I need a pixie icon.

Magic 8 Ball

An improbable AU in which Schuldig finds Crawfordpixies: [livejournal.com profile] voksen made me do it.


Schuldig slouched along the cement path. His head hurt and his feet hurt and they hadn’t allowed him to sleep for sixty hours. He’d been walking constant circles around the scrubby, barren yard outside the classrooms since morning. He kicked at the ground as he walked, fixated by the way the scuffed toe of his boot, damp from melting snow and spattered with blood from the exercise in the middle of the night, and he wondered when the fuck he would ever get out of this place.

He’d passed the archway so many times that he’d started to think that the sky grew longer, higher, heavier every time he moved beneath the crumbled stone, a ceremonial fixture that spoke of the school’s lofty beginnings. He walked and he grumbled and he wondered when he might be allowed to sleep again when his boot kicked something , hard, and it rolled away into the bushes

“What was that?” Schuldig said, out loud, before he came to his senses and glanced around to make sure there was no one around that could hear him. He made one more full circuit around the yard before he gathered the nerve to carefully, innocuously, bend down and peer beneath the scraggly thorns of an untended rose bush.

Schuldig’s sight was very good – he took special pride in the fact that he didn’t have to wear glasses like so many of the others he went to school with, but he still had to squint his eyes and look closely, closely before he made out any shape in the damp shadows. It was black, whatever it was, so it blended into the mulch and dark branches of a nearby yew shrub.

He reached out carefully, stretching . . .

Schuldig’s gloves were wool and worn and he’d cut the fingers out a long time ago because the threads always caught on the grip of his gun when he tried to shoot targets.   So his bare finger tips caught the edge of something round . . . it rolled away from his touch. He pressed his knees against the ground, felt the cold slush soak into his jeans, and pushed himself farther into the bushes.

His palm caught the round object, and the sphere squeaked against the wool of his palm as he pulled it to him, reaching out with the other hand to make sure it didn’t roll away. He grasped the thing tightly and sat back on his knees. Before he scrutinized his prize, his found object (and there weren’t many of those lying about in this dreadful place) he again looked left and right to be certain he was alone.

And then he looked straight at it.

A simple, black ball. Nothing more. 

Schuldig’s shoulders slumped. He’d had the feeling that it was Important, that it might Mean Something. That it would give him an answer to . . . he rolled the ball over and saw a small window at the very bottom.  Something floated around; the ball was filled with water . . .

Words floated to the surface:


“Are you fucking serious?” Schuldig said. Nose scrunched up, he peered closer and shook.

More words floated to the surface of the window.


Schuldig had been asked to do stranger things than rub a big black ball that he’d found beneath some shrubbery, so gently, tentatively, he did as he was told.

Nothing happened immediately, and Schuldig almost tossed the ball back into the bushes, but slightly, imperceptivity, the ball began to rumble, a low grumble. The ball seemed to complain. 

Schuldig frowned and rubbed the ball more vigorously.

Suddenly, the ball split apart within his hands and all the water, words and mysteries tumbled out. The two halves of the magic ball fell apart and down to the ground. It all happened so suddenly that Schuldig’s hands were still held out, cupped together, and there, in the very center of his hands stood . . .

A tiny, tiny figure, a little person wearing a small suit coat and perfectly pressed trousers. The little figure raked its hands through its hair and fluttered its wings to flap the water off. Its glasses glinted in the dull winter sunlight.

“What took you so long?” The little thing said, and kicked Schuldig’s thumb.

“What took you so long?” Schuldig said back, though he didn’t know why. He just knew that this thing . . . whatever it was could not be allowed to get the upper hand, not right away.

“I asked you first, and I’ve seen that you would stumble on me, and I mean stumble, you need to watch where you’re walking – for many months and I’ve been waiting for you to find me and get me out of that hell hole.” The little figure peered up at Schuldig. “You should really do something about your hair. What’s your name? I can see things, but I can’t hear things and I can’t read lips.”

“You’re deaf?” Schuldig asked.

The tiny figure frowned. “No. I can hear you perfectly fine. But I can see the future.”

Schuldig tried to think of a sufficient retort. “Before you start to think you’re special, I can read minds.”

“What am I thinking then?” The tiny person said and snapped his wings closed.

Schuldig bit his lip and stared very hard. He stared and pondered until the edges of his sight went grey. “You’re thinking that . . .”

“Can’t hear it, can you?”

“Give me a moment.” Schuldig brought his hands closer to his face as if the thing was only out of range and a closer inspection would bring its thoughts to him.

“No luck, eh?”

 “It feels like I’ve met you before,” Schuldig said.

“Don’t change the subject,” the winged thing said. “It’s not attractive.”

“And no, I can’t hear your thoughts!”

“Quit shouting.”

Schuldig lowered his voice. “My name’s Schuldig. What’s yours?”

Before the little creature could respond, if he planned on telling Schuldig his name at all, both of their eyes widened and they went absolutely still at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Quick, hide!” Schuldig said, and without thinking he put the bespectacled, winged . . . whatever it was, onto his shoulder. It scurried behind Schuldig’s hair and slipped into his collar at the back of his neck. “Watch where you’re going,” Schuldig warned, as he stood up straight and braced himself for whoever approached the yard. He felt a tiny breath, like a moth behind his ear and it took all of Schuldig’s long-trained, all-suffering power to not reach up and flick the thing off his neck.

A teacher approached and flexed his fists as he examined Schuldig from head to toe. “Why did you stop walking?”

Schuldig smirked. “I was walking.”

“No you weren’t.” The teacher’s name was Colonel Amlisch and he didn’t need eyes to see anything.

A tiny voice in Schuldig’s ear said, “Don’t push it, he’s about to tell you that you can go sleep now.”

Schuldig drew on every single bit of willpower he had in order to not respond. He bit the inside of his mouth and held his breath. He’d never taken advice from anything before, but he figured this thing might know what it was talking about because Schuldig had found it under a bush, its voice carried a tone that made Schuldig believe it knew what it was talking about – and it had wings for goddsake. Wings.

Amlisch stepped closer. So close, Schuldig could smell the metal, sourness of him. 

“Why are you quiet?”

Amlisch drew even closer and Schuldig felt the tiny person slip down beneath his collar, but not before it whispered, “Not a word.”

Schuldig felt all the words building up in the back of his throat. He clenched his fists and bit the other side of his mouth.

“This isn’t like you at all,” Amlisch said. One beat, two beats, three beats . . .”Maybe you should go in and sleep.”

Schuldig smiled and nodded. He rushed off toward his room before Amlisch could change his mind


And now, thanks to




[livejournal.com profile] questails, this story has perfect pixie illustrations with perfect wings:


Hugh the Slightly More Evil Pixie (but not by much).

From: [identity profile] ahpookishere.livejournal.com

How. The. Fuck. Did. I. Miss. This.

I. Think. Crawford. Makes. The. Best. Pixie. Ever.

I. Am. Squeeing. Thus. Unable. To. Speak. Sentences. Of. More. Than. One. Word.

I would rub his magic ball.

Jesus, why does this not have 93840293842 comments already?

From: [identity profile] two-point.livejournal.com

I know! WTF? I'm convinced this is the best story I've ever written in my entire life. I have no idea why the rest of the world doesn't think so.

They're intimidated by His Pixie-ness.

As well they should be!

I need to figure out what happens once Schuldig carries him to his room. Also,I want a Magic 8 Ball that comes with my own choice of options: No, No, Maybe, You're Fucking Crazy, No, Don't be a Dumbass, etc.

From: [identity profile] levadegratchets.livejournal.com

....You really have a pixie there, don't you? Because I swear you blipped this story in under radar. *suspicious look...pokes around books and papers* Where is the little bugger. They're mean.

I love this!! I would, I know, cause I'm the weirdo who thinks the most out there things are the most awesomist (is so a word).

The Magic 8 Ball. I almost laughed out loud! (am at work, obviously not working) That's great, especially when the guy is punch drunk from not sleeping sixty hours.

SO...was it really a dream or did he wake up with a smushed pixie?

Don't hide these lovelies away, please? This was whimsical and still held an edge. That is not an easy combo to juggle!

From: [identity profile] two-point.livejournal.com

There are not enough pixie stories in the world. Will you write a pixie story for me? Please?

I desperately want a Magic 8 Ball for my desk.

Oh, crawfordpixie is certainly real.

Please write a pixie story for me!

From: [identity profile] questails.livejournal.com

Is this hidden under one of those things?? It is, isn't it? Because otherwise, it would have the 9873456.75 comments that ahpookishere says it should, because it's marvellously clever! I intensely want to draw Crawford-the-pixie whispering in Schuldig's ear.. which is an unusual feeling for me, when it's characters that I'm not 100% clear on how they actually appear!

WAIT! I had pictures! Lauland left them for me!! With captions, even! I need to go find them again and review.

I would love to know what happens next. I had a highly scurrilous comment I was going to make, but after some thought, I realised it was the product of heavy doses of cold medicine for the last 36 hours, and so I've censored it.

From: [identity profile] levadegratchets.livejournal.com

Awww...c'mon...what was it! *nudge* We don't need no babysitting censors, not here! Your comments are always worth a read.

(I haz a Ramie icon!)

From: [identity profile] questails.livejournal.com

I have a Ramie icon too! GLEEEEEEEEE. Spotlight stealing aggro Leo muse!

Anyway, the comment was .. more of a statement? suggestion?.. to the effect of, crawfordpixie needs to be able to, you know, make himself rather taller, thus there can be sex, with some pixie wings in, and how pleasant is that on a Friday afternoon? Of course there could still be sexual content with a three-inch-high crawfordpixie, but my goodness.. pixie erotica... that needs to wait until Saturday night.'

I bet you're sorry you asked. D-8


The evil influence of my muse is rather stronger than usual XD

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From: [identity profile] two-point.livejournal.com

I am the luckiest person in the world because I have two people who will read crack!anime crack AU's and still be kind enough to tell me I did it well. I love you.

The funny thing about this journal is that the stories fade to black but the comments are NC-17.

I will learn to write pixie porn.

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From: [identity profile] voksen.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-08-29 01:06 am (UTC) - Expand

From: [identity profile] voksen.livejournal.com


But yeah, pixiecrawford had better be real. And where's the part where realcrawford meets him? I want that. :( So goodddddd yess precious

From: [identity profile] two-point.livejournal.com

You just came over here to make sure I didn't post your pixieporn epilogue.

But, thank you! I think you're very nice, and I'll keep thinking that as long as you keep writing Rosenkreuz fic.

From: [identity profile] two-point.livejournal.com

Also, do we want realcrawford to be real or do we want crawford to only be a pixie?

From: [identity profile] voksen.livejournal.com

I want them both.

I want real/pixiecrawford oh man it will be like clonecest except with tiny winged pixie hotness. HELP I'M CREEPY. write itanyway.

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From: [identity profile] daegaer.livejournal.com

This is indeed the best of stories! Schuldig knows there are fairies at the bottom of the garden (or now, in his hair)! Ad so began Schuldig's new life, little did he know what he was letting himself in for, hee!

From: [identity profile] two-point.livejournal.com

Thank you! The possibilities are endless! Now if only I could get Crawfordpixie out of Schuldig's hair, we can see what trouble they get into. There will certainly be trouble, even if he stays in Schuldig's hair.

From: [identity profile] smoothlikebutta.livejournal.com

I absolutely love the idea of a tiny Crawford in a Magic Eight Ball. Ahahaha.

From: [identity profile] two-point.livejournal.com

Thank you! It's a natural progression for Crawford, I think. Maybe Schuldig could shake Crawfordpixie and force answers out of him, like a Magic 8 Ball.

From: [identity profile] voksen.livejournal.com

I think I once saw a fanart or a doujin or somethign where he did that with normal sized crawford

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From: [identity profile] dr-zook.livejournal.com

Awesome. I want at least one sequel. Is this too impolite?


From: [identity profile] two-point.livejournal.com

Never too impolite, and thank you! Now that we've figured out the mechanics of pixie sex, sequel is in the works.

From: [identity profile] lauand.livejournal.com

I'm most curious about what prompted this. I'm not sure what possess a person to write Crawford as a pixie.

I liked the banter. With the 8-ball too, not only with the pixie himself. I'm still not certain what I think about a Crawford with wings. It's not the size, you know. It's the wings.

How old is Schuldig here? (Just curious, since you achieved to make him sound young as well as Schuldig-like.)

Did I hear sequel?

From: [identity profile] two-point.livejournal.com

But Crawford has to have wings, because he's a pixie!

This would have to be a young-ish Schuldig, which might be even more petulant than an older Schuldig, if that's at all possible.

I absolutely must know what Schuldig is going to do with Crawfordpixie once he gets him back to his room, so there will be a sequel. There must be.

He must have wings!

From: [identity profile] tirwolf.livejournal.com

So is there more pixie Crawford on the horizon? Very cute but there seems to be so much left unwritten as yet? Hope you'll turn this into a longer story line. Thanks for sharing.

From: [identity profile] two-point.livejournal.com

Thank you for reading! Crawfordpixie is currently holding Schuldig in a state of thrall and will allow me to write about their exploits shortly.

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