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crack_van2013-12-11 05:51 pm
jupirock.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2013-12-11 05:51 pm
Entry tags:
Mumbly by emilystarr1 (PG-13)
Fandom: PUSHING DAISIES
Pairing: Olive/Ned (unrequited), Ned/Chuck
Length: 4853
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
emilystarr1
Author Website: AO3
Why this must be read:
Olive, let's face it, should've found out about Ned. And if she was going to, it should've gone like this. This story captures her perfectly, in all her tenacity, chronic nosiness, and desire not to be left out in the cold. It draws a subtle but important connection between her neglectful childhood and her issues with Ned, presents a plausible explanation for Ned's absolute refusal to tell her (apart from his vaguely pathological paranoia, anyway), and gives several nice insights into her relationship with the gang, all under a healthy layer of canon-style wackiness.
Olive Snook has never liked secrets – unless they were her own. When she was four years, three months, and eleven days old and the glittering red-and-green explosive pomp that was Christmas was swirling around her in a veritable hurricane of trees and tinsel and cookies and stockings, young Olive became curious about the white-bearded man who brought her gifts each year – which her parents told her was entirely dependent upon whether she had been good or not and which Olive now knew to be absolutely untrue, as she still had the glorious rocking pony she had asked for last year and gotten, despite what she thought of as The Incident At The Playground that had happened the summer before when her parent's backs had been turned.
When Olive became curious about things, she simply asked about them. But this time when she asked, her parents had shared an odd, forbidding little look that had sent a very unpleasant shiver down young Olive Snook's back, settling as a cold little pool of sickness in her stomach. They answered her question, telling her that Santa had many helpers and this was how he defied the laws of time and physics. Olive would have none of it.
Her parents, she knew, were lying.
And so it was that on Christmas Eve night Young Olive made it her business to sneak downstairs and watch for this Mr. Claus – or for whatever it was her parents were surely hiding. For a moment, sitting up in bed in her bright yellow footie pyjamas, Olive considered that perhaps this was not the best course of action. In fact, she decided quite surely that it was not.
But she also decided her curiosity burned too painfully for her to bear.
This was how she came to see her parents carefully placing several stuffed animals and Clue Jr. under the tree. The same stuffed animals and Clue Jr. that, the very next day, they attributed to the kindness of Santa Claus.
And so Olive Snook learned that some secrets were simply better kept.
It is now twenty-six years, eleven months and twelve days later, and Olive Snook is currently stuffed into body locker 24C, desperately holding her breath and the decidedly hot nose of a happy dog, trying to muffle his snufflings at the same time as trying to keep his overeager tail from thumping loudly against the metal surrounding them and thereby giving them away, wondering just how in the heck she got here in the first place.
Mumbly
Pairing: Olive/Ned (unrequited), Ned/Chuck
Length: 4853
Author on LJ:
emilystarr1Author Website: AO3
Why this must be read:
Olive, let's face it, should've found out about Ned. And if she was going to, it should've gone like this. This story captures her perfectly, in all her tenacity, chronic nosiness, and desire not to be left out in the cold. It draws a subtle but important connection between her neglectful childhood and her issues with Ned, presents a plausible explanation for Ned's absolute refusal to tell her (apart from his vaguely pathological paranoia, anyway), and gives several nice insights into her relationship with the gang, all under a healthy layer of canon-style wackiness.
Olive Snook has never liked secrets – unless they were her own. When she was four years, three months, and eleven days old and the glittering red-and-green explosive pomp that was Christmas was swirling around her in a veritable hurricane of trees and tinsel and cookies and stockings, young Olive became curious about the white-bearded man who brought her gifts each year – which her parents told her was entirely dependent upon whether she had been good or not and which Olive now knew to be absolutely untrue, as she still had the glorious rocking pony she had asked for last year and gotten, despite what she thought of as The Incident At The Playground that had happened the summer before when her parent's backs had been turned.
When Olive became curious about things, she simply asked about them. But this time when she asked, her parents had shared an odd, forbidding little look that had sent a very unpleasant shiver down young Olive Snook's back, settling as a cold little pool of sickness in her stomach. They answered her question, telling her that Santa had many helpers and this was how he defied the laws of time and physics. Olive would have none of it.
Her parents, she knew, were lying.
And so it was that on Christmas Eve night Young Olive made it her business to sneak downstairs and watch for this Mr. Claus – or for whatever it was her parents were surely hiding. For a moment, sitting up in bed in her bright yellow footie pyjamas, Olive considered that perhaps this was not the best course of action. In fact, she decided quite surely that it was not.
But she also decided her curiosity burned too painfully for her to bear.
This was how she came to see her parents carefully placing several stuffed animals and Clue Jr. under the tree. The same stuffed animals and Clue Jr. that, the very next day, they attributed to the kindness of Santa Claus.
And so Olive Snook learned that some secrets were simply better kept.
It is now twenty-six years, eleven months and twelve days later, and Olive Snook is currently stuffed into body locker 24C, desperately holding her breath and the decidedly hot nose of a happy dog, trying to muffle his snufflings at the same time as trying to keep his overeager tail from thumping loudly against the metal surrounding them and thereby giving them away, wondering just how in the heck she got here in the first place.
Mumbly