Post by Suoh Tamaki on Nov 11, 2009 3:42:11 GMT -5
(Title meaning - 'what's normal for a harem' <--*failure*)
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Today was one of the days where the King of Ouran's Host Club just paused and took a moment to observe his kingdom. Long, pale and elegant fingers encircled his chin as his bright, mystic eyes scanned every nook and cranny of the decorated Third Music Room - which he had diligently watched as it had undergone its transformation from simple music room to an entirely miniaturized version of his mother land, complete with the outdoor setting that many a road-side buffet embodied. Each table was draped in either a white or white-and-red checkered table cloth, crystal vase of flowers situated firmly in the middle of the round surface and a mini statue of the Eiffel Tower or Big Ben shining in the light cast by both the overhead candelabra and the flickering, battery-powered covered flames that were sprinkled throughout the room. It seemed, to Tamaki, that although corny and perhaps not as authentic as the streets he plodded through as a child (they all smelled of muck and wet, cold rain, or else decaying leaves - never perfumed cinnamon or lilac) that the scene was completed with the display of Ouran's own clock tower, vaguely reminiscent of the international phenomenon that people didn't even look at as a regular clock tower anymore, through the window; curtains thrown wide to let in every particle of the weak summer light that was left flickering through the slightly overcast sky. He sighed...
Tamaki, himself, in all his French glory, had selected one of the many outfits he had brought overseas with himself at a younger age, and although initially distraught at finding that his clothing from elementary school no longer fit him as nicely as he wished they would, he was all to eager to order new ones - not only for himself, either. And so now, in the closeted space of the Third Music Room that had once been a storage closet, there now hung a various selection of authentic French costumes, featuring everything from matching mime suits and make up to the large dresses that fanned out at the waist in a groutest box shape and called for three petti coats and a corset (he'd even seen to it that several specially made maid costumes ended up in the mix, hoping the appeal to either Haruhi or Beni's good side on a high enough level that they would wear them). The blond was currently wearing an flared open white shirt that much resembled a chef's top, except the material was thinner, and where there would be buttons, there were thin straps that ended in buckles far too large to NOT be noticed. Black pants clung to his thighs and fell loosely over his calves, shaping already perfectly sculpted legs for all to see, and a wildly eccentric tie was laced around his neck, not done up yet but looking drop dead sexy all the same.
It was true - perhaps the optical "illusion" of a canal running around the outer rim of the tiled room was a little much, and the elongated canal boat he had hijacked from last year's third year's final project (the one that had been showcased at the Ouran Fair, and that Tamaki had escorted Eclair around in) leaning against the wall was...a liiiiiiiittttttlllllleeeee much, but when it came to pleasing the customers of the Ouran Host Club, there was nothing that could stop him, and nothing that could top the mental images of Suoh Tamaki when brought to real life. And, plus, it wasn't like students at the fine private institute expected anything less from the group of boys they had come to love and adoreand stalk in the past couple years. If anything this was...
Feeling himself swelling with suppressed pride and excitement at the day that was to come as soon as his other members arrived and the specially ordered Damman Freres tea was brewed. Spreading his arms wide and facing the open window with an expression of utter idiotic bliss and freedom upon his features, Tamaki indulged himself in singing, "Et avec la subtilité des cris d'excitation, de cri de 'Je t'aime' sur les toits, et laisser les gens aller Unhearing subtile ci-dessous. Ceci est ma France~" And with the subtle cries of excitement, cry "I love you" from the roof tops, and let the subtle people below go unhearing. This is my France.
If anything...this was normal...
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[Can anyone tell that on-line translators are my friends? xp Anyway, someone bust in, yeah!?! -wrote the little thing Tama-DRAMA's proclaiming, but shamefully admits it-]
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Today was one of the days where the King of Ouran's Host Club just paused and took a moment to observe his kingdom. Long, pale and elegant fingers encircled his chin as his bright, mystic eyes scanned every nook and cranny of the decorated Third Music Room - which he had diligently watched as it had undergone its transformation from simple music room to an entirely miniaturized version of his mother land, complete with the outdoor setting that many a road-side buffet embodied. Each table was draped in either a white or white-and-red checkered table cloth, crystal vase of flowers situated firmly in the middle of the round surface and a mini statue of the Eiffel Tower or Big Ben shining in the light cast by both the overhead candelabra and the flickering, battery-powered covered flames that were sprinkled throughout the room. It seemed, to Tamaki, that although corny and perhaps not as authentic as the streets he plodded through as a child (they all smelled of muck and wet, cold rain, or else decaying leaves - never perfumed cinnamon or lilac) that the scene was completed with the display of Ouran's own clock tower, vaguely reminiscent of the international phenomenon that people didn't even look at as a regular clock tower anymore, through the window; curtains thrown wide to let in every particle of the weak summer light that was left flickering through the slightly overcast sky. He sighed...
Tamaki, himself, in all his French glory, had selected one of the many outfits he had brought overseas with himself at a younger age, and although initially distraught at finding that his clothing from elementary school no longer fit him as nicely as he wished they would, he was all to eager to order new ones - not only for himself, either. And so now, in the closeted space of the Third Music Room that had once been a storage closet, there now hung a various selection of authentic French costumes, featuring everything from matching mime suits and make up to the large dresses that fanned out at the waist in a groutest box shape and called for three petti coats and a corset (he'd even seen to it that several specially made maid costumes ended up in the mix, hoping the appeal to either Haruhi or Beni's good side on a high enough level that they would wear them). The blond was currently wearing an flared open white shirt that much resembled a chef's top, except the material was thinner, and where there would be buttons, there were thin straps that ended in buckles far too large to NOT be noticed. Black pants clung to his thighs and fell loosely over his calves, shaping already perfectly sculpted legs for all to see, and a wildly eccentric tie was laced around his neck, not done up yet but looking drop dead sexy all the same.
It was true - perhaps the optical "illusion" of a canal running around the outer rim of the tiled room was a little much, and the elongated canal boat he had hijacked from last year's third year's final project (the one that had been showcased at the Ouran Fair, and that Tamaki had escorted Eclair around in) leaning against the wall was...a liiiiiiiittttttlllllleeeee much, but when it came to pleasing the customers of the Ouran Host Club, there was nothing that could stop him, and nothing that could top the mental images of Suoh Tamaki when brought to real life. And, plus, it wasn't like students at the fine private institute expected anything less from the group of boys they had come to love and adore
Feeling himself swelling with suppressed pride and excitement at the day that was to come as soon as his other members arrived and the specially ordered Damman Freres tea was brewed. Spreading his arms wide and facing the open window with an expression of utter idiotic bliss and freedom upon his features, Tamaki indulged himself in singing, "Et avec la subtilité des cris d'excitation, de cri de 'Je t'aime' sur les toits, et laisser les gens aller Unhearing subtile ci-dessous. Ceci est ma France~" And with the subtle cries of excitement, cry "I love you" from the roof tops, and let the subtle people below go unhearing. This is my France.
If anything...this was normal...
-
[Can anyone tell that on-line translators are my friends? xp Anyway, someone bust in, yeah!?! -wrote the little thing Tama-DRAMA's proclaiming, but shamefully admits it-]
