You follow the strange, melody-less song. As you follow the music along the path of little lights, they dissipate when you near them as a new one brightens in the distance. After what feels like ages, you arrive at a clearing. Many people are dancing and playing instruments, while others sit at a long table joyously feasting. At the head of the table sits a pair of beautiful people who seem to be the leaders. The man gets up and meets you wordlessly, putting his own chalice of wine in front of your face.

Unthinkingly, you gladly accept the offering. You bring your lips to the cusp of the chalice, and feel the earthy drink hit your taste buds.
You have accepted a gift from the fair folk. You may never leave.


Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing,
Aye as the gowans grow gay
There she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn.
The first morning in May

"If I had yon horn that I hear blawing,
And yon elf-knight to sleep in my bosom."
This maiden had scarcely these words spoken,
Till in at her window the elf-knight has luppen.

"It's a very strange matter, fair maiden," said he, "I canna blaw my horn but ye call on me. But will ye go to yon greenwood side?
If ye canna gang, I will cause you to ride."


Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.


I first felt called to the good neighbors when I read William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream in my adolecense. I was enraptured with their depiction, and this interest evolved as I grew into my newfound pagan beliefs. I now respect the fair folk as dangerous cohabitators of my world, working with them to serve our interests. Despite this evolved understanding of the good neighbors into something less Victorian, I stil cannot shake my romanticization of them and fantasize about being stolen away by an otherworldly lover, or being the lover myself.

↓ Oberon's scherzo with Hugo Marchand and Muriel Zusperreguy ↓

This fascination, like many of mine, is somewhat rooted in my oppressed traits. I resonate particularly with the tale of the changeling, which surely has a history of being applied to autistic children and other disabilities. As an autistic person, I indeed grew up feeling like I functioned differently on a fundamental level from others.

I also adore the effeminacy present in most depictions of male fairies/elves/whathaveyou. They are masculine within their own society, yet from an outsiders perspective are extremely feminine. This juxtapositon is something I am obsessed with, and seek to embody- my own version of flamboyant masculinity. Being a bisexual nonbinary trans man is very interesting. This feminine masculinity is also an aspect of my fascination with vampires. I don't know if I am quite explaining this concept clearly, but I assume other gay men reading this understand what I mean to say.