#ficbits

You know how sometimes you're writing a Harry Potter fic, and you need to make up a spell, or a potion? And you wrack your brain forever trying to think of something? I thought it would be nice to have a way to share those little fic bits; to borrow from other writers, and loan out our own little bits of genius. 😊 In return, just tag or mention who you borrowed from when you post your fic using anyone's bit.

My list is behind the cut, and I'd love to add others' ideas! DM me or comment if you'd like to contribute! I will tag you with your fic bits. 🙂 This will be in my pinned masterlist so people can easily find it.

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. Potions, Spells, Creatures, Elf Names and more behind the cut! ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

And still, even through everything— Hello! Hello, I see you, I love you, and he was almost stupid enough to open his mouth—

Garak blinked, exhaled, and said conversationally, "She's actually quite a pleasant person."

Ah. Okay. He gulped down the romance, hoping he wouldn't get heartburn. Let’s fence, then.

"Nuril, you mean?”

“The one and only.”

“Ah. Well, we've mostly only communicated by letter. Perhaps she's different in real life.”

“Perhaps,” said Garak. "She's almost unflappable, you know. But you do seem to leave quite the impression on her. ”

Hmm. “That’s nice to hear.” Probably not.

“Mmm,” said Garak, whose tone confirmed the probably not. “Do you know, I would imagine she's not at all happy with you at the moment. She was three weeks off kobel nut, you know.”

"So she said. Sounds like a nasty habit."

"Oh, it is. Easy to pick up, and very difficult to get rid of," said Garak, tilting his head, dropping the friendly, casual demeanour in an instant: "And now, Doctor, you are going to tell me: What are you doing here?"

And time stretched for Julian as he realized: this was it. This was now. So many months waiting and hoping for now, and it was here, and he could say, I came to find you. He could say, you bastard, where have you been? He could say, please give me one more chance. He could say, I love you, don’t you love me?

All of these would be very wrong things to say to Minister of Accountability Elim Garak, whose vulnerability appeared to be at an all time low.

All right. Drop it all. Start over. Watch me, Tozen!

“Well,” he said, shifting in the too-plush chair, “I’ve wanted to spend more time on Cardassia. My last visit here was so brief.” Garak didn't say anything, so he plowed on: “And I thought I’d start with sight-seeing the capital buildings. The Ministerial Hall is really very lovely, although I didn’t get to spend as much time there as I would have liked either. They took me downstairs before I got to poke around and put me in a cell. At least Cardassian jail wasn't as bad as I thought it might be.” He smiled: please smile. Please laugh. Some inkling that the Garak he’d thought he’d known was in there…

And Garak did laugh, but it wasn't the laugh he’d wanted. It was Garak’s horrible dry-leaf laugh, no humour in it at all: "That was not,” he said, “a Cardassian jail. That was a Cardassian holding cell. A very nice Cardassian holding cell. You see,” and he stood and started to pace the conference room, and Julian watched him as he moved back and forth, back and forth, “no one would dare take you to Cardassian jail. Not you.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, I assure you it is. Not when you’re in some way linked with me.”

“They’re afraid of you?”

“What do you think?”

“That must be nice for you. I’m sure you missed it.” Which wasn’t a nice thing to say, but he wasn’t feeling very nice right now.

Garak took it in stride: “It has its conveniences, certainly. But maintaining the proper respect also has its requirements, one of which is that one can have no liabilities. A person with liabilities is a person who can be manipulated, you see. And here you are, clearly involved with me in some way, shouting loudly in the middle of the Ministerial Hall that you simply must see Secretary Nuril, who is known to work closely with me, and do you see,” as Garak stopped dead and stared at him, coldly and calmly furious, “how you are already a liability to me?”

“Garak, I—“

“You’ve been on this world, what, a day?”

He swallowed. "Three hours.”

“Impressive. And you are already destabilizing my situation.”

Julian narrowed his eyes. “If I can do that in three hours then it isn’t very damned stable, is it.”

“Nothing is stable on a world that is changing this rapidly, Doctor,” said Garak, still furious and still so calm. “Nothing can be taken for granted. I need to establish that I am something that is absolutely stable. That nothing can be slipped by me. That there is no way to have leverage over me. And now your presence here threatens everything I am trying to accomplish.”

Oh, that was hyperbolic even for Garak. “My mere existence on Cardassian soil—“

“Is exactly what I was trying to prevent! Exactly what I wanted to avoid. Sentiment. Exposure. I cannot afford to have secrets, Doctor, and you are far too enticing a secret to conceal for long. There is no way you can be here without compromising—"

"Do you still love me?"

Oh, God. He'd said it. Out loud. He'd shouted it, actually, half-rising from his seat with hands braced on the table, voice sharp enough to cut through Garak's diatribe, and now it was just hanging there between them and anything could happen—

And of all the reactions Julian had imagined over the months of silence - impassioned affirmation, shock, sadness, amusement - Garak, full of surprises, still came up with one that he hadn't expected:

He looked at Julian like he was an absolute idiot.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It—" Damn! "Garak, it has everything to do with everything, I'm only here because—"

"Do you take milk or sugar?"

"Come the fuck back over here."

Miles blinks at him.

"You heard me."

Deliberately, Miles takes a sip of his tea, then puts the cup down. Phoenix opens his arms wide, realizing briefly that he stinks, not caring, and it works out fine because Miles moves straight into them, climbing on to the bed and dropping on Phoenix like a great big cat.

Phoenix hugs him. He hugs him as hard as he can. He squeezes so hard his muscles ache. He splays his fingers around Miles's sides.

Miles lets out a brief huff, then a small amused snort, and then he gives as good as he gets. Ooof: Miles is strong. Stronger than Phoenix had figured. Then again, Phoenix is realizing that Miles has a bit more muscle on him than Phoenix had imagined. He'd never really had time to appreciate that before, has never really had time for things to not be urgent and dramatic. He's never had time for tea and a robe and a hug that feels like it's massaging his soul.

"Hey," says Phoenix, smiling and kind of stupid. "Hey. Hey, there."

"Hello," says Miles, with a hint of a laugh in his voice. "Good morning."

"Yeah? You think so?"

"It's all right so far."

"That's good: don't get your hopes up."

hihi o/ this was a fiona-centric fic exploring his dynamic with his ethnic identity <33 i was hit in a flash of inspiration and I had to start writing in the middle of a conference 😭

“Uhhhhh-”

Quick, play dumb!

“What’s food?”

Yuuri reached up and tangled his fingers in Viktor’s hair, pulling him the last centimeters to connect their lips. It was nice that Viktor was so considerate, but sometimes it would be nice, Yuuri thought, if he just…

The earthquake started, and he instinctively froze, waiting. The rolling was light, enough to be noticeable, but not enough to do much damage. It only lasted three or four second. The birds had paused in their song for a moment, but started singing again like nothing had happened.

Pulling back from the kiss, Yuuri could see that Viktor’s blue eyes were larger than usual.

“Did you feel that?” Viktor asked.

He looked so shocked that Yuuri couldn’t resist. “Feel what?” he asked, putting on his most innocent expression.

Viktor was looking around the park for some clue. “It felt like the earth moved for a moment.”