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ko-fanatic · 6 years

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Are You Sure This Isn’t The Black Magic Club? (part two)

Rating: Gen / Teen and Up

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Pairing(s): KyoKao

Summary: There was always something strange about the host club… (Halloween fic, witch!Kyoya, werewolf!Tamaki)

Other parts in this series: Part one

Kyoya stretched his arms above his head, back cracking, after he placed the book of shadows and orange candle on the table. His mind was straying to Tamaki, despite the fact that he knew the wolf was more than capable of looking after himself, even if he didn't give off that impression. He didn't want to tempt fate if he went there; three strong, capable werewolves roaming the grounds wasn't something you wanted to stroll into. Magick wouldn't protect him from being torn apart, after all; protection amulets and spells weren't that strong.

That, and he was busy. The full moon was the best night to cast spells, after all, and he needed to do the usual; focusing, money, and... one that was more than a little embarrassing to admit, even to himself. It was a nice night, however, and there was a pleasantly still air around the mansion with the only light being from the large, full moon above. The balcony outside of his bedroom wasn't that cold, either; he only had to wear a jumper over his shirt to stave off a majority of the chill.

His phone buzzed, cutting through the silence, but not unpleasantly so as Kyoya spotted Kaoru's name on the notification.

Kaoru: Hey kitty ;)

So cheesy. So corny... So cute. He hated the fact that he actually really liked the nickname, feeling too close to lovesick. It wasn't like they were dating... He actually wasn't too sure what you could dub their relationship, as no conversation had happened. Of course, he should bring it up, but... He didn't want to make things weird between him and Kaoru. Not only that, but rejection was a realistic outcome and he didn't know how he'd deal with it. He loved Kaoru, and he didn't want to let that go.

You: Don’t call me that, I keep telling you not to. What do you want, anyway?

He sighed, knowing that he couldn’t cast his spells while his phone dinged away in the background, but a smile quirked his lips. While it was inconvenient, he didn’t hate it. It wasn’t annoying, but that itself was annoying, and so the cycle continued; he was turning into Tamaki, for Godess’ sake!

Kaoru: I just wanted to see how you were getting on with those spells, Kyoya. After all, it’s not like witch magick is similar to Fae magic; it all seems horribly complicated!

Kyoya couldn't help the surge of soft warmth in his chest at that, despite desperately wanting to be irritated. His father was busy doing his own charms, so he wouldn't wonder what was taking his youngest son so long, but... What if his father did catch him acting like a love-struck moron?

Not too long ago, he'd been convinced that Kaoru was blinding him with some spell or other, like faeries often did to travellers in the woods. He thought the only way he could be acting that way was if he'd been cursed with this... affliction. This affection.

Still, as time went on, he realised that - while the twins kept up their heritage's reputation for tricks - they were mostly harmless pranks. Kaoru wouldn't worm his way into Kyoya's heart and mind, not so easily, and that left the conclusion that he probably should have come to first; this was self-inflicted.

Every touch seemed to burn, his head spinning off his shoulders and ending up somewhere in the clouds. Their thighs brushing as they sat on one of the sofa's in music room three, the lingering touch of fingers as one passed a cup of tea to the other, the friendly, teasing greeting of "hey kitty". He was beginning to realise that he was actually something of a hopeless romantic, seeing how sickly sweet his imaginings had become.

He daydreamed about soft lips pressed against his own, those dexterous fingers slipping under his shirt and rubbing little circles over his hipbones, that melodic voice murmuring "I love you"s into his neck. His face felt hot just thinking about it, wrapping his arms around his torso as those warm feelings squirmed under his skin. He was a mess, it was official. He just couldn't seem to help himself, not with Kaoru smiling so beautifully, red hair catching the sunlight.

He really had to pull himself together, but for now, he could just focus on his feelings. The money and focusing spells could wait a minute, especially as it would be best to cast his other spell in this condition.

You: It's a lot harder with you distracting me. I'll talk to you when I'm done.

He sent the message quickly, hand shaking slightly as he picked up his pink candle and jasmine oil, anointing the wax. It wasn’t like it was a bad spell, far from, but it still made him hesitant. After all, Kaoru was quite right when he said witch magick wasn't simple. It wasn't just the process, either; whatever you did or wished on someone else came back to you three-fold. It wasn't like fae, like the twins, who could simply will things into being. Out of all of them, he was probably the closest to human. Working out the consequences of something could give you a headache if you got lured into overthinking it, which Kyoya did frequently. It wasn't malicious, but it was selfish. Or was it? He just wished for Kaoru and him to be happy together... It wasn't selfless, not completely, but it was in an odd, grey area.

He hated magick. It'd be a lot easier if he was just a cat.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, not wanting them to affect the spell, he picked up the pen and paper he'd brought outside earlier, following the next step. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves, the odd bug or small animal, and the scratching of pen on paper.

Dear Kaoru,

I am so happy that you consented to start a relationship with me, and I must say that I completely adore you, and have for the longest time. I really enjoy our lazy Sunday mornings, laying on the sofa and watching television, as well as the more high-profile outings to restaurants. Time flies when I'm with you, and I just can't help but bathe in the warmth you give me when you say, "I love you". How your lips press to mine, like they were made for each other, and how our fingers interlace perfectly.

I love you, my dearest.

He wasn't sure if that was enough, or if that was even how he was supposed to write it. The instructions only said that he was meant to write a letter to the one you love as though you were writing in the future. He might have high grades, but it was different. Doing something like this made writer’s block something all too frequent, and he wasn’t sure what to stipulate. Honestly, he’d just be happy with Kaoru, so perhaps it was best to keep it vague.

He laid out the letter on the small table, placing the pink candle on top, and struck a match. The sound of the gunpowder lighting was awfully loud in the quiet night - at least to him - but he pressed on, holding the lit match to the candle’s wick as he said the incantation.

“This flame represents my burning desire; I summon the energies to draw to me a magical love,” He recited, the words feeling foreign on his tongue and his face feeling far to hot. He was so embarrassed that he, of all people, was casting a love spell. It was somewhat pathetic, really. He was just so enamoured by the fairy he shared so much in common with that, rather than talk to him like a normal person, he was casting a charm.

He sat there for a while, meditating on the feelings he had for Kaoru, eyes closed and taking calm, deep breaths. As long as he could, the instructions said, and so that’s what he did.

When he felt he was done, having thought on his saccharine fantasies more than enough, he folded up his letter and drizzled some of the molten, pink wax to seal it. All that was left was to place the candle back on the letter, and wait for it to burn out, then bury its remains. He’d tuck the letter in his book of shadows, and the spell would be cast.

However, another thing that was just plain awful about witch magick, was that this was only a helping hand. If you want something, you also have to take steps to see it come to fruition. Hence, spending more time with Kaoru, and he had to at least attempt to initiate something…

Fighting the urge to let his head hit the desk and groan, he continued to watch the candle burn, wondering how he could be so sure in business but so cluelessly nervous when it came to romance and feelings…

#ouran high school host club #ohshc #kyokao #kyoya ootori #kaoru hitachiin #witch!kyoya ootori #fae!kaoru hitachiin #are you sure this isn't the black magic club series

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calcinators-blog · 7 years

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FN-2187, TR-8R

I can’t tell you what it was like. And by it, I really do mean all of it.

“Indoctrination” was one hell of a thing. But then, well… back then, I didn’t know any different. It was all one way up until it wasn’t, until Dr. Thos pulled me out of my mental stasis and I could really think for myself. Do you understand what I mean?

I guess that’s maybe not for me to wonder in the first place; I know your mind has been yours the whole time. I know you choose this and you know I couldn’t. Insinuating it’s possible for you to place yourself where I’ve been is out of the question, not that you wouldn’t try to because I know you well enough, but I couldn’t explain even if I had all the time in the world to. And I don’t.

I’m still coming to terms with it. I know that we’ve already said goodbye. Maybe I’m only talking myself through because it’s too quiet and no one else has said anything to me in hours. Maybe because I still feel like I’m going to see you later and I’m practicing re-telling this story.

If you could hear me, right now, I don’t even know what would I say to you. Maybe that watching the hatch seal over your face was death enough for me. But that’s not the important stuff that I should have said. The one chance I had, I kept it back. Everything. All the nitty-gritty details, the stuff that a part of me would rather get vaped than admit to you. I wanted to come clean, really, but I just couldn’t burden you like that. I held my tongue then and I hold it now, inching closer to the great wipe.

Being reconditioned feels like a joke. But, I’m not laughing.

As I was saying, I broke out of it all, sure, then came pretending like I hadn’t, which was easier than you’d think since you can never really forget what it’s like. I mean, it was both a barrier and an alarm. It was an invisible wall blocking a spectrum of thought, protecting me from revelation and natural impulse. It was an inaudible siren, influencing my brain to duck and run or stand in line. To lay my life out for the cause and all that.

In time, you can imagine, that you’d grow to tolerate it. And I did. Fighting against it only makes headaches. Real bad ones. Ones that grind and pound at your brain like it’s the Resistance itself. I think it’s because our minds were conditioned not to do what they want to do.

Well, I’ll call them headaches, but in truth, they were more than that. The programming and programmers, the ones who do this to us, they are not our allies and they are not our friends.

The end feels all too similar to the beginning. I blame the hallways. The repetition of steel and stone. These worn down boots of mine are ticking like a detonator against the floors, slick with polish. I’m amazed I can walk without falling on my ass.

Hell, now I can’t see anything but Slip’s face. I’ve been in my share of accidents but he was by far the clumsiest trooper I’ve ever seen. I mean it lovingly when I say his dexterity was fictional… ‘Cuz he was also as sharp as a sarlacc’s tooth and that’s why they kept him around. Slip, walking to reconditioning and tripping on his way, would have been the greatest “fuck you” to the General over here. I’m sure it’s a mood killer. It’s gotta be.

Anyways, he’s at my left and a psytech I can’t recognize is at my right. So, there’s a black coat on one side and white at the other. It feels almost like a devil and angel on my shoulders but neither is interested in mercy.

I should also mention that Hux here, has been staring at the back of my head so intently I can feel his glare burning away at my scalp. On one hand, I want to ignore it but on the other, I can’t help but feel he’s annoyed that my hair is redder than. I must have established myself as the alpha. And I say that as if, wherever you are right now, you’ll stop what you’re doing and laugh– or at least roll your eyes in that way you do when I say something unbelievably corny. I know this look well from too many sour jokes.

I think suddenly to when you told me my hair was as red as poppies. I’m not sure why, but it’s always stuck with me. Maybe I liked the association to something organic and innocent, maybe I just liked how your face lit up when you told me. I think about how you had mentioned they would stain your palms because you would hold onto them, collect them. Keep them close.

I hope I haven’t left a mark.

Everything aside, I just wish you could hear me. You know, even still, as I march on knowing what’s coming, I don’t think I can take this moment seriously. I don’t think so, but it sneaks up on me. I’m fine in one step, a mess in another.

I contemplate decking the General, then running as he’s stunned. He’s confident that I won’t. I don’t have cuffs. But where would I go then?

It’s hard to stomach how close we were to— it. I guess the absolute worst thing that I could do is measure the distance between here and freedom. I’ll forget about freedom soon enough but damn, if I wasn’t right there.

It’s just ahead now. I’d be lying if I told myself that I didn’t feel scared, or worse, alone. It’s intimidating to know I’ll be fine on the other side or that I won’t remember this moment of not being fine.

I’m not okay right now. I’m the exact opposite. I’m shaking under these outer plates. I feel it breaking like sheets of ice, shifting and crackling along moving water. This armor, my second skin, won’t prevent what they plan on doing to me. Can’t.

I always imagined, in the end, you would show me your home world. I thought about what it would be like to see it with order restored because that’s why you were here. In some vague, ridiculous way, I’m thankful that it pushed you here. I’m not, for one second, pleased that your planet is suffering now but we met and that’s something I would never regret. The universe is too big to not host such happy coincidences and if my memory serves me right, you did say I was like your brother.

Yeah. Happy.

Starkiller isn’t going to get some ceremonious goodbye from me. No one did– not even my Captain. She handed me over; they must have not trusted that I could do it myself for sending her as a chaperone. She came to collect me before any of the others had woken up. We marched soundlessly from the barracks to the main bridge all to find the General waiting for me, sipping tea and reading something on his holopad. He gave me this look, like I was a dog on a leash or something, and told Captain that he was “sorry it came down to this.”

Sorry... Can you believe that? That he was sorry?

She didn’t.

We didn’t have to talk, you know. I mean, I respect the hell out of that woman– under the armor, I wouldn’t be surprised if her flesh was also chromed– but she was thrown through a loop. I don’t think I’ve ever been so quiet; maybe she was waiting for me to brush it all off my shoulders. She didn’t think I could bear the weight of it all without comedic relief to shake the tension loose. But I did.

They’re connecting me to the machines now.

They’ve kept to themselves how potentially dangerous this procedure is. They haven’t warned me that it’s excruciating, that I might wake up in the night with sweat-soaked sheets from nightmares of this life. Dr. Thos forewarned us. You know if it were simple, being reset, they would have done this to me the moment I started laughing more than I blasted things to bits. They don’t do this to wise-mouths; only turncoats… and I wouldn’t have made it as an FN without faking my undying devotion. I’ve never shown that my allegiance is outside this white skeleton.

They look at me, close-lipped. No one has explained to me why I’m here. The only disclaimer they’ve made is that this is what is going to happen. I’m lead to believe our secret is about to make itself known if they do not already know. But I don’t want to entertain that. Thinking about the others… They just can’t.

I’m suddenly terrified of what will happen to the rest. I can’t do anything, secured tightly to this chair, each limb pressed down to the surface. I can only blink and move my head. Neither action is sufficient, so I do nothing.

I put so much belief in the plan. I depended on inertia, and maybe to a fault, that it would just keep us all creeping forward undetected. I never thought I’d be halted. I’m trying to be okay with it. If the skifflin is out of the sack, I only hope it means that you’re right on the edge of figuring it out too.

Damn.

I just couldn’t risk it though. I couldn’t include you in it all when I knew how unsafe it was to house these thoughts. Sometimes I would rip myself out of sleep and have to fight not rocketing down the hall to tell you… It’s just that there is so much happening beneath.

Maybe I should have told you– I should have said something, right? I can’t say anything now. No. Nothing. Not in a metaphorical sense either. Stars, they’ve tied a strip of ashen, flimsy fabric over my mouth. It tastes like gauze and I can’t help but think of being stitched up in the medbay a few cycles back for being a little too reckless. I can’t help but think while I still can. I can’t help it at all. I’m not going to make a sound– untie it. Please, General. I can’t go through my final moments like this. And why do you have to look at me like that? Like I’m a wounded animal about to be put down. My limbs are transformed to claws and wings. Let me go. Let me go.

Am I awake for this procedure? There was no countdown. It’s happening. God. I can feel parts of me going numb and cold. It’s a submersion into ice water. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. I don’t want to forget your face. I’m thinking really hard about you. I’m not ready to give you up. They can try to steal you and everyone else from me but I refuse to let you go.

I feel something moving down the pathways of my memory. There’s no way to describe this feeling, only that I’m all too aware of something slithering about inside my head. Starkiller is absorbing my mind in preparation for total annihilation.

I won’t forget you. I won’t forget you when you had been watching the interstellar dust. We had everything then– the one last perfect moment.

General Hux has his hand on the controls. I can’t see much but I see him from the corner of my eye. The techs, in ghostly white robes around him, are supervising. He must think he’s deleting the problem; that it began and so dies with me.

I can only hope this buys you enough time.

Whatever happens after this, you’ll make it out. I know you will. You’ll go back to your planet and see the poppies. I don’t know where I came from but I trust you don’t mind if I go there too. It feels like it’s home enough for me. I hope you know my consciousness will be there, preserved and flowing through the stems of every single flower, bursting into petals you used to admire.

We’re all finally free there. Everyone. Please, you have to keep holding on.

You just have to.

I wonder if they can see it in my eyes, the brilliance of the view we had. I’m thinking about it hard enough that I’m surprised that my skin hasn’t become one with the darkness we hang in.

You’re here. With me. You’re next to me. I feel our last hug become our last once more. I feel you holding me together, but you’re fading to quickly to keep me in tact. But I’m not ready to let you go.

The fabric over my mouth slips; it falls down my chin and hangs at my neck like a noose. This vision of you, the last I’ll see of you and know who you are, but I whisper to you regardless:

"We will escape. We will all escape."

The man with red hair, whose name and face have left me, cannot control his rage. He slams his hand on a button and I’m shocked with so much invisible electricity that I–

#fn-2199 #nines #tr-8r #star wars fanfic #general hux

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