#Bare Metal Cloud Market

[aishavass]

The applications in DevOps applications and big data is expected to propel the implementation of bare metal cloud service. The North American region is...

[hawkinshorror94]

The Wager of Pleasure

Lucania DellamortexPlus!sized RookxSpite

“Smells like Peaches and metal. You are coward Lucanis” Spite hisses as he moves around Rook who is none the wiser to his presence so close to her. Spite’s purple eyes shot over to Lucanis who had his hands clenched in his lap. “I will take her if you are too afraid” 

“Meirda, can you not Spite” Lucanis grumbles at the demon as he tries to focus on Rook putting away her market haul. Since falling head over heels with their appointed leader Lucanis found it hard to ignore her. Her smile that was only meant for him, her small gestures of adoration, but Spite noticed the more physical things. How nice her ass looked in those tight little leather shorts she wore, or how the jewels of her tunic fell perfectly in the valley between her large breasts. On more than one occasion Spite had expressed wanting to feel what her plush belly felt like pinched between his rough fingers or her soft hips might feel with his fingers dug into them. 

“What is he saying?” She asked as she turned to Lucanis, a bottle of tequila in her hands, the last thing on her list. Lucanis shifted on the edge of his cot unsure of what to say, he didn’t think she’d want to hear that Spite wanted her to slam her against the wall and take her when Lucanis hadn’t even had the courage to kiss her. 

“You don’t want to know.” He murmurs pinching the bridge of his nose, she laughs handing him the bottle.

“That bad?” She asks as she watches him pull out the cork on the bottle with a well sharpened knife. Lucanis shakes his head and doesn’t answer, handing the bottle back to her. The tequila inside smells sharp and the first drink burns all the way down to her bare toes. 

“You want her. You won't take her.” Spite mumbles pouting with his arms crossed over his chest. Spite was almost tired of the way they looked longingly into one another’s eyes, almost. Except when they were focusing on one another Spite could touch her softly, like that of a butterfly, her cheek, her back. Just enough to send goosebumps down her arms, conditioning her to feel good feelings when she was around Lucanis. “Drink more, get drunk.” He whispers softly into Lucanis’s ear, all he needed was for him to slip up to let him out. 

“She feels so soft” Spite murmured as he watched Lucanis pin her to the cot, the empty bottle rolling away from open hand. Lucanis focused on how her skin felt, how warm and soft it was against his calloused hands. She smelled like Peaches, Coconuts and metal, like Spite had said. His lips were pressing to her warm skin, he wanted to taste her, the tequila clouding his judgement. Allowing him to feel what he wanted to feel, no thoughts just her and Spite of course.

“I want. My turn.” Spite snapped at Lucanis as he watched the man lick the soft skin of her belly. Lucanis grumbled at the demon who was kneeled by the cot watching, Lucanis could see the demon palming himself over his pants and it sent a tingle down to his own stiff cock. Lucanis tried to ignore Spite and focus on the absolute goddess before him; if he died today, he hoped he could worship her for the rest of eternity. His face buried between her plush thighs, tasting the sweet ichor that flowed there. He undid her fancy Lords bra, it clanked as it hit the stone floor of the pantry and he was back to looking at the two delicious tits he had uncovered. They felt so soft and warm in his calloused hands as he squeezed, watching as the puckered flesh of her nipples tensed. 

“Perfect. Taste them fool.” Spite murmured as he watched Lucanis squeeze the puckered nipples in between deft fingers. Spite watched her face, her lip caught between her bottom teeth and how her pupils were blown wide. Following Spite’s instructions he dips his head down to a nipple, taking it between his teeth and nipping at it gently, listening to the sweetest fucking whine leave her lips. He moved to the next nipple giving it the same treatment as the first, but he felt cool air blowing on his cheek. Spite was blowing lightly against the nipple not in Lucanis’s mouth, watching the nipple retighten and Rook whine louder this time.  Brown eyes met purple ones for a moment and an unspoken agreement was made. 

Lucanis moves back up to Rook’s neck, his hands pinning her wrists above her head, his brown eyes meeting hers for a moment before he pressed his lips back to hers. Their kiss is sloppy from the tequila and the pure desire coursing through them both. She moaned into his mouth as he let go of her wrists, but they stayed pinned above her head with cool invisible fingers. 

“Spite.” She murmured against Lucanis’s lips when he finally left her mouth for air. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of the man and the demon working alongside to pleasure her. Lucanis’s knee slots between her legs grinding into her little leather shorts, his lips ghosting the column of her throat feeling her pulse and low whines.

“She likes that. Her cunt smells delicious” Spite groans as he holds her wrists watching Lucanis take his sweet time down her body. Even her wrists were soft and Spite couldn’t help but press a cool kiss to the inside of them. When Spite looked up again Lucanis was working her out of those little shorts that cupped her fat ass so deliciously. Spite burned on the inside like fire, he let go of her wrist so he could move closer to her soaking cunt. Lucanis’s fingers were carding through the curl’s of her slickened cunt. 

“Stop teasing” Spite murmurs his large hand splayed out over her warm belly, it tenses under his cool fingers or it was because Lucanis had finally slipped his fingers into her soaked folds, collecting all the sweet juices there and bringing them to his mouth. She tasted like cream and he moaned around his own slickened fingers. 

“You taste divine.” He murmurs as he dips into her cunt with two long, lithe fingers, fingers hooking to hit that spongy little spot inside of her. She cries out his name and he leans down using his nose to rub against that little sensitive bud of nerves. Her fingers were dug into his dark hair pulling on it as she pulled him closer to her heat. When he hears her moans pitch up and octave, Lucanis sucks at her clit, his fingers moving with a quickened pace. Spite presses lightly on her lower belly and he can feel Lucanis’s fingers in her and it makes his cock throb with need. 

The sound of Lucanis’s name sounds like prayers as he drags an orgasm from her, his fingers and tongue working to quickly overstimulate her. She was begging, pleading for him to fuck her but all he could think about was how her soft thighs quivered around his head, how the lewd sounds of her soaked cunt were, how good she tasted on his tongue. 

“Please Lucanis, inside.” Her words were broken as she clawed him away from her cunt. He finally obliged, Spite finally slinking away into Lucanis so he can feel the relief he needs as well. Lucanis feels as though he might choke as he slips into her velvety walls. 

“So fucking good.” Spite sighs inside his head as he bottoms out in her, Lucanis focuses on her face. As he lifts one of her thighs and pulls it higher on her belly, pulling almost all the way out before slipping back in, a tortuous speed that has them teetering on the edge of ecstasy or insanity. 

“You’re so pretty like this.” He murmurs into her ear as his hips pick up pace and her fingers dig into her back. “Under me spread out like this.” Lucanis moans into her ear as he feels her clench around him. “Let go” He murmurs it once, twice before he hears her cry out, her legs tightening around him pulling him in deeper as he works her through it. 

He has his face nuzzled into her neck, losing himself as his hips begin to stutter in her, his cock spilling off into her already soaked cunt.  He closes his eyes for just a minute to calm his beating heart. He just drifts for a moment, a moment too long. As Rook’s eyes look up to meet what she thought would be the large brown eyes of Lucanis she is instead met by Spite’s purple ones.

“My Turn”

If you into freaky stuff come back for the second part. Because you know Spite is a fucking freak. Also if someone can think of a better name do tell because I could not think of one

[inspector-m3]

Immortal souls ch1

CW: uhh...this shits kinda sad ngl, death, details of injuries and said death, swearing, dont think there's anything too bad but let me know if there is

The day was bright as you lay in the field, the grass swaying softly against your face, exhausted from the day spent running around, completing errands for the villagers and then proceeding to goof off with simon. Simon, who was currently beside you in the cool blades of grass, your pinkie fingers hooked together, too embarrassed to properly hold hands. You both speak soft promises into the sky above, the blues and pinks of the lowering yet still bright sun being covered by the patchy pattern of leaves from the tree that you and Simon had taken shelter under, being the witness to your words.

The two of you began your daily walk back, all laughs and jokes, smiles and subtle flirts.

"hah! you should have seen the fruit stall owner! the way he was chasing after me just for a simple apple."

Simon recounts his adventures of the day before you had met up for the afternoon. You sigh playfully at your thief of a friend.

"honestly, si....what am i going to do with you, hm?"

Simon smirks, loving the sound of your nickname for him on your tongue, the way you shortened his name sounded so much better than the harsh way that everyone else says it. He's about to make a crude comment most likely but you both get interrupted as you see flames and hear the distant yet deafening cries of the fellow villagers that echoes through the once peaceful afternoon.

The two of you run, as fast as you could, desperate to help, lungs burning as they frantically search for oxygen in the thick smokey air. You frantically search for your family, friends or anyone who could explain this sudden chaos.Y

Through the smoke of your burning village you and Simon come across a group of men holding torches, wearing odd metal masks, armed with blades, arrows and spears, things you'd hardly seen before in the shelter of your peaceful village. Though you both knew that it could be nothing good.

You pause, never having been in such a life threatening situation before, your instincts and common sense weren't quite up to par and why should they be when all you've known was peace, the only chaos was when Simon stole something from the market.

"um...escuse me gentlemen? Do you know-"

Your polite and timid words are abruptly cut short as they shoot an arrow, the metal tip barely missing your widened eyes and instead causing your cheek to bleed. You were frozen, you felt like crying, being sick and running away all at once. The overwhelming feeling of having danger so suddenly thrown in your face. Luckily for you, Simon managed to snap out of his own trance, grabbing you tightly and pulling you along.

"come on! we need to go!"

You run to the forrest in hopes of losing the men, weaving through the old and and sturdy trees, memories of the times you and Simon would spend hours up in the branches briefly flash in your mind before being promptly tugged again by Simon to the side, your eyes catch a glimpse of the spear that had just about missed your head.

The heavy breathing of you both echoes through the darkening forrest, your warm breath creating clouds of vapour in the air, your lungs sting with the sharpness of adrenaline and exercise.

The strange men clad in metal and weapons can be heard, their chasing relentless, voices yelling at each other to guide more of them towards you. It goes silent for a few minutes, the only noise in the seemingly empty forrest being you and Simon's heavy breathing which you both desperately tried to quiet.

You and Simon turn to each other, a smile of relief on both your faces. You were finally safe, you began to think of all the ways to save the villagers, maybe you could find a nearby lord? Or maybe they'd just leave on their own?

But it doesn't take long until everything around you seems to go dull, that relief you felt just moments ago going cold, as you watch the spear tear through Simon's chest, the cracking noise of sharpened metal breaking bones and flesh of the man you adored embedded in your memories forever. You fall to the ground with him, almost as if you had been wounded yourself. The strange men seemed to believe so anyways as they left, not even checking if you two were dead, almost like this whole thing was just for their own sick enjoyment, enjoying the pain of families watching each other die, their only relief being the hope of seeing everyone in the afterlife.

As you fell to the floor everything felt dark, dull, an empty feeling of loss covered you. The moss on the forest floor was cool against the heat of your living body. You could see the way his eyes were fading, that beautiful brown that made you think of nature and warmth, going a ghostly grey. Your hands grasp onto him.

"no...no,.no, no... si! Please dont, you have to stay with me. Im begging you! I cant be without you...si, please"

A tight feeling in your heart takes away the rest of your breath, you can't speak properly anymore, only managing garbled pleas as if that would save the dying man in your arms, as if that would get rid of the spear in his back that pierced through his chest. Through your begging you still couldn't manage to utter those three words that you'd both been hanging off the edge of your tongues, those three words that was so obvious between you yet because they were never spoken neither of you dared to go further than friends.

The trees suddenly felt like they were watching, mocking you for your feeble love, laughing at how easily he was dying. They loomed over you, the bark twisting into cruel smiles as you begged Simon to stay with you.

He tries to brave a smile, barely breathing as he gets out his final words.

"god....I love it when you call me that"

And with that you saw the playful light drain from his eyes, that oh so beautiful brown gone pale.

You cried, you don't know for how long but you remember seeing the sun disappear in the corner of your eye more than once. As you cried your grip on Simon's icy body only got tighter, as if you could transfer your warmth to him to bring him back.

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ʀᴇᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅᴇᴅ ||

Hello everyone! Welcome to part one of my seven-part series featuring the one and only Neon Leon. I’m so excited to be sharing this with you all, and I hope you enjoy! Part two will be coming next week :)

|  next |  masterlist |

You stifle a yawn, rubbing your eyes as you sit back up from where you had fallen asleep in the kitchen. You stretch, feeling your spine pop. Your lips part for a solid yawn to escape, sleepily blinking a couple times.

You glance at the clock on the top of the archway that connects your kitchen to the storefront, realizing that your cookies are about to be burnt. You grab the oven mitts, avoiding the cloud of hot steam that escapes once you swing open the door to your oven.

You take out the tray, hissing when your finger barely touches the burning hot metal. You place it on the wooden counter, allowing the freshly baked cookies to cool. You hurry over to where you had set down another tray from the same batch of chocolate chip cookies you had made, still unbaked. You slide it into the oven, shutting the door with a relieved sigh. 

You look down at your crumpled dress, trying to brush out the creases but failing miserably. You shrug, deciding to take a quick shower. You change into a fresh set of clothes, slipping a recently-ironed cerulean dress onto your shoulders. You brush your tangled hair, brushing your teeth after. 

By the time you were done, the new batch had finished baking. You repeat your actions from earlier, but this time putting all the cookies straight into a basket lined with a red checked cloth. You lock the door behind you, heading out into the market.

Today was the day before the week-long festival celebrating the return of the long-lost princess. In the years she had been missing, the king and queen of the kingdom had hosted a small celebration of lights, calling it the Sun Festival in honour of their missing child in hopes that she would one day return. However, that had been last week, and now, they had extended it to celebrate her return.

You participated every year ever since moving to the kingdom five years ago. And every year, you repeated the same routine of giving away free samples of your pastries, and you gained recognition for having some of the best baked goods in town.

However, the reputation came with its downfalls. Every year without fail, a thief would steal at least five of each baked good you set out on display. You knew it was the same thief because they'd leave a tell-tale sign - an almost cocky way of letting you know they would never be caught. It came in the form of an italic capitalized '𝓛,' which was their initial, or so you suspected.

You knew almost everyone in the village, and every person whose name started with L had reassured you that they had never stolen a single item before. You believed them, especially since they were all decent people with alright reputations. 

As such, the search continued for five years, and the thief managed to escape the countless traps you set each time. It was absolutely infuriating.

You hand a cookie to Margaret, a girl only one year younger than you who helped to run her family's clothing store. They were your go-to for new clothes, and without fail, they'd always produce the most gorgeous dresses with subtle details that made them stand out. 

"Thanks, Y/n!" Margaret greets you with a smile, taking the cookie you hand to her. You chuckle at the messy bun she sports, helping to brush a few strands of her hair away from her eyes. She brings the cookie close to her face, inhaling deeply with a blissful sigh. 

"No worries, here's some for your parents, too, as thanks for the dress you made me." You hand her another two, and she takes them gratefully. 

"Aw, yes! They love your cookies! I had to convince them not to buy thirty like they did last year." Margaret groans at the memory of the entire bucketload of cookies her parents had brought back home. You giggle, remembering how excited her parents' faces were when buying a few loaves, croissants, and cookies.

"The dress looks great on you, though!" She looks you up and down, her eyes calculative as she views how the cerulean compliments your hair. 

"It's a little loose on the waist, but I think that's just the stress for this year's festival." 

"Oh, that can be fixed in a second! Hang on." She pulls out a few safety pins from her skirt pocket, approaching you and taking some of the material, fiddling with it. She takes a step back after a few moments, a satisfied smile on her face as you beam, the dress resting perfectly and allowing your corset to settle nicely on your skin.

"So, how's preparation to catch the thief going?" Margaret asks, putting the rest of the safety pins back in her pocket. You smirk. 

"Safe to say, that thief won't get away so easily this year." You hum, placing your hand on your hip with a smug smile. Hours of brainstorming for ways to catch them had proved fruitful, and you now had various plans in mind.

"That's good. Update me when you can! I gotta go off and finish another order." 

You wave goodbye to Margaret, who hurries off, watching her weave through the crowd and back into her shop. You continue to walk, handing out cookies to anyone in sight. 

The crowd of tourists almost made it impossible to squeeze through the public, and you had to hold your breath every now and then for some wiggle room. Your basket is practically empty, save for one last cookie. You were almost home, so that cookie would be saved as your late-night snack. 

"Ugh!"

You stumble, almost falling to the ground if not for a gloved hand holding your arm. You steady yourself, breathing a sigh of relief and glancing at the cookie in your basket. Thankfully, it was still in one piece. You look back up with a glare, the cloaked stranger in front of you taking a step back. 

A hood covers their face, casting it in shadow. You wait for an apology, but none comes. So you stand and wait silently. They're adorned in a simple brown cloak and about a head taller than you. 

"Well? Aren't you going to apologize to me?" 

Your brows furrow, taken aback by the stranger's question. His voice is deep, yet there is an underlying playfulness within it.

"Excuse me, you bumped into me." You point out incredulously, raising a brow. 

The stranger chuckles, shaking his head. "You were the one not looking where you were going. Oh well, I'll accept this as an apology." 

Before you can even blink, a gloved hand snatches the cookie from your basket, holding it up to his eyes. (Or where you believe their eyes were. It was hard to tell.)

"Hey!" You protest, "That's mine!" 

"What about all the other cookies you were handing out? Aren't they yours too?" 

You fall silent, fingers curling into fists as you rein in your temper. You can hear the conceit in his voice as he tucks the cookie into his pocket. So much for your supper that night. 

"Fine." You snap, feeling irritated by the man's presence. 

"So, you're a baker?" You can almost hear the smirk on his lips.

"Yeah, I am. So you'd better enjoy that cookie because there sure won't be any left tomorrow." You nod towards his pocket where your precious cookie rests, and he chuckles. You cross your arms, ready to end the conversation with the rude man in front of you.

"Is that so? Well, I'll be sure to stop by then." His words have an almost impish edge, and your frown only spurs him to take a single bite of the freshly baked good he had snatched from you earlier.

He hums, and your curiosity overrides your disdain for the man. You wait for his reaction, expecting nothing less than a sigh of bliss.

"Kinda salty."

"Salty?" You repeat, flabbergasted by his response. He shrugs nonchalantly, watching your shoulders slump. You run your fingers through your hair, a few strands falling across your eyes as you laugh in disbelief.

No. You shouldn't believe in the words of a stranger who bumps into you without so much of an apology, much less blaming it on you. 

You had better things to do, like catch a thief.

Besides, the thousands of people that flock to your store every year are more than enough to validate how good your baking is.

"Well," You address the stranger, and he shifts his weight to rest on one leg, "Thank you for your feedback, but I will not be changing the recipe to suit the taste buds of one man when many others enjoy my baking." You plaster a fake smile onto your lips, your words are emotionless, and your eyes regard him coldly. 

"Goodbye." You walk past him, brushing against his cloak and approaching your door. You can sense his gaze on you, and you almost fumble with the keys. You unlock the door, cooly making your exit and shutting it behind you before heaving a frustrated groan in the comforts of your own home.

You leave your basket on the counter, eyeing the empty shelves of the store. You quickly eat, preparing for the all-nighter ahead of you if you want to get those pastries out by the morning. You push all thoughts of the earlier encounter out of your mind, washing your hands and turning out batches of dough that had been resting.

You work into the rest of the night, restocking empty shelves until the rooster that usually wanders into the empty streets of the early morning crows loudly. You look up from the piles of washed and dried metal trays, wiping off the sweat on your brow. 

You glance around the store, a satisfied smile on your lips as you survey the shelves filled with loaves of bread of different varieties and, of course, your famous chocolate chips on a table in the centre of the store.

You head upstairs to your bedroom, quickly washing up in the bathroom before collapsing onto your bed in a tired heap. You nap for an hour, your clock soon ringing to wake you up. You drag yourself out of bed, putting on a new peach-coloured dress after a cold shower that wakes you up. 

Sliding on a pair of comfortable flats, you head back downstairs where a crowd of regulars that visit your store every festival await you. You wave hello through the glass windows, setting up the drawer where you store your coins for change after the customers make their payment. 

You take off the cloth covering all the shelves of baked goods, everyone outside becoming visibly excited. You fold them and put them away into a separate drawer, taking a deep breath before unlocking the door. 

Customers pour in, making a beeline for the products they want. The bell hooked up to the top of the door jingles every time it's open, and it was a constant sound with the stream of people flooding in.

You take your place behind the counter, calculating the right amount of change and bagging the baked goods in paper bags. 

"Hey, Mr. Smith, how's the missus?" You greet the tailor, who holds three loaves of rosemary and olive bread and two medium-sized bags of cookies. He hands you three crowns, and you open the drawer to give him the change.

"She's back home with Margaret, but she says hello, and to pass you this." He takes out a small handkerchief with your initials embroidered, and you gasp in delight. Cerulean lace surrounds the edges, the soft material like a cloud against your hand. 

"Thank you!" You gush, folding it gently and placing it in your pocket. "I love it." You hand him back the change, bagging up the loaves in the paper bags. You wave him off with a toothy smile, paying attention to the next customer in the queue. 

You take a break in the afternoon to have lunch, shutting the door much to the chagrins of others. You wave the tourists off, directing them to other stalls while you have lunch and prepare the first trap of many.

During the past few years, you had noticed that the thief always came around nightfall when everyone was distracted by the sunset. 

Not this time.

This time you had a plan and were confident it'd succeed.

You restock the shelves, making sure to leave the last bag of cookies sitting on the table. You grab some pepper, sprinkling some inside the bag. You grab a small jar on the counter, coating the bag's underside and making sure it isn't apparent to the thief.

It was a jar of finely ground rose petals, the pigmented powder a gift from Margaret as a lip stain for your lips. However, you were using it to set the trap instead. Hopefully, she'd understand.

You hum a cheerful tune under your breath, heading into the back and waiting for the familiar chime of the bell. You grab a tray of croissants, heading back into the storefront. You fill the empty shelf, ensuring the wax paper is lined properly so the pastries wouldn't touch the bare wood.

You turn, glancing over your shoulder at the cookie trap you set.

Or at least where the cookies were a minute ago.

The tray clatters to the floor as you stand still, stunned by how the thief had managed to slip in and out without so much as a sound. This was the first time this had happened. You had even locked all the windows as a precaution, so how had he managed to get in??

The door was firmly shut, and the bell hadn't made a single chime or jingle. 

The edge of the table has a faint dusting of red, and an italic '𝓛' is once again written in it. You grit your teeth, seething at the fact that the thief had not only managed to elude your sight yet again, but the cocky inscription of their initials was the tipping point.

"UGH!" You throw your hands up in frustration, your blood boiling as you storm back into the kitchen. You see yourself in the mirror, cheeks red and nostrils flared. Your eyes are filled with frustration.

You were so sure that it'd work!

You quickly march out the door to your store, eyes darting around as you try to spot the thief in the crowd. They had to be around somewhere.

You spot a flash of red, and you run, gently pushing past people and muttering, "excuse me!" in a rushed tone. You couldn't let them out of your side. They pause at a booth, and you finally catch up. "Got you now!" 

Your words die in your throat when you finally look up from where your hands are on your hips, panting heavily to catch your breath. A tall, muscular man looks at you with wide eyes, confused by your sudden accusation. 

You look down at his hands. You had seen red, hadn't you?

He holds a bouquet of roses, glancing down at it and back to you in a mildly unsettled manner. "Can I help you…?" He questions. He looks nervously at the owner of the booth you both are at, the owner shrugging helplessly. 

"I must have mistaken you for someone else," You stammer out, cheeks flushed from embarrassment, "Have a free cookie at my store as an apology." 

The man's face lights up, smiling broadly. "Gee, thanks!" 

You hear a faint chuckle, instantly looking up at the crowd and scanning it intently. You were sure that had to have been the thief. It had to be. 

You try to catch every face in the crowd, attempting to narrow down who it could have been. Unfortunately, it seemed that they had made yet another clean getaway. You practically deflate, almost tearing up out of frustration. 

"You all good?" The man you accused earlier asks, and you respond with a simple nod, wiping your eyes roughly with the back of your hand. 

"Yeah." You trudge back to your store with a forlorn look on your face. You clean the dust off the table along with the initial and restock the bags of cookies before opening for the evening crowd.

You focus on handling the customers, finally closing when the clock strikes midnight. You slide the lock shut on the front door, the now empty shelves a stark contrast to the early morning. You count the profit you made from the first day, sorting it into a small coin pouch and leaving the rest to use as change for the next day.

You wash up and head to bed, your body on autopilot. Your mind races with thoughts as you lay in your bed and stare blankly at the ceiling.

Today, the trap had failed.

That was what Plan B was for. It was only the first day, and there were still 6 more.

A spark of indignation is all it takes to get you fired up for the next day, and you drift off to sleep with a newly steeled resolve to catch that thief, even if it takes you countless plans from A through Z.

The following day, you wake up bright and early, changing into a rosemary-coloured dress, planning to upsell your herbed loaves of bread. You descend the stairs in your flats, brushing your hair back into a low ponytail. 

You restock the shelves again, welcoming yet another crowd into the store. The day passes, and you're so caught up in promoting and selling your products that you almost forget to take a break for dinner. 

Your hair is slightly dishevelled, locks framing your face as you wipe away the sweat with a damp cloth in the kitchen. You sit down, grab some baked potatoes and load them up with cream, sliced spring onions, and pickles. You set the plate down on the table, preparing the next trap.

You set down five loaves of bread where the cookies used to be(they had all sold out in the morning), securing a small bell to the last one and leaving a small hidden loop on the floor. It was a standard rabbit trap. 

When the thief inevitably steals the loaves of bread, they'd pull on the last loaf, which would trigger the bell and the rope attached to it, causing their foot which would land in the small loop, to be trapped in the tightened rope, leaving them dangling and helpless.

Was it too much for Plan B?

Yes.

Would it stop you from using it?

Absolutely not.

So you stay in the back, choosing to sit so that you are close enough to the storefront and can rush out immediately. You eat your baked potato slowly, catching your breath from the hectic morning and taking the time to recharge for the evening crowd. 

Minutes pass, and you begin to think the thief will never come.

The bell jingles.

You can hear muffled grunting, grabbing a solid frying pan on your stove, and slowly approaching the front. You peek out from behind the arch wall dividing the store's front and back, seeing a cloaked figure dangling by their green foot from the ceiling.

Wait.

Green?

Your brows furrow in confusion, walking towards them.

You recognize the cloak. It was the stranger you had bumped into the other day. The one who had said your cookie was too salty. 

"Juuust great." His sarcastic comment makes you frown. He hadn't noticed you yet. You suck in a sharp and audible inhale through your teeth, and his body visibly stiffens, turning around. 

His hood still shrouds his face in shadow, though you were pretty sure the rest of him was green too. His hands are holding down his cloak from exposing more than just his legs, and he gasps.

"Uh, rude?? You can't just stare at people like that, pervert."  

Your face heats up at the lazy accusation he throws your way, eyes narrowing into a glare. You hold the frying pan defensively and turn it, so the handle is facing him instead. You poke his chest a few times.

"Ow." His deadpan voice makes you flinch, and you raise your brows. 

"Look, this is all just a misunderstanding. I came here to check out the cookies again, and your stupid trap thing," He gestures to the rope around his ankle, keeping him dangling from the ceiling, "is making me late to meet my brothers." When gesturing, he lets go of the cloak, and it falls towards the ground. He yelps, clumsily grabbing it and holding it back to hide his body. 

You catch a glimpse of two swords he has tucked away on his waist, along with more green skin. Your eyes study him until something catches your eye. You grab his hand, leaning in and looking at the bright red coating his fingertips.

"Ha!" You gasp as elation begins to rush through your body. 

You did it! You caught the thief!

The thief sighs, his hands going limp. "Okay, fine. You got me." He caves easily, and you rejoice with a victorious giggle. 

"I did it! I caught you! Ohhhhh, you've been such a pain in the side for five years. Five years! I've waited for this day. Now, pay up for all the stuff you took." You demand, lips pursed as you point the frying pan at him threateningly. You lean back smugly, your head tilted. There was nowhere for him to run, much less escape. 

"So, about that…." You frown at his response, firmly pressing the frying pan's tip against his chest. "Wait! I don't have money. Can't you just put it on my tab, and we can settle this later. You can contact me through my lawyer!" He cries out. 

You were getting tired of talking to a shadowed face. You wanted to see the face of the man who had been an irritating source of loss for you over the years. You use the handle to flip back the hood.

Your eyes widen, looking down at the thief in front of you. 

Was he even human? 

His entire body was lime green, a blue bandanna around his face with holes carefully cut out for his eyes. The tails of his bandanna fall out of the hood, dangling upside down above his head. Red crescent-like stripes over his eyes add a pop of colour, and you're stunned by the creature in front of you.

Your grip loosens, the frying pan sliding out of your hand to meet the floor with a loud clang. You take a step back, almost stumbling back. 

"So... this is awkward." You flinch when he speaks, blinking rapidly as you process the sight. You don't know where to look, eyes darting from his face to his legs. He watches you with an almost amused smile, and you don't know whether to take that as offensive.

You’re a hundred percent sure you voice is shaky, scrambling to pick up your frying pan - your only weapon. Your legs give out, and you fall to the ground, pointing it at him with trembling hands. Your lips part.

"What are you?"

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Six

A phone is buzzing nearby. It isn’t my ringtone so I ignore it and keep my eyes shut, trying to go back to sleep, waiting through each agonising vibration on the wooden bedside table until it stops. Then it rings again. And again. I groan, opening my eyes just a sliver to be greeted by a chink of harsh white December sun glaring in through a gap in the curtains and causing a boring pain right in the centre of my forehead. The phone keeps ringing.

Marine eventually shifts in the bed beside me and fumbles for it. “Oh it’s my dad.” She says groggily, and then answers it. I bury my head under the duvet as she talks to him, her voice too loud, everything too bright, a surging anxiety consumes me as memories of last night begin to come back to me. God, I think I was really drunk. Really really drunk. 

“I stayed with a friend last night.” Marnie is saying to her father with an impertinent tone. “Well, yes… yes. No I didn’t-” She sighs and gets out of the bed to start pacing around the room whipping her discarded items off my floor. “Yes I remember that, obviously dad. No- okay well I know. What, right now? But- yeah, she lives in town, can’t you just come and get me? Why? Ugh. Well it’s going to take ages then.” I roll over and watch her with the phone balanced between her cheek and shoulder while she tries to strap one of her platform Mary Janes onto her foot. Her face is screwed up sourly. “Well, no need to take that tone. I realise that… The traffic actually isn’t bad on Saturdays, so that’s a total lie. Well, fine, okay. I’ll get there whenever I get there.” She hangs up the phone and shoves it into the pocket of her blue shag coat that she’s now slung over her shoulders. “Where’s my bag?” She demands so primly that her mouth could be stuffed with plums. 

I sit myself up slowly in the bed feeling like I’m a wounded patient and rub my aching eyes, my mouth feeling as though there were birds nesting inside it all night. “You left it at the party I think.” 

“Oh for fuck sake. Did you not get it from the bedroom before we left?” 

“I couldn’t have gotten it from the bedroom when I didn’t know it was in there.”

“No need to be smart with me.”

“I’m literally just saying that I didn’t know it was there.” 

She rolls her eyes dramatically, making it clear that she has no time for me today. “Well, you’ll need to loan me money for the bus then.”

“I don’t think I have money for the bus, I used it all up to pay for the taxi.”

She pauses so that I know how incredulous she is. “You don’t have five euro?”

“I don’t know. Maybe in like, change. Somewhere.”

She crosses her arms and says nothing, but the impatient tapping of her foot compels me to climb out of the covers and reach for my bag, in a heap at the bottom of the bed with yesterday’s clothes. It’s so cold outside of my warm cocoon of blankets that I shiver, goosebumps rising on my bare arms. I zip open the coin pocket of my purse and I can imagine a cartoon dust cloud puffing out of it. Aside from a few miserable coins, I really don’t have much. I count out two euros and thirty cents in my palm, an assortment of coppers, a couple of twenty cents and a rogue fifty cent piece. I offer the handful up to her pathetically and she regards it with such disdain that I feel like some mediaeval peasant haggling for a loaf of bread at the town market. 

“I’m sure I have more lying around.” I feel my cheeks burn up with embarrassment, and I start rifling through drawers looking for something, anything so that I won’t seem like the brokest girl on planet earth. I’ve truly used every last cent of my financial aid for the term. Thank God it’s almost Christmas. I feel her eyes on me the whole time but I can’t look at her in case I see pity in them. How have I ended up here? Scrounging for the fare of a meagre bus journey in front of a girl who has an actual jacuzzi in her house. 

Finally, at the bottom of a drawer I feel my fingers brush against flat metal. A two euro coin. I hold it up triumphantly.

“Thanks.” Marnie says flatly and plucks it from my fingers. “This will hopefully be enough.” She drops it into the pile of change in her palm with a clink and then tucks her hair, a little lank and greasy, behind her ear. She straightens up and looks at me, her eyes steely grey and a slight frown knitted on her brows. “Well, I probably won’t see you before Christmas. So have a good one.” She’s already leaving the room as I reply: “Yeah, happy Christmas. Will I see you on New Years?” but she’s already gone. After that I crawl back under the covers and hug my knees to my chest, my throbbing, hangover headache permeating through my entire skull so fiercely that I can hear it inside my ears. I wonder if I’m going to be sick this morning. It’s been a while since I threw up from drinking, but it’s been a while since I’ve felt this badly too, and when I begin to smell the aromas of Claire’s saturday morning breakfast fry-up, I’m certain that I’m about to come face to face with the contents of my stomach. I tumble out of bed in a flash and stumble into the bathroom across the hall, slamming the door behind me before I get reacquainted with the toilet bowl. 

Prev // Next

[starlight-incarnate]

The First Elves as Aesthetics:

Finwë  —  grey skies, pine trees, stag's antlers, gritted teeth, piles of firewood, howling winds, lace table cloths, black ponds slick with ice, cautious, likes to plan, whispered confessions onto the autumn wind, the sharpness and cutting edge of a cold breeze, the glint of a metal blade, the bright teal of a midday ocean and the blackness of wild volcanic beaches, strong and independent, black hair, often staring into space, autumn mornings, braiding hair, love ballads, smiling fondly, lying by a small creek, falling in love when you shouldn't, starlit nights, regret, bittersweet kisses, being left wanting more.

Míriel  —  memories of past lovers, withering flowers, polished gravestones, being young and naive, gathering flowers and seeds, uncut gemstones, the gleam of a single tear falling, the silver reflection of the moon mirrored on the surface of a pond, an absence of sound, morning mist, hazy eyes, uncertain smiles, subtle exchanged glances, rich tapestries, tears streaming down their face, shattered promises, a not-quite persistent yearning, shaky breaths, moonlit rows, nimble hands, dancing to music playing softly in the distance, trusting the secrets of the night, waking up anew with determination.

Indis  —  warm tea, comfortable silence, soft eyes, messy hair, golden clouds, the sound of rain, a heart traced onto fogged up windows, yellow clothes on the days where the sun seems to have left forever, waking up to tear-stained sheets and feeling a little bit lighter, hopscotch in puddles, love at first sight, soft forehead kisses, secretly insecure, easily mistaken for the bad guy, wants the best for others, lost in thought, star gazing, always wearing some sort of shimmery nail polish, flowing dresses, wavy hair, the peace maker, the one to be called when something very specific is needed, butterflies, sparkling eyes, second chances.

Ingwë  —  bare feet on warm summer dirt, flower crowns slipping off heads after being flung back with laughter, mugs of too-sweet tea, sweet kisses, heart-wrenching poetry, pressed flowers, long hugs, warm and hazy afternoons, singing old songs, sunflowers, laughing till your chest hurts, bathing in sunlight, has the brightest smile ever seen, dried paint on their clothes, headbands and scrunches, fresh pancakes in the morning, stubborn but quick to learn, wanting to be on time and always a few minutes late, an artist's way of thinking, a journey of discovering one's passion.

Ilwen  —  the feeling of walking barefoot, inhaling the salty smell of the sea, forgetting about everything else but the fact that you are alive in that exact moment in the universe, grapes and oranges, the refreshing feeling of laying on the cold sand, complex architecture, busy markets filled with noises, the light swaying of a ship, sun-kissed skin, the smell of freshly baked bread at sunrise, drinking coffee under the warm morning sun, linen sheets, home-made jam, caring touches and warm smiles, looking for a shape in every cloud going by, simply enjoying the scenery, watches butterflies, drowsy days. 

Ingwion  —  dark brown eyes, apple cider, thunder, creaking doors, owning up to rare losses, not accepting the path already created, confidently moving, staying in the deep end of a pool, reserved laughter, reckless, somehow manages to stumble into opportunities whenever they need them, quite the expert at falling out of love, will not worry unnecessarily, not taking the word of strangers seriously, seems warm but surprisingly coldblooded, deadpan jokes, sees everything but speaks rarely, dark under-eyes, loves stormy nights, punches and bruised knuckles, surprises and laughter, long empty hallways, tight hugs.

Thingol  —  regal, attempting to remain calm while in pain, silver moonlight, a thin pane of glass between you and society, luminescence, corrupted kings, forced smiles, too much ambition, protective of their family, falling through the sky, sharp collar bones, lip biting, purposeful words spoken with a sharp tongue, black coffee, dangerously flashing eyes, dripping false smiles, talking to people they have never met before aggressively, not held back by wanting to be in control, hoping for your demise, viciously smiling at others innocence, craving to turn the knife in the wound, perfectionism.

Olwë  —  begging to fly, pebbles thrown into the sea, rain falling against your face, not knowing if you are alive or dead, fingers tracing the petals of a wilting flower, rejoicing in storms, losing reality, staring at the horizon, deep conversations, knowing looks, rather standing shoulder to shoulder with one of their own than with an outsider, living a solitary life, sleeping on the ground, carving their name into rocks, crashed and wrecked boats, smoke signals, a fear of confrontation, bruised knuckles, patiently waiting for their enemies unhappy ending, pretty smile concealing a savage nature, bad manners sometimes.

Elmo  —  faded sunsets, running wild in the mountains and plains, kissing their lover in uninterrupted nature, dim lights, diving deep into the ocean, heartbeat pounding against your chest, flowers blooming slowly, feeling like you were made for another world, flowers growing in your heart, the accidental brush of fingers with your lover, nervously running one hand through your hair, red cheeks, tenderness, falling in love with someone you don't even know yet, pink clouds, nervous fiddling, notebook pages full of rambling, moonlight, rainy days, dreamy eyes, healing people you love, curiosity, old folklore.

[venadad]

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[fromthe7thsidelines]

starter for @phantasiiae's Cloud , from Loz

"Looks like we've got an old contender in the ring tonight!" Despite being the new Don, Scotch insisted on still doing the introductions alone. "Did you know, my fine audience, our hero of Edge, Cloud Strife, once had an explosive win streak in Wall Market's Coliseum? How will he fare with our prize fighter?!"

Meanwhile —

Loz knew by now which chains he was supposed to break. Even if he wanted to break them all. Snap the metal from his neck, tear the leather from his face, crush the Don's throat with his bare heel. The sharp, twisting growl from his stomach reminded him not to.

From the bottom of the basement's upward ramp, he heard the cheering grow. He knew the Don liked to 'build hype', which just meant Loz had to tug on the chains loud enough to be heard, so people would cheer louder. Then he heard the reel in the ceiling start, threatening to drag him if he didn't follow.

So, otherwise wearing only a tied-together scrap of tarp and a tight muzzle over his mouth, he entered the warehouse's makeshift arena. "The Hound of Destruction!" Loz didn't like the Don's nickname for him, but he'd heard it enough times that he only glared. Doing what the Don wanted meant getting food. He obediently broke the extra chains from his arms and shoulders with a single pull and a growl.

Then, though, he saw his opponent. Blond hair, eyes a little bluer than his... he knew them, didn't he? Did he? Teal gaze widened and head tilted, while a small ache prickled through the 'birthmark' down his right arm.

[simplegenius042]

FC5 Silva Omar Aesthetics

Bold - YES

Italics - Somewhat

HOLLAND VALLEY.

red, gold, and orange leaves against a clear blue sky // rows of apple trees in an orchard // pick your own pumpkin patches // baskets of puppies // a sleeping fawn hidden away from predators // pumpkin spice // the bite of apple cider // a harvest festival // the faint smell of a bonfire on the wind // the slight unease of getting lost in a corn maze // a hint of fall in the air when it’s still warm // golden sunsets // leaves just beginning to turn from green to orange // the rumble of a tractor // the buzz of an airplane flying low overhead // golden wheat swaying in the wind // the smell of gasoline // sprawling river deltas // crystal clear water // an old wooden dresser // family heirlooms // jingling keys // crimson blood // dark ink on parchment // the sting of a bruise // the warmth of a grand fireplace // gunmetal // work boots in the mud // cattails // the harsh cry of crows // the faint musty smell of taxidermy animals // farm animals making a racket // open air farmers markets // catching your clothes on a barbed wire fence // a fresh breeze through an open window // white rocking chairs // old farmhouses // scarecrows // wild westerly winds // the barely contained excitement for the approach of autumn

WHITETAIL MOUNTAINS.

fishing at dawn // the smell of woodsmoke clinging to your clothes and hair // wolfsong // locking eyes with another predator // a night that falls faster than expected // the crisp hint of snow in the air // log cabins // the scent of evergreen trees // stone fireplaces // a well worn camouflage jacket // old field guide books// the smell of a cigarette still lingering on your hands // lager // the roar of whitewater rapids // cool dark caves // the rough wood of an antique gun // the scent of iron // woodland paths crisscrossed by gnarled tree roots // a haze of dust from a recent rockslide // losing your breath as you wade into an icy river // winding mountain roads // an eagle’s cry // the bright red flash of a foxes tail at the corner of your eye // the patter of rain on dead leaves // petrichor // seeing your breath in the cold morning air // the click of a projector // the jangling of a chain link fence // gunpowder // the sizzling of a grill // burnt hair // the grand lobby of a lodge // gravel crunching underfoot // the cry of blue jays // information boards // brochures piled on a table // cold metal bars // the sour smell of a lumber mill // the rough texture of scouting achievement badges // muffled oldies music from another room // sharpening a hunting knife // blood red leaves blooming from bone white birch trees // red bleeding into the edges of your vision

HENBANE RIVER.

cloying floral scents // the thick mist that gathers near the ground at dawn // dewdrops sparkling on spiderwebs // the almost too intense morning sun // unseasonable warmth // birdsong // honeyed wine // walking barefoot in the cool grass // the clanging of a jail cell door // spying hazy figures of animals in the fog // lemon balm and lavender // the low growl of a wildcat that you can’t see (but it sees you) // choking clouds of pollen settling on cars like snow // vineyards // faint humming and singing from an unidentifiable source // juniper berries // feeling uncomfortably hot in overly formal clothes // lace // burning incense // frogs in the reeds // soft brunette tresses // long winding rivers // mesmerizing music // glistening trout // the sweet nectar of honeysuckle flowers // rumbling of truck motors // glass beakers // bundles of dried flowers // wind chimes tinkling // rough concrete bricks // tumbling barrels // the ringing of a vintage phone // sweet words // broken promises // moonflower and datura // the smell of freshly cut grass // the faint sound of children laughing

JOSEPH’S COMPOUND.

babbling brooks // humming // whistling // dogs barking // grand oak trees // the faint sound of hymns // a crate of ripe peaches // melted wax candles // the smell of fresh newspaper clippings // caged birds singing // a warm embrace // wrought iron arches // flames reaching for the sky // gentle voices murmuring // your feet sliding in thick mud // pouring rain // vape smoke // the slight scent of sweat // ink on skin // the smell of wooden church pews // the rustle of hymnals // old book smell // slight hint of ozone from old electronics // bradford pear petals floating on the breeze

DUTCH’S ISLAND.

creaking metal hinges // the crackle of a radio // the scratch of an old record player // the smell of antiseptic // the flickering light of a projector // the feel of pushing pins into cork board // echoing footsteps // shelves stacked with canned food and mason jars // dark shadowy figures on the edge of your vision // gleaming metal badges // a table of bullet shell casings // vertigo from standing on swaying radio towers // the sound of shattering glass // whistling pipes // suffocating heat // the chatter of squirrels // faint scent of mothballs// the sputter of a boat engine // the high electronic whine of an old television turning on // the sound of distant gunfire // tear stained letters // old family photographs // the smell of a mildewy basement

[finnpoerebelscum]

FALLOUT - Chapter 17

Chapters Posted: 17 of 18

Rating: T+

Warnings: Canon-typical violence & fighting/blood/gore/graphic descriptions of injury/angst/hurt/comfort/Multiple POVs/self-sacrifice

Characters/Pairings: Poe Dameron/Finn, Karé Kun, Iolo Arana, BB-8, OCs.

Summary: Still reeling in the aftermath of Crait, Poe Dameron and Finn are sent to a secret Resistance base tucked away on Lothal to serve as acting generals. Their numbers dwindled to barely a handful, and with General Organa’s order grounding all surviving Resistance personnel to heal and regroup, morale is at an all time low. Poe grapples with his inability to sit still; the First Order looms, an ever-encroaching threat to what remains of the Outer Rim’s free space; intimate feelings grow impossible to ignore and a shocking return promises devastating consequences not only for those stationed on Lothal, but for the Resistance and galaxy at large. 

A/N: An AU adventure, a side-quest of sorts, to account for some of the time between TLJ and ROS. Stormpilot centric. Canon up until the end of TLJ (but does not take into account Resistance Reborn or the Finn/Rose arc).

Thank you to anyone who has read, liked, and/or reblogged! I am so grateful for you and your time.

Masterlist

CHAPTER 17

Afforded a diversion by the sudden influx of X-wings dropping out of hyperspace, Poe safely maneuvered the G1-A to the ground. 

A hail of blaster fire smacked into the landing deck as it came down, sailing through the opening once it hit the ground. Blasters up, they all jumped and ducked every time a bolt zapped into the metal near their heads. All but Ira, who stood behind Finn, unperturbed, stoic as ever.

“Nothing, huh?!” Iolo shook his head; Ira only smiled.

“There’s only a handful of them!” Finn said over the barrage. 

“Hey! Hey you!” A muffled shout came from outside. 

The cacophony dropped to half the decibel count and the thumping of boots receded. Finn risked a glance around his cover. A bolt immediately zinged off the durasteel by his shoulder and he jumped back. “It’s just three of them left out there!”

Poe nodded to the group. “On me.” 

They burst from the ship, overtaking the three remaining troopers with ease. 

The rumble of the battle above shook the ground. A chunk of debris smacked into the earth, sending up a spray of dirt. A mangled piece of a solar array beam. One TIE down—a fleet to go. 

Another mass whistled through the air, smashing into a nearby building, raining a cloud of dust and rubble shards over them. 

With BB-8 bringing up the rear, the group pounded down the alleyway into town. The deeper they ventured, the more dead stormtroopers they found. A couple of Kothalites lay by the white plastoid-clad bodies, lives lost protecting their homes, or each other. 

A dull roar began to mount from the belly of Kothal, the further they pressed toward the city center. It had to be coming from the market square…

The mechanical hiss of a door sounded to their left and they whirled, blasters up. 

Dr. Noam Bexon, sandy hair and round face smudged with soot and grime, poked her head out of the opening. “This way.”

“Where did you come from?” Iolo gaped at her.

She ignored him. “They got into the tunnels.”

“How?”

“When the base collapsed, it broke through some of the tunnel walls and they found their way in. We could use some extra hands to push them back out of town.”

“Iolo, Karé, BB-8. Go with Dr. Bexon. We’ll press forward.”

* * *

The dusty streets were barren save for a few bodies propped up in doorways or strewn across intersections. Some were stormtroopers. More were Kothalites. The roar Poe had heard morphed the closer they got. It was made up of voices. Shouts; chants. The city’s perimeters were unguarded, but the more they neared the square, the more troopers they encountered.

Ira moved swiftly, imperceptibly fast, as if every movement was calculated to dispense the least amount of energy possible. Even Poe, experienced in combat as he was, marveled at the calm. Ira Nyx was serene. Impossibly so, even as a trio of stormtroopers got the drop on them as they rounded a corner. 

Poe and Finn threw themselves back around the building as laser bolts showered the ground all around them. Ira remained out in the open, utterly composed, deflecting blasts with his hands alone. The lasers flicked away and embedded themselves in their shooters, who dropped in unison. 

“You’ve gotta teach me that,” Finn said as Ira returned to where they stood.  A moment passed between them, Ira looked ready to say something when the chorus of boots stamping dust picked up again. Just shy of a dozen troopers spilled into the open intersection, filling in where those before had just fallen. 

Ira reached out and gave both Finn and Poe’s shoulders a warm squeeze. “May the Force be with you.” 

Poe’s heart sank as he met the abyssal, yellow eyes one last time. A silent goodbye. To the stranger turned friend who’d brought him back from death just hours ago. 

Ira stepped out into the open. 

“Ira, hey—” Finn staggered after him. “No!”

 Poe grabbed a fistful of Finn’s jacket and yanked him back, wrapping his arms around him tight as he struggled.

The army stood its ground. Ira advanced slowly into the middle of the intersection until he was staring down the barrels of dozens of blaster rifles. He closed his eyes. 

Some of the troopers exchanged glances. Then, they opened fire. 

When the dust cleared, the little army had been razed, laying in haphazard jumble across ground. Ira Nyx was gone. His empty robes lay in a heap where he had just stood. Finn stared, rooted to the spot. Poe, arms still wrapped around his shoulders, had to drag him away. He pressed his cheek to Finn’s. “Finn. Finn! He knew what he had to do. He made the choice a long time ago.” 

Finn sniffed and gave Poe’s forearm a squeeze. He released him.

Muffled shouting pierced the air. 

The two broke into a sprint, the market square coming into view down the alley ahead. Three stormtroopers clattered into the intersection between them and the market.

“Hey! I’m over here, you useless plastic trash baskets!”

One of Poe’s eyebrows shot up as he and Finn exchanged a glance. They’d recognize that voice anywhere. Kemi. 

They stole a glance into the intersection as the “trash baskets” launched into pursuit of their heckler and out of sight. By the time they vaulted around the corner, one trooper had Kemi by the throat with a gloved hand, the other arm pinning hers to the sides of her body. Poe and Finn darted forward, each blasting one of the other two flanking troopers to the ground. As they whirled on the lone trooper holding Kemi, she rammed a heel into an ill-placed gap of armor plates at the trooper’s groin. He crumpled to the ground. She brought the heel of her boot down on his visor with a final, loud crunch. 

“All right then,” Poe said. “Let’s keep moving.” 

“You took your sweet time coming back,” Kemi said, wiping a hand across her mouth. It came away bloody. “We were getting on fine without you.” It was said lightly, though her eyes didn’t mean it.

“I can see that.” Poe grabbed her shoulder as she started back for the square. “I’m sorry, Kemi.”

She nodded, eyes filling, but her voice was steady. “The base collapsed on a bunch of them after you left. Put a hole in one of the tunnels… they found their way in. Killed anyone who tried to fight back. So we laid low. Let them police us. Then, they started sending their numbers away, till only half was left. That’s when we attacked. There’re still a lot of them, but we’ve cornered them in the square.”

“You really didn’t need us after all.”

The reverberations of engines pulsed above them and Finn and Poe paused to look up at the sky. Eight trooper transports had pulled up off the ground and launched into the air, back up toward the staged Destroyers—Destroyer. Only one remained now. The battle raged on a few stratospheres below the flagship, but significantly less TIEs dotted the sky.

“What the hell are they doing?”

“They’re… They really are pulling out extra personnel,” Finn shook his head, wide-eyed. “They think they’ve already won.”

“Let them keep thinking that, then.”

They’d been caught off guard, and were paying the price. In the grand scheme of things, it could barely be considered a defeat. The First Order certainly wouldn’t think of it as one. More of an embarrassing, but inconsequential blip in their planet-killing record. 

But, for the Outer Rim, for the Resistance, this was a battle whose memory would shimmer. A symbol of the resilience of the light in the galaxy, stretching all the way to its furthest reaches. No matter how dim or how few still believed in it, it was there. Kothal had saved itself. 

* * *

“You’ve put so much dedication into your service to the First Order in these last few months—it would be cruel of me not to allow you to at least enjoy the show.”

Tallon swallowed hard at the bitterness rising in his throat, heart banging painfully against his ribs. He clenched his teeth against his ragged breathing and ground out, “What now?” 

“Your work with us has only begun. We can’t fault you for it, as you explained this could be a possibility, but General Organa was not present at any of the bases you gave up. Your work must continue. You will be giving us the location of the remaining bases. The Resistance must be wiped from the galaxy, and we must start with their beloved leader.”

“So that’s why I’m not dead.”

“Oh, Tallon. I do hope that hasn’t been keeping you up at night. We plan to keep you very much alive. You have done a great service to the First Order. You have a bright future here.”

Tallon watched numbly as another TIE fighter decimated an X-Wing, the pilot standing no chance of survival as the durasteel burst into a million little pieces. That could have been anyone. Any of the pilots he knew. Those he’d shared meals with, survived missions with, repaired vital equipment for. That pilot, whoever they had been, and the lives of all of those lost on Kothal Base and the others he had provided coordinates for—not only coordinates, but created, with his own hands, the weapon that would kill them all. And they were asking him to do it again. His eyes were pulled down to his boots. Smooth, black leather had replaced his weathered, brown lace-up Resistance issue boots. He was one of them now. 

Every ounce of tension melted away from his body. Feeling returned to his fingertips and toes. His breathing eased; the battering of his heart against his ribs slowed til it faded into the background.

“Thank you, sir.”

Admiral Gale finally peeled his eyes away from the carnage to look at him, an ugly smirk pulling up one corner of his thin, gray lips. “For?”

“Reminding me of my purpose. My mission.”

“The First Order has great plans for the galaxy. A noble cause of which to be a part. You simply needed to be shown the way—” 

Tallon Voxel allowed himself a few moments to savor the shock of realization on the admiral’s face, then closed his eyes and stepped off the edge.

* * *

A wisp of movement at the edges of Poe’s vision caught his attention. It stopped him in his tracks. Finn powered on, unaware, bounding several paces further ahead hot on Kemi’s heels. 

There it was again. 

Down the alley to his right. 

Jawline a singed and gory mess, the collar of his shirt dried into rusty splotches, Torin Baz stood in the middle of the alleyway, grinning.

[aishavass]

The applications in DevOps applications and big data is expected to propel the implementation of bare metal cloud service. The North American region is...

[screamingatanemptyroom]

“This job is boring.”

The young man leaned back on his stool with a sigh. His guard uniform, poorly fitting, made him appear even younger than his actual age. His cap sat too low on his head, and he had to keep reaching up to push it back to be able to see.

The older man sitting across from him laughed. “That’s a good thing in this line work, kid.” He stared up at the cold night sky with a wry grin, “It’s when things are interesting that you have to worry.”

“You say that, but I never really wanted a guard job.” The younger man pulled out his magical artifact, rolling the gold crusted wand between his hands. The casual motion seemed at odds with the expensive appearance of the item, but he seemed to give it no thought, even tossing it a bit from side to side in his boredom. “I graduated in the top third of my class in the Royal Academy. I was offered a great position in the army.”

“Then why didn’t you take it?” The older guard watched the clouds slowly cover the full moon, frowning as it slowly draped the area around the entrance they guarded in darkness. The magically lit lamps seemed all too dim against the oppressive night air. His breath began forming clouds in the air, which surprised him, he hadn’t realized it would be that cold tonight.

“The wife.” The young man groaned, leaning back even further until he was in danger of falling from his seat. “She’s pregnant with our first, and said she’d kill me if I went ‘gallivanting off to war while she grew my child in her body’.”

“Smart lady, trying to save your naïve hide.” The darkness around them deepened, it became harder to see past a few yards. “Young men like you are little more than cannon fodder in the war. No use you dying just so our king can get his hands on better magical ore.”

“You sound just like my wife.” He rolled his eyes. “Now I’m stuck here, guarding this stupid building.”

The older guard frowned at that, still watching the darkness. “It’s not stupid. This artifact has the power to take down the city.”

“Only if you had someone powerful enough to use it, which there hasn’t been in thousands of years! Any thief who stole it would be left with an expensive looking paperweight and a price on their head.”

“Let’s hope we never have to test that.”

They fell into uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. The older man stared into the night, not even the stars visible now, and felt a deep sense of unease. The sounds around them, birds, bugs, the wind through the alleys, the chatter of the night market nearby, all faded to silence. Realizing this, he stood up, clutching his artifact, a worn wooden club, in his hand.

“What are you…?” The younger man started to ask, only to be shushed by the older.

“Something is wrong.”

The darkness and the silence deepened, leaving this feeling of pressure, as if the air around them were solidifying. The guard tightened his grip on his artifact, terror slowly rising within his chest. He started a chant, the complex syllables getting tangled in his panic, but finally finished the spell successfully, allowing a light to shine from the end of the club.

It didn’t help, the extra light illuminated nothing, being sucked into the darkness and disappearing.

Finally, the young man lost patience. “WHO’S THERE?”

There was silence.

…

…

…

And then, the darkness answered:

“I am here.”

Both men were thrown back, slammed against the wall behind them, barely able to breathe against the crushing force holding them in place.

“The Earth is my Bone.” The voice spoke up once more, cold, precise, inhuman.

The ground underneath them rose up like a hand, slamming its fist of stone and earth against the door, crumpling it like tin foil rather than the reinforced magic metal it was.  A figure of darkness stepped forward, its presence sucking in the light around them.

“How is this possible?” The younger guard whispered, horrified at the magical cataclysm around them. “There’s no chants… no artifacts…”

“Call for backup!” The older man yelled, grabbing for the alarm artifact at his belt, trying to remember the associated chant to activate it. His fingers had barely brushed the metal, however, when he froze, feeling the gaze of the being on him.

“The Water is my Blood.”

A flood of water rose up from the broken ground, racing into the building, buckling its walls, shattering its windows. The two guards were carried away by the whirlpool, their weapons and alarms wrenched from their grasp.

The younger man could swim, but his older partner was not as lucky. Desperately he tried to keep his head above the water, but the current kept sucking him in.

The being of darkness stepped forward once more.

“The Air is my Breath.” It continued to speak, stepping past the broken entryway into the secure building.

A fierce tornado broke out it, tearing apart the surrounding walls until there was nothing left but a metal stand in the midst of debris, holding a glowing golden orb. The wind picked up the artifact, carrying it close to the being.

“NO!”

Despite the guard’s shout the being’s arm reached out, and from its hand darkness coated the artifact, as if placing it in a container of magic.

The younger guard screamed, but the air was pulled from his lungs and the sound died as soon as it rang out. He tried to take a breath, gasping, but there was nothing to breathe in. He could no longer see the older guard, his body had long since been dragged away by the now subsiding water. He tried to chant, to use his wand. He had always excelled at magic, but the words could not leave his lips.  His vision was darkening, but he could still see the glowing red eyes of the being as it tucked away the artifact it had stolen.

He thought of his wife, pregnant, waiting at home, and felt a moment of calm sadness in the midst of his panic.  Tears filled his eyes, only to be swept away by the magical wind.

This job was supposed to be safe.

“The Fire is my Spirit.”

The entire area erupted in large red flames, the metal and stones incinerated, their golden ashes flying into the cold winter sky.

The being turned away, leaving only a whisper behind.

“I am the Magic.”

The wind, earth, water and flames slowly receded.

“The Magic is Me.”

The clouds rolled back, allowing the full moon to shine once more. It illuminated the scattered wreckage of what once had been a magically secured building. The two bodies of the guards laid twisted, burned and torn on the ground, their artifacts broken into useless pieces besides them.

The being of darkness vanished, the golden artifact disappearing with it.

_______________________

“Rose.” Someone was shaking her awake.

Groaning, she slowly opened her eyes, swearing eternal vengeance on whoever was brave enough to try to wake her. Her blurry vision cleared as she rubbed her eyes and focused on the serious face in front of her.

That can’t be right. She thought sleepily. Gadril is never serious. Her mentor was always smiling, joking around. Even when everyone else around him was sad, he never lost his grin.

He was frowning now.

“Get up.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his tone stressed.

Rose jumped out of bed, glad for once she had fallen asleep in her clothes after staying up too late practicing magic, and threw on a jacket.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, grabbing a piece of bread out of her stash before following him out the door. “Did someone die or something?”

Thump. Gadril stopped suddenly, and she bumped into him, almost falling backward if she hadn’t caught herself on the door frame in time. His eyes met hers, and she felt a burst of fear at the look in them. She hated that look. She knew it all too well.

It was the same look her father had the night he had died.

“I promised your father I would take care of you.” He spoke up again, his gaze slipping away to stare at something she couldn’t see. “To teach you magic, teach you to be able to protect yourself.”

“What’s going on?... You’re scaring me.”

“Good.” He looked at her again. “The Golden Sphere was stolen last night.”

If anything Rose felt more confused. “The ultimate artifact in the history books? Why would anyone steal that? What does that have to do with us?”

“It has everything to do with us… with you.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but hesitated. “But I’m going to do my best to make sure you stay out of it.”

He was walking again, the pace hard for Rose to keep up with given her shorter leg span. She trotted along, finally growing tired and whispering under her breath, pushing the air from her lungs.

“The Air is my Breath.” At her words, the air behind her moved, helping her to travel further with each step and keep up. Gadril felt her magic and frowned harder.

“I told you not to be frivolous with magic.”

“No, you taught me that I am the magic. It’s an extension of me and what I need to accomplish. Your long legs help you to walk too fast and magic helps me walk faster as well. It’s the same thing.”

“…You’re right, but you also don’t understand anything.” He ran his hand through his hair as he ducked into an alley, a shortcut that Rose wasn’t familiar with. “Magic out there isn’t what you think.”

They ran for what seemed miles of back alleys before coming to a halt by a non-descript door. Rose recognized the small carving on the side of it as Gadril’s insignia, a flame surrounded by chains. He put his hand on the door, muttering quietly and the insignia glowed bright red before the door swung open.

Inside was a small store room filled with treasure.

Rose stared, open mouthed and the gold and jewel haphazardly piled around. “Are you serious? You’re rich? I thought we barely had enough to eat!”

“We needed to stay low, and being rich is a bad way to do that.”

“Yeah, but definitely more comfortable.” She muttered, watching in confusion as he dug through the piles, throwing priceless objects haphazardly around in search of something. “What are you looking for?”

“This.” He pulled out a long dagger, the blade thin and needle-like. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather and the pommel set with a black jewel. Rose stared at the gem, feeling uneasy, it almost seemed like the space around the knife was somehow darker, as if the light around the jewel was being absorbed. Hesitantly, she reached out and took the offered weapon and hefted in her hand. It was lighter than she expected, and comfortable to hold.

“It’s an artifact. It was your father’s.” At his words she almost dropped the dagger, but after a moment tightened her grip on it. “He wanted you to have this.”

_______________________

“You’re worthless.” Her father looked at her with deep disgust, his eyes blurry from alcohol and lack of sleep. “Absolutely worthless... nothing like your mother.”

He threw his bottle down on the floor, and Rose shuddered with fear at the sound of crashing glass.

“Clean that up.”

_______________________

Rose glared at the dagger in her hand, and then at Gadril. “Liar. He hated me. He wouldn’t have wanted to leave me anything but debt and despair.”

Gadril sighed, his eyes sad. “Your father… was a complex man.”

“Not to me he wasn’t. He was supposed to be a parent. He wasn’t. He was supposed to take care of me. He didn’t. It doesn’t get simpler than that.”

“…I’m sorry, Rose.” His eyes stayed on hers, and she could see the sincerity in his gaze. “I won’t make his excuses for him. You don’t have to forgive your father, or trust him. Trust me instead. I haven’t steered you wrong yet.”

Rose was the first to look away, turning to study the dagger in her hand. “Why are you giving me an artifact? You told me these were worthless.”

“This is how the world uses magic.”

“Not you. Not me.” Her eyes glowed briefly with power “I AM the Magic.”

His hand dropped on her shoulder, his power smothering hers. “Stop it. Where you are going you will need to hide what you’ve learned. Pretend that artifacts are the only way to access your power.”  He moved back towards the door suddenly, as if listening for something.

“Where am I going?”

“SHH.” He shushed her, still staring out the doorway. After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke up again. “We have to keep moving. He’s almost found me.”

Who?!!! Rose was exasperated, but followed him out of the storeroom

Before she could ask more questions, the street in front of them exploded.

“FOLLOW ME!” Grabbing her hand, they raced down the street. His magic surrounded them, the wind pushing them forward at impossible speeds. Rose took a deep breath, steadying herself and moving with the magic. They ran along twists and turns, taking alleyways, to the point where she had lost all sense of directions. Finally, Gadril kicked open a door and dragged her inside. Turning, he placed his palms against the wood, whispering as the space filled with impenetrable stone.

Silently, they moved down stairs in the building towards the basement, only coming to a halt, breathless, as they were faced with a stone lined tunnel.

Gadril looked at her once more, and again Rose recognized the look, hated it.

_______________________

Her father was staring off at an open doorway with a sad smile. “I didn’t do right by you, did I? Your mother would kill me if she knew.” He paused. “Not that she will have a chance.”

Rose watched him, warily, unsure what his scheme was this time. Her father saw it, and laughed bitterly.

“No tricks, girl. Just saying goodbye. They won’t leave a body to bury, so no worries on that end. Just…” He reached out to put a hand on her head, stopping the motion as she pulled away. “…If you see your mother… tell her I love her.”

Rose shook her head, too confused to speak.

“Goodbye.”

Her father had been wrong. Whoever they were, they had most definitely left a body behind.

_______________________

“You look like you’re preparing to die."

Gadril froze at her words, and then laughed. “In a way, but I don’t plan on dying if I can avoid it.”

“Good, you still owe me money.”

His eyes were amused. “Like you didn’t steal a bunch of gold coins when we were in the storeroom.”

Rose put a hand on her pocket protectively. “That’s different, that’s the waking-me-up-early fee. You still owe me back the 15 coin I gave you for the cheese toasty last week.” Rose looked away. “So you better stay safe and bring it to me.”

She didn’t look back at him, refused to. But when she felt her mentor hug her, her eyes filled with tears despite her efforts to hold them back.

“Let’s both stay safe, okay?” Gadril whispered, then let her go. Stepping back, he handed her an envelope and pointed down the tunnel.

“Head that way, until you reach the end. Someone will meet you and take you the rest of the way. You will be enrolled at the Royal Academy as a special student. I’ve already set an identity for you.” He pointed to the envelope in her hand. “This has all the information you need. You are now the long last daughter of the Haren family.”

“Are you high?” Rose was frustrated. “You want me to pretend to be Noble? I’ll hang!”

“You’re more Noble than any of them. Don’t trust anyone who uses magic like us. Don’t trust anyone, but ESPECIALLY if they use magic like us.”

“What…?

A loud crash could be heard outside. Gadril pushed her towards the tunnel. “Go, Rose.”

Rose wanted to stay and talk, but hearing the explosions, and seeing the serious look in his eyes, turned and walked down the path instead.

“Remember Rose.” He called out after her. “YOU ARE THE MAGIC!”

There were silent tears clouding her vision, but her steps were steady and sure as she whispered back. “The Magic is Me.”  

It felt like goodbye, but Rose hoped to hell it wasn’t their last.

_______________________

“We have a new student, class! This is Rose, the long-lost daughter of the Haren family.” The teacher, Mr. Jentus, announced her identity with a bright smile, his words causing the class to devolve into whispers. Rose could make out a few of the mutterings, none of them complimentary towards her.

“A new student, in our senior year? Is someone sabotaging us?”

“I thought the last generation of the Haren family died?”

“I heard she’s a bastard.”

She sighed, feeling extremely tired.

“Do you have anything you’d like to say to the class?”

Lay low, Rose. Lay low.

“Not really. Just like everyone says: I’m the new student bastard child, back from the grave to sabotage your senior year with my bastardly undead ways.”

"..."

"..."

...Curse my sarcastic nature!

She noticed that only one of the students wasn’t staring at her, a blond-haired young man who was writing what looked like equations on the wall next to his desk, muttering to himself.

Well at least someone here seems normal.

Finally, the teacher spoke up. “Why don’t you take a seat, Rose?”

Giving a small sigh, Rose walked between the desks, idly stepping over a leg stretched out to trip her.  

“There’s a free seat here.” A handsome student reached out his hand, blocking her. His dark hair fell over his eyes, unable to block the intensity from his gaze. He had a magnetism to him, something that pulled Rose in, making her want to look closer, get as close as she could. “I’m James, by the way.”

His hand hung in the air, waiting for her to take it. She felt a pull within her, urging to grasp his hand with her own.

“...Thanks, I’m good.” She walked past, shuddering. She had an aversion to handsome, smooth-talking guys.

They reminded her of her piece of crap father.

She sat next to the muttering, equation writing student who ignored her.

Much better.

Settling into her desk with a sigh, she ignored the continued stares and whispers in her direction.

I hope Gadril is okay.

“Teacher?” One of the boys raised their hands. “How are we getting a new student in our senior year? There’s no way she’ll be able to keep up!”

Mr. Jentus just shrugged at the question. “She has a superior grade affinity for artifacts.”

The class broke out in whispers again. “You mean common grade?” Someone finally asked.

“You heard me, Jennifer. Superior grade. Easily. Making her the eighth in the history of the entire school to do so. One in a thousand talent. So she was assigned to the senior class given her special… circumstances, and will be given one on one tutoring to allow her to catch up.”

The rest of the class passed peacefully after that, although the stares would continue for the rest of the day.

_______________________

 A practical lesson was had after the classroom. The students all lined up in a magically fortified clearing in the forest outside of the school. Each of them carrying their artifacts, which seemed to come in all shapes and sizes.

Rose held her own, trying to restrain her frustrating.

This method of magic is so inefficient. She had caught on easily enough. After being brought to the school they had placed her hand on a measuring orb and had her read off an incantation. It had taken only a few seconds to realize that the artifact and the words were acting as a conduit for magical power. As someone who had always been taught to BE the conduit, and only use words to set the mind into the right state to channel, it was simple enough to use a different object instead, but terrible, horribly weaker.

Even her weaker attempt had, however, caught the examiner off guard.

I suppose it’s just as well. She thought with a shrug. Otherwise they might have put me in with the freshmen.

Spying the young man who had called himself James waving at her, trying to partner with her for the practical portion, she couldn’t help but sigh again. Then again, maybe the freshman class wouldn’t have been so bad.

She pretended not to see his intense stare and walked away to stand next to the student she had dubbed “Equation Boy.” He was using his artifact, a long staff, to draw in the dirt. Of course, the subject of those drawings was more equations. Rose came to the conclusion that this man must be a huge magical theory nerd.

Watching his work, she couldn’t help but speak up. “You dropped an ‘x’ there.”

Equation boy paused. He didn’t turn, didn’t speak, just stared intently at his work as if searching for the error. Rose pointed again. “Right there. I only saw it because the pattern seemed off.” Rose knew some magical theory, the building of incantations to be a magical conduit, but mostly basic stuff. Gadril had explained some, but told her that it was unnecessary.

She was, however, very good at spotting patterns.

Equation Boy had already corrected the error, and filled out the rest of the equation quickly. Just as she felt he would not acknowledge anything had happened, she heard a quiet mutter.

“Thanks.”

She swore she saw a small smile flit across his face, but to be honest, it might have been wishful thinking. She smiled too, feeling she had done her good deed for the day.

She spent the rest of the class creating small whirlwinds via chants and her dagger per her teacher’s instruction, feeling drained by the horrific inefficiency of magical power use. As she worked, she couldn’t help but overhear the group of girls next to her, who were whispering furiously.

“Did you see that? Phillip smiled!”

“NO!”

“I saw it! He must have thought of something deep and important, he never smiles!”

“He’s so mysterious and intimidating!”

Who is Phillip? She glanced over at James, who had his own group of lackeys, the other boys in class who were evenly split between quietly practicing or roughhousing and then back at Equation Boy, who was ignoring the assignment, still muttering to himself and writing. It couldn’t be…

She shook her head. It’s not important. She had not heard anything from Gadril since he dropped her off at the tunnel. It had only been a few weeks since then, but it was the longest she had ever gone without seeing or hearing her mentor since he took over her care after her father died.

I need to know more. She thought of his words from that strange day. His fear and agitation. He talked about the Golden Sphere.

It was her only clue, and now that the school grounds were opened for the academic year, she would be able to go to the library and hopefully learn something more. Something that might help her understand why Gadril was so scared. Why he sent her away, instructing her to hide her identity and her powers.

She needed knowledge, first and foremost.

_______________________

After class, she walked away from the group, heading towards the library.

“Rose!” She heard James call out, and moved faster, pretending she couldn’t hear him. He called out again, but she ducked into the forest, and soon he was too far away to see her. As she was finally alone, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

This school is…tiring.

Rose paused, trying to catch her bearings….

Someone tackled her from behind.

CRASH!

A large heavier frame pushed her into the ground, forcing her face into the dirt. A black gloved hand reached out and snatched her dagger artifact, throwing it far away from them.

“Child of Chaos and Death.” A low voice spoke, filled with spite and hatred. “Now YOU are helpless. Squirming in the dirt like a worm. No chants or artifacts to save you.” He pressed on her neck from behind, cutting off her air. “Now, die!”

Even in the horror and shock of the moment, the pain of the attack, Rose couldn’t help but laugh. Her shoulder shook, but no sound came out, her windpipe slowly being crushed by the pressure.

“DIE!” The man behind her screamed, pushing harder, not realizing the source of her dark amusement.

Because he didn’t know.

He couldn’t have known.

He took away her artifact. He took away her ability to chant.

But she had never needed a conduit for magic.

She WAS the conduit.

The Earth is my Bone.

Her mind spoke silently, feeling the earth beneath her. It began to shake, large cracks began to form in the ground around them. Her assailant jumped, barely maintaining his grip on her head.

The Water is my Blood.

From the cracks water rose, the wave pulling the man off of her. Rose rolled over, catching a glimpse of a masked man, wearing non-descript black clothes. His artifact, a metal glove, had a spider insignia on it.

“The Air is my Breath.”

She whispered, and the wind responded, a hurricane much stronger than her tiny whirlwinds from practice earlier.

The man’s eyes widened. “You are an Apostate?" He tried to run towards her, but sunk into the ground, water surrounding him. "You will bring death to everyone!”

“Strong words for a man who just tried to kill an eighteen year old girl.” She grinned. “Even stronger for a dead man.”

“YOU…” He tried to curse at her, but the air was sucked out of his lungs by the wind storm, his face turned slowly purple as she watched.

“You should have never tried to hurt me. I wish I could spare you. Try to keep you alive at least. Interrogate you.” She looked around. “But I can’t risk anyone discovering what I can do.”

He shook his head violently. But Rose only continued to speak quietly.

“The Fire is my Spirit.”

Golden flames consumed him in a second, leaving nothing but ash.

“I am the Magic.”

She began to close the circuit, and the magic withdrew, healing the cracks in the earth, absorbing the water, calming the wind and extinguishing the flames.

“and the Magic… is me.”

She spoke the final words in a hoarse whisper, close to tears. She had been in fights before. Living in the wrong part of the Capitol, that was only to be expected. But she had never taken a life before.

“You had to.” She muttered, running her hand through her hair. “He was going to kill you. You had to.”

“Rose!” A shout came from far back. She couldn’t tell if it was friend or foe, but she wasn’t about to find out. Blinking back tears, she walked away briskly, heading towards her original destination: the library.

What a great first day in school. Already aced the surviving assassinations part. Can’t wait to see what the second one brings.

She moved quickly towards the library. The sooner she knew more, the better.

It was the only way to survive.   

You are a poor child going to a popular magic school at your mentors insistence, telling you to “broaden your horizon.” But when you get there you realise everyone is doing magic differently to what your mentor taught. They use silly chants and carry big ugly books around.

[dglitservices]

Oracle Cloud Infrastructure vs. Competitors: What Makes It Stand Out?

In the fast-evolving world of cloud computing, choosing the right infrastructure is critical for driving business efficiency, scalability, and innovation. Oracle Cloud Infrastructure (OCI) has emerged as a formidable player in the market, challenging industry giants like Amazon Web Services (AWS), Microsoft Azure, and Google Cloud Platform (GCP). But what sets Oracle Cloud Solutions apart from its competitors? In this article, we take an in-depth look at the unique features, benefits, and real-world applications of OCI that make it a standout choice for enterprises.

1. Superior Performance and Cost Efficiency

One of the key differentiators of Oracle Cloud Solutions is its focus on delivering exceptional performance while maintaining cost efficiency.

Key Advantages:

High Performance: OCI’s high-speed networking and bare-metal instances provide superior processing power, ideal for data-intensive workloads like ERP and financial management.

Transparent Pricing: Oracle offers a straightforward pricing model without hidden fees, making it more cost-effective compared to competitors like AWS and Azure.

Predictable Costs: With consistent pricing across all global regions, businesses can accurately budget for cloud expenses.

Real-World Application:

An e-commerce company using OCI for ERP systems can handle peak traffic efficiently during sales seasons without incurring unexpected costs.

2. Advanced Security Features

Security is a top priority for enterprises migrating to the cloud, and Oracle Cloud Solutions excels in providing robust security measures.

Key Features:

Built-In Security: OCI includes advanced security controls like encryption, firewalls, and identity management as part of its core architecture.

Zero Trust Architecture: Oracle employs a zero trust model, ensuring strict access control and data protection.

Comprehensive Compliance: OCI adheres to global regulatory standards such as GDPR, HIPAA, and SOC.

Real-World Application:

A financial institution migrating sensitive customer data to OCI benefits from robust encryption and compliance with financial regulations, ensuring data integrity and customer trust.

3. Seamless Integration with Oracle Applications

For enterprises already using Oracle’s suite of applications, OCI offers unparalleled integration capabilities.

Key Benefits:

Optimised for Oracle Workloads: OCI is specifically designed to run Oracle’s flagship applications, including Oracle ERP Cloud, Oracle Database, and Oracle Financials, with optimal performance.

Unified Ecosystem: Seamlessly integrate enterprise software with cloud infrastructure for a cohesive IT environment.

Migration Tools: Oracle’s tools simplify the migration of on-premises workloads to the cloud.

Real-World Application:

A manufacturing company running Oracle E-Business Suite on OCI can experience faster performance, reduced latency, and streamlined operations.

4. Innovative Technologies and Automation

Oracle Cloud Infrastructure leverages cutting-edge technologies to enhance efficiency and simplify operations.

Key Innovations:

AI and ML Integration: Built-in AI tools enable predictive analytics, process automation, and personalised user experiences.

Automation: OCI simplifies routine tasks like patch management, backups, and monitoring, reducing manual effort.

Autonomous Database: Oracle’s Autonomous Database automatically optimises performance, scales resources, and applies updates without human intervention.

Real-World Application:

A healthcare organisation uses Oracle’s Autonomous Database to analyse patient data in real time, improving decision-making and patient outcomes.

5. Flexibility and Hybrid Cloud Support

Oracle Cloud Solutions stand out for their flexibility, offering hybrid cloud capabilities to meet diverse business needs.

Key Features:

Hybrid Cloud: OCI supports hybrid environments, allowing businesses to run workloads seamlessly across on-premises and cloud infrastructure.

Multi-Cloud Interoperability: Collaborations with Microsoft Azure enable enterprises to integrate OCI with Azure services, ensuring interoperability.

Customisation: Tailor OCI configurations to match specific workload requirements.

Real-World Application:

An energy company utilising hybrid cloud capabilities can keep critical systems on-premises for security while leveraging OCI for scalability.

6. Sustainability and Green IT Practices

As businesses aim to reduce their carbon footprint, Oracle Cloud Solutions lead the way in sustainability.

Key Advantages:

Energy-Efficient Data Centres: OCI’s infrastructure is designed to minimise energy consumption.

Carbon-Neutral Cloud: Oracle is committed to achieving carbon neutrality by 2025, aligning with global sustainability goals.

Paperless Operations: Digital tools reduce reliance on physical resources, supporting eco-friendly practices.

Real-World Application:

A logistics company adopting OCI can digitise supply chain processes, reducing paper usage and improving environmental sustainability.

7. Global Reach and Reliability

With a network of data centres across the globe, Oracle Cloud Infrastructure ensures reliable and low-latency services.

Key Benefits:

Global Data Centres: Oracle operates in 41 regions worldwide, with plans for further expansion.

High Availability: OCI provides robust disaster recovery and backup options to minimise downtime.

Consistent Performance: Enterprises benefit from fast and reliable services, regardless of location.

Real-World Application:

A multinational corporation uses OCI’s global data centres to deliver seamless services to customers across different continents.

Conclusion

Oracle Cloud Infrastructure stands out among competitors for its performance, security, cost efficiency, and innovative technologies. Whether it’s optimising ERP systems, integrating advanced AI tools, or supporting hybrid cloud strategies, OCI empowers businesses to achieve their digital transformation goals.

Curious about how Oracle Cloud Solutions can revolutionise your business? Let Denova Glosoft Limited help you explore tailored solutions to meet your unique needs. Contact us today to get started!

[jcmarchi]

The Future of AI for Business Infrastructure: Why Private, Bare-Metal Solutions Powered by Apple Silicon Are Ideal for IT Departments

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The Future of AI for Business Infrastructure: Why Private, Bare-Metal Solutions Powered by Apple Silicon Are Ideal for IT Departments

As businesses, particularly small to medium-sized IT departments, look to incorporate AI into their operations, they face a complex and evolving market. While the promises of AI are exciting, the landscape is filled with uncertainties. Public AI chatbots are widely available but raise significant concerns about data sovereignty and security. SaaS providers are rapidly integrating AI, with new solutions for model training, inference, and data processing emerging daily. Amid these options, private, bare-metal infrastructure powered by Apple Silicon offers a compelling alternative to the uncertainties of shared services and public cloud options as well as offering significant power consumption to traditional GPUs.

The Data is Clear, AI in Enterprises is Rising and Apple Silicon is Poised to Lead

A McKinsey report from August 2023, “The State of AI in 2023: Generative AI’s Breakout Year,” reveals that many organizations are still in the early stages of AI integration and management. While 14-30% of survey respondents across industries use generative AI tools regularly, only about 6% claim their organizations are high-performing in AI. Mainstream organizations struggle with strategy, talent and data management, whereas high-performing AI organizations face challenges with models, talent, and scaling.

A key takeaway from the McKinsey report is that a significant portion of the industry seeks guidance on effectively leveraging AI in professional environments. Developing tailored offerings to meet this need can greatly expand market reach. Additionally, the report found that talent is a persistent challenge, with 20% of respondents identifying it as their primary obstacle. Hiring ML/AI engineers and data scientists is particularly difficult, but organizations are finding more success in recruiting general developers. This suggests that instead of establishing a dedicated AI department, a business analyst and a cross-functional IT team could suffice for testing AI strategies and evaluating their potential value.

Addressing the Core Challenges

One of the most pressing challenges is data security. Public AI chatbots make it too easy for employees to inadvertently share company-specific information, potentially leading to data leaks and a loss of control. Many companies are now seeking in-house, private AI solutions to ensure responsible use of these technologies without risking data exposure.

Furthermore, while SaaS AI features can be useful, they often come with hidden contractual complexities. Many solutions use company data to further train models, which can compromise data sovereignty. Even when data isn’t directly used for training, shared infrastructure across multiple customers poses a risk of data mingling and potential leaks. For businesses handling sensitive information, these risks are simply too high.

Additionally, there is a misconception that leveraging AI requires either extensive data science expertise or a significant investment in computing resources. This complexity can be a barrier for smaller IT teams looking to get started with AI.

By opting for private, bare-metal Apple Silicon-powered solutions, businesses can avoid these pitfalls. Apple Silicon’s unified memory architecture and integrated Neural Engine ensure high performance for AI workloads, including inference tasks, without the need for extensive expertise or overspending on hardware. It also offers predictable costs and energy efficiency, allowing businesses to implement AI solutions with more control and confidence in their infrastructure.

Value Proposition and Use Cases of Apple Silicon-Powered AI Infrastructure

Apple Silicon has quietly emerged as a preferred tech stack for running AI systems, as it can be more efficient than dedicated GPU and x86-backed hardware in several key areas. Its exceptional performance for AI inference tasks stems from the innovative unified memory architecture. This architecture allows the GPU, CPU, and memory to access the same memory pool, significantly reducing latency and improving efficiency when handling large datasets—critical for AI workloads. For example, the Mac Studio’s M2 Ultra chip supports up to 192GB of unified memory with 800GB/s bandwidth, making it ideal for running larger datasets and more complex AI models with ease.

Additionally, the integrated 32-core Neural Engine within Apple Silicon is designed for specific AI operations. By offloading complex AI tasks from the CPU and GPU, this engine accelerates inference times, allowing the system to execute workloads faster.

Beyond performance, Apple Silicon is also renowned for its energy efficiency. It delivers sustained high performance without the high power consumption and heat generation typically associated with traditional CPUs and GPUs. This efficiency makes it a cost-effective solution for businesses looking to integrate AI without overwhelming their infrastructure.

Apple Silicon-powered solutions seamlessly integrate into existing business operations, enabling teams to leverage AI without needing extensive technical expertise. These solutions work with open-source communities and leverage Apple’s unique APIs to streamline the integration process, making AI accessible to developers and businesses alike. Whether generating first drafts of documents, analyzing customer trends, or providing real-time customer service via AI-driven chatbots, Apple Silicon’s infrastructure empowers teams to harness the full potential of AI without compromising data security.

Looking to the Road Ahead

As the AI revolution continues to unfold, enterprises must carefully consider their infrastructure choices. Private, bare-metal solutions powered by Apple Silicon address critical concerns around data privacy, cost predictability and performance consistency while providing a secure and reliable environment for AI inference tasks. For businesses looking to navigate the complexities of AI, these solutions offer a compelling and forward-thinking solution.