polychromatic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
polychromatic) wrote2010-11-05 09:34 am
polychromatic) wrote2010-11-05 09:34 am
Entry tags:
a modern-day fairytale
Pushing Daisies
Laundry
Ned | Chuck
For a![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fullerverse drabble challenge.
250 words.
Prompt: Laundry.
“That’s my shirt, you know. Not that I’d think you wouldn’t know, I just thought I’d be helpful and point it out anyway just in case. Although I’d think the size difference would be a big enough hint.”
“It feels a bit like playing dress-up,” Chuck laughed, the hem of Ned’s shirt brushing against her knees, “Remember when we used to dig through that trunk of old clothes my dad had? And how I convinced you to be the Maid Marian to my Robin Hood because I wanted to play the boy for once?”
“To be fair, I was besotted. And nine. And did I mention besotted? Because I didn’t exactly want to get on your bad side, Chuck, not even back then,” he smiled at the sight of her, nearly swallowed whole, “So are you claiming my shirt? Is this going to become a habit, you digging through my laundry? I’m not saying I mind, it looks better on you anyway.”
“It smells like you,” she said by way of explanation, pulling the collar up over her nose and breathing deeply, “Eau de Ned. It’s like being wrapped up in a big bear hug of all the things I love most about you.”
And as The Piemaker watched the girl he loved claim this small piece of himself, he could only think how unfair it was that he would never be able to squeeze into one of her dresses for a bear hug of his own.
Pushing Daisies
a different kind of birthday
Ned, Chuck, Emerson, Olive
412 words.
Drabble for a "birthday" prompt.
“Did you know it’s my birthday today?”
Emerson Cod had, in fact, not known that it was Lonely Tourist Charlotte Charles’ birthday. As it was, he had been fairly certain that he had already begrudgingly parted with some money to buy an obligatory present to bring to the obligatory party that was often thrown on such an occasion. “How many birthdays you got, Dead Girl? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure we done all that celebratin’ back in December, and my checkbook ain’t gonna say any different.”
“It’s her other birthday,” Ned helpfully supplied as he deposited a Golden Cherry Crimson Pear pie on the table, one pink candle perched precariously on top. Grinning at the Birthday Girl Apparent, he scooted into the booth beside her, leaving exactly five-and-three-eighths of an inch of space between them, “I made this one with fresh fruit so I can partake in the festivities and merry-making.”
“Well, I do love a good merry-making session,” Chuck laughed in return, “It’s especially fun when you get to be the centre of attention, even if it’s just for a little while!”
“The two o’ you are touched in the head or somethin’,” Emerson muttered, shaking out the paper that he had been so rudely interrupted from reading, “If it ain’t on your birth certificate, I ain’t celebratin’ it”
“We’re celebrating? Well, c’mon, let that old cat out of the bag! What’re we celebrating?” Olive Snook trilled excitedly as she plunked down Emerson’s coffee on the table and herself in the booth next to the exasperated detective who was, at this very moment, arching his eyebrow at a visibly panicking Pie-Maker.
“Um. Well. It’s a… it’s kind of hard to explain in that--” Ned stammered.
“It’s the day I started my new life,” Chuck replied simply.
The Pie-Maker coughed violently into his napkin.
“Huh?” said Olive.
“It’s the anniversary of the day I first came to The Pie Hole,” Chuck explained, looking around fondly at the diner-style eatery, suppressing thoughts of a blue and yellow house with red trimmings and its inhabitants dwelling inside.
“Oh. Right,” replied Olive with a conspiratorial nod and wink, her head filled with thoughts of the IRS, FBI, and CIA and whether Chuck’s faked death had anything to do with those or any other similarly acronym’d agencies.
And once The Pie-Maker had regained his ability to breathe again long enough to light the candle, Charlotte Charles closed her eyes, held her breath, and made a wish.
Laundry
Ned | Chuck
For a
fullerverse drabble challenge.250 words.
Prompt: Laundry.
“That’s my shirt, you know. Not that I’d think you wouldn’t know, I just thought I’d be helpful and point it out anyway just in case. Although I’d think the size difference would be a big enough hint.”
“It feels a bit like playing dress-up,” Chuck laughed, the hem of Ned’s shirt brushing against her knees, “Remember when we used to dig through that trunk of old clothes my dad had? And how I convinced you to be the Maid Marian to my Robin Hood because I wanted to play the boy for once?”
“To be fair, I was besotted. And nine. And did I mention besotted? Because I didn’t exactly want to get on your bad side, Chuck, not even back then,” he smiled at the sight of her, nearly swallowed whole, “So are you claiming my shirt? Is this going to become a habit, you digging through my laundry? I’m not saying I mind, it looks better on you anyway.”
“It smells like you,” she said by way of explanation, pulling the collar up over her nose and breathing deeply, “Eau de Ned. It’s like being wrapped up in a big bear hug of all the things I love most about you.”
And as The Piemaker watched the girl he loved claim this small piece of himself, he could only think how unfair it was that he would never be able to squeeze into one of her dresses for a bear hug of his own.
Pushing Daisies
a different kind of birthday
Ned, Chuck, Emerson, Olive
412 words.
Drabble for a "birthday" prompt.
“Did you know it’s my birthday today?”
Emerson Cod had, in fact, not known that it was Lonely Tourist Charlotte Charles’ birthday. As it was, he had been fairly certain that he had already begrudgingly parted with some money to buy an obligatory present to bring to the obligatory party that was often thrown on such an occasion. “How many birthdays you got, Dead Girl? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure we done all that celebratin’ back in December, and my checkbook ain’t gonna say any different.”
“It’s her other birthday,” Ned helpfully supplied as he deposited a Golden Cherry Crimson Pear pie on the table, one pink candle perched precariously on top. Grinning at the Birthday Girl Apparent, he scooted into the booth beside her, leaving exactly five-and-three-eighths of an inch of space between them, “I made this one with fresh fruit so I can partake in the festivities and merry-making.”
“Well, I do love a good merry-making session,” Chuck laughed in return, “It’s especially fun when you get to be the centre of attention, even if it’s just for a little while!”
“The two o’ you are touched in the head or somethin’,” Emerson muttered, shaking out the paper that he had been so rudely interrupted from reading, “If it ain’t on your birth certificate, I ain’t celebratin’ it”
“We’re celebrating? Well, c’mon, let that old cat out of the bag! What’re we celebrating?” Olive Snook trilled excitedly as she plunked down Emerson’s coffee on the table and herself in the booth next to the exasperated detective who was, at this very moment, arching his eyebrow at a visibly panicking Pie-Maker.
“Um. Well. It’s a… it’s kind of hard to explain in that--” Ned stammered.
“It’s the day I started my new life,” Chuck replied simply.
The Pie-Maker coughed violently into his napkin.
“Huh?” said Olive.
“It’s the anniversary of the day I first came to The Pie Hole,” Chuck explained, looking around fondly at the diner-style eatery, suppressing thoughts of a blue and yellow house with red trimmings and its inhabitants dwelling inside.
“Oh. Right,” replied Olive with a conspiratorial nod and wink, her head filled with thoughts of the IRS, FBI, and CIA and whether Chuck’s faked death had anything to do with those or any other similarly acronym’d agencies.
And once The Pie-Maker had regained his ability to breathe again long enough to light the candle, Charlotte Charles closed her eyes, held her breath, and made a wish.