The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

The Rock They Break Themselves Against (Interactive Fiction)

Oct
23

You reflect.

It’s what you do.

Noise you don’t want to hear, fists thrown, bullets fired—all of it bounces back and strikes your attacker with the slightest bit of your attention, or even less.

Continue

What Might Have Been

Sep
22

He might have been someone important, might have been loved by a mother, a father, embraced by family before he became the human body wrapped around the power of catastrophe and destruction. ____ didn’t feel anything about that, or about the seal between self and the world, or about the seal between that vessel and the world, where people moved in the distant light beyond this blue grey glass.

(more…)

Vigilant

Jul
02
To view this content, you must be a member of Liana Mir's Patreon at $1 or more
Already a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.

Actions Speak Louder

May
11

Gin proves herself strong. She’s quick, agile, and more driven by the need for vengeance and to no longer be helpless than by gratitude for Dazai’s choice to take them in.

It was the Port Mafia that killed their companions, and the Port Mafia that punished the killers and rewarded Gin and her brother. The Port Mafia values strength, values proficiency with knives and body and all goes well—until she hits puberty and her voice doesn’t change.

“Nobody listens to me,” she vents, frustrated, to Ryuunosuke as she washes blood from his shoulders where Dazai’s training has harmed him.

“Words mean nothing,” he says in a low rasp. “Actions are everything.”

Gin pauses, considers that, stops her brother from escaping, and finishes dressing his wounds.

She’s getting to be pretty and that’s a problem. She ties up her hair and forces it to be just the right amount of wild, the right amount of out her way. She covers her delicate features with a mask and stares keen-eyed into the mirror. She closes her mouth and makes her points with the tip of a knife instead.

They listen to her. She rises in the ranks. She takes command.

Count

May
06
To view this content, you must be a member of Liana Mir's Patreon at $0.01 or more
Already a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.

Welcome to the Mafia

May
02

“Mori’s asked me to look after you.” The woman folded her hands into her sleeves as she looked Chuuya over, assessing. “I’m Ozaki Kouyou,” she introduced herself.

Chuuya remembered Mori’s comments that someone was responsible for teaching and caring for new Port Mafia recruits, and it was only a relief he clearly didn’t consider that devil Dazai his recruiter. He stood up a little straighter for Kouyou. “Thank you, Ane-san.”

She paused, a hint of surprise on her face, but waved it aside for the moment and handed him a small box. “For you.”

He opened it curiously, then slowly slipped off the band marking him a member of the Sheep. He reached up and fastened the choker around his neck.

Kouyou smiled. “It suits you.”

Teller, Taker (Just the Facts, Ma’am Remix)

Mar
01
To view this content, you must be a member of Liana Mir's Patreon at $0.01 or more
Already a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.

Small

Feb
20

He felt small and very alone in the quiet woods around him. He wasn’t very big yet anyway, newly born from his power only a few years before, and while he grew, it was at the rate of all the gods—whatever that power sustained.

So even when he’d been walking alongside his older sister, her mouth curling in a bright smile, warm fingers curled around his hand, he’d been a child at her waist and unnamed yet. But there it hadn’t mattered that he was small and she was not because he knew that she wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

The woods rustled gently, creaking branches, wind-blown leaves and underbrush. His sister was the god of finding. If he just waited, she would find him.

He crawled under the brush around one of the trees with low-hanging branches and let it cover him while he waited.

Breaking Points

Jan
07

There were moments when all anyone could think about was the blood on their hands, their fallen team members—something not quite family but beyond mere friends—and their own willingness to go bloody themselves again.

(more…)

Thaw

Dec
26
To view this content, you must be a member of Liana Mir's Patreon at $0.01 or more
Already a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.

Learning Curve

Jul
12

Anyone who was going to be Chuuya’s partner was going to be competent at knives.

Dazai winced and blew on his newly bleeding fingers. Chuuya held out his hand. Dazai stepped forward to hand back the knife.

“You meant to do that,” he accused in an undertone.

“You asked for the knife,” Chuuya answered incredulously.

“Yes, hand it to me, not throw it!”

Dazai glared at Chuuya. Chuuya glared at Dazai. They were teenagers, but when they were together, they might as well have been little kids.

Chuuya suddenly grinned, sharply. “I’ll teach you.”

“I am competent.”

“You are bleeding.”

Drafted

Jun
05

Ide’a had never been a disappointment to his parents. He had a knack for business, was capable with the technology, software, and processes that kept his extended family firmly in control of the Flux’s mining economy, and knew how to manage business ‘partners’ with the appropriate balance of conciliation and hostility.

He’d never disappointed them until he took mandatory affinity testing and scored too valuable a potential pilot to avoid being drafted.

But when he arrived at his tiny bunk with his two permissible duffel bags, on equal footing with every other candidate, he exhaled his cage and inhaled relief.

Castles

May
14

The first time Cor saw sand, he ran across the beach with giggles and bare feet, not even noticing the stinging heat and grit. Zana watched with a smile and settled down to build castles.

He came back over, curiously, after her towers began to rise from the sand, looked with wide eyes, never touching. She was raising him at essentially a spaceport. He knew to keep his fingers away from delicate things.

But he was her little brother. She took his small hands and showed him how to shape and pat and firm the walls.

“Our castle,” she said.

Blade

Apr
15

You will be my blade.

The words echo in his mind sometimes, a soft-voiced memory, the imprint of a small hand against his hull.

Mihzat doesn’t remember it, but Veset does. Veset, blade, and he looks through log files that predate his integration, digs through memories that are his for all they aren’t.

That quiet voice, You will be my blade.

Is that what you want to call it, my queen? More familiar. Kasuru, the designer of the spaceship, who’d been at Mihzat’s integration when he became Veset.

Queen. Yes.

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.

Dangerous Work

Mar
20

Nanere first picked up the knives when she was a little girl. She rammed one into the knee of her mother’s love. When he howled and swung, she slashed his arm.

When he was finally gone, still cursing her, she gently washed her mother’s face and applied salve to her bruises, then fixed her mother’s makeup for her.

“He was our next meal,” her mother slurred.

Nanere thought of the shipyards and dangerous work available for tiny bodies that could fit into the small spaces between mechanical parts. She hardened her face and stiffened her shoulders. “I’m our next meal.”

Broken Things

Mar
18

His entire childhood had been a long line of broken things, things that guy had burned, things he’d torn apart and unraveled and left as gifts to his only child. Saruhiko had never had anything he cared about that had ever lasted whole.

Misaki was different. Misaki was his friend, and he’d left when that guy had come. He’d left and hadn’t been just another broken thing.

Saruhiko didn’t know why he thought it would last. He’d wanted to destroy the world with Yata, remake it, and somehow along the way, they’d taken fire to each other and broken everything.

Shadows

Mar
15

Saruhiko isn’t afraid of shadows when he walks through the city on missions he despises, climbing Jungle ranks like it comes easy. (It does come easy. He had a thorough training in malice and sadistic behavior before he ever encountered the clans.)

He has nothing to fear from the members of the Green Clan or the King he knows he will come to meet. He’d been afraid of the Red King once, all flame and power, but he’s not afraid of shadows, not anymore.

That guy had occupied the shadows, malicious, sadistic. He’s dead, and now it’s Saruhiko owning them.

A Series of Firsts

Feb
14

Zuko was the first boy to dump her in a lake. He was trying to be helpful, and she knew that. He was trying to put out the flaming apple on her head, and she knew that too. But for a firebender, he sure picked the most embarrassing, awkward, inefficient way to do it.

(more…)

Volunteer

Nov
27
To view this content, you must be a member of Liana Mir's Patreon at $0.01 or more
Already a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.