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theclockworkmonk · 3 years

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Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 4

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Chapter 1 on Tumblr

Chapter 2 on Tumblr

Chapter 3 on Tumblr

Written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

*******

Ginny had disappeared, dragged through the kitchen door, before Harry could come up with an excuse to keep her by his side. He sighed and took a long gulp from his glass of firewhiskey, welcoming the burning sensation down his throat. Whatever his family was so wound up about, Harry knew he wasn't in danger here, so he hoped the drink would dull his overactive auror instincts so he could enjoy the evening.

"So...how's the shop?" asked Harry, choosing to focus on George, "any accidental new body parts I can't see?"

"Harry, I'll have you know that we ascribe to only the highest of safety standards at Weasley Wizard Wheezes," said George with his nose in the air, "We strictly adhere to a dual-fault system to make sure a trained wizard is on-site to intervene in case of emergency."

"By that he means that he doesn't try any weird shit on himself without me there to rush him to St. Mungo's," said Ron with his mouth full, wincing as his mother smacked him in the back of the head with a wooden spoon for his language.

Harry's eyes narrowed at his best friend. "So you two are already partners now? Really wasting no time on bailing on me, aren't you?"

"Don't be a prat!" grumbled Ron. "No, like I said, it was just a thought that I had. You know, the kind of thought you would hope you could share with your best mate without him jumping down your throat?"

"Well I think it's a marvelous idea," Mrs. Weasley announced loudly from her place at the stove."

George's eyebrows shot up. "Who are you and what have you done with my mother? You're glad that another one of your sons is considering wasting his life at this silly business, instead of a respectable job at the Ministry?"

"Well, if said Ministry job involves chasing after Death Eaters every day," huffed Mrs. Weasley, "Then I suppose my nerves will take any alternative."

She sent a stern look towards Harry and pointed a threatening spoon at him, making him jump back. "You could do well to learn from Ron in that regard, Harry."

Ron was grinning ear to ear, bouncing in his seat from being the favorite child of the moment.

"There's nothing wrong with Ron doing the responsible thing." she lowered her voice to a grumble so Harry barely heard, "at least someone is."

Harry surveyed the tense atmosphere in the room again.

"Okay, what's got everyone in such a mood?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"No one's in a mood!" said Mrs. Weasley quickly.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley spoke up for the first time, and his voice too was less assuring than Harry usually found it. "I'm having trouble with a fascinating new muggle device I've discovered, would you mind giving me a hand out in the shed?"

"Oh. Sure," said Harry easily. Mr. Weasley got up from the table and led Harry outside. They entered the man's infamous tool shed, and Harry noticed new mechanical and electronic devices in various states of disassembly. Mr. Weasley gestured to his work table, where a VCR sat.

"I've heard that muggles use this to see recorded images, like a pensieve, but I've put in those black blocks, and nothing happens."

"Oh, well," said Harry, trying not to laugh, "You need to attach it to a television. It can't just work on its—"

He was interrupted by the door opening again, and Harry was surprised to see Mrs. Weasley entering the shed which he always knew her to avoid, wanting nothing to do with her husband's "nonsense" tinkering.

"Molly, what are you doing here?" Mr. Weasley asked crossly, "We agreed we wouldn't. The boys—"

"I told them I was getting apples from the orchard," his wife said dismissively. She crossed the shed and looked beseechingly at a very surprised Harry.

"Harry, dear, you know how we think of you as a part of this family. We've been wanting to say….we hope that you don't think that has changed because of you and Ginny's relationship. We know young men have trepidation about 'the girlfriend's parents,' but you're not just our daughter's boyfriend to us, you're one of our own."

Harry was as touched as he was confused. "Th-Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said softly. "I can't tell you how much that means to me."

"And one reason we had no objection to you and Ginny dating," Mr. Weasley continued, "is that we trust you to always do right by Ginny. To always do what's best for her."

Harry looked back and forth between them, their expressions pointed and expecting.

"Well — ehem — I'll remember that. I promise to never do anything to hurt her." He meant it.

There was another moment of silence before Mrs. Weasley spoke up again.

"Sooooo…." she prompted. "We just want you to be aware that….should you decide to propose…you wouldn't have to worry—"

"What!?" Harry's heart leapt into his throat and he knew his face had turned scarlet. "Oh, no no," he said, putting his hands up. "I'm glad to have your blessing, but we're not ready to think about that yet."

Harry rubbed his neck nervously. It was only a half-lie. In truth, Harry was ready to think about that. He thought about proposing to Ginny damn near every day, in fact. But he was fairly certain that Ginny was still years away from being ready. She was fiercely proud of her independence and she was still dealing with the papers referring to her as "Harry Potter's girlfriend" before "star Harpies Chaser," even without marriage.

Mr. Weasley sighed in what seemed like disappointment and Mrs. Weasley's mouth thinned and her expression turned sour.

"Well...the roast should be done, we should all head back inside."

The Weasleys led the way out of the shed and Harry cautiously followed them. When they arrived back in the kitchen, Harry saw Bill shoot his father a stern, questioning look, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Mr. Weasley shake his head grimly, and Bill and Charlie gave Harry a glare that would make Mad-Eye Moody quake in his boots.

Harry froze and all the breath left his body. It suddenly all made sense. He was the thing that the Weasleys were so on edge about. Ginny's parents inquiring about him marrying her.

They had somehow found out that he and Ginny were living together.

Harry suddenly felt like a sheep in a cage with several wolves.

"Hey mum," said Charlie, "while you were outside, Aunt Muriel floo-called and said that the gnomes are in her attic again. Apparently she's upset at the way dad tried to take care of it last time."

"Is she sure it's actually the gnomes, or is it the doxies nesting in her hair?" Mr. Weasley grumbled as his wife shooed him into their sitting room and through their fireplace. Harry's heart was thudding in his chest as the few Weasleys he could count on to not murder him due to this secret getting out abandoned him with the curse breaker, dragon tamer, master prankster, and Ministry power-broker.

Several murderous eyes turned towards Harry.

"Look...er…" Harry stammered. "I really thought that, after everything, we had all moved past the whole 'overprotective big brothers' routine."

"Yeah, we thought we had too," said Charlie darkly, "but mum and dad's diplomatic approach clearly didn't work, so the gloves are off. I guess we never figured that the savior of the bloody wizarding world would do this to our sister."

George snorted, still finding this whole thing quite amusing. "Sorry, do this to her? Harry's the real victim here. Ginny's a nightmare already, can you imagine what living with her will be like now?"

"What the hell are you lot talking about?" Ron cut in, looking around the room in confusion.

"I think your brothers have become aware of me and Ginny's...status change," said Harry.

"Oh, that is just so typical!" huffed Hermione, crossing her arms and adopting her lecturing pose. "Ginny is perfectly capable of handling her own life and she doesn't need a bunch of chest-beating men to defend an outdated notion of her 'honour!' I still can't believe how sexist magical society can be sometimes."

"Yes, Hermione, our world is sexist, whether we like it or not" said Bill, not backing down. "You can pontificate all you want about how it's not right, or a double standard, but once the public finds out about this — and sooner or later, they will," he shot another glare at Harry, as if he wrote to the papers about it himself, "then it will change how people see her. And since she's a Quidditch star, the way people see her matters."

"Yup, can see the headlines now," George sighed dramatically, "the ambitious social climber Ginevra Weasley, raised in a pauper's home, so she used her feminine wiles to land herself this sweet gig."

"Look, ultimately, it's none of our business — no, I'm serious!" Ron finished in response to his brothers' looks of betrayal. "Look, Bill, Charlie, you two were only around when Ginny was a little girl. You didn't go to school with her. You never saw first-hand what happens when you try to meddle in her life to defend her virtue, trust me." He shivered a bit, as he remembered the traumatic memory.

"I don't even understand why we have to meddle," said Percy, "I just don't understand your logic, Harry. There's no question you would be willing to throw yourself into mortal danger all over again to protect Ginny. What you're hesitating to do is comparatively easy."

"His reasons don't matter, he should have thought of that earlier," said Charlie, pointing a threatening finger at Harry. "I don't care if this makes me a hypocrite, but you're going to do the right thing and—"

Ginny suddenly burst into the room, causing every word to fall silent. Harry knew that Ginny always hated it when people were obviously talking about her, but as he started towards her, he was surprised when he saw that her eyes were watery with tears. Ignoring all of the eyes on her, she ran straight towards Hermione, throwing her arms around her friend.

"Erm, is something wrong?" asked Hermione. She threw a questioning look to Fleur as she followed Ginny into the kitchen, but the young mother looked just as confused as anyone as she took Victoire back from Bill.

Instead of answering Hermione's question, Ginny withdrew from the hug and smacked Ron upside the head.

"Ah! What the shit!" Ron cried, rubbing the back of his head.

"Ronald, language!" scolded Mrs. Weasley, re-entering the kitchen along with her husband, making the room quite crowded.

"That's your main concern?" asked Ron, "Not the unwarranted physical assault?"

"It's not unwarranted, it's for being a stupid, forgetful git!" barked Ginny

She walked up to Harry and took his glass of firewhiskey, still mostly intact.

"I need this more than you," she informed him, and began to raise the glass to her lips.

"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!"

Mrs. Weasley's ear-piercing shriek caused everyone in the room to wince, and Ginny momentarily jumped behind Harry for protection. "Merlin's balls, WHAT!?"

"Molly…" Mr. Weasley cautioned.

"DO NOT 'MOLLY' ME, ARTHUR!" his wife shouted back. She had a crazed look in her eye and she was pulling at her hair. She rounded on Harry and Ginny.

"We have tried to be respectful, but you two are clearly not ready for this kind of responsibility! I am so disappointed in you both for not taking this more seriously! You haven't even given a thought to how this will affect your careers!"

"Our careers?" asked Harry, confused. "How would that possibly—"

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. He had gotten it completely wrong about what the Weasleys were talking about. The talk about responsibility, their careers, affects to Ginny's public image.

Somehow, the family had gotten word about the "honour" bestowed upon Harry by the Wizengamot, and all the implications that had for his and Ginny's future together. He supposed it wasn't too surprising that Arthur or Percy had heard about it through their Ministry connections.

He looked sideways at Ginny, and from one look he knew that she had come to the same realization. Both their faces split into wide grins as relief flooded through them that all of this drama was over something so silly. Apparently, the family somehow had the absurd idea that Harry would keep the title and actually take the status, power, and responsibilities being offered to him.

Harry and Ginny cracked up into delirious laughter, leaning on each other for support, which did nothing to help the livid look on Mrs. Weasley's face.

"Oh Merlin's beard, is that what has you all concerned? Don't worry about that," laughed Harry, waving one hand dismissively and wrapping the other around Ginny's shoulder.

"I mean, come on, we're obviously not keeping it!"

There was a moment of silence, then the entire kitchen exploded.

#hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hinny #romione #hinny ficfest #hinny fanfic #hinny fanfiction #ao3 link #harry potter #hp #harry x ginny #ron x hermione #ginny weasley #weasley family #farce #comedy #ron weasley #hermione granger

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zacharybosch · 6 years

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Playing God - chapter 1

*brushes the dust off my tumblr account* hello? anyone still here?

i have effectively abandoned my tumblr after the banning nonsense of december, but i am also hungry for validation and not above using this platform that i now despise in order to promote my work

so! here is a hannigram vampire AU! it features art by @theseavoices and i really hope you all like it!!

the fic is complete and a new chapter will be posted every saturday

read Playing God chapter 1 below or on AO3

Beverly Katz was not much prone to gazing forlornly out of windows and letting her mind churn itself into soup, but right now she could very much see the appeal. Jack was repeating the benefits of the Bureau’s secure witness protection unit for the third time in ten minutes, and all Bev wanted to do was throw herself repeatedly against the bullet-proof glass.

“This entire unit is completely secure, but we’ll keep an agent on the door to your suite twenty-four-seven. Every possible entrance to the unit is covered by CCTV. No blind spots. No-one can so much as sneeze in your direction without us knowing about it.”

“Are you expecting someone to sneeze at me?”

“We’re not expecting anything out of the ordinary. But I want to know that you’re safe.”

“Right now I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe again. But I appreciate the trouble you’re going to,” Bev said, fully cognizant of the fact that it had less to do with her personal safety, and everything to do with Jack giving himself a sense of control over the situation.

“We’re working on procuring evidence. Hard evidence. Something that will stand up in court.”

Bev pushed away from the window and turned to face Jack. He was stood in the middle of the room steadfast and resolute, silhouetted by the weak afternoon light streaming in from the opposite window. “You don’t need to chastise me again. I know it was stupid. I just couldn’t let it lie, Jack, do you understand? Chilton is a lot of things, but he is not smart enough to be the Chesapeake Ripper. The whole thing stank from the beginning, but apparently I was the only one who could smell it.”

“If you had just come to me--”

“I did, but you were too wrapped up in Chilton!” Bev shouted, and then stopped herself. Few people could get away with shouting at Jack Crawford once; no-one could get away with shouting at him twice. “You know me, Jack. What did you expect me to do? I had to be sure.”

“Your sense of surety came at a price.”

“It’s a price I’m happy to pay if it means we can cage Hannibal Lecter for good. What I saw in that basement will stay with me for the rest of my life. Please make it worth it.”

“We’ll get him, Beverly, I promise you that. Things are in motion as we speak.”

***

“I’m a vampire.”

Hannibal blinked once, slowly. Then he blinked again. “A vampire.”

“Yes,” Will said. “Whatever shitty little note you’re about to make in my file, don’t make it. This will be a lot easier for both of us if you take me at my word.”

“I see,” Hannibal said. And then, after a too-long pause, “Does Jack know?”

“He does. I have a handler at the bureau who acts as my liaison. Knowledge of my condition is on a strictly need-to-know basis, and so long as I’m working for Jack, he needs to know.”

Hannibal’s eyes glittered in the late afternoon light. “And when he no longer needs to know?”

“I can’t wipe his memory in my current state, but I can scramble it enough that he forgets what I am.”

“And what state is that?”

“I’m on a strict feeding program. ‘Subsistence appointments,’ they call them. I’m given enough to keep me alive, but not so much as to let me thrive. I have… things I can do that go beyond the normal scope of human capability. The feeding program is there to keep those abilities in check.”

“Diminished but functional,” Hannibal mused, “and easier to control.”

“Right. If I don’t turn up for my subsistence appointments, or show up having already fed elsewhere, there are consequences.”

“What does a vampire have to fear from mere human consequences?”

“Plenty. My Keepers have become creative in their methods of control.”

“Fascinating,” Hannibal said. “The Bureau has made a lion into a housecat.”

Hannibal sat quietly for several moments, savouring the secrets that had just been revealed and no doubt already planning ways to twist them to his own ends. A short while later, he got up from his chair and made for the top right-hand drawer of his desk, producing a small gilt hand-mirror from within.

Will huffed a laugh. “If you’re hoping to get some proof with that mirror, it won’t work. Modern mirrors are backed with aluminium. They reflect my image just fine.”

“A good job then that this mirror is very old, and backed with silver,” Hannibal said, coming to a stop by the arm of Will’s chair.

“Of course you have something like that just kicking around in your desk drawers,” Will sighed, rolling his eyes. At least Hannibal wasn’t demanding that Will extend his fangs and hiss. “Give it here then.”

Instead of passing the mirror to Will, Hannibal kept his grip on the handle and leaned down to circle his arm around the back of Will’s chair, a scant breath from pressing against his shoulders. He raised the mirror before their faces, and Will watched as Hannibal’s solitary reflection smiled slow and wide.

“Outstanding,” Hannibal said, as he remained there, looking.

It was difficult to tell how much time passed after that; possibly minutes, maybe hours, but to Will it was just more fleeting seconds in the endless stretch of his already impossibly long life. Hannibal appeared transfixed, tilting the mirror this way and that, letting his gaze shift slowly between the glass and Will’s steady, unblinking face. Fascinated by what he couldn’t see.

Having Hannibal’s body so close to his own made Will’s teeth ache. He could smell the skin, the meat that sat beneath it, and the blood that snaked through it. He knew that, were he to turn his head and bite right now, Hannibal would taste sublime.

Will shifted in his chair and pushed the mirror away from his face. “I’m not a specimen, Doctor. Sit down.”

If Will’s brusque instruction gave Hannibal pause or offence he showed no sign of it, but instead of sitting he went to replace the mirror and then remained there by the desk, fingers curled against the smooth wood.

“You mentioned a need-to-know basis,” Hannibal said. “Do I need to know? Why isn’t your handler conducting this meeting?”

“You don’t need to know. I could get the therapeutic benefits that I need from you without revealing what I am. That’s what I was ordered to do when they signed off on my coming here.”

“But you’re flouting the rules and telling me anyway.”

“Yes.”

Hannibal stood silently for a long moment, considering. “Am I in any danger, Will?” he asked, not sounding the least bit frightened.

“More than you were yesterday. Less than you might be tomorrow. A great deal depends on what you choose to do with this information.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Will rose from his chair and buttoned his jacket. “Not really. Goodnight, Doctor Lecter.”

Outside, the streetlights had just begun to flicker to life, picking out piles of snow and slushy puddles with a sodium-yellow glow. A woman walking down the other side of the street was bundled up in scarf and gloves, so Will drew his thin coat around himself accordingly and hunched his shoulders against what he assumed must be an unpleasant chill.

He had one leg and most of an arm inside his car when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. On the other end of the line, Jack’s voice was fuzzy and impatient.

“How did it go? Did you hook him?”

“He’s interested. I don’t think it’ll take very long. But, Jack--”

“Good. Don’t dawdle, Miriam wants to see you when you get back.”

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal fanfic #my fic

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mookybear12404 · 5 years

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A House, A Home: Chapter 4

Rating: T | Fandom: Mob Psycho 100

<Previous | Next> | Read on AO3 | KoFi

Before Reigen could react, the figure disappeared around the corner at the back of the store.

“What-” It suddenly clicked in his brain what had happened.

“HEY! ” he shouted, “Get back here! ”

Reigen surged forward, almost slipping on the salted floor.

“I SAID GET BACK HERE! ”

Reigen flung himself around the corner, toppling a stack of boxes as he went. He made it just in time to watch the back door to the restaurant slam shut.

Reigen barreled down the hall. His shoulder collided with the door as he slid to a stop in front of it. It took a few moments of scrambling with the handle to get it open.

Staggering outside, he found himself standing before a dark, rainy street. He frantically surveyed the scene around him for any sign of the figure.

It was almost impossible to see anything in the dark, but by the dim light of a streetlamp, Reigen spotted a flash of movement dashing down the street.

“Hey!” Reigen called again.

He sprinted down the rainy streets after the figure. His heart was racing in his chest. His feet pounded against the pavement. Water splashed under his shoes, soaking into the cuffs of his pants. He watched as the figure’s movement vanished around an alleyway.

You really thought that would get rid of me? He laughed to himself.

He raced forward, and rounded the corner into the alleyway. Reigen came to a sudden halt, finding himself facing a dead-end.

“Stay right there! Don’t move.”

Reigen whipped his phone out from his back pocket, flipping it open so that the light from its screen illuminated the alleyway in front of him.

To his surprise, it wasn’t an adult, or even a ghost, that stood in front of him.

It was a kid.

The small child held his hands up, trying to protect his eyes from the light of Reigen’s screen. His face was partially obscured by the hood he had pulled over his head. His body was practically swimming in the oversized green jacket that he was dressed in. He wore a pair of gloves that were much too big for his hands, and his feet were completely bare, submerged in a puddle of rainwater.

“What-” It took a moment for Reigen to catch his breath and overcome his surprise. “What are you doing out here kid?”

The boy said nothing, but his eyes darted back and forth, as if scoping out a means of escape.

Reigen bent down, so that he was at eye-level with the boy. Two wide, terrified brown eyes stared back at him.

“You-you okay kiddo? What are you doing by yourself out at night? Do you need me to call your parents?”

The boy shook his head vigorously.

“Then what were you doing in that MobDonald’s? If you need a phone I got one right here.”

The boy shook his head again.

“What’s your name?” Reigen asked, slower this time.

The boy said nothing.

“Alright listen, I can’t really help you if you don’t tell me what you need. Okay?”

Still nothing.

“Seriously, I need you to help me if you want me to help you. Are you lost? Where are your shoes?”

The boy stayed as silent as ever.

Reigen sighed.

“How about you come with me? We can go back to the MobDonalds. It’s much drier in there.”

Reigen waited, but there was still no response from the boy.

Perhaps he needed to take a different approach?

“What if we got you something to eat, huh?”

The boy’s eyes lit up.

Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere.

“Oh yeah! I’m sure Matsumoto-San would be more than happy to get you some food. You like chicken nuggets? Maybe we can get you a milk too, okay?”

The boy gasped, his eyes growing wider.

“Milk?”

“Aha! So you can talk!” Reigen teased. “If you come with me buddy, you can have all the milk you want, alright?”

The boy nodded vigorously.

Reigen breathed a sigh of relief. He still didn’t know anything new about the kid, but at least he was able to coax him into getting some shelter from the rain.

“Perfect! Now then, take my hand. ‘kay? Let’s get you something to eat.”

Reigen took the boy’s gloved hand into his own. He couldn’t help but marvel at just how tiny it was.

Rain continued to patter on the streets, soaking into Reigen’s skin as he led the boy back to the warmth and safety of the building ahead.

Reigen and Matsumoto peered over the counter at the young boy.

He was seated at one of the booths, swinging his dangling legs. His wet jacket and gloves had been placed aside. Matsumoto’s stolen t-shirt, with the large logo of a metal band displayed on its front, was so massive in comparison to the boy that it looked like a dress on him.

Reigen could see that he had already devoured a half of his nuggets, as well as most of his sweet corn. In one of his hands he held a little blue Hot Wheel car that Matsumoto had pulled from the bin of Happy Meal toys. In his other hand he held his third carton of milk, which he was sipping quite joyfully.

“And he wouldn’t give you his name?” Matsumoto asked.

“I tried,” Reigen answered. “Three times. He refused to tell me,”

The boy began stacking some of his nuggets on top of each other, forming a tower.

“I don’t understand. What is he even doing out here all by himself?”

“I have no idea,” Reigen said, “I’ve already told you, I can’t get anything out of the kid.”

“I imagine his parents are worried sick. I lost that shirt three days ago, which means he’s been on his own since then. Do you think we should take him to the police?”

“Of course we should take him to the police!” Reigen hissed. “The problem is that he doesn’t seem to want to be found. Remember how he freaked out when I tried to call them?”

“I know I know,” Matsumoto whispered, “I just don’t know what else to do.”

Reigen sighed. He turned his head to watch the boy again, who was now running his toy car along the table, pushing it so that it knocked over the tower of nuggets he had made.

“Let me try and talk to him again. I don’t want to scare him, but somehow or another we need to get him to the police.”

Reigen straightened up, and went around the counter towards the boy.

“Hey there kiddo! You doing okay?”

The boy smiled. Reigen noticed that there was some corn still stuck to his face.

“Good! Is it alright if I sit here?”

The boy said nothing, which Reigen took as a ‘yes’.

Reigen slid into the seat across from him, and folded his arms on the table.

“Now that you’ve eaten, I think it’s time that we talked. Can you start by telling me your name?”

The boy shook his head.

“No? Why not?”

The boy reached for another nugget.

Reigen grabbed the edge of the napkin from under the nuggets and pulled them away.

“Nah-ah-a! You can have these back after we’ve talked.”

Reigen definitely did not like the look the kid gave him.

“Just for a second, I promise! I need you to answer some questions, okay?”

The boy tried to reach across the table to snatch one of the nuggets, but Reigen was able to block his hand from reaching them.

“Sorry! You can’t have these back until you’ve told me your name.”

“No!”

“No why?”

“NO!”

The boy pounded his fists onto the table, smashing some of his corn in the process.

“Look kid, I can’t help you unless you help me. Alright? You need to give me something here. Anything .”

The boy crossed his arms and stuck his bottom lip out.

“Don’t give me that pouty look now!” he cried, waggling his finger at the kid. “I got you milk, so now you gotta give me your name.”

Reigen wasn’t quite sure what happened, but in the blink of an eye, one of the nuggets from the pile had suddenly made it into the boy’s hands.

“Wait- how …”

The nugget disappeared into the boy’s mouth.

“Oh- Oh okay okay alright you can have these back,” he pushed the napkin back over to the boy, “but I need you to give me something. If you won’t tell me your name, is there something else I can call you?”

The boy began to shove another nugget into his face.

“You sure do like those,” Reigen mused. He looked over at the milk carton the boy held in his hand, the big yellow “M” on its front still visible between his fingers.

“How ‘bout I call you Mob. Is that alright?”

The boy nodded, putting another one of his nuggets into his mouth.

“Okay Mob, how about you start by telling me where your shoes went.”

“Trash man.”

“Trash man?”

Mob nodded, taking a sip from his milk.

“The trash man. So he took your shoes?”

Mob nodded again.

“Why did he do that?”

“I left them by the big bin. He thought they were trash.”

“And why, may I ask, did you leave your shoes by the garbage bins?”

“I was sleeping there.”

Reigen felt a pit forming in his stomach.

“Why were you sleeping by the trash bins?”

Mob slurped loudly through his empty straw. He shook it a few times, and then held it out to Reigen.

“Empty.”

“Yes, yes it is. Now can you please tell me why you were sleeping outside in a dark alleyway, all on your own, in the middle of the rain?”

Mob thrusted the carton at Reigen again.

“Milk.”

“For goodness sake, I’ll get you some milk after! I need to kn- please don’t do the pouty thing again Mob, It’s not going to work this time. I need you to tell me what you were doing sleeping alone outside.”

Mob crossed his arms.

Great. This conversation wasn’t getting him anywhere.

“Alright then, I’ll get you some more milk. But then I’m going to have to call the cops and see if they can help us find your-”

Mob whole body froze.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t just let you go out into the streets again. Hey, how about we get you ano-”

Before Reigen could finish his sentence, Mob had bolted out of his seat and began to sprint towards the front door.

“W- Wait!”

Reigen tried to jump from his seat, but stumbled over the table’s leg.

“MOB!”

But Mob had already flung open the door and was disappearing into the darkness outside.

“WAIT! ”

Reigen made it to his feet, tore across the room, and caught the glass door before it shut.

“Mob come back!”

He ran out into the rain, the figure of the boy was already halfway across the parking lot.

“WAIT! I promise I won’t call the cops!”

Mob’s silhouette stopped.

“You won’t?” he called back.

“I won’t call them. I promise. Ok kiddo?” he yelled “Just-just come back inside please, I’ve already had enough of this rain.”

Mob took a step towards him.

“You promise?”

“Sure. Whatever. Just come back inside, please .”

Mob walked forward, so that Reigen could see him by the faint light of the store.

“Pinky promise.”

His voice was firm. He held out his right hand, with his toy car still clutched in it, pinky finger extended.

Reigen sighed.

“Alright kid, you win.”

He stepped forward, reached out his hand, and shook Mob’s pinky finger with his own.

“Pinky promise.”

Mob nodded.

“Ok then. No cops. Let’s see… what to do now…”

Reigen looked down at Mob, the boy’s bright eyes looked up at him expectantly. Reigen couldn’t think of what to do next. If he tried to call the police, Mob would try and run away again. But he certainly couldn’t leave the kid here by himself.

An idea started to form in his head, and Reigen was fairly certain he was going to regret it.

“How about this kid, why don’t you come and spend the night at my place? That way, you won’t have to sleep outside by the garbage bins again.”

Mob looked at Reigen with his big brown eyes. The hope he saw in them made the pit in his stomach twist again.

“I can stay with you?”

“Of course!”

A smile spread across the young boy’s face.

Great. What have I gotten myself into?

“Ok, now that that’s settled, let’s go inside and explain everything to Matsumoto-San, alright? Then I’ll see if I can find us both a taxi.”

Mob nodded, reached out his hand, and allowed Reigen to lead him back into the restaurant.

#fic #fanfic #fanfiction #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #anime #reigen arataka #kageyama shigeo #manga #chapter

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waypathfinder · 5 years

Text

Crimson Lane - Chapter 13 - The Long Dark Night (Part 2)

Moodboard by @ashtyntaytertot

Beta’d by @kathknight and @ashtyntaytertot

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Archive of our Own (from the start)

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Chapter Text

Rain trickled down the tinted windows of the black Mercedes Vito. Within, Kylo rested his head against the back seat, listening to the gentle roar of rubber tyres on wet bitumen. Gloved fingers threaded and eyes closed. Head bobbing as though he were sleeping.

The van sped from the red-light district of Mustafar. Streetlights beamed onto Kylo’s face, the shadow of rain dancing across his features. The van weaved through the darkness until the lights became sparser and the road rough. Telltale signs they were coming into the rundown region of Jakku.

They came to a stop and Kylo opened his eyes. The door of the van slid open and the smell of musty rain pitted against dry streets flooded the interior.

“Ren,” Dom said, voice quiet. “We’re here. The guys are waiting for you inside.”

Kylo nodded. Dom wasn’t like the others. At five foot seven, he was the smallest of the knights, contracted by Snoke for tech work and driving. He was a gentle soul with a crooked smile and a love of small wonders, bugs mainly. Snoke had busted him hacking into his archives four years ago. Then, he’d been given the same sentence as Kylo: Freedom, at a cost. Now Dom had a string of offences that were far worse: fraud, embezzlement, hacking and sabotage. He couldn’t walk away now, even if he wanted to.

Kylo stepped out into the gutterless street, pulling the collar of his jacket up around his neck as he dashed across the pavement. The road was unnaturally dark and eerily quiet, with wisps of steam rising from the surface.

That familiar blue door was as dark as the ocean floor now, the edges of it cracked and splintered, where Hux and the knights had kicked through the lock.

Kylo reached out, ready to push it open.

“Wait!” Dom held the barrel of the gun, handle outward for Kylo to grasp. “You’ll need this.”

Kylo furrowed his brow, taking it slowly. “Don’t ever hold a gun like that.”

“I trust you, Kylo.”

“You shouldn’t trust anyone here, least of all me.” He took the gun carefully, checking the safety was in place, and slipping it beneath the waistband of his trousers.

He pushed the door again and this time the hinges creaked loudly and with a strained breath, he stepped inside.

Blood.

It was everywhere.

On the floor, on the walls, the stench of it acrid and sweet in the air.

“Holy shit,” Dom whispered behind him.

“You don’t need to come in.”

Dom nodded, backing away, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll wait outside.”

Kylo kept his head straight, staring ahead with half-closed lids.

Drip, drip, drip . The rain was leaking through the hallway light, creating a pool of water on the hall rug. Kylo stepped over it. A gust of wind pushed the door open from behind him, as a draft crept down his back in an icy chill. He turned around.

He was alone. But still, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling something or someone was walking with him.

Ahead, there was a light in the living room, with the shapes of Hux, Kane and Seth, hovering around a central figure.

He froze in place at the sound of Lor’s weary words spilling out.

“I already told you, I’m not working with anyone. It's only ever been me. I used old access codes and--”

“That’s not really true though, is it?” Hux’s weaselling words followed. He turned to his knights. “Gentleman, help him remember.”

LIke a cackle of hyenas, Hux and two of the knights circled around Lor, who was tied up in his dining chair. Kylo set his jaw in place, resolving to show no emotion at the sight of his Godfather bruised and bloodied, the hair of his beard burnt and the skin beneath it raw and glistening. Kylo looked through him, to the wall behind, forcing out the sight of the broken man.

“Well, well, well. So good of you to join us, Ren.” Hux marched to him. The son-of-a-bitch didn’t have a single hair out of place. Meanwhile, the rest of the knights were puffing, knuckles red and splattered with dried blood.

There was an emptiness in the air and inside him. From some far-off place in his consciousness, Kylo could hear the stoic guard of the grandfather clock, bearing witness. Each tick, counting down the seconds San Tekka had to live.

It was too much, and the old man’s head dropped to the side, staring at the floor, pink saliva dripping from his cracked lip.

“Did you get anything?” Kylo asked, trying not to flinch at the sight of Lor's pathetic form.

“Actually, yes.” Hux walked over to the dining table. The one Kylo had sat at mere hours ago. His glass of water, still there, untouched.

“Here.” Hux handed him a small cylinder-shaped USB drive.

Kylo stared at it for far too long. There was no mistaking it. He had hidden and protected that piece of hardware for the last four months, using every moment Snoke had left his laptop unlocked to carefully steal information from it and on to the drive. It had everything he needed to bring Snoke and the First Order to justice once and for all. It was the only way he could make Snoke pay and release everyone else he had trapped in his vicious cycle of crime.

And there Hux held it in the palm of his hand like it was nothing. Without the drive there was no escape, Snoke would always find him and hunt him down. Kylo had tried to run away once, as a teenager… it had not ended well. He still had the scars to prove it. There was no choice but to stay now and continue playing the game, waiting to be caught or killed.

Kylo’s world was crumbling around him; everything he had hoped to put into place was now crashing down like a landslide. He cleared his throat, blinking back the hint of tears.

“What’s on it then?”

“Everything. You, me, Snoke. Every underhanded job the First Order has ever done.”

Kylo nodded, slowly, eyes transfixed on the drive. “It’s a good thing we found it then.” He pocketed the drive but Hux reached out.

“It’s a good thing I found it.” Hux reached out with an open palm, waiting.

“Come now, Kylo. Finders keepers.”

“I’ll take it back to Snoke myself. He’s expecting it”

“You’re right, he is expecting it, which is why he asked me to deliver it personally .”

Kylo pursed his lips, reluctantly placing the drive back in Hux’s waiting palm.

Hux’s fingers closed around it quickly, sliding it into his own trouser pocket.

“You know, there was an awful lot of dirt on you. You should be thankful it didn’t find its way to the press.”

“We all are, I imagine.”

Hux chortled. “Yes, I suppose so.” And then he looked around the room, pulling Kylo aside. “There’s no way San Tekka would have had access to this kind of information. You know what this means?”

“There’s someone else on the inside.”

“One of the girls, perhaps?”

“It’s possible.”

“I’ve been working on him for hours, but the son-of-bitch won’t talk. Maybe you can be more convincing.”

Kylo looked over at Lor thoughtfully. His godfather. The man who had cleaned him up after his first school fight so his mother wouldn’t scold him, the man who was there for them when his father couldn’t be, the man protecting him, even now.

“He’s weak. If he knew anything he would have talked. Anyway, Snoke wants him dead.”

“Hmm,” Hux mused to himself. “It seems like a waste.”

There was a flicker of movement from the dining chair, as Lor coughed himself awake. Kylo nodded his head towards him, indicating that they should be quiet.

“What do I care if he listens to any of it? He’s a dead man anyway.” He turned to Lor, pointing his finger in the shape of a gun. “You hear that, old man? We’re going to blow your fucking brains out. That’s what happens when you cross the First Order.”

“But first--” Hux squatted in front of the man – “you’re going to tell us who you're working for?”

Lor’s mouth opened and closed.

“No one,” he answered hoarsely.

Hux stood, wringing his hands with impatience. “I’m growing tired of your lies!” He nodded to the right and from out of the shadows, one of the knights stepped forward and punched him on the side of the skull.

Lor’s head dropped forward, as a cry of pain escaped lips. Seemingly grasping onto the last threads of strength, Lor turned to Kylo and peered at him with those old blue eyes, with understanding and resolve.

“Tell us!” Hux screeched.

Another blow to the head, this time from Seth Ren. He was a newer member of the fold, one of the few whose lusts for violence and money had lead him to seek a job from Snoke directly. Once the sound of knuckles cracking against bone had subsided, Seth readjusted a bloody ring on his finger and stepped back into the darkness.

Kylo gnawed at the thumb of his glove. A habit he hadn’t done since he was a kid. The

other hand, reached behind his back, feeling the cool, matte handle of the pistol.

“We can do this all night, old man.” Hux gestured for another one of his men to step forward.

“No one.” Lor’s lips mouthed the words. And then he shook his head, raising tear-stained eyes to Kylo.

He had nothing left.

And he would never break.

”Please.” The words came out empty, a breath of air, gasping. But Kylo heard it, deep in his heart, in the dark places of his mind where his nightmares lived and breathed. He would hear that word for the rest of his life.

Kylo shook his head, the motion was barely there, a silent message. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t—

“ Please! ” This time Lor found his voice, desperate and broken.

Kylo squeezed his eyes shut for a pause and when he opened them, Lor’s gaze was reaching out to him. Begging.

Kylo pulled the gun from behind him, levelling the barrel so it was aimed between Lor’s eyes. “Time’s up, traitor.”

“Wait!” Hux jumped out in front of him, gleefully pulling out his phone and setting it to record. “Smile at the camera, maggot.”

“Stop it,” Kylo said between gritted teeth.

“Come on, San Tekka. I want to see a big smile while we put a bullet in your head.”

Kylo’s hands shook; he was so close to grabbing Hux and slamming his face into the window. He breathed again. Centre. Control . He needed to stay in control.

Lor whimpered, forcing a weak smile onto his lips.

“There now,” Hux beamed at him, holding the camera steady.

Kylo pulled the trigger, slowly, inwards…

I’m sorry.

The grandfather clock counted down: Three, two, one.

“No, wait!” Hux shouted, reaching out, but Kylo fired the shot.

And it was over.

Kylo would come to remember two things from that moment. One was the way the bullet drilled so neatly into the front of Lor’s head, ripping through skin, skull and tissue until the back of his head exploded on the floral and lace curtains behind. And second, was the way Lor welcomed death. Not in fear or regret, but like an old friend. His eyes genuinely smiled and there was light in them.

In the end, it wasn’t Kylo he was looking at, but behind him, to something that gave him a purpose to die. And for a long time after it happened, Kylo wondered whether he saw the woman he loved. Whether the prospect of an eternity with her made his death feel like a homecoming.

The gun released a shallow breath of smoke and the room fell silent, filled with the acrid tang of gunpowder. Kylo pocketed the weapon behind him once more, struggling to push it beneath his belt with quaking fingers. The moments, after all, played out like the blur of a nightmare. Hux and the knights spoke enthusiastically, raiding the fridge, emptying Lor’s liquor cabinet and sharing the contents.

“Well done, Ren. I didn’t think you had it in you,” Hux said, an edge of a surprise to his voice. “Snoke will be pleased.”

Kylo nodded, like a puppet on a string.

“Here.” Another knight, he didn’t even see who it was, slapped a bottle of vodka in his hand. “Drink up.”

The next few minutes played out at mixed speed. In some ways the entire world had slowed, the sounds around him pushed into the background, his own thoughts loud and demanding, and the next minute his mind was empty and then there were other people talking, their voices rising and falling, their drinks filling and emptying, laughing as they cleared out any valuables and smashed photos and threw teacups against the brown wallpaper. They were drunk.

Drunk . Kylo opened the bottle, pouring the contents into his mouth, enough that his cheeks were filled and the sharp alcohol dribbled down his chin.

Hux slapped him on the back. Snoke wanted to speak to him, congratulate him on the job. Kylo nodded, answering in monosyllables.

Hux sidled up to him, lips curled in a devious smile. “You know the rules, the one who spills the most blood, cleans it up.”

Kylo swayed, he hadn’t drunk enough to sway, but something in his body was struggling to stay upright. “Fuck off. Do that yourself.”

“No can do.” Hux tapped on his pocket. “I need to get this back to Snoke.”

“This is not your victory,” he hissed a Hux, gripping his fingers into the man’s forearm, aiming to bruise. Hux’s phone beeped with a message and he pulled the phone out, holding it in front of him like some peace offering.

“That’s him now.” Hux checked the message, smiling coyly before turning the screen to show Kylo.

Kylo can clear the evidence. I expect you back here in 20.

“Tough break, Kylo.” Hux beamed at him. “I’ll see you back at the whore house.”

One by one they left, even Dom, who had come sometime after the gun went off, decided to wait outside, saying he was going to hurt if he had to look at the splatter of brains on the window any longer.

Once they were gone, Kylo sunk down on his knees. Head raised, eyes lowered, forcing himself to see the body, to memorise the way the blood flooded out of his head. He tried to breathe, but his chest caved in on itself and his eyes stung with tears.

There it was. He was a murderer. Whatever the reason, whatever excuses he would tell himself in the dark of night, that much was true and nothing he could do would ever take that away.

He was about to let it all go, to stop fighting the bleeding tears that wanted to stream from his eyes, to roar, and beat his chest, and rip this place apart. He was at the gates, about to let it all spill out when the phone in his pocket began to vibrate on silent.

He pulled it out. Unknown number.

He pressed answer, and waited.

Rey leaned against the window of her room, watching the rain fall softly against the street lights. Had it really only been four days since she’d waited in this very spot for her first client? The mysterious Kylo Ren, who didn’t want her to look, touch or ask questions.

Four days and everything she’d felt about him had changed. Into what, she wasn’t sure. Her world had been shaken and broken, everything falling back into different places, feelings shifted, beliefs challenged. Her own personal earthquake.

She closed her eyes, squeezing them until they blanched with dissipating colours. The creeping fingers of dread taking hold the longer she waited...

Where are you, Kylo?

She shook her head, staring out into the black expanse, studying every shape and movement in the street below. Mindlessly reaching into her pockets and twisting the lining of them until her fingers brushed against the small folded note Kylo had given her.

She pulled it out, unfolding it. There was no name, or note, just a number.

Should she?

She didn’t have much battery left, but there was enough, at least, for this.

She dialled the keypad quickly, in case she changed her mind.

It rang. Twice.

The phone on the other end of the line answered. Silence.

“Kylo?” she asked, cringing at the way her own voice was so weak and uncertain.

There was a beat, and then a rushed, “Rey, are you safe?”

“I’m fine, but I—” She rolled her eyes at her own words. But what, Rey? What exactly is the reason you’re calling?

“Look, It’s not a good time.”

“Kylo,” she whispered into the phone, holding it close. “Please tell me what Snoke is making you do tonight.”

“Rey…” he began cautiously.

“Or just come back. Please, come back.”

“Rey…”

“We can do whatever you want. Anything. Hey, I’ll let you beat me at Risk if you want.”

A laugh, muffled, strained and not altogether genuine, filled with emotion that shouldn’t be there and then silence, again.

Pained, heavy silence.

“Don’t do it,” she pleaded.

Her phone beeped, warning her that she was about to run out of battery. It wasn’t enough time.

“I don’t understand what this thing is between us, Kylo, but it’s more—”

It’s more than professional, than friends, unfettered raw attraction underlying something deep and rich. A connection and longing that was slowly filling the empty places in her heart. She didn’t know how to say it. It was too soon. She didn’t know enough about him, and what she didn’t know certainly shouldn’t make her feel like this.

“It’s more than—” her words failed her.

“I know,” he almost whispered.

Rey closed her eyes and smiled, eyes filling with tears.

“Come back,” she said through a muffled sob. “Please come back to me.”

The sound on the other end dimmed into quiet, in the background she could hear the light tapping of a clock, it’s regular rhythm contrasting against the random pitter-patter of the rain.

“I have to go.” That voice, stronger now, resolved.

“Oh, okay.”

“Bye, Rey.”

“By—” The phone went dead, even as her answer hung in the air.

She stared at the blank screen and saved the contact, “B”.

And then she waited.

On the woolskin rug by the fire, leaning against the window, in the shower, lying in bed, body naked beneath the smooth silk sheets.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

And then she finally heard a knock at the door.

She leapt out of bed, the sheet draped around her body, bare feet sliding across the cool

wooden slats.

The knock sounded again and she walked faster, heart pounding, hand outstretched to the door handle.

She reached forward, curling her fingers around the cold metal handle and then—

She stopped dead.

Kylo had the keys.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The silence was louder than ever, only broken by the sound of rain, lashing against the window on whips of wind.

A knock, again. Harder. It made the door rattle, and Rey took a step back, eyes wide.

Again, and then a voice, low and guttural.

“Open the door, Rey.”

She froze. How could she be so stupid? Had he heard her coming to the door?

“Rey,” the voice sterner now, but still laced with the overtone of deceptive kindness. “Open the door now, it’s your boss, Alistair.”

She took another step back. Eyes darting from the window to the door, to the bathroom. Searching for an escape...

“I know you’re in there, little minx,” he crooned. “Open the door, and we can have a chat. Just a talk, nothing else.”

The door handle rattled again, but this time she could hear the sound of keys scratching against the lock.

She stepped backwards, fist to her mouth, heart racing. The door handle shook, being tugged this way and that. Pushed, pulled, and then more keys, scratching against the handle, and low, hissing curses.

She held her breath, eyes closed, listening to the sound. Waiting for the familiar click...

“Open the door your little bitch,” he growled. And this time he kicked at it, the base of the door giving in slightly with every blow.

Rey backed against the far wall, chest heaving with every breath, eyes darting around the room for anything she might use as a weapon.

“Rey,” Snoke sang to her.

“Rey.” His fingers, pawing at the door.

“Do you think you can turn him, pathetic child?”

She closed her eyes, not daring to move.

“I cannot be betrayed.” His voice coiled around her. “I cannot be beaten. I know his mind. I know the darkness in his soul.”

Those words, like poison, how long had he been destroying him, ripping away his humanity, turning him into a weapon for Snoke’s own causes?

She hated him. Hated Snoke more than she had ever hated any man.

And she was not scared of him.

She came closer to the door, head raised, shoulders back.

“You underestimate Ben Solo,” she said firmly. “And me.”

He chuckled, cruel and callous. Rey fought the urge to open it, to face him herself. Skywalker had taught her well. She knew her own strength and Snoke was alone.

“The sad thing is Rey, you don’t even know the half of it. What he’s already done to you.” Lies. He was lying to her. He had to be. “What he’s doing tonight.”

She covered her ears, not wanting to hear.

“He’s a murderer, Rey.”

“You’re a liar.”

“You will see, when he comes home dripping in blood, wanting to fuck you like the whore you are,” he laughed. “You will see.”

Once he was alone, Kylo vomited into the kitchen sink, the sting of vodka burning his throat. Hands shaking, he looked back at Lor, laying on the floor, body relaxed, jaw open, staring at him.

He wanted this.

Murderer, his mind whispered, and an unsettling cold seeped through him.

He begged you to do it.

Kylo took another drink of vodka, heat rising in his lungs as it went down.

He was so sorry. So fucking sorry for all of it. He dropped to his knees, breath heaving, ignoring the way the blood pooled around his legs, the way Lor just stared at him with an empty expression.

There was only one thing left to do now.

He pulled out his phone number and dialled.

After a moment’s pause, a muffled vibration began to sound from within the clock. He trudged over to it, rivulets of blood clinging to his boots, the reek of it clinging to his clothes. Opening the case cabinet, he reached inside and pulled Lor’s phone out.

At least he had time to hide this.

He hung up the call and searched through the message threads until he found one from Poe. They were supposed to meet later tonight, in twenty minutes to be exact.

He had to leave. But first—

He typed a message.

The First Order has taken the USB drive. It had everything on it. Kylo Ren’s here. Not much time. He knows about Rey, he’s going after her. Tell her to run for her own good, she needs to get away from him.

His thumb hovered over the send button. He had to make her run. His plan had failed and she wasn’t safe there, not without him. Not even with him.

She deserved better.

He hit send and almost instantly three little dots started dancing at the bottom of the screen, indicating that a message was being written in response.

Poe : What’s happening? Are you okay?

He didn’t reply, dropping the phone to the side and walking away.

“Hey, Kylo.” Dom was standing in the hall.

Had he seen what he’d just done?

Their eyes met, analytical and silent.

“We should go.”

Kylo nodded, directing one last look back at Lor.

“Stop at the bar on the way home. I need a drink.”

“You and me both,” Dom said, but there was something unsettled behind his smile and Kylo wondered if, despite everything he had done, this final act had blown his entire cover.

Rey waited with her feet planted on the floor as Snoke’s laughter had followed him down the hall. Once she was sure he was truly gone she ran into the bathroom, splashing water on her neck and head, staring back at the colourless face in front of her. The face that was tired of hiding, of being scared. The face of someone who was ready to fight.

She retrieved her phone from beside the bed and dialled Poe’s number.

The phone rang once.

“Poe Dameron.”

“Poe, it’s Rey.”

“Oh my God, Rey, are you—”

“I don’t have any time, my battery is down to 1 percent and I can’t charge it here.”

“Wait, Rey, this is important you need to listen to me—”

“No,” she snapped. “ You listen to me! They’ve gone after San Tekka.”

“I know, I’m going there right away, but Rey—”

“I’ll do it, Poe. I’ll help you bring down Snoke,” she said in a rush.

The phone went dead and she smiled, satisfied that if nothing else, she had gotten this message out safely.

The rain was falling in lashing sheets by the time Kylo returned to number 12. He collapsed out of the van, and would almost have fallen flat on his face, had Dom not steadied him at the last minute. The red lamp above splashed his face with red shadows as he pounded on the door.

“Kylo Ren.” Phasma opened the door with a surly stare. “What’s the emergency?”

He pushed past her and through to the booking diary, scanning the evening’s vacancies.

“Do you mind?”

He grunted in response and she snapped the diary closed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Are any of the girls available now?”

Phasma looked disdainfully at the blood now smeared on her desk. She pulled a cloth from under the desk and cleaned it up, glaring at him as she did so. “Don’t get fucking blood on the desk. It’s bad for business.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

Phasma raised a solitary eyebrow at him. “You’re pissed.”

“No shit, Sherlock. A girl. Tessa. I don’t care. Any one of them. Someone who knows the rules.”

“Sure,” she said slowly, as if the concept was too difficult for him to understand. “Are you looking to double up?”

Kylo’s entire face furrowed. “No, I just need one.”

“Well, go and fuck Rey, then. That’s what you’re paying her for.”

“Rey?” he asked. She shouldn’t be here. Poe would have warned her by now . “Rey’s gone.”

“What on earth have you taken, Kylo? She’s upstairs, waiting for you.”

Why was she still here? The question carried him up the stairs. Had she not gotten the message? He was going faster now, leaping up the steps in twos, using the railing to propel his body faster. And if she had, and she was still here, then what did that mean?

He pulled out the keys, dropping them on the floor until he found the right one and shakily put it in the lock. With his heart hammering in his chest, he sneaked in and closed it quietly, careful to lock it again.

The room was dark, apart from the soft glow of street lights shining in through the wide windows. She had left the curtains open, and as the light reflected through the glass he could make out her handprint smeared on the window.

A small puff of air leapt from his lungs, something between a laugh and a cry. He followed the path from the window to the bed, where there was a trail of clothes on the floor.

Kylo tilted his head to the side as he stared at Rey’s dark hair flowing freely over the pillow, the white sheets framing the outlines of her body, curving over her waist and hips, stretching out over her left leg, the other peeking out from beneath the sheet, silken smooth. Bare.

There was a sensation of light in his chest, weightless and warm. He stepped forward and her right arm curled over the pillow, hugging it close to her, at the same time the sheet dropped exposing the side of her breast.

Naked.

She was naked.

Blood throbbed at his core and he came closer. This time, the floorboard creaked and she sat upright, clutching the sheet around her body and darting her eyes through the darkness.

“Kylo!” she hissed. “You scared the shit out of—”

He was standing in the streetlight, austere lines of it mixing veins of light and darkness across his body and she bent her knees up to her chest, shuffling back. The whites of her eyes wide and unnerving.

“You’re--you’re covered in blood.”

He looked down at the burgundy stains on his clothes, damply sticking to the hard lines of his body.

“Why are you here?” he sneered, reaching behind his back and pulling out the gun. Without a care, he threw it to the ground and Rey jumped as it slid across the floorboards.

She gasped as it hit the wall. “What are you thinking?” She turned the bed lamp on and glared at him. Her face told him everything he needed to know, that and the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

“Why do you have a gun?”

He walked away, ripping the clothes off his body like they were on fire. In the bathroom, he let the water wash over him, watching the way it was stained with bright pools of red. Crimson droplets ran down his body, catching on the hairs of his leg. His breaths became heavy, shaking and constrained, as his hands scratched violently through his hair. He couldn’t stop shaking, even though the water was so hot that it scolded him, even though his chest was flaming with red lashes from the heat. All he could see was the rivers of blood, flooding around his feet, running eddies of swirling pink spirals.

Tears streamed down his face, silently, and he gasped for air. His mind was exploding, eruptions of pain and regret and hate, the emotions overcame everything else. He needed to explode, to pound it all away. To force the reality back into the locked vault, where he kept all the hateful and cruel things he had inflicted on others. But the door was opening and the demons were escaping. And there was only one way he knew to lock them away again.

He turned the shower off, grabbing a towel that hung on the wall and wiped his face and hair with it. All the while, he advanced on her. She must have seen it in his eyes, in the manner in which he stalked, quiet and purposeful, more like a hunter than a lover.

She edged back, shaking her head.

“You spoke to Poe tonight.”

She refused to meet his eye, looking to the left and onto the door.

“And you’re still here?”

“You practically locked me in here, remember?” she snapped.

“You were always a fighter,” Kylo gave her a half-smile, but it was cold and empty. He reached the edge of the bed and kneeled up on it. “That’s what I love most about you. You never take anything lying down.”

The bed creaked with the weight of his body and his towel dropped. Rey’s lips parted, and her eyes fleetingly dropped below his navel. Her face flushed at the sight, realising how much he must have wanted her.

The weight of her gaze made him jolt and grow, but when she met his gaze again, there was fear there.

She feared the monster, and well she should, for he was a murderer, a violent, black-hearted ghost.

He remembered the sound of his old name on her lips, how his heart flipped and jumped at the way it came so natural and right.

But it was all a lie.

“Turn the light off,” he said quietly.

He had merely forgotten who he was.

“Do it,” Kylo pressed her

She didn’t move.

But tonight had made it all rush back to him.

Ben Solo was dead.

He reached his hand toward the light. The room plunged into darkness.

And Kylo Ren was the villain.

#crimson lane #reylo #reylo au #reylo fan fic #reylo fan fiction #reylo fan fic rec

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commander-yinello · 7 years

Note

JuZenWriter Queen, may I ask for an AU based on april's fool dlc where Jumin is transformed into a cat and Zen has to take care of him? No one knows why but now Jumin is genuinely a cat and for his own safety RFA wants to hide him somewhere and who's better than the allergic albino? some funny hc how Zen complains a lot but is really careful with Jumin, even talks with him and pets him and some fluff? then zen is kinda sad when Ju turns back and Ju acts like he doesn't remember, but ofc he does

*slams head down on desk* YASSS I live for this!! Q-q-queen?I’m not worthy! o///o I’ve separated this into part fic, part headcanons

“You can’tbe serious.”

When Jaeheecalled him in a panic, asking him to come to C&R immediately, Zen expected aridiculous crisis. Maybe aliens invaded. Or a bomb went off. Maybe Jumin gaveher a holiday and she doesn’t know how to handle it.

Instead ablack cat sat on Jumin’s desk, staring back at the two. A suit lay in a pile onthe leather chair. Zen instantly covered his whole face with his jacket,feeling his nose itch.

“I knew Mr.Han had stayed last evening to finish work. This morning when I walked into hisoffice, I was horrified to see he had turned into a cat.”

“Are you sosure it’s Jumin?” Zen knew the question was a bad one – the cat’s gray eyes andemotionless expression gave it all away. A cat that was very, unmistakably thestupid Trust Fund. “How in the world did this happen?”

Jaehee’sexpression told him she had no clue either. It was typical that the jerk wouldfind a bizarre way to make their lives miserable.

“Why thehell did you call me?! You know I’m allergic!”

Jaeheelifted her glasses. “I need your help Zen. In this state, Mr. Han is in noshape to work and someone needs to take care of him that I can trust to keepthis confidential, unless we want C&R’s image to be ruined.”

“So askanyone from the RFA! Why me?”

“V is awayas always, Seven would kill him or the other way around, MC can’t leave Rika’sapartment, Yoosung is on a field trip with his university and I need to do allof Mr. Han’s work until he comes back. I tried to contact Chairman Han but hewon’t respond. I suppose I can ask Ms. Sarah Choi…”

Zen’s eyetwitched for reasons he didn’t understand. “Her? You might as well kill him,”he groaned. He couldn’t believe he was going to say this. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

As Jaeheewent to locate a cat carrier and heavy allergy medicine, Zen watched cat Juminnudge a pen on the table slowly until it fell off. It prompted Zen to sneeze,upon which Jumin purred. Shit, what was he getting himself into?

***

Bringing cat Jumin home, Zen wears every protective item he can find. Gloves,mask, he nearly doesn’t equip a hazard suit. He looks ridiculous and he knowsit

He plansnot to get near Jumin if he can help it, even with allergy meds

“Jumin, don’tget too close to the window!”

That planfails in 2 seconds (does Zen is mom?)

Jumin is avery picky eater

With C&R funds given by Jaehee, Zen can buy the most expensive catfood

But Zen isstubborn too

“This iswhat commoner cats eat! Get used to it!”

Staringcontests are hard when you’re trying not to sneeze

Jumin jumpson the table

“Don’t youdare.”

And knocks overZen’s photo

One doesnot simply fight a cat but Zen is tempted to

No one prepared Zen for kitty litter

‘Hopefullythe jerk will change back to human soon and the nightmare can end.’

WheneverZen comes home from practice, Jumin is waiting for him

Justsitting a small distance away, staring at the door, prancing off when Zen walksin

It makesZen wonder if Jumin is bored or lonely

Zen decidesto buy a bunch of toys from the pet store

Tries themall to figure out how cats, especially jerk ones, play in the first place

Juminignores everything and plays with Zen’s long hair

Zenimagines it makes him think of Elizabeth

It becomesroutine, Zen coming home, Jumin cat playing with his hair while Zen reads hisscript

He doesn’teven know when he’s taken off the gloves

Or the mask

Now thatZen doesn’t push him away every second, Jumin lays on Zen’s lap every eveningwhen the actor relaxes in front of the television

Zen won’tadmit he likes it, but pets him anyway

Jumin won’tstop meowing whenever there’s a commercial for wine

Zen gets someof that wine for cats (“Ridiculous idea. I’m shocked Jumin didn’t invent this.”)

Jumin lovesit (“Guess it really is Jumin.”)

SometimesJumin sleeps more than normal

Zen is veryworried

“Dude, areyou sick? If yes, meow once.”

“Mewprrr~”

“What doesthat even mean?”

Juminalways becomes energetic at the end of the evening and Zen realizes he’s spenthours fussing over Trust Fund cat

One night,Zen has a terrible nightmare which fades away when something warm and heavylies on his chest

He wakes upwith Jumin cat purring loudly and refusing to move

Zen coughsand sneezes. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to hurt me or comfort me.”

Jumin catlooks offended and it makes Zen laugh

Zen wondersif cats like fishbread

“Don’t lookat me like that, it’s fresh.”

Jumincontinues to look at Zen like he’s mad

He secretlytakes selfies with cat Jumin even though he knows he can’t show anyone

Two weeks afterhe’s taken in cat Jumin, Zen comes home and finds a very naked and veryconfused CEO on his couch

Commencepanic version 2

***

“I’m home.God, practice was tough today, but-“ Zen interrupted himself as he entered hishome, seeing nothing waiting for him.

Oh, right. Juminwasn’t a cat anymore. When the CEO turned human again, Jaehee picked him up. Theyboth had to explain why exactly Jumin was naked in Zen’s house. It seemed likehe didn’t remember much, if anything at all.

Thismorning the actor had even taken the medicine, the act built into his dailyroutine. A toy mouse still lay in the corner.

His housesuddenly felt very empty.

His phonebuzzed and the strangest feelings ran through him as he saw Jumin’s name on thescreen.

“I wantedto thank you properly for your help. My experts still can’t figure out whathappened.”

“No needfor thanks dude, I’m just glad it’s over.” Zen fidgeted with his hair. Heshould tie it again.

“I see. Allowme to pay for your expenses and time.”

Ragebubbled up inside the actor. “I got enough from Jaehee, I didn’t do thisbecause I wanted handouts!” he yelled. Shit, why was he so upset that Jumindidn’t remember? Wasn’t this ideal, the two of them going back to how thingswere? “It’s fine, really,” he sighed.

There was along silence and Zen wondered if the line had gone dead.

“I can’ttell if you’re trying to hurt me or comfort me,” Jumin’s voice had a hint oflaughter in it.

Zen’s heartstopped. All the anger drained out of him and something small and happy sat inhis stomach, afraid to grow bigger. “Jumin, you remember-?”

Jumin coughedloudly. “I need to focus on my neglected work. If there’s anything else, I can…come by later. To pick up things or… otherwise.”

Zen smiled.“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

#did I do it right aaahhh #it's so cute #cat jumin is so much like a normal cat xDDD #juzen #zumin #juminzen #jumin x zen #mystic messenger #drabble #fanfiction

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fragmentedshards · 5 years

Text

The Final Curtain, Chapter Ten

The Flight of the Robin, Part One

Aleistor Chamber, or the Viscount of Druitt, stood at his full height in the doorway to the balcony and cast sweeping glances over the audience members with his amethyst eyes. He smiled, the same dashing yet sinister smile which sent shudders down the spines of all who knew him.

“How lovely to see such an impressive gathering of connoisseurs of the performing arts, all flocking here tonight beneath this celestial rooftop to watch my very own production!” the Viscount sighed, waving his hands about dramatically.

“Wha- his production?” Ciel hissed, his skin crawling. He had not forgotten the nature of the secret underground parties Viscount Druitt had once thrown, and his own narrow escape. He glanced down at his ticket. The Flight of the Robin, it read. He cringed, knowing he was in for a long night.

“The show will begin soon, but I could not allow it to start without first coming to personally greet all who have-” the Viscount gushed, but stopped and gasped when his eyes fell upon Matilda. Ciel resisted the urge to slap a palm to his face.

“Why...” Viscount Druitt whispered, rushing to Matilda’s side and grasping both of her gloved hands in his own. “Why, I declare I have never seen such an exquisite specimen as you! Cloaked in such deep scarlet like the blood pulsing through a heart impassioned with love, intriguing golden eyes like drops of the sun placed on the face of a porcelain doll by a goddess! I must confess that if I do not learn your name, my enrapturing cardinal, I shall live forever in regret until my final days!”

Matilda stared at the Viscount, completely speechless. She had barely inhaled to reply before Sebastian stepped in.

“This is the Lady Capucine Brodeur, a distinguished noblewoman who has traveled all the way from France to witness your masterpiece,” Sebastian smiled, intentionally adulating the Viscount to distract him.

Viscount Druitt put the back of his hand to his forehead and sighed. “France? How divine!” he gave a little start and glanced at his pocket watch. “I’m afraid I must be off now; the show must go on!”

And with that, the Viscount fluttered out of the balcony, leaving the bewildered party staring after him. Ciel rubbed his temples.

“I cannot believe I have to sit through this,” he muttered.

As the lights began to dim in the theatre, the earl noticed two women in one of the balconies across from them. One was wearing an aubergine gown and had fiery ginger hair, and the other wore an aqua gown and her hair was the dullest shade of brown. Both women were unusually pale and their eyes were underlined with purple, as if they had not slept for several days. Ciel pointed the two women out to Sebastian and the rest of the party, in a low voice as Aleistor Chamber addressed the audience from the stage.

“Those are the sisters who run Kurios Toy Emporium,” he whispered. “Florentia and Theodosia Loric. It makes sense that they would attend a ballet such as this; I expect they are always on the watch for inspiration for new products, as I am also.” In a much lower voice he added to Sebastian; “Keep an eye on them; they may just be sick or sleep-deprived, but they have the looks of people tormented.”

Sebastian nodded and whispered back, “Yes, my lord.”

The velvet curtain rose and the orchestra began to play the lively overture. Several ballerinas, all in costumes reminiscent of soirée attire, danced about the stage and pretended to mingle with one another. Ciel gritted his teeth and sank low in his seat as the prima ballerina appeared in the center of the stage, her costume an imitation of the pink and black dress he had worn himself while going undercover for the Jack the Ripper case. He could hear Sebastian snickering behind him and knew that no amount of glaring would stop the butler’s laughter. Beside him, Matilda gasped quietly and lowered the opera glasses.

“I do know her,” she whispered to Ciel. “She is wearing a wig, but I still recognize her face.”

Ciel nodded at this confirmation, relieved to have extra help on the case. With his heightening senses and Sebastian’s dulling ones, the end result was that they both became rather average, and until they could find a solution to that predicament the earl would need all the help he could get for Underworld cases.

The production dragged on for Ciel, though Elizabeth, Soma, and Matilda appeared to be enjoying it. Lau and Ran Mao had, it seemed, stopped paying attention. The earl suffered through watching the ballerina interpretation of himself flirt with the male ballerina playing Viscount Druitt during an especially cheap scene in the woods. He did have a laugh, however, when two male ballerinas reenacted the magic trick Sebastian and Lau had performed at the party that night. Sebastian, too, could not help but smile at the dramatic portrayal.

“If I could not provide a distraction worthy of being replicated in a ballet,” he muttered to himself. “What kind of a Phantomhive butler would I be?”

The curtain fell as the ballerina playing Sebastian stepped out of the sword-addled wardrobe unharmed, and the theatre brightened to signal intermission. Ciel turned to Matilda.

“After the show is over, see if you can meet Bryony outside.” he instructed. “Try and find out what’s going on. I wish I knew more of what Her Majesty was concerned about, then I could give you clearer orders, but for now I only know that something sinister is tied to this ballet. Find out as much about that as you can.”

“Of course, Lord Phantomhive,” Matilda nodded, polishing the opera glasses absentmindedly. She had yet to take her eyes off the stage.

Ciel shifted in his seat to face Sebastian. “And you: after the show, find the Loric sisters and set up a meeting between them and myself for the next opening in my schedule.”

“Yes, my-”

Sebastian’s signature reply was cut short by another surprise arrival in the balcony.

“Fancy seeing you here, Lord Phantomhive,” came a grouchy voice from the left side. All nine heads turned in that direction once more, and the face that greeted them was just as familiar as that of the Viscount, though much more grave.

“I could say the same for you,” Ciel retorted, his expression almost smug. “Sir Arthur Randall.”

Sir Arthur, the police commissioner of Scotland Yard, glowered at Ciel before noticing Matilda. “And who might you be?”

“Bonsoir monsieur,” Matilda introduced herself in French, surprising the entire party. “Je m’appelle Vicomtesse Capucine Brodeur. Comment allez-vous?”

“Where was that during the meeting with the Viscount?” the earl muttered, his face positively blue with annoyance. Shaking it off, he turned to the police commissioner. “So why are you here, Sir Arthur?”

“I know just as much as you do, Watchdog,” the gruff man seethed. “Perhaps even less.”

Ciel crossed his arms and scoffed. “Well, I don’t know very much. I was given my orders with as little detail as possible. Frankly I was hoping you knew more than I, that way you could tell me what I lack in this case.”

Sir Arthur grimaced at Ciel before admitting, “This particular troupe seems to be the target of several attempted murders. Never the same technique twice, but always with the apparent intention of eradicating the prima ballerina.”

Matilda’s eyes grew wide and she gasped, refraining at the last moment from exclaiming in shock and fright. Sebastian had only to look at her to understand what would have come out of her mouth had she not covered it up: Not Bryony!

“My my,” Lau smiled coolly, stroking Ran Mao’s thigh. “This intermission is shaping up to be far more interesting than the ballet itself, don’t you think so, Ran Mao?” The assassin nodded silently as usual.

“I see,” Ciel mused aloud. “So Her Majesty is concerned for the safety of this ballerina and the apparent obsession with her death. Are there any clues regarding who might be the perpetrator in these attempted crimes?”

“None yet,” Sir Arthur growled. “But you can be sure Scotland Yard will handle it as soon as any clues surface. You, Watchdog, may stay out of this.”

“And if it turns out to be something far more sinister than what the Yard is used to?” the earl inquired smugly. “What will you do when you find yourself up to the ears in unexplained phenomena?”

The commissioner gritted his teeth. “Scotland Yard will take care of this,” he repeated, stumped by Ciel’s question. He seemed to want to say more but was abruptly prevented by Edward Abberline, who had been standing quietly behind him the entire time.

“Hello there, Lord Phantomhive!” he exclaimed, quickly inserting himself between Ciel and Sir Arthur. He grinned nervously, hoping to contain the conflict before it grew too large for the theatre balcony. “Such a very interesting show tonight, isn’t it? Simply fascinating. Unfortunately, the commissioner and I must be off now-“ he gave Sir Arthur a pointed look. “We will undoubtedly run into you again before this is all over. Have a nice night!”

Sir Arthur stared at Abberline, wishing he could strangle the life out of the impertinent inspector right then and there. Exhaling heavily, he threw a final glare in Ciel’s direction before departing. “Your compulsion to protect that detestable brat, Abberline,” the commissioner muttered as they returned to their own seats. “Will land you in a mire of troubles one of these days.”

0 notes

electricoutdoors · 5 years

Text

12 Ways to Sharpen an Axe Without Tools

How to Sharpen an Axe Without Tools

Axes are one of the most important tools that you can have in the wild, but after a while they get dull and if you’re not prepared you could end up with a blunt axe that isn’t chopping nearly as good as it should. Knowing how to sharpen an axe without tools is an important skill to have.

How do you sharpen an axe without tools? These are 12 ways that you can sharpen an axe without tools:

Use a Multi-tool

Base of a Ceramic Cup

Sharpen it on a Rock

Sharpen it on Concrete

Sharpen it on a Car Window

Use a Glass Bottle

Emery Board

Spine of a Knife

Use a Shovel

Back of Another Axe

Strop it with a Leather Belt

Improvised Sharpening Stone

Keep reading to learn the best ways to sharpen that dull axe! [wc_toggle title=“Table of Contents” padding=“” border_width=“” class=“” layout=“box”]

How to Sharpen an Axe Without Tools

Sharpen an Axe Without Tools

How to Sharpen an Axe

Safety Gear

What Angle Do You Sharpen an Axe to?

How Sharp Should an Axe Be

Should an Axe be Razor Sharp?

Sharpening an Axe with the Proper Tools

Improvised Axe Sharpening Techniques

Sharpen Your Axe with a Leatherman or Gerber

Use the Base of a Ceramic Coffee Cup

Sharpen an Axe on a Rock

Sharpen an Axe on Concrete

Sharpen an Axe on a Car Window

Use a Broken Glass Bottle to Sharpen Your Axe

Emery Board

Sharpen an Axe on the Spine of a Knife

Use a Shovel to Sharpen Your Axe

Use the Poll of another Axe to Sharpen Your Axe

Strop it with a Leather or Nylon Belt

Improvised Sharpening Stone

Getting a Perfectly Sharp Axe with These Techniques

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Sharpen an Axe Without Tools

These methods will work with any kind of axe, tomahawk or hatchet. From here on out when I say axe I mean any of these three tools. Most of these techniques will work for just about any knife, or other sharp instrument.

Before you start using any of these techniques, you should decide if it’s really worth potentially ruining your edge or not. Some of these are almost as good as having a real sharpening stone, but others can cause you to have to do a lot of work when you finally get the proper equipment to sharpen your axe.

How to Sharpen an Axe

Just because we don’t have any tools to sharpen our axe, doesn’t mean that we aren’t going to do our best to get it get the edge into a suitable working condition. The main thing that will get your axe sharp and into cutting shape is getting the angle correct and keeping it as uniform as possible.

Safety Gear

Since we’re sharpening an axe on whatever we have available, I’m going to assume that you may not have access to every piece of safety gear that you should have. If you have access to them, use them, if not, just know that you need to protect your eyes, hands, and fingers when you’re sharpening your axe.

Safety Glasses - If you have safety glasses then you should wear them while sharpening your axe. Even your prescription glasses or sunglasses are better than nothing.

Gloves - A good pair of leather gloves are always a good idea when you set out to sharpen an axe. It not only prevents you from cutting your hands on the blade, it also keeps the instrument that you’re using to sharpen the axe from coming in contact with your hands and fingers which can be just as bad or worse than the blade itself.

Clamp or Vise - A clamp or vise makes getting a good edge on your axe much easier and it lets you get the angle of the blade just right without having to balance the axe and sharpen it at the same time. You can even improvise a clamp with rocks, wood or ratchet straps if you’re out in the woods away from a workbench.

What Angle Do You Sharpen an Axe to?

When you sharpen an axe, you need to pay attention to the angle of the bevel at the blade (the bit) end. An axe should not be a consistent wedge shape. Ideally, it will have a convex grind.

Most axes should have a 30 - 40 degree angle at the very end of the blade and gradually move toward a 15 - 20 degree angle about ½ inch up. This slightly bulging shape is known as a convex grind.

It’s a stronger grind than other ways of sharpening the blade and is great for holding an edge on an axe that’s going to be slammed into relatively hard material like wood over and over again. A convex grind also good for an axe because it helps separate the wood as the axe passes through it and prevents the axe from binding in the wood that it’s cutting.

How Sharp Should an Axe Be

There seems to be a myth floating around out there that you don’t want to have your axe as sharp as it can be. An axe should be as sharp as you can get it!

Sharp axes make the work of cutting through wood or splitting logs much easier. Besides making the work easier, a sharp axe is also way safer than a dull axe.

Dull axes have a tendency to bind in wood, bounce off their targets and land glancing blows. All of these make using a dull axe much more dangerous than a sharp axe.

Should an Axe be Razor Sharp?

This question comes up over and over so I feel like I need to stress it one more time. Every bladed tool that you own should be as sharp as you can get it. This goes for axes as well.

Sharpening an Axe with the Proper Tools

I’m going to cover how to sharpen an axe with the proper tools first because it will help you to understand what your goal is when you’re using an improved technique. It’ll help you get your axe back to a perfect edge once you get it home and can use the right tools to sharpen it up again.

Start with a longer bastard file (somewhere around 12 inches is what I prefer). Bastard files get their name because they aren’t coarse and they aren’t fine, they’re somewhere in between.

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A set of 3 files (fine, bastard, and coarse) is all you will really ever need if you get a quality set with a decent handle. Just buy a decent set so you don’t have to buy them over and over again!

Pick up a file card as well (although any wire brush will work) to clean out the material that builds up in the file.

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You’re going to clamp the axe down in a vise, if you have one, with the blade pointing up. Feel the sides of the cutting edge for any nicks, dents or chips. You’re going to be removing these with the file.

Then start filing along the edge at an angle that is correct for your axe. Don’t get too crazy about worrying about the angle. You just want to make sure you have a narrower edge for a cutting axe and a wider edge for a splitting axe.

You want to do the same number of strokes on each side of the axe. I like to make about 4 or 5 passes on one side then the same number on the opposite side. Keep going back and forth on each side until you get all of the nicks and dings out of the blade.

At this point, you should have a fairly sharp and perfectly useable axe, but in order to get a very sharp edge, you need to take it one step further.

For this step, you’re going to start smoothing the edge with a sharpening puck. You can use a traditional rectangular sharpening stone, but the puck shape makes it easier to sharpen larger tools like axes.

A sharpening puck also fits into a backpack really easily so you don’t have to resort to the methods that were going to discuss later on!

With the axe still clamped into your vise, line the coarse side of the puck up along the blade at the same angle that you’ve been using your file and start going back and forth along the blade in circular motions. Again, you want to do this an equal number of times on each side.

I like to make 4 or 5 passes with the coarse side of the puck, then switch to the other side. I do this a total of 3 times then switch to the fine side of the puck and repeat the process again.

That’s all there is to it. Don’t get too crazy worrying about the perfect angle, just get the feel for it and you’ll be good to go.

Improvised Axe Sharpening Techniques

Let’s be honest, just because you can do something, doesn’t mean that you should. Some of these toolless sharpening techniques fall into that category. These are listed roughly in the order of usefulness.

Sharpen Your Axe with a Leatherman or Gerber

I really like this because it’s almost as effective as properly sharpening your axe at home and most people never think of it.

Yes, I know it’s cheating a little bit because a multi-tool is obviously a tool, but it’s something that so few people discuss, and it’s really effective so I had to mention it.

If you have a multitool with a file in it, you’re good to go! Simply open it up, secure that axe as best as you can, and file the edge in the same way as you would if you were at home sharpening the axe.

It’s so completely obvious but a lot of people never think about using the file they probably already have with them.

Base of a Ceramic Coffee Cup

It’s no secret that ceramic is a good material to sharpen all kinds of blades on, but most people overlook the simple things made of ceramic that are all around them. One of these is a coffee cup.

If you flip your coffee cup over, you’ll probably notice that the very bottom ring that touches the table isn’t glazed like the rest of it. This ring of exposed ceramic can be used to sharpen your axe really well.

Just line up the blade at the correct angle and draw it across the ceramic. You can also do small circles up and down the blade. Keep alternating back and forth on both sides to get the axe as sharp as you want it.

You can do the same thing with other ceramic objects around the house. The bottom of a ceramic plate works just as well. So does the back of a ceramic tile and the bottom of the cover on your toilet!

Sharpen an Axe on a Rock

Sharpening an axe on a rock shouldn’t seem like too much of a stretch to anyone. The abrasiveness of the rock will determine how much material is removed from the axe blade as you sharpen it and the shape of the rock will determine how easy it is for you to get a good edge.

Certain types of sandstone, slate, and shale create really flat surfaces when they’re broken. River rocks can also be great for sharpening an axe since they’re usually smooth from the water and rolling around against other rocks.

If you don’t have access to any of those, then you may need to do a little work on the rock itself before you use it to sharpen your axe. Just rubbing two rocks together can give you a surface that’s flat enough to sharpen on.

Larger, flat pieces of rock (like slate) can be put on the ground and used the same way that you’d use a sharpening stone. Smaller river rocks can be used the same way that you’d use a sharpening puck.

Sharpen an Axe on Concrete

You can sharpen an axe on concrete in pretty much the same way that you’d use a sharpening stone.

Concrete normally has the advantage of being flat so you can get the angle of your blade pretty uniform.

You can find concrete of varying coarseness, but even the smoothest concrete will be very course compared to a traditional sharpening stone. Concrete curbs are usually pretty smooth and uniform but steps and sidewalks work as well.

Start by holding your axe in both hands and lining it up so the blade meets the concrete at the correct angle for your blade. Then use small, gentle circular motions to sharpen the entire length of the blade. Repeat on the other side.

I suggest doing only one pass on each side and then seeing if your axe is sharp enough for you. You can do a lot of damage to an axe by rubbing it on concrete so go slow, be gentle and check the blade often.

Sharpen an Axe on a Car Window

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Sharpening an axe on a car window is done similarly to how you’d sharpen an axe on sharpening stone.

Hold the axe firmly in both hands, angle the head of the axe so it rests on the top of your car window at the angle you want to sharpen the blade at and slide it away from you, sharpening the entire blade as you go. Count the number of times that you do this and repeat the same number of times on the opposite side of the axe.

A car window is a very fine surface, so you could be here for a while if you’re trying to sharpen a very dull blade. This technique would be a good way to finish a sharpening job that you started using one of the other, coarser improvised methods of sharpening.

Use a Broken Glass Bottle to Sharpen Your Axe

Using a broken piece of glass to sharpen your axe may not seem like a good idea, but if it’s all that you have around, it can work! You actually don’t need to break the bottle at all, the key is to find a piece of glass that isn’t polished. The lid of bottles sometimes isn’t polished, so that’s a good place to start if you’re trying to find unpolished glass without having to break anything.

Hold the axe with one hand and the glass with the other. Lay the blade of the axe against the glass and gently slide it along the edge of the glass to remove some material.

Keep alternating on opposite sides of the axe until your blade is sharp again.

This doesn’t remove a lot of material on each pass so it’s going to take a while to get a good edge on your axe if it’s damaged at all. If this is the case, you’re better off starting with one of the other ways to sharpen an axe and then finish the process off with your glass.

Emery Board

Emery boards and nail files can be used to sharpen an axe too. You can sometimes find them in first aid kits but they’re most often found in manicure sets.

You can either lay the emery board on a flat surface or hold it in your hand. I prefer to lay it on a flat surface because it gives me better control over the axe head.

Then it’s just a simple matter of running the blade down the emery board over and over until it’s nice and sharp. Make sure that you do an equal number of passes on each side.

Some emery boards have a coarse and a fine side. If you have one of these, start on the coarse side and then finish sharpening on the fine side.

Sandpaper can be used in the same way. It’s best to glue to the sandpaper to a wooden block so you don’t have to worry about it moving. Then, when it’s glued down, you can sharpen your axe without a problem.

A lot of people actually prefer to use sandpaper over other means even when they have access to tools.

Sharpen an Axe on the Spine of a Knife

The spine of a knife can be used to realign the edge on your axe. This can’t repair damage to the axe like other sharpening methods but it does help perfect the edge from those methods.

Start with a knife with a good square spine if you have one. Then drag the blade across the spine like you would when you sharpen your axe using any other method.

If this doesn’t give you the edge that you’re looking for, start with a coarser sharpening method and then come back to use your knife to finish the edge.

Use a Shovel to Sharpen Your Axe

This works in the same way as sharpening on the spine of a knife.

Use any of the edges on the shovel to realign the edge of your axe or finish the sharpening from another improvised method. This may actually be a little more productive than trying to use the spine of a knife because you have more area to work with on the shovel.

Use the Poll of another Axe to Sharpen Your Axe

Again, this is more of a finishing technique than a good way to sharpen an axe from scratch. It can bring your axe back if it’s not too damaged but if it’s not going to get those chips and nicks out of the blade.

With this technique, you’re just going to run the blade of the axe down the back of another axe to help align the edge and smooth out some of the roughness from other sharpening methods.

Strop it with a Leather or Nylon Belt

Before your axe gets too dull and damaged, you can bring it back by stropping it with a leather or nylon belt.

To pull this off, all you need to do is secure your belt on one end and hold the other end with your hand. Then position the blade over the belt at an angle that matches the angle you’re aiming for with the blade facing away from your body. Finally, pull the axe head back toward you and repeat on both sides.

This is the perfect way to finish the blade after sharpening it with another method.

Improvised Sharpening Stone

This trick uses quartz, although you could probably use any rock that is easily smashed into a fine powder, and a piece of live wood. You can also use sand instead of smashing a stone into powder.

To start sharpening an axe this way, you’ll need to find a soft rock to smash into a fine powder. Quartz is what most people recommend since it’s easy to smash it into a powder. You can sometimes find quartz in river beds.

I’d rather just use sand since it’s a lot easier to find than quartz…

After you smash the rock, remove any large chunks and save the finer powder.

Then, strip the bark off of the live piece of wood that you chose. This should leave you with the exposed wood underneath.

Wet the wood and coat it in the crushed quartz or sand. This is going to give you a surface that you can draw the axe across to get a sharper edge.

This is probably the least effective method out of all of the methods outlined here, so I’d use it only as a last, last resort!

Getting a Perfectly Sharp Axe with These Techniques

Step One - Start by sharpening the blade with a multitool, a ceramic coffee cup, a smooth rock or on concrete. This will define the edge of the blade, remove most of the material that needs to be removed to make it sharp and remove large nicks or damage.

Step Two - The sharpening techniques in the first step are pretty rough and can leave a lot of scratches and imperfections in the edge of the axe blade. So now you’re going to smooth those out.

Use the car window technique, broken glass or emery board to act as a finer grit sharpening tool. These will remove the larger scratches left behind by the first round of sharpening and they’ll further sharpen the edge.

Step Three - Now it’s time to get the cutting edge of your axe as smooth as you can considering the tools that you’re using. In this step, use the spine of a knife, the poll of an axe, a shovel, or a leather belt to smooth out the edge of your blade and give it some finishing touches.

If you’re still not happy with the edge, you can go back to step two (or even step one) to rework the edge and try again.

The previous blog post 12 Ways to Sharpen an Axe Without Tools is republished from: https://readylifestyle.com/

12 Ways to Sharpen an Axe Without Tools published first on https://readylifesytle.tumblr.com

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