#also the bow and arrow running gag is hands down my favorite part of this whole thing XD

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Ruining KISStory: The False King of Persia, Pt. 1

Oh my, what could this be? Why, it’s another Ruining KISStory installment! I am officially back home for the rest of the semester, so I decided, what the hell, and finished this up for y’all! This has to be the most hilarious episode, and it’s also my absolute favorite, so prepare thyselves! Part 2 will be posted shortly! Hope you enjoooooy!!!

Tag list: @cosmicrealmofkissteria @ashestoashesvvi @kategwidt @retronova

[camera opens on Paul, who is sitting at a panel. A map of the world is hung up behind him. The sound of tuning violins plays in the background]

PAUL: Welcome to Ruining History! Today we’re gonna talk about the ascension of Darius the Great.

[camera pans out to the full panel. From left to right: Vinnie, Gene, Paul, Bruce, Ace]

BRUCE: Darius?

PAUL: Darius.

BRUCE: That’s a kinda modern name. I know like five Dariuses.

PAUL: Well, maybe they were inspired by this guy.

BRUCE: [shrugs] All of ‘em are pretty average. [panel laughs]

[intro and title card]

[cuts back to panel]

PAUL: You guys know anything about Darius?

BRUCE: He’s a bass player.

PAUL: [laughs slightly] Heh, no, I mean Darius the Great.

ACE: He’s a bassist and he owes me 40 bucks. [Bruce laughs]

PAUL: He was a Persian king; he was known for uniting the Persian Empire. He’s actually thought to be the greatest Persian king. Also, I should say now: this story is not really about Darius much at all, so much as the weird chain of events that led to him becoming king.

GENE: [seriously] Is Al Capone a part of this story at all?

PAUL: [snorts] Pfft, no, Gene. This is in ancient Persia. There are a lot of characters in this one, so I decided to make models as little visual aids. [reaches under the table and takes out a small figurine labeled CYRUS THE GREAT] Now we’re gonna start with this guy, named Cyrus.

ACE: Oh, that’s a kid on Andi Mack!... Not that I watch.

[screen cuts away to a title card:

CHAPTER I:

A DEAD GUY AND HIS TWO WEIRD SONS

screen then cuts to animations as Paul narrates, while traditional Middle Eastern music plays]

PAUL [voiceover]: First, there was Cyrus the Great, founder of the Achaemenian Empire, which was sort of in this region here, in Turkey, the Middle East, and spilling into Asia. Kind of a big deal. Darius just so happened to be a distant relative of Cyrus, but the king didn’t seem to care for him. As legend tells, he had a dream about the twenty-year-old Darius, in which Darius had, quote, “wings on his shoulders, the one wing overshadowing Asia and the other Europe.” Cyrus interpreted this as a sign that Darius was plotting against him.

ACE: Pretty sure every ex-girlfriend I’ve had…

BRUCE: [nods] Yeah…

ACE: … has gotten pissed at me for doin’ something bad in a dream.

GENE: [nods] I remember that happened with Shannon once.

VINNIE: Is this the time where she banished you to the couch? [Ace laughs]

GENE: [frowns] No, that was something else.

BRUCE: Can I just say, both Cyrus and Darius look like they belong in that one Lloyd-Webber musical.

PAUL: Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?

BRUCE: Yeah, that one.

PAUL [voiceover]: But it wouldn’t really matter what Darius thought, because he was caught up in a conflict with Tomyris, the queen of the Massagetae. And after she slayed him in battle, what she did is, according to some accounts, cut his head off, then dunked it into a skin of blood like a gory Oreo, stating, “I make good my threat, and give you your fill of blood.” So… that’s it for Cyrus.

ACE: Damn!

BRUCE: What’s a skin full of blood?

PAUL: It’s like a wineskin, but with blood.

GENE and VINNIE: Ohhh.

PAUL: [picks up the Cyrus figurine] So that’s— [pulls off Cyrus’s head] —the end for Cyrus.

ACE: Oof, it came right off!

PAUL [voiceover]: Now Cyrus had two sons, Cambyses and Smerdis. Cambyses was described as, quote, “an ardent, impetuous, and self-willed boy, such as the sons of rich and powerful men are apt to become.” And Smerdis was described as… I dunno. His brother.

ACE: [bursts out laughing, as does Vinnie]

PAUL: [takes out figurines labeled CAMBYSES AND SMERDIS] So we got this guy, [holds up Cambyses] Cambyses, who’s got sort of a superior look. And Smerdis, [holds up Smerdis] who’s just sorta chill.

ACE: Me Smerdis! [panel laughs] Kinda got a Charlie Brown sorta tunic on.

PAUL: Yeah, he does. [moves Cambyses and Smerdis to be on either side of the headless Cyrus figurines] I’ll put them here with their dad.

GENE: “Oh, Papa’s head’s missing! Ha ha ha ha!”

PAUL [voiceover]: Being Cyrus’s firstborn son, Cambyses inherited the throne, and very quickly decided to invade Egypt. This made people think he was crazy; and honestly, it’s kinda fair, because he was a bit of a reckless guy. While in Egypt, for example, he asked to see their sacred bull… and then he stabbed it to death.

ACE: [bursts out laughing]

BRUCE: [laughing] Oh my god… Jesus…

ACE: That’s so funny.

VINNIE: Kind of rude. Ancient Egyptians didn’t deserve that.

PAUL: Yeah, it is rude. You show up, ask to see their sacred bull…

ACE [tapping the table] “Can I see your sacred buuuuull? I promise I won’t touch it!”

VINNIE: It would take a long time to stab a bull to death, so I bet they were just like, “Please stop stabbing our bull…”

BRUCE: [laughs] Yeah, and he’s just staring them in the eye and just— [pretends to stab. Gene laughs]

PAUL [voiceover]: Cambyses was also known for his fits of blinding rage and making rash decisions that he would later regret. Take for example, the story of Croesus. Croesus had been a close friend and counselor to Cyrus, who asked him to watch over Cambyses. With that in mind, one day Croesus decided to offer Cambyses some constructive criticism. He warned the king that he’d been treating his men cruelly. Annnnd you can probably guess what was bound to happen to him.

GENE: How so? How was he treating them cruelly?

PAUL: He was known for being really reckless. There’s one story where a guy told Cambyses that he thought he drank too much…

GENE: I’m sure it didn’t end well for that guy.

PAUL: And Cambyses went, “Okay, if that’s true, I shouldn’t be able to shoot a bow.” So he called the man’s son in, and had him stand against the wall, and he said, “If I drink too much, then I’ll probably miss this shot.” And then he shot the man’s son in the heart.

GENE: Oh…

VINNIE: The man’s son?

PAUL: Uh huh.

GENE: Oof… that’s way worse than what I was imagining. I was just imagining him being a bratty dick or something. But no, that’s worse.

PAUL: Yep.

ACE: Maybe he was aimin’ for the face, an’ he really was too drunk. [Bruce laughs]

VINNIE: [laughs] “Oh, I just meant to take out an eye.”

ACE: “Aw man, did you guys see that?!”

GENE: Or he had to play it off like that was his plan all along.

ACE: Wakes up the next morning an’ he’s like [rubs his eyes with his hands] “Ugggh, what did I do last night?” [panel laughs] “Tell me I didn’t murder anyone’s kid.”

PAUL [voiceover]: Anyway, Croesus warned the king that he’d been treating his men cruelly, and that it wasn’t a great way to keep their loyalty. Cambyses responded by telling the supportive old man that he’d always hated him. He pulled out a bow and arrow, and Croesus fled the scene.

VINNIE: Does he just have a bow and arrow on him at all times?

BRUCE: [laughing] He takes out his bow and arrow; “Where’s your son, man?” [panel laughs]

GENE: Love how this guy knew what was coming and was like, “Aw shit, it’s heart-shootin’ time! I’m gettin’ outta here!”

PAUL [voiceover]: Cambyses ordered his officers to chase after the man and kill him. They did chase after him, but knowing the mad king would likely regret having his friend killed, they instead hid Croesus away. A few days later, when, as expected, Cambyses expressed remorse over his actions, his men revealed that—surprise! Croesus was still alive! Cambyses was overjoyed. He then had those guards executed for disobeying him.

[whole panel bursts out laughing]

BRUCE: Jesus Christ!

GENE: What the fuck…

VINNIE: Literally killing the messenger!

ACE: “You’ve brought me such joy… Where’s my bow and arrow?” [panel laughs]

BRUCE: “Bring me my bow and your sons.”

PAUL [voiceover]: Anyway, back to the story. Cambyses decided to bring his brother, Smerdis, along with him to Egypt. It’s thought that Cambyses was jealous of Smerdis, and worried that if he left him alone in Persia, he might stage a coup and seize a throne. Since both brothers were away from their hometown, Cambyses left a magian in charge of keeping an eye on his palace. Magians were basically just a priestly class.

PAUL: I’ve actually got a big Persia set. [takes out a cardboard set that looks like a Persian castle]

VINNIE: Oooh, nice.

PAUL: Thank you. [takes out a figurine labeled MAGIAN and puts it in front of the Persia set]

BRUCE: Wait, so Cambyses is worried that his brother’s gonna seize the throne… so he prevents this by giving the throne to a stranger?

PAUL: I mean, I assume it was someone he trusted.

GENE: Why does—Why does the magian have red eyes? Is that a—artistic thing?

PAUL: He’s a spooky magician.

GENE: Okay.

ACE: [giggling] Or he’s just high as fuck.

GENE: [snickering] So in his free time, he’s a pothead magician.

BRUCE: All magicians are potheads.

ACE: I dunno, I always thought magicians were more cocaine guys.

PAUL: [thinks and nods] Yeah, I guess that makes sense. They’re got a lot of energy.

GENE: Not David Blaine.

ACE: Ah, yeah, that’s true.

GENE: No one’s ever had to tell David Blaine to calm down.

PAUL [voiceover]: Meanwhile, in Egypt: Cambyses had a troubling dream about Smerdis, in which he saw his brother, quote, “seated on a royal throne in Persia, his form expanded supernaturally to such a prodigious size that he touched the heavens with his head.” Fed up with Smerdis, he ordered him to skedaddle back to Persia. And then he seemed to remember why he was concerned about Smerdis being alone in Persia in the first place. So, he called upon one of his men, Prexaspes

[panel ooohs as Paul takes out a figurine labeled PREXASPES]

BRUCE: Oh wow, I didn’t know we had a stylist here!

VINNIE: That’s a great robe he’s got!

PAUL: [looks at the camera] Full disclosure: none of these drawings are historically accurate.

BRUCE: [looks at the camera] All of these drawings are historically accurate.

ACE: They might be. Prove ‘im wrong.

PAUL: Prove me wrong!

PAUL [voiceover]: Cambyses called upon one of his men, Prexaspes, to track down Smerdis and secretly assassinate him. Prexaspes would do so, and he succeeded. He returned to the king and gave him the good news: Smerdis, his one serious threat to his power, was now dead.

PAUL: Also, [laughs] I don’t know where this fits in the story, but Prexaspes was the guy whose son was killed by Cambyses.

ACE: No way?! [bursts out laughing as the rest of the panel laughs]

GENE: That’s hilarious!

VINNIE: Also [giggles] the name Prexaspes sounds like a medication of some kind.

ACE: [laughs] “Ask your doctor if Prexaspes is right for you.”

PAUL [voiceover]: Shortly after, though, Cambyses would receive more news, some rather shocking news given the circumstances. In his absence, his throne had been taken… by SMERDIS?! Yep, by Smerdis.

ACE: [looks comically shocked] The dead Smerdis?!

BRUCE: Oh shit!

PAUL: So we know have this mysterious Smerdis. [takes out a figurine identical to the Smerdis figure, except it is labeled SMERDIS(?)]

ACE: So someone,, posing as Smerdis… See this is why people get verified on Twitter.

BRUCE: [laughs and nods] I mean, yeah, you’ve got a point. [to Paul] You should put a blue check mark over the real Smerdis.

PAUL: [grins and points his finger at the Smerdis figurine. A blue Twitter checkmark appears on the head as well as a text box that says VERIFIED]

GENE: Wait a minute, did he ever consider that the guy lied about what he did?

PAUL: No, he trusts that guy.

GENE: I just think it’s odd that he immediately thinks its an imposter, instead of thinking the guy was lying.

[screen cuts away to a title card:

CHAPTER II:

TO BE SMERDIS OR NOT TO BE SMERDIS

screen then cuts to animations as Paul narrates]

PAUL [voiceover]: Cambyses was, at first, greatly confuzzled by this recent development. Until someone reminded him of an important little detail, that made it clear to him that this must have been a power grab by an opportunistic usurper. I’m gonna leave that detail a mystery for now so that you continue to watch this video…

GENE: How does no one in the kingdom know this isn’t the real Smerdis?

BRUCE: It’s the beards, man. [Ace and Vinnie laugh]

GENE: Are you sure? I feel like…

BRUCE: Nah, man, everyone’s got a beard, ya can’t tell anyone apart.

ACE: “Alright, if you’re Smerdis, what did I give you for your birthday last year?” “An urn.” “Damn, it is Smerdis!”

To be continued in Part 2!

[seasonsofeverlark]

Spreading Christmas Cheer

Author: @mega-aulover​

Prompt: Everlark the movie Elf [submitted by @alliswell21​]

Rating: G

Author’s Note: This is a story based off of the movie Elf as requested by @alliswell21​ It’s from “Jovie” i.e. Katniss POV, what she would have seen and fell in love with one Peeta ‘Buddy’ Mellark. 

Special thanks to @norbertsmom​ for her betaing skill and for the name of the story. Parts 3 and 4 will post separately.

_____________

Pt 1

I watch Peeta gently kiss the top of our first born’s head. Holly’s dark hair is braided into two plaits; her blue eyes closing softly. 

“And Papa Elf said, grandpa was on the naughty list…” his voice is soft.

Suddenly Holly’s eyes widen as she remembers something. Her blue eyes are laser focused on Peeta. “Papá, es verdad que mamá estaba en la  lista de los niños malos?”   

“Y quien te dijo esto?” I ask from the door. We never discuss my role in Peeta’s adventure, or the fact that I was on the naughty list. Ever. 

“Santa,” Holly says.

Ese gordo, Santa has loose lips. I think about teaching him about keeping secrets until it’s time to explain to our child about the past. But before I can say anything, Peeta gives me a look. He always knows when I’m having evil thoughts. I sigh, and redirect my thoughts, because Peeta made me believe in love, joy, and Christmas.    

“Your papa saved more than grandpa that Christmas. He saved me too.”

Holly’s eyes lit up like her father’s before the sleepiness creeps back into their depths.

“Now go to sleep so Santa can come down the chimney.”

“Night, mama, night papa,” Holly whispers right before she drifts off to sleep. 

Together we walk out of our daughters bedroom. Peeta slides an arm around my shoulders. He dips down and nuzzles my cheek. He steers me to the living room. I drag my feet. Peeta is up to something.

“Okay, spill it, Mellark.”

He gives me a wide eyed smile.

The hair at the back of my neck stands up straight. 

He’s got that look, that please tell me a bedtime story stare, and not just any story. 

“No.”

Peeta pauses and gives me a puppy dog look with a full lip pout.

“No.”

“Come on, Sweetums, my li’l sugar plum,” Peeta says in an excited whisper.

“No…no don’t waggle your eyebrows at me, Peeta. Buddy. Mellark.” I pronounce each one of his names.

Peeta’s grins so brightly; his eyes shine brighter than Christmas lights. His hat is slightly crooked as he hops and does that stupid little dance of his that makes me want to tear off his green tights. Yep, I said tights. My husband was raised as an elf, a six foot two, blond, wavy haired, giant with broad shoulders, washboard abs, and is genuinely sweet. Sweeter than eggnog.

He grabs me by the waist. “You know you wanna,” he says in that sexy time voice of his that’s reserved only for me. 

Canasto! 

I should clarify for everyone listening to my tale; you should know canasto isn’t a vulgar or bad word. It means basket. But I like the way it sounds in Spanish. So I say it with real vehemence. It’s like peaches in Spanish sounds like a curse word. Melocotón! Tu eres un Melocotón! Which translates into you’re a peach. 

I digress.

I let out a big sigh. There’s no way I can say no to him and he knows it! Canasto!

“I love it when you tell the story of how we met from your point of view.“ 

"You’re an evil gremlin,” I say with no heat in my voice. It’s my personal nickname for him. As in the gremlins when they ate after midnight. However to be fair, if you see Peeta, he’s not scary at all, he’s more like a big teddy bear.  

Peeta laughs and my heart flip flops. Because he is anything but; he is so congenial.

Peeta puts his hands on my belly, my very big belly. It’s baby number 2; actually it’s baby number two and three. They are counted as one until they’re born. I know what he’s doing, the evil gremlin! He’s trying to distract me because I’m due to give birth. I have mild pangs because I’m carrying twins and I’m nearing my due date.

He carries me and sits me on his lap. “Now start from the beginning.”

“From the candy cane forest?” I ask.

“No from your point of view,” his eyes dance gently as he rests me against his chest, rubbing my bulging belly.

“Okay,” I say quietly.

“Don’t forget to start with once upon a time,” Peeta insists, trying to contain his excitement.

“Once upon a time.”

“This is going to be good,” Peeta whispers.

“Are you going to let me tell the story?”

“Oh yea,” Peeta placed a kiss on my nose. “Go ahead.”

Closing my eyes I picture the year things changed. Because everything in my life was about others and never myself. I was always trying to be someone else, what everyone expected of me. 

It’s hard being a foster kid, and getting out of the system is kind of like getting out of jail. Suddenly you have all this freedom, but you’ve been conditioned to follow all of these rules, so when you are free, you do one of two things. You get in trouble, and try to get sent into an institution; some of us call it the iron college. Or you try to keep your nose clean and learn in the school of hard knocks. In my case, I kept my head above the water for my sister’s sake.  

“I love my family,” I muttered underneath my breath. 

I muttered it again as my sister destroyed, no scratch that, mutilated Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas."  

Did I forget to mention that I love my family?   

I do. I love my family and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them, but at that moment I wanted to scratch my ears out with dull spoons.  

My perfect baby sister is a smoking hot blonde runway model and the muse for Karl Lagerfeld, but she has the worst singing voice known to man. You want to torture someone, hire my sister, and have her sing to the person you want to torture. Within 3 seconds flat, she can have even the most hardened of spies spilling their guts like a canary.

The one thing I could not stand beside my sister’s singing was Christmas. 

I loathed Christmas.

I was not ashamed to say it.  Every fiber of my body I hated Christmas!   If I had ever met the real Santa back then, he had better hoped that I was not holding my bow and arrow, because I would have shot him through the eye. Not that I believed in Santa then, but if I had known there was a real life Santa Claus, I’d have hunted him down, and burned the fat man’s jolly red outfit. I would then gleefully take a joy ride in his sleigh into his workshop like Bill Murray did in Groundhog Day when he allowed the groundhog to drive him off the cliff into a fiery death.

At this point you are wondering why I hated Christmas so much.

There were many reasons why the holiday was so contemptible to me. One, my father died on Christmas day. Two, my mother checked out on us that same Christmas day. The next Christmas Eve was when my sister and I were separated into different foster homes.  It took me a few months to find my six-year-old baby sister. I had been sent to a foster family who used foster kids for slave labor, to have them wipe and clean their floors while the Mrs. of the family spent the whole day in luxurious spas and getting Botox treatments, as if that was going to improve her mug. 

My baby sister was luckier. Primrose was placed in a foster home in the middle of suburbia with a 2 story house with a picket fence. A woman named Cecilia and her husband Ronald had never been able to have kids, and they doted on my sister. They brought her up to be the princess she always said she was. Honestly, they were rather shocked when my twelve-year-old cynical self rolled up into their home screaming for my baby sister, Primrose. Prim came running out of nowhere and latched herself on to my leg like an octopus. Best Spring ever, so I do love the Spring. 

But before you think we were reunited, we weren’t. The family that had Primrose never wanted me. And even if they did, we technically didn’t have the same last name. Primrose carried my mom’s last name while I carried my dad’s. My sister was Primrose Emmerson and I was Katniss Everdeen. Our parents had a silly agreement. They were also foster kids, so they decided that I would take dad’s name and the next one born would take our mothers name. 

They didn’t have family, and her parents lived a common law marriage. Their childish decision caused havoc. There was a mix up and we weren’t processed as sisters. Plus, I never stayed in the same foster home for long so even if they wanted me, they never knew where I was, but no matter where I was, I found a way to talk to Primrose, because as long as Prim was loved and cared for, my situation didn’t matter.

After our brief reunion, I had to go back to the family that I was placed in, and my sister stayed with her family. I didn’t stay with mine for very long; I became a statistic. A rolling number on someone’s computer screen. I was bounced around from one family to another in all sorts of seedy homes. 

So you can see why I’m so jaded. Every bad thing that ever happened to me, has happened on that freakin’ holiday. And there was one more reason I disliked that holly jolly holiday so immensely. For some reason, the universe hated me. 

No matter where I went, what city, what town within the state, I could guarantee you that it was a racket, a billion dollar racket to make parents crazy and buy things for their kids they didn’t need. For some reason, it pleased people to take my olive skin, dark hair, scowling self and put me into a sparkly Christmas cheer, “gag” pointy eared elf costume.

So with a week until Christmas, I was listening to my sister butcher another holiday favorite song. Then Prim screeched. And I sighed in relief.

"Katniss,” Prim said, coming out of the bathroom. “The water is cold!”

I looked heavenward. “The pipes. I forgot they’re working on the water main outside. They said there would be interruption to service.”

“Oh, you know I can get us a hotel room,” Prim said toweling dry her pale blonde locks. 

My studio apartment wasn’t what my sister was used to. She was a freaking couture runway model, six foot one, so slim nothing off the rack fit her. “I’m sorry Prim, I was so excited to see you.”

Prim smiled. “Look, I only have a few hours left. How about I treat you to lunch before I go back up to Connecticut to spend Christmas with Cecillia and Ron.” Prim smiled at me. “You know you’re more than welcome to come. They always ask about you.”

I loved my baby sister. She was amazing. And I was damned glad that the Henderson's were an amazing couple, but I knew the score. They didn’t know what to do with me. “As long as you don’t mind me wearing my elf costume.”

Primrose chuckled. “You make the cutest elf though.” She patted me on the head using a baby tone with me. Prim was taller than me by a foot. I was tiny, or as Prim said, compact size.

“I could still put you over my knee, little duck,” I growled. “Así que mira ver.”

My sister laughed and she delighted in taunting me. Prim no longer spoke Spanish, but she understood the language. “You’re adorable when you’re angry, an angry little elf, aren’t you?”

“Primrose,” I said in Spanish. I rounded my ‘r’s’ when I said her name. 

“Awe, I don’t don’t get why you hate Christmas so much.” Primrose winked going to the screen divider to get dressed. My sister was used to dressing and undressing in front of dozens of people. I, on the other hand, was not so free with nudity. Primrose said I was a prude. If I hadn’t I told her to use the screen, she would have changed right in front of me. 

“Did you know there are only three jobs an elf can have,” Prim said from over the screen. 

I sighed. Unlike me, Primrose loved Christmas. Hell, she even suggested that there might be a real Santa Claus. I told her the only people who look for ways to sneak into people’s houses were criminals. 

Prim continued her story about elves. “The type of elves that live in trees and make cookies, the types that make shoes, and the best type.”

“Let me guess, Christmas elves,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Prim grinned. She came around the screen wearing thigh high red boots, jeans and a camel tunic sweater that looked like cashmere. “Come on sis, let me treat you to breakfast so that you can go terrorize the children of Macy’s toy department.”

  Pt 2 

Peeta grins excitedly, breaking the narration. “You know she’s right. Papa says the cookie elves have high insurance premiums because their tree catches fire all of the time.” 

“Peeta,” I huff. “Do you want me to finish the story?” 

“Absolutely,” he hugs me closer. “I’m so sad you and Prim never got to grow up at the North Pole with me.”

I can’t help but smile at his sincere wish. “Oh Peeta,” I kiss his cheek.

“The only thing I would never let you do was toy testing,” Peeta whispers.

I chuckled. Peeta hated Jack-In-The-Box’s. They scare the dickens out of him. I lay my head on his shoulders. “Are you going to let me finish the story?”

“You know,” he says, blue eyes twinkling. “I’d spotted you in the city that first day.” 

“You were jumping across the lines of the cross walk, “ I grin at the memory. 

“I followed you until I saw the Empire State Building. Then I went to see my father.”

“I know,” I caress his face.

“Start from that point.”

“Okay, you ready now.” My babies were moving in my belly.

“Right, you were in your father’s office delivering the most awkward Christmas gram.” 

Peeta chuckles. “I don’t have your pretty voice.”

I sigh. “Peeta.”

“Right, I’ll be quiet.”

I give him a look. 

“But just so you know, when those guards told me to go back to Macy’s, I was curious as to why you were dressed as an elf.“

I roll my eyes. Did I forget to mention my husband is a talker. He is a chatterbox. I swear Peeta is the type who’d make friends with a paper bag.

"I thought your elf name was so pretty,” he sighs happily.

“Peeta, if you want me to tell the story. You have to hush!” I admonish, if I didn’t we would be here until tomorrow.

“Oh,” he gushes. “Yes, tell the story.” 

“So, there I was in the middle of New York, like a morsel in shark infested waters. I.E….”

“That passion fruit spray is horrible,” Peeta grumbles. “I do not know how women drink that stuff.” 

I want to laugh. There are still things that Peeta doesn’t understand about human society; perfume was one of them, and that fact endeared him to me.

“Can you start at the moment our eyes met?” Peeta gives me a wobbly smile. 

Ah, now I know why he’s interrupting so much. “Okay.”

Sighing I recall that day. Prim and I were out to breakfast. She was harping on me to find someone. Did I fall to mention Primrose was only twenty years old at the time, and at that age I was ancient at the tender age of twenty six. Seriously twenty-six. So what if I had never dated, never had a boyfriend, and never kissed anyone. My sister was right. I was a prude, but I’d seen how love could screw you over. My mom never recovered and she died alone in some home of a broken heart. All I had in the world was my sister. My Prim, and she was the only person I would love. Until that afternoon. 

“Seriously Katniss, you’re twenty-six,” Prim said. 

Eye rolling was a national pastime when speaking to a glamazon who thought I needed to date.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Prim said, removing my sunglasses. “And also, sunglasses in the middle of December, so not tre chique.” 

Eye roll, eye roll, eye roll. Fake smile. CANASTO!

“You are the worst,” Prim hissed.

I knew my sister wasn’t mad at me. Annoyed, yes. Mad, no. “Prim, it’s just I’m not interested in dating anyone.” 

“Katniss, I just don’t want you to impersonate elves for the rest of your life, and when you’re like forty-six, you’ll realize you’re alone with a cat, who pisses in your shoes, and scratches your furniture.” 

I moved to pay our bill.

“No way,” Prim said, slamming her hand on the bill. “I make what you make in a month in two hours of work. This is on me.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. 

“Also, stop closing yourself to Christmas. Santa isn’t going to leave you anything under the tree.”

“Like Santa exists,” I snorted.

Prim gasped. “You take that back. Santa Claus is real Katniss, just like the rainbows, and pigs and frogs having a long term, caring relationship, and love exists.” 

My sister’s wide eyed passionate confession shook me, but the only words that came out of my mouth were, “a frog and a pig?” 

“Miss Piggy and Kermit are together, and if they can make it, no matter what the media says, anything is possible.”

“Huh,” I said, leaving the luncheonette near Penn Station. We walked to the corner, where she’d take the stairs to the lower level. 

I took a look at the stairs, knowing this was the moment I would say goodbye to my sister once again. My eyes filled with unwanted tears. I could still recall the little girl with the untucked shirt that looked like a duck tail. It’s where the nickname li’l duck came from.

“Don’t cry,” Prim whispered. “Quack, quack.”

“I hate it when we have to say goodbye,” I said quietly.

“It’s not goodbye, Katniss; it’s until the next time.” Prim grinned then she took my elf hat and put it on my head. “Go on, terrify the poor children of the city with your menacing scowl. But you better watch out, better not cry.”

I groaned. “Prim, I would rather hear seagulls squawking then you singing.” 

“I know, that’s why I do it,” Prim said.

“You’re a brat.”

“Brat, I’m on Santa’s nice list. You’re the one on the naughty list.”

“There’s no such thing as Santa…” the words died on my lips as I saw a huge man dressed in an elaborate elf outfit jumping on the lines of the crosswalk gleefully. I was struck by the joy on his face.

He looked like an angel with wavy blond hair and innocent blue eyes. It was one thing to see a six-year-old child with that wide eyed innocence, but a tall, broad shouldered man with large hands made me think perhaps he’d escaped his caretakers. His elf outfit wasn’t like the cheap one I had to wear. It was made from a rich fabric with elaborately embroidered gold thread. 

If there was something I knew about, it was fabric. I never had soft fabrics growing up and I was obsessed over soft materials. I dreamed of cashmere, Egyptian cotton, mulberry silks, and linens. His green tunic was made from merino wool, like the ones they made in England in those bespoke shops.  Even his hat, although a ridiculous cone shape, was not some cheap fabric covered cardboard that you’d find in a costume shop. It was made from genuine thick green wool felt with a yellow satin ribbon wrapped around it. A red feather bobbed up and down as he jumped.

He was so happy. He looked up, as if sensing my presence. Our eyes met and he smiled jovially and waved at me. My mouth went dry, because, gaw, Canasto!

This man-child was gorgeous. 

“Earth to Katniss.” Prim snapped her fingers in my face.

“Sorry.” I looked back to my sister.

Prim looked over her shoulder. “Are you okay.”

I dipped out of my sister’s way. “I think I saw an elf.”

Prim laughed. “It’s Christmas, Katniss. Santa’s elves are everywhere.” Prim gave me a hug before descending the stairs to the lower level of the station. 

Seeing my sister go was difficult, but I couldn’t shake the tall man dressed as an elf. He even had on yellow tights with black elf shoes. 

I made my way to Macy’s. I could see the Empire State building in the background as I took a left to head to the employee’s entrance. 

When I arrived, the floor manager Brutus headed straight to me. He was a ridiculous man with muscles in his neck and a bald head. His meaty fingers held a tiny clipboard. 

Brutus did not believe in technology. He refused to use a tablet. He said the muckety-mucks, as he called them, were out to get him. He wore dark brown pants that were too small for his large frame and even when he stood you could see his white socks. He wore a sweater vest with various pens in his front pocket and a cheap plastic necklace that was supposed to look like tree lights.  

“Jovie,” Brutus said looking over his shoulder.

“Yes, Brutus,” I smiled. Jovie was my elf name.

“Our last Santa quit, and we have no one, so until then I need you to help out in gift wrapping. Don’t forget to make sure the ribbon curl is six inches.”

“But you need more than six inches, to make a good curl.”

“Six inches.”

Sighing I walked to the station and nodded to the girls who were at the gift-wrapping station. I sat there trying to make six inch curls. People were insane at Christmas; they were stressed out to buy things, and things never made anyone happy. Things were just things.  

The line of people got shorter and I noticed the tree in the center of the sales floor was looking a little sad. So getting the ladder, I rearranged the ornaments and noticed one of the lights was out. From this vantage point I saw Brutus drag him in, the elf I saw on the street.

Heat rushed to my cheeks and I focused on the tree, eavesdropping the entire time. 

“Buddy, you need to remember you get a half-hour break when you work under six hours and a one hour break when you work over six hours. If I catch you on the floor again I’ll have to write you up.” 

His name was Buddy. My lips formed a goofy smile at his name. Up close he was prettier, his wavy hair curled up at the ends. A shiver ran up my spine at all of those curls. I could picture little boys with blond ringlets and a little girl with dark tresses in green colored elf clothing. I held on to the ladder as I swayed. 

“Wow, what’s this?” HIs eyes quickly darted to the crowded sales floor. 

“This is the north pole,” Brutus said looking at his precious clipboard.

“No it’s not,” Buddy waved at a pair of babies inside of a stroller. 

“Yes it is,” Brutus said.

“No it’s not,” Buddy eye’s traveled to the tree and I hid behind it so that he didn’t see me.

“Yes it is,” Brutus put his hands on his wide hips.

“No it’s not,” Buddy said smiling. “Where’s the snow?”

“He’s right, there’s no snow,” a six-year old girl said. She’d been listening to the conversation.  

I nearly snorted. 

“Why are you smiling like that?” Brutus brows knit together.

“I just like to smile, smiling’s my favorite thing,” he said. Bouncing to the Christmas music that was being pumped through the speakers. 

“Well stop smiling, and make work your favorite thing to do. And who gave you that outfit?”

“It’s mine,” Buddy said, splaying those large hands on his chest looking down at his elf outfit. 

Brutus looked at the intricate gold embroidery. “Fine, if that’s your story. You should make work your priority instead of shopping.” Brutus sighed, looking at his clipboard again. “I have to make the announcement.”

Buddy nodded, but once more was looking around. 

I was working on the tree lights by now and really didn’t want to get down because I wanted to keep staring at him. At his great legs. Normally tall guys had spindly legs. Not his, yum. 

“Okay I’ve got an announcement. Santa will be here tomorrow at 10AM. Keep your receipts so you can see Santa.” 

“SANTA!” Buddy yelled. He jumped, clasped his hands and a little girl next to him joined him. Soon there was a flock of kids doing the same thing, all speaking at once and he was nodding and speaking to them as if he knew Santa. 

I chuckled cause I’ve never seen Brutus look so stunned and speechless. He was carried away by Chaff, his second in command. 

Buddy turned and focused on me. I pretended that he wasn’t just a few feet away from me. I could feel his gaze as I fixed the bulb that was not letting the string of lights to turn on. The tree lit up and I swear his eyes seemed to glow brighter than the lights on the tree.

My stomach did a little flip-flop. “What!” I said defensively. I turned and saw how big his eyes were and the genuine smile. “Are you enjoying the view?”

“I love Christmas trees,” he said hesitantly. “It’s nice to see someone else who enjoys elf culture as much as I do.” 

Of course the guy that would make butterflies dance in my stomach was a wackadoo. I scowled. This wasn’t happening. Getting down from the tree, I quickly walk away, grabbing a few stuffed animals that were discarded and putting them back on the display.

“Looks like someone needs Christmas cheer and the best way to do it is to sing.”

“I don’t sing,” I muttered.

“Of course you can.” He chased after me.

“No,” I said trying to get him to stop, but liking that he’s walking after me like a wide eyed puppy-dog.

“Anyone can. All you have to do is put a group of words together in a tune,” he said sweetly.

I hopped on up on the stage where the guy in the red suit would be seated tomorrow. I turned to look at him. As I spoke to him, I couldn’t keep the hurt from my voice. Because the last time I sang a Christmas song it was with my dad, hours before he died.  “I know that, I can sing, but I choose not to sing.”

“Look, I’ll do it for you maybe it will make you smile,” Buddy said. He takes a deep breath, “I”M SINGING. I’M IN A STORE AND I AM…”

It was horrible, but I couldn’t help but smile. 

“THERE’S NO SINGING IN THE NORTH POLE!” Brutus comes running out from behind the registrar.

“Yes there is,” Buddy says grinning at me. “I’m Peeta.”

“Wait I thought your name was Buddy?”

“That’s my middle name,” Peeta said. “Is Jovie your name?”

“No,” my voice sounds breathy. “Jovie is my elf name.”

“So what’s your real name?” His voice sounded deeper and I swear I could see nothing else but his big blue eyes tenderly gazing at me.

“Katniss,” I said, wondering why my knees were so wobbly. I couldn’t fall for a guy who thought he was an elf. A very good looking, broad shouldered guy with the face of an angel, but nonetheless, a complete wakadoo.    

The ten minute warning came on letting people know they needed to go home.

“Oh I’ve got to get ready for Santa,” Peeta muttered under his breath. But before he could move Brutus appears. 

“Buddy,” Brutus grabbed him by the arm and hauled him away. I was left standing on that stage with a big old goofy grin on my face.

[theepolynesian]

Not So Bad

Summary: The company gets caught and you meet the Prince of the Woodland Realm.

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Warnings: Mention of parent death

Word Count: 1,704

Request #1 by Anon: Okay yay! Thank you! Can you do a Legolas x reader fic where the reader is a part of the company in the Hobbit and somehow the reader gets left in Mirkwood and Legolas sneaks her out when he leaves with Tauriel? Thank you!

 Request #2 by Anon: Hmm... how about your a human traveling with the company, but when you get to mirkwood, you get pulled from the cells to go talk to thranduil after thorin gets back... and then bilbo arrives and they have to leave you in mirkwood?

Request # 3 by @bee-wrecker : Maybe human reader x legolas where he sees a human, still learning archery but already has a passion for the sport?

Master Lists: Drabbles/Imagines, and Completed Series

A/N: I decided to tackle three requests at once. Now I’m down to 37. Sorry if y’all don’t like it anons but I tried! ALSO THOSE WHO WANT TO BE TAGGED ON MY TAG LIST, INCLUDING THOSE THAT WERE TAGGED ON MY FIRST TAG LIST, PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT TAG LIST YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED ON. THOSE ON MY OLD TAG LIST WILL NOT BE TAGGED UNLESS THEY TELL ME WHAT THEY WANT TO BE SORTED ON.

Also new tag list starts today.

You quickly grab an arrow from your quiver, notching it, and sending it flying into the large spider. How the hell did spiders get here? Especially these large bastards.

You continue shooting the spiders, collecting the arrows as you go.

“Y/n! Let’s move!” you hear Thorin call.

You pull out your last arrow before moving behind Thorin and running to get away from them. Thorin immediately stops and you almost collide into him. Thorin is looking up and you follow his gaze to find an elf sliding down a spider’s silk.

The blonde elf kills two spiders and you quickly pull your bow and arrow again, stepping in front of Thorin so that the elve stands a centimeter away from your tip. His eyes widen in surprise before he glares at you and pulls his string tighter.

“A human travelling with dwarves. What an interesting sight,” he says and you narrow your eyes at him before it catches movement in the back of him.

You quickly pull another arrow, notching it so that it was at an angle before moving an inch to the left and letting it fly to the two spiders about to attack the blonde elf.

He immediately puts his arrow down and looks at the two spiders in shock. You smirk at the fact that an elf did not hear a spider coming.

“Quick on your feet as well,” he mutters, before looking at you carefully as if perplexed.

“Search them.”

You try not to growl as your favorite bow gets taken away. You had gotten it from your father as a birthday gift and you treasured it. It was the last thing you had ever gotten for him as he had passed away a few weeks later while on a hunting trip. Since then, you started training yourself and while you were not on elf level, you considered yourself skillful. So had other villagers according to Thorin who had personally asked you to join on his quest. If a dwarf asked you to reclaim something sacred to him, you must’ve been very important.

“I would kindly ask that you do not damage them,” you say and you don’t realize that the blonde elf had stopped to look at you, “I received that as a gift from my father and it is very important to me.”

The elf searching you just ignores you and soon you are all herded like cattle to what you assume is going to be Mirkwood.

You silently walk next to the blonde elf. You didn't really like, but who are you to judge? You haven't even spoken to him yet.

“Very rarely do humans practice archery,” the blonde says and that surprises you. Was he really talking to you?

“You need to get out more than. A lot of humans practice archery. Archery is not subject to one race,” you reply, looking up at him.

You chose the wrong moment to look up as you trip on a tree root. You hear a snort as you catch yourself. You look up to the elf and he had a smile on his face causing you to smile as well.

“Y/n,” you say.

He looks down at you, smiling a bit as well.

“Legolas. Prince of the Woodland Realm,” he introduces and you quite liked his name but you scoff.

“Don’t seem so princley to me. I mean that blonde dwarf. Now he just oozes prince,” you joke and it seems he doesn’t get it because he looks offended.

“You’re comparing me to a dwarf?” Legolas asks, absolutely disgusted at the thought.

You shrug, turning forward. You make eye contact with Thorin and he narrows his eyes at you, a sign that you should shut up. You stick your tongue out at him, but nevertheless you decide to keep your mouth shut even when you are none to gently shoved into a cell.

Thorin is taken separately to talk to the king. You had a feeling that you were going to be up next. I mean, why wouldn’t you? You were a human travelling with 13 dwarves and a ho- wait a minute! Where was the hobbit?

You run to the bars, to see if you could spot the hobbit. You can't and you decide to call his name in case that gave him up.

Taking a seat on the bench, wondering how Bilbo was going to help you escape.

The little light you had disappears from the stone ceiling and you look at the doorway to find the prince.

You smile, sitting up.

“Couldn't resist my charming self?”

He shrugs before looking around and taking a seat in front of the stone steps in front of your cell.

“You are interesting I'll give you that,” he says and you smile.

“I'll take it,” you say, laying on your stomach and resting your head in your hands.

“What got you interested in archery?”

You smile at the memory of your father.

“My father did. He was very adamant on me learning to defend myself and archery was the way to go for me. It covers longer distances than swords do but it is very inaccurate depending on the skill of the archer. I myself am still learning but I am happy with my skill level.”

“You are very skilled indeed. I have yet to fire two arrows at once and hit the target. You shouldn't doubt yourself,” Legolas says looking at you kindly. You were starting to like this elf.

“My father used to say that,” you voice.

“You speak as if he does not walk this earth,” he replies and the smile slowly disappears from your face.

“He does not. He had died on a hunting trip a few years back. Attacked by orcs according to a few friends that were with him. They bought his body back to us and I don't think I've been the same since. I trained and trained and trained and I will continue to train until I know that I will make my father proud,” you tell him softly.

“I think you're doing just that,” he says and you look at him with a small smile on your face.

“If you'll excuse me,” he says, smiling at you before standing and leaving.

A few minutes later, you hear: “‘I think you're doing just that” followed by gagging noises. You roll your eyes at the nosy princes and decide to take a nap.

You don't think an hour has passed before you are woken up by doors being pulled open.

Another guard had opened the doors and was now waiting as if he wanted you to follow him.

“The King wants a word.”

You nod and stand, following the elf and taking Thorin’s passing word of “don't tell him anything” very seriously.

When you get to the King, he’s  pacing. Thorin must have really pissed him off if an elven king was pacing. This would probably not go well.

“Human. I offer you a proposition,” the King suddenly snaps, causing you to raise a brow.

“I offer you freedom of and only if you promise to return what is mine,” he says.

“And what is that exactly?”

“White germs of pure starlight. If you return them to me I-,”

“My lord!” An elf exclaims, running into the throne room.” The dwarves. They have escaped!”

You smile at the thought but you can't help but think about how you were supposed get out.

“Return them to me! Do not let them enter that mountain and return her to her cell!”

With that, your very short conversation with the elf king ends.

When you get back to your cell, you take a seat on the ground thinking about the rest of your life. You were most definitely going to spend it in here and you had no problem with it. You had no one left and no one would care what happened to you and you were okay with that.

You close your eyes and finish your nap.

You wake up to a hand on your arm and you lash out, punching the unknown thing in the nose.

Legolas reels back clutching his now bleeding nose.

“Oh goodness. I’m sorry,” you say and he shakes his head, using his sleeve to wipe the blood.

“Do not be. I should not have frightened you like that. You must hurry. We need to get going,” he says and that’s all you need to get up.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask quietly as you weave your way through the halls. You had a feeling that he was not allowed to be doing this and you did not want to get caught.

“I did not think that you would want to spend the rest of your life in the cells so I have come to collect you,” he says,  leading you outside by a river.

You smile at him, but then you frown.

“My-,” before you can finish your sentence, he reaches behind his back and brings out your bow and arrow. You smile at him and take it, grateful for the blonde elf and his quick thinking.

“You know, I didn’t like you in the beginning, but now you’re not so bad,” you say and he laughs.

“Couldn’t resist my charming self?”

You smile and roll your eyes.

“I suppose not. Still though, you’re still not oozing princely,” you reply.

“I’m still better than that dwarf in many ways,” he retorts and you raise a brow at him.

“I highly doubt that.”

“Would you like to find out? Many elfmaids seem to agree with me.”

You roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“The only reason they say that is because they’re forced to. Your father probably pays them.”

That earns you a shove and you laugh. You look to Legolas and he seems that he wasn’t that offended because he was smiling.

“Maybe, when this is all over, I’ll find out for myself,” you say and he looks down at you with a smile on his face.

“I would like that,” he says softly and give him a wide smile and you can’t help but think that elves were not so bad.

Those Bolded: I cannot, for some reason, tag you. Sorry.

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