#It's not exactly that people can't recall what Road looks like. They never fail to recognize them on sight.

[autumnalwalker]

Hi Sage love

Pick one (or a few) ocs and describe a typical outfit. And, of you're feeling fancy, a nicer outfit for some event. Reference photos are optional.

For the Empty Names main cast (sort of spoilers on Road's though after the first two sentences):

Ashan: Default outfit is his wizard robes. White with abstract pearlescent patterns trimming the shoulders and sleeves. Frequently mistaken for a dress. It's also literally the only clothes he owns. In the hypothetical scenario of the group having to attend a formal event that I've given thought to but don't know how to fit into the main story, Sullivan forces him into a tailored suit with the same color scheme and just enough unusual design flourishes to vaguely look like he just walked out of an anime or JRPG.

Sullivan: To pull a line directly from the story: "Embroidered yellow vest over a shirt with puffy sleeves.  Tailored pants.  Shiny shoes that look terrifyingly expensive." He actually has a whole bunch of vests in varying shades of yellow and gold, all with the exact same pattern. A pattern which is inspired by the classic short story "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. The difference between casual and formal outfit for him is really just whether or not he decides to add on a suit jacket to match the pants, and maybe a tie of some variety.

Lacuna: Slightly oversized black dysphoria hoodie, thigh-high "programmer socks," and either an ankle-length black skirt or slightly loose-fitting pants. Fancy event outfit is a dark-colored dress that she either got of the rack or ordered online that she liked the look of and was the tallest fit she could find but still obviously wasn't made with someone 6'3" in mind.

Eris: Depending on the weather, either red tanktop and khaki cargo shorts or red tracksuit. Steel-toed boots with either. Red's not particularly a color she favors for fashion, but it is good for covering up bloodstains when she goes monster hunting, and it's sort of taken over most of her wardrobe just in case something comes up on short notice. Tucked away in a closet, waiting for the rare event that she gets to go somewhere really nice and doesn't expect to get in a fight while there she's got a sleeveless, backless dress of a color somewhere between teal and sea-green.

Road: Has a shapeshifting symbiote/creature/thing that usually defaults to the form of something akin to a purple motorcycle jacket with green accents. If there's a need for formal-wear, combat armor, or just a desire to try out a different look for a bit, the "garment" just changes to match on command, although it always keeps the purple-with-green-accents color scheme. Not even Sullivan knows where they got the thing and Road doesn't seem to remember, but with Road being... ontologically challenged... it has the added benefit of giving others something they can easily remember about their appearance beyond an impression of a warm/comforting/reassuring smile. Of course, that's because the symbiote is its own separate entity so it doesn't get blurred from memory like the rest of Road's clothes or body, and it's still not really Road's appearance that anyone's recalling.

[silvershadow1711]

I was going through my old fics looking for one in particular, and I found another that I had almost forgotten about. It's a Gunter-centric story I never finished that was meant to serve as a prequel for my Fates series, The Road Not Trekked. I wrote it almost 10 years ago (in 2015), before the game was even localized (the majority of my Fates fics were written/started before we got official names, hence why I always called him "Gunther"- I was going off the fan translation of his character bio). I cleaned it up a bit, but... man it's a trip to read my older works.

(And note that this is just the first... chapter? Part? I just wrote without thinking of proper divisions. "Never finished" means "got 18k words into it before realizing no one was ever going to read this". But maybe some of my fellow freaks on tumblr might enjoy it.)

Word count: 4,096

CW: strong language, mentions of violence/child abuse, descriptions of gore

"Let Me Down"

The day was mild by Nohrian standards, a slight chill in the wind signaling an early return to winter. The days were growing shorter, and what little light remained was used to its fullest. Within the training grounds at Castle Krakenburg, cavaliers and heavy armored knights were running drills. The wyvern-mounted dragoons were out training in one of the nearby fields, partially because they needed more space than the courtyard provided them to practice evasive maneuvers, but mostly because everyone was terrified of being caught beneath one of the monstrous creatures when nature called. It happened more often than anyone cared to recall. Of course, many of the soldiers, especially the newer recruits, quickly realized that they would rather deal with the winged, pooping monsters than the one currently barking out orders at them. 

Sir Gunther was a man who showed little emotion, giving off a detached, almost nonchalant air as he walked up and down the rows of soldiers...  which made it even more terrifying when he rounded on one of them, bringing the flat edge of his lance down hard on whatever chink in their armor was closest.  

    “Stop slouching!” He would bark. “If you can't stand straight in your armor, how the hell will you dodge anything in it?” He was like a snake, striking fast and hard when they least expected it as they ran drills, sweeping their feet out from under them, or landing blows on their hands to make them lose grip of their weapon. Despite his impassive face, Gunther was all but screaming with disgusted exasperation in his mind. These were not soldiers, they were fodder. If they couldn't react to an attack in a brightly lit, relatively safe courtyard, how would they fare against the trickery of the Hoshidans? 

It was not the soldiers fault, though. He knew that. Most of these new recruits could barely be considered adults, villagers and street rats desperate to earn a living wage in light of this new depression that was slowly tightening its stranglehold on Nohr. Three years in a row so far the wheat harvest had failed, leaving the farmers destitute, and the people hungry. There was precious little honest work to be found outside of the army, which itself was in disarray after two Hoshidan blitzes had all but decimated their calvary. Gunther had been on the front lines for the last one, when death came from the shadows and rained from the sky. In all the confusion, it was a reasonable estimate that more Nohrians had fallen victim to friendly fire than to the poisoned arrows that fell upon them. Even the soldiers that hadn't fallen on the battlefield began dropping like flies on the way back to the capital, collapsing as they seized violently, blood gushing from their noses and streaking their vomit. 

It was terrifying to realize that this was what their sanctimonious enemy was capable of. Which was exactly why this new group of cadets needed to be trained well, so they would not fall as quickly and painfully as their predecessors. That was easier said than done, of course, for it seemed that farmers who had until recently only wielded pitchforks and hoes did not easily take to smithed weapons. Gunther brought the handle of his lance down hard on the wrists of one of the female cadets that was holding her own as if it were a sword. How many times, how many dozens of times had he shown them the correct form? He glared at her with such fury that she actually whimpered. 

    “By the gods, if you don't learn to properly hold that lance, I will ram it straight up your cunt. That goes for all of you!” He raised his voice so that he could be heard across the courtyard. Some of the older, more battle hardened knights chuckled under their breath as the cadets stood up straighter, collectively pressing their thighs together, male and female alike. As they began running their formation drills yet again, stiffer this time, and each one making damned sure they held their weapon correctly, it seemed that training might have finally started running smoothly, until the courtyard doors flew open and a young, out-of-breath maid dashed in. It was an unusual sight, as the servants rarely strayed beyond the castle walls. Another instructor, a grizzled looking paladin with a broken nose, approached her, frowning.

    “What is the meaning of this? Haven't you been taught better than to interrupt a training session?” The maid braced her hands on her knees, still struggling to catch her breath. She must've run all the way from the main castle. Brushing her short blonde hair from her face, she straightened a little.

    “Begging your pardon, sir... but I've got orders... from the king himself... to fetch Sir Gunther.” The older soldiers exchanged uneasy looks. It was rarely a good thing to be summoned by King Garon. If you were a woman, it meant that you had caught his eye and he undoubtedly wanted to bed you. If you were a man, you had probably committed some transgression and were going to be executed... unless you were sufficiently attractive, in which case, it stood to reason the king wished to bed you as well. The Nohrian sovereign was not a picky man. Despite the tense uncertainty that had permeated the air, Gunther remained calm as ever. As he stepped forward to follow the maid back to the castle, the paladin stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulder.

    “For the gods' sake, man, what did you do?”

    “Your guess is as good as mine. I expect I'll be back shortly. Until then, keep an eye on my cadets. If anyone drops their weapon... break their fingers.” He made sure to say that last part loud enough for everyone to hear him. Just because he wouldn't be there was no reason for anyone to slack off.

Since he had entered the service of the kingdom of Nohr, Gunther had only been in the throne room of castle Krakenburg a handful of times, one of those times being his formal knighting. Unlike those who wished to climb the social ladder and grow closer to the king's inner circle, he was rather grateful for that fact. Everything he hated about Nohr, and House Krakenburg in particular, originated here. Even as he approached the high throne, the older knight felt loathing bubble inside him like pitch. He held his arms behind his back to hide the way his hands unconsciously clenched into fists. He generally did a good job of hiding his hatred, of tamping down all his emotions and giving the illusion that he simply didn't feel feelings, but even he had his limits. 

Stopping at the foot of the throne, he inclined his head. He should have gone down on one knee, but he had made clear long ago that he would not bow to this.... creature. 

    “Sire. My queen,” he added, as Queen Arete sat beside Garon, perched demurely on the edge of the throne. In her low-cut, black brocade, she looked more like a fancy whore than a queen, at least compared to Queen Katerina. The former queen always dressed conservatively, hiding her womanly charms under layers of silk and lace and fur, everything that the smallfolk imagined a queen should look like. But one should not judge a book by its cover, for though Arete looked like one of the many women vying for the king's favor, she was kind-hearted and demure, nothing like the harpies that had taken over the castle. 

And despite her gentle smile, she looked very uncomfortable. It was only natural, of course, given that at least four of her husband's lovers stood around the throne, glaring hate at her. What kind of fool would want to be at the center of such madness, he wondered. 

After a long moment of staring down at the knight standing before him, King Garon lazily raised a hand and snapped, signaling another maid to rush forth. She carried a long coiled length of braided leather in her hands and, as she handed it to Gunther, he realized it was a whip. The sort used to train wyverns. He stared at it for a moment, but made no move to take it, turning back to his sovereign, a bemused inflection in his voice. 

    “Sire?”

    “You are to take that and go to the Northern Citadel.”

    “And...” he glanced back at the whip. “Train wyverns?”

    “Train our little guest.” The king's voice was a venom filled hiss. “It seems she has been causing trouble for the gracious soldiers and servants who have been caring for her.” Gunther frowned, though one could hardly register a change in his usual countenance. This was beyond insulting.

        “You mean to send me to pick up the slack for soldiers who can't contain a small child?” At this, Arete frowned as well, her high arched brows drawing together in consternation as she turned to her husband.

    “What does he mean, 'small child'? You told me you captured some Hoshidan noble.”

        “And so I did,” Garon murmured soothingly, gently running the backs of his fingers over the curve of her cheek. “It's nothing you need concern yourself with, my star...” Judging by the death glares the concubines sent in her direction, Queen Arete had more pressing concerns than foreign diplomacy. As Garon trailed his fingers over his wife's back, he turned a hard glare towards Gunther. 

   “You will hold your tongue and follow orders. I am sick of hearing complaints about that little savage. I don't care if you have to beat her black and blue, just make her behave. As the gods are my witness, if she will not obey, then she will break…!” Perhaps realizing how unseemly it was for a king to get so riled up over a hostage, he settled back into his seat, dismissing Gunther with a wave of his hand. Breathing deeply, Gunther wordlessly took the whip that was still being offered to him and turned on his heel, eager to leave the stifling air of the court behind him.

Were he a younger man, Gunther would have been muttering curses under his breath as he saddled his horse for the journey to the Northern Citadel. It was a good two hours away from the main castle on horseback, and the road (if one could call the rocky, narrow, winding path a "road") leading to it was treacherous if one wasn't sure-footed. The horse he was tacking, a young courser he had named Caractacus, shook his head violently, trying to throw off the bridle. Training a new horse was almost as painful as training new soldiers, but it was a necessity. Just as so many of their troops had fallen in the last attack, so too did many of their mounts, Gunther's old courser, Prometheus, among them. It had been painful to watch, more painful even than seeing his brothers and sisters in arms dying. They knew what they were getting into, but the poor beast, writhing and crying out in fear and agony as the Kougan's venom slowly coursed through it, had been forced into a fight it had no stake in. A familiar scenario...

A sharp nip on the arm quickly brought him out of his self pity. Scowling, the knight reached for the riding crop he kept tied to his sword belt and gave the horse a sharp smack on the haunches, causing it to rear in pained outrage. Gunther sharply pulled on the bridle. Unlike many members of his regiment, he was not afraid of horses. Which was probably why they always stuck him with the most ornery, ill tempered ones. As the steed continued snorting in frustration, he reached for the whip he'd sat beside the saddle, holding it up for the animal to see. 

    “You keep that up and I'll use this on you next.” It was stupid, speaking to a horse as if it could understand what he was saying, but it made him feel slightly better to take his frustration out on someone. 

As he heaved the saddle onto the horse's back, he shook his head bitterly. He knew damn well he wasn't going to lash a horse with that terrifying thing, even a miserable, ill-tempered hell-horse like this one. He would have felt guilty raising the thing against a wyvern, its intended target. Finally tacked up, he effortlessly climbed onto his mount. The sun was already setting. It would be night before he actually reached the Citadel. Fortunately, he knew the way well, having gone there many times over the course of the war. 

What had, centuries ago, probably been an abbey, had been converted into a holding cell of sorts for prisoners of war. Spies that tried to infiltrate the Krakenburg household, merchants caught dealing with both sides, essentially anyone deemed sympathetic to Hoshido. For two long, excruciating weeks, a little over two decades ago, he himself had been a resident of the tower. Eager to never repeat that experience, Gunther had done everything in his power since then to ensure his loyalty to Nohr would never come into question again. Even raising an inhumane whip against a small child, it seemed.

Though the 'Hoshidan Hostage' was well known through the castle, a shining victory against the savages to the east, it seemed that very few had actually seen her. It was said that the girl was a daughter of a prominent family with close ties to the Hoshidan royal family, but Gunther knew that she was actually one of Hoshido's princesses. He hadn't gone to Chevalier with King Garon that day. An assassin had slipped into the castle earlier that week and killed the young Lady Arabella, so he along with a smaller band of soldiers had been ordered to stay behind and double patrols. 

It was just as well, for bringing a large number of soldiers to sign a non-aggression treaty would've seemed suspicious. And who needed soldiers when you could just hire outlaws to ambush your enemies? At least, that was what Garon had bragged to him when the royal caravan returned in joyful triumph. They no longer had to worry about Sumeragi ordering suicidal strikes against them, and his whore queen Mikoto wouldn't dare launch a counter offensive against them when she had to worry that her precious whelp's life would also hang in the balance. Women were so easy to manipulate, the king said, which seemed like a poor jape given that many concubines held more sway over his daily life than he did. 

Gunther didn't pay attention to news from Hoshido, so he had no idea what to expect from this Hoshidan princess. He was fairly certain that the princess was about the same age as Lady Belinda's daughter, Camilla. So that would put her at about six or seven. Dismay formed a painful knot in his stomach at the thought of lashing a small child. But it was a necessary evil, because he couldn't let Garon think that he was anything other than the epitome of the perfect, loyal knight. He had worked too hard, sacrificed too much to throw it all away now. One day, that dastard would lower his guard. He just had to wait until then. 

Desperate to take his mind off the unpleasant task awaiting him, he allowed his gaze to wander over the mountainous landscape. The setting sun had cast a fierce orange glow over everything, making it look as if the peaks were ablaze. Many people in the Nohrian army, especially those hailing from the southern regions or underground capital, found the desolate landscape surrounding the castle to be depressing, but it was quite the comforting sight to Gunther. The gnarled trees and often stormy skies reminded him of his old village, a small territory near the Infinite Chasm, bleak and all but barren. How he had hated the place when he was younger, often dreaming of running away to the city. Now, all he wanted was to go back home.

The fortress itself, much like the castle proper, had been built into a deep crater, the only way in or out being a narrow bridge that was currently being guarded by two sentries. Of course, the very terrain seemed to make additional precautions superfluous. The mountains surrounding the citadel were steep and prone to rock slides. There was nothing but inhospitable wilderness for miles around, and the weather was notorious for changing without a moment's notice. Anyone who managed to escape would undoubtedly die of exposure before reaching civilization. 

Not that it mattered, of course. As far as Gunther knew, all of the other hostages had been executed, with only the princess remaining. The sentries nodded at him as he approached, looking around and trying to suppress the shiver of apprehension that ran up his spine. 

    “Is there anything you need, sir?” One of the guards asked him, respectful and dutifully. 'For you to come back to the castle and teach those milksops how to address their superiors....' He resisted the urge to voice his thoughts aloud.

    “His Majesty has ordered me here to deal with the Hoshidan girl.” The other guard scoffed and muttered under his breath. 

    “Good luck.” Gunther turned a deathly glare towards the man. 

    “What was that, grunt?” The sentry trembled under the piercing stare being directed at him, trying to stammer out a respectful answer.

    “I-I-I'm sorry, s-sir. It's just, w-well, no one else has gotten her to obey yet, and not for lack of trying. She's a nasty little piece of work, and I just...”

    “You just what?”

    “N-nothing, sir! I'm sure you'll have every success.”

    “You're damned right I will...” Gunther muttered as he dismounted, handing the reins to the guard that wasn't a smart aleck. “Water my steed.” Redoubling his grip on the coiled leather, he mentally steeled himself for a moment before heading inside the fortress.

At a glance it was easy to see that, despite the bleak interior, this structure had not been designed as a prison. There were faded tapestries on the walls depicting, not glorious war scenes as were in the castle, but kinder aspects of Nohr's ancient history. The various gifts that dragonkind had given man, knowledge and strength and fortitude. It was those virtues that, above all, were held in high regard in Nohr. Although there was a caste system in place, unlike the rigid rules in the east that dictated that only those born in the higher castes may rise, it was long established that anyone with ability in Nohr could have an opportunity to better themselves. 

Just from looking at the soldiers and maids milling about, it was plain that they were all commoners, and although they did not have much by way of rank, if they could prove themselves on the battlefield, they would make a name for themselves and earn honors for it. But judging by the way they lounged around, starting when they noticed his gaze and, only then, making a show of working, it was clear they had no desire to improve their social standings. Quite frankly, Gunther didn't care. If they didn't want to work, that wasn't his problem. He wasn't going to report them. He was only there to do his own duty and leave as quickly as possible. He approached another soldier, who had suddenly become absorbed in oiling his breastplate.

    “You there. Stop pretending that you're busy.” The young man flinched at being called out, and slowly put his armor down.

    “Sir? Was there something you needed.”

    “I'm to deal with the Hoshidan. Where is she?”

    “She's... in the dungeons.” For what seemed like a full minute, Gunther stood there, waiting for the guard to make some move, but the younger man remained where he was, squirming under his increasingly withering gaze. 

    “I'm sorry,” he began, his voice dripping with wry disdain, “I didn't realize you had so many pressing matters to attend to that I have to search every single cell before I find the one I'm looking for. Take. Me. There.” The soldier flinched and nodded sharply.

    “Of course sir, right away sir!” As he turned, quickly walking towards the directions of the door leading down to the cellar, Gunther could not help but roll his eyes heavenward. The incompetence he was forced to deal with...

The dungeons, settled deep in the belly of the citadel, had once been used to store food, but had been converted gods only knew how long ago into individual cells sealed off with heavy doors. The chill in the air seemed to intensify the further they walked, and it wasn't long until their breath was visible in the low light of the wall mounted torches. Moisture condensed on the walls, trickling down and forming dirty puddles at their feet where large, ragged rats occasionally darted past. The smell of mildew and stagnating water turned his stomach. 

    “Are we almost there?”

    “Just about, sir. The Hoshidan's cell is at the end of this corridor.” Gunther shook his head in exasperation. The corridor seemed to go on forever.

    “Is all this really necessary for one little girl? King Garon surely can't be afraid that she's going to escape?”

    “No, but he's probably scared those byak heathens will send one of their ninjas out here to get her and wanted to make it as hard as possible for them. I hear those sneaky yellow bastards can walk through walls.” He noticed the whip, almost forgotten, in Gunther's hand and nodded at it. “You're gonna use that on her?”

    “Those are my orders.” The soldier grinned widely.

    “Good. It's all that nasty little bitch deserves. I went in there one time to check that she wasn't dead, and the little whore bit me on the leg. I thought it was gonna get infected.” The older knight tsk'd as he brushed past his guide.

    “Taken down by a child in a cell. I weep for Nohr's finest...”

As he continued making his way to the end of the corridor and heard the footsteps behind him receding, Gunther raised the whip to the flickering torch light to take a better look at it. It was hard to see at first, but there were small metal barbs woven into the leather, the same kind of metal used in wyrmslayers. They were meant to break through the tough hide of dragons and draw blood. He wondered what they would do to a small child. Even a reserved lash from something like this could easily flay skin, break bones... 

An image, a vivid recollection, popped into his mind, of a sticky red soup that had once been a small child, pulpy with sinew and brain matter and flecked with slivers of tiny white bones... Twenty years later and he could still see the blood boiling and congealing from the heat of the burning house...

Shaking his head violently to clear it, Gunther let the whip drop to the filthy stone floor as he pressed his palms to his eyes, willing the grisly scenes in his mind to go away. After all these decades, the memories came with less regularity, but they still bubbled to the surface on occasion, making him falter in his orders, giving Garon reason to doubt him. He needed, now more than ever, to forget everything about himself and give himself over completely to his duties. One day, all of his patience and suffering would be rewarded and he would finally have peace, but until that day came, nothing else mattered. 

If he had to kill innocents, then so be it. 

If he had to hurt children... then so be it. 

Stooping, he picked up the now damp whip and took the final steps remaining until the end of the corridor. The latch was closed, but there was no lock on the heavy door. The maids must have thought it too much work to constantly look for the proper keys and forwent the process of locking it entirely. He had to put quite a lot of weight behind the door just to get it to budge, scraping loudly against the floor, its hinges squealing in protest under the weight.

As he slipped inside, he reminded himself again and again that what he was doing wasn't important and that it wouldn't bother him. It was just some byak whore's whelp; what did he care?

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 30

The last chapter for the second arc.

THE ROAD SO FAR

The Man with the Rubber Duck Tie

John Price

Victory Cruise Ship, Port of Dover, UK

"Hey. You!" A patrol guard called making Price, Ghost and Alexandra stop on their tracks. They were already on the narrow and unimaginably squeaky clean hallways of the bottom of the cruise ship.

Price immediately pointed his stun gun, toward the two, nodding as they slowly raised their hands in surrender. His eyes were telling them to follow along and it was great that the two were actually getting his message.

"I caught em Sir, they were trying to sneak into the party." Price reported, his knees bent and stun gun ready to shoot.

"They don't look like party goers. Perhaps spies?" The officer asked Price, slowly approaching the trio, Price looked up at Ghost's fingers twitching. Two. Price knew what it meant. There are two tangos, which meant one was behind him and in one swift move, they could help them escape the situation they're in.

Price quickly tossed his stun gun and did a swift duck as he lifted the officer beside him and slammed it on the ground, Ghost caught the gun and fired it straight at the enemy behind him, sending him into an electric shock. The two fell down unconscious in just five seconds and the three ran up to the main hall.

"Roach? Soap? Alex? Does anyone copy?" Price asked, sounding a bit angry. The ship was already moving and he hoped Gary already had Gold Bar for extraction.

"It's only me now, Price. They got Roach, they're on their way to the east hall, I assume it's to the captain's quarters." Soap panting, his shoes squeaking on the shiny floor.

Alex tried to reply but as the ship moved farther from the dock, the signal was breaking and all they could hear was crackling static.

"Gold bar is still at the VIP Lounge but we don't know who he is. Shadow Company's plan is to prevent anyone from going out of the hall while they find Gold Bar." Soap added shedding light on the actual plan. Price now set their course to the main hall.

Price wasn't great at the Ship's layout, this wasn't in the blueprints. They only wanted to check on the cargo, but they ran, looking cautiously on every corner, hoping to see a staircase that led upward.

Ryder and Ghost were behind him, covering his Six and checking corners as he focused on looking for a way up, on the last turn he finally found what he was looking for.

He climbed straight up to the main hall confidently. He still has his Shadow Company gear and while he's not compromised he could take advantage of it.

"I'm assigned to this staircase, Mate. Go find your own spot." he muttered angrily, almost wanting to push the guard away. It actually worked as the former guard stepped back cautiously and walked away without a fight. Guess he saw it as an opportunity to rest. As soon as the British captain took over the spot, he immediately signaled Ghost and Ryder to move up and blend with the crowd.

"I actually got it." Soap whispered.

"I met a redhead with Roach's rubber ducky tie. He said they swapped ties. Since Roach was caught, that means…" he added.

"Rubber Ducky man is our Gold Bar." Price stated, never in his life would he have realized that that sentence would make sense, but it did.

"Exactly." Soap affirmed. Price now knew who to look for. The man with the Rubber Ducky Tie.

Price signaled Ghost and Ryder to look for Gold Bar. The strobe lights were flashing and it was making him dizzy, he actually had to sit this one out. The younger ones might be able to spot him.

The ship was increasing its speed as soon as it reached the fifteen minute mark. This meant trouble for the team as the faster they went, the farther they were from the dock. It'd be hard to protect a hostage for three hours without an exit.

Price stared at the flashing dance floor, it looked like he was blinking too fast and people inside were teleporting or flashing in and out of the place.

Party goers were being surrounded by the guards, they were being restricted from getting away from the main hall, as some were trying to enjoy the view of the deck.

Five minutes in and Alexandra Ryder emerged from the crowd, dragging along a very drunk man. As soon as he was close enough to vision and away from the strobing lights, Price confirmed the tie. This was their primary target.

"Let's get this one to safety and rescue Roach." Price muttered as Ghost immediately followed behind Alexandra, stepping down to the lower part of the ship where the rooms are.

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Victory Cruise Ship - Captain's Quarters

Roach found himself sitting on a chair, bound and unable to move. A potato sack covered his head, restricting his vision. He doesn't know where he is. But he does recall the last moments before he got there.

He was bouncing to the beat, trying to blend in with the party. He was by the door, cautiously spying on the three musketeers or huge guards as they looked for Gold Bar. Soap's instructions were clear. They're going to get someone they were tracking before the ship leaves.

Roach found it suspicious that they weren't moving an inch, so his guard went up and eyes locked on the richest people near the door.

Two girls, and one guy. Judging from intel, he knew that it was the guy. He was Gold Bar. Bouncing casually, he squeezed his way to his target and tried to talk to him, but as soon as he tried to save him, electric current coursed through his body, sending him to a shock as he dropped unconscious to the ground. His last thoughts were why and was he compromised?

"Gold Eagle. We have Gold Bar." Gary squirmed and tried to break free. He could hear a taser crackle as he attempted to escape.

"Great. I'll start contacting his father. I'm sure he's willing to donate a wealthy sum of money for his son's safety." Gary squirmed once more, this time it was strong enough to tilt the chair, but he was immediately pulled back.

"Let me identify the hostage. Take a picture of him." Shepherd said. If he was here, the team could easily end this man, right here and right now.

Gary's eyes squinted as soon as they pulled the potato sack, the harsh light blinded his eyes and it took moments for him to actually recover.

"This isn't our Gold Bar! He's blonde! It's supposed to be redhead!" He angrily yelled at the speakers. He wasn't here. And Gary had a hunch that Derek was their gold bar.

"But sir, we followed the tracker." One grunt complained.

"What tracker?!"

"I placed one on the target's tie. The event had strobe lights and he was difficult to spot."

Gary realized the chain of events that led to him here. Derek just wanted the rubber ducky tie to get attention and the moment they swapped, all eyes were on him. That's why they didn't move before the countdown.

"Wait a minute. Isn't this… a former 141?" Shepherd mused.

"Sanderson. What are you doing here?" the former general asked. Gary didn't want to answer.

"Partying." he spat. But Shepherd knew it's a lie.

"First you stole Samantha, my bargaining chip and now you're messing up with my gold bar?!"

"Shadow Company. Activate Intruder Protocol!"

he ordered.

Intruder Protocol. Gary had no idea what it meant but as soon as he said it, their shoulder patches started glowing blue.

"Detain everyone without a patch. Take them all as hostages." he ordered.

"As for you, you will walk the plank." Shepherd's angry stare was the last thing Gary saw before the television turned off. Guards started tying him tight and pushed him to the deck. Gary always loved watching Peter Pan as a kid, and it was a shame that his life is in danger the same way as in the movie.

Gary could take these three men pushing him to the deck, provided he wasn't tied up and he had weapons. Any act of violence towards them is an act of foolishness. And he only considers himself a fool for love.

He obediently followed the three musketeers on the way to the dock. Intruder Protocol was in effect as the party stopped and everyone without the glowing beacon was inspected and placed inside the heavily guarded rooms.

He hoped that the rest of his team were successful in securing and extracting Derek out of this mess. But then again, these rich party goers are already sufficient enough to fund the whole nuke project. A win-win for the Shadow Company. If only there was a way to stop them from mugging these people. A grand diversion.

Gary was already near the edge of the ship, the raging dark sea was calling out to him. Despite the life and death situation, all he could worry about is Shepherd's failed plan that still turned out successful. It was frustrating.

One step. The stun baton was turned off but it was being used to push him more. He wanted to buy more time. But it looked like it was the end of the line for him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Victory Cruise Ship - Hull Area, UK

"Shepherd's a wise man. If he can't get what he wants, he'll find another way even if it is risky." Price's words stuck on his head as he ran to the hull. Shepherd's a madman and if a good guy gone bad is capable of doing this, then Nero's far worse.

Clutching the c4 charges, he stealthily maneuvered the hull. Without a beacon glowing on his shoulders, he was a threat to everyone, at least that's what he noticed.

Titanic. They're going to blow up the hull, slowly sinking the ship. He doesn't have to worry about help as Price told him it's already on the way. Whatever that meant, Ghost had no choice but to follow.

The charges were set and he was on his way out, climbing the metal stairs without making a sound.

"Price, charges are set." he muttered to Alexandra, and she relayed it to the Captain.

"He said detonate it now." Ghost carefully paced as far as he could and clicked the remote detonator. A huge explosion followed making the ship tremble a little as alarms started to ring.

Ghost attempted to regroup with Price, but the way to their room was already crowded with the Shadow Company, so he instead ran up to the deck and circled around.

As soon as he got up, he noticed three tall men circling someone and pushing him off the ship. He couldn't mistake it, it was Roach.

He dashed toward the three as he saw Soap dash from the other side. They both pulled the of the tall guards and punched them unconscious but there was still one remaining. And that one grunt happened to push Roach off the ledge.

Ghost tried extending his hand but with Roach's hands tied up tight, all he could do was scream as he fell down to the ocean. Soap knocked the third person out and they were now clear. Ghost wanted to jump and save Roach, but without a rescue boat, it was useless. He remembered that help was on the way and hoped they would rescue him. Roach has to survive. Roach will survive.

"Needing assistance here. They're after us!" Price muttered over comms. Ghost slowly stood up and turned back. He was never going to forgive Shepherd for what he did.

END OF PART 2

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @beemybee @ricinbach @whimsywispsblog

[johnkrrasinski]

ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔰

Chapter 2: Dark Little Paradise 

full masterlist // series masterlist 

Pairings: dark!Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 2,924 

Warnings: sexual themes, kidnapping, stalking, BDSM. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: after the death of your mother, you decided that you were going to do something new to honor her. You chose a perfect camping spot somewhere down South. You thought it was going to be the life-changing vacation that you never had in your life, until Steve Rogers, a man existed in roughness and control all his life, found you.

a/n: here’s chapter two of into the woods folks! hope you like it. and yes, my titles are usually inspired by taylor swift lyrics so, get familiar with that. also, things are going to get more intense in the next chapters, so buckle in and enjoy the ride. please leave a like and comment. thank you for all the positive feedback on the first chapter! 

You retreated to your camp after your miserably failed escapade, later that afternoon. You were debilitated by the incident. You decided to chug down your water and laid yourself on the mattress inside the tent. Taking a brief nap sounds like a good idea right now. You closed your eyes and let the unconsciousness take you away.

A few hours later, you woke up, it was already dark out. You slept longer than you thought. You thought you were only going to rest for 1 to 2 hours, but as it turned out, you the day must've missed you away. Oh, what the hell, you thought. It's not like you were going to pack first thing tomorrow and leave anyway, you still have another day to relish in nature. Considering how early you woke up today and the hours you had spent on the road, you deserved that break.

You decided to grab a package of instant spaghetti you shopped at the gas station's convenience store. You ate with the companion of the sound of the waterfall and your mind started to shuffle its tricks on you again. Mom would've loved this. She also would've reprimanded you for eating 'such unhealthy food.' You chuckled bitterly. But you decided to let the thought of her sink in; it's nice to not feel so alone, even if it's only on your head.

You changed into an oversized, light blue hoodie and a pair of high-waisted sweatpants. You decided to call it a night and turned off the solar light sitting right next to you. You pulled on the duvet and tuck yourself in. Slowly, you waved the night goodbye.

Steve Rogers went back to his cabin later that day after his conducive treasure hunting. His thoughts couldn't stop roaming to her all day, after that. He walked around the house with a painfully hard cock and he was eager to do some seizing tonight. He counted the ticking hours on the clock. He couldn't wait for the day to turn dark.

By midnight, he was ready to return to her camp. He was clad in an all-black gear to meld himself into the obscurity. He put on a black baseball cap and he inserted a bottle of GHB and a handkerchief inside his jeans pocket. Now all he needs to do is visit her.

He was as quiet as a ninja, he stood a few feet away from her tent to ensure that things are in his favor. The light from her tent was switched off and there wasn't a single movement or sound from inside. She was fast asleep, good. Things are going as perfectly as planned.

He neared the tent and he kept his steps mute. He zipped down the tent's opening and there she was. Sleeping as soundly as a baby. Her face was half-tucked into the quilt but he could see the shadow of her features, illuminated by the faint radiance of the moon. She was even more stunning up close. He grew more impatient to bring her home.

He crawled inside, cautious to not wake her up. The tent couldn't contain his height so it was an awkward posture for him but he managed. She was still deep asleep despite his presence. She was really fatigued and it amused him.

He longingly gazed down at her beauty for a second, he didn't have much time, but he was absolutely starstruck by her. He squatted to pull out the bottle of GHB and handkerchief in his pocket. He poured a drop of GHB just enough to get the job done. Without any more delays, he pressed the cloth into her nose, and his other hand shoved the back of her head to keep her in place. In a matter of seconds, her eyes were wide awake.

She tried to scream, she was in a tightened state and her hands that were tucked under her the pillow, immediately went to pull his hands away but couldn't. She tried to wiggle her body rapidly to get out of his hold, but he overpowered her. He didn't even have to try to tame her down but she was drowsing fast.

She was paralyzed in his hands. The ethereal figure was now immobile. It's time to go home.

You woke up on a silk-covered mattress, the material was cold under your touch, you felt groggy like the room was spinning and you couldn't grasp on anything. There was a single bulb in the center of the ceiling, illumining the room but it was dimmed. After you collected yourself together and fluttering your eyes open, you attempted to sit up, only to realize that your hands were handcuffed to the bedpost, you were disoriented. What the hell is happening?

You tried to recall the last 24 hours. You wandered around the woods, you scuffed your thigh and retreated to your tent. Did you have dinner? Pretty sure you could remember consuming pasta, and then, what came next? Did you go to bed? Yes, you were certain that you called it a night and rested. But how did you wind up here? Where exactly is here? You began to feel agitated, you looked down only to realize that you had been stripped out of your clothes and underwear. You were plain nude and your legs were cuffed to the bedpost too.

You took a look at your surroundings, it looked more like a Roman fort. The walls were constructed on dark, burnt brown-colored logs. There were whips, chains, paddles, ropes, and all kinds of leather dangling across the wall, you saw a wooden pillory and other types of grotesque contraption you had never seen in your life.

You slightly turned your head to the right corner and you saw Parquet-tiled stairs that led you to God knows where. You could only count the first few bottom treads in the opaque of the room. Something about that staircase gave you the creeps. It was the conundrum of it. Like the haunting feeling of knowing something was lurking on the other side, but you weren't sure if you were ready to find out.

On the right corner of the room, you spotted a rustic oak handmade table, filled with what looked like miniaturized trinkets with various, intricate shapes, from the distance your eyesight could capture, some looked longer than the others, some modeled the shape of an egg, some others took the shape of a stick...? You couldn't paint yourself a clear description. There were too many foreign things that bewildered your hazy brain.

Shivers ran down your spine. You tried to scream for help, but your words were muzzled. You hadn't noticed the ball gag around your mouth. Your jaw was tense and you cried out but nothing was uttered. You lifted your head as high as you can go only to wiggle out of the bindings. Your wrist reddened due to your failed attempts of trying to release your hands out of them.

Your head fell back onto the pillow and caved in. Tears began brimming in your eyes. You were petrified and disoriented. Where the hell were you? Did someone kidnap you? But who would? You were absolutely positive that you were alone in the woods. No traces of any other human being might be lurking in the shadows or followed you here.

So... How exactly did you get here? Your mind was disarrayed. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't realize the sound of the approaching footsteps. You were awakened from your thoughts when the door was clanged opened and it reverberated upon the walls.

You cowered in terror. You thought this was it. The moment where whoever this person was behind that door, was going to torture you and after he was satisfied with his torment, he was going to murder you and discard your body somewhere people can't find you. You were going to vanish from the face of the earth forever. At least you were going to reunite with your mother, the idea emerged uninvited.

Your fallacious thoughts were quickly shaken away by the sight of a tall, muscular man standing in front of you. The lower part of his face was covered in a thick, perfectly trimmed beard. His hands were rigid on his either side. His electric blue eyes stared down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. The silence lingered around the room, for none of you had said a single word to fill in the void.

For what felt like minutes, both of you just froze in a staring contest. Obviously you weren't going to be the one to speak up first, you couldn't even if you wanted to. You were too appalled by this stranger, who looks like he could tear you apart by a single hand before you. He bent slightly forward and dropped his hands so that it was grasping the footboard top rail.

He was clad in a navy blue shirt and plaid shirt as an outer. His expression shifted from indecipherable to a smirk. The hell? Did this really just smirked at you? It was heinous. His gaze was as intense as the devil. His gravel voice echoed, "relax. I'm not gonna hurt you."

That didn't enlighten your mood. You were even more terrified than before. So what did he want? Why were you here? Where exactly are you? So many questions yet so little options.

He moved to the end of the bed where he sat by your foot. His gaze didn't quiver nor did the tension in the air. You flinched as if you were unrestrained. If anything, it only clanged the cuffs that shackled your wrists and your legs.  

You felt utterly exposed and uncomfortable. You've never been nude in front of anyone, let alone a strange man. He shamelessly drifted his eyes from yours to the length of your body. Your bare chest and your displayed pussy weren't left uninspected.

He spoke up again, "you are even more divine up-close." He moved onto the bed and caged you with his body. His hands were on either side of your head and his knees were on either side of your hips. You felt so small under his presence. The shadow loomed over his face and it made him even more intimidating.

"I know you're scared. But I can assure you that it's going to be alright. I'll take care of you." He consoled as if he was pacifying a child who just ran in horror because she had a bad dream.

He leaned down to press a kiss on your upper lip, and you jerked away. You turned your head to the left side to dodge his kiss. It upsets him and he grabbed your jaw to hold you in place so he could steal that kiss. You shrieked in disgust, hoping that it was loud enough to give him the signal. You didn't like it, you wanted to be released from the gagged. You wanted him to let you go.

As if he could read your mind, he spoke up, "alright, I'm going to take this gag off for now, but you have to promise me that you won't scream, understood?"

You didn't give away any reaction, you just stared at him in fear. You heard his words loud and clear but you refused to acknowledge him, under any circumstances. He asked you for the second time with a much firmer tone, as he glared into your eyes; "understood?"

Your only response was nodding. "Good girl. We've got a lot more to work on, but I know I can mold you into my perfect little plaything."

His world left you in utter shock. Perfect little plaything? What the hell was this man planning to do with you? Did you ever cross paths with him and perhaps wronged him? Most importantly, did you just make the biggest mistake in your life and basically handed yourself over to death by coming to these woods?

He untied the straps of the ball gag. You were able to breathe a little easier now. You wished to scream, but you weren't stupid enough to do the exact one thing this man just warned you not to. You weren't sure whether anyone could hear you anyway, the solid clapboard walls were bulky enough to deter any noises out.

You stared around the room once more, to make sure that you were living in reality instead of a terrible dream. You tried to look anywhere else but him, fearing his murderous eyes that saw right through you. That trapped your soul by a single glance.

"Speak, before I put this gag back on."

He's already thinking of putting the gag back on already?! You felt defenseless. You couldn't fight back or entreated this man to stop doing what he already made up in his mind.

"Wh- where am I...?"

"The same woods where you camped."

"It- it's not exactly like I remember..."

"Don't worry, you are safe with me. You don't have to worry about your old life anymore now."

"Wh- who are you?"

"Steve Rogers. But, you may call me sir, at certain times." His lips formed a smirk. There was a hint of lust in his eyes when he said those last three words.

"Why am I here...?"

"I saw you wandering around the woods, all alone. I immediately knew that you were the one I had been looking for. So I took you."

"Took me?"

"Yes. You are here, aren't you?"

The lightheadedness that you felt minutes ago came back. You were having a hard time processing all this information, coming from a strange man who claimed he wanted you.

"This is... This is crazy, I need to- I need to go home."

"Shh, hey, hey, it's alright. I know you are scared and confused, but I promise you, I'm not going to hurt you as long as you listen to me and do as I say."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Simple. All you have to do is just surrender to me and follow my orders. We will both receive pleasure if you choose to make it easy for yourself."

"And... What if I don't want to?"

He paused for a moment. "Then there will be punishment."

You gulped. You really had no way out and there was no way that you could overpower or trick this man into releasing you.

"Can you please untie me?"

"No, not now. You will gain a reward if you obey, we are going to go through every training and tests, and if you succeed in passing them, then you will earn your freedom."

"You mean... You will let me go?"

He chuckled darkly, he didn't have to say it, but the words were clear in his eyes "silly girl, you really think I'd ever release you?"

"No, sweetheart." He paused. His face inched to yours as he shifted in his seat. His body that was facing the wall instead of solemnly towards you, was imparting full attention on you now. The message in his eyes were clear; "listen to me carefully, little girl. For I will not repeat myself for the second time."

Then his lips manifested the words; "every night, I will tie you to this bed, and if you pass the test of the day, then I will unleash a part of you. if you don't, then, you're going to have to endure sleeping in the dark bound, until I see an improvement. When you have succeeded in becoming my perfect little doll, then we can start discussing you moving upstairs and your limits."

"Limits of what...?"

"Freedom. About you going outside, moving around the house, and other things."

"What kind of doll you want me to be?"

"My fuck doll."

His answer left you dumbfounded. You were overwhelmed by everything that had befallen on you. You were still vulnerable from your mother's death, and now the vacation that you thought was going to transform you into a stronger woman, conversely ambushed you at your weakest spot and delivered you at the feet of the devil himself.

You started crying for God knows how many times now. He tried to pacify you once more, "shh, it's okay, babygirl. Let's not inundate ourselves with too many questions, yeah? Tomorrow, we will start our training. It's late, you should get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day."

You saw the darkness in his dilated pupils when he stated the last sentence. Also, you didn't even realize that it was already late. There wasn't a single clock in sight, nor was there a single window that would apprise you the current juncture of the world. You couldn't tell whether it had been an hour, three days, or perhaps a week since you had been here.

Without uttering any more word, he lifted your head mindlessly and strapped the gag back on. He rose from the bed and left you in the exact same state that you were in when you woke up. He walked away to the door of where he came from. He took at one last glance at you before his steps took him out of your peripheral.

"Goodnight." He turned off the single light bulb that radiated through the center room. Then he was gone. You closed your eyes, hoping when the morning greets you, you would wake up from this God-awful lifelike nightmare.

[silverloreleysfanfics]

WIP part 9

Merry Christmas @26ja! This my present to you this jolly season (well, it’s supposed to be a jolly season, but this year is what it is...). I hope you’ll like it.

It’s two snippets. The first is with Tarabas and Romualdo, the second is about Smeralda.

1)

It wasn't the first time Tarabas and Romualdo ended up prisoners in a new place they visited. It wasn't new that it happened only because they carried weapons either - the High Prophethess of Diltani was every bit of a scaredy cat and there was an accident with the Pharsian itinerant court too... - so they weren't overly worried about that. Time wasn't on their side, though. With the anxiety for the kids's fate and not knowing to which point they could trust their travelling companions, saying the duo was a little antsy was an understatement. «Any idea how to get out of here?» Romualdo asked from his suspended cage up on the ceiling of a sturdy-looking building. The king estimated the place they were in had to be more ancient than the rest of the town, the architecture didn't match after all, except for the ceiling, and had it been another moment he might have mentioned that too, but in the current predicament... «I'm trying» was the reply from the other, who had his eyes closed and a hand outstretched towards the keys, several meters under them. «What happened to "no more magic"?» «With the children involved, this is not my top priority» Tarabas muttered. Romualdo rose a brow «You don't have to. We'll find a way out of it even without that» «Not like I have any choice. This strange land's metal doesn't obey me» the former wizard slumped to the bottom of the cell «Either that, or those cages are magic inhibitors» The two stood in silence for a few moments, thinking what they could to. «This brings back memories» Tarabas tilted his head «The expedition in Ozmandya?» Romuald shrugged «I was thinking of Maideur, but that too» «Right. How did we come out of that again?» «Parsel. Maideur is one of the isles of his kingdom and he vouched for us» Romualdo recalled. «What about how we escaped in Ozmandya?» «We're not repeating that, Tarabas. I almost broke my legs to do that» «Almost» the other precised, as if breaking a leg was nothing noteworthy. Maybe it wasn't for him, since he benefited of the accelerated healing of his fae blood, which wasn't the case for Romualdo and his human frailty, not to mention the number age and prolonged efforts did to his body. «And we don't have Silurus here» he added, mindful of how in that specific case it had been thanks to the huge magical catfish the White Witch had sent thir way, that they got out that situation unscathed. «So what? We wait for those people to free us? We don't even know them» «I do. Didn't I tell you I lived for some time in the Auburn Lands? It was before my father died and I had to come back to take his place» Romualdo recalled. «And?» «Greer is the younger sister of the duke of the Auburn Lands, who was my friend back then. When I lived there she was ten or so and was already a spitfire with the fame of never leaving any of her playmates behind, no matter what mess they put themselves in. If she's still anything like that, and from the stories I heard of her she is, she won't leave us here» After a moment of silence, Tarabas switched position to get a better look at the room underneath. «I'm still going to look for a way out on our own» «So am I. But I believe you're looking the wrong way» At Tarabas' interrogative side-eye, Romualdo pointed at the ceiling. «Oh» «My thoughts exactly» They both grinned.

2)

Two years had passed already since Fantaghirò disappeared. I braved my pain in silence, everybody was suffering, I couldn't give them more worries. But... Caterina and Carolina were busy, with Evaldo and Sabina and Rinaldo, other than with the kingdom. I took care of him too, of my adoptive brother, while the adults were out, looking for her. I studied, learned to read and perfect my aim with my slingshot, then learned how to use a bow and even started to practice with knives. I always had a good aim. For the first year, Romualdo barely spoke with me, always so hurt, always so desperate and despairing in his search, but he looked almost happy... that's a stretch, more like almost proud when he was told of my results. He needed more time to become more like a father to me. Tarabas showed up only to help, then he had to leave too, to try more or to reach others he loved. Sometimes they came with him, a few times he took me with him to them. The only bits of solace, moving to a place sadness had not contaminated for good. At the castle I was alone. So alone. It was as if I wasn't even there, at times. «Everyone I love disappears» I sobbed, hiding away in a secluded corner of the forest. What forest? I don't remember. My pain I ignored so long for the sake of others, to look strong when the adults who took me in expected me too, now it was too much, I felt like I was exploding, especially so after the last failed attempt. «Why? It's me? I bring misfortune? Maybe I should be the one to disappear...» And I did. I did, at last. «Shh, Smeralda, no, don't say such things» Cold but soft arms wrapped around me, a gentle hand carded through my hair. I knew this voice, knew those hands. «It's not your fault» My still small hands grabbed back, tightened on pale fabric, tears still stinging in my eyes. I couldn't see, but I knew who was there. «She never came back. She never will. My parents too...» «I understand what you're feeling» «No, you can't» I rebelled, but I didn't pull away. She didn't have the same warmth as Fantaghirò, but her embrace was just as reassuring and I missed that so much. The embrace of a mother. «My parents died too, Smeralda, when I wasn't much older than you. They were looking for a way to help me. And I felt it was my fault for the longest time» I sniffled and looked up at her crystal blue eyes. «But you see, what happened to me had a meaning we didn't understand at the time. Everything happens for a reason, the roads we take lead us to where and who we're supposed to be. Cry, if you need it, but then get up again. We'll figure it out. You're not alone» Smeralda woke up abruptly. She knew well why she relived that memory. "Cry, if you need it, but then get up again. We'll figure it out. You're not alone" She curled more on herself, face hidden in white feathers. No, she wasn't alone, and even if she was, she was going to find a way out.

Soo, I hope you liked those little snippets, the last one I wrote very recently as a part more enigmatic on what’s going on for the kidnapped people. I am also thinking of starting to post the fic as a proper long in my Ao3 account since I finalized the first two or three chapters and I’ll send you the link when I do.

In the meantime, Merry Christmas and... just tell me whatever you think of it! xxx

[wandabherrera]

Ten Advantages of Ballroom Dance: How They Add Energy, Enlightenment And Enjoyment Into Your Life!

The most magnificent thing about traditional dancing is that everybody can do it.

Traditional dancing doesn't segregate by age, sexual orientation or ethnicity; it greets all wholeheartedly.

At the point when finished with the legitimate disposition partner dancing will add energy, illumination and happiness into your life. It will likewise give you 10 benefits that will additionally upgrade your life and take you and your life higher than ever.

However, before I give you those 10 benefits, it is imperative to realize that

couples dancing began, thinking back to the eighteenth century and develops more famous by each spending day.

Regularly more than 100,000 individuals partake in traditional Dance- around the world. These artists range in ages from 3 to long term olds at schools like World DanceSport Cebu to 99 year old Tao Porchon Lynch who moved at an occasion in Mumbai in 2017.

In 2014 traditional dancing was at that point a 2.1 BILLION dollar a year industry. Furthermore, with the advancement of shows like Dancing WithThe Stars, that number has been soaring ordinary

So on the off chance that you have at any point needed to formal dance (and you realize you do) however have figured I can't do that, or I would look senseless, or nobody would need to hit the dance floor with me. I'm here to disclose to you that those musings are just false.

The formal dancing local area is one of warmth and is here to energize and uphold you.

Also, on the off chance that you have been moving for some time, you realize that daily without dance resembles a day without daylight

So here are the main ten benefits you acquire when you get out there and couples dance.

#1: Builds Your Confidence

The greater part of us have heard our moms or instructors advise us "Sit up" or "hold your head up".

Learning Ballroom moving gives you moving abilities as well as constructs your certainty both on the dance floor and off the floor. You figure out how to hold your dance-outline by holding your head up, back straight, arms at the correct level and your rib confine held perfectly.

This will cause you look taller and you to feel lighter which causes you to feel better. Something basic like having a positive outlook on yourself opens up an entirely different you.

You will skim around the floor like you are large and in charge and you would prefer not to descend. This inclination will cover in any event, when you are strolling down the road.

Kids love it when they feel taller and feel like they can fly. They are additionally veracious students and can construct their certainty quicker than grown-ups. They are not terrified of committing errors and never tire of rehashing a dance move a few times to take care of business.

As my dance teacher regularly says, "My companions continue to advise me to unwind, however I advise them, I am loose, I simply have great stance".

Well that is certainty!

#2: Leading Your Partner

Just as holding their edge men figure out how to lead and furthermore how to request that women dance. Men will disclose to you this is definitely not a simple accomplishment (no quip expected ) in addition to the fact that they have to dominate the dance steps, tune in to the music beats, however they likewise need to sort out where they need to proceed to lead an accomplice who chases after them. By figuring out how to lead their dance accomplices they will disclose to you they figure out how to lead their companions and they love it, their children and their associates!

Also, Following Your Partner

My teacher will reveal to you that autonomous women are difficult to instruct how to follow. I know this direct on the grounds that I am one of them. Women need to figure out how to follow their accomplices regardless of whether the accomplice is committing an error. In moving you figure out how to confide in your accomplice and tune in to your accomplice. Just in moving you don't just utilize your ears to tune in, you tune in with your whole body. In the event that you don't trust and tune in to your accomplice to lead you, miss a stage can occur. On the off chance that this does you will wind up tumbling to the floor and taking your collaborate with you.

#3: Improves Physical and Mental Health

Social moving furnishes the body with numerous medical advantages and partner dancing is the same. Moving is extracting your body and this decreases pressure, builds energy, assists with conditioning your muscles and increment versatility and adaptability.

Moving requires accuracy to execute the dance figures and dance steps moving; this aides your brain and muscle in co-appointment and equilibrium.

Focusing on the non-verbal communication of your accomplice instructs you to remain on track and focus on detail constructing and expanding mental ability.

#4: Expands Music Listening

We as a whole grow up tuning in to music and we as a whole can say I love that music. In moving you gain proficiency with an alternate sort of "tuning in to music" and I consider it the "Music Listening Class"

At the point when the Music begins these are a portion of the inquiries a Ballroom artist needs to reply:

1. What dance is that?

2. Which is the dance beat?

3. What is the beat?

4. What is the circumstance?

5. What is the mood

For each dance these inquiries will have an answer that is novel to that dance and to your moving level.

#5 Invites Competition and Perforce Show Cases

Most Dance Studios urge their understudies to perform and contend. It gives their understudies inspiration to improve their moving and take it to various level. For a portion of the understudies they will likely contend and there are dynamic serious circuits from novice level to proficient level. Different understudies can perform show cases on subjects they like or their #1 moves. In the two cases moves are Choreographed following the couples dancing rules.

By continually needing to improve your dance, it introduces a specific outlook in your life that you will consistently need to do your absolute best!

#6: Your Friends and Family will be Interested and Impressed

Let it be known, a great many people love being the focal point of consideration and that is something worth being thankful for.

Individuals are astonished, intrigued and dazzled, - when you reveal to them that you will class to figure out how to move particularly when you are full grown or a grandma like me. Yet, exactly when, until you welcome them to one of your exhibitions and they watch you skim on the floor! They will ask "How would you do that? How would you realize when to turn?" "I didn't have any acquaintance with you could do lifts very much like hitting the dance floor with the Stars"

These inquiries are extremely valuable to a novice artist or a social artist. You will adore it!

#7: Provides a Sense of Accomplishment

Be set up to snicker at your slip-ups just as gain from them. Figuring out how to move assembly hall resembles figuring out how to stroll with the exception of you have failed to remember how often you fell as an infant to really figure out how to walk.

You must be set up to fall as commonly however this time you have a name for it "botches". Yet, in the event that you will probably figure out how to move you will rehash and address those slip-ups and feel satisfied like a kid when you take care of business. This will give you a colossal feeling of achievement.

Furthermore, by snickering at your mix-ups you will deliver a serotonin, causing you to feel youthful and cheerful!

#8: You Can Dance Anywhere in the World

Traditional dancing is famous in each side of the World. A few nations are more effectively associated with moving than others. In certain nations formal dancing is a strength however you can make certain to discover a lobby or a dance studio some place.

You likewise don't need to comprehend the expressions of the tune simply the Music. My first show case was on unknown dialect tune yet the beats of the music were ideal for the story that I needed to tell. That was six years prior and I have not tried to discover what the expressions of the melody implied in light of the fact that I conveyed my own message in dance.

#9 You Get to Dress Up and Glamor Out

In a World where wearing pants has been acknowledged as the standard having motivation to spruce up is an invite fascination. Ladies' dance hall dress has developed also. The men actually will wear tails yet their method of dress has developed. In any case, the planning makes it commendable while. The shopping, the fitting and sorting out the best dress for each dance is empowering.

Additionally you will be innovative and choose what you need. This assists you with standing apart significantly more. All that energy lifts you up and takes you to a superior spot, a position of prosperity.

#10: You meet People

Partner dancing draws in a wide range of individuals from various different backgrounds. They will probably loosen up from their bustling lives and have a good time doing it. Whatever the degree of moving you accomplish you will have a good time. From the fledglings taking to the floor interestingly, frequently with a frightened look all over, through to prepared experts. Formal dancing dependable guideline is "You can't say No when requested to move" so regardless of whether you are unfamiliar to it and somebody requests that you dance say "Yes" (Women do request that men dance as well). The individual requesting that you dance will move to your level. Recall everybody began from that initial step.

End

These are my most significant reasons and benefits of why I love to move and now there is something in particular about them in my Soul...

Guardians go through the Good, the Bad and the Ugly stages entwined in the well meaning goals of raising our youngsters in an ideal manner. These stages are interesting to every youngster and they train the parent about an entirely different World that they had no clue existed.

I have painted a painting of affection in my heart, for every one of my children, from what I have realized and the features are the Good stages.

These ten dance benefits are drawn from the "Adoration for my Son Mural". A piece of the wall painting that I painted when I attempted to make my child's big day, the most exceptional day of his life.

That little piece opened a window to my spirit. It's the window into World of Dance that I didn't know existed. Figuring out how to utilize portions of my body (the greater part of which I didn't know exist either) in an alternate way, easily figuring different people groups non-verbal communication out both by looking and tuning in to their muscle tone.