The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

About This Collection


Welcome to my inventory in progress of everything I ever wrote!

…so if you see discrepancies between what’s posted where, that’s why.

Sexual content, swearing, or extreme violence is all behind an 18+ age gate. If you let it remember you, you should only be asked once a year or whenever you refresh your cookies.

This is a work in progress! I have thousands of works in my backlog that have not been inventoried. Content is post-dated to when I wrote it, so there will many old works and new appearing on a regular basis, but not all of it will show up at the top of its category. I reserve the right to ignore this ideal and not always post-date if it’s too much work to determine original written date.

Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy!

Meant To (poem)


Meant to cook and meant to clean
Meant to rise and do the thing


Brotherly Love


“You know, brother,” Sunlight began one day out of the clear blue, while she was whipping up some sort of cream topping for the pie she was making.

Roh really had no idea, but being himself, he didn’t say so.

“I think I love you,” she informed him solemnly.

Roh blinked twice as Sunlight kept whipping—as though she hadn’t just said something outlandish and terrifying. “If you mean romantically, this partnership is over.”

“What?! Ew, no.” She wrinkled her nose. “I call you brother. I’m not kinking on pseudo incest here.”

He sighed relief. “Good. I hate you too.”

Spilt Like Wine


Red goes well with the Queen of Attolia. Her reign was founded on bloodshed, and she spills it like wine as she must to keep her nation and protect her people.

“Invoking the goddess again?” Eugenides’ smile is in his voice as he trails his gaze over the ruby red, the burgundy hues of her attire.

He doesn’t comment that sometimes her reign has stained them with blood. No one can tell with just their eyes.

She puts her hand on his arm above the hook, and they both still. They are both ruthless and vicious in the service of their nations, she thinks.

“And you your god, my king?” she queries, a brow raised.

He laughs, and she loves him for it, for rising to the occasion of her.

Then he bows over her hand with a kiss, drawing heat to her cheeks. “Shall we?”

Hers are not the only clothes which hide blood well.



Khun children were vicious and ruthless. They were a dangerous family and above all, not kind.

Then Maria sat down and asked Khun Aguero Agnis to help her become the princess of Jahad, and she was the kindest person that Khun had met. He’d been raised to be able to measure a person quickly, and he listened, measured, and at least considered the fact that he’d been raised to make his sister princess.

His sister was vicious and ruthless and dangerous—everything a Khun should be. Maria was different.

“Okay,” he said.

The Tower was just another competition, demanding the regulars be vicious and ruthless, willing to kill anyone that stood in their way. Khun had been born for this.

Then he met Bam—kind, stubborn, loyal Bam who didn’t want to hurt a fly and was willing to fight to the death for others, knowing he was too weak to win. He was good, and Khun measured him with a sort of shocked realization that Maria wasn’t as kind or good as Bam.

“Okay,” he said and set the crown on Bam’s head.

Bought with Blood


Khun Aguero Agnis is a name bought with blood.

His mother gives him, his sister, and Kiseia each their own knife and the opportunity to train. His first instructor says he has an affinity for the spear. His father’s spear. He turns it down and keeps his mother’s knife.

The first time they draw blood is on each other, and it was perhaps the most terrible idea his mother ever had. He bloodies his sisters and bleeds red to each of them.

You’re not a Khun until you survive the battle against your siblings and win, the battle that earns your own name. He bought his name with violence and a knife sharp in hand, blood between his teeth.

When he stabs his sister in the back, sends Maria to Jahad instead of his sister, they throw them out of the family. He keeps the name.

And the knife.

Lazy Days


“Let’s go train, turtles!” Rak announced to the occupants of Khun’s room, that is Bam and Khun.

Khun looked up from his lighthouse work (which he was doing from the comfort of his bed) and blinked. “No, today’s a lazy day.”

Rak scoffed.

Bam looked curious. “What do you mean?”

“Come here.” Khun made room and Bam curled up against him, then sighed softly as he relaxed his head against Khun’s shoulder.

Rak waxed eloquent on the merits of hard work. (Khun was quite familiar with those merits, having been obligated to train hard since his childhood every time another life and death contest loomed.)

Bam burrowed closer and tucked his face against Khun’s neck, clearly quite comfortable.

“Come on, Black Turtle. You and I will go train!”

Bam muttered something indecipherable. Khun smirked.

“What did he say?” Rak demanded.

“He sees the appeal.” Khun stayed on his lighthouse, enjoying Rak’s jaw agape, and plotted and schemed their next victory.

Where, O Where Could He Be?


Rhezerë is not pleased. There’s a niggling sensation, warm through his entire mind, of someone who’s supposed to be there, and nobody told him a new sync would feel like this.


To Do (poem)


Things that I’m supposed to do:
I drink a cup of tea

sunlight (poem)


catching sunlight
on my fingers (more…)

Blue and Gold


Golden moments strung together, sweet and glowing in the light of every good memory Khun had. (more…)

Between Two Beaches


The First Beach

Some people’s lives did not revolve around someone else. Khun, my love, Shibisu wanted to say but didn’t, life did not begin or end on that beach.


my heartbeat (poem)


an ageless question I ask myself
who am I if I’m without

no peace (poem)


There is no peace today
No empty winds in which to pray

illusion (poem)


for F and Y

There’s a moment, beautiful and new
Where I open my eyes and see you

The Dark and the Light


Where the light meets the dark, hands wound together like an unspoken promise, backs met and hands on their swords.


a kind of lightning (poem)


For K and B

there’s a kind of lightning in the tongue
fired up when hea’en and earth were young
a light that shines but only in a heart
a passion that can pierce the fiercest dark


let this be known (poem)


For K and B

fire and light within my soul
stand by your side, let this be known

the golden sea (poem)


For K and B

the golden sea within your eyes
an innocence devoid of lies

in quietness (poem)


in quietness I wait
and here I stay (more…)

tonight (poem)


I am quiet tonight
I say again (more…)