyesight, she knows that silhouette, that outfit, that stupid hat. She blinks, sniffing and scrubbing at her face with her sleeve, hardly daring to believe.
It shouldn’t be possible, there’s no way it’s possible. She saw it, she saw him fall, saw the flash of lightning, the empty space where he had been only moments before. She watched her own brother die. So how was he standing ten feet in front of her, laughing as he’s tackled by several small and colourful blurs?
A hand appears in front of her face and she looks up into the stunned face of her uncle. He looks almost as much of a mess as she feels, tearstains tracking down his cheeks and spotting on his coat.
“I think it might be best if we just don’t question it,” he says, helping her to her feet.
His hands are shaking as he holds hers tightly, but she doesn’t comment; it can’t be any worse than her own trembling limbs. They turn back to Donald, who’s ended up sat on the floor under the collective weight of the kids. He’s got a tearful Louie on his shoulder and several kids wrapped around his torso as he struggles to his feet, and Della can see him mouthing a headcount as he takes them all in.
“I swear every time we see you, you have more children.”
She hadn’t even noticed Panchito and José just beside him, grins wide and eyes twinkling with amusement and, in José’s case, something else that she can’t quite place. Donald just laughs at Panchito’s observation, the sound sweet as honey and causing even more tears to well up all round. The pure relief that sweeps through her is almost enough to make her knees give way again, but Scrooge’s hand gripping hers and Beakley’s arm still around her shoulders is just enough to keep her grounded.
Then he catches her eye.
“Hey Dells.”
The kids must see something in her face, cause they have to good sense to dart out of the way just moments before Della hurls herself at her brother. They almost topple backwards, but Donald is able to keep them just about upright while Della just focuses on wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. His arms circle her waist, holding her just as tightly. The tears are streaming freely now, but she’s beyond caring. He can yell at her about ruining his shirt later and she’ll just take it with a grin.
“You idiot!” she yells, her voice muffled by his shoulder, “I thought you were dead!”
“For a minute, so did I,” he says into her hair, “how about we just call it even?”
The soft jibe only makes her laugh, and she holds him just that little bit tighter.
Miracles do happen, and in the end all that matters is love, family and adventure.
But if he thinks she’s going to let him go galivanting off on some adventure without her now, then he’d better think again.
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