Building Relationships with the Fair Folk: 5

Fairies are finicky creatures, and so we must not expect a lot from them and we must be patient in our search for them

Content warnings: Coarse language, drug references

It had been almost two weeks and Wes wasn’t worrying. He was much too busy with papers and rotation and shopping and food prep, which took up way more time than he considered reasonable. But Pidge would want him to eat properly, even if he wasn’t there to bully Wes into it.

Leaving the window open with a glass of oat milk on the sill hadn’t lured Pidge back, and nor had the pile of glitter or the Claire’s plastic bracelet he’d got out of the hospital’s lost and found. His WhatsApp messages were left unread too and no birds had tapped on the window to tell him, in Pidge’s voice, that the Alaskan Thunder Fuck was budding and he’d be right over when the harvesting was done. Wes knew, because Jessica kept repeating it, that this was to be expected, it came with the territory of dating a supernatural creature, or a guy who was almost thirty and sold weed out of a derelict warehouse. Wes worried anyway though because maybe another of Pidge’s siblings had hurt him, or maybe he’d gotten bored of playing house with a mortal, or maybe he’d just gotten bored of Wes.  

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Building Relationships with the Fair Folk: 4

To welcome fairies to your home, leave out a small bowl of milk before you go to bed. Fairies love milk, and will take this as an offering to them.

Content warning: Coarse language

In some ways, Pidge was a lot like the stray cat that Wes left food out for on the porch. He came and went as he pleased, and you never knew for sure how long he’d stay.

The cat, actually, was a bit more predictable.

“Seen him?” Wes asked, scratching the orange tabby’s ears as it butted against his shin and pushed its nose into the bowl of kibble he’d set out. “Down an alley maybe? Up a tree? Is he hanging out in the colony with you?”

The cat made no answer beyond enthusiastic chewing noises, so Wes stroked its back once more and went back inside. He futzed around in the kitchen a while and then retreated to his room. It was getting late – even for Wes, for whom bedtime was usually when his face collided with his laptop – and so he shut of the lights, arranged something on the windowsill, just in case, and rolled into bed.

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Building Relationships with the Fair Folk: 3

Fairies are whimsical and enjoy changing their shapes. They can even take the form of animals and plants for fun and to play pranks.

Content warning: Coarse language

“…Pidge?” Wes said warily.

The pigeon stayed where it was, looking fat and stupid. It was sitting where Judd had said it was, on weathered boards of their porch, legs sticking out in front of it, feathers puffed out, dull eyes staring in opposite directions.

“Did you fly into the window?” Wes asked it gently. “Or get mauled? I think you’re in shock, but maybe you’re just a pigeon?”

The pigeon continued to be a pigeon.

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Building Relationships with the Fair Folk: 2

On the making and setting of fairy traps

Content warning: Coarse language

“Where the hell have you been?”

Pidge sat bolt upright on the mossy couch where he’d been lounging watching Animal Planet and the Real Housewives simultaneously on split screen. His eyes were pointing in slightly different directions but he narrowed them both as Chick dropped down from the rafters and started pulling her boots off with a groan.

“It’s been five days,” said Pidge, as if Chick didn’t know. “Not a peep from the birds and I heard nothin’ through the grapevine.” He glanced at the trellis in the corner where dark green foliage and heavy purple fruit hung indolently. “No texts, neither.”

“Aw,” said Chick, tapping soil out of her shoe. “Were you worried?”

“No,” said Pidge and then added, jealously, “You were with Mozzie, weren’t you? You can tell me.”

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Building Relationships with the Fair Folk: 1

How to summon a fairy queen

Content warnings: Coarse language, mild sexual references

She was slim and beautiful and covered in peanut butter.

“Pidge?” said Wes, and then said it again, higher and more desperate. “Pidge??”

Pidge said something barely audible from the kitchen where he was wrist deep in a fucking turkey, Westopher, this better be a fucking emergency.

“It’s an emergency,” said Wes, and leapt back as she swiped for his ankles. “Pidge! It happened again!”

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