fanfic100 update
Oct. 23rd, 2005 11:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
visionshadows
Title: Beginnings
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Characters:Duck MacDonald
Prompt:001. Beginnings
Word Count:317
Rating:PG
Author's Notes:Part of the Life and Times of Duck MacDonald arc.
For Duck, Toronto felt like coming home. It was loud, busy, crowded, dirty, and just a little bit off-centre, just like himself. He smiled big, cut his hair into a mohawk, and kissed boys in dark alleys.
Adeline came into his life first, a petite woman with green hair and tiny hands that stole his brushes during their art classes. He watched her with some kind of fascination, this tiny creature who had an aura of strength and sex appeal that even he, queer as the day was long, could appreciate and respond to.
She dragged him to parties he never would have gone to, forced him to drink cheap beer at crowded gay bars, and taught him how to give a really good blowjob. For the rest of his life, he would remember what her mouth tasted like after going down on him.
But it was Mick that really changed his life. Mick who made him see that life was more than art and sex. Mick who grew up in the suburbs of Ottawa, one of the only interracial children around. Mick who told Duck that he was beautiful.
Duck fell hard for Mick and didn’t get up for a decade or so.
They were artists – two painters and a sculpture – and bartenders, house painters, and mechanics during the day. Mick’s hands were constantly dry and cracked from clay or plaster or whatever medium he was using at the time. Adeline and Duck were covered in spots of colour, never able to fully wash off their life.
They lived together, created together, and showed together. Duck’s success became their success and vice versa.
It was his life and he loved it, grew stronger, prouder, and forceful in his views. He said the word ‘queer’ now and sent his parents long letters telling them about everything in his life, everything but how it was all falling apart.
Title: Hours
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Characters:Duck MacDonald
Prompt:006. Hours
Word Count:540
Rating:PG
Author's Notes:Part of the Life and Times of Duck MacDonald arc.
Adeline laughed happily and pushed the drawing pad towards Mick. She reached for her coffee with her other hand, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. Mick took the drawing pad and began to sketch quickly, leaning against Duck’s shoulder the whole time.
“No fucking peeking,” Mick said, elbowing him lightly. “You can’t look until it’s your turn.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Duck said, looking at Adeline instead. He drank his coffee, his eyes trailing over her smiling mouth, the dimple in her chin, the harsh line of her jaw. “Anyone want another coffee?”
“Please.” Adeline pushed her cup towards Duck. “Tell Betsy she’s got to start making it stronger or else we’re going to have to switch to espresso.”
“You can tell Betsy yourself,” Duck said as he got up, pressing a kiss to Mick’s curls. “You want one?”
Mick shook his head. “I’m wired enough already. Get me a glass of water though.”
Duck rolled his eyes, making small talk with Betsy as she refilled their coffees for free, handing them off along with Mick’s water. He looked at the clock behind the counter, the time weighing heavily on his mind.
Adeline was snickering and swinging her legs, her pigtails only further adding to her childlike appearance. At 30 she looked the same as she did ten years earlier. Duck sat back down, handing off the fresh drinks.
“Here,” Mick said, handing him the drawing pad. “Your turn to dazzle us with your brilliance.”
Duck reached into his bag, taking out a pill container. He looked at the drawing, trying to puzzle it out as he took out Mick’s pills. He handed them off to him, watching as Mick swallowed them down before he replaced the container in his bag.
“Which one of you is dropping acid?” asked Duck, his voice warm as he picked up the pencil. “Because someone is really fucking bad at perspective.”
Adeline pointed at Mick immediately. “Hi. Take a look at the sculptor before you look at the painter.”
Duck eyed her over the pad, his gaze sliding over to rest on Mick. “I’m going to have to believe her there. I remember trying to teach you perspective back in Drawing 1.”
“What the fuck ever. Just do your part,” Mick said as he pushed away from the table. “Be right back.”
Duck watched him go, his fingers tight around the pencil. He heard the snap before he registered the pencil breaking. Adeline didn’t say anything, just handed him another pencil.
“Better get rid of it before he gets back,” she said calmly. “He hates knowing you’re worrying about him.”
“Yeah,” Duck muttered. “God forbid we acknowledge that he’s fucking *dying*.”
“Once we acknowledge it, what hope does he have?” asked Adeline quietly. She lifted her cup of coffee. “I for one would rather pretend he has forever instead of counting the hours like you do.”
Duck stared at the drawing pad in front of him and the pieces of broken pencil. “Right. So what were you trying to draw anyway?”
Adeline shrugged delicately. “Nothing special. But I think Mick was trying to draw a dick.”
“Well,” Duck said with a tight smile as he picked up the new pencil. “I better draw some tits then.”
Title: Parents
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Characters:Duck MacDonald
Prompt:027. Parents
Word Count:552
Rating:PG
Author's Notes:Part of the Life and Times of Duck MacDonald arc.
“We’ve been expecting you.”
Duck looked up from the tea kettle, his eyes going to the door. He hadn’t even heard the knock which was surprising considering he was so fucking nervous right now.
Adeline nudged him a little, taking the tea kettle. “Go. I’ll pour the tea and leave it here. If you need me, I’ll be in my room. Hiding.”
Duck nodded quickly, giving her fingers a fleeting squeeze before going out into the living room, crowded with easels, unfinished paintings, and Mick’s sculptures. He walked over to Mick, standing just to the left of him, his eyes on Mick’s parents and the way they hovered in the doorway, staring at their son.
“Please,” Duck said softly. “Come inside. Let me take your coats.”
“Sit down, Mum,” Mick said after a moment. “Do you want anything to drink? Duck – uh. Walter just made tea.”
“Tea would be lovely,” Mrs. Johansson said, sitting down on the couch. “Thank you, Walter.”
Duck tried not to flinch at the name, smiling politely. “Mr. Johansson? Tea?”
“No,” Mr. Johansson said shortly, sitting down next to his wife. “We came, Michael. You said it was important.”
Duck got three mugs of tea, suddenly embarrassed at the cracked handles and unmatched patterns. His mother had raised him better than this. He set the mugs on the low bench that served as a coffee table before sitting next to Mick.
Mick closed his eyes briefly, his head bowed. He reached for Duck’s hand blindly and Duck reached back, tangling their fingers together tightly. He looked at Mick’s mother, her grey-streaked red hair and kind blue eyes, hoping that it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her.
“I … “ Mick cleared his throat, leaning forward to take a sip of his tea. His mother did the same. Mick set the mug down on the table, his hand shaking. “I’m sick.”
Mr. Johansson stood up quickly and began to pace. “Do you have *it*?”
“Yes,” Mick said, his voice shaky. “I do.”
Mrs. Johansson let out a gasp, pressing a hand to her mouth. She closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. Duck felt Mick’s hand tighten on his own and he just rubbed the knuckles soothingly.
“How long?” asked Mr. Johansson quietly, his hand on his wife’s shoulder. She was clutching at it and crying silently now.
“We got the diagnosis about two months ago,” Duck said quietly. “But he’s been sick for about a year now. We just didn’t know what it was.”
“You have it too?” Mr. Johansson was staring at the tea now and Duck felt sick to his stomach.
“No,” Mick said, moving a little closer to Duck. “Walter doesn’t have it. He’s been tested. Mum’s tea is safe, Dad.”
Mr. Johansson stared at him tightly. “Don’t talk to me like that, Michael. How did you expect us to react?”
“Shut up, both of you.” Mrs. Johansson pushed her husband’s hand away. “Just shut up. I will not have the two of you arguing like this. Not now.”
Mick slumped a little. “I’m sorry.”
Duck watched as Mick’s father sat down again, his hands clenched together tightly. His eyes were bright as he looked intently at the rug on the floor.
“Tell us everything,” Mrs. Johansson said quietly. “We need to know.”
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Characters:Duck MacDonald
Prompt:001. Beginnings
Word Count:317
Rating:PG
Author's Notes:Part of the Life and Times of Duck MacDonald arc.
For Duck, Toronto felt like coming home. It was loud, busy, crowded, dirty, and just a little bit off-centre, just like himself. He smiled big, cut his hair into a mohawk, and kissed boys in dark alleys.
Adeline came into his life first, a petite woman with green hair and tiny hands that stole his brushes during their art classes. He watched her with some kind of fascination, this tiny creature who had an aura of strength and sex appeal that even he, queer as the day was long, could appreciate and respond to.
She dragged him to parties he never would have gone to, forced him to drink cheap beer at crowded gay bars, and taught him how to give a really good blowjob. For the rest of his life, he would remember what her mouth tasted like after going down on him.
But it was Mick that really changed his life. Mick who made him see that life was more than art and sex. Mick who grew up in the suburbs of Ottawa, one of the only interracial children around. Mick who told Duck that he was beautiful.
Duck fell hard for Mick and didn’t get up for a decade or so.
They were artists – two painters and a sculpture – and bartenders, house painters, and mechanics during the day. Mick’s hands were constantly dry and cracked from clay or plaster or whatever medium he was using at the time. Adeline and Duck were covered in spots of colour, never able to fully wash off their life.
They lived together, created together, and showed together. Duck’s success became their success and vice versa.
It was his life and he loved it, grew stronger, prouder, and forceful in his views. He said the word ‘queer’ now and sent his parents long letters telling them about everything in his life, everything but how it was all falling apart.
Title: Hours
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Characters:Duck MacDonald
Prompt:006. Hours
Word Count:540
Rating:PG
Author's Notes:Part of the Life and Times of Duck MacDonald arc.
Adeline laughed happily and pushed the drawing pad towards Mick. She reached for her coffee with her other hand, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. Mick took the drawing pad and began to sketch quickly, leaning against Duck’s shoulder the whole time.
“No fucking peeking,” Mick said, elbowing him lightly. “You can’t look until it’s your turn.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Duck said, looking at Adeline instead. He drank his coffee, his eyes trailing over her smiling mouth, the dimple in her chin, the harsh line of her jaw. “Anyone want another coffee?”
“Please.” Adeline pushed her cup towards Duck. “Tell Betsy she’s got to start making it stronger or else we’re going to have to switch to espresso.”
“You can tell Betsy yourself,” Duck said as he got up, pressing a kiss to Mick’s curls. “You want one?”
Mick shook his head. “I’m wired enough already. Get me a glass of water though.”
Duck rolled his eyes, making small talk with Betsy as she refilled their coffees for free, handing them off along with Mick’s water. He looked at the clock behind the counter, the time weighing heavily on his mind.
Adeline was snickering and swinging her legs, her pigtails only further adding to her childlike appearance. At 30 she looked the same as she did ten years earlier. Duck sat back down, handing off the fresh drinks.
“Here,” Mick said, handing him the drawing pad. “Your turn to dazzle us with your brilliance.”
Duck reached into his bag, taking out a pill container. He looked at the drawing, trying to puzzle it out as he took out Mick’s pills. He handed them off to him, watching as Mick swallowed them down before he replaced the container in his bag.
“Which one of you is dropping acid?” asked Duck, his voice warm as he picked up the pencil. “Because someone is really fucking bad at perspective.”
Adeline pointed at Mick immediately. “Hi. Take a look at the sculptor before you look at the painter.”
Duck eyed her over the pad, his gaze sliding over to rest on Mick. “I’m going to have to believe her there. I remember trying to teach you perspective back in Drawing 1.”
“What the fuck ever. Just do your part,” Mick said as he pushed away from the table. “Be right back.”
Duck watched him go, his fingers tight around the pencil. He heard the snap before he registered the pencil breaking. Adeline didn’t say anything, just handed him another pencil.
“Better get rid of it before he gets back,” she said calmly. “He hates knowing you’re worrying about him.”
“Yeah,” Duck muttered. “God forbid we acknowledge that he’s fucking *dying*.”
“Once we acknowledge it, what hope does he have?” asked Adeline quietly. She lifted her cup of coffee. “I for one would rather pretend he has forever instead of counting the hours like you do.”
Duck stared at the drawing pad in front of him and the pieces of broken pencil. “Right. So what were you trying to draw anyway?”
Adeline shrugged delicately. “Nothing special. But I think Mick was trying to draw a dick.”
“Well,” Duck said with a tight smile as he picked up the new pencil. “I better draw some tits then.”
Title: Parents
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Characters:Duck MacDonald
Prompt:027. Parents
Word Count:552
Rating:PG
Author's Notes:Part of the Life and Times of Duck MacDonald arc.
“We’ve been expecting you.”
Duck looked up from the tea kettle, his eyes going to the door. He hadn’t even heard the knock which was surprising considering he was so fucking nervous right now.
Adeline nudged him a little, taking the tea kettle. “Go. I’ll pour the tea and leave it here. If you need me, I’ll be in my room. Hiding.”
Duck nodded quickly, giving her fingers a fleeting squeeze before going out into the living room, crowded with easels, unfinished paintings, and Mick’s sculptures. He walked over to Mick, standing just to the left of him, his eyes on Mick’s parents and the way they hovered in the doorway, staring at their son.
“Please,” Duck said softly. “Come inside. Let me take your coats.”
“Sit down, Mum,” Mick said after a moment. “Do you want anything to drink? Duck – uh. Walter just made tea.”
“Tea would be lovely,” Mrs. Johansson said, sitting down on the couch. “Thank you, Walter.”
Duck tried not to flinch at the name, smiling politely. “Mr. Johansson? Tea?”
“No,” Mr. Johansson said shortly, sitting down next to his wife. “We came, Michael. You said it was important.”
Duck got three mugs of tea, suddenly embarrassed at the cracked handles and unmatched patterns. His mother had raised him better than this. He set the mugs on the low bench that served as a coffee table before sitting next to Mick.
Mick closed his eyes briefly, his head bowed. He reached for Duck’s hand blindly and Duck reached back, tangling their fingers together tightly. He looked at Mick’s mother, her grey-streaked red hair and kind blue eyes, hoping that it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her.
“I … “ Mick cleared his throat, leaning forward to take a sip of his tea. His mother did the same. Mick set the mug down on the table, his hand shaking. “I’m sick.”
Mr. Johansson stood up quickly and began to pace. “Do you have *it*?”
“Yes,” Mick said, his voice shaky. “I do.”
Mrs. Johansson let out a gasp, pressing a hand to her mouth. She closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. Duck felt Mick’s hand tighten on his own and he just rubbed the knuckles soothingly.
“How long?” asked Mr. Johansson quietly, his hand on his wife’s shoulder. She was clutching at it and crying silently now.
“We got the diagnosis about two months ago,” Duck said quietly. “But he’s been sick for about a year now. We just didn’t know what it was.”
“You have it too?” Mr. Johansson was staring at the tea now and Duck felt sick to his stomach.
“No,” Mick said, moving a little closer to Duck. “Walter doesn’t have it. He’s been tested. Mum’s tea is safe, Dad.”
Mr. Johansson stared at him tightly. “Don’t talk to me like that, Michael. How did you expect us to react?”
“Shut up, both of you.” Mrs. Johansson pushed her husband’s hand away. “Just shut up. I will not have the two of you arguing like this. Not now.”
Mick slumped a little. “I’m sorry.”
Duck watched as Mick’s father sat down again, his hands clenched together tightly. His eyes were bright as he looked intently at the rug on the floor.
“Tell us everything,” Mrs. Johansson said quietly. “We need to know.”