The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

The Legend of Rose the Bookish Hero

Jul
06

One.

“You will be my hero,” announced the goddess standing in the doorway.

(more…)

Count

May
06
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Success

May
06
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First / Most

May
06
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Head Count

May
06
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Smiles

May
06
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Minimal

May
06
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Blood

May
06
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Comfort

May
06
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Cold

May
06
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A Touch of Magic

Jul
10

They talk about their mother all the time, but sometimes Mary swears Dickon sprung up full-formed from the moor that might as well have given him birth. The animals swarm him with delighted sounds, gentle as though they were tame, and plants grow under his fingers as though his blood sings with magic.

(more…)

Do Not Die

Jul
06

Begging.

“He’s already dead, Dazai.”

“No. Please.

(more…)

Charges

Mar
12
This entry is part 4 of 4 in the series Whispers

She should be afraid of him and what he can do.

With a cocky grin, he charges his cards and brings down his enemies in flashes of light. With a casual word, he charges a room with tension of one kind or another. He charges relationships, conversations, tempers.

He charges her.

With his skillful fingers, he sets her glowing and sparks in her stomach, her arms, her sides. The air grows hot with what’s going to be.

They won’t get the gloves off. They’re going to burn.

She should be afraid of him and what he can do.

She isn’t.

Touches

Mar
12
This entry is part 3 of 4 in the series Whispers

They seemed innocent at first.

Touching her on the shoulder to get her attention. Brushing past her in a crowded room. Making contact while training in the Danger Room. (How could anything in that room be innocent?)

They progressed.

Tracing her contours before she even noticed his closeness. Brushing a kiss across her knuckles while whispering, “You’re belle.” Pulling back her hair into a ponytail for her before a training session. (How could anything in that room be innocent?)

She’d catch the brightening of crimson eyes and catch her breath in anticipation.

Touches turned to whispers. Whispers turned to touch.

Glances

Mar
12
This entry is part 2 of 4 in the series Whispers

It started with glances.

The first time Rogue saw Remy LeBeau, he was leaning on the banister staring at Kitty with a cocky smirk. His red eyes drank in the smaller girl, almost undressing her, but not quite so brazen.

Rogue had been uninterested, but Remy glanced at her and blinked in surprise before continuing his conversation.

Since then, whenever she walks into the same room with him, he glances over, then returns to what he was doing.

If he would stare, she could brush him off. If he would leer, she could ignore him. But he doesn’t.

He glances.

Whispers

Mar
12
This entry is part 1 of 4 in the series Whispers

There’s something different about the way he whispers. Something different in those urgent whispers as he draws his hand from the nape of her neck to the small of her back. Something different from the appreciative glances, lewd compliments, and in-your-face flirting he gives the other girls.

Something that makes her stop noticing when Bobby glances at Kitty. Stop staring at her boyfriend wistfully. Stop regretting the Cure.

Something that makes her blush every time that Remy looks at her. Something that lights a fire in her belly when he slides up behind her in some dark corner—and whispers.