#rebornoc

First up snippet tag from the upcoming Kinkmas day 2 to be named featuring Jex from Kinktober and the Celestial Adventure series!

Thank you @shandoratheexplorer for the snippet tag <3 tagging now: @alrendriablaze @goodgirlgonebard @optimisticgrey @tavyliasin @tynithia

Next up we have tidbits of fics and as I was tagged twice, I'll provide two. First will be from my brand new 80s AU BG3 fic "Dream On or How to Get Your Heartstrings Punk'd" and second is from the Ellipsus drafts of the Reborn Moons series longfic in progress "The Blood in the Dusk" (might change this but this is the name for now)

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"How much did you make you rascal?" Karlach asked, before Astarion put his hand on his chest, pretending to be affronted.

"Why darling you wound me! I would never bet on you!" Astarion spoke haughtily, as Karlach snorted before elbowing him lightly.

"You still owe me fifteen gold don't forget that," Karlach remarked, as Astarion chuckled, flicking his hand around before opening his palm, showing off fifteen gold then depositing it into Karlach's hand.

"Paid in full though I still stand by my stance that you have some magical Tiefling powers letting you run that fast," Astarion spoke quietly, as Karlach chuckled.

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"I need to get Theorn out of the city. Tonight. This whole mess has ripped him open and the city is not the place to be for him." I spoke worried,

"Where though?" Jaheira asked,

"The Emerald Grove. Francesca won't have an issue, she remembers meeting Theorn long ago." I replied and sighed as I pinched my nose, trying not to let my own worry fill our bond as I took deep breaths.

"Hey. Theorn is going to be okay, but I think while your first instinct might be to take Theorn and flee…he might not take it so well. His choice has been taken from him so much, so perhaps rest for the night, be with him and in the morning, discuss the options. I'll stay here, keep watch." Karlach soothed,

"Me too and I'll send for Kysa and Shadowheart." Jaheira spoke quietly

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Thank you @optimisticgrey for the double tag <3 now tagging @shandoratheexplorer @desperatejoys @worfs-glorious-hair @goodgirlgonebard @verbenaa

Next up we have WIP tags and I was tagged six times so I will provide six snippets with information on whether this is an AO3 draft or Ellipsus draft <3

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"Weeping Shadows to Bloody Wings" Ellipsus draft chapter 13 Lightfoot's first class with @shandoratheexplorer's baby boy Rashaan goes....about as well as one would expect for a slightly cocky street smart Rogue like Lightfoot

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I went completely still, crouched down as I listened-

Before being thrown across the room with a well placed backhand. I landed hard, before Rashaan was on me in a mere moment, moving with far more precision in and out of the shadows than he had shown the day before. Unable to track him, struggling to fend against the onslaught, a flash of his gold eyes here, a whisper of cloth there, the solid weight of his practice daggers landing bruise and welt on my body.

Idiot. Of course Rashaan wouldn't have shown me full skill yesterday. No skilled warrior showed their hand too soon.

I landed hard once more on the ground, before the lights came back on. Rashaan standing at one as he looked around at the various Rogues throughout the room before his eyes landed on me.

"We have a lot of work to do." Rashaan spoke quietly, as I slowly sat up, feeling every bruise and welt, yet realizing that I was going to end up with a lot more. Rashaan was the sink or swim sort of instructor, but I was going to swim.

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Next is from "Take Me to Eden" a fic in progress on Ellipsus that will explore the darker side of Karlach and this is from the currently named chapter of "1482: Betrayal" where Foxglove aka Fox and Karlach are enjoying taking things a little further in their relationship....if they only knew what was to come....

Third up is from the next chapter of "Broken Melody of Twisted Darkness" chapter 16 "Webs of Blood and Darkness" (a few bits redacted for spoiler avoidance, I much prefer to tease)

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I had no concept of time in the shadows, merely moments I spent either conscious in a fog of pain, using my healing magic to heal the more serious wounds, bearing the less serious ones with the same resigned resilience as I had spent my childhood. Getting little reprieve in the solitude of restless sleep, the --------------------- finding more interest in me as I had thus far survived. I currently lay in my cell, trying to slip off into sleep, but the broken bones I hadn't yet been able to heal somewhat kept me from sleep's ship. 

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Next we have the next chapter of "Foggy Shadows" called "Woodland Evening" where Karlach and Thorin have a little...spicy date night *wink* (minor redaction because Tumblr gets a little testy on things sometimes.... ya'll know what's being redacted LOL)

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"Hope you aren't spent yet my love, the night is still quite young." Thorin purred and I chuckled.

"Not at all, just...counting myself as the luckiest woman alive to have an absolute god for a lover and future husband." I spoke huskily and Thorin smirked.

"Oh I'm definitely not done yet if you can still talk." Thorin growled and captured my lips once more, one hand planting on the ground by my head as the other curved over one hip, lifting it slightly and changing the angle at which I was laying before I groaned throatily into the kiss as I felt Thorin's ---- push up into my depths, stretching me out so deliciously around him yet fitting perfectly, the ridges adorning him naturally brushing that spot and teasing the others as Thorin slowly began to draw back before thrusting back in, working more into me. Thorin was quite heavy in this area though thicker than he was long, not that I minded or cared, all of Thorin was perfect to me.

Thorin moved the hand on my hip to the ground as he drew back, my eyes meeting Thorin's once more as he touched his forehead to mine, our horns clacking lightly yet not deterring the intimate touch as Thorin thrust until he was fully buried within me, stilling as he smiled.

"To the Feywilds my love or gentle?" Thorin asked huskily,

"To the Feywilds and back." I growled and shifted up as I kissed him deeply.

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Fifth WIP we have a shorty from "Bloody Soul Shadow Moons" next chapter 25 "Frigid Finality"

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The first thing I registered as we went through the portal was how cold it was. 

No.

This was beyond cold, beyond freezing, this was frigid. 

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Lastly we have a sneaky peek at the next chapter of the 80s AU "Dream On or How to Get Your Heartstrings Punk'd" dubbed "Royalty" where Shadowheart has learned that the competition she enters every year has opted for duo competition this year....needless to say she isn't thrilled in the slightest that she is considering a low life punk rocker in her eyes...

Thank you @worfs-glorious-hair @optimisticgrey @alrendriablaze for two and @shandoratheexplorer for two tags! Now tagging you four back @worfs-glorious-hair @optimisticgrey @alrendriablaze and @shandoratheexplorer as well as new tagging @goodgirlgonebard @dude-wheres-my-ankheg @alwaysmauria @desperatejoys @strixamans

.

His mind remains numbed by the dazed chaos of slaughter, in the aftermath of this slaughter, massacre, but he doesn’t feel anything about it.

… He doesn’t feel anything about it.

He doesn’t feel it, not until he is standing there himself in person. Not until he is standing in the exact same spot where her blood stains the ground a deep scarlet, standing still and numbly inhaling the sharp coppery scent saturating the air while an ice-cold fury spreads throughout his veins.

9.

.

“Did you really think you could get away with it?” Reborn’s voice is low, detached, as the worthless scumbag cowers before him miserably, trembling and quivering. “Now. Where is she?”

“I don’t know!” The wretched man sobs in terror, voice high and hysterical with fear. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know! Go ask the Boss! I wasn’t the one in charge of this, I don’t know–”

BANG.

8.

.

(The hallways run red with blood.

“It was a trap from the very beginning, wasn’t it?” The young woman asks, in a resigned sort of tone that is more the statement of mere fact than asking any question, and the man standing before her laughs.

“Of course,” the burly man leading the circle of men closing in on the wounded assassin smiles, and it’s a smile filled with bloodlust and glee. “No one crosses us and lives without repercussions, not even the World’s Greatest Hitman.”

“I’m nothing to him. You won’t accomplish anything by killing me.”

“Oh, really?”

He raises the tall cleaver over his head. The young woman is already on the verge of death, there is no escape for her, not in a trapped situation like this –but for all the pain she is suffering, there is a still a glimmer of something defiant, indomitable that shines in her eyes.

“… You’re not going to get away with this,” she says, right before her head comes off and splatters to the ground in messy flecks of gory, crimson red.)

7.

.

She isn’t here. She isn’t here.

That’s when Reborn realizes that there is something horribly, horribly wrong.

6.

.

One day turns into two, two morphs into three.

He waits a single week before starting his search, something unnaturally heavy hammering away with a staccato beat in his chest.

 5.

.

“–thank you for letting me love you.”

Those are the last words the blue-eyed woman says to him before she leaves, and it’s not even in person. It’s left as a message on his phone, and it’s a message that comes both too early and too late, as his heart skips a beat for a moment before stuttering, stuttering back into a rhythm that is somewhat-steady-again-but-not-really.

(It’s a message that Reborn never does end up responding to, despite his intentions.)

4.

.

“You just keep me around for the espresso I make, don’t you?” the young woman’s voice drifts over teasingly from the other end of the line, and Reborn smirks.

“What do you think?” he responds smoothly. She doesn’t respond to the question, laughing instead.

“… Hey, Reborn. I just wanted to let you know, to tell you–”

3.

. 

“You’re an idiot.”

The blue-eyed woman laughs, lithe muscles uncoiling and loosening under his grip as she flops to the ground and releases the knives in her hands. “Maybe, I guess. Serves me right for accepting a contract like this, right?”

Reborn rolls his eyes.

“You’re a hundred years too early to try and one-up me,” he informs her candidly.

“… Aah. I know.”

(And this is how their story starts.)

2.

.

They are both hitmen, assassins, killers for hire. They are creatures who are born in blood, live in blood, and will die in blood. It’s a fact of life, for things like them but sometimes they can’t help but think of what if’s, what if things were different. Maybe things can change, if things were different.

… But they aren’t, and this is the very essence of what marks their story as a tragedy from the very beginning.

1.

.

“When I die,” he remembers her saying once, “I want to be buried in a field of flowers.”

Her voice was a little wistful, a little self-mocking, a little sad. Because she knew, just as well as he did, that–

0.

.

Hitmen have no graves. There are no testaments to their memories; only the faintest drifting traces calling herald to ghostly whispers of what once was and what could have been.

.

.

.