This is Splintered Rainbows!
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I've changed my username, because, just because. :D
Oh well. GYAH WHAT HAVE I DONE? THIS-I WAS SUPPOSED TO WRITE LENXMIKU!
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And TEI? TEI SUKONE?
... I let a few friends beta it... and their reactions were almost the same : WTH O.o?
Athazagoraphobia is a word for a fear of being ignored or forgotten.
At first, I wanted to use some random word generator... Ah... haha. That's just how random your little authoress is...
This was inspired by some TeiXLen fanfic, which I read like, a month ago? And then... well, you know how that awkward moment when you just stare blankly at the computer and your fingers are frozen in place... That was what really happened to me, until I got inspiration one and a half weeks ago...? Plus minus, in fact.
Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid or Tei! :D
Len Kagamine, the words flow smoothly over and over my tongue. Chapped slightly, yet a little sweet tasting. Cake; succulent, juicy honey that ripples over your lips as you smack them in satisfaction. They are puffy, soft and just so delectable. Golden streaks of whipped cream that decorate the exterior of the dessert. A banana, chopped and sliced into pieces lies on the cake, oh so deadly. They are sparkling, in delight. I drink it all in. Sin, your eyes and lust.
Pandora's box, I have opened and peered. The cackles of the curse forever swirl about in my head, gathering up all those rationale thoughts that peek out shyly from their cracks. It is the upcoming slaughter of waves that pile over each other, intensifying the enchantment. The chant drops to the ground from their rotting lips, yet in time- just a foot from baring its black, hideous soul for the world to see- before it resurrects, swooping up, eyes deadly like eagles. The hunter, will now cower in fear, the teetering coldness that teasingly slides its pale fingers up and down her chest. And the hunted, her eyes shall forever bear the spell of maroon-lust, her lips already decomposing as they part open slightly to examine the master piece.
The ghouls that haunt inside of my mind sings with great pleasure at my already-sadistic thoughts. The foundation has been built, steady and firm. Continue? With much joy. They wag their pudgy, saggy fingers, a stream of well-rehearsed lines that buzzes from those fading throats. The curse has been set; now they can finally retreat and watch how the younger generation carries out their desires, hilariously being puppets who can never escape their fate.
I, unlike the others, revel in mine. The thick, foggy mist that blinds all other ways, it shows only how I can live on. Agony threatens me, mercilessly etching scars into my putrid flesh. It stings and shrivels. Rancid, ghastly. It is the devil's mark on me. And even as I glance nonchalantly at you, I see what pumps my blood; it squeezes my brittle body with a white-knuckled grip, and for that, the pulsing red organ which fascinates me so much jumps.
Ah, where was I? Do forgive my horribly baked cakes. It does take quite some time for me to actually concentrate. I'll do better next time, though. Still, your face keeps popping into my mind, for some sort of spot-check. Rest assured, I love you, still.
Honey that lightly drips from your mouth. I resist the temptation to lick it all up but it is torture to watch you do so. It burns me, engulfs me in a deep sea of lust. Want, want, want. Words that sear across my mind like a meteorite, they leave a flaming pain behind them. It is deathly, leaping and licking at all my rationale. The lace of everlasting eternity, so near and oh yet so far. I, regret. My trembling fingers run past the sprinkled chocolate bits, carelessly flicking them apart to form your name.
Ah, that melody that jogs past the pool of love, longing and lust. So breath-taking, it captivates me and leaves me in nothing but awe. Sugar, I add into your cake, gingerly. You are a perfectionist. I must never make a mistake. One is deadly enough to put a thousand miles in between us. I cannot allow that to happen. Never, never, never. And enough of it! I must continue with my patchwork.
Your smile, even if it is only an uplifted corner of your lips, is enough. They are blood-red, almost like strawberries. Enticing. Lovely little one, here comes your poison. It is endearing to see you fret over the size of the cake, your eyebrows kissing together, that flawless complexion that peeks out from beneath all those covered clothes. Yellow, I note once more. Golden locks that block my view of your electrifying blue eyes. They pierce me with an addictive hurt. It first starts as discomfort, sizing me up as my heart repeatedly jolts in shock, the adrenaline- sneaky thieves- worm their way about, trying to break down my ribcage. They bang against every bone they can find. The lungs contract painfully, squeezing as I try to look smaller. It, haunts me after every time you look away. The disbelief of having that contact for only a moment.
I need your attention.
The casual, side-glances as you peek shyly, is enough to fill me up. The warmth will never cease to stop burning, like an inferno. It gnaws at my mind, biting, scratching. See? That is how much I want, love, need you. Every accidental caress, it is enough to sustain me, yet it also only increases the need, longing for your cool touch that soothes my heated soul.
"I'm sorry!" you exclaim as one of your hands brush past mine.
I shake it off; why should you be sorry? It was not a mistake; you love me just as much as I do, don't you? In fact, you were never a mistake. I eat up that lovely flush that cups your cheeks, the syrup dancing around my teeth and tongue. Arching into the feeling, I grin wider. You never cease to leave me in wonder, excitement and more of that blistering, scorching need.
Also, it is pure delight for me to drown in that melodious, singing voice. Your adoring pitch, that astounding tone that catches me off guard. Sinking deeper into reverie, gazing with utter joy and admiration at the words that float and giggle around me, I am lost. Your songs are like abysses, as I fall, fall, fall into them, sinking my teeth into those mind-blowing tunes. They run a loop, and I sigh with much happiness at them.
Your casual flick of the wrist, a caress of the face; the actions deeply root themselves into my being, clutching desperately. I want to remember everything about you, and digest it slowly.
Oh, snow-white...
"Len~" they sing, chorusing, probably trying to get your attention.
I scoff. You are my property, forever bound to me as we wrap each other in kisses. Them? Fat hope. Our bodies would lay together, linked like two matching puzzle pieces and once you get the courage to announce our relationship- those blooming flowers will be plucked from the roots, petals slowly ripped off, as they turn a muddy brown. They will finally be able to face up to the reflections, their full-of-flaw bodies tormented over and over again with wrinkles, their skin drooping.
And their sins will dot those leathery hides. Finally, we would strut , scratch that, we would glide carefully over the red carpet rolled out, and their white bones, polished like crystals lining the fabric. Our luminous complexions will bring them shame, leaving their flabby bodies crawling away.
And yet, one more of those animals proves to be trouble. Coyly twirling a teal strand of hair around her finger, she blushes fakely, plastering one of those cute smiles that never fail to bring the bile up my throat. And I note, in somewhat of agitation, that you were slightly mesmerised by that. Ah, I can see where you've been cheated.
Dear Len, I see you are seeking a substitution for me. Fear not of rejections, for you shall also gasp in pleasant (I assure you, rather enjoyably) surprise that I feel the same for you too.
But I am sure that one day you will realise my love for you and see her for the demon she truly is.
The days have slipped past like seconds and the mermaid is still holding your heart-temporary, of course. I have had enough of her insolent behaviour. It is time for her to face her punishment, for her execution. It must be done.
The blade pricks my finger and I pout. Hastily wiping it off, I smile at your enlarged poster.
See? I'll never allow the blood of any other vermin to stain me. When the time comes, you'll be mine and I'll only be faithful to you...
The knife was sharp and smooth, cutting across her pathetic chubby face. Her screams, escalating by decibels excite, thrill me. Her hands and arms tried, miserably failing, to block my attacks. That only caused more mutation to her limbs. Silly girl. Her teal locks were chopped off, stained with her filthy, dull maroon. That girl of such blood, worthless. Len, you surely must have been bewitched by her; if not, how would you miss the quality of bad blood running through her.
They have soaked into my shirt. It is the one you loved the most. Now, because of her, I will have to dump it. Well, no venture, no gain. Still, you'll love me for all I am and not my fashion, right, Len? Of course. Beauty is much more than on the appearance. One less obstruction, and it will ( I hope), bring you closer to the light, to finally be able to muster up courage to confess.
You mourn in dear sorrow. Is it because, I had to stain my hands with unworthy blood? But so, why are you staring at her?
Why, why, why? LOOK AT ME! I'M HERE!
I cannot wait any further. The process is delayed too much by those chattering monkeys. They are an eyesore. Soon, soon, soon. I will no longer be placated or patronised by that word. Now- at once- immediately. The curse lolls about in my lips, as it forms a chant that I hold dearly to. It is a mantra that can only keep me sane at this point in time. I want to taste your dripping syrup, and I will be encouraged by those (your) fingers that hold me down, pressing hard against my scalp as you return the favour; I will no longer be the one having to mutter your name, instead it will gush out from your thin, pink lips in a hoarse whisper. I will be the one to fill you up with want.
I will be the one to rock you over and over with lust, longing and need. You will be mine, forever.
And the cacophony of screams, I want to hear. Your pleads and begs in a whimper. They will escalate into loud, noisy yells. My name will come out in tatters from that throat of yours. You will lose your mind totally, and I will fill you up with me. The unspoken decree after I am done with you. Our blood shall mingle forever and I will hungrily devour you. Metallic, sweet blood that runs within my system. Perhaps much more tasty than those syrups that I pour over your dried, cracked lips.
Your dripping, red blood runs over my fingers as I examine them cheerfully. Your eyes are tightly-shut, as you resemble Zeus, divine and holy. The blade pierces deeper into your throat, yet you are stiff, motionless. The cool, firm skin brushes past mine. No apologies are spoken now; it seems you finally admit of your love to me. Good. I sink my teeth into your lips, biting relentlessly. They are bleeding, yet no whimpers escape from your throat. The gumdrops splatter onto the pillows, making a lovely patting sound.
Your fringe is stained with strawberry, no longer glowing a bright blonde. I frown, but strawberries looked good on you. Sweet, just as you were. A finger traces your nose to your cheeks. It is perfect, only blotted once or twice with that essence. No longer was there any sudden sizzling of that embarrassing blush under your feathery skin. It seems like you have really acknowledged me as your lover. But the fingers are still too cold. I kiss your nose in affection.
I giggle as you lie there awkwardly, as if in a deep trance. How much I love you. The tip of the blade slides down and up your throat and it nuzzles closer to that porcelain skin. How easily defeated and cracked. Your eyelashes are long, mesmerising. I wait patiently for you to utter those three words, your dazed-with-euphoria orbs blinking intensely at me. Yet logic once again returns to me and I chuckle at my silly thoughts. Lazily, I trail your hair, mussed and ruffled. Perhaps it was okay, now, to let our guards down? Taking a whiff of a strand, I lick it. Just as I expected; metallic and pleasant. Scarlet, deepening into a maroon, smudged across your face, arms and chest. I sigh, my tongue lapping up all the remains.
Well, even dead, you were still perfect. Except for those scars that marred your chest, and throat.
SR: Yay. :D...
That sounded so darn morbid.
Splintered Rainbows...
P.S. Actually, I wanted to change my username to 'Bubbly Goldfishes'. No kidding. ^^;;