#Ambrose suffers at the hands of Moon once again

[emoryinasketchbook]

Little shit jester man/affectionate

#Ambrose suffers at the hands of Moon once again #i feel like moons flying is underused- #hes horrifying #fnaf #fnaf sb #fnaf daycare attendant #moondrop #fnaf moondrop #fnaf moon #how do i tag this fucker

[small-sinclair]

Forgiveness is the Hardest Part

This is a warm up for another writing prompt.

Another idea based off this post by @sketchy-rosewitch. I thought about it and went through it over the phone with my sister (she doesn't know what HoW is, but she likes that I'm finally writing again :3). Anyways, enjoy this angsty one.

Maybe there's a part 2 or something? Let me know!

Bo x male!Oc (Anthony)

Tw: mentions of deaths and murders, character injury, gun, near death oc, religious themes mention, blood, mention of past tortures/abuse, hints of homophobia, not proofread

The soft pinks that light the dusk sky lowered to a deep purple, fading into the night's heat in Louisiana. The clouds from the day left to give onlookers a clear night's view, and the full moon shined its light below to guide a path through the dense forest road leading back to Ambrose. Lester's truck jumped back and forth as he drove with the passenger next to him, who was clenching a small black backpack.

His white collar under the black folds of his shirt shined like a stars in the sky that night. His dark brown hair was tucked under a Green Bay Packer's ball cap, worn from work and faded by the sun. His heavy green eyes were tired from tonight's events that left him at the mercy of a stranger, and his head pounded as if he was by the loudest speaker. His left leg broken and bruised, but he didn't seem to wince at his pains as he held his mother's rosary between his fingers. He was the youngest clergy server in his group strong and built well enough to lift two spare tires with ease, and he's the only one that was... tainted. Maybe that's the men did all those things? Tortured him by burning his arms and back, cutting too deep into his legs until he couldn't walk, kept punching him until stars was seen in the sunlight.

His God suffered, so he has too as well. That's how sinners are forgiven--that have to suffer to find the light once more before relaxing in the waters in the spring.

"'Bout there," Lester reassured again. "Bo'll fix ya righ' up, Father."

"Please, Lester," the pastor looked over at Lester, trying to meet his brown eyes, "call me Anthony. Ain't a Father yet."

Lester tapped nervously at the wheel as they came closer to the town's lights and the soft music from the speakers above the streetlamps. He didn't feel comfortable bringing a man of faith to this place to die. Talk about leading the lamb to the slaughter, huh? Still, Lester forced a caring smile. "'S a nice name, Anthony."

Anthony leaned his head against the glass, silently sending a prayer of blessings for Lester and his kindness. If he didn't show up when he did to haul off the roadkill deer, Anthony might've been through worse. He closed his eyes, praying Lester would have carefree days with ease and to have thanks for his service of deposing God's creatures. He rested his hand on the seat, praying over his truck for safe travels and for it to take Lester miles away from here.

When he was finished, he felt the truck die and Lester getting out. Anthony opened the door and helped himself out, Lester joining his side to help support him to get inside the little gas station. The gas station looked like it was stuck in time as if it was still the 1950s, but he loved it! He loved the orange and blue lights and the little "Gas" sign over the pumps; he felt like he stepped into a slice of heaven. Inside the station, it smelled like rust and oil, a smell he knew all too well from his childhood thorough working in his dad's shop.

He groaned as Lester sat him down in the black chair by the door, and Lester hurried around the counter. "Le' me go see if he's still 're."

"Take your time," Anthony said through a painful smile, trying to stay as polite as he could. "I got all night."

Lester gave one last look behind him before going into the back. Of course, Bo would be down stairs in his... what the hell should Lester call it? Sex dungeon? Prison? Chamber of Torture and Pleasure? All he knows is he hates going down there to see if Bo is there with a "pretty little thing". He knocked on the closed door before entering, almost regretting his choice. He turned his head away at the smell of fresh blood and Bo's spice, but he was glad to see no dead girl strapped to the chair like the last time.

Bo was at the chair, cleaning it with bleach and vinegar. He looked up at Lester and raised a brow. "The hell's matter with ya?" He snapped, throwing the rag down. "You know betta than ta be down here!"

Lester flinched at his voice. "Bo, we have another one--"

"Good," Bo said, wiping his hands on his blue jeans. "Still in the mood fer some killin'."

"Not this one."

Oh... this is new.

Bo stepped over his cleaning supplies and towered over Lester. "The hell do ya mean?" He tilted his head as his eyes stated dangerously calm.

"There's a hurt pastor upstairs," Lester stated. "And I don't want ya to kill 'im."

Bo's hands gripped Lester's faded red jacket as he shoved his brother against the wall. "Tellin' me wha' to do? Because the last I checked, ya don't kill people, yellow belly."

Lester's face harden but his eyes fell. He knew he couldn't stop a storm or a tornado, but he was hoping to to tray and calm this one. "Fine," his voice was low and sad, "but make it quick? Don't want 'im to suffer more than he 'lready has."

Before Bo could ask what he meant, the sound of tires pulling overhead outside made them look up through the drain above. They stayed silent as they heard car doors slam, men laughing and howling when they see something--or someone-- they've been hunting. Lester's hands pushed his brother back and led the way upstairs, Bo, who was still confused as all hell, went up after him.

Pastors don't fight, unless you're Father Quintin, who kicked Bo's ass when he was caught stealing from the alter plate when he was a teenager. So, why did it shock him to see two men drawing a man with a broken black collar towards the street? Why did his stomach hurt when he heard one of the four men hitting the other's eye, bruising it raw until blood flowed from the brow? Why did his eye twitch in anger when one pulled a knife to stab the other? Why did it feel so right to run back into the garage and take the shotgun off the wall, taking off the safety, and rushing out to join his brother--

Anger boiled heat as his blood ran cold when he saw Lester on the gravel. Blood trickled down his forehead as a one of them men stood over him with a blooded, hardback Bible in hand. Lester lifted his head to meet Bo's bright blues before his head laid down, his body doing limp in a snap...

Then there was a flash to something from before. The sight of the bloodied Bible corner and his little brother on the ground took him back to the time when his father was drunk, and he tried to "beat the devil" out of his little brother. He felt like he was reliving a frozen moment in his life, but the only difference between that helpless boy and now was that Bo has a fully loaded shotgun.

"Hey!" Bo's voice was hard as he got the man's attention. Without warning, he shout the Father between the eyes. God, that felt good.

The gunshot rung throughout the silent town, making three men look towards Bo and their fallen friend. Bo grinned wickedly as he pumped the shotgun back in action, pointing it at the man who was hitting the other. Forgiveness won't come easily after this, Bo knows this, but he was far from holy light. He was bathed in the muddy waters of the swampland and blessed by led and iron.

In a hurry, they dropped their "friend" and ran off in different directions. Bo raised his gun and shot the back of one and missed the other two, but they'll do. They were heading right towards Vincent's hellscape. He hoped that it was hell on earth for the holiest of folks.

Bo unloaded the gun as he walked over to the bleeding pastor.

He was clinching his rosary tightly as Bo's shadow crossed over him like an angel's shadow over a fallen devil. The click of his gun made the stabbed pastor jolt and he lifted his head, but Bo didn't find his eyes to be fearful or horrified of him. Bo's stomach emptied as he watched the man struggle to his knees, black shirt ripped at the sleeves, and he sat on the back of his legs. Glazed eyes looked up at him, right at him, as a river of blood flowed from his lips and nose. The white under his black collar stained from dirt and bloodshed by his own brother, and it made his chest swell in hurt and butterflies.

He looked like Saint Sebastian. the one with arrows littering his body but still alive.

"You... you Bo?" The man breathed out, tired and hurt. "'M Anthony." Why did the lights hurt his eyes? Where was the fog coming from? "Les-Lester talked of... of you?" Anthony's eyes rolled back as his body fell to the side. He readied himself to hit his head, but rough, callous hands caught him, and he was rested against the warmth of someone's thigh.

His eyes parted to see the most beautiful angel in blue mechanic uniform and curly brown hair under a "Sweetbird '69" trucker's hat. But those blue eyes... goodness, grace him with the ocean and he would turn away just to see those instead. He could've sworn he saw the River of Jordan reflecting in Bo's eyes, forever locked and still in rage and sadness. How many sins does Bo feel on a daily? How many times did he fall to his knees for forgiveness at night? Anthony wanted to hear every hymn pour from his lips and answer any prayer he had. But why is God showing him his best angel at his last moments on earth? Why now?

"Hang in there, Father," Bo said, his hand over the stab wound. "I'll get you help."

"Bo," Anthony repeated, a small smile curling on his lips. Everything was feeling darker than before. It was getting harder to stay awake as his head pounded. His chest raised and fell, feeling skin from the wound rip slowly. He heard the echoes of screams and painful cries from a darken wax house, but his eyes drifted to the clear skies above. So many stars painted on a black canvas tonight. What a blessing it is to share it with him. "Bo," he whispers, saying his name as if it's the most holiest thing on his tongue; as if it was the beautiful name he's ever heard. He had to say it one more time, just once more. Let him call his angel by his name one more time, dear Lord. "Bo..."

The moon reflected off his eyes, showing the stars above back in Bo's. Bo swallowed dryly as he held the Father closer in his arms. His listened to his dragged breaths and drawn-out sighs. Bo closed his eyes as the warmth of the blood flowed through his closed fingers, falling like a river on the street below. He felt like Mary holding her son for the last time, and it wasn't a feeling he wanted to have. It's like he was born to hold dying faiths and believers. Inside his arms, he was the keeper of death and final wishes for the dead, and deaths like these made his heart break.

Lester hated seeing people die, and now he knows why. He knows why he doesn't kill a human or want to be around when their last breaths caved out of collapsing chests and lungs.

Wheezing, Anthony tugged Bo on his button shirt. Glazed eyes looked upon him as if he was more than a killer, more than human and flesh mixed together. His lips moved, but no noise escaped. He tried again, wanting to forgive Bo for his sins, but his words were choked and hard to force out--

"It alright, Father," Bo reassured, a sad smile formed over his lips. "You c'n res' now. I'll take 'i from 're."

The full moon casts her light through twisted trees and branches from behind. Anthony squinted his eyes and gasped softly. The angel in the mechanic suit looks as if he was a fallen angel crawling back from hell after being rejected from the Lord, and it broke his heart more. His lips a soft pink and smooth to look at; skin warm and rough from hard work. Shining blue eyes filled with regret, and Bo's heart started aching just to see the fading air that escaped Anthony's lips. Maybe in a different life he and Bo would be happy? Maybe he would've came sooner and found safety in Bo's arms and gaze? Anyone would be lucky--

Bo clicked his tongue as he stood up, carrying the father in his arms as if he was a child. "No, Father," Bo said in a hushed voice. The warm southern wind wrapped around him, the leaves in the breeze sounding like wings wrapping around a strangling snake. How pathetic he must look to the ravens above and the stars that cross the careless sky. "Yer not dyin' 're." He shook his head as he heard Lester stir in the gravel. "Not in this hell."

Anthony wanted to know more, but his eyes rolled. the last thing he saw was the fading, wicked horns that the branches casts along Bo's skin.

#bo sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax 2005 #house of wax fanfiction #house of wax (2005) #bo sincliar x oc #lester sinclair x oc #house of wax fanfic #slash fic #slasher fanfiction #slasher x oc #my wriitng

[helloyesthisisdado]

dado goi thoughts

hello all dado follower since dado has hit the mile stone dado will be revealing his thoughts on all the goi that he can find on that one page on scipnet yes.

pls do not ask dado how he got on scipnet.

es see pee foundation: dado does not like the es see pee as they love to steal fine dado product and or threaten dado over email. alex ya va university: dado personally not interreact with them but has tried to sell the fine horses to them as he think they would like the high power horse. i think they could be good dado friends. ambrose restaurant: dado since change opinion on them and think they r wonderful place to eat at, great food for dado and is now business partner of dado. anderson robot: dado has tried and tried to work with them but they always say "mr dado u r so unprofessional at the robot" even though dado make fine robot like tsar roomba. they r not very nice. are we cool yet: dado does not know how to feel about the are we cool ppl as many of them hate dado but some do not hate dado. the are we cool ppl sometimes prank dado and dado does not like that. the black queen: dado wishes to not talk about the black queen as they do not like dado for some reason, dado does not know why. chaos insurgency: ppl who are better then the es see pee and dado like to pay them to go hit ppl, but still sometime steal dado product but dado is forgiving man and they do good job, dado like them. chicago ghost: dado once made a cigar for chicago ghosts and dado think "hmmm chicago ghost very cool" but then dado watch ghostbusters and dado no longer like them. church of broken god or something: dado is very on edge with religions especially the crazy cult kind of ppl but these guys are very friendly towards dado and do not mind him, dado will sometimes fund their crazy ongoings. the church of the second high tooth: dado does not like the cults. dado: idk why dado on goi list but dado like himself. u trust dado. dr wondertaintment (tee em): dado love the dr wondertaintment (tee em) and dado strives to be like them with all whimsy (tee em) and fun, but dado is not good at making the toy sometimes so he leave that to them. favourite dado partner. the factory: dado number one enemy as dado hate the factory and wish dado could punch them into the sky with dado boxing glove. dado wishes they suffer for long time. five church: dado does not like cult as he stated before and this no exception but dado find it funny how they worship the starfish like the patrick star from spunch bob. maybe they r funny ppl. gamers against weed: dado think the fact they r against weed is good thing as dado does not like devil lettuce, so dado support them but when dado try to enter chat room it fill dado pc with the weed so dado think the es see pee is attack them, they r cool ppl. global occult coal miners: just as bad as es see pee if not worse as they actively want dado heads, very bad and dado does not like it when they raid warehouse or threaten dado customer. do not threaten dado customer. dado stillnot consider them number one enemy. gru-p: dado had run in with gru-p when he make product for the russian but other then that no bad quarrels with the gru-p, dado hasnt heard from them for while though. circus of quiet ppl: dado is mortal enemy of circus as they ruined his moon fort and forced him to fight the spaceman in fisticuff (which dado won) dado wishes to not intrude on their business though. maybe could repair relationship. the horizon something (dado forgot): dado does not attempt to speak with them and wishes not to. ijamea: mmm dado love jam, very tasty. manna charity foundation: dado loves support charity like the good businessmen who r rich should, donate many product and money to them as anonymoose, very good ppl dado support. martian cottage and grimdark: dado does not know how to feel about them as they tried to hack dado, steal his product but also willing to work with dado??? dado have many bad experience though so he is 50/50 on them. nobody: dado cannot read into nobody as they are nobody. oria: who? oneiroi collection: helped dado with his dream marketing which is very good at selling the product to higher entity, dado like them as they r helpful for dado to further market in dream. pattern screamers:

dadafuiasfhiafhnidhfajkbfajgbgadgasjkgbahdgbgjkabgjlalgbadghlalgah srry hamster on keyboard. prometheus lab: dado similar to them, maybe dado even worked for them before is where dado got his keyboard from as well, dado miss them sometimes. sharkic cults: dado hate cults and dado hates sharks, dado does not like them at all. snake hands: dado feel bad for the walking library ppl with the snake hands and wish he could help them cure snake hands but dado is banned from library like what the? dado is try to help them and they treat him poorly. the shark punching centre: dado supports their cause 101% as dado hates sharks and sharko, dado donates 10% of his money made to them so they can punch sharks and sometimes dado will punch sharks. great people. uiu: hahahahah wizard police cannot touch mighty dado business, dado still hate them though as they will actively look for dado product that have been sold and take them away!!! wilson wildlife solution: very great ppl, take care of the horses (dado offer to replace before) and very kind ppl. dado wishes he could meet the tim wilson man in person but dado is very busy all the time. dado like them. three moon ppl: dado tries to avoid at all cost and they could spell end to dado business! very bad ppl, dado do not like, hate them alot. █████ industrial: dado pity them as they try to take the easy way out, big hole left in market and dado sometimes will try fill it in but he is not good at filling them in. dado wishes he could help. atf: evilest company run by evilest man (except factory) wishes to abuse customer base, does not respect customer either. dado does not like the atf. atari arcadia: dado think the arcade making and the game making is a very good idea for the business venture and maybe dado should reach out to them?? dado will try later, possibly good business partner. deer college: dado funds them in return dado get to help with school food menu full of yummy dado food, also dado will sometime teach the class there and is like "i am dado i teach u the magic pill and stuff" nice place to be. daevites: dado does not like the evil cult. eric: dado see alot of his younger self in eric so dado sometime reach out to him in time of the need and will offer help and maybe even the free dado product (wow) and also offer him support on his own things. just girl things: dado once tried break into market but did not agree with founder of just girl things so dado cut the ties and never talk to them again, does not like dado either. light courier enterprise: make the good product that dado like to keep and also spread a good message, very truthful and good ppl. lord blackwood: one of dado good friend who will share the tale that inspire dado to make a product, also look after robert mitchell when dado cannot. parawatch: the dado arg did not go over well, dado apologies to parawatch.net. not on good terms with dado either, will not come back. saturn deer planet guy: dado will sometime talk to them but dado is like "u r so evil and mean, dado is not like the evil and mean ppl" so dado block them. scarlet king: dado is not on good terms with red king man, dado try sell to him before and all he did was try and kill dado so dado will not try again. totleighsoft: dado once tried to invest in them but all they did was scream hazard at dado so dado gave up. dado glad he did not invest as they make the bad product. the going to hell ppl who made the puppy machine: also dado enemy, dado does not like or understand the product they make and wishes they go bankrupt or something soon. ok that is all goi dado can think of, dado hope u like his list and thoughts on the matter.

#dado #scp foundation #scp fandom #scp #goi

[unaccomplishedwriter]

- s a v i o r -

. Nicholas Scratch x Reader .

Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three |

{PART FOUR}

Your first impression of the little Morningstar was not a good one.

The second she laid eyes on Nick, she flew to him in a flurry of questions and scoldings. It wasn’t until after she’d calmed down that she noticed the odd atmosphere, and turned, along with the rest of her coven, to finally rest her gaze on you.

You still had a gentle silver ambience, as if starlight was caressing your body. The humming sound coming from the pulsation of your inner powers faded as you attempted to conceal your aura a bit more effectively. Soon, your presence dimmed and finally revealed your countenance more clearly. Your brows were furrowed and a frown graced your face, but otherwise not a hair of yours was out of place.

“Who are you?” Zelda stepped up and demanded, putting herself between you and the rest of the coven. You couldn’t help the quirk of your lip as you opened your mouth to retort, but then your gaze landed on Nick, who’s arm was still tightly gripped by Sabrina. She almost gave off the impression of a mother keeping her unruly child in check, and you quickly found your face morphing back into a frown.

“I’m no one you know of. If you need identification, just consider me a friend of Nick’s,” you replied curtly, turning your stare back to Zelda. The woman was very domineering, a trait you didn’t necessarily dislike. Her soul gave off powerful pulsations of anxiety, no doubt amplified by the inexplicable disappearance of their Hare Moon. She stared you down for another moment before turning and barking orders for the coven to return home, electing to ignore you for the meantime. This rendered you a bit speechless as you now hadn’t the foggiest idea of what to do next.

An attractive boy with curly hair and dark skin looked you over curiously, before being tugged away by an equally attractive girl sporting silver hair. They dragged along what looked to be a statue and another girl in a state of confusion who was giggling wildly. The trio and statue aroused your curiosity as well, and if you were more bold you might’ve followed them. Instead, you found yourself looking for Nick’s familiar presence in the bustle, his body having moved away from yours at some point.

A few feet away, Sabrina was attempting to herd Nick along with the others, but before she could get him to move, he made eye contact with you, pulling himself away from her. He spoke a few words in her direction before turning away, leaving her to make her way back alone.

Nick mentioned previously how they had broken up, but now you weren’t so sure. It definitely didn’t seem that way to Sabrina, but before you could dwell more on the thought he’d already made his way in front of you.

“You should come with us. It’s better for you to get a grasp on our situation so you can figure out what it is you need to do,” he exclaimed softly. His hands made their way into yours with an ease that no doubt would have made the Spellman girl’s eyes red, and only then did your face crack into a smile.

“I don’t think I’m welcome. Besides, it’s not just your coven I have to worry about,” you reminded. He paused for a second, before glancing down at you with that familiar, sheepish grin of his.

“I’m pretty sure most of Greendale’s issues stem from the Spellman House.”

He didn’t say it explicitly, yet he did. Instead of referring to his entire coven, currently housed at the academy, his wording made it obvious. All roads pointed to Sabrina Spellman being the cause and key to fixing Greendale’s problems, which meant the Spellman House was the best place for you to begin your mission.

As you walked towards the academy, the place where you’ll possibly be staying for the foreseeable future, Nick explained in more detail everything that’s happened so far, starting from Sabrina enrolling in the Academy of Unseen Arts.

If you were being honest, you weren’t exactly fond of Nick’s coven due their very large part in the degradation of the stability of this domain. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized that the problem stemmed from one person; the little Morningstar and her selfish complexities.

Starting with her refusal to cut ties with her mortal friends, it seemed that Sabrina Spellman brought disaster upon anyone who associated with her ever since. When Nick explained that although the coven’s problems originally began with Sabrina refusing her birthright and its responsibilities, the girl assumed the mantle only after everything went to shit, complicating her coven’s situation and Nick’s sacrifice.

You couldn’t help but to see red.

He may not have mentioned it, but from the dark bags under his red-rimmed eyes, you could tell Nick’s suffering didn’t end when he was freed from Hell.

It seems that you needed to take a long look at what you were willing to do to save your domain, and getting rid of the problem at the white-haired root seemed mighty enticing currently.

Electing not to share such thoughts with Nick, you continued to listen quietly the rest of the way there.

The pagans seemed like the biggest threat to your mission, from what you could infer from Nick. They were definitely cooking up something big, and you felt unease settling in the pit of your stomach. The vacuum of power in Hell caused for much bigger consequences here on Earth, and now forces that are much darker and older than you’d ever thought you’d have to deal with were about.

The witches may not have a clear picture just yet, but you knew very well what the startling, confident arrival of pagans in someone’s domain meant.

Pagans didn’t necessarily reject the existence of Fate. On the contrary, their willingness to patiently pursue what they see as the inevitable arrival of their deities actually aligns with all the laws of Fate and destiny.

That is what makes their existence in Greendale so troublesome.

Whatever the pagans are cooking up has a very high likelihood of succeeding.

Lost in thought, before you knew it you two had already arrived at the academy. Unsurprisingly, Sabrina was waiting for you there. 

“So, Nick,” she started, crossing her arms. She gave you the once over, lips pursing into a thin line. It took all you had not to roll your eyes, instead bracing yourself for the round of questioning you just knew you were going to receive.

“Explain who your friend is again? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned her.” 

You knew that last line was a jab at you, but you ignored the childishness of the situation and waited in silence for the boy next to you to respond.

You supposed such a comment was meant to elicit insecurity, but honestly, you’ve never spoken about Nick to others either. It almost felt wrong; like the intimacy you two shared wasn’t meant for prying eyes and chattering mouths to behold. He was the first human you helped; the first person you came into contact with outside of your own kind. 

Well, if you don’t count that insufferable Dark Lord of theirs. 

Somehow, between all those secret visits and ardent conversations, you began to not only treasure your time spent with the boy, but Nick himself. You felt a bond between the two of you borne from the intensity of the feelings you’d shared. With Nick, you didn’t feel as if the weight of a literal world had been thrust upon your shoulders. It was as if you were actually making someone’s life better, and there was no better feeling than that. 

“She’s someone who’s important to me,” Nick, after a long stretch of silence and stares, finally responded. “Very important.”

As you watched the girl in front of you flare her nostrils, you couldn’t help the giddy feeling that bloomed in your chest. At the very least, you knew your position in Nick’s heart wasn’t a low one. For some reason, the thought made you inexplicably happy. 

“And why is she here?” Sabrina forced out. You raised an eyebrow, but supposed the question was warranted enough given the situation. 

Supposed. The irritation wanting to present itself through snark bubbling at your throat indicated otherwise, but you held your tongue.

“(Y/n) is here to help. She has unique abilities that might be able to influence the situation given enough time.” 

During your visits to Hell, you’d explained the way your powers worked to Nick. As an agent of Fate, a stela could not interfere directly with the people and events of a domain. They could only act independently, or at the most suggestively. Your powers were more of an indirect nature, influencing things behind the scenes. 

A domain’s, and ultimately a person’s, Fate, was still up to them.

The girl hummed in acknowledgment, and before she could fire another question your way, a sharp summons by Zelda caught her attention. 

“We’ll finish this later,” she tossed out over her shoulder, before hurrying toward the direction of her aunt’s voice. You couldn’t help but shiver at the pure commanding aura just the voice of the Zelda woman gave off, her persona reminding you of your own Head Stela. Scrunching your nose, you turned to Nick to see him inclining his head toward a corridor to the left. 

“What’s wrong?” You queried, a bit worried. The look on his face seemed unpleasant, and you instinctively reached for his hand. The frown between his brows eased, and he glanced down at you with a soft expression.

“Nothing,” he said gently. “Let me show you around.”

You and Nick spent the next hour touring the academy grounds, you receiving a detailed backstory of the events that had happened recently and the academy’s history in general. 

At some point, you two had run into Ambrose and Prudence, the duo attempting to find a way to cure the girl’s sisters of their afflictions. 

“What happened to them?” 

You asked softly, making your way in front of Dorcas. The poor witch seemed to have been turned to stone, a horrified look permanently etched onto her face. Behind you, Agatha span around the room in circles, constant giggling and trills escaping her mouth. 

Prudence couldn’t help the sneer that instantly came to her face, but calmed down at the thought of getting any help she could get for her sisters. Studying you, she stared holes into your body as if she could burn right through it. Shrugging it off, you turned towards Ambrose instead, who gave you a quick rundown of the situation. Apparently, the girls had been the first victims of the now war with the pagan witches, and had been reduced to the state they were in now.

Turning back to Dorcas, you placed a glowing hand onto the girl’s body, sending a thrum of energy into the statue. After a beat, you were delighted to feel a dull thrumming bouncing back at you. A wide smile spreading across your face, you addressed the three other sane occupants of the room.

“She’s still alive,” you exclaimed. “And definitely kicking.”

Prudence gasped, and immediately made her way to your side. 

“She’s strong,” you told her, “Some people would have immediately lost consciousness in such a state. As long as she holds on, there’s hope.”

Ambrose was also by your side after that, shooting question after question about Dorcas’ condition and how to save her. After a while of back and forth, you shook your head in regret.

There was nothing you could personally to save her.

“I can keep her soul active. At the very least, it’ll keep her life force strong enough that her consciousness doesn’t fade.” 

Prudence teared up, before shaking her head vigorously. “That’ll be enough. We will figure out how to save my sister together.” 

She now seemed much more friendly to you, choosing to hold you by the arm and lead you to the dancing form of other sister, Agatha.

“She’s gone insane,” Ambrose started. “Prudence tried to organize her thoughts earlier, but they’re too scrambled, too chaotic. It is most worrying.” 

At some point, Nick excused himself, making an excuse that you barely had time to catch before he’d disappeared. Somewhat put off, you elected to ignore it for now in favor of helping those in front of you. 

You still had a job to do, after all. 

“Agatha?” 

You called, slowly approaching. The girl paused, before inclining her head towards you. Her shoulders shook as she lost herself in her own mind, a broken soul that you yearned to fix. It was a chaotic cloud, formless and desolate. You knew this girl wasn’t without her own pain, no doubt the premiere subject of the madness her mind was now drowning in. Reaching for the girl’s face, your palm once again released an aura most curious to Ambrose. He’d made it a point to ask you of it later, eager to learn how your powers worked. 

He and the rest of the coven still knew nothing about you, but you’d proven yourself friendly so far and that was all he could be bothered to concern himself with.

Touching your forehead to Agatha’s, you found yourself being pulled into the depths of her memories. Images darted before you, certainly out of order and hard to condense into some form of cohesion you could go off of. Instead, you chose to cling to the next memory to flit by, determined to find an anchor for both yourself and the girl to cling to.

It happened to be the moment she’d first laid eyes upon the god Pan, also the one Prudence had witnessed secondhand earlier when she’d attempted to pull Agatha back to sanity. 

This moment must be the most significant contributor to her current state.

Now, you’d done your fair share of learning about the pagan gods, but few stood out as Pan did. The god was madness personified, dooming anyone who viewed his countenance to torture within the recesses of their own mind. It was not quite as deliberate as what you’d witnessed with Nick and Lucifer, but it wasn’t too far off. The poor witch was reliving the worst moments of her life, trapped within a disarrayed cycle she couldn’t escape from.

Nearly being overwhelmed yourself, it took all your willpower to interrupt the nightmare. Placing yourself between Agatha and Pan as the memory repeated itself, you once again grabbed her face and held on tightly.

“There’s nothing to see. You are in your own mind and he isn’t real. You are the god here,” you told her firmly. Agatha’s eyes locked onto yours, fear obvious in her features. You cycled your energy through her body and yours, gradually easing the girl into a more calm state of mind. 

“He..he did something to me!” she stuttered out, franticly grasping at your wrists. Her soul pulsated wildly, threatening to break the lull  and resume its previous chaotic form. 

You slowly nodded, keeping your aura calm and steady.

“He did,” you affirmed. “But it was only in your head. You are in control here, not him. He can’t do anything that you don’t allow him to; he exploits weakness. And you’re not weak, are you Agatha?”

She slowly shook her head, her gaze never leaving yours. You continued to feed your energy into her, coaxing her soul into a gentle slumber. 

“I’m going to help you now. You will sleep, and be at peace.” 

Putting Agatha’s soul to rest was the only thing you could do for the time being. The extent of the breakdown of her mind was too deep, and it required repeated therapy of her mind and soul. You could hep recondition her soul, but the issue with her mind would probably require the help of her sister Prudence, who’s strong will and overall intimacy with the girl was higher and would be of more help.

Pulling yourself back to reality, you lowered the now unconscious girl’s body to the ground along with your own, placing her on the floor. 

 “I put her soul to sleep,” you informed Prudence and Ambrose, swiping a stray hair from Agatha’s face as you gazed down at her. You felt your core throbbing weakly and knew you needed to rest, but you didn't regret it. As you spent more time in your domain you would no doubt get stronger, and you’d be able to help even more people.

You were genuinely looking forward to making your mark with the people of Greendale.

Prudence lowered herself to settle on the other side of Agatha, caressing her sister’s face in worry. 

You reassured her that continued therapy by the two of you should eventually return her sister sane, and a watery smile made its way onto her face. 

“Thank you,” she sighed, her exhaustion evident. You gave a small smile, nodding return. Ambrose placed a hand on your shoulder, beckoning you toward the corner. 

There, he spoke of the things Nick neglected to, or rather chose not to. Specifically of his and Prudence’s quest, and the events that followed their return.

From Ambrose, you learned of Faustus Blackwood, and the alarmed humming of your inner core alerted you of the significance of said man. Apparently he’d become the Dark Lord’s newest vessel, and you reminded yourself to pay the man a visit later. 

Of course, thanks to one Nicholas Scratch, you never got the chance.

A/N: I finally updated 🙃 I’ve made it a point to finally get a tag-list going for you guys’ sake due to my unreliable release schedule lol, so if you guys would like to be added please leave a message or comment requesting me to do so! The next chapter should come a lot sooner as my hours as work have finally been cut down a teensy bit more due to everything going on.

#nicholas scratch x reader #nick scratch x reader #x reader #i finally updated lol #ill make a taglist #ily #the chilling adventures of sabrina #ambrose x reader #prudence x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #gavin underwood #gavin underwood x reader #the chilling tales of sabrina #netflix

[goldleafacrossyourlips]

Uneasy Lies the Head - Dark Lord/OC - Chapter 7

Chapters - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

Chapter 7 - Lotus and Truth

Samara trailed behind Harvey as he jogged with Sabrina in his arms. The rest of the Coven followed close behind. Samara’s eyes still glowed with otherworldly power and the thorn crown still adorned her head. She had since ripped the arrows out of her abdomen and chest. Blood trickled out from the closing wounds. The blessed blade protruded from her back. Harvey had been too caught up in Sabrina for Samara to have him remove it. They were quickly approaching the Academy so Samara would just have someone there pull it out. 

“What the Heaven happened to her?” Nick was the first voice they heard as Harvey and Samara entered the Academy. 

“Where’s her Aunt Hilda?” Harvey didn’t answer Nick’s question. Samara didn’t pause and continued towards where she felt like she was being pulled. Something needed her.

“The dormitory.” Nick finally noticed Samara as she continued towards him. He saw the blood and thorn crown first. He rushed forward to help her. Just as he went to grab her arm for support, he froze. Samara’s unnatural eyes snapped to him before he could touch her. Fear froze him at the power and rage that filled them. He lowered his hand and simply watched as she glided past him. Worry swirled in as he spotted the dagger standing out of her back. He followed close behind her, hovering in case the power that coursed within her failed and she collapsed. He barely noticed the rest of the Coven following them.

“Ms. Spellman!” Harvey yelled as he carried Sabrina in. Hilda’s already sorrowful face dropped even further.

“Put her there!” Hilda pointed to one of the beds. Her tear filled eyes spilled over as she took in the sight of her other niece. Her gentle, sweet niece that had gone through so much looked a mess. Blood streaking her face, staining her clothes and a thorn crown upon her head. Her heart broke for her little family. “Dear Satan, I haven’t patched Ambrose up yet.”

“Samara, darling, lay down on the bed beside her. I’ll get to you when I’m done with your cousins. Okay. Okay. Thank Lucifer she’s not bleeding as much as her cousin. Okay, the arrows I’m gonna have to leave it in until I can get Ambrose on the mend.” Hilda sobbed as she looked at her still, fair-haired niece on the bed before returning to her nephew.

Samara felt like she was in a bubble. A bubble that was filled with crackling power, warmth and strength. But the outside world was hard to focus on. She knew there were people talking around her, she could see them moving. She just couldn’t hear them. She could see her Aunt Hilda go back to still bleeding Ambrose while Sabrina laid on the bed before her, still and unmoving. 

She approached her female cousin and stared down at her. The arrows still protruded from her chest and the cuts left behind by her thorn crown oozed. Samara knew she could help her. Make the stillness full of life; put breath into her lungs.

Samara quickly ripped the arrows that had found their home in Sabrina, distantly hearing the shocked cries of some people around her. She ignored them and continued to do what she was compelled to. She placed her hand along Sabrina’s stomach and her other atop her cousin’s forehead. 

“It’s not your time to go, Sabrina. So come back to me. Come back to me.” Samara uttered under her breath.

She felt as what once gave her strength and power before fueled her once more. She felt that power flow from her, to her hands and to the body laying before her. It felt like hours before she knew she needed to stop. As she once again peered down at her cousin, she could see her wounds had closed and could see her chest rising and falling. 

With one cousin taken care of she turned from her and slowly walked to her other cousin and Aunt. She could see Ambrose’s body convulse under her Aunt’s hands. The angels really had done a number on him. A part of her wished that they’d kept them longer, to make them suffer by her hands for what they’d done. But Samara took comfort in knowing the Dark Lord had them now. 

She knelt beside Ambrose’s bed after getting between him and her Aunt. She knew Aunt Hilda was saying something but still couldn’t hear her. She still couldn’t hear anything. Samara placed both her dainty hands on his chest and began the instinctual healing she’d done with her other cousin. She could feel that Ambrose was teetering towards Death, and she worked to push her power into him, to heal what the angel’s had done to him. She could feel herself waver.

Just when she began to think she’d fail, she felt a hand place itself on her shoulder. White blonde hair filled her peripheral vision.

“I can help.” Sabrina’s words were simple yet crystal clear and the first things she’d heard since the angels had burned. Samara refocused her energy, now singing from what Sabrina was pushing into her. She watched as Ambrose’s heavily bleeding wounds slowed to a trickle, then to nothing as the skin knitted itself back up. She rested her head against his side as she finished mending him and heaved a sigh. She felt Sabrina squeeze her shoulder before a whisper hit her ear.

“You’re going to be okay but this is gonna hurt.” She heard her cousin’s soft voice before pain like Hellfire raced through her back. She felt her mouth open in a scream as sticky warmth trailed down her spine. Her cousin stroked a hand through her hair as she chanted the first sentence over and over again in her ear. However, her voice got more and more muffled until Samara could hear no more and felt like a puppet with cut strings.

Samara didn’t know where she was. Well, she could piece together that she was in a grove of somesorts. Vines, ivy and branches twisted around the perimeter of the small meadow. Light tried to pierce in from the heavy tree tops but could only streak through. The air was thick and heavy of an impending storm. She could smell it. 

Red chrysanthemums, calla lilies, blue and red salvia speckled the clearing before her. She had taken a step towards the red chrysanthemums when she saw what she was wearing. A thin, white sundress and barefoot. She shrugged to herself and continued towards her favorite flowers. She had just knelt before them when a sound disturbed her silence. Samara whipped her head around, trying to find the culprit. To her left, she found it. Or rather him. And she felt her breath leave her.

He had to be the most handsome man she’d ever laid her eyes upon. Black curls that shined much like her own, but his were uncontained. Crystal blue eyes that she could tell could be cruel, but held nothing but warmth and content now. Lips that were as quick to grin as they were to snarl. A lean and cut body that caused a fire to light within her. And his height. She’d never met a man so tall, were her thoughts as her head continued to tilt back as he approached her. Finally he stopped before her, her head fully extended back. She remained on her knees, a feeling of surety this strange man wouldn’t harm her.

“What a spectacle you’ve caused, my darling. I must confess myself impressed.” His voice was lilting and smooth. Samara felt something within her tremble in the best way. She blinked up at him.

“Where am I? Who are you?” Confusion twisted inside her, frustration starting to take hold. The last thing she remembered was healing her cousin, pain and then passing out. 

The man knelt before her, coming down to her level. Not that he really was at her level, even kneeling he was still taller than her. He reached a hand out and stroked along her cheekbone before cradling her cheek in the palm of his large hand.

“We’re someplace safe. Where you’ll feel no pain. That was quite a number done on you, my darling. Even with my help and your cousin’s, it will take some time for you to be back to normal. You had already expended much energy forcing your way into the consecrated church, then to have that blessed blade in you. Tsk tsk, we’re going to have to work on your tactics, my dear.” He simultaneously soothed and scolded. Samara wanted to feel irritated at his attempted reprimand but was too busy reveling in the feeling of him caressing her face. 

“All that talking and you still haven’t told me who you are.” She sniped out, a smile curling the edges of her lips as he chuckled. He leaned down and plucked one of her red flowers.

“Such fire. Even now after all that has happened. Yes, you’ll be perfect.” The man rambled in that irritatingly perfect voice of his. Before she could protest his lack of answer he continued. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out who I am soon enough. Let me enjoy your company before you have to head back.” He twirled the flower around in his fingers before placing it behind her ear. He smirked at his work and trailed a finger down her jaw to grip her chin.

“There, a beauty for a beauty. It seems our time is up, my dear.” He tugged her slightly forward by his grip as he leaned towards her. He rested his lips upon her forehead and inhaled deeply. His touch was scorching, thawing ice she hadn’t even realized settled beneath her skin. Her eyes had closed in bliss.

“Soon, my Samara.” His words were whispered against her skin. She leaned back to ask him what he meant and blinked up at him. But when she opened her eyes, he was gone. As too was the meadow and grove and all the beautiful flowers. All that surrounded her was darkness. And she began to fall.

Samara jerked at the sudden feeling of weightlessness and sat up in her bed. She huffed in confusion and glanced around. She was in her room at the Spellman house. The moon was high in the sky and the stars sparkled beside it. Phlox was curled up at her hip, now staring up at her from her jerking them both awake. Samara stroked his head, smiling at her familiar. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and staggered as she stood. Her muscles felt stiff and she took a moment to stretch. She began walking towards the door to go downstairs when the mirror caught her eye. She stood before it and scanned herself.

Nothing seemed intrinsically changed but something seemed….off. Her hair was still the same, skin still the same, height definitely still the same. What was different? Oh! Her eyes maybe. Where once they were a sharp silver, now they seemed to cast a glittering blue. Maybe it was the light? She shrugged and continued on her way. As she carefully walked down the stairs, Samara could feel her Shadows close to her. Whether they were taking comfort in her being awake or making sure she didn’t do a header down the stairs, either way she was thankful. 

She could hear her Aunt puttering around in the kitchen area. Now that she looked around the house did look a bit of a mess from what she could see. Cups and plates were everywhere and a lot of the rugs throughout the rooms were bunches up and messed up. Aunt Zelda wouldn’t be happy.

“Auntie?” Samara called out as she rounded the corner. Before she could utter another word she was blindsided with two strong arms wrapping around her and lifting her up. She prepared herself to blast whoever was restraining her with raw power before she recognized the familiar scent. Ambrose. She went from resisting his embrace to wrapping her arms around him.

“Cousin. Thank Satan you’re awake. It’s been days.” Ambrose leaned back and peered down at her. Samara blinked up at him in confusion. Days?

“I was having the most lovely dream. I’m just glad you’re okay Ambrose. I was really worried for you.” Samara pouted up at him to which he chuckled and hugged her again. He was quickly shoved out of the way by their Aunt Hilda, who immediately wrapped her up in an equally strong embrace.

“Ohh, my darling Samara. You are never allowed to scare me like that again. Do you hear me? Breaking in to consecrated churches and getting stabbed with a blessed blade. Are you trying to send me to an early grave?” Hilda fretted, stroking a hand through her hair. Samara chuckled and shook her head, happy to have her family together.

“I’m fine now Auntie. Where’s Sabrina?” Samara looked around the room and couldn’t find her other cousin. Ambrose took a seat at the dining table and looked at them.

“She went out with some of her friends. Harvey said he had to show her something.” Aunt Hilda answered, pulling away from her and corralling her into a seat beside Ambrose. Instantly a saucer of tea and sweets were before her. Samara hummed happily and began to munch on them, just now realizing how hungry she was. 

“So would we like to discuss your new powers in healing and resurrecting the dead, dear cousin?” Ambrose questioned, crossing his legs and looking towards her. Samara shrugged her shoulders and dipped a sweet in her tea before nibbling at it. Aunt Hilda sat next to her and rested a hand on top of hers. Before Samara could give a reply, the front door slammed open and feet were stomping in. Samara tensed before she saw it was just her cousin and her 4 friends. She saw joy and relief flit across her cousin’s face as they made eye contact before worry and concern darkened it again.

“Auntie, Ambrose, Samara. There’s something we need to tell you.” Samara and her sitting party all perked up in attention. 

“What is it, my love?” Aunt Hilda tried to soothe her obviously worried cousin but Sabrina just shook her head.

“Harvey and Theo found something down in the mines. So they came to get me to check it out. What we found is thousands of years old. Who knows how old-”

“What was it?” Ambrose cut Sabrina off, never one to deal with suspense well. Sabrina approached Samara’s side and knelt beside her. She grabbed onto her free hand and stared into her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was grave.

“We found a prophecy. Crafted in mosaic in the wall of a mine. It’s old, really old. Which makes it all the more concerning, because I think it’s true.” Sabrina spoke low and soft. Samara’s brows wrinkled together, she squeezed the hand her cousin held.

“What is the prophecy then? It can’t be that bad.” Samara joked, but her cousin’s face still remained stoic. Samara felt a frown pull at her lips.

“It could be. It showed us together, like we were in the church. Me with white eyes, you with blue. Powerful both of us. And at the sides of the Dark Lord. It said that I am the Herald of Hell, to bring upon the Apocalypse and have Hell run rampant on Earth. And it said you Samara are to be beside the Dark Lord. To help him rule over Hell on Earth...as his Queen.” Samara felt the blood drain to her stomach, her mouth slack jawed. Silence rang as loudly as a train throughout the room. She stared into her cousin’s eyes and saw the truth that shown through them. She could feel deep inside herself at the truth that were her words. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Well, that explained a couple things.

#caos #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #Lucifer Morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x oc #lucifer morningstar x ofc #oc #ofc #satan x oc #satan x reader #satan x ofc #sabrina #spellman #ambrose #hilda #zelda #tagging never ends boooo

[icetomeetya]

Wiztober Day 17: Moon

This one’s incredibly sad, but I love how it turned out.

Warnings: None

3 AM. Most twelve year olds would be asleep by now, but Taylor perched on the roof of Ambrose’s office, head in her hands.

This was all too much. All of it.

Why did she have to get involved with all of this? Why didn’t she just let Rachel suffer through this alone before she got attached? She’d never be able to deal with something like this.

She wasn’t Rowan.

Strong, stoic, steadfast Rowan. Selfless, selfish, stubborn Rowan. When the clock tolled once, Taylor wanted to run to her, to hug her and plead with her and beg her to please, please talk to her again. With the second toll, she wanted to scream at her, curse her out for leaving her and vanishing when she needed her.

Sure, she was no longer called onto the front lines of the battle. Or the battlefield at all. Wonderous Rowan had made sure of that. Perhaps it was unfair; about half of her class had no other choice, and who knows if Taylor would have been part of that unlucky half. She doubted it; no one would even give her a second glance if they didn’t know her last name. Being top of the class is too much effort, too much attention, and Taylor thrived in the anonymity of darkness.

Under the cold, distant moon and the even more distant stars.

Wasn’t that the perfect metaphor for her life. The closest being to her always looming over her, shrouding her in hollow, borrowed light, staring at her as if she was a stranger. And the nearest potential warmths blazed thousands of light years away.

“Tell me what to do,” Taylor whispered, lacing her fingers together as the breeze drowned out her feeble cry. “I’m scared. Rachel and I are in danger, and I'd never be able to sleep at night if I just abandoned her now.

“I don’t even care if you never give me anything aside from advice. I don’t need you, anyways,” Taylor continued, shrugging with stiff shoulders. “Just please, tell me. I don’t want to mess up. I can’t mess up, but I don’t know how to make the right choice.”

Tears raced down Taylor’s face as she stared at the moon. It didn’t look at her. It never did.

“Maybe I want you to fall. Is that so awful to say? As long as you’re still around and safe...maybe that’d be better. You don’t need to always be there, so far away; someone else can take your place. So...”

The world seemed to fall silent for a heartbeat as it listened to Taylor’s ardent plea. “Please come back to me.”

#wizard101 #wizzy fandom #wiztober #wiztober2020

[destiny-fireblood]

Before Wizard City

Before Wizard City, she knew sadness, darkness, pain. Morgan had been alone all her life. Unloved by her family, unwanted by everyone else in the world, Morgan had looked to the sky in the hopes that one day she could escape amongst the stars, and there she could be happy.

Morgan knew from a young age that she was different. It was more than her fascination with zombies, or her belief that death was not the end of life. It was more than the creeping cold that would settle in her bones during the chill of the night. It was how that creeping cold gave Morgan the warmest feeling she’d ever known. It was like Morgan came alive in the cold night, her smiles genuine, her laughter true, and her heart as light as it could ever be.

As she grew older, Morgan learned that not everyone would accept her darkness, the hauntedness of her eyes. Other children yelled around her, either at Morgan directly or at the top of their lungs as they ran away in fear when Morgan’s eyes began to glow with an eerie black light and her skin became sunken and hollow. Morgan learned to hit back just as hard, with venom dripping from her lips and the ever-present coldness in her heart that grew and grew until it felt like it would swallow her whole. She hoped that the words she said would protect her heart from the damage caused by everyone around her.

It didn’t help at all, but Morgan would pretend that it did. It was the only way she could keep going.

That was how Morgan lived for 16 years. That’s how she would have kept living, if not for one night.

Sitting atop the roof above the room she shared with three other girls at the orphanage, Morgan gazed up at the stars and wished for them to take her away. She blinked once, and then again slower. There, above here, one of the stars was moving in a straight line, growing steadily brighter as it trekked across the night sky. Morgan climbed to her feet unable to believe her eyes. It looked like the star was headed straight for her. That couldn’t be possible.

Before Morgan could try to rationalize the thought away, play as if the moving star was simply a trick of the light, her exhausted eyes playing tricks on her, the star came to a stop. It rested at eye level just before Morgan, close enough to touch. Unable to resist the temptation, Morgan lifted one hand and touched the star with her index finger. It exploded in a dazzling display of light that, quite literally, swept Morgan off her feet.

Then, she was racing across the very same sky. The world around her blurred and Morgan was sure she would be sick. Just as suddenly as the movement started, it stopped and Morgan was gently deposited on a wooden floor. A man stood before her dressed in blue robes with images of stars, moons, and suns across the fabric. A grey owl was perched beside him, wearing glasses and what looked like a graduation cap. Morgan rubbed at her eyes to make sure she could see clearly.

“Splendid!” The man spoke cheerfully. “You have arrived safely, we have been waiting for you.”

“Who are you?” Morgan did her best to ask in a strong voice but all she could manage was a whisper. “Where I am?”

“I am Merle Ambrose, Headmaster of Ravenwood Academy of the Magical Arts located in Wizard City, which is where you are now,” the Headmaster explained patiently. “We noticed the potential in you from all the way across the Spiral, to the world without magic and brought you here in the hopes that you might be able to help us.”

“There is a grave danger afoot,” the owl spoke suddenly, Morgan barely resisted the urge to jump in surprise. “We fear you may be the only one who can help us.”

“After a bit of training, of course,” Merle butted in, wagging his finger playfully at the owl. “Gamma, bring me the stones please.”

The owl, Gamma, swooped away from the perch and collected a drawstring satchel from a nearby shelf, which was quickly deposited in Headmaster Ambrose’s hand.

“Excellent now,” Ambrose turned back to Morgan. “Close your eyes and call your power to you so we might find out what school to place you in.”

Deciding that her day couldn’t get any weirder than it already was, Morgan did as instructed. She wasn’t exactly sure how she was meant to call her power up so she simply took a few deep breaths and held her hands up, palms towards the sky. Something shifted inside and that creeping cold filled Morgan’s being. The warmth rose with the feeling and something hard landed in Morgan’s hand. When she opened her eyes, she was holding a medium sized black gemstone.

“Death,” Ambrose said, his voice just the slightest bit less cheery that before. “You-sorry, what is your name?”

“Morgan…” she hesitated before giving her last name and Gamma took a moment to intervene.

“Perhaps a better question is, what do you wish to be called? It can be any name you please.”

Morgan paused for a moment, considering. This all seemed like a dream, like she would wake up in the orphanage again, miserable and alone, and suffer through another day before she could let her heart roam free in the coolness of night. An idea struck her suddenly.

“Morgan NightHeart,” she said confidently. If this was a dream, she was going to make it her own. Headmaster Ambrose nodded.

“Very well, Morgan NightHeart, welcome to Ravenwood Academy. Your journey as a student of Death Magic awaits.”

The Headmaster bowed with a flourish and light encased Morgan again, carrying her off again towards the future that she could only hope was real.

#wizard101 #Wizzy101 #wizzy #wizzy writings #wiz chronicles #wizard chronicles #my writings

[the-beastslayers-queen]

Magic and Moonlight: Chapter 5

Here’s Chapter 5. Sorry for the feels. Tagging @queenofthearchitect @bethany99stuff-blog and @balorrollinsambrose Enjoy! If you want to be tagged, hit my inbox.

I woke up the next morning to the sun streaming through the window. I went to try to sit up, but I was stopped by a strong arm draped over my waist. I turned my head to find Colby still sound asleep. His hair was strewn across his face in complete disarray. I rolled over onto my other side, now facing Colby, and began to brush his hair out of his face, being careful not to wake him. He looked so peaceful, so calm in his sleep. Colby started to stir so I stopped messing with his hair, worried I woke him up too soon.

“Thea,” Colby’s voice was hoarse, sleep weighing heavily on him, “Don’t stop.”

“Sorry if I woke you up,” I went back to messing with his hair and he sighed in content, “Sorry about last night. I let my magic get out of hand.”

“Hey it’s okay,” Colby rolled so he hover over me and kept his body weight off of me by propping himself up on his forearms, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I knew what I was getting into. We’ll work on getting your magic to stay in check. Besides, I can recover quickly. It’s one of the many perks of being a wolf.”

“What other perks do you have,” I asked as I raked my fingers through his hair.

“Well for one,” Colby dipped his head down to kiss my jaw, “I’m very warm so I come in handy during cold nights. My senses are heighten so I can sense danger and leap into action to protect those I care about.”

“That’s a good plus,” I smirked as I kept playing with his hair, “What else?”

“I can see in the dark,” he smirked, “And I have a deep connection with my pack, my brothers.”

“How deep,” I asked.

“We can communicate when we’re wolves,” he explained, “And when we’re human. It’s like were always in each other’s heads. So when one of us needs help, the others come to the rescue.”

“Did they know about us last night,” I asked, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh they knew,” Colby chuckled a little, “But they knew to stay out of it. I think I want you to really meet them today. It’s only right that I introduce my girlfriend to my pack and all.”

“Girlfriend,” I smirked and wiggled my eyebrows a little, “When was that agreed?”

“Now,” Colby gave a cheeky grin, “If you’ll do me the honors of having me as your boyfriend.”

“Well duh,” I giggled and pulled him down to kiss him, “I don’t sleep with just any man without making him my boyfriend.”

“Good,” Colby kissed me again, “Because I could get used to having a beautiful girl like you on my arm and in my bed.”

Colby and I arrived to the PC, a tea in my hand and a coffee in his. I was draped on his arm and all eyes drifted to us as we made our way into the ring area. Colby and I found a corner of the room to put down our gym bags. I went into my bag and grabbed my compact mirror and looked to find I had exposed hickies all over my neck and shoulders.

“Damn it Colby,” I groaned as I touched each mark, “You just couldn’t help yourself could you? I’m not going to be able to cover these up before the tapings tonight.”

“Guilty as charged,” Colby smirked before kissing my cheek, “I have to advertise that you’re mine now.”

Just as Colby wrapped his arms around me, his fellow Shield members came over to us.

“Sup Uce,” the larger of the two, Roman, greeted Colby.

“Hey bro,” the other greeted Colby second, “Who’s this lovely doll?”

“This is Thea,” Colby replied, “Thea, this is Joe and Jon, better known as Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose. They’re my pack brothers.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Thea,” Roman pulled me from Colby and hugged me.

“Nice to meet you, dollface,” Dean took my hand and kissed my knuckles. I swear I could hear Colby growl at him at little.

“So she knows about us right,” Roman asked.

“Yeah I know,” I replied as I showed him my birthmark, “And for the record I’m a witch.”

“Damn Uce,” Roman laughed a little, “You got yourself a firecracker for a mate.”

“Yeah well,” Colby just shrugged before he pulled me back into his arms, “I got pretty lucky.”

I was busy packing my bags for the flight to Indianapolis, Colby was laying in my bed, scrolling through the music on my phone. I was trying to find something nice to wear for while we’re out in Indianapolis, since Colby planned on taking me out on the town our first night there. But I groaned in frustration and decided to just plop down on my bed across Colby’s chest.

“Ow rude,” Colby snickered as I landed on him, “What’s wrong, babe?”

“I can’t find anything to wear for our night out,” I groaned, “I think I need to go shopping.”

“Okay let me up,” Colby sat up as I moved, “I’ll take a look in your closet and find you something.”

Colby walked into my closet and I grabbed my phone to start shopping online for a nice dress in case Colby couldn’t find anything. Just as I found one I liked, Colby came out with a dress dangling on his finger.

“Thea,” Colby called out to me, “I found one. I think I need you to try this on for me before I decide that this is the dress I want you to wear in Indy.”

I sighed and grabbed the dress from him and went into my closet to put on the dress. Once I had it on, I slipped on a pair of black heels on to finish the look. I took a deep breath before I stepped out into my room. I looked over at Colby as he sat on the edge of my bed. His eye lit up at seeing me in the dress.

“Wow,” Colby got up and closed the distance between us, “This is the dress I want you to wear in Indy. I want people to see my girl on my arm in this number. Pack it.”

“I’ll bring it,” I told him as I went to change back into my joggers and tank top, but he stopped me.

“Let me take that dress off,” Colby wiggled his brows at me as he licked his lips.

Colby and I were fully packed for our flight in a couple days. Right now, we were in his and Roman’s apartment, cuddling in Colby’s bed. Tonight was going to be a full moon, which meant that Colby would be forced to turn for the night. I was a little scared of this happening.

“Hey Thea,” Colby pulled me from my thoughts by tilting my chin so I faced him, “What’s on your mind, babe?”

“Just thinking about tonight,” I sighed as I leaned up to kiss him, “I’m a little scared.”

“Hey don’t be afraid,” Colby pulled me into his chest and rested his cheek against the top of my head, “Everything is going to be okay. I’ll live through this. It’s not my first full moon.”

“It’s mine though,” I protested, “It’s going to be unbearable for me to see you in pain. I won’t be able to do anything to make the pain stop.”

“Thea,” Colby kissed my forehead, “I promise I’ll be fine. I might be sore tomorrow, but then I get to have a reason to cuddle with you all day.”

We laid together up until the sun started to set. At that point, Colby and I loaded up into Roman’s car to drive out of the city and out into Ocala National Forest, miles outside Orlando and far from civilization. We had packed up a tent for me to spend the night in while the guys went running through the night. But my nerves were still getting to me.

“Alright ladies,” Roman smirked as he pulled up into a clearing to park his truck, “We’re here. Let’s get the tent pitched before we start turning.”

Dean hopped out first and went to grab the tent. Roman joined him in the back to grab the guys’ bags. Colby helped me out and I grabbed my bag and phone. Colby held me close to him as he watched Dean and Roman pitch my tent. Colby was leaving butterfly kisses on my forehead as he rubbed my back, trying to calm my nerves as best as he could.

“Alright tent is up,” Dean dusted off his hand before looking over to me and Colby, “We’ll be fine dollface, this isn’t our first rodeo. We’ll take care of you and loverboy.”

“Dean,” Colby warned him, “I’ll handle calming my girlfriend, thank you. Come on Thea, let’s get your bag into the tent okay.”

I let Colby take me to my tent. Once we were inside, I felt tears welling in my eyes. I was just so scared for Colby tonight. I still had nightmares from my magic nearly killing him and I wasn’t ready for this full moon either.

“Thea, babe,” Colby sat down in the middle of the tent and pulled me down into his lap, “I’m going to be okay. I promise you that I will live. You need to calm down before your magic starts to go awry. I don’t want you to hurt yourself with your magic. I know you’re scared, and that you’ve been having nightmares from when we first slept together, I’m not blind to your turmoil. But please, don’t be scared. I can’t handle you being so scared.”

“Can you stay with me tonight,” I asked, “After you turn anyway. I want to curl up and sleep with you. I don’t think I can handle sleeping alone.”

“Of course,” he replied.

That was when the alarm on my phone went off. The sun was now gone. And I saw Colby’s eyes go wide.

“It’s starting,” Colby groaned in pain like someone had hit him below the belt, “Thea, get across the tent.”

I obeyed and watched as Colby tore his clothes off as quickly as he could. I had to watch as he curled up into a ball before thrashing around as his bones shifted under his skin, screaming in pain. Colby looked at me with wide eyes, seeing them glow just like his wolf’s eyes. He groaned out as his face pushed out to start forming his muzzle. I looked at his back tattoo, watching as it disappeared from his fur growing in.

I decided to try using magic to help him. I focused on channeling a calming aura around the tent, trying to ease his pain as best as I could. Instead he screamed louder. It was like my magic was burning him.

“Thea, stop,” Colby begged, “Magic won’t work on me right now. It’ll make it worse.”

I immediately stopped and collapsed onto my knees. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I watched Colby suffer. I was so helpless and I wished I could help him. What was the point of having this magic when I couldn’t help the man I love?

Don’t beat yourself up over this. He’s a wolf. This is natural to be in pain on the full moon. Being a werewolf is a curse, not a blessing. He has to suffer for the sins of his ancestors.

No. You’re lying.

You know I’m right. I���m ancient. I knew the first werewolves.

Stop.

As I was lost in my mind, fighting with Morrigan. Colby had finished turning and he saw my pulling on my hair and sobbing. He could tell that Morrigan was taunting me, trying to take over. Trying to make my magic lash out and hurt me.

Thea don’t let her win.

She’s too strong this time. I can’t keep control.

Stay out of this, mutt. Or I will make her watch as I turn you into a rug.

Morrigan leave her alone!

Nope.

I felt her take control of my magic and blasted Colby away from me. I started to cry even harder as she laughed at me.

You’re weak.

No, she’s not. Thea, prove her wrong. Protect me from her.

Morrigan started to channel my magic to suck the air out of Colby, I heard him whimper and wheeze as he struggled to breathe. It was when I looked at Colby, seeing his wolf in so much pain, I had to regain control.

Leave him alone you bitch!

I commanded my magic to withdraw from hurting Colby. Sighing heavily as Colby started to take deep breaths again. Morrigan was silenced and I was back in total control. I ran over to Colby’s side and began to pet his fur, trying to channel some healing magic to help him recover from the damage Morrigan inflicted onto him.

I had all the faith in the world you would overtake her, for the record.

“Just relax okay,” I chided him, “You and I have been through hell just now. All I want is to curl up and sleep.”

Then get your sleeping bag ready and we’ll turn in. I’ll tell the guys to go run without me. I want to stay with you and make sure you’re okay tonight.

I obeyed him and got my sleeping bag laid out. I climbed into it, sighing heavily as I got settled. Colby trotted over and curled up into my side before he rested his chin on my shoulder.

Get some sleep, babe. I’ll be here all night, okay.

Colby and I were at the airport, waiting for our flight to allow boarding. I was exhausted. I was barely sleeping due to my nightmares from our first night together and our first full moon. I felt so bad for Colby because he was exhausted too. He was constantly woken up by me screaming in the middle of the night. I felt so guilty that I was letting everything get to me.

“Once we get to Indy,” Colby murmured as he held me into his side, rubbing my shoulder lovingly, “We’ll have a nice in at the hotel and watch some movies, okay. We’re going to forget everything that’s happened the last few weeks and we’ll get a good night sleep. I promise you, you are going to be safe. Even if we had to get you a new choker.”

“I don’t trust myself with my magic anymore,” I sighed heavily as I played with my new choker, “I’m so sorry I’m letting you down over this.”

“Hey you are not letting me down,” Colby kissed my hair, “You are doing what you need to do to control your magic. We’ll keep practicing okay, I’m not going to make you wear that choker for the rest of your life, okay. It’ll take time, but we’ll get there.”

Finally, the airport called for our flight to board. I rose from my seat and Colby stood from his and laced his fingers with mine as we walked to the gate. Now we just had to survive the weekend of Survivor Series.

And I had to soak up as much time as I could with Colby before I had to go back home to Orlando without him.

#seth rollins fanfic #seth rollins fic #seth rollins fanfiction #seth rollins x oc #werewolf!seth rollins #witch!oc #wwe fanfic #wwe fic #wwe fanfiction #supernatural/occult!au #magic and moonlight

[deepdisireslonging]

Family Found Part 44: Last Ambrose Standing

AKA ‘Fastlane and Burn’, Dean and the Reader’s conflict comes to a head. But when the final moments are in their hands, can they do what is necessary to win their Last Ambrose Standing match? The following Monday an old rival of the roster makes an appearance and a demand.

Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence, angst

Word Count: 4665

Note: I swear, my matches are only two paragraphs. But then you gotta have dialogue and some plot advancement, and suddenly there’s so much! It reads quick, or it did for me. And it was fun/angsty to write. If you like how things are going, or if this chapter made you cry, comments (anon or not) and reblogs are always super appreciated. Enjoy! [P.S.: For the record, I’ve had my WM planned since January. Any similarities to what’s actually happening on Raw is just chance.]

Part 1: Welcome to the Team

Part 43: It’s Official

Fastlane – March 10, 2019 – Green Bay, WI

Renee gave the online audience a bright smile. “And welcome to the road to WrestleMania! Fastlane is well underway, and it is almost time for the show to begin. But first, the Raw tag titles contenderships are on the line. Whoever wins this might be going to WrestleMania. It’s a bit of an odd mix going into this match.”

“Yes, it is,” Cole said. “The Revival and the B Team we’ve seen before in big events like this. But how do you think the new team of Dana Brook and Tyler Breeze are going to hold up?”

Corey whined back and forth. “I don’t know. They have both had established places in the WWE, but have been lost in the shuffle for the last several months. I’m curious to see how their plan will work to bring them back into the spotlight.”

“It’s time to see that plan in action,” Renee said as the aforementioned team entered. They received a loud pop from the crowd, though that was drowned out as the B Team, and then the Revival entered the arena.

They each took a corner, bouncing while waiting for the bell. But the stage lit up again. With the entrance of Kevin Owens.

“What!” Corey shouted. “Welcome back, but who is he going to tag with?”

Renee was almost bouncing in her seat. “I think I know who…”

The stage lit up in reds and black as Sami Zayn made his return to the WWE as well. He and Kevin shared a hug, soaking in their welcome from the crowd before going down to the ring. Inside, their opponents were complaining to the referee. But the match was being announced as a fatal four-way for the number one contender spot for the tag titles. Sami and Kevin took the last corner, with Kevin starting the match. He was instantly the target of everyone else in the ring. Sami helped him retreat through the ropes and they backed off, turning on each other.

Tagging in their other halves began. At Breeze’s tag, Dana went after Dawson before he could call in Wilder, and then engaged with Bo Dallas. Sami jumped in, working his way around the ring, knocking partners off the apron so they wouldn’t be available later. Curtis Axel fell the most dramatically. Kevin bided his time, crouching on the floor until Sami needed him. Then they traded while everyone else was exhausted and out. This continued to help them, all the way up to the pin. Sami jumped in, double pinning Bo under the referee’s count.

They celebrated their win, and their continued welcome back as the final preparations for Fastlane wrapped up.

***

Beginning Fastlane with a bang was the Raw Women’s Championship match between defending Ember Moon against Ruby Riott. Depending on who you asked, both women had lost before the bell had rung. Ember had reached her goal of title reign days, but she was still fighting to see how far she could go beyond that. Ruby had suffered losses for the last three weeks, but those losses had ignited enough of a fire that Ember was on the defense. Half-way through the match, both women sprawled out in the ring after a long combination of moves.

“I can’t leave this ring without that title,” Ruby muttered. Ember lifted her head up just enough to catch her eye. “If I can’t… if I can’t win titles, then why am I here?” Ruby wobbled to her hands and knees. “If I can’t… then how can I lead my friends?” She finally made it to her feet, though it looked like a puff of breath could knock her over.

Ember struggled to stand as well and held up her fists. “But what if you can? I’m not just going to give it to you, but you know what you’re fighting for. So fight. Because that’s what I’m here to do. Not for titles or for gold, but for my pride and to hear my name chanted by everyone in this arena. If I’m honest, I don’t think you will leave this ring with the title. I don’t think you have it in you.”

“But what if you’re wrong?” Ruby launched forward with another attack, reinvigorating the match. She pushed and she fought until her lungs burned and Ember’s eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion. With a scream, she threw everything else she had and fell on top of her opponent. One. Two. Three.

“And you’re new Raw Women’s Champion: Ruby Riott!”

Ruby fell to her knees with the title in her hands. She stayed there until Liv Morgan and Sarah Logan appeared by her sides and helped her to her feet where she could hold it high above her head.

***

Ruby stayed ringside for her teammates’ match against Mickie James and Alicia Fox for their tag titles. They moved like a team reborn. Liv’s bright hair caught Alicia in the face, inspiring her to laugh. Sarah mostly engaged with the veteran Mickie, fighting to endure the reserves of years of wrestling and maneuvers that hadn’t seen a ring in ages. Alicia fought back with her repertoire that soon had the Squad on the defense.

Then the mistakes came. Alicia, proud in how flat Sarah was laid in the ring, stepped to the ropes to haggle Ruby instead of going for the pin. Mickie frantically called for a pin or for a tag. But Liv sneaked up behind the teammate and swept her feet out from under her. Alicia heard the cry as she fell and twisted around in time for Sarah to catch her. The bell rang as the Squad retained their titles. As the champion trio, they stood in the ring as three of the most powerful women on the Raw roster.

***

For the number one Intercontinental contendership, Finn Balor and Dolph met in the ring. The palms of Finn’s hands were red, like the demon was desperate to get out but the man wouldn’t let him have full control. That made Dolph warry. One: why would he hold back with so much on the line? And two: how powerful was the man if he could hold back a demon king? He didn’t have much to think about it as Finn attacked. They were caught in a headlock until Dolph was forced back into the ropes. He glared at the ref from between them. Who cares who or what the man was? He was just a man.

The match danced from ring post to ring post along the ropes and round from the floor. Both men were showing how much they wanted even a chance at the title by how much damage they could take and dish out. Finn took it the best. Dolph struggled more and more to get to his feet after each assault. He remained flat on his back after barely kicking out of a pin. Climbing the turnbuckles, Finn went for a Coup de Grace. At the last possible second, Dolph moved, catching Finn in a roll-up. Out of sight of the ref, he used the ropes for a bit of extra leverage. It was enough. He made a hasty exit before Finn could figure out why he’d lost.

Backstage, Charly caught up with Dolph. “Having won your match, how soon do you want to face your former partner for a title match? Will we see it tomorrow, or on the grandest stage of them all at WrestleMania?”

Dolph continued to catch his breath while he thought. “I’m ready when Drew is. Tomorrow. Next week. WrestleMania. Whenever he thinks is his best chance to beat me, let’s go. I will be at my best because I am the best out of anyone on Raw.” He broke off as the champion himself walked up. He was dressed in a suit and had the title resting on his shoulder. Dolph did his best to get into his space and maybe get sweat onto the nice fabric.

“When will I be ready for you? I’d fight you right now, but I want ya after you’ve rested. After you’ve had a good night’s sleep. And then, when ya have ya strength and your full hubris back, I’m going to bury you in that ring. So, I’ll see you tomorrow Dolph. An’ the best man will win again, like I do every time.” He reached up and gave Dolph a heavy double pat on his cheek. “Sleep tight.” He smirked and walked away as Dolph growled after him.

***

Roman watched Dean finish taping up his hands. “You don’t have to go through with this, you know. She’s probably not doing this for the reasons you think.”

“And what would you know about it?” Dean spat. He grit his teeth and twisted his neck. “What you’ve seen from home is just the tip of the iceberg. And besides, she brought it up. I’m just finishing what she’s started.” Dean rolled his shoulders back. “If I had gotten in your way of taking the Universal, would you let Seth or the Usos talk me out of it?”

A long pause was his answer. Nodding, Dean walked away to enter the arena.

You followed shortly after, wearing the gear you’d made for Summer Slam. Really it was the only gear you had. At the same time, you hoped that Dean would see it and realize his cousin was still in it, and not some villain for him to slay.

There wasn’t much room for that hope. Before you’d even made it to the ring, you could see that Dean had his trusty kendo stick quiver wrapped over his shoulder. You entered the ring with only yourself. You had made the choices you did without weapons or premeditated woes. But once that bell rang, you would fight to defend your reasons.

The match happened in three stages. At first, it felt like any other sparring practice when learning with any of your friends-turned-trainers. You even forgot yourself and found a smile spreading across your face and a laugh escaping. Dean’s dimples made an appearance. Then the roar of the crowd brought you back to reality. The match turned real. You tried to win a pin as fast as possible. If you could do that before the very real devices under the ring came out, then maybe you wouldn’t regret this so much.

But the devices did come out. You grabbed a chair to use as a shield when Dean finally began to use his kendo stick. There was also a chain that you used like a whip to rip it out of his hands. Then he followed you into the ring. The chain became your means of keeping Dean away. Or keeping him close in a submission hold.

“Please, Dean,” you tried, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He struggled to detangle himself from the chain, effectively taking it from your hands in the process. “Is that an apology?”

“No.”

“Then we’re not done.”

It went on. Your hearts were no longer in it but you fought hard anyway. Dean’s practiced ingenuity was getting the best of you. Bringing in more things from under the ring wasn’t going to work. He’d been a hardcore wrestler; had the scars as proof. So you ended it like how they’d taught you to: find one weakness and target it. Somewhere in the scuffle Dean had developed a limp. You knew Seth would have some pointers, so you aimed for that injury. He couldn’t fight you if he couldn’t stand.

Dean was able to wobble onto his legs one last time. You climbed the turnbuckles, about to spin with your modified punch that Roman helped you with. Dean fell before you could finish setting up. The referee started the count.

“No!” You rushed down and tried to stop him. “I’m the general manager and I said stop!” He paused, looking past you to Dean. You didn’t look back. “Call off the match. It’s done. I lost.” While the shocked referee went to tell the bell box, you left the ring. It announced overhead, making you flinch.

With all of your might, you wanted to walk away without looking. But a tiny shard made you turn. He was staring at you. Not angry. Definitely not broken. Just… staring at you. Through you. It felt like no matter what you did from this moment on, you were damned. “I’m sorry, Dean,” you said, hopefully loud enough for him to believe you. “I’m so, so sorry.”

***

With the Universal Championship on the line, Seth Rollins and Mojo Rawley pulled out all the stops. Even since Monday, Mojo had found a new hold and a quick tackle that kept blindsiding Seth. The King Slayer would manage to kick out, then stand while shaking away the ringing in his ears. They re-met with a quick handshake. Seth dug deep too and borrowed one of Dean’s old submission holds that pinned Mojo’s arms far out of use with his knees. He rocked back and forth. This backfired as Mojo was able to use the moment to roll around and switch the tension. Seth had to release.

The submission holds gave way to the game of endurance. The universe had already seen Seth fight for over an hour multiple times. But Mojo held his own too. If the dream requires you to run from one side of the earth to the other, then you have to train to run around it twice to account for all the unforeseeable hurdles in between. Rawley kept Seth on his toes, knocking him out of the air and knocking out his ability to stand. He took a second to stare at the title resting in the lap of a techie in the bell box. Seth took it to use his remaining functioning limbs to cut Mojo down until he could end the match with a Curb Stomp. The Universal had been retained.

***

***

Monday Night Raw – March 11, 2019

You couldn’t start Raw without a little housekeeping first. Elias nodded as you continued speaking. “You see, you have to pick your WrestleMania opponent… tonight. I really should have had you pick before Fastlane but-“

“You were busy.”

The heat behind your cheeks simmered as you focused on breathing. “Yeah. Busy. But have you made a decision? That is… you have been thinking about it, right?”

Elias scoffed. “Of course. I’m going to challenge-“

He didn’t get to finish as a large hand grabbed the scruff of his scarf and shirt and tugged him away. Brock Lesnar stepped into his place. Paul Heyman hovered like a grinning shadow. “Good to see you, Ms. Ambrose. I hope you are having a lovely stress-free evening.” Paul somehow grinned wider.

“I was,” you mumbled. “Can I help you guys? Or are you just here to rough up my wrestlers?”

Brock chuckled and looked down to Paul. He took his cue to speak. “We won’t be here long as we’re not staying for the show. But my client, Brock Les-“

“We all know who your client is. Get to the point.”

“My client, Brock Lensar, is just here to ask for his title. And he’s going to ask nicely. This time.” Paul leaned closer to you. “You won’t be able to play him like you’ve been playing everyone here. He won’t be so nice then.” He leaned back with a smirk, posing with a hand crossed over his other wrist.

You switched your attention from Heyman to the Beast Incarnate. “I don’t know why you’re trying to be all dramatic and scary. You haven’t been here since… oh, Summer Slam? As far as I’m concerned, you don’t deserve a return.” The sass slipped from your voice. Your words scorched your throat. “But Vince McMahon called last week. Your match is already set. For WrestleMania. I was just about to inform your opponent.”

Brock smiled and nodded. He turned and walked out of your office with another word. For Elias’s sake, you hoped the drifter wouldn’t want into the Universal title picture.

***

In the ring, Drew McIntyre came to stand dead-center with his Intercontinental title over his shoulder. “We all know what’s planned for tanight. I am the champion. And I am goin’ to walk out of this ring… as champion. It wasn’t goin’ to matter who won at Fastlane, but ya know what? I’m glad it’s Dolph. He’s been impatiently waiting for his chance to get back at me for somethin’ that happened months ago.” Drew chuckled. “Honestly, I was willing to put it all behind me a while ago. But then he kept pushing. And kept gettin’ in the way. Fine. Now is the time of your destruction, Dolph. Now-“

Dolph entered early, saving the crowd from more of the monologue. For a second it looked like he was going to use the mic in his hands, but he dropped it instead. He marched down to the ring, fighting back a grimace as his pace tweaked a new sore spot. It did not go unnoticed.

They met at the bell. Eager to make it a quick match, Drew targeted the areas he knew that Finn had damaged. It didn’t go as quick as he hoped. And Dolph nearly caught him in a Zig Zag several times. But the targeting had done its job. Drew caught him with a Glasgow Kiss and barely had to work to pin him. Laughing he made his way up to the stage, picking up the mic Dolph dropped earlier.

“This is the best of Dolph Ziggler? This is the best of the Raw roster? Who could even think to step to me?” His smirk disappeared as Elias strummed onto the stage. Drew growled as the drifter stopped playing just long enough to poke at the title. Drew snatched it away and reared back for a punch. But Elias was quicker. And he had a longer reach with his guitar in hand. Wood fractured and splintered across the stage. Over Drew’s momentarily damaged body, Elias took up the title. He looked between it and his smashed guitar. Gingerly, he draped it over Drew, then walked away.

***

When the call came in that Dean had interrupted Seth’s entrance, you rushed to the ring. Dean was waiting for you sitting in a lone chair in the ring. “Well, that didn’t take long.”

“Please, can you not do this right now?”

You waved him away and tried to leave for backstage but he stood and leaned forward onto the ropes. “Why not? What’s so important that we can’t discuss what I got out of winning our match yesterday?”

With a huff, you rolled back your shoulders. “I just had to tell Seth before he came out here that his WrestleMania opponent is Brock Lesnar. And I… I really need a break.”

He waved you down to the ring, which you begrudgingly obliged. “One more headache and then you can find a hole to hide in. It seems to be an Ambrose thing. Since you’re handing out championship opportunities, why don’t you add one more person to that match? I think beating the general manager of Raw is pretty-“

“No.” With a grin, Dean stepped back from the ropes as you entered. “You didn’t pin me, and you didn’t make me tap. I surrendered. I surrendered so that I hopefully could put this all to rest. Please, Dean… I didn’t have a choice-“

“Yes, you did. All of us work our asses off to build this business, but the second that… the second that Lesnar wants something, he gets it. No questions asked.” Dean punched the side of his face as his blood began to boil. “But I’m asking questions. No, I’m done with questions. Now it’s time for demands. Put me in the match, Y/N!”

“No! You don’t know what you’re doing, Dean. There are levels of this that you can’t see.”

“What levels?” he spat. “Levels of you hurting my career to protect you from ‘favoritism’? Or of how much of your soul you’ve given to the remnants of the Authority.”

“Stop.” You walked away, but Dean’s voice followed you.

“No, I won’t. And if you don’t do what’s right, and put me in the spot that I deserve, then I am going to fight you. Not in the ring. We’ve already done that and seen what you’re willing to burn. No. I won’t stop usurping your precious plans and using my last breath to destroy the position you built over family.”

“Fine!” You spun around. Eyes flashing, your jaw ached from the tension. You focused on that tension, feeling it colliding with the pain that had settled into your bones over the past months. With a sigh, you accepted that it would probably never go away. It was all a split second, but the oceans of emotions drowned you eons ago. You laced your words with cold, unfeeling ice. “Dean Ambrose, as won by your match at Fastlane, you also have a spot in the Universal Championship match at WrestleMania. And may God forgive me… since you probably never will.”

Seth came rolling into the ring just as you finished. Dean bumped into him as you both turned towards your separate ways. “Why are you so hard on her, man?”

He barked a laugh. “Didn’t you hear her? We had all that destruction last night, and she didn’t change a bit. All of this is still for business. Nothing more. We’re just pawns. We could have been building momentum between us for weeks for another show stopper, but Brock comes in here and just walks into an opportunity.”

Struggling to get in a word, Seth said, “I don’t know. All of this feels weird. Something tells me there are outside forces here. I really think you should just listen to her and-“

“Don’t you have a match to get for?” Dean shot him down.

Seth bit back anything else he had to say. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Hissing out strained air, Seth let him leave and ran a hand through his hair.

***

As Dean stormed towards backstage, Apollo Crews came out for his match with Seth. He stayed on stage just long enough for your cousin to disappear, then smiled as Titus O’Neil joined him. They walked side-by-side to the ring with Apollo hoping onto the apron and Titus walking around to the back to do the same. Before they could enter the ring, Roman’s entrance took over the system. Battle lines drawn, the match was remade as a tag match.

Seth nodded towards the stage, asking about Dean. Roman shook his head. Backstage with a resolute deaf-to-reason Dean was not the best place to be. Not when he could help elsewhere.

It was like old times. Apollo and Titus seemed to forget their thundercloud-plan to take advantage of Seth. Or at least postponed it to another time when maybe he wouldn’t have backup on hand. Frazzled, the former team of Titus Worldwide struggled to stay afloat. Roman and Seth kept isolating each man, wearing him down so much that even after having a break, he couldn’t do much to relieve his partner. Seth ended up pinning Apollo, with Roman standing over Titus outside the ring where he’d been speared through a barricade.

***

“Now would you look at all this gold?” Ruby slapped the championship around her waist. To either side, Sarah and Liv snickered, adjusting their own titles on their shoulders. “We’ve said it several times, so you all should know by now, but the Riott Squad is the best there is on Monday Night Raw. And Fastlane just proved that once again.” She spun the mic around in her hands, watching the lights flicker over her title. “And this isn’t just for tonight. Or next week. Or just this month. Hell, the plan isn’t even to just ‘survive’ until WrestleMania. No. We are going to run this show, command that woman’s locker, and own these titles until somebody back there decides that they are good enough to even think about contending with us. Anyone back there is welcome to try. But we will run them into the ground, and we will do that every time someone steps to us! Whether it is for the Raw tag titles, or for the Raw women’s championship.” Ruby opened her arms for Liv and Sarah to perch under.

They were still laughing together when they were interrupted. Alexa Bliss walked out with Alicia Fox and Mickie James at her shoulders. Miss Bliss slow clapped until she was standing at the top of the ramp. “Congratulations, Ruby. No, really. That’s great. But your ladies have unfinished business with mine.”

Liv stepped up, accepting Ruby’s mic. “Um, that’s not the way we see it. Because… we beat them last night. Quickly, I might add.”

“No, no. Ruby, honey, you were a distraction to my team last night. And when Alicia was too busy making sure you wouldn’t interfere, your bubblegum haired pixie attacked Mickie James who wasn’t even tagged in at the time.” The ladies in question nodded along. “So I say, we’re not done.”

Ruby’s smile spread to a dangerous level, the kind that was inspired by a master plan. “Okay. Fine. But to ensure that none of us are a distraction to the other, why don’t we just put all the titles on the line. The Riott Squad versus… whatever you call your ragtag group.”

Despite the name-calling, Alexa matched her wicked smirk. “Deal.” She tossed the mic over her shoulder and joined Mickie and Alicia in the run down to the ring.

For the first good while, the sudden appearance of the trio had the Riott Squad scrambling to have a plan. It came back eventually like muscle memory. Having championship gold on the line, especially all of it, was a great motivator. Ruby’s mind worked quickly to move her team around so they could have more than just twenty-four hours as a triumphant team. Alexa misread one of her barked commands and tagged herself in. Sarah instead of Liv jumped into the ring, and Alexa was too deep into the ring to turn back. So she ran forward, half-reforming an attack that fell flat. Like she did onto her back a few seconds later. Ruby and Liv barreled forward to keep Mickie and Alicia from breaking the pin, which ensured the win.

Sarah shoved Alexa out of the ring so that they could all pose again with their retained championships.

***

Kevin and Sami had asked for the last few minutes of Raw to reintroduce themselves to the WWE Universe. You gave it to them easily. So they smiled and laughed, basking in the second welcome of the week. They were just lifting the mics to speak when AOP appeared from the audience and began to circle the ring. On the Titantron, Dr. M appeared from his deserted hospital.

“Did you really think that your shock return would guarantee a new life as a tag team? Kevin… Sami… your betrayal of each other runs deep. It will always be there, like a scar. And no tricks devised by you, or cleared by Y/N can cover them up. Tricks are superficial remedies to deep tissue secrets and doubts.”

Rezar and Akam finished circling the ring and came to stand at the base of the ramp.

“Secrets are the disease of the WWE. And Y/N has stepped into the role of Typhoid Mary. Not to worry… that will soon be cured. As well as the sudden arrival of the pestilence of Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens. The Authors of pain need no tricks, no snake oil to save the tag division.” The men turned their backs and walked back up the ramp as Dr. M finished. “So welcome back. But you will not enjoy your short stay.”

Part 45: Oncoming Storm 

Series Masterlist 

Masterlist 

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[goldenxlovers-blog]

Show Review: Monday Night Raw 15/10/18

MNR Review

Hello! Welcome to my first ever wrestling show review. A few administrative points before we get onto the actual show;

Firstly, this is my first time doing anything like this, so any kind of feedback or constructive criticism is highly appreciated. Secondly, this review is probably going to be quite lengthy due to Raw being 3 hours and there being a lot to discuss/mostly complain about. Lastly, this review is aimed at those who watch the product most weeks, so it is written assuming the reader knows the basic details of the show (commentators, ongoing storylines etc.), and I don’t plan to go through matches spot for spot unless something catches my eye particularly. Alright, lets get into the show!

 We kick off with Michael Cole welcoming us to Philadelphia, PA. The crowd is fired up which seems to be the norm for Philly in my experience, having been at the 2014 Royal Rumble, famous for Roman Reigns being boo’d out of the building. Braun, Dolph and Drew make their entrance together. Seeing someone like Dolph mimic Braun’s mannerisms is always funny to me. Before they start their promo the phrases ‘best in the world’ and ‘world cup’ have been mentioned at least 3 times and I feel this is going to be an ongoing complaint of mine. They cut a pretty standard promo about being the greatest 3 man group in history after beating The Shield last week and we get a replay of McIntyre kicking Ambrose’s head off. I’m starting to not care for The Shield as much but the story with Dean potentially turning and the good in-ring work is just about keeping me interested. Braun talks about his match at Crown Jewel but much like Cole earlier doesn’t mention the location due to the obvious controversy. Drew and Dolph both mention ‘best in the world’ yet again and we get a bit of dissention as they talk about facing off in the finals of the world cup. Seth and Roman finally appear on the stage, Seth drops a cheesesteak reference and after saying nothing of relevance declares he’ll face Drew in a qualifying match for the world cup right now.

 After adverts Drew/Seth kicks off which I’m very excited for since I like both guys a lot. They start with a nice wrestling sequence where Drew displays his obvious power advantage over Seth. Cole drops the ‘best in the world’ line once again and I die a bit inside. Drew gets Seth up for a powerbomb with a deadlift but gets countered. This spot was crazy smooth and I’m loving the ‘new’ McIntyre. Seth goes for the standard suicide dive but gets caught in a belly to belly on the outside. Again I wasn’t planning to go spot for spot but this match has started really hot. Dolph runs down to cause the distraction and Seth gets tossed into the bars beneath the ring, another great spot. After some back and forth including a great falcon arrow counter, Seth takes out both Drew and Dolph with a suicide dive each and Dean runs out to counter Ziggler’s interference. All 4 men fight outside and Drew gets curb stomped leading to a count-out victory for Seth. Great TV match between 2 guys who can certainly go, finish was a bit flat for me but I encourage you to watch this.

 After a break we get a backstage promo from The Shield where Seth slips and calls Ambrose a lunatic. Ambrose talks about only being good for laughs despite always backing up Seth/Roman and it makes me long for the Ambrose turn.

 We see a replay of DX’s promo from last week followed by a spooky Brothers of Destruction promo. I’m sort of excited for this match but I can’t take Kane seriously with this gear and DX doesn’t really work as a concept when both members are old corporate suits. This promo was completely standard boring nostalgia bait, but I understand some people like that.

 Ember Moon is out next and yells down the camera like a mong ruining her entrance. Nia Jax appears and is apparently Ember’s tag partner. Back from ads and Tamina and Dana Brooke are in the ring. Cole mentions how this is Tamina’s return from injury and she doesn’t even get an entrance. Commentary shill a battle royale for the Evolution PPV featuring some of the best women in the company which I feel is slightly ridiculous. People like Asuka and Ember are far better than a battle royale, even Carmella has been improving leaps and bounds and should be featured more. This match is standard tag fare, when Nia and Tamina are in the ring together it really drags. Dana gets tagged in and eats the Eclipse for 3, thank god. After the match the women do that stupid spot where they throw people over the ropes before a battle royale just to show it’s possible. I’ve very quickly come down from the high of the first match.

 We get a little video package of The Bellas turning on Ronda last week. Ronda makes her entrance smiling ear to ear which I dislike in such a personal feud as this. Once she grabs a mic she stops smiling for a second until the crowd chants for her and she cracks again. Ronda stumbles through her promo and The Bellas appear on the stage. They cut a promo about disrespect which is the second one of the show. According to The Bellas they made the word ‘diva’ mean something. Ronda sort of interrupts but literally just asks if they have anything else to say. She then talks about ‘sister soldiers’ and then rags on the Bellas for leeching off the names of their men which is the best line of the promo. ‘The only door you ever knocked down was the one to John Cena’s bedroom’, brutal. That causes Nikki Bella to spring into action by ripping off her shirt and twirling her arse for some reason. A security team come out and all die by Ronda’s hands. That was arduous. I think Ronda is great in the ring for how little she’s wrestled but my god are her promos awful.

 They show a replay of big gold condom Kurt Angle winning the battle royale from last week which flows into a backstage promo with Kurt Angle in vacation gear. I refuse to believe that man doesn’t take his singlets on holiday. Acting GM Baron Corbin makes a match with Angle against The Authors of Pain later tonight.

 Finally we get another match after suffering through that Bella promo. Luckily for me it’s Ambrose/Ziggler and I suddenly become interested in the show again. Dolph makes his entrance and for some reason he’s wearing a hoodie instead of his cool silver jacket from earlier. Michael Cole once again drops that bloody ‘best in the world’ line and at this point I’m looking for something to hang myself from. Ambrose snapmares Dolph and smacks him with a few crossfaces. I love Ambrose’s new style since his return matching his increased bulk. We get some standard TV match back and forth until Dean goes to the top rope and gets countered into an X-Factor. Dean lands kinda awkwardly on his feet first but the move looks fine and he doesn’t seem to be injured. Weirdly it’s at this point that the crowd die, I’m surprised they held on this long. Ambrose hits Dolph with the Hook and Ladder, a move from his indy wrestling days which he seems to be bringing back, and it looks really good. Drew runs out for some interference similarly to earlier and Rollins follows. Seth ends up distracting Dean and Dolph gets the superkick for the 3 count. This was a good TV match but I’m slightly bias since I love both guys. Ziggler winning was likely the right decision since most of the world cup field thus far was face.

 Post-match Dean walks away but Seth gives chase almost leading to a brawl until Roman separates them. Corbin comes out and makes The Shield versus Braun, Dolph and Drew for the main event, for the 3rd show in a row. Roman stares daggers through Corbin. I’d like these two in a real feud at some point, maybe not for the belt though.

 Mixed Match Challenge competitors Finn Balor and Bayley enter together. Finn is far better than this and I wish they’d do something with him. Backstage we get a little promo with Braun and his squad, basically the same thing as last week with Braun warning them not to screw up. Jinder and his crew are here wrestling Finn yet again. Bayley attempts to get a slow clap going to no reaction at all. Finn mercifully wins a completely nothing match with the Coup De Grace, please never let these two wrestle again. Randomly Bobby Lashley and Lio Rush make their way down to the ring. Lashley does some poses in the corner and Lio Rush spouts some weird lines about nobody smelling like Lashley. Finn literally just leaves without any trouble. Silly me for thinking they’d actually give Finn a decent storyline.

 We come back from the break to Tyler Breeze getting ready to be sacrificed to the giant baby god Lashley. After even more poses from Bobby Breeze actually gets a shot in which surprised me. Lashley hits a Yokosuka cutter which looks really good, weird that he’s randomly switched from the Dominator he used to do to this but I like it.

 Trish and Lita are out next for even more nostalgia. It’s lost on me since I didn’t watch in the Attitude Era but it’s nice for the live crowd if nothing else. Lita says one sentence then Alexa Bliss and Mickie James make their way out. James is dressed like Bliss and it looks like granny is trying way too hard. Alexa is a great promo and it’s no different here but Mickie is just very cringey. Trish and Lita try and appeal to a younger market and say the word ‘practice’ about 50 times. Nothing happens as per usual.

 Some random is wearing Kurt’s big gold condom and wrestling the Authors of Pain. After this guy dies Kurt appears behind Corbin on the stage and barely gets him up for the Angle slam. Their match will probably be fine, but that’s more because I still enjoy Kurt Angle.

 Riott Squad randomly pour condiments over Natalya’s dressing room door and Liv Morgan makes a noise like a dog being kicked. What was the point of this.

 Riott Squad are out after another break. Natalya comes out next holding a microphone and I’m scared. Natalya is completely fine in the ring but should be nowhere near a mic. She cuts a bad promo and brings out Bayley and Sasha Banks as back up. Cole screams ‘IT’S BOSS TIME’ and suddenly I don’t hate the ‘best in the world’ stuff anymore. I’m a big fan of the Riott Squad especially Ruby but I couldn’t begin to care about Natalya or this match. Nattie gets Ruby in the Sharpshooter and all the women brawl with the faces standing tall. I’m conscious that this review may paint me as disliking women’s wrestling as a whole but it’s more than most of the women’s segments on this show have been questionable at best.

 Here’s Elias next, he cuts a promo about the future and John Cena and rags on Philly and what I assume is a sporting mascot of some kind. I love Elias but he’s starting to wear a bit thin for me. I feel like they either need to do something of note with him or not, stop letting him stagnate. Apollo Crews of all people interrupts. He cuts a promo about how he can’t sing and he isn’t that funny and he’s not wrong. Crews is sick of people passing him by, and while I don’t rate him that highly, I’m all for new people getting a chance. Apollo hits an impressive military press causing Elias to flee. Pretty standard stuff here but at least it’s someone new.

 Finally we’re at the main event. Braun, Drew and Dolph make their entrance together same as earlier and Dolph is back to the sick jacket rather than the hoodie. The Shield come out through the crowd and must fight through a sea of twats. Dean and Seth start off doing tag moves like nothing happened until Ziggler pushes Rollins into Dean and the tension starts again. Reigns manages to get a chant for himself while Ziggler is getting heat on him. Philly is not where I imagined Roman would actually get a positive chant. Braun and Drew tag themselves in a couple times and argue giving Reigns time to recover and hit a samoan drop on Braun. After a bit more standard action Roman finally makes a tag and Seth and Dean run wild taking out all 3 opponents. Ambrose hits Dirty Deeds on Drew but Dolph breaks up the pin with Seth’s body. Seth and Dean get into a bit of a brawl as Dolph hits the Zig Zag for a close 2 count. Roman dodges a claymore kick from Drew and sends him flying into Braun. Dolph eats the triple powerbomb for the 3 count and The Shield embrace and leave. After the match Braun yells at Ziggler for screwing up and not carrying his weight and murders him with a powerslam. Drew nails Braun with a claymore kick and stands tall. I think from an in ring standpoint this match was the weakest of the 3 these teams have had but story-wise it was great. I didn’t want to get this deep into all the spots of the match but there was so much story ground to cover I couldn’t really help it.

 Overall this show was a bit of a drag to get through but that’s not shocking from a 3 hour show. Whilst there were many highlights like the Shield storyline and matches, the women’s segments were poorly planned and executed and made the show feel far longer than it was. If I had the choice I’d give this show a miss, definitely not a must-watch Raw.

#wrestling #wwe raw #monday night raw #wwe #review #seth rollins #dean ambrose #roman reigns

[fangirlmomentsandmytwocents]

The Wolf of Winterthorne by Tracy Goodwin #FREE

Title: The Wolf of Winterthorne Series: Scandalous Secrets #4 Author: Tracy Goodwin Genre: Adult, Historical Romance Published: August 23, 2016

Logan Ambrose has endured a tortured existence. After learning how to fend for himself at a young age, he eventually amassed power and wealth. His fortune came at an extreme cost, as rising from poverty often does. Branded, he wears his sins on his marred flesh. Each scar represents a past he doesn't wish to remember, the ruthless man he holds at bay, the tortured soul who would do anything to survive. Bruised, battered and bloodied, Arabella Sutton is a woman lost. With no recollection of who she is or what terrors she suffered, she stumbles onto the imposing Winterthorne estate running from those who hunt her, haunted by the memory of her bloodied hands holding a blade and wearing a bracelet monogrammed with the initial S. When she stumbles into Logan’s arms, he recognizes her instantly. She is one of two women he once knew: Arabella or her twin sister, Sybil. One he dared to love years ago, though he now despises them equally. Logan recognizes her bracelet as belonging to Sybil … the last woman he wished to see. While Arabella must overcome the loss of her memories, she is drawn to the brooding and menacing master of Winterthorne who knows much more about her past than he is willing to admit. Meanwhile, Logan is assailed with memories of his lost love while offering protection to the woman he believes to be her vicious twin, the woman who once reveled in making his life miserable, all the while fighting against the strong attraction that pulls him towards his charge and the reminders of Arabella that she rekindles in his hardened heart. As Arabella pieces together her past, scandalous secrets come to light and Logan will stop at nothing to save his beloved from the dangerous machinations of her evil identical twin. Together, Logan and Arabella rekindle a romance they long thought extinguished. Meanwhile, they concoct a grand scheme to unmask Sybil and rescue Arabella from her sister’s misdeeds. Can they protect Arabella from peril and assure their future before it is too late?

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"Every time I read one of Tracy Goodwin's beautifully written novels, her words and unforgettable characters steal a little piece of my heart. Her books are exquisite and totally addictive." --SUSAN DUERDEN, AWARD WINNING FEATURE FILM/TELEVISION ACTRESS AND NARRATOR "Tracy Goodwin is a promising new voice in historical romance." --BARBARA DAWSON SMITH, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR "Tracy Goodwin is definitely an author to look out for. She writes a sensual and clever novel that makes for an enjoyable read." --WW BOOK CLUB BLURBS, PUBLISHER'S WEEKLY, BARBARA VEY BLOG

The Wolf of Winterthorne © Tracy Goodwin 2016 Chapter 1 1851 Northamptonshire, England Her lungs burned as she raced farther into the darkness, the stench of decaying leaves and brush assailing her nostrils until she thought she might retch. Help me … The words wedged in her throat, which was raw from a mixture of sheer panic and dehydration. Had she screamed? Why couldn’t she remember? Her mind was muddled in a murky abyss, helped none by the ominous clouds sheathing the moon, casting foreboding shadows across her path. Recollections she couldn’t decipher haunted her in the form of shapes she couldn’t comprehend and occurrences she couldn’t quite piece together. Swallowing hard, she attempted to speak but, again, no words formed. Panic rose as the ringing in her ears heightened to a shrill crescendo. She struggled to breathe, her corset constricting her airflow, reducing her panting to swift, shallow breaths. Why couldn’t she breathe? Why couldn’t she remember? What did she recall? Being hunted. Yes, men who wished her harm were chasing her. That was her reality. As was the fact that her predators must be close. What if they overheard her trudging through the woods? What if they, too, could hear her ragged lungs as they strained to inhale, though with little success? The possibilities sent her senses reeling. Clutching a low-lying branch, she wrapped her fingers around its rough, spindly bark. Leaning against it, she allowed herself one moment to gather her wits. Swooning in the forest wouldn’t save her life. No, it would hasten her demise. Breathe. She silently instructed herself. Breathe then run. Run for your life. She shoved herself away from the branch and sprinted as fast as she could before stumbling on a protruding root. Pain radiated from her hand as she clumsily righted herself against a large tree trunk. Her palm was wet and sticky, the thick, rugged bark having slashed her skin. Grinding her teeth, she grabbed her skirts then propelled herself farther into obscurity. Do not trip. It was her silent command as she veered across the uneven terrain, hard from the early freeze. Ruts and indentations challenged her at every step as did the thick roots, sturdy and unrelenting, that stretched across the landscape. Stalking her. Like the men who sought to kill her. She could not evade them. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how careful she was. The roots, like those men who chased her, continued to hound her, continued to creep towards her, surrounding her at every turn. Again she tripped, this time landing on her knees with a loud grunt she could no longer suppress. Dear God, it is cold. 3 She wore no cloak. Just a simple muslin gown and skirts. No boots, just slippers. Her toes, which once ached, were now numb. The frigid temperature seeped into her body, into every limb and muscle. Nature appeared to want her dead as much as those in pursuit. Choking back a sob, a puff of air swirled like vapor from her mouth into the icy shadows. The bitter cold and damp night enveloped her. The more she knelt on the ground, the more the frost assailed her body, causing her to sway as she tried desperately to stand. Every joint stiffened, as if frozen in place. Her teeth had begun to chatter as she crawled to the silhouette of what appeared to be a tree trunk. Or perchance a log? The closer she got, the smaller it appeared. White spots blurred her vision as realization set in. She was close to losing consciousness. God, please help me, she prayed in silence. Don’t let them catch me. They will kill me. Managing to stand on shaky legs, she staggered forward. A sharp limb clawed at her face and a wet, sticky substance began a slow decent down her cheek. Blood. Her blood. It trickled into her mouth, the thick, metallic taste causing her to gag. Another root grabbed hold of her foot, causing her ankle to give way as she collapsed against the frozen dirt, entwined branches and bark. This time, no grunt escaped her lips. Instead she lay still, mouth agape. Help me … In addition to a searing pain in her ribcage, her ankle now throbbed as she leaned against her arms until they gave way under her weight. She flopped on her side, the waves of pain crushing against her ribcage, her ankle, her cheek, her every limb. The thought of lying on the frigid ground beneath her, remaining in this very spot, became overwhelmingly tempting. Stay still and die – before they find me. Yes, perhaps she would freeze to death. Perhaps she would simply fall asleep and the pain would cease. But what if she was discovered before the cold spindly fingers of death clung to her? Her heart pumped faster, harder, at the thought of the pain they would inflict. Those faceless men, whose blunt, menacing voices she would recognize until the moment she inhaled her last breath. What had they said? That they wanted her dead … that they would kill her. Yes, they sounded excited at the prospect. That she remembered, along with their many questions. She shivered. Those men demanded answers to so many questions. About a man she did not know, whose name she could not recall. She possessed no answers and that made them more eager to kill her. Clutching her side, she managed to rise and stumble farther into the black abyss of night. Tripping again, her feet becoming more and more entangled as she bumped into tree trunks, unable to keep her bearings. What direction did she come from? Where was she heading? She squinted in an attempt to clear her vision. Her eyes darted, unable to discern her path. A dog barked in the distance, the sound causing her to jump and head in the opposite direction. Though she was now limping, she continued to wobble forward. Don’t look back. 4 Never look back. Wiping her cheek, her blood flowed freely onto her palm. It was a welcome distraction from the pain as she found a clearing up ahead. Though cast in an intimidating gloom, it appeared to be a straight path. Her pace quickened as she hurried forward, one step at a time. Gritting her teeth, she gained momentum by reminding herself of the imminent danger. They are coming for me. They will kill me. Run! Dashing past one tree, then weaving past another, she was almost to the clearing when she ran straight into a solid mass. Strong, firm, he clutched her shoulders as her pulse pommeled against her temples. They caught me! They will kill me. She struggled to free herself. Though the man had a firm grip, it wasn’t the least bit excruciating. Her predators would wish her pain. They would be rough, violent – they would have already blindfolded her as they did once before. Was this man one of them? Searching the stranger’s face, she noted the hard, angular jaw and cheekbones, deep-set onyx eyes and a deadened slash of skin spanning his cheekbone. Even cast in a dark silhouette, the scar was discernable. The stranger clutched her shoulders, studying her with a mixture of concern and … Could it be recognition? “Bella?” he whispered. The voice was unfamiliar – it belonged to no one she had heard tonight, but that didn’t mean that he was not one of her abductors. Perhaps he had remained silent … Or perhaps he was her only hope of safety. Perhaps this man was the difference between life and death. Again, she tried to form the words. Though her mouth remained dry as ash, she refused to relent. After another failed attempt, her voice ignited at last from the cinders. Hoarse and no louder than a whisper, her words were audible nonetheless. “Help me,” she managed before her knees buckled. Collapsing in the stranger’s arms, her eyes blurred as she heard him mutter, “Bloody hell.” His was a low baritone, smooth, even in his present predicament. Drifting in and out of lucidity, she could feel the man lift her in one fluid motion, her head now resting against his chest. Though her eyes refused to open, no matter how hard she attempted the once simple task, she knew that he wore a greatcoat because its buttons pressed against her uninjured cheek. She was certain they left impressions in her flesh. Struggling to open her eyes, her head bobbed to the rhythm of his quick strides. It wasn’t until her head swung backwards that she managed to peer through narrow slits. It was dark, the sky thick with murky clouds. There were too many clouds tonight. Too much darkness. She wished there were stars. She liked the constellations. She missed the comfort they provided. The man whistled and the patter of paws approached from behind. The dog was panting, though the man who carried her proceeded to wherever he was headed with no labored breathing. In fact, it was as if she were nothing more than a flimsy piece of fabric in his hands. 5 This man was physically fit. At least she knew something about him. He was also calm under duress. Now she had unlocked a second clue to her savior’s personality. Though he showed no signs of physical exertion, his timbre was strong, composed. “Adolphus, fetch someone from the house. Run, boy. Bark and get their attention. Go!” His instructions were issued in a quick staccato. This man was familiar with issuing commands. Something in the recesses of her mind suggested she must keep track of these clues and wished she had paper and ink. Though it was an urgent thought, it soon became overpowered by her racing heart and the searing pain slicing through her temple. Dear God, her head hurt. Ensconced in a bleak reality, her eyes drifted shut again. What if her attackers were following her? She opened her mouth to warn her companion but coughed, choking on her blood. “Steady,” he assured her, holding her closer against his chest. “We’re almost home.” Home? Again, she managed to open her eyes, though only slightly. Squinting to right her blurry vision, she managed to discern the menacing outline of a massive estate. The closer they approached, the more sinister it appeared. Eyes watched from the rafters. Whose? She struggled to adjust her vision. Wolves. Yes, wolves were perched on the pediments, carved in the stone of the parapets. Their eyes glowed white, even in the dead of night. Their gaze bore into her soul, following her. Ever watchful. Ever menacing. Could this truly be her safe haven? The profile of a raven perched atop a spindly tree limb grabbed her attention. It cawed, its warning quite clear. Beware. The sleek bird with its foreboding message added to the commanding illusion of the house. Large, made with dark stone, illuminated in a ghostly hue cast by ominous clouds. Where am I? What is this imposing place? She was reminded of an Edgar Allan Poe poem – how could she remember the macabre works of a poet and nothing about herself? Still, remember she did. This world she had entered was filled with the watchful stare of wolves, ravens, and a scarred man whose appearance was perhaps even more daunting than the structure in which he resided. A fine mist began to fall from the overcast skies as her stomach churned, a knot of apprehension coiling in her abdomen. She feared that she had unwittingly stepped into more danger than before. Drifting into unconsciousness, she managed a silent prayer. Dear God, protect me…

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Audible US Brilliance Audio CD

Amazon Amazon CA Amazon UK Amazon AU

Audible US Brilliance Audio CD

Amazon Amazon CA Amazon UK Amazon AU

Audible US Brilliance Audio CD

Tracy Goodwin is an international bestselling and award winning author. Throughout a career spanning a decade, she has achieved both traditional and Indie publishing success. Her works include a series of sweeping historical romances fraught with passion, hope, danger, and redemption. In addition, she has penned page turning young adult urban fantasy and paranormal novels. Though the genres may be different, each story delivers her unique blend of poignant emotion, suspense, action, humor, and unforgettable characters that steal readers’ hearts. To receive the latest news and information about upcoming releases, please sign up for Tracy’s newsletter at tracygoodwin.com or join Tracy’s Lantern Ladies Facebook group where you can chat with her and have the opportunity to win exclusive swag.

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#Tracy Goodwin

[fangirlmomentsandmytwocents]

The Wolf of Winterthorne by Tracy Goodwin #FREE

Title: The Wolf of Winterthorne Series: Scandalous Secrets #4 Author: Tracy Goodwin Genre: Adult, Historical Romance Published: August 23, 2016

Logan Ambrose has endured a tortured existence. After learning how to fend for himself at a young age, he eventually amassed power and wealth. His fortune came at an extreme cost, as rising from poverty often does. Branded, he wears his sins on his marred flesh. Each scar represents a past he doesn't wish to remember, the ruthless man he holds at bay, the tortured soul who would do anything to survive. Bruised, battered and bloodied, Arabella Sutton is a woman lost. With no recollection of who she is or what terrors she suffered, she stumbles onto the imposing Winterthorne estate running from those who hunt her, haunted by the memory of her bloodied hands holding a blade and wearing a bracelet monogrammed with the initial S. When she stumbles into Logan’s arms, he recognizes her instantly. She is one of two women he once knew: Arabella or her twin sister, Sybil. One he dared to love years ago, though he now despises them equally. Logan recognizes her bracelet as belonging to Sybil … the last woman he wished to see. While Arabella must overcome the loss of her memories, she is drawn to the brooding and menacing master of Winterthorne who knows much more about her past than he is willing to admit. Meanwhile, Logan is assailed with memories of his lost love while offering protection to the woman he believes to be her vicious twin, the woman who once reveled in making his life miserable, all the while fighting against the strong attraction that pulls him towards his charge and the reminders of Arabella that she rekindles in his hardened heart. As Arabella pieces together her past, scandalous secrets come to light and Logan will stop at nothing to save his beloved from the dangerous machinations of her evil identical twin. Together, Logan and Arabella rekindle a romance they long thought extinguished. Meanwhile, they concoct a grand scheme to unmask Sybil and rescue Arabella from her sister’s misdeeds. Can they protect Arabella from peril and assure their future before it is too late?

Amazon Amazon CA Amazon UK Amazon AU

Audible US Brilliance Audio CD

"Every time I read one of Tracy Goodwin's beautifully written novels, her words and unforgettable characters steal a little piece of my heart. Her books are exquisite and totally addictive." --SUSAN DUERDEN, AWARD WINNING FEATURE FILM/TELEVISION ACTRESS AND NARRATOR "Tracy Goodwin is a promising new voice in historical romance." --BARBARA DAWSON SMITH, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR "Tracy Goodwin is definitely an author to look out for. She writes a sensual and clever novel that makes for an enjoyable read." --WW BOOK CLUB BLURBS, PUBLISHER'S WEEKLY, BARBARA VEY BLOG

The Wolf of Winterthorne © Tracy Goodwin 2016 Chapter 1 1851 Northamptonshire, England Her lungs burned as she raced farther into the darkness, the stench of decaying leaves and brush assailing her nostrils until she thought she might retch. Help me … The words wedged in her throat, which was raw from a mixture of sheer panic and dehydration. Had she screamed? Why couldn’t she remember? Her mind was muddled in a murky abyss, helped none by the ominous clouds sheathing the moon, casting foreboding shadows across her path. Recollections she couldn’t decipher haunted her in the form of shapes she couldn’t comprehend and occurrences she couldn’t quite piece together. Swallowing hard, she attempted to speak but, again, no words formed. Panic rose as the ringing in her ears heightened to a shrill crescendo. She struggled to breathe, her corset constricting her airflow, reducing her panting to swift, shallow breaths. Why couldn’t she breathe? Why couldn’t she remember? What did she recall? Being hunted. Yes, men who wished her harm were chasing her. That was her reality. As was the fact that her predators must be close. What if they overheard her trudging through the woods? What if they, too, could hear her ragged lungs as they strained to inhale, though with little success? The possibilities sent her senses reeling. Clutching a low-lying branch, she wrapped her fingers around its rough, spindly bark. Leaning against it, she allowed herself one moment to gather her wits. Swooning in the forest wouldn’t save her life. No, it would hasten her demise. Breathe. She silently instructed herself. Breathe then run. Run for your life. She shoved herself away from the branch and sprinted as fast as she could before stumbling on a protruding root. Pain radiated from her hand as she clumsily righted herself against a large tree trunk. Her palm was wet and sticky, the thick, rugged bark having slashed her skin. Grinding her teeth, she grabbed her skirts then propelled herself farther into obscurity. Do not trip. It was her silent command as she veered across the uneven terrain, hard from the early freeze. Ruts and indentations challenged her at every step as did the thick roots, sturdy and unrelenting, that stretched across the landscape. Stalking her. Like the men who sought to kill her. She could not evade them. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how careful she was. The roots, like those men who chased her, continued to hound her, continued to creep towards her, surrounding her at every turn. Again she tripped, this time landing on her knees with a loud grunt she could no longer suppress. Dear God, it is cold. 3 She wore no cloak. Just a simple muslin gown and skirts. No boots, just slippers. Her toes, which once ached, were now numb. The frigid temperature seeped into her body, into every limb and muscle. Nature appeared to want her dead as much as those in pursuit. Choking back a sob, a puff of air swirled like vapor from her mouth into the icy shadows. The bitter cold and damp night enveloped her. The more she knelt on the ground, the more the frost assailed her body, causing her to sway as she tried desperately to stand. Every joint stiffened, as if frozen in place. Her teeth had begun to chatter as she crawled to the silhouette of what appeared to be a tree trunk. Or perchance a log? The closer she got, the smaller it appeared. White spots blurred her vision as realization set in. She was close to losing consciousness. God, please help me, she prayed in silence. Don’t let them catch me. They will kill me. Managing to stand on shaky legs, she staggered forward. A sharp limb clawed at her face and a wet, sticky substance began a slow decent down her cheek. Blood. Her blood. It trickled into her mouth, the thick, metallic taste causing her to gag. Another root grabbed hold of her foot, causing her ankle to give way as she collapsed against the frozen dirt, entwined branches and bark. This time, no grunt escaped her lips. Instead she lay still, mouth agape. Help me … In addition to a searing pain in her ribcage, her ankle now throbbed as she leaned against her arms until they gave way under her weight. She flopped on her side, the waves of pain crushing against her ribcage, her ankle, her cheek, her every limb. The thought of lying on the frigid ground beneath her, remaining in this very spot, became overwhelmingly tempting. Stay still and die – before they find me. Yes, perhaps she would freeze to death. Perhaps she would simply fall asleep and the pain would cease. But what if she was discovered before the cold spindly fingers of death clung to her? Her heart pumped faster, harder, at the thought of the pain they would inflict. Those faceless men, whose blunt, menacing voices she would recognize until the moment she inhaled her last breath. What had they said? That they wanted her dead … that they would kill her. Yes, they sounded excited at the prospect. That she remembered, along with their many questions. She shivered. Those men demanded answers to so many questions. About a man she did not know, whose name she could not recall. She possessed no answers and that made them more eager to kill her. Clutching her side, she managed to rise and stumble farther into the black abyss of night. Tripping again, her feet becoming more and more entangled as she bumped into tree trunks, unable to keep her bearings. What direction did she come from? Where was she heading? She squinted in an attempt to clear her vision. Her eyes darted, unable to discern her path. A dog barked in the distance, the sound causing her to jump and head in the opposite direction. Though she was now limping, she continued to wobble forward. Don’t look back. 4 Never look back. Wiping her cheek, her blood flowed freely onto her palm. It was a welcome distraction from the pain as she found a clearing up ahead. Though cast in an intimidating gloom, it appeared to be a straight path. Her pace quickened as she hurried forward, one step at a time. Gritting her teeth, she gained momentum by reminding herself of the imminent danger. They are coming for me. They will kill me. Run! Dashing past one tree, then weaving past another, she was almost to the clearing when she ran straight into a solid mass. Strong, firm, he clutched her shoulders as her pulse pommeled against her temples. They caught me! They will kill me. She struggled to free herself. Though the man had a firm grip, it wasn’t the least bit excruciating. Her predators would wish her pain. They would be rough, violent – they would have already blindfolded her as they did once before. Was this man one of them? Searching the stranger’s face, she noted the hard, angular jaw and cheekbones, deep-set onyx eyes and a deadened slash of skin spanning his cheekbone. Even cast in a dark silhouette, the scar was discernable. The stranger clutched her shoulders, studying her with a mixture of concern and … Could it be recognition? “Bella?” he whispered. The voice was unfamiliar – it belonged to no one she had heard tonight, but that didn’t mean that he was not one of her abductors. Perhaps he had remained silent … Or perhaps he was her only hope of safety. Perhaps this man was the difference between life and death. Again, she tried to form the words. Though her mouth remained dry as ash, she refused to relent. After another failed attempt, her voice ignited at last from the cinders. Hoarse and no louder than a whisper, her words were audible nonetheless. “Help me,” she managed before her knees buckled. Collapsing in the stranger’s arms, her eyes blurred as she heard him mutter, “Bloody hell.” His was a low baritone, smooth, even in his present predicament. Drifting in and out of lucidity, she could feel the man lift her in one fluid motion, her head now resting against his chest. Though her eyes refused to open, no matter how hard she attempted the once simple task, she knew that he wore a greatcoat because its buttons pressed against her uninjured cheek. She was certain they left impressions in her flesh. Struggling to open her eyes, her head bobbed to the rhythm of his quick strides. It wasn’t until her head swung backwards that she managed to peer through narrow slits. It was dark, the sky thick with murky clouds. There were too many clouds tonight. Too much darkness. She wished there were stars. She liked the constellations. She missed the comfort they provided. The man whistled and the patter of paws approached from behind. The dog was panting, though the man who carried her proceeded to wherever he was headed with no labored breathing. In fact, it was as if she were nothing more than a flimsy piece of fabric in his hands. 5 This man was physically fit. At least she knew something about him. He was also calm under duress. Now she had unlocked a second clue to her savior’s personality. Though he showed no signs of physical exertion, his timbre was strong, composed. “Adolphus, fetch someone from the house. Run, boy. Bark and get their attention. Go!” His instructions were issued in a quick staccato. This man was familiar with issuing commands. Something in the recesses of her mind suggested she must keep track of these clues and wished she had paper and ink. Though it was an urgent thought, it soon became overpowered by her racing heart and the searing pain slicing through her temple. Dear God, her head hurt. Ensconced in a bleak reality, her eyes drifted shut again. What if her attackers were following her? She opened her mouth to warn her companion but coughed, choking on her blood. “Steady,” he assured her, holding her closer against his chest. “We’re almost home.” Home? Again, she managed to open her eyes, though only slightly. Squinting to right her blurry vision, she managed to discern the menacing outline of a massive estate. The closer they approached, the more sinister it appeared. Eyes watched from the rafters. Whose? She struggled to adjust her vision. Wolves. Yes, wolves were perched on the pediments, carved in the stone of the parapets. Their eyes glowed white, even in the dead of night. Their gaze bore into her soul, following her. Ever watchful. Ever menacing. Could this truly be her safe haven? The profile of a raven perched atop a spindly tree limb grabbed her attention. It cawed, its warning quite clear. Beware. The sleek bird with its foreboding message added to the commanding illusion of the house. Large, made with dark stone, illuminated in a ghostly hue cast by ominous clouds. Where am I? What is this imposing place? She was reminded of an Edgar Allan Poe poem – how could she remember the macabre works of a poet and nothing about herself? Still, remember she did. This world she had entered was filled with the watchful stare of wolves, ravens, and a scarred man whose appearance was perhaps even more daunting than the structure in which he resided. A fine mist began to fall from the overcast skies as her stomach churned, a knot of apprehension coiling in her abdomen. She feared that she had unwittingly stepped into more danger than before. Drifting into unconsciousness, she managed a silent prayer. Dear God, protect me…

Amazon Amazon CA Amazon UK Amazon AU

Audible US Brilliance Audio CD

Amazon Amazon CA Amazon UK Amazon AU

Audible US Brilliance Audio CD

Amazon Amazon CA Amazon UK Amazon AU

Audible US Brilliance Audio CD

Tracy Goodwin is an international bestselling and award winning author. Throughout a career spanning a decade, she has achieved both traditional and Indie publishing success. Her works include a series of sweeping historical romances fraught with passion, hope, danger, and redemption. In addition, she has penned page turning young adult urban fantasy and paranormal novels. Though the genres may be different, each story delivers her unique blend of poignant emotion, suspense, action, humor, and unforgettable characters that steal readers’ hearts. To receive the latest news and information about upcoming releases, please sign up for Tracy’s newsletter at tracygoodwin.com or join Tracy’s Lantern Ladies Facebook group where you can chat with her and have the opportunity to win exclusive swag.

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Hosted By: 

 www.morethanwordspromotions.com ​

FGMAMTC 

Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Google+ / Pinterest / Goodreads / Tumblr / Bloglovin' / Instagram

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#Tracy Goodwin

[fangirlmomentsandmytwocents]

The Wolf of Winterthorne by Tracy Goodwin #FREE

Title: The Wolf of Winterthorne Series: Scandalous Secrets #4 Author: Tracy Goodwin Genre: Adult, Historical Romance Published: August 23, 2016

Logan Ambrose has endured a tortured existence. After learning how to fend for himself at a young age, he eventually amassed power and wealth. His fortune came at an extreme cost, as rising from poverty often does. Branded, he wears his sins on his marred flesh. Each scar represents a past he doesn't wish to remember, the ruthless man he holds at bay, the tortured soul who would do anything to survive. Bruised, battered and bloodied, Arabella Sutton is a woman lost. With no recollection of who she is or what terrors she suffered, she stumbles onto the imposing Winterthorne estate running from those who hunt her, haunted by the memory of her bloodied hands holding a blade and wearing a bracelet monogrammed with the initial S. When she stumbles into Logan’s arms, he recognizes her instantly. She is one of two women he once knew: Arabella or her twin sister, Sybil. One he dared to love years ago, though he now despises them equally. Logan recognizes her bracelet as belonging to Sybil … the last woman he wished to see. While Arabella must overcome the loss of her memories, she is drawn to the brooding and menacing master of Winterthorne who knows much more about her past than he is willing to admit. Meanwhile, Logan is assailed with memories of his lost love while offering protection to the woman he believes to be her vicious twin, the woman who once reveled in making his life miserable, all the while fighting against the strong attraction that pulls him towards his charge and the reminders of Arabella that she rekindles in his hardened heart. As Arabella pieces together her past, scandalous secrets come to light and Logan will stop at nothing to save his beloved from the dangerous machinations of her evil identical twin. Together, Logan and Arabella rekindle a romance they long thought extinguished. Meanwhile, they concoct a grand scheme to unmask Sybil and rescue Arabella from her sister’s misdeeds. Can they protect Arabella from peril and assure their future before it is too late?

Amazon Amazon CA Amazon UK Amazon AU

Audible US Brilliance Audio CD

"Every time I read one of Tracy Goodwin's beautifully written novels, her words and unforgettable characters steal a little piece of my heart. Her books are exquisite and totally addictive." --SUSAN DUERDEN, AWARD WINNING FEATURE FILM/TELEVISION ACTRESS AND NARRATOR "Tracy Goodwin is a promising new voice in historical romance." --BARBARA DAWSON SMITH, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR "Tracy Goodwin is definitely an author to look out for. She writes a sensual and clever novel that makes for an enjoyable read." --WW BOOK CLUB BLURBS, PUBLISHER'S WEEKLY, BARBARA VEY BLOG

The Wolf of Winterthorne © Tracy Goodwin 2016 Chapter 1 1851 Northamptonshire, England Her lungs burned as she raced farther into the darkness, the stench of decaying leaves and brush assailing her nostrils until she thought she might retch. Help me … The words wedged in her throat, which was raw from a mixture of sheer panic and dehydration. Had she screamed? Why couldn’t she remember? Her mind was muddled in a murky abyss, helped none by the ominous clouds sheathing the moon, casting foreboding shadows across her path. Recollections she couldn’t decipher haunted her in the form of shapes she couldn’t comprehend and occurrences she couldn’t quite piece together. Swallowing hard, she attempted to speak but, again, no words formed. Panic rose as the ringing in her ears heightened to a shrill crescendo. She struggled to breathe, her corset constricting her airflow, reducing her panting to swift, shallow breaths. Why couldn’t she breathe? Why couldn’t she remember? What did she recall? Being hunted. Yes, men who wished her harm were chasing her. That was her reality. As was the fact that her predators must be close. What if they overheard her trudging through the woods? What if they, too, could hear her ragged lungs as they strained to inhale, though with little success? The possibilities sent her senses reeling. Clutching a low-lying branch, she wrapped her fingers around its rough, spindly bark. Leaning against it, she allowed herself one moment to gather her wits. Swooning in the forest wouldn’t save her life. No, it would hasten her demise. Breathe. She silently instructed herself. Breathe then run. Run for your life. She shoved herself away from the branch and sprinted as fast as she could before stumbling on a protruding root. Pain radiated from her hand as she clumsily righted herself against a large tree trunk. Her palm was wet and sticky, the thick, rugged bark having slashed her skin. Grinding her teeth, she grabbed her skirts then propelled herself farther into obscurity. Do not trip. It was her silent command as she veered across the uneven terrain, hard from the early freeze. Ruts and indentations challenged her at every step as did the thick roots, sturdy and unrelenting, that stretched across the landscape. Stalking her. Like the men who sought to kill her. She could not evade them. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how careful she was. The roots, like those men who chased her, continued to hound her, continued to creep towards her, surrounding her at every turn. Again she tripped, this time landing on her knees with a loud grunt she could no longer suppress. Dear God, it is cold. 3 She wore no cloak. Just a simple muslin gown and skirts. No boots, just slippers. Her toes, which once ached, were now numb. The frigid temperature seeped into her body, into every limb and muscle. Nature appeared to want her dead as much as those in pursuit. Choking back a sob, a puff of air swirled like vapor from her mouth into the icy shadows. The bitter cold and damp night enveloped her. The more she knelt on the ground, the more the frost assailed her body, causing her to sway as she tried desperately to stand. Every joint stiffened, as if frozen in place. Her teeth had begun to chatter as she crawled to the silhouette of what appeared to be a tree trunk. Or perchance a log? The closer she got, the smaller it appeared. White spots blurred her vision as realization set in. She was close to losing consciousness. God, please help me, she prayed in silence. Don’t let them catch me. They will kill me. Managing to stand on shaky legs, she staggered forward. A sharp limb clawed at her face and a wet, sticky substance began a slow decent down her cheek. Blood. Her blood. It trickled into her mouth, the thick, metallic taste causing her to gag. Another root grabbed hold of her foot, causing her ankle to give way as she collapsed against the frozen dirt, entwined branches and bark. This time, no grunt escaped her lips. Instead she lay still, mouth agape. Help me … In addition to a searing pain in her ribcage, her ankle now throbbed as she leaned against her arms until they gave way under her weight. She flopped on her side, the waves of pain crushing against her ribcage, her ankle, her cheek, her every limb. The thought of lying on the frigid ground beneath her, remaining in this very spot, became overwhelmingly tempting. Stay still and die – before they find me. Yes, perhaps she would freeze to death. Perhaps she would simply fall asleep and the pain would cease. But what if she was discovered before the cold spindly fingers of death clung to her? Her heart pumped faster, harder, at the thought of the pain they would inflict. Those faceless men, whose blunt, menacing voices she would recognize until the moment she inhaled her last breath. What had they said? That they wanted her dead … that they would kill her. Yes, they sounded excited at the prospect. That she remembered, along with their many questions. She shivered. Those men demanded answers to so many questions. About a man she did not know, whose name she could not recall. She possessed no answers and that made them more eager to kill her. Clutching her side, she managed to rise and stumble farther into the black abyss of night. Tripping again, her feet becoming more and more entangled as she bumped into tree trunks, unable to keep her bearings. What direction did she come from? Where was she heading? She squinted in an attempt to clear her vision. Her eyes darted, unable to discern her path. A dog barked in the distance, the sound causing her to jump and head in the opposite direction. Though she was now limping, she continued to wobble forward. Don’t look back. 4 Never look back. Wiping her cheek, her blood flowed freely onto her palm. It was a welcome distraction from the pain as she found a clearing up ahead. Though cast in an intimidating gloom, it appeared to be a straight path. Her pace quickened as she hurried forward, one step at a time. Gritting her teeth, she gained momentum by reminding herself of the imminent danger. They are coming for me. They will kill me. Run! Dashing past one tree, then weaving past another, she was almost to the clearing when she ran straight into a solid mass. Strong, firm, he clutched her shoulders as her pulse pommeled against her temples. They caught me! They will kill me. She struggled to free herself. Though the man had a firm grip, it wasn’t the least bit excruciating. Her predators would wish her pain. They would be rough, violent – they would have already blindfolded her as they did once before. Was this man one of them? Searching the stranger’s face, she noted the hard, angular jaw and cheekbones, deep-set onyx eyes and a deadened slash of skin spanning his cheekbone. Even cast in a dark silhouette, the scar was discernable. The stranger clutched her shoulders, studying her with a mixture of concern and … Could it be recognition? “Bella?” he whispered. The voice was unfamiliar – it belonged to no one she had heard tonight, but that didn’t mean that he was not one of her abductors. Perhaps he had remained silent … Or perhaps he was her only hope of safety. Perhaps this man was the difference between life and death. Again, she tried to form the words. Though her mouth remained dry as ash, she refused to relent. After another failed attempt, her voice ignited at last from the cinders. Hoarse and no louder than a whisper, her words were audible nonetheless. “Help me,” she managed before her knees buckled. Collapsing in the stranger’s arms, her eyes blurred as she heard him mutter, “Bloody hell.” His was a low baritone, smooth, even in his present predicament. Drifting in and out of lucidity, she could feel the man lift her in one fluid motion, her head now resting against his chest. Though her eyes refused to open, no matter how hard she attempted the once simple task, she knew that he wore a greatcoat because its buttons pressed against her uninjured cheek. She was certain they left impressions in her flesh. Struggling to open her eyes, her head bobbed to the rhythm of his quick strides. It wasn’t until her head swung backwards that she managed to peer through narrow slits. It was dark, the sky thick with murky clouds. There were too many clouds tonight. Too much darkness. She wished there were stars. She liked the constellations. She missed the comfort they provided. The man whistled and the patter of paws approached from behind. The dog was panting, though the man who carried her proceeded to wherever he was headed with no labored breathing. In fact, it was as if she were nothing more than a flimsy piece of fabric in his hands. 5 This man was physically fit. At least she knew something about him. He was also calm under duress. Now she had unlocked a second clue to her savior’s personality. Though he showed no signs of physical exertion, his timbre was strong, composed. “Adolphus, fetch someone from the house. Run, boy. Bark and get their attention. Go!” His instructions were issued in a quick staccato. This man was familiar with issuing commands. Something in the recesses of her mind suggested she must keep track of these clues and wished she had paper and ink. Though it was an urgent thought, it soon became overpowered by her racing heart and the searing pain slicing through her temple. Dear God, her head hurt. Ensconced in a bleak reality, her eyes drifted shut again. What if her attackers were following her? She opened her mouth to warn her companion but coughed, choking on her blood. “Steady,” he assured her, holding her closer against his chest. “We’re almost home.” Home? Again, she managed to open her eyes, though only slightly. Squinting to right her blurry vision, she managed to discern the menacing outline of a massive estate. The closer they approached, the more sinister it appeared. Eyes watched from the rafters. Whose? She struggled to adjust her vision. Wolves. Yes, wolves were perched on the pediments, carved in the stone of the parapets. Their eyes glowed white, even in the dead of night. Their gaze bore into her soul, following her. Ever watchful. Ever menacing. Could this truly be her safe haven? The profile of a raven perched atop a spindly tree limb grabbed her attention. It cawed, its warning quite clear. Beware. The sleek bird with its foreboding message added to the commanding illusion of the house. Large, made with dark stone, illuminated in a ghostly hue cast by ominous clouds. Where am I? What is this imposing place? She was reminded of an Edgar Allan Poe poem – how could she remember the macabre works of a poet and nothing about herself? Still, remember she did. This world she had entered was filled with the watchful stare of wolves, ravens, and a scarred man whose appearance was perhaps even more daunting than the structure in which he resided. A fine mist began to fall from the overcast skies as her stomach churned, a knot of apprehension coiling in her abdomen. She feared that she had unwittingly stepped into more danger than before. Drifting into unconsciousness, she managed a silent prayer. Dear God, protect me…

Amazon Amazon CA Amazon UK Amazon AU

Audible US Brilliance Audio CD

Amazon Amazon CA Amazon UK Amazon AU

Audible US Brilliance Audio CD

Amazon Amazon CA Amazon UK Amazon AU

Audible US Brilliance Audio CD

Tracy Goodwin is an international bestselling and award winning author. Throughout a career spanning a decade, she has achieved both traditional and Indie publishing success. Her works include a series of sweeping historical romances fraught with passion, hope, danger, and redemption. In addition, she has penned page turning young adult urban fantasy and paranormal novels. Though the genres may be different, each story delivers her unique blend of poignant emotion, suspense, action, humor, and unforgettable characters that steal readers’ hearts. To receive the latest news and information about upcoming releases, please sign up for Tracy’s newsletter at tracygoodwin.com or join Tracy’s Lantern Ladies Facebook group where you can chat with her and have the opportunity to win exclusive swag.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted By: 

 www.morethanwordspromotions.com ​

FGMAMTC 

Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Google+ / Pinterest / Goodreads / Tumblr / Bloglovin' / Instagram

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#Tracy Goodwin