The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Long Distance Family

Apr
10

Zana ran Ijeve’s training facility, almost never leaving it, and had since she was a teenage girl, well trained but saddled with a little brother she wouldn’t leave. Her little brother wasn’t little anymore, but a warship who only came home on leave.

But how the messages flew between them!

She knew his triumphs and struggles before the battle reports rolled in, and every infuriating thing she didn’t need to know about his pilot. He knew about her frustrations with each new batch of trainees and which ones she had high hopes for. But they never said, I miss you.

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Don’t Want to Know

Apr
08

Cor wasn’t a virgin when he was integrated, (more…)

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all of your flaws are aligned with this mood of mine

Apr
08

Dazai—looking soft and curious, all his ruthless edges tucked away somewhere under that faint wondering expression he got when staring at friends who puzzled him, when staring death in the face, when staring at his partner doing something utterly inexplicable but somehow not annoying or disgusting.

This was Dazai and Chuuya didn’t care if it was weird or they had jerked their heads away from each other just moments ago in distaste for manners, habits, and their endless stream of insults. This was Dazai and he wasn’t fighting back (like he ever did) or pulling back (like he ever did) or pulling one of his stupid blocks or evasive maneuvers. He was letting Chuuya shove him against the wall, letting him bury one gloved hand in the soft messy hair, letting him pull Dazai’s head down to his own level so their mouths were at the same height, and letting himself be kissed by someone he’d never particularly cared for.

(more…)

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Proof I Can Feel

Apr
03

“You know I’m not that kind of doctor,” Bruce points out in his usual mellow tone.

Natasha pops up on the bed anyway and tilts her head playfully. “Am I that bad a patient?” She leans forward ever so slightly, flirtatious cant of her lips, lets him chew on that as he decides whether or not she actually means it.

(more…)

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Better than a King

Mar
31

There were a lot of people that said only kings could truly understand each other. Mikoto wondered if those people had ever met Totsuka Tatara.

He’d find himself staring at his own hands, feeling the weight of violence and power burning inside him, and then Tatara would appear with his soft, gentle smiles and his eyes that saw right through everything Mikoto never found it in him to say, finding the words Mikoto couldn’t, that made everything make sense.

Mikoto stared at Tatara in wonder sometimes, an almost incomprehensible person who understood Mikoto better than anyone else, even another king.

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In Your Corner

Mar
27

Yata hesitated at the door.

Saruhiko looked pale and tired, passed out unconscious on a hospital bed, a blue-coated stranger in the corner of the room, and Yata just wanted the stranger gone, but even he knew, they were the person Saruhiko expected to be here and Yata wasn’t.

No matter.

He firmed up his resolve and strode into the room toward the most comfortable looking chair, ignoring the Blue’s startled expression. Yata yanked the chair over to Saruhiko’s bedside and sat down.

“Idiot.” He scowled at his friend.

But he stayed there and stayed there until Saruhiko woke up.

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The First Time Through

Mar
27

“I’m not going to talk like a fucking girl!” Chuuya practically growled at his annoying partner.

“Bet you will!” Dazai singsonged back. “If I win this game, you talk like a little rich girl and ask nicely for what we need.”

“And if I win,” Chuuya countered, “I grind your into the pavement and then you torture it out of them.”

“But Chuuya! I’d need my face for that.”

“Fine, you torture it out of them, then I grind your face into the pavement.”

The two eyed each other.

“Deal.” Dazai grinned.

Chuuya checked his game console for foul play.

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Cherry Boy

Mar
26

Saruhiko would probably never get tired of Misaki turning red and flustered (more…)

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A Little Chat

Mar
25

Captain Mikral was rather pleased at how easily they’d slipped past their enemy’s border defense and how many parsecs into enemy space they’d gone. The target was fast approaching.

He should have saved his pleasure.

He barely saw the flash of blue in the ship’s viewer before he saw the hooked blades unsheathing from the tips of its wings, before the entire crew felt them puncture the hull as their velocity ground to zero.

Mikral swore.

The communications panel lit, then a woman appeared on-screen and her warm voice came through the intercom. “Let’s have a little chat.” She grinned.

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A Miscalculation

Mar
24

Drunk Chuuya was handsy, Dazai was discovering. (more…)

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Ruffled Feathers

Mar
23

“They’re not erogenous,” Chuuya pointed out for the umpteenth time.

Dazai didn’t pause a moment in his intent, thorough examination of every feather and curve of Chuuya’s wings. It would have been too much to expect a compliment, but the attention was enough to bring a flush to Chuuya’s cheeks anyway.

“Have you ever tried to let go and fall?” Dazai asked thoughtfully, a dreamy tone in his voice.

“What?! No!” Chuuya yanked his wing away from Dazai’s groping fingers.

“Chuuya! Don’t be like that!” Clingy Dazai followed after. “Your wings are so nice!”

Chuuya groaned but let him touch.

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Against Better Judgement

Mar
23

“I’m not (more…)

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In the Throes

Mar
23

“Why aren’t poisons ever painless?” Dazai whined loudly, an unwelcome annoying background track.

“We both trashed the rival gang and their pet snake,” Chuuya told his awful excuse of a partner and slapped half the paperwork in front of Dazai. “We both write up the report.”

Dazai stared between the paper and Chuuya, eyes wide, then his hand went to his forehead and his head went back dramatically. “So cruel! I’m in the throes of poison here!”

“You won’t die,” Chuuya reminded him. “Write, you pathetic snake-seducer!”

“I was supposed to die!”

“Well, you didn’t.” Chuuya really wished he had.

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Avatars

Mar
23

“You’re the god of what again?” the current avatar of the god of death asked.

“None of your business,” the much shorter redhead replied.

They were just teenagers and probably had no business being avatars, but gods never bothered much asking the mortals that channeled them.

“But we’re partners now, Chuuya!” Dazai persisted. “Surely it’s something to do with Death!” Be careful who you want to meet, Dazai thought. He just might keep you around.

Chuuya recoiled. “Passion,” he replied bluntly.

“Passion.” Dazai blinked. “Passion?”

Chuuya’s body language was tense, but he refused to elaborate.

What he was refusing to tell his new ‘partner’ was that he wasn’t the avatar of the god of passion. He was the god of passion—full of all the pleasure and violence that generally entailed. He was the avatar of another power though because it didn’t seem to care whether it channeled its way through a mortal or a young god who just happened to be wandering the earth when the last avatar of calamity died.

“What exactly are you passionate about?” Dazai asked, wide-eyed. “I’m looking for a beautiful woman to—”

Chuuya shoved him into a tree. “Not that kind of passion.”

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Every Single Part

Mar
23

Misaki actually had terrible aim. Not that Saruhiko was complaining. (more…)

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Strange Feeling

Mar
23

Sleeping in the same room as Misaki was a strange feeling.

Saruhiko had always been alone, and now here was this other person breathing deeply in the same room, sprawled in trusting sleep like he’d never had to worry about who would come in at night or what they’d do.

The door quietly opened. Saruhiko feigned sleep, heart racing for a long moment.

Misaki’s mother glanced over them both.

“They’re fine,” her husband whispered loudly behind her.

“I know. I just like to check.” Then she was gone.

Saruhiko blinked in the darkness, breathed easier. It wasn’t a bad feeling.

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In Your Dreams

Mar
23

Yata would never in a million years admit he liked the uniform. No matter Saruhiko actually looked good in it, he looked good in anything, and Yata hated everything that reminded him of the Blues stealing his best friend away.

It was just because Saruhiko always wore one now that Yata saw it in his dreams. Only because it was Saruhiko, not the uniform, that most of his more private fantasies saw the buttons half undone, Saruhiko looking disheveled, but not actually undressed. Yata didn’t actually want to imagine Saruhiko naked.

Then it wasn’t a dream anymore.

“Leave it on.”

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Mismatched Expectations

Mar
21

Chuuya had been worried about the whole biological process of kemmer (more…)

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No, Without Appeal

Mar
20

“No.”

“But Chuuya! You haven’t even heard what—”

“No.”

“Chuuya!”

Dazai’s whine only got more indignant the more Chuuya refused to even listen to whatever his request was, complete with putting on his headphones and blasting rock music loud enough that he could practically see Dazai planning on teasing him for impending deafness later.

But Dazai was too terrifyingly chipper, and Dazai always had ulterior motives, and Chuuya was not in the mood.

Dazai lifted the headphones from Chuuya’s head and held them out of reach, one hand on Chuuya to stop his Ability. “I need you, Chuuya!”

“NO!”

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Meet Immovable Object

Mar
20

Shiro was enjoying the peace of Kuroh making dinner and good smells filling the air when a sudden thwack from a cooking utensil sent Neko howling and hissng across the room.

“You spanked the cat?” Shiro stared between an indignant Kuroh standing guard over his foodstuffs and an even more indignant cat, white fur all standing on end.

Neko apparently hadn’t been in human form all afternoon, preferring to sneak her paws into Kuroh’s cooking.

Kuroh stared back unrepentantly. “Dinner will be ready soon.” He made a shooing motion at both Shiro and Neko and turned back to the stove.

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