It's a Cold and It's a Broken Hallelujah...
Saw "Casino Royale" today....it is quite different from your run-of-the-mill Bond movie. Bond is very human rather than awesome-everythingItouchturnstoexplode!Man! But Daniel Craig is not as good of eye candy as Pierce Brosnan...he just doesn't have that suave aura around him. Although, I really like his portrayal nonetheless.
Now...onto the fic.
Christmas Requests #2 completed!
Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! Here is a treat to go with your turkey.
Disclaimer: Still don’t own Death Note or Ouran…Eros, in all his snarky glory, is mine, however.
Inventive warnings: This fic does not comply with the laws of physics, liberally tortures mythological beings, has Shakespearian style bawdy puns, much explainable OOCness, and has generally crazy syntax and words that will ostensibly help any burgeoning high school seniors build vocabulary for the SATs (feel free to blame the fictitious characters…the author takes no responsibility whatsoever). Do not use “Love Note” as a flotation device. Oh, and if you don’t know who Ayame is from the manga…you should learn…or go to the handy dandy author’s note in the bottom.
Also, there are random guest omakes at the end. <3
Note 3 - Pursuit…?
In the dead of winter Ouran Academy was fairly in bloom with fools in love.
At least, that was what Eros thought, drifting lazily over a French class. After the first week, tormenting the new - and quite harebrained owner of his Love Note (to give the issue a rare touch of politeness that perhaps the fellow didn’t entirely deserve) - life had gotten rather routine. Although he did have to admit that hearing the bloke squawk as he flew through people’s heads in his class or pantomimed poking his fingers into their ears was pretty amusing.
By far the best stunt he had pulled was flinging that pencil with the unfortunate looking bear at the strumpet’s stodgy friend with the glasses. After giving him a look of death, the dark-haired boy slid into a smile that Eros rather found he liked. He noted that it was a prank that might be amusing to repeat at other times, in fact.
…All this wasn’t nearly as amusing, however, as when Glasses Boy had stepped on his head after class for said pencil throwing. The Cupid Doily Derby had nothing on that kind of quality entertainment.
But that was not all…most of the boy’s instructors must think the blond quite daft (if they didn’t before…which was, in Eros’ mind, quite a dubious proposition) because he still often forgot that only he could hear the cupid’s voice.
…The time he had sung “Ah! Love in the Spring is Aptly Named for a Gentleman of Stature!” at the top of his lungs and the fluffy brained bloke has stood up and denounced his “bawdy and unsavory behavior” loudly in the middle of Ancient Literature had to be his favorite.
That was when he had learned that the boy’s father was not only the chairman of the school, but a peculiar fellow who also enjoyed torturing his son almost as much as he did.
Of course, Eros helped matters by floating a potted plant directly behind his father’s head for the entire interview.
He had apparently been punished by etiquette lessons to teach him not to “bray” so much. It was a wonder no one had turned him into a mental health facility thus far. But, he certainly proved that humans were entertaining creatures to be sure.
However, aside from the fact that Eros was fairly sure that the blockhead stuffed rose petals in his ears to ensure that his brain stayed securely inside his head at all times, he wasn’t doing at all bad where the Love Note was concerned.
Being such a rich haven made money not even a vague concern as a controlling factor in matters of romance. It also helped that the boy had bees in his bonnet at all times that cooked up incredible feats of imagination.
One person had swept up his beloved on an elephant’s back (“The exotic!” he had exclaimed incoherently), another had brought in…5,000 bouquets of roses (the first time in the school’s history, from what he heard, that classes had been canceled on account of “plant overpopulation”), and there had even been an instance of a combination between bungee-jumping and sky-writing….(“He needs to be a man of action to win the heart of his princess! The sedentary love wins not the day!”…whatever that meant.) thus far.
Eros had mentioned once that everyone’s having money certainly helped bring his fervent creations to life (he had taken this as a compliment as all sarcasm seemed to be utterly lost on him). The sparkly fool had merely responded, “Ah, but even still, love is the soothing balm of the impoverished Commoner’s soul! And it is a beatific tragedy- “ here he actually started crying, “ - that God has only accorded a few with the means by which all forms of passionate and divine love may be appreciated!”
Unfortunately…well, fortunately if you happened to be Eros…the plain looking girl who, by virtue of the fact that she participated in the obtuse and flamboyant boy’s strange gentleman’s club (Why they kept their clothes on, Eros still hadn’t figure out...that was not how people did it in the olden days…of course, perhaps it was a cultural quirk) had distinctly lesbian tendencies, also happened to hear the impromptu speech.
But even Eros couldn’t fully concentrate on the (almost) ritualized humiliation that the strumpet felt at the hands of Androgynous Girl because her ideal, er, lover was so utterly bizarre.
If the shiny fellow ever managed to guess it, then even Eros would have to respect him.
But whatever strange preferences she had, she had almost assuredly begun to notice something…not that the trollop who owned the Love Note realized this, but Androgynous Girl seemed to be the least of his problems. Glasses Boy - the only one in the entire establishment who Eros found more than pathetically amusing - seemed to catch on much faster than anyone else to what was going on.
Luckily the Cake Elf and the Identical Devils with strange kinks didn’t notice anything. The Silent Man…? Well, Eros found that it was rare to see him involved in anything.
And, my, was his ideal love a strange choice. Indeed, it was the first one he had ever heard that blinked in and out from a name to…articles of food.
Apparently, for the brief moment when he was watching him, he wanted Takoyaki more than anything else in the world….which was almost as bizarre as the girl whose true love was someone fictitious.
Dear Venus, this was a school filled with moneyed aliens with decidedly strange behavior. Eros decided that it was very good that they all had tremendous amounts of cash to spend on therapy before becoming the commercial forces of tomorrow.
In short, the world might not be so doomed. Eros decided, however, that he would rather be far away from the human world when these people took over the world. There was liable to be an explosion of roses or something when that happened…sometimes it appeared like all he needed was the heir to a big name doily manufacturer and it might be just like home.
And that thought frankly horrified him.
What he needed more entertainment. And, he needed it as soon as possible to take his mind off these serious matters.
And so, he decided he would find to find the poppet.
He looked back over at the silent boy - he looked like he had gone to sleep - before simply grinning. His ideal love flashed from a name to okonamiyaki…Rich bastards…Mighty Aphrodite, help me.
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On his way to the Host Club, Tamaki had been extravagantly waylaid by a yellow cloud of fawning female attention who bleated “Tamaki-sama!” at ridiculous intervals and sometimes even swooned…only to be dragged unceremoniously along by their similarly obsequious comrades.
Well, except for one that is. However, Tamaki, as a man who worshipped all female goddesses with abject and unfaltering loyal devotion, did not see any reason to complain about her.
Looking with a disdainful air at the crowd of unrestrained estrogen before her, she merely flipped back a stray strand of her slightly wavy hair, shifted the pile of books in her hands, and straightened her glasses out with refined efficacy.
As the first girl who had met Tamaki, the others looked up to her in some fashion, however, Jonouchi Ayame never say the sense in this value judgment - she hadn’t read anywhere that the order in which people meet had anything to do with group prestige.
And, she was such a girl that would not have believed that a cupid was hovering behind her (let alone one that was making ridiculous heart shapes inside the space of her head) unless three authors, all of scholarly prestige internationally, had firmly documented the existence of such a creature with photos and graphs.
Of course, she would also have relayed her disbelief. At great length. In a most detailed manner. In a voice the pounded away in such a suffocating monotone that the Hitachiin twins still made a display of spreading across the room and pantomiming elaborate morse code transmissions whenever she objected to something that Tamaki said…which was, in fact, quite often.
At some (what Ayame, at least, appraised to be insipid) comment, Tamaki remarked, “Ah, but you shall be like the open book of my desires, writing in golden calligraphy the testament of my heart and publishing it unto the gracious firmament of the world.”
Ayame coughed delicately, a sign that she was politely bringing attention to some flaw within his speech. Tamaki, oblivious to her efforts, continued, “But the divine creator should inscribe your name unto my heart with lines of prancing poesy and create in me a thousand golden idols to Venus, Aphrodite, Helena, Atlanta!”
She again moved to open her mouth to object to what she perceived to be various inaccuracies in his classical allusions but was once again thwarted by their arrival at the doors of the Third Music Room and the decay of the Host Club President’s purple prose into “Haruhi~! Your father has come at last!”
This display was then followed by a rather noisy struggle that involved the Scholarship Student, both Hitachiin twins, the idiot Tamaki, exactly four bananas, no less than five firecrackers in the shape of…squids (?), and for some reason, that eluded any logic that Ayame knew of, a lampshade (1).
But oh, the noise. The loud popping noises, the shouts of protest, the squealing of the various other females assembled…
And, above all, Ayame abhorred, detested, and quite frankly hated unnecessary noise in all its disparate forms.
Thus, annoyed at having been ignored initially and both irritated and perplexed by the ruckus that was continuing still on one side of the room, Ayame did something that she considered to be perfectly sound logically.
She changed her designation to someone who was quiet…almost silent.
Amid Tamaki’s squawks of betrayal (well, he was finally silenced by several pointed comments from Kyouya…if one means by “silence” the mumbling that accompanies an extended stay in the Corner of Woe) Ayame sipped her Darjeeling tea while sitting across from Morinozuka Takashi while sitting in blissfully complete silence.
And, to Eros, this arrangement seemed like a deliciously tempting scenario.
Now, if only the gears could be made to turn in the inordinately fluffy brain of the Love Note’s master…which was of course, usually the problem.
Luckily, the aforementioned blockhead’s stay within the aforementioned Corner of Woe presented a prodigious opportunity for…amusement.
So, he did what he decided to be the most effective. Flying through the air, he did a one-handed back spring off the blonde’s head and landed - with impeccable grace - in a flutter of rose-colored fabric and feathers in the cramped space between the idiot and the wall.
The boy’s shocked face was greeted only by the cupid’s sly grin.
“Mon cherie tart,” he drawled, taking pleasure in the fact that the human had now scooted back several feet in an entirely crab-like fashion, “Don’t you think something is rather interesting today regarding the…interpersonal relationships…within this club on this fine and cheerful day?”
Tamaki merely blinked back at him. Eros clucked his tongue before saying, “Oh ye ostentatious trollop…your love needs to be ‘scattered,’ as you say, throughout the world.”
He thought for the thousandth time that the art of sarcasm was indeed a lost art as the boy continued to blink back at him before finally being able to stutter, “O-o-ostentatious trollop?”
Of course he would focus on that. Perhaps “poppet” might suit him better…”strumpet” was becoming sadly worn and the other ones didn’t have quite the same resonance. And since the fellow had looked it up in the dictionary it wasn’t nearly as fun…
The cupid thought rather sourly that he had never heard anyone - immortals included - give such an “ode of vindication” (his words…Eros himself possessed decidedly better naming sense) for such an extended period of time.
He sighed and continued on.
“Now, I’m saying this - in a manner that even you can understand it - “ here Tamaki squeaked in momentary protest, “that the Love Note hasn’t been used to benefit, as you say, any of your personal - dare I say, intimate - acquaintances in a while…”
Something dawned in the boy’s eyes. What exactly, only a complete fool would venture to guess.
Suddenly he sprang up and, one arm on his hip and the other waving about to underline every nuance of his meaning, exclaimed, “Ah, the fair maiden who, only lately, tarried in the exquisitely divine sunshine of my gaze - a luminescence only to be eclipsed by the combined luster and brilliance of our glittering brilliance - until she has lately left me for another Lord of equal - except, perhaps, less graceful nobility - prominence in the affairs of my humble kingdom!”
Eros sniggered as, in the midst of the, er, speech, the girls sighed dramatically and with vacuous curiosity inquired in hushed voices, “What’s wrong with Tamaki-sama?” only to be herded away by the combined forced of Kyouya and the Hitachiin twins with an explanation of “It’s his usual disease, please ignore him for a moment…” and offers of the newest photo collections.
Eros thought absently that, if the boy had any disease, it was likely to be Turret’s Syndrome with a side of verbal foaming at the mouth. But rather than voicing this he merely did a lazy turn in the air, yawned, and prompted, “And why did your wilting maiden leave you?”
This seemed to jaunt him back into a blacker mood because he immediately froze in a position that looked suspiciously like George Washington crossing the Delaware and simply said, “huh?”
“Why, idiot. W-h-y?”
This boy was entirely something else. What exactly that was the cupid never wanted to contemplate at great length. Something dawned at him as he tried (and failed) to subtly observe Mori’s corner of the room. For a heavenly moment there was a quiet interrupted only by the clinking of tea cups as normality ostensibly continued somewhere else in the room. It was utterly destroyed when the boy suddenly began shouting, “Love! That empress of emotion, LOVE!”
And then he ran off.
Eros fluttered around and noticed that Androgynous Girl was sighing deeply and the Glasses Boy made a note in his notebook to reduce Tamaki’s sugar intake - by force if necessary - prior to club hours.
This, in Eros’ estimation, was going to be good.
------------------------------
Rushing with all possible speed, Tamaki extracted the backing of his portrait of the feminine Haruhi and pulled the leather bound notebook from its hiding place. Immediately he wrote down the requisite names and, as an afterthought, added “romantic wooing.”
Once he arrived in front of the door that led back to the room, he paused a moment to allow his cheeks to look pleasantly flushed and perched a hand at the proper position so that he could flip a stray lock of hair from his brow as he walked through with one deft and suave move. Opening the door he said smoothly, “Did you miss me, my princesses?”
But, much to his surprise, he was…ignored.
However, one glance over the heads of the staring crowd quickly explained this anomaly. In fact, a glance wasn’t at all necessary…Tamaki could, with no difficulty whatsoever, here the basso profundo of Mori’s voice saying:
“Dearest Lady of the Iris(2), hear me,
hear the supplication of the angels,
who cry for thee in most fantastic voice.
Ayame, lady dearest, I beseech
the beteeming winds of heaven not to
visit thy soft and chastened lips too rough,
oh, too dear, that this hand might thee offend -“
Here, Mori broke his iambic pentameter laden speech and bowed and held a rose out to her, who sat, uncharacteristically silent with maiden blush upon her cheeks.
“Never shall the sunlight set upon thee
that I, less radiant in thy presence,
shall not wish to gaze upon thy holy face
And see the picture of most divine grace.”(3)
A collective “Kyaaaaaah!” went up from the assembled and more than half immediately swooned.
Renge, observing said proudly, “Now this is the pinnacle of the evolution of the Host Club! I will have three more bowls of rice!”
The rest of the raging crowd of estrogen concurred and shouted out much higher numbers. Kyouya made a note to install video surveillance.
The rest of the Host Club was dumbstruck and Eros chortled before flying towards Tamaki.
Kyouya also made an additional note in his ledger and murmured, “ah, interesting” to no one in particular.
The only one that moved was Hunny, who wandered over to his cousin and found that the usually stoic boy was still posed and seemingly lost in the eyes of the girl across from him. Hunny tugged at his sleeve.
“Takashi, are you sleepy?”
Mori turned on him with eyes that…sparkled. Brilliantly sparkled. And Hunny, who this knew all that there was to know about Mori, merely stared at him, eyes widening.
This was not his normal drowsiness. It was no variety of sleep deprivation that he knew.
This was something that Hunny himself had never seen. And, seeing no other alternative, he clutched Usa-chan tightly to himself and ran, tears streaming from his eyes to Haruhi, sobbing, “Haru-chan! Haru-chan! Takashi’s sick! Love sick!” and remained cowering behind her as the spectacle continued.
This confirmation of the scene they were witnessing caused the customers to become all the more inflamed in the throes of passion.
“You know, you might catch bugs if you continue to gape like that at your handiwork.”
And, even as Eros commented on this, Tamaki’s mouth still hung open.
“You know, dearest poppet, that does happen sometimes…”
Tamaki turned to him in such a mechanical looking way that Eros half expected to hear his hinges squeak from the effort. He sighed.
“Obviously,” Eros said this so nonchalantly that it almost appeared to be a matter of no consequence whatsoever, “we have made a mistake.”
The human murmured something under his breath that sounded something like “…you flying duster.”
“Well,” Eros continued, “when you are completely mistaken as to a match up between two individuals…sometimes…that…can result. But, at least you won’t be needing any towels.(4)”
The last part of the cupid’s comments completely mystified Tamaki…but, he decided he would rather not know.
But, to the infinite sorrow of the vast majority of the female population of Ouran Academy - not to mention the vast relief of the collective members of the Host Club - there was no indication of the prose spouting Mori or the sudden declaration of love for Ayame the next day.
It was strange, to be sure.
------------------------------
Kyouya hung up his cell phone with a frown. His bid for Eraldo Coil had failed, it seemed.
But, this was no matter.
Seeing what he had seen today, he was fairly certain that he knew who was responsible for what was going on.
The matter of how was another proposition entirely.
And, if it weren’t for the fact that the club’s profits had skyrocketed in the past few weeks as rumors spread that coming to the Host Club was a lucky charm for finding your true love (rumors that Kyouya himself had taken it upon himself to use the means at his disposal to encourage), the idiot would be dead.
For a moment, as he tidied up one of the club’s many accounts, Kyouya wondered how Tamaki would respond to…an interrogation.
But then, however he was causing the current chaos might stop and thus be detrimental to profit. He would have to discover the truth behind the bizarre occurrences by more subtle means, it seemed.
However, if he ever found himself once again consumed by feelings of love for…Hunny…
The idiot would be far more than dead.
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Fin of Part 3
*Spoilers!* Ayame description - For those of you none manga readers, Ayame is a character in Volume 5, chapter 17 of the manga who is the second top student I her class before Tamaki comes…and then is incredibly envious of him when he continues to beat her academically. She hates Tamaki because she hates noise and such (and also has grades envy), but in the end it is revealed that she likes him…and despite her constant correcting of his…more excessive parts?...she now regularly designates him.
1. See, yatsuka…there are squid for you. Also, if anyone writes a drabble for this scene…I think I would love you forever.
2. Ayame means "Iris." It’s almost punny.
3. This is iambic pentameter ended with a rhyming couplet Shakespearian style (but really, really badly done….Shakespearian!Mori is the whole inspiration of this chapter, actually…and there are a lot of Hamlet echoes in here.
4. This is a reference to a small drabble inspired by wisecracks that I’ve reproduced as “Smut Note” in the shorts area after the A/N.
A/N: Well...more of the same crack. Expect more next chapter....if you wanna participate in the crack, lemmie know. I said everything I wanted to up there, pretty much.
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! <3
Now enjoy these shorts...
Smut Note
Tamaki glared in shock at the people below him who were, er, um, having a very intimate meeting following the confession.
Eros chuckled before nudging him with an elbow, "Bet that's a first for you...seems you got too close to an ideal match."
Tamaki opened his mouth...Eros thought that the prudish boy's soul might slide out.
Kyouya, however, merely looked on passively before taking out his cell phone and saying, "Yes, Tachibana, we'll need some towels up here."
And now for the first (small but awesome) guest spots by the lovely yatsuka (you need to bring your brain - well, your mythology knowledge - for the first part) -
The (Mis)Adventures of Eros, Part 1
~Yatsuka~
Eros scowled when his search for the Love Note turned up no results. It wasn't with that overly-dramatic high school kid. It wasn't in said teenager's desk. Or under his bed. Or anywhere else in the mansion. Trailing the boy didn't help either because Eros could find no signs of it at the school.
Which only meant...
"A-hem. Eros."
Dammit. He knew that voice.
"Looking for this?"
Eros hesitated for a second then turned around stiffly, trying to keep his limbs from shaking. Because Greek gods did not shake in their boots. Or whatever.
His wife was holding his Love Note in a hand with her arms crossed in front of her chest and a foot tapping against the floor.
Her expression could have given Medusa a run for her money had the Gorgon not been slain by Perseus thousands of years ago.
"I thought you said you'd be home by midnight," she continued, not even letting the god of love open his mouth.
"Psyche," Eros managed, finally getting his tongue to work. "You know what time of the year it is right now. You know that as Aphrodite's son, I have a quota to meet."
Psyche's eyes were twitching. "Mid. Night. You promised."
"B-but I haven't even worked through my fifth quiver of arrows yet!"
Eros froze to his spot when his wife directed a penetrating look at him. Shit, maybe he shouldn't have left her on Mount Olympus this time around. Ares probably taught her that glare just for kicks. Or maybe she was spending too much time around Eris? Athena might have liked war, but she didn't come across as the vindictive type.
"I brought Anteros with me. He's hovering outside as we speak."
Could Fate be any crueler? Eros mentally swore, vowing to bring retribution upon the god or goddess that gave his wife and brother directions to his current location.
"Your mother suggested that I do so."
The god of love brought his head down on a nearby desk. Hard.
Zeus probably hated him right now. That was the only explanation he could come up with.
"And he brought his Hate Note with him."
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk....
The (Mis)Adventures of Eros, Part 2
~Yatsuka~
"Antoinette, where are you?"
Eros paused in mid-flight, hovering in one of the many hallways situated in the Suoh #2 mansion, wondering if he should see why the human he had been trailing sounded so desperate.
"Antoineeeeeeette!"
Well, maybe it was something interesting. Tamaki-kun was constantly spouting nonsense every other minute and Eros was happy to note that he wasn't as bored as he thought he'd be.
The god of love decided to turn around and head toward the human's direction...
...only to be tackled from behind, his wings pinned uselessly to his back and his arms flailing against the floor.
Eros seriously hoped that it wasn't another one of Psyche's harmless reminders about his lack of presence at home. Because the last time she had dropped by, he had spent days nursing his wings. The luster and coating of his feathers had never been the same afterwards...
But that thought was quickly dispelled when the thing on his back began... barking?
"Where aaaaaaaare you?"
Eros nearly growled. That dog was not supposed to have been able to see him. And was it even possible for physical or living objects to touch him?...
Oh, gods. He stopped himself from smacking his forehead at the implications. Not that he could have done so with the huge beast on top of him.
The dog. Could see him. Him, Eros, son of Aphrodite and Ares, god of love and yadda yadda yadda, one who could not be seen without having touched the Love Note first!
And ewwww! Was that drool that just fell on his back?
Eros felt an uncharacteristic urge - no doubt something hereditary from his father's side - to murder someone. Specifically, the current owner of the dog.
Personally, Eros had hoped upon meeting Tamaki that the kid would find himself in his ideal love situation relatively soon (say, around a decade or so - Greek gods, after all, were immortal) after having dabbled with the Note. Either that, or he was going to have to take a quick trip back home and beg on wing and knee to one of the other immortals for a favor.
But now - for this moment, at least - he just wanted out of the situation. He wanted Tamaki to come up the stairs and find him at this moment and get the infernal creature off of his already damaged wings! As in sometime in the near future!
'Yes,' he thought as the ferocious beast known as Tamaki's golden retriever showed no signs of letting him go and her master was nowhere in sight. 'Really soon.'
Otherwise some foolish mortal was going to get hurt really bad...
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BTW, yatsuka…Have I told you lately that I love you?
Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed (again again!) and a thank you again to Ika! As per the usual, comments will be treated with extreme fangirling, random snippets from my imagination (that gets dangerous) and general gratitude! <3 <3 <3
Love for you all!
Now...onto the fic.
Christmas Requests #2 completed!
Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! Here is a treat to go with your turkey.
Disclaimer: Still don’t own Death Note or Ouran…Eros, in all his snarky glory, is mine, however.
Inventive warnings: This fic does not comply with the laws of physics, liberally tortures mythological beings, has Shakespearian style bawdy puns, much explainable OOCness, and has generally crazy syntax and words that will ostensibly help any burgeoning high school seniors build vocabulary for the SATs (feel free to blame the fictitious characters…the author takes no responsibility whatsoever). Do not use “Love Note” as a flotation device. Oh, and if you don’t know who Ayame is from the manga…you should learn…or go to the handy dandy author’s note in the bottom.
Also, there are random guest omakes at the end. <3
Note 3 - Pursuit…?
In the dead of winter Ouran Academy was fairly in bloom with fools in love.
At least, that was what Eros thought, drifting lazily over a French class. After the first week, tormenting the new - and quite harebrained owner of his Love Note (to give the issue a rare touch of politeness that perhaps the fellow didn’t entirely deserve) - life had gotten rather routine. Although he did have to admit that hearing the bloke squawk as he flew through people’s heads in his class or pantomimed poking his fingers into their ears was pretty amusing.
By far the best stunt he had pulled was flinging that pencil with the unfortunate looking bear at the strumpet’s stodgy friend with the glasses. After giving him a look of death, the dark-haired boy slid into a smile that Eros rather found he liked. He noted that it was a prank that might be amusing to repeat at other times, in fact.
…All this wasn’t nearly as amusing, however, as when Glasses Boy had stepped on his head after class for said pencil throwing. The Cupid Doily Derby had nothing on that kind of quality entertainment.
But that was not all…most of the boy’s instructors must think the blond quite daft (if they didn’t before…which was, in Eros’ mind, quite a dubious proposition) because he still often forgot that only he could hear the cupid’s voice.
…The time he had sung “Ah! Love in the Spring is Aptly Named for a Gentleman of Stature!” at the top of his lungs and the fluffy brained bloke has stood up and denounced his “bawdy and unsavory behavior” loudly in the middle of Ancient Literature had to be his favorite.
That was when he had learned that the boy’s father was not only the chairman of the school, but a peculiar fellow who also enjoyed torturing his son almost as much as he did.
Of course, Eros helped matters by floating a potted plant directly behind his father’s head for the entire interview.
He had apparently been punished by etiquette lessons to teach him not to “bray” so much. It was a wonder no one had turned him into a mental health facility thus far. But, he certainly proved that humans were entertaining creatures to be sure.
However, aside from the fact that Eros was fairly sure that the blockhead stuffed rose petals in his ears to ensure that his brain stayed securely inside his head at all times, he wasn’t doing at all bad where the Love Note was concerned.
Being such a rich haven made money not even a vague concern as a controlling factor in matters of romance. It also helped that the boy had bees in his bonnet at all times that cooked up incredible feats of imagination.
One person had swept up his beloved on an elephant’s back (“The exotic!” he had exclaimed incoherently), another had brought in…5,000 bouquets of roses (the first time in the school’s history, from what he heard, that classes had been canceled on account of “plant overpopulation”), and there had even been an instance of a combination between bungee-jumping and sky-writing….(“He needs to be a man of action to win the heart of his princess! The sedentary love wins not the day!”…whatever that meant.) thus far.
Eros had mentioned once that everyone’s having money certainly helped bring his fervent creations to life (he had taken this as a compliment as all sarcasm seemed to be utterly lost on him). The sparkly fool had merely responded, “Ah, but even still, love is the soothing balm of the impoverished Commoner’s soul! And it is a beatific tragedy- “ here he actually started crying, “ - that God has only accorded a few with the means by which all forms of passionate and divine love may be appreciated!”
Unfortunately…well, fortunately if you happened to be Eros…the plain looking girl who, by virtue of the fact that she participated in the obtuse and flamboyant boy’s strange gentleman’s club (Why they kept their clothes on, Eros still hadn’t figure out...that was not how people did it in the olden days…of course, perhaps it was a cultural quirk) had distinctly lesbian tendencies, also happened to hear the impromptu speech.
But even Eros couldn’t fully concentrate on the (almost) ritualized humiliation that the strumpet felt at the hands of Androgynous Girl because her ideal, er, lover was so utterly bizarre.
If the shiny fellow ever managed to guess it, then even Eros would have to respect him.
But whatever strange preferences she had, she had almost assuredly begun to notice something…not that the trollop who owned the Love Note realized this, but Androgynous Girl seemed to be the least of his problems. Glasses Boy - the only one in the entire establishment who Eros found more than pathetically amusing - seemed to catch on much faster than anyone else to what was going on.
Luckily the Cake Elf and the Identical Devils with strange kinks didn’t notice anything. The Silent Man…? Well, Eros found that it was rare to see him involved in anything.
And, my, was his ideal love a strange choice. Indeed, it was the first one he had ever heard that blinked in and out from a name to…articles of food.
Apparently, for the brief moment when he was watching him, he wanted Takoyaki more than anything else in the world….which was almost as bizarre as the girl whose true love was someone fictitious.
Dear Venus, this was a school filled with moneyed aliens with decidedly strange behavior. Eros decided that it was very good that they all had tremendous amounts of cash to spend on therapy before becoming the commercial forces of tomorrow.
In short, the world might not be so doomed. Eros decided, however, that he would rather be far away from the human world when these people took over the world. There was liable to be an explosion of roses or something when that happened…sometimes it appeared like all he needed was the heir to a big name doily manufacturer and it might be just like home.
And that thought frankly horrified him.
What he needed more entertainment. And, he needed it as soon as possible to take his mind off these serious matters.
And so, he decided he would find to find the poppet.
He looked back over at the silent boy - he looked like he had gone to sleep - before simply grinning. His ideal love flashed from a name to okonamiyaki…Rich bastards…Mighty Aphrodite, help me.
------------------------------
On his way to the Host Club, Tamaki had been extravagantly waylaid by a yellow cloud of fawning female attention who bleated “Tamaki-sama!” at ridiculous intervals and sometimes even swooned…only to be dragged unceremoniously along by their similarly obsequious comrades.
Well, except for one that is. However, Tamaki, as a man who worshipped all female goddesses with abject and unfaltering loyal devotion, did not see any reason to complain about her.
Looking with a disdainful air at the crowd of unrestrained estrogen before her, she merely flipped back a stray strand of her slightly wavy hair, shifted the pile of books in her hands, and straightened her glasses out with refined efficacy.
As the first girl who had met Tamaki, the others looked up to her in some fashion, however, Jonouchi Ayame never say the sense in this value judgment - she hadn’t read anywhere that the order in which people meet had anything to do with group prestige.
And, she was such a girl that would not have believed that a cupid was hovering behind her (let alone one that was making ridiculous heart shapes inside the space of her head) unless three authors, all of scholarly prestige internationally, had firmly documented the existence of such a creature with photos and graphs.
Of course, she would also have relayed her disbelief. At great length. In a most detailed manner. In a voice the pounded away in such a suffocating monotone that the Hitachiin twins still made a display of spreading across the room and pantomiming elaborate morse code transmissions whenever she objected to something that Tamaki said…which was, in fact, quite often.
At some (what Ayame, at least, appraised to be insipid) comment, Tamaki remarked, “Ah, but you shall be like the open book of my desires, writing in golden calligraphy the testament of my heart and publishing it unto the gracious firmament of the world.”
Ayame coughed delicately, a sign that she was politely bringing attention to some flaw within his speech. Tamaki, oblivious to her efforts, continued, “But the divine creator should inscribe your name unto my heart with lines of prancing poesy and create in me a thousand golden idols to Venus, Aphrodite, Helena, Atlanta!”
She again moved to open her mouth to object to what she perceived to be various inaccuracies in his classical allusions but was once again thwarted by their arrival at the doors of the Third Music Room and the decay of the Host Club President’s purple prose into “Haruhi~! Your father has come at last!”
This display was then followed by a rather noisy struggle that involved the Scholarship Student, both Hitachiin twins, the idiot Tamaki, exactly four bananas, no less than five firecrackers in the shape of…squids (?), and for some reason, that eluded any logic that Ayame knew of, a lampshade (1).
But oh, the noise. The loud popping noises, the shouts of protest, the squealing of the various other females assembled…
And, above all, Ayame abhorred, detested, and quite frankly hated unnecessary noise in all its disparate forms.
Thus, annoyed at having been ignored initially and both irritated and perplexed by the ruckus that was continuing still on one side of the room, Ayame did something that she considered to be perfectly sound logically.
She changed her designation to someone who was quiet…almost silent.
Amid Tamaki’s squawks of betrayal (well, he was finally silenced by several pointed comments from Kyouya…if one means by “silence” the mumbling that accompanies an extended stay in the Corner of Woe) Ayame sipped her Darjeeling tea while sitting across from Morinozuka Takashi while sitting in blissfully complete silence.
And, to Eros, this arrangement seemed like a deliciously tempting scenario.
Now, if only the gears could be made to turn in the inordinately fluffy brain of the Love Note’s master…which was of course, usually the problem.
Luckily, the aforementioned blockhead’s stay within the aforementioned Corner of Woe presented a prodigious opportunity for…amusement.
So, he did what he decided to be the most effective. Flying through the air, he did a one-handed back spring off the blonde’s head and landed - with impeccable grace - in a flutter of rose-colored fabric and feathers in the cramped space between the idiot and the wall.
The boy’s shocked face was greeted only by the cupid’s sly grin.
“Mon cherie tart,” he drawled, taking pleasure in the fact that the human had now scooted back several feet in an entirely crab-like fashion, “Don’t you think something is rather interesting today regarding the…interpersonal relationships…within this club on this fine and cheerful day?”
Tamaki merely blinked back at him. Eros clucked his tongue before saying, “Oh ye ostentatious trollop…your love needs to be ‘scattered,’ as you say, throughout the world.”
He thought for the thousandth time that the art of sarcasm was indeed a lost art as the boy continued to blink back at him before finally being able to stutter, “O-o-ostentatious trollop?”
Of course he would focus on that. Perhaps “poppet” might suit him better…”strumpet” was becoming sadly worn and the other ones didn’t have quite the same resonance. And since the fellow had looked it up in the dictionary it wasn’t nearly as fun…
The cupid thought rather sourly that he had never heard anyone - immortals included - give such an “ode of vindication” (his words…Eros himself possessed decidedly better naming sense) for such an extended period of time.
He sighed and continued on.
“Now, I’m saying this - in a manner that even you can understand it - “ here Tamaki squeaked in momentary protest, “that the Love Note hasn’t been used to benefit, as you say, any of your personal - dare I say, intimate - acquaintances in a while…”
Something dawned in the boy’s eyes. What exactly, only a complete fool would venture to guess.
Suddenly he sprang up and, one arm on his hip and the other waving about to underline every nuance of his meaning, exclaimed, “Ah, the fair maiden who, only lately, tarried in the exquisitely divine sunshine of my gaze - a luminescence only to be eclipsed by the combined luster and brilliance of our glittering brilliance - until she has lately left me for another Lord of equal - except, perhaps, less graceful nobility - prominence in the affairs of my humble kingdom!”
Eros sniggered as, in the midst of the, er, speech, the girls sighed dramatically and with vacuous curiosity inquired in hushed voices, “What’s wrong with Tamaki-sama?” only to be herded away by the combined forced of Kyouya and the Hitachiin twins with an explanation of “It’s his usual disease, please ignore him for a moment…” and offers of the newest photo collections.
Eros thought absently that, if the boy had any disease, it was likely to be Turret’s Syndrome with a side of verbal foaming at the mouth. But rather than voicing this he merely did a lazy turn in the air, yawned, and prompted, “And why did your wilting maiden leave you?”
This seemed to jaunt him back into a blacker mood because he immediately froze in a position that looked suspiciously like George Washington crossing the Delaware and simply said, “huh?”
“Why, idiot. W-h-y?”
This boy was entirely something else. What exactly that was the cupid never wanted to contemplate at great length. Something dawned at him as he tried (and failed) to subtly observe Mori’s corner of the room. For a heavenly moment there was a quiet interrupted only by the clinking of tea cups as normality ostensibly continued somewhere else in the room. It was utterly destroyed when the boy suddenly began shouting, “Love! That empress of emotion, LOVE!”
And then he ran off.
Eros fluttered around and noticed that Androgynous Girl was sighing deeply and the Glasses Boy made a note in his notebook to reduce Tamaki’s sugar intake - by force if necessary - prior to club hours.
This, in Eros’ estimation, was going to be good.
------------------------------
Rushing with all possible speed, Tamaki extracted the backing of his portrait of the feminine Haruhi and pulled the leather bound notebook from its hiding place. Immediately he wrote down the requisite names and, as an afterthought, added “romantic wooing.”
Once he arrived in front of the door that led back to the room, he paused a moment to allow his cheeks to look pleasantly flushed and perched a hand at the proper position so that he could flip a stray lock of hair from his brow as he walked through with one deft and suave move. Opening the door he said smoothly, “Did you miss me, my princesses?”
But, much to his surprise, he was…ignored.
However, one glance over the heads of the staring crowd quickly explained this anomaly. In fact, a glance wasn’t at all necessary…Tamaki could, with no difficulty whatsoever, here the basso profundo of Mori’s voice saying:
“Dearest Lady of the Iris(2), hear me,
hear the supplication of the angels,
who cry for thee in most fantastic voice.
Ayame, lady dearest, I beseech
the beteeming winds of heaven not to
visit thy soft and chastened lips too rough,
oh, too dear, that this hand might thee offend -“
Here, Mori broke his iambic pentameter laden speech and bowed and held a rose out to her, who sat, uncharacteristically silent with maiden blush upon her cheeks.
“Never shall the sunlight set upon thee
that I, less radiant in thy presence,
shall not wish to gaze upon thy holy face
And see the picture of most divine grace.”(3)
A collective “Kyaaaaaah!” went up from the assembled and more than half immediately swooned.
Renge, observing said proudly, “Now this is the pinnacle of the evolution of the Host Club! I will have three more bowls of rice!”
The rest of the raging crowd of estrogen concurred and shouted out much higher numbers. Kyouya made a note to install video surveillance.
The rest of the Host Club was dumbstruck and Eros chortled before flying towards Tamaki.
Kyouya also made an additional note in his ledger and murmured, “ah, interesting” to no one in particular.
The only one that moved was Hunny, who wandered over to his cousin and found that the usually stoic boy was still posed and seemingly lost in the eyes of the girl across from him. Hunny tugged at his sleeve.
“Takashi, are you sleepy?”
Mori turned on him with eyes that…sparkled. Brilliantly sparkled. And Hunny, who this knew all that there was to know about Mori, merely stared at him, eyes widening.
This was not his normal drowsiness. It was no variety of sleep deprivation that he knew.
This was something that Hunny himself had never seen. And, seeing no other alternative, he clutched Usa-chan tightly to himself and ran, tears streaming from his eyes to Haruhi, sobbing, “Haru-chan! Haru-chan! Takashi’s sick! Love sick!” and remained cowering behind her as the spectacle continued.
This confirmation of the scene they were witnessing caused the customers to become all the more inflamed in the throes of passion.
“You know, you might catch bugs if you continue to gape like that at your handiwork.”
And, even as Eros commented on this, Tamaki’s mouth still hung open.
“You know, dearest poppet, that does happen sometimes…”
Tamaki turned to him in such a mechanical looking way that Eros half expected to hear his hinges squeak from the effort. He sighed.
“Obviously,” Eros said this so nonchalantly that it almost appeared to be a matter of no consequence whatsoever, “we have made a mistake.”
The human murmured something under his breath that sounded something like “…you flying duster.”
“Well,” Eros continued, “when you are completely mistaken as to a match up between two individuals…sometimes…that…can result. But, at least you won’t be needing any towels.(4)”
The last part of the cupid’s comments completely mystified Tamaki…but, he decided he would rather not know.
But, to the infinite sorrow of the vast majority of the female population of Ouran Academy - not to mention the vast relief of the collective members of the Host Club - there was no indication of the prose spouting Mori or the sudden declaration of love for Ayame the next day.
It was strange, to be sure.
------------------------------
Kyouya hung up his cell phone with a frown. His bid for Eraldo Coil had failed, it seemed.
But, this was no matter.
Seeing what he had seen today, he was fairly certain that he knew who was responsible for what was going on.
The matter of how was another proposition entirely.
And, if it weren’t for the fact that the club’s profits had skyrocketed in the past few weeks as rumors spread that coming to the Host Club was a lucky charm for finding your true love (rumors that Kyouya himself had taken it upon himself to use the means at his disposal to encourage), the idiot would be dead.
For a moment, as he tidied up one of the club’s many accounts, Kyouya wondered how Tamaki would respond to…an interrogation.
But then, however he was causing the current chaos might stop and thus be detrimental to profit. He would have to discover the truth behind the bizarre occurrences by more subtle means, it seemed.
However, if he ever found himself once again consumed by feelings of love for…Hunny…
The idiot would be far more than dead.
------------------------------
Fin of Part 3
*Spoilers!* Ayame description - For those of you none manga readers, Ayame is a character in Volume 5, chapter 17 of the manga who is the second top student I her class before Tamaki comes…and then is incredibly envious of him when he continues to beat her academically. She hates Tamaki because she hates noise and such (and also has grades envy), but in the end it is revealed that she likes him…and despite her constant correcting of his…more excessive parts?...she now regularly designates him.
1. See, yatsuka…there are squid for you. Also, if anyone writes a drabble for this scene…I think I would love you forever.
2. Ayame means "Iris." It’s almost punny.
3. This is iambic pentameter ended with a rhyming couplet Shakespearian style (but really, really badly done….Shakespearian!Mori is the whole inspiration of this chapter, actually…and there are a lot of Hamlet echoes in here.
4. This is a reference to a small drabble inspired by wisecracks that I’ve reproduced as “Smut Note” in the shorts area after the A/N.
A/N: Well...more of the same crack. Expect more next chapter....if you wanna participate in the crack, lemmie know. I said everything I wanted to up there, pretty much.
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! <3
Now enjoy these shorts...
Smut Note
Tamaki glared in shock at the people below him who were, er, um, having a very intimate meeting following the confession.
Eros chuckled before nudging him with an elbow, "Bet that's a first for you...seems you got too close to an ideal match."
Tamaki opened his mouth...Eros thought that the prudish boy's soul might slide out.
Kyouya, however, merely looked on passively before taking out his cell phone and saying, "Yes, Tachibana, we'll need some towels up here."
And now for the first (small but awesome) guest spots by the lovely yatsuka (you need to bring your brain - well, your mythology knowledge - for the first part) -
The (Mis)Adventures of Eros, Part 1
~Yatsuka~
Eros scowled when his search for the Love Note turned up no results. It wasn't with that overly-dramatic high school kid. It wasn't in said teenager's desk. Or under his bed. Or anywhere else in the mansion. Trailing the boy didn't help either because Eros could find no signs of it at the school.
Which only meant...
"A-hem. Eros."
Dammit. He knew that voice.
"Looking for this?"
Eros hesitated for a second then turned around stiffly, trying to keep his limbs from shaking. Because Greek gods did not shake in their boots. Or whatever.
His wife was holding his Love Note in a hand with her arms crossed in front of her chest and a foot tapping against the floor.
Her expression could have given Medusa a run for her money had the Gorgon not been slain by Perseus thousands of years ago.
"I thought you said you'd be home by midnight," she continued, not even letting the god of love open his mouth.
"Psyche," Eros managed, finally getting his tongue to work. "You know what time of the year it is right now. You know that as Aphrodite's son, I have a quota to meet."
Psyche's eyes were twitching. "Mid. Night. You promised."
"B-but I haven't even worked through my fifth quiver of arrows yet!"
Eros froze to his spot when his wife directed a penetrating look at him. Shit, maybe he shouldn't have left her on Mount Olympus this time around. Ares probably taught her that glare just for kicks. Or maybe she was spending too much time around Eris? Athena might have liked war, but she didn't come across as the vindictive type.
"I brought Anteros with me. He's hovering outside as we speak."
Could Fate be any crueler? Eros mentally swore, vowing to bring retribution upon the god or goddess that gave his wife and brother directions to his current location.
"Your mother suggested that I do so."
The god of love brought his head down on a nearby desk. Hard.
Zeus probably hated him right now. That was the only explanation he could come up with.
"And he brought his Hate Note with him."
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk....
The (Mis)Adventures of Eros, Part 2
~Yatsuka~
"Antoinette, where are you?"
Eros paused in mid-flight, hovering in one of the many hallways situated in the Suoh #2 mansion, wondering if he should see why the human he had been trailing sounded so desperate.
"Antoineeeeeeette!"
Well, maybe it was something interesting. Tamaki-kun was constantly spouting nonsense every other minute and Eros was happy to note that he wasn't as bored as he thought he'd be.
The god of love decided to turn around and head toward the human's direction...
...only to be tackled from behind, his wings pinned uselessly to his back and his arms flailing against the floor.
Eros seriously hoped that it wasn't another one of Psyche's harmless reminders about his lack of presence at home. Because the last time she had dropped by, he had spent days nursing his wings. The luster and coating of his feathers had never been the same afterwards...
But that thought was quickly dispelled when the thing on his back began... barking?
"Where aaaaaaaare you?"
Eros nearly growled. That dog was not supposed to have been able to see him. And was it even possible for physical or living objects to touch him?...
Oh, gods. He stopped himself from smacking his forehead at the implications. Not that he could have done so with the huge beast on top of him.
The dog. Could see him. Him, Eros, son of Aphrodite and Ares, god of love and yadda yadda yadda, one who could not be seen without having touched the Love Note first!
And ewwww! Was that drool that just fell on his back?
Eros felt an uncharacteristic urge - no doubt something hereditary from his father's side - to murder someone. Specifically, the current owner of the dog.
Personally, Eros had hoped upon meeting Tamaki that the kid would find himself in his ideal love situation relatively soon (say, around a decade or so - Greek gods, after all, were immortal) after having dabbled with the Note. Either that, or he was going to have to take a quick trip back home and beg on wing and knee to one of the other immortals for a favor.
But now - for this moment, at least - he just wanted out of the situation. He wanted Tamaki to come up the stairs and find him at this moment and get the infernal creature off of his already damaged wings! As in sometime in the near future!
'Yes,' he thought as the ferocious beast known as Tamaki's golden retriever showed no signs of letting him go and her master was nowhere in sight. 'Really soon.'
Otherwise some foolish mortal was going to get hurt really bad...
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BTW, yatsuka…Have I told you lately that I love you?
Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed (again again!) and a thank you again to Ika! As per the usual, comments will be treated with extreme fangirling, random snippets from my imagination (that gets dangerous) and general gratitude! <3 <3 <3
Love for you all!