The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Multi-Faceted

Apr
20

“You’re not exactly what I expected,” she stated.

Kusanagi looked up with interest from mixing her martini.

Awashima Seri had been coming to HOMRA more often, even regularly. They’d discussed mostly clan affairs. Despite the destruction of the Slates, Scepter 4 had plenty of work policing the strains created before its destruction, and Homura remained useful as an organization rooted in the city streets and too familial to disband.

But occasionally, they talked about other things than clans.

“You’re quite responsible,” Seri told him.

He chuckled and gave her the drink. “Not frivolous?”

“Still frivolous.” She softened. “But also responsible.”

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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.

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Body Heat

Apr
14

Saruhiko went to bed cold because Misaki turned the heat off at night, forgetting they were both there now to share the bill. He always woke up halfway through the night, practically sweltering under Misaki’s body heat because Misaki was an irrepressible cuddler who used his bedmate like a body pillow.

A few halfhearted elbow jabs never seemed to wake him and shoving him right off only resulted in a repeat occurrence before Saruhiko even managed to get back to sleep.

“You’re a horrible bedmate,” he complained in the morning.

Misaki scoffed, knowing he’d still choose to sleep with him.

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Inside Our World

Apr
13

It was raining outside.

(more…)

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Drenched Kitten

Apr
12

Usually it was Chuuya fishing Dazai out of whatever body of water he’d thrown himself into, (more…)

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The Future

Apr
10

Rhezere didn’t like to think of memories, instead he made endless plans. But sometimes he dreamed them, waking with screams strangled between his teeth.

Sometimes he woke and muffled the memories until they faded. Sometimes he called Kasuru, who had seen his scars and never heard the stories behind them.

“You did a terrible job of healing them,” Rhezere complained. “When the weather’s bad, they hurt.”

“Ah.” Kasuru could hear everything Rhezere wasn’t saying.

They didn’t talk about the past or about the aches and pains Rhezere claimed to have. They talked about their plans, their work, and the future.

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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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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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