<3

I'm so glad you enjoyed! It makes me really happy to know that someone liked my stuff enough to read it again <3

ah. that hurts.

would love some more

Awww, I'm really happy you liked it!

Go for it! Inspiration is very much free, and I can't wait to see what you do with it!

I love it! All the metaphors are quite fun. Do you plan to write a part 2?

I'm glad you enjoyed! I imagine they both would have a lot of fun indeed! For all the fact that Annie/Andolin has been around for many human lifespans, she hasn't gotten much chance to explore, and is very excited to run around in a human body.

Thank you!

And I don't think I've read those books. I'll have to add it to the list!

I'm glad you liked the story!

Tensions were always rising, nothing new. The sun rose and set, the leaders preached, some found new ways to battle, others searched for meaning in their existence. For the inhabitants of Rahjeera, this was life. What was new were the innovations of a Flamosian engineer, powerful projectile launchers striking out over great distances. Her work was interrupted as a Fa'thef drake entered her workshop.

"So, what you got cookin' today babe?"

"Nothing for you." She replied, annoyed. She grabbed the cartridge from the bench and checked the capacity, adding a long round before sliding the unit into a boxy frame. "I think I made it clear you weren't supposed to come back here."

"Oh please, all you need is one night with me to change your tune." He recoiled as she spun a barrel onto the box and quickly held it to his chin. His eyes narrowed, glaring at the fiery dragoness. "I don't get what you see in him. I'm twice the drake he could ever be."

"Get. Out." She growled tensely, flame dripping from her maw. She held a bead on Jobias as he retreated, letting a shuddering sigh of relief go once he was gone. She leaned against her bench as she stared at her latest weapon, her magnum opus. She clicked the safety into position before setting it down, grabbing her gear for the team game tonight.

Great towers of stone dotted the landscape, and Sixxus stood atop the tallest. The black Ouroboros drake had a good feeling about tonight, his partner Kayara was talking a big game about her latest creation. He took mental notes of the field, figuring where best to place himself and Kayara. Satisfied with his preparation, he took flight, lazily drifting towards the town, and Kayaras workshop. He was surprised when the scenery changed completely, far from land. The ocean was vast below him, and with nothing to gain his bearings, he was totally lost.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Slow the feeling of panic, keep calm. He closed his eyes to center himself, and when he opened them, he crashed into a cave wall. His head was spinning as he stood, unable to rise past all fours. He took in his new environment, wondering what kind of trick was being played on him. "Where the hell am I?"

It wasn't two steps until he was outside Kayaras workshop, and he caught sight of Jobias walking away. He had no time to think as a torrent of information flooded his eyes, text and flashes of color scrawling across his vision faster than he could comprehend. He felt his mind crack open with a searing agony before he collapsed.

Kayara did a final check of her things and left the shop, almost tripping over her partner in the process. The drake groaned as he came to, clawed hands shielding his eyes from the light.

"Syl!? What happened to you?" Kayara asked, kneeling down and checking him over. "Were you attacked?"

"Sshhh, too loud." He complained, slowly rolling over and stretching, making sure he was functional before attempting to stand. "Kay, where am I?"

"What? You're... in front of my shop?" She replied, questioningly. "Where did you think you were?"

"I've had a rough twenty minutes, I'm not sure if it even happened." He replied as he stood, rubbing his head. He notes with displeasure a sore spot from the cave wall. "I've been, like, teleporting all over. I was at the field, but when I left I was over an ocean, then I was down in a cave, and I showed up here."

"Looks like you were napping."

"Yeah, I saw a lot of color and text right after I saw Jobias fleeing down the way, and then I passed out."

"So... are you good?"

"I think so?" Sixxus replied uncertainly, giving himself a last once-over. "Yeah, I'm good."

Kayara shrugged and patted his back, coiling her tail around his as they walked towards the field arena.

Part 2 coming later!

Follow the adventure at r/PrimusWrites

Thank you for the prompt!

Ooooh I get it now

Awwww that’s Adorable and Romantic! Thanks for sharing this with me! 🥰

Wow! That's incredible. You describe the pain so perfectly.

“I understand why this won’t sound sincere,” she said as she slowly sat upon the throne set upon the dais of the giant, expensively furnished throne room, “but my intention wasn’t this.” She gestured toward her rounded stomach.

His jaw clenched as he stared angrily at her. “You expect me to believe that you, the Demon Queen, didn’t plan out a long game to entrap me so that I couldn’t defeat you without killing my own child? You’re a tyrant. Of course you force this upon me thinking I would spare you for the sake of my progney."

She sighed heavily as she struggled to find a comfortable position. “Nicholas, you know me better than anyone. Do you really think…”

“Do I?” He glared at her as he held his sword defensively, trying to keep an eye on the guards stationed around the hall. “I don’t know you at all. This was all a ruse!”

“It was,” she admitted with a groan, running her hands under her stomach to give some relief to the pressure there. “I fully intended to trick you into doing something that would prevent you from making it this far into my kingdom. It could’ve been you settling down with someone, not me, or it could’ve been your death. I really didn’t care. My main concern was keeping you from following your orders because, if you killed me or took over my rule, you’d surely give it to your king, and he is the true evil.”

“Don’t be absurd. King Henry is a just ruler who doesn’t terrorize his people or rule them through fear.” He took a step closer and wasn’t surprised to see the guards move a bit closer to him.

“Is that so? Have you really stopped to consider this fact? Who, exactly, is telling you that I rule through fear? You’ve been traveling through my lands for months now. How often have you encountered someone fearful of me?” She rolled her shoulders and winced as one popped loudly.

He scoffed. “Just two weeks’ back, we encountered that man who had been mutilated by you. It’s a wonder he didn’t recognize you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he was thrown off by how very pregnant I am.” She waved her hand to dismiss the thought. “Do you remember why he was treated thus?”

“He said it was because he refused to relent and give up his property to you.” Nicholas shook his head. “You’re a thief on top of everything else; he said you took his property even after mutilating him.”

“Let me show you his property.” She nodded toward a young woman who was clearly working as a low-level servant in the hall. “This is Sarah.” She leveled the hero with a solid, determined look. “Sarah was that man’s so-called property. Shall I tell you what he was doing to his ‘property?”

The young woman blanched. “Please, Majesty, I can’t bear to even think about what that demon did to me. You’ve given me a safe place and good job; I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but…”

“It’s alright, Sarah. You may go.” The Queen turned to the hero. “I’m called a Demon Queen by those who would use, abuse, or otherwise hurt my people. Those who choose to do so and think they will get away with it never do. That’s part of my powers. I’m able to know when my people are being severely abused and by whom. I bring swift justice to those who deserve it. Sometimes, I allow them to stay in my kingdom as a warning to others who might think of doing harm to my people. Often, I banish them from my borders. You only hear from those banished because they are the loudest, and, because your king wants my lands, he quickly erases any indication that I am doing as a good ruler ought; I am actually protecting my people from the truly evil.”

“The King wants us to kill you so your magic will no longer protect your borders?” Nicholas slowly lowered his sword. “I want to believe what you’re saying, but that would mean my king is…”

“The evil one? Perhaps. If anything, he’s ambitious.” She shifted again, and the throne creaked beneath her. “Nicholas, I’ve never lied to you. I am who I’ve presented myself as for the length of time you’ve known me, and I love you very much, but I won’t force you to stay here. I also won’t keep you from your child. If you want to leave, you may, and you may come visit so long as you do so with peaceful intent, but I will not allow Henry to take over my lands and hurt my people.”

Nicholas looked around as he thought over his journey through the Queen’s lands. It was true the people prospered, and it was equally true that very few actually feared her so much as respected her. He’d seen her be compassionate, brave, funny, and cunning. She was amazing, and he truly adored her. He’d also seen his King in action, and rarely was he ever compassionate or this adamant about the protection of his people. Perhaps, it was time to realign.

“I don’t want to do that.” He dropped his sword and heard the guards take a cautious step backwards. “I don’t want to leave you or our child.” Moving to stop in front of her, he dropped to his knee and bowed to her before reaching out to grab one of her calves, which he began to rub. “I love you as well, Regina. I choose to stay, and, together, we will protect this land and our child.”

The Queen moaned in appreciation and nodded to her guards to stand down. “Good. Now, help me up so we can bathe and rest. I’m tired of smelling like three days’ worth of dirt and horses.”

Chuckling, he did so and then happily followed.

[removed]

I always answer questions as honestly and truthfully as I can. I've found it gets me into fun and interesting situations. Like the time that man sat next to me on a park bench and asked me "Do you know what the weather is like in Tahiti?"

"I don't, but I assume it's better than here," I answered, before being handed a bag.

"Take that to the Swedish embassy and pass it to the Ambassador's aide. All additional information is inside," the man said before standing up and walking away. I tried to stop him to ask why he didn't just do it himself, but he was moving so quickly. Besides, the Swedish embassy wasn't very far. I could pass this package along to his friend for him. I wasn't that busy that day.

Inside the bag was a portable hard drive and a photo with a name written on the back. I memorized the name (or at least how I imagined it was pronounced) and asked for him once I reached the embassy. I passed off the bag and began to make my way back to the park.

It was then that I was approached by two men in suits who offered me a ride. I couldn't say no to a ride, so I got into their black van, expecting to be dropped off at the park. Instead, they insisted on showing me an underground facility they had constructed to interrogate criminals. Then for the next few hours we just had a chat about my day over some coffee. When we were done, they dropped me off at my house. (It was too late for the park.)

A few days later, while I was taking a shortcut through an alley in Koreatown, a gentleman approached me offering a lot of money for information on the underground facility I was taken to. I told him to put his money away and told him everything I knew about the facility. He was so grateful, he offered me an all-expenses-paid vacation to Pyongyang, the Capital of North Korea. I was initially worried because I thought that North Korea was the bad one, but this man assured me it was not, so I graciously accepted.

A few days later, I was approached by two gentleman who said they worked for MI:5. I was very impressed because I love the Mission Impossible movies and number 5 is one of the best ones. They asked me if I would be able to bring them with me to Pyongyang. If I did, they would be able to reward me with another vacation, this time to merry old England. How could I resist?

I asked the kind Korean man to allow me to take my new friends with me. He was initially skeptical until I assured them they were just film makers, not spies.

Pyongyang was fun, but too short. I feel like I didn't get to experience the "real" North Korea, you know? Also, the two guys from MI:5 were constantly sneaking off during the whole trip, never telling me what they were doing. Hollywood types, right?

Our next stop was London, but first, a stop-over in Moscow where I met two very nice guys who were also on their way to London. They said they couldn't tell me who they worked for so I assumed they were also Hollywood types working on some big budget sequel, so I introduced them to the people I was traveling with. I told them that they worked for MI:5. My new Russian friends were so excited that they immediately took my MI:5 friends into a private room, likely to discuss insider filmmaker stuff. It looked like I'd be flying to London alone.

London was nice. The day before I was going to visit the set of MI:5, I was walking in the Iranian district and found myself in a back-room hookah lounge playing dominoes with a group of friendly guys who made hummus for a living. They were extremely interested that I'd be visiting MI:5 the next day. They were so interested that they asked me to wear a hidden camera so they could experience the event for themselves. I was happy to oblige. After all, I think we should all get to experience the magic of visiting a film set.

Skip forward another few weeks, I'm staying as the guest of the Emir somewhere in the middle east. This place, let me tell you, was palatial. I have never experienced luxury of this kind. I posted a bunch of pictures of social media and was getting hit up left and right by strangers who wanted more information on the place I was staying and the man who owned it. The one that caught my eye the most was a guy who said he worked for Mos Sad, the rapper from Black Star. He said he was willing to pay me a lot of money if I could send him a bunch of high resolution photos of the residence and grounds, complete with GPS tags. I told him to put his money away. Just like the movie sets, I think everyone should be able to experience this kind of luxury, even if it's virtually.

When I got back home, the guys who had the underground facility invited me back for another coffee chat. I told them all about my time in Pyongyang, Moscow, London and the UAE. I told them about Mission Impossible 5 and Mos Sad. The story seemed to make them really angry. I guess they were jealous of the jet-setting lifestyle I was living.

They dropped me off at home and told me to keep this secret recorder on me at all times in case any other fun things happen to me. I obliged, considering how jealous these guys seemed to be of me. The recording device was nice, but not as nice as the other recording devices I've been given over the years. I find it clunky to carry seven little microphones with you wherever you go, but what can I say? People just love to listen in on my little adventures.

[removed]

It's the awkwardness of having told a server to enjoy their meal

The hospital room went dark as I closed my eyes, my breath stilling. I expect nothingness, to find nothing waiting for me on the other side, to see only blackness. But there was more, so much more: there was colour.

"There he is," a musical voice calls, her face swimming into view.

I don't know her, but I keep thinking that maybe I do. She's tall, much taller than any human I've ever seen, covered in a black robe with black feathers around the edge of the hood. Her eyes are a bright yellow, glowing slightly in her pale face. She has a smattering of freckles across her nose, a tendril of her red hair hanging out under the hood.

I look around as my vision expands, taking on a more surreal vision. I'm lying on my back in the grass, looking up at a sky that can't decide what colour it wants to be. I can see streaks of pink, purple, blue, even green, like the sun is setting and rising at the same time.

I pull myself up, leaning back on my hands as I deal with the faint dizziness. The woman holds her long, thin hand out to me, and I stare at it, puzzled.

"Come on," she says encouragingly. "We have a bit of a walk."

I stare at her hand for a few more seconds, then accept her offer to help me up. Standing, the top of my head comes up to the woman's breasts, her robe tipping open in her movement to reveal the white dress underneath.

"Where am I?" I ask, staring around at the trees. Some of them are tall and straight, others are so gnarled and twisted I'm surprised they're not sending leaves out into the ground.

"To be honest, I'm not sure," the woman says, turning a little and gesturing me to follow her. I fall into step beside her, and she walks slowly so I can keep up. "Humans are usually pretty stable when it comes to predicting their Death Realm. The hell or heaven of their culture, nothingness, returning to the world... but you seem to have built your Death Realm out of forgotten dreams."

I walk beside her, glancing around. Now and then, I hear something familiar - squealing tyres, yelling adults, the happy screams of a child - but I can't see where these sounds come from.

"So... where are we going?" I ask, stepping a little closer. Her black robe, though it reminds me of the Grim Reaper, exudes a feeling of comfort.

"We're going for a walk," she says with a smile, looking down to me. "We're going to discover what will make your eternity tolerable, even happy."

I look down and away. A heavy feeling on my heart makes my mouth dry. I can't feel happy, I don't deserve it.

"Now, now," the woman said with a smile, placing her large hand on my shoulder, "take it from someone who's been doing this for almost three thousand years - no one deserves the flames of hell, even if they think they do. Everyone has a single redeeming streak, and that's what we focus on here."

I frown, looking back to her. "Even Hitler?"

She smiles. "Hitler was kind to his dogs. He got the Death Realm he deserved, though some might not agree." She stops to look at me, her other hand on my shoulder. "What is it about you that redeems all your flaws?" she asks, dragging two fingers down my face so I have to close my eyes.

"I don't know," I say after a while, turning away from her. I rub my arms with my hands, feeling the yawning maw of depression fighting to surface.

"Yes, you do, you just won't admit it to yourself. Won't admit you were a good person." The woman swoops around behind me and places a hand on my shoulder, the other over my forehead. "Focus."

I try to throw her off, but something is holding my body still. I sigh and close my eyes, frowning into her hand. Nothing but regrets pass my eyes.

The woman says something I can't quite hear, and the dark thoughts brighten, twisting. The baby rabbit I saved in high school, taking the blame for some stupid prank my friends played in primary school. The handful of change I gave that homeless guy once.

Little things, little acts of kindness that build up inside me, becoming a big thing. I could feel it, just as I can feel the tears dripping down my cheeks.

"There you go," she says, gently letting me go. "There's your Death Realm."

I open my eyes to find a door in front of me. It's plain brown, a cheap knocker and a frosted window. The door that graced my parents' house when I was growing up.

"Off you go," she whispers, giving me a gentle push.

"What's behind the door?" I ask, and hate the trembling in my voice.

"Forgiveness," she said, a rustling of feathers behind me catching my attention. Your Death Realm... is forgiveness.

I turn back, but the woman is gone. It's just me on the grass. Behind the door, I can hear laughing and talking. Can I do it? Can I open that door?

The choice is taken away from me as someone inside opens the door, a dog barrelling out into the grass. He grabs my pants and pulls me towards the door, where I can see my family sitting around a table.

I turn back again, unsure, and see a large black raven, it's eyes electric yellow, watching me from a tree nearby. I gulp, take a breath, and allow the dog to drag me inside.

Good luck, Keridwen says, her voice carrying on the wind as she opens her wings and sails across the grass, headed for the sunrise.

@wandering_cirrus do you mind if I borrow your river spirit idea? Not copy but the same concept? Something popped into my head I thought it could be interesting to explore with it having a lover.

The cashiering profession is a delicate and precise art lost on the white-collar and best not left to the faint-at-heart. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not simply a matter of running items past a scanner and chucking them in a sack. It takes a quick mind for improvisation to entertain chatty customers, and an incredible mastery of one’s own temper to de-escalate the conflicts that inevitably arise against the most disgruntled of them. It takes a good head for logic, layouts, and categorization to swiftly collect and reshelve items picked up capriciously in aisles, only to be discarded into the shelves beside the checkstand at the last minute by patrons as they anxiously watch their bills rack up on the screen. You must be mindful of the proper handling of perishable food, chemicals, and broken glass–you wouldn’t believe how much stuff people drop and break while they shop. You must appear to move with a sense of urgency that makes your employer deem you worthy of keeping onboard, while never letting your actual productivity level exceed average, lest they get it in their head to bury you under a mountain of extra work. In retrospect, it's just as demanding as vocational villainy, only without the fun. 

But I was sure Lady Lightning would be fine. 

Not that I had any proof that my new colleague and the electric enigma were one and the same. Could I even count on my own eyesight, when the heroine had been masked from the bridge of her nose upward during our encounter? The resemblance, though, was striking. 

After we made brief introductions, I asked her, “Have you ever done this before?” 

“Once, when I was a teenager,” she said. “That was before we had all these newfangled screens and gadgets, though.” 

“Tell me about it. The world’s gotten too big, too fast,” I agreed. “For now, how about I have you just watch me work the register, and you can do the bagging, until you feel comfortable taking the front? Then, we can switch.” 

“I think that would be best.” 

I’m not saying it’s rocket science, and I’m not saying it’s any reflection on your quality as a person if you either can’t, or refuse, to be good at bagging other people’s groceries. I get it: who gives a shit? But watching Tessa over my shoulder as she meticulously handled our line’s purchases, gently packing cold items with other cold items, fruits with fruits, meats with meats, large, heavy things double-bagged on their own, and anything fragile wrapped in paper between soft, swift fingers, I became all the more endeared to her. This was a woman who took great care in everything she touched, from a stranger’s avocados to a life in danger. Suddenly, it incensed me all the more to think of her wrung dry by some soulless government agency, milked for all they could squeeze, and then, in her hour of need, finding a door slammed in her face. 

“What do you do for fun?” I asked during a lull between rushes. 

“Fun?” She laughed nervously. “Moving forward, I barely think I’ll have time for sleep, between this and my other job.”

“Oh? What else do you do?” 

She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her purple apron. “A bit of this and that…contract work, mostly. It can get pretty physically demanding, and it’s not as rewarding as people assume it is…but we all must keep the lights on, eh?” 

Ringing up on a touchscreen tablet presented a greater challenge to Tessa than bagging, but with me right behind her to guide her to the right buttons, she got the hang of it before the end of the shift. As we made our way to the back of the store together to punch out, I asked her what her plans were for the rest of the evening. 

“I was going to try to pick up at my other job,” she said. 

“That’s too bad. I was going to try and catch the new Galaxy Wars movie. The only problem is, I don’t have nobody to go with,” I ventured, feeling bold. 

She blinked, this stunned, sudden blink that gave way to a doe-eyed expression of surprise. “You can’t be suggesting–but I’m so much older than you are!”

“Who said I was suggesting anything?” 

I was totally suggesting something. All I wanted to do was wrap her up in my jacket, protect her from the world, and love her forever. 

We took down each others’ numbers on the hood of my car before we left, just in case she ended up free for the evening after all. 

When I got home, I had three unread texts, but none of them were from Tessa. 

I needed to download the HYST app to network with my fellow villains. 

The weapon and flight device I had requisitioned had been acquired. 

And as far as the suit was concerned, did I have any preferences when it came to color scheme? 

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TYSM! This is a wonderful prompt, thank you for the inspiration! I do have a little more, the next excerpt elaborating a little more on life at the store, but I hope to keep the momentum up and get to the point of a battle scene!

"Mom, dad, you can't just let an alien live in our house." I complained. "What if he tries to eat us?"

"We don't need to be afraid of the aliens. They are quite friendly. I've met many of them myself. Sometimes they need help adjusting to a new culture, but once you get to know them you'll enjoy it" dad said.

"We'll see about that" I replied.

Out new alien walked into the house with my older brother.

"Everyone welcome our new alien friend." He said.

Mom and dad tried talking to him, but the alien didn't answer. I figured he hadn't learned English yet. The alien went straight for the pencils and started snacking on them. "Those aren't edible!" I yelled while grabbing the pencils. "I thought aliens were smart, but this one thinks pencils are food!"

Over the next few days the alien would occasionally learn new words. Sometimes he made sense and sometimes he didn't. He would often get into trouble. It was like having a toddler around.

After a few weeks he was speaking English with perfect grammar. I often found my homework completed with everything correct. We also talked about our favorite shows and movies. We talked about sports and video games.

Mom and Dad were right. Aliens are wonderful creatures once you get to know them.