InsaneJournal

           The liquor burns down my throat and coils somewhere below my lungs, like a hidden snake waiting to strike. The snake I once was. Will always be.

            Golden light dances through the wineglass, through flickering liquid, and splatters on the photograph flat on a cypress desk. Slivers of James Potter, Lily Evans, and the boy between them coming and going from one second to the next. Uncertain life. Hypnotizing.

            Warmth unfurls within the pit of my stomach, radiating outwards to fill every limb and pore. There’s a sense of power in knowing the past.

Moving onto Rurouni Kenshin, specifically the Battousai during the Bakumatsu:

            A black envelope lands on the desk, its single red insignia a glare in the dark, warning of the blood to be spilled tonight.

            I reach for the envelope, nimble fingers stiffening as they pull out the sheet, unfolding it. The name scrawled across the blank paper is one unknown to me, another jumble of letters to be pieced together on the Day of Judgment. Tonight, I act as executioner.

            My fingers close around my katana, finding their well-worn groove, and the next moment, I’ve melted silently out the window.

            My soul slips further into shadows with each step forward.

Lastly, my newfound pairing (Kunzite/Zoisite) from Sailor Moon (I'm not embarassed to admit it):

            They call you the Ice King, but I don’t think that’s true. You’re not a smooth, neatly-structured ice cube. You’re much more like the intangible rain, the reluctant drizzle, falling carefully and landing uncertainly. And you disappear immediately afterward, as though afraid of human contact. Touch and go.

            It’s not enough for me. With every drop, every reassurance, I yearn for more. My thirst for you expands each day. But I have learned to wait, in my way, so I do not goad you too much. For now at least.

            Someday, I will teach you the meaning of a rainstorm.