it's really exhausting to see hatred on elves everywhere and no love for them at all. Wherever I go people just hate elves for stupid reasons or for nothing at all, there is no exception to it. Not to mention there isn't a single place for elves fans be it on tumblr, youtube, discord, reddit,... Not a single tiny community, it's exhausting seeing the race you love most getting trashed down by the whole internet. Not ot mention that because of that there is no fan content on elves, at all. No comics, books, games or other medias.
And this "trend" has been going on for at least 20 years, when will it end?
Excerpt from my kissy kissy elves draft. Dragon age setting, but it’s all OCs. My OC is Eilan Lavellan and @bluewren’s OC is Lex Lavellan.
Lex and Eilan are twenty years old. Lex has been off on a solo adventure for seven months. Eilan has received three letters from him in that time. (Forwarding letters to a nomadic clan is very hard.)
wc: 585
Five weeks after Lex’s third letter Clan Lavellan was camped outside Kirkwall. It was here one year ago in a clearing in the woods not a half mile out from camp that Lex had first learned of Eilan’s secret playwriting. Eilan had been so nervous to tell him, so scared he would find her strange. She still remembered the tender way he looked at her, and how touched he had been to be let him into her secret. Though they had kissed hundreds of times before and hundreds of times since, that kiss stuck out in her memory for it was the first time something like love had wormed its way into her reluctant heart.
Remembering that moment made Eilan ache with longing. She could not focus on that day’s magic tutoring. Today’s lesson: augury. She knelt on a pillow in her grandmother’s, the Keeper’s, tent. Incense burned in a corner. It smelled of jasmine and rose. Eilan stared blankly at a silver plate filled with colorless oil. She recited an incantation as she poured a darker oil from a small vial, drop by drop, and watched the oils swirl. The patterns were supposed to mean something, but all Eilan could see was Lex.
Outside the tent a young man whooped jubilantly. A woman cried out as an excited murmur swept through the camp. Eilan cocked her ear towards the exultations. Her heart raced against hope. Finally she heard Evelyn cry out, “Lex!”
Eilan gasped and looked towards the tent’s exit. Her grandmother smiled knowingly. “Go.”
Eilan leapt her feet and sprinted out of the tent. She followed the stream of clanmates, her eyes peeled as she searched for him. There he was, in a bear hug with his sisters, one arm around Evelyn and the other around Tali. The siblings swayed from side to side as they embraced. When they parted Evelyn inspected her brother for any signs of ailments, malnourishment, injuries, and general neglect. Lex let himself be fussed over as he ruffled Tali’s hair and said something to make her laugh.
Cylen called out “Letha!”, the hip abbreviation of ‘lethallin’, the elven honorific for a friend. The men embraced, patting each other on the back.
Elves lined up to greet Lex one by one. Those who belonged to the generation of parents who saw all teens and 20-somethings as their communal brood made sure to impart little observations with their greetings — “You got a tan!” “Survived the wilds, eh? Good lad.” “Look at you! Feeling all grown up?”
Lex spotted Eilan at the back of the line and looked arrested as if by a vision. He worked his way through the crowd of well-wishers and greeters with polite impatience, often stealing glances at her. She was overcome, hands clasped over her nose and mouth, eyes wet with happiness.
At last he reached her, his hands sliding along her waist as he pulled her close. He buried his face in her hair. They held each other tightly. She smoothed a hand over his back. He cradled her head close. They kissed several times.
“I missed you,” they both said at the same time, in the same way. They laughed at the synchronicism. He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. They kissed again.
A sparse wisp of hair clung to his chin. “This is new,” she said as she rubbed it.
“Yea,” he said. He couldn’t stop smiling. He cupped her face and looked at her like she hung the moon.
Series Rating: 18+
Chapter Contains: no warnings
Pairing: f/m
BeMo Masterlist ☆ Writing Masterlist
For about a week, I had put off opening the mysterious box my elf courier randomly gave me. Apparently it was a present from him, though he had failed to mention that at the time. When I confessed to neglecting the box, he was understandably piqued. I didn’t mean to insult him; I seriously had no idea it was important for me to open ASAP.
Caera, wafted around me as I sat down, blade in hand, ready to open the gift. She had bothered me a time or two about it. Now I felt her excitement in the air as I cut the twine and opened the box.
First, I found a note. “A welcoming gift. I hope it’s to your taste. Perhaps I’ll see you at the Brumalis feis in this? Or not in this, whichever you prefer, Little Witch,” I read aloud. I groaned and tossed the letter aside. He was never going to let me live down how we first met—I was naked and he got a good long view.
I pulled a dress out of the box. Made of black chiffon, it was a simple, sleeveless, shift dress sewn in panels to give the subtle illusion of a spider web. Okay it was actually really cute and seemed like it would fit. It was too sheer on its own, but I had plenty of options to wear under it. Feeling giddy, I decided to play dress-up.
This was going to be the first feis I took part in since moving to Arvos. I missed the Autumnal feis because I was so busy settling in and dealing with Caera’s mischief at the time. I still paid my respects, but there was no celebrating beyond enjoying a large piece of fudge and a bottle of delicious mead. For Brumalis, I was thinking of going no holds barred.
Brumalis celebrated the end of the harvests and marked the changing of the seasons to winter. Since it began the season of death, it was also the time when we paid respect to those departed. Grand festivals went from sunset the day before, to sunrise the day after. Both autumn and winter colors were popular. Blending the color schemes was equally as common as costume changes. However, multiple outfits would not be wise this year. I planned on getting wasted. I doubted future-me would have the coordination to successfully change clothes without any troubles. And I really did not want to risk ruining my new dress—even if it was from a bothersome elf.
The next day, I stopped in at Honey Cup to grab a latte on my way to the archive. I had research to do and needed all the caffeine I could get. Plus, I was hoping that I’d be able to run into the air elf again so I wouldn’t need to track him down on my own.
“Sweet morning, Witch. You’re in here earlier than usual,” greeted Honey.
That was another reason I needed caffeine: I was up way too early for the schedule I kept. Sleep eluded me half the night. I was even able to watch the sunrise for once today—it would have been lovely if it weren’t for my unexpected guest. “I feel dead inside.”
“Spiced tea latte?”
“Yes. In the largest size you can make.” I leaned on the counter and stared at the menu. I never took the time before to look at all the food options they had. Most were fruit or vegetable based pastries, along with a couple hearty soups for the season. The café was still slow at this hour so I wasn’t worried with holding up the line as I tried to pick something. “I’m torn between a berry tart and a veggie pot pie. Both sound amazing right now.”
“How about the pot pie for now and take the tart to go?”
“See this is why I love you. You let me indulge in all my cravings. It’s also why I hate you—for enabling my poor habits.”
“What kind of fae would I be if I didn’t tempt my patrons?” She smiled mischievously as she handed me my tea. The warmth of the mug seeping into my hands was bliss. I curled up in the corner of a couch and sipped, savoring the flow of this magical life-giving beverage at this unholy hour. Within a couple minutes she delivered my food to me too.
Never have I scarfed down any meal as quickly as I did that pie. I was fairly certain it was spelled to be more delicious than any food could hope to be. Then again, I had been up for hours now with nothing in my stomach, so it might have just been my ravenous hunger. Still, it was heavenly.
“Hey Honey, how often does that one courier come here?”
Her eyes flashed up at me and the corners of her mouth tugged into a sly smirk. “Why the inquiry, dear Witch?”
“Don’t read too much into it,” I warned. “I just want to know if I should bother trying to run into him here, or just call for him at the postal court.”
She dashed over and flung herself onto the couch beside me—and partially onto me. “You opened the gift?” Her voice chimed with the joy of a child receiving the puppy they always wanted. It was a challenge not rolling my eyes at her gossip-loving reaction.
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“He gave me a dress and said he hoped to see me at the Brumalis feis.”
She jerked away, sitting up straight and cocking her head slightly. “Gave you a dress?” I nodded. “He, gave you a dress? He gave you—and just wished to see you there? Not ask you there on a—what have you done to him?” she accused.
“What? Nothing! We barely know each other. I think we’ve maybe had like—three?—interactions so far. Maybe four. I didn’t spell him, that’s for sure.”
She pulled her legs up and wrapped an arm around them as she placed her thumb to her lip. “I’ve just never known him to be the generous sort like this. I’d thought he offer the dress as a bribe to being his date, not give it freely.”
Her insight played weirdly with my heart. The only notable thing that happened between the air elf and myself was me flashing him. Was that enough of a moment to make him act uncharacteristic? I didn’t think my body was that special—being a short, small chested, jiggly pear. It was nice thinking my natural self had charmed someone to such a degree.
My joy dipped as the Honey’s finger dug into my cheek. “Someone’s blushing!” she sang.
“I’m going to the post now.”
“Fine, fine,” she continued to sing. She jumped up and walked behind the counter to grab the little bag she prepped my tart in already. She handed it to me, along with a small tea to go, and waved me off. “But expect to dish the deets at some point.”
“Sweet day, Neighbor.” I switched back to the default fae-name to pester her as much as she had me. It only made her smile more.
“And a very sweet day for you, Witch,” she winked.
The postal court was a bit out of the way from the archive, but it shouldn’t be too long of a detour. Not that the books were going anywhere. I had never been inside the building before and was a bit awestruck when I entered. Vaulted ceilings, towering columns, and rows and rows of equaling towering shelves filled with packages stretching back behind the large clerk desk bisecting the lobby.
Once it was my turn, I greeted the clerk and asked, “I was wondering if one of the couriers was currently in. Or if I could leave a message for him.”
“Courier number?”
“What?—Oh. Umm, I don’t know… his number,” I admitted. “I’m the witch from the southeast woods. Is there a way to see who has delivered there? He’s the only one that’s come by.”
“Don’t worry,” answered a voice behind me as a hand touched my shoulder. I turned to greet a familiar grin. “I believe I’m the one she’s looking for.”
“That was easy.” We walked off to the side of the lobby for a bit of privacy.
“I’ll come whenever you like, Witch,” he said and leaned against the wall. He pulled one of his vambraces out of his bag and started strapping it on his arm.
“Watch your words,” I slyly retorted. But we both knew he measured every word he chose well.
“Visiting me at work now,” the air elf said and reached in his bag for his second vambrace. “I might start getting the wrong idea.”
“I only came to thank you for the dress and accept your invitation.”
His eyes sparkled. “Perhaps I’m getting the right idea after all.”
“Oh, please,” I snickered. “I don’t know many people yet, and I’m going to be at the feis anyway. Hanging with you should be much more fun than partying alone.”
“Hmm. I prefer my own interpretations. Anyways, what color dress will you be wearing? We should coordinate.”
“What makes you think I’m gonna wear anything under the dress you gave me?” I teased, feeling my flirty side bubble up.
He raised his brow and gave me a knowing look. “Because as you’ve already demonstrated a second ago, you love destroying my fantasies.”
I shrugged innocently and took a sip of my tea. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see then. Or not see. Whichever I end up preferring.”
He chuckled darkly and traced his fingers down my arm. “Wicked, little Witch. You could kill a male with such trepidation.”
“Good thing I know how to dispose of bodies and am attracted to the other sexes.”
His laugh filled the room twice over, resulting in many looks our way from both employees and patrons. It sounded like summer, well into a still bright evening. He brought my hand to his lips. For three heartbeats, he kissed it. Slowly he brought his eyes up to mine and sent butterflies fluttering into my core. “Until the feis. Little Witch.”
I watched him leave and return to his work. The air felt lighter.
Ahh! Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like. Lex and Eilan wind up making fake potions to sell in a human village. How did they end up there? Here's an excerpt.
wc: 519
“We’ll make fake potions real quick.”
“Fake potions?”
Lex grinned, proud of himself. “Yea, I came up with this in Nevarra. Making real potions takes too long. But with a little magic you can take any old plant and make it look like something else or smell like something else, then mash it up with a little water or whatever, bam, it looks like elf root serum or whatever you want it to look like.”
He was so clever. Eilan kneeled down and impulsively kiss his cheek. “You’re handsome.”
“Oh yea? Is doing crimes sexy?” His smile was a touch bashful — was that a hint of color on his cheeks?
“Anything you do is sexy.”
“Hey, that’s my line.” He looked utterly disarmed, even goofy, as he soaked in her approval. He leaned in for a chaste kiss, one that would not do, not now after Eilan had witnessed his competence in the human village and been aroused by it. She deepened the kiss, her lust quickening in a way that made him chuckle. He smiled against her cheek as he cooled her passions. “Okay, okay, I’ll do more crimes,” he teased.
Eilan mimicked Lex’s male swagger as she said, “Looking so good, you’re already a crime.”
He laughed. “You haven’t even done one crime yet and you’re already a badass. Come on, little miss smooth talker, we have potions to make.”
With the enthusiasm of children at play, they took up their new enterprise as potion scammers, thinking no further ahead than what could be bought tomorrow with the money made today. As they brewed their useless elixirs, Lex told her about the delicious treats, curious trinkets and glittering accessories that he had seen at a Nevarran festival. He rattled off the prices and Eilan adjusted her inventive concoctions accordingly. The combination of his skill with plants, her knowledge of botanical medicine, and her talent for fiction yielded clever results. In the past Lex had brewed imitations of real potions, but Eilan had never been so limited by reality.
She took his knife and sliced off three short strands of her hair. She held up to the sun a bottle that contained an orange-colored jelly and dropped the hair atop the goop. Her brows knit in concentration as she recited in her mind the same telekinesis spell that she had used to the day before. This time, however, her targets were too small and slipped free of her arcane grip.
“What are you doing?” Lex asked.
“Shh, shh.”
To sharpen her focus she repeated the incantation aloud. Her free hand worked in strange, jerky patterns as she pinched and twisted the invisible fabric of the fade, that ambient magic felt only by mages. Millimeter by millimeter the strands of hair moved deeper into the bottle.
“Wow,” said Lex.
She kept at it for eight long minutes, slowly working the strands into place until finally they stood vertically, suspended in the orange gel like a centerpiece. “Perfect.”
“You’re unreal, babe. What is that supposed to be?”
“A tonic for balding.”
Lex snickered. He knew there was no such thing.
