#Pixies AU

[salty-an-disco]

been coloring these pixies sketches a few at a time for a while now, and finally did them all

(none of these were drawn to scale; saying this mainly cuz it's very important to me that you know Oppy isn't as tall as he looks next to Smitten)

[treeturtart]

Pixie Hollow fairies mumscarian??? 👀

Here, Grian's a fast flyer, Mumbo's a tinker and Scar's an art fairy !!

They would live together in the same grove yes yes ^_^

Made new tag for this au: #pixie hermit hollow au!!

Had to rework it since there was already a #hermit hollow au tag and I wanted my own au

(Doesn't exclude life series peeps btw, just a cool name for it ye)

[fairsweetlonging]

pixie!shen yuan au where he transmigrates into a cute little forest pixie, with pretty gossamer wings that sparkle like stars, a voice that tinkles like tiny silver bells, and long dark hair that he braids while wearing flowers as sunhats!!

he lives in a hollow tree on cang qiong, enjoying the rivers and groves and rocky cliff faces. his little house is filled with all kinds of trinkets, a lot of which he's stolen found from the sect, like buttons and beads and scraps of silk, needles as swords and fancy tea leaves from pots left out by kitchen windows. he quite likes his little life, the only downside is that he can't really read books this way, because even though he sneaks into the libraries at night and his wings are a source of light, most books are way too heavy and he's worried his (faint but present) spiritual energy will be detected.

he watches the disciples train on different peaks, soaking in all the new lore and details that airplane put way too little time and energy into. he's there before the plot, so binghe hasn't arrived yet and he can take his sweet time making a plan to ensure binghe won't destroy the mountain.

one day, though, the rare time he ventures out into qing jing peak, he gets distracted by an open window to the bamboo house. he knows it's stupid, but this might be the only chance he has to take a look inside the villain's lair, it's something he needs to know if he wants to help binghe in the future, and so he goes inside and takes a look around—

and promply gets trapped inside a mason jar.

oops.

shen qingqiu's face looks at him from the other side of the glass, still menacingly beautiful even with the slight distortion. worst-case scenarios flash through his head; crushed into pixie jam, experimentation, harvested for parts, stalled out like a fancy ornament on the shelf... but it's none of that.

"sneaking around my peak, entering my home, naughty little thing," shen qingqiu huffs, "were you not taught manners?"

he leaves the jar on the desk for a bit, chiding shen yuan but then—opens the jar? and lets him out? he tells shen yuan not to sneak into his house anymore and then just... continues with his paperwork. shen qingqiu's cruelty is limited to humans, it seems, and not animals or tiny fairies.

so of course shen yuan comes back.

he doesn't want to push it and risk shen qingqiu crushing him like a fly, but he enjoys hanging around the house and watching the qing jing disciples train and play music. ning yingying is already there, so it can't be much longer before binghe arrives. shen qingqiu is surprisingly kind to her compared to the other disciples, who he regularly drives to tears. the man notices him and tries to shoo him off, but ofc it doesn't work. after some time shen qingqiu keeps casually looking around to find him and shen yuan is proud to be getting on the man's nerves.

at some point liu qingge comes by, stomping hard enough to make the leaves shen yuan uses as a hammock shake. since it's the bai zhan war god shen yuan is excited to see him (liu qingge is often on missions, and shen yuan avoids bai zhan out of a healthy precaution of aggressive teens with swords), so he comes closer. the two peak lords hold the stupidest argument known to man that shen yuan only half listens to, fascinated by the sword liu qingge carries. but then liu qingge suddenly jerks his arm and shen yuan spooks, shooting up.

liu qingge sees something flying at his face and reacts like anyone would—he swats at it. hard.

when shen yuan hits the ground he can feel his wings get crushed under him; for a few seconds he's terrified liu qingge will stomp on him and scrambles to get away, only to get grabbed and scooped up into the air. he wildly kicks his legs and hits his tiny little fists on the hands that hold him, little voice jingling like crazy, but then shen qingqiu raises his voice and snarls at liu qingge.

"you idiot! watch where you wave those big paws of yours, brute! look what you did, you could have killed him!!"

then shen qingqiu turns around and goes into his bamboo house, kicking the door shut. he takes shen yuan to his bedroom, putting him on a soft handkerchief as he looks over his little wings and mutters vicious things to himself about "slaughter-happy idiots". shen yuan is too stunned to respond and just sits there as the scum villain fusses over him. his wings aren't really hurt, just a little squished, it's fine! shen qingqiu then lectures him for being reckless and coming so close to a brute like liu qingge.

after that they sort of become... friendly? shen yuan sets out to be the most mischievous little pixie he can be, but somehow it only works in his favor; he steals little things from shen qingqiu's home (not that he can carry much more than a button or brush), flutters in circles around the man's head, dips his little boots in ink and then walks on paperwork, etc. but shen qingqiu doesn't seem bothered by any of it. if anything, he leaves trinkets for shen yuan to take, offers his hand as a perch to sit on, and makes a tiny brush for shen yuan to use instead.

shen qingqiu gains a little friend and life gets a little calmer on qing jing peak. when binghe comes, shen yuan manages to distract shen qingqiu enough that the tea dumping never happens, and binghe is shooed off after the ceremony. binghe still isn't treated right and still has to sleep in the woodshed, but shen yuan secretly helps him and acts like a little night light in the dark, so binghe gets quite attached.

meanwhile liu qingge is regretful of having slammed a pixie out of midair and must prove his honor, thus begins the habit of dropping off gifts at shen qingqiu's doorstep (also because his sister freaked out a little, apparently hurting fairies is bad luck and he might have cursed himself for eternity? anyway).

this display causes yue qingyuan to show up too with the biggest wettest puppy eyes because he heard xiao jiu has a new friend who now lives in his house? shen qingqiu kicks them all out.

this has already gone on so long so the last thing i want to add is shen yuan eventually manages to cultivate a human form, and with a little effort he can even keep his wings! and of course this makes it worse, because that sweet little pixie is now a beautiful man who wife beams everyone in a three mile radius and doesn't even notice it.

shen qingqiu and luo binghe unexpectedly bond over beating suitors away.

[reddish-ash]

Nutcracker AU Carol and Theo

[pbeltarts]

I am indulging in a dorky au that I've quickly become obsessed with

some HC ideas about the au under the cut!

- wing shapes and patterns are used to make assumptions about fairies and their skills

- dk’s wings are weird and don’t work so he’s seen as bad luck or cursed

- he starts secretly experimenting with dust to try and be useful

- all night is the one to inform him about the possibilities with dust

- bakugo is seen as a savant with his magic and capabilities and his unique wings lead ppl to think he’s blessed in some way

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

me and my friends as fairies...... ft @heraxic !

we all took a test to see what kinda faries we r! i got tinkerer....... lame..........

take the quiz here!

[cubbihue]

In the VERY hypothetical situation where dev is taken to fairy world would his hair change from orange to purple?

Very likely it'd be as green as Peri's father, Cosmo!!! Something something dominate traits...

The Pixies would love him no matter the color of hair he has. Although knowing Dev, he'd just dye it black or blue to match the rest of them.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

grumpy child with purple hair.

[starlightwayfinder]

Pixie Hollow Ven! 🌟🍃

[phantomraekens]

Oomf suggested that Jean Moreau is a Victorian Child. here y'all go

Part 4 or something first prev

[tomwaterbabies]

i think there should be gnomes in pixie hollow. they're hunting for them. it's an investigation

[pixiepipedreams]

༺୨♡︎୧༺ — i am your angel of music // prologue

♡  ⁄  pairing: in-ho x reader, eventual gi-hun x reader ♡  ⁄  warnings & tags: fem!reader, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is in her 20s, in-ho & gi-hun are late in their 40s), eventual mature themes ♡  ⁄ wordcount: 1.6k ♡  ⁄ summary: a mere background dancer in the sigongkwan theater, you've spent the last year receiving voice lessons from your angel of music. PHANTOM OF THE OPERA AU. (or should i call it, frontman of the opera--)

》﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ⊹* 。 • 。* ☾☼☽ * 。° 。* ⊹ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ₊ ˚﹒ 《

A calm hush has settled over Sigongkwan Theatre. Sure, the sub-level basement, directly under the theater, plays host to the rehearsal after-party, debauchery unleashing on the theater group after a day of exhaustive work. But the halls, the dressing rooms, the theater itself, all remain silent and darkened. Few buildings have electricity in the newly divided southern Korea, and Sigongkwan relies on gas lamps and candles. With almost every resident of the theater in the only known basement level, the halls remain shrouded in midnight.

Every room is silent. Silent, but, at the very end of the hallway, there’s flickering glow peeking through the crack of the final door and the floor below it. It's only noticeable if you’re very close, if your eye catches on it.

The room is silent, an unused dressing room - except for a couple hours every night. The only light to see by are two candles - both lit by you. One for yourself, and one for the angel that visits you. Angels don't need light, you know this – it's out of respect more than anything else. You sit in front of the mirror, the dark room lingering behind you, an omnipotent presence that you could fear.

You're not afraid. You never would be. Not when your angel is coming.

The simple cotton dress that covers your legs as you sit in near-darkness is white, traditional sleepwear that leaves you open, vulnerable. To nobody else would you show yourself like this. Your hair is still wavy from the braid you wear to rehearsals, where you perform as a simple ensemble dancer. No lines, and certainly no singing part, has ever been assigned to you. When you first joined the theater group, your audition had only been for the part of dancer. Your voice was like an unpolished jewel, a precious gem that you’d tucked away to gather dust and lose its clarity after the death of your father.

Your angel believes you deserve to be the star. His quiet praise is just as intoxicating as his singing, even if you have a hard time believing you deserve anything more than the shadows you tuck yourself away in. His shadows.

“My dear muse.” A soft voice, quiet and measured, but somehow it always fills the room. Your wide eyes shine in the darkness, looking around for him like you always do, though he’s never revealed himself to you. It’s always just you and your own reflection, the two candles, and his voice. “Your performance today was the epitome of grace, elegance.” Head tilting, your eyes flutter shut, savoring the sound of that enigmatic voice.

A smile graces your lips, and you wait to hear more, but it doesn’t come. He speaks as little as is necessary, in these lessons, these secret meetings where you commune with the heaven he brings to you. “My angel,” you whisper, your voice hardly more than a breath. “Thank you. You’re too kind, as always.” Your fingers splay over the skirt of your dress, smoothing over the wrinkles, the desire to be perfect for him. “I am humbled by your return every night, to better my voice. I only wish to make you proud.” You duck your head respectfully, your voice filled with the ever-present awe of this gift he’s devoted to giving you. “I only wish I could give you something in return, more than this candle - an offering? Prayer?” Though, you and he both know that you pray to him nightly, that every moment on stage is an offering to him.

“Your melodic voice is the only gift in this room, dearest muse.” His murmur is like a balm to your soul, grace touching your ears. “Shall we begin our lesson?”

Little do you know, your dear angel watches you through the mirror you sit so devotedly in front of. Man, not angel, not pure heavenly being. He watches you, as always, with dark eyes, your perfect form, the way your own gaze seems to find his face, even in the dark, even with his obscured figure. It used to make him worry, that you saw through his trick mirror, his ruse, his little game. It doesn't feel like much of a game anymore - this obsession, deep and insidious, that has claimed him as surely as it has you.

The first time he’d heard your voice, it was sweet honey dripping down the side of a cup of yuja tea. You had thought you were alone - perhaps you were. He’s nothing more than a phantom, after all, a ghost stalking the walls and rafters of the theater. It was in those very walls that he’d first spied on you, heard the way you quietly sung to yourself as you brushed your hair. Fixation. Instant fixation. In a decade or so of solitude, you had shimmered like a vigil of hope. Watching you was easy, spending most of his days listening as you quietly lingered in the background, on the edges of the performance group. Your one friend, Yong-sik, was how In-ho learned more about you, your father. Your belief in him, like religion, and your certainty that one day, he would send to you an angel.

You made it too easy.

Whispers that would call to you in your small room, practically a closet, until one night you were drawn from your bed, following them down the halls. Until you came across this very room. One burning candle, and one unlit.

He can still see the confusion that had clouded your expression, but also the hope. As if you already understood what he wanted from you, you’d lit the other candle. Accepting him, offering yourself. That was the first night that he sang for you, taught you one of his songs. And slowly, ever so carefully, he coaxed out your persimmon-sweet voice. Since that night, over a year ago now, he’s coached you, taught you - and you, always his faithful student, were such a quick learner.

Perhaps tonight, In-ho feels nostalgic. The gentle tilt of your face, the perfect fall of your hair… You look the same as the first night, but now, there is only pure trust and adoration in your expression. His perfect muse. “Night and day… you are the one,” he croons in a low voice, carrying each note with a sweet caress. “Only you beneath the moon or under the sun… Whether near to me or far... it's no matter, darling, where you are... I think of you… Night and day....”

Just like that first night, you answer with the response to his call, your sweet voice carrying the next lines. Lighting the second candle, like you always do. “Day and night… Why is it so…. that this longing for you follows wherever I go?” Your eyes close slightly, lost in the words, in the joy of singing. “Hibiscus flowers’ bloom…. In the silence of my lonely room... I think of you… Night and day....”

“Like the persistent drip of raindrops…” He calls.

“When the summer shower is through…” You respond.

And finally, finally, your voices join together, mixing into the most saccharine melody, a perfect match. “So a voice within me keeps repeating you, you, you…” It’s the sweetest euphoria, a delicious drug running through his veins. He watches you, your eyes closed, your expression absolute bliss, and he knows you feel it too, the union of your voices, of your very souls. “Night and day, under the hide of me… There's such a hungry yearning burning inside of me… And its torment won't be through… ‘Till you let me spend my life devoted to you…” Your eyes flutter open, the glaze in them almost pushing him to slide away the mirror and pull you directly into his arms, to see you crumble into him. You’re beautiful, perfect, just like this, looking like you’re enchanted, just from his voice, from feeling it swirl inside you.

“Day and night…”

“Night and day…”

Your voices overlap on the final line, two perfect counterparts, and you take a shuddering gasp as the familiar melody finishes. That song… the very first one he taught you… It feels different, now. You’ve learned so much as his student, but also… you’ve grown so deeply fond of your angel. The sound of the music you make together is nothing short of rapturous. A dreamy smile spreads across your lips, and you blink, wishing, yearning for more, always more.

“Don’t go, my angel,” you say, before you can stop yourself. “Forgive me, I-I speak out of turn, I ask too much of you, but…” But it’s a lonely existence, in this theater. More so, you’ve been lonely ever since your father passed. Though you grew up without a mother, your father had loved you enough to fill both parental roles - your childhood had been filled with laughter and light, singing and music.

You lost the music, for years. But now, your angel, sent by your father himself, has brought it all back, by candlelight and the beams of the moon. You’d forgo every single break of dawn if it meant the loneliness would end, to fill your life with that harmony that only he brings you.

A soft sound, almost a sigh - or maybe the wind outside, tricking your ears, for surely angels don’t sigh? “Soon, my perfection,” he murmurs, his words sending a shudder through you. “Our union is near, sweet [Y/N]... just know, I am always by your side, always with you…”

It sounds like a promise, like everything you've ever wanted. So why does a chill run down your spine?

》﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ⊹* 。 • 。* ☾☼☽ * 。° 。* ⊹ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ₊ ˚﹒ 《

A/N: sooo... i went a little insane planning this story out. aka, a lot of research on the aftermath of wwii on korea/south korea, and when western opera was introduced. placing it in paris didn't quite make sense, and i'm going to be taking a lot of creative liberties when it comes to the opera(s?) performed and the history of this particular theater, even though most of it will be background details that aren't even particularly necessary. i wanted to put out a prologue to introduce the story a bit... still deciding some things (like, will i have in-ho be wearing the mask to hide a disfigurement, or will it be more like sg s2, where he's secluded himself due to the death of the only person he cared about, and introduces himself as young-il at some point? decisions, decisions). hope you guys are down to join me on this journey lol, i promise i'll still be posting other stories that are much simpler in concept. also yes, the song they're singing is a slightly altered frank sinatra song... it felt very thematically fitting.

taglist: @pursued-by-the-squid, @bloooooopblopblop, @in-hos-wife

[salty-an-disco]

whatever. go, my pixies

[monster-blood69]

KLANCE TINKERBELL AU

[lara-cairncross]

Mmmm u could draw some Donnie ans Leo interactions for the fairy au? Maybe Leo giving Donnie a flying lesson once he gets his brace?

Love your art!!

back when their relationship was still good lmao

[reddish-ash]

Borrower AU and First meeting

Amy, both in canon and in au, has touch as one of her love languages, so she often squeezes and hugs Piglet (it's good that she's tactile). And when she gets to know William better, she often can't help but pet him when he's within reach.

William, who is not used to most types of affection, was initially very embarrassed and puzzled, but later realized the beauty of hugs and tactileness

[pixiefeatherkw3]

My favorite idea is that characters like Dream, Epic, Swap and Lust (also Color, but that is more obvious considering canon) will totally and completely be ruthless if the right buttons or circumstances are present.

They are scary in their own way, like an actual problem, something or someone really did something wrong for that to happen.

It can be kind of cathartic when you have them like that, me thinks