avirjin: (Default)
 This is my reward for Kai winning the EM Hunger Games competition lol. It's too late to post anything on meme, and I've already shown too many people so they'd know it was me even if I did it, but I still had fun for the most part. :3 I gave up on the clothes though lol too hard. The pose is mainly from Kingdom Hearts, but nothing was traced n__n 

Anyway, belated congratulations, Team Panini!!! \o/ 
avirjin: (Default)
Title: Joyride
Fandom: Exo
Focus: Xiumin-centric
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Length: Oneshot, 1182 words
Summary: It doesn't count as cheating if everyone uses their superpowers during a round of go-karting.




There aren't many go-kart tracks in Korea, but there's one near Minseok's hometown that he used to take his sister to a lot. They'd spend hours racing each other in circles, and on the few occasions when it rained, attempting to drift on the wet track and only really splattering mud all over themselves. He could have won every race, to be honest, but the look on his sister's face whenever he let her win had always been enough, and in the end it was all about having fun with each other.

That laidback joyride was nothing compared to this.

Even three laps into the race, Minseok's not sure what they're doing at an out-of-the-way theme park. He sees Lu Han moving crates and bushes and even Kyungsoo and his tiny go-kart onto the track with a wiggle of his fingers, but before Yifan manages to collide with any of them, his kart floats ascends into the air and flies past Kyungsoo's head by a mere meter before touching down on the track on the other side. Junmyeon has one hand on the wheel, and the other hand stretched out as he hoses most of the obstacles out of the way, while Chanyeol simply burns any foliage Lu Han attempts to block him with.

"That's cheating!" he hears someone yell in the distance, although the sound is so muffled by the roaring of their engines, he can't be sure who it actually is.

"It's not if we all use our powers," Lu Han yells happily as he lifts Yixing's go-kart out of his way and only sets him down facing the opposite direction so his friend goes racing off the wrong way. It's only because Zitao has full control over his time manipulation that they avoid yet another collision, with Zitao freezing Yixing's kart in its place and easily steering past him.

Somewhere in the back, there's the crackling sound of lightning and Minseok wonders who Jongdae is smiting this time in a sorry attempt to improve his ranking from tenth place. His own go-kart, a light blue rental that runs quite smoothly, already has a charred paint job from when Jongdae had targeted him, so he already feels sorry for Jongdae's next victim.

That was one difference from how he used to race with his sister -- he had never been free to use his powers. Not that he would want to. Freezing a patch of the track just to beat her would have been in terrible form and she could have gotten hurt, after all.

He feels a lot less guilty about sending someone like Jongin off-track when Jongin can simply just teleport his kart back into a proper position, looking no worse for wear aside from a few ruffled feathers and a grumpy expression.

Still, years of habit keep him from using his powers too often. Lu Han has been using his telekinesis mercilessly since the twelve of them set off from the starting line and even Sehun has been active enough to send a few tiny tornadoes after whoever bumped into his kart in a misguided attempt to speed past him. Minseok knows he could be capable of more if not just as much -- he could literally encase the others in ice, leaving them frozen on the track until someone like Chanyeol came along and melted them down with his flame-throwing and fire-breathing.

But the freedom of knowing he's allowed to use his powers so recklessly is enough.

It's rare that the twelve of them get to play like this -- usually they're cooped up in a training facility, attempting to find new ways to use their powers for the Greater Good. Minseok gets to read reports on the polar ice caps and how imperative it is that he and other ice manipulators train to the point where they can keep them from melting too rapidly while he listens to Junmyeon receive lessons on flooding control in the training room besides his.

All very important stuff, he's sure. Just not particularly interesting after the first few years of it.

But then that morning, Baekhyun had bent light away from them and kept them invisible from the facility's security cameras for as long as it took to get to Yifan's getaway van.

"We're in need of a much needed vacation, don't you think?" he had asked from his triumphant place in the passenger seat, the others having been too excited at the thought of their little excursion to bother calling shotgun.

Between Baekhyun's light manipulation, Yifan's flight, and Lu Han's telekinesis, they had easily slipped away from the high-wire gates and security guards. Although at least Junmyeon had left a kindly worded note implying they'd be back soon, with Chanyeol adding a passive-aggressive smiley emoticon with far too many teeth.

Neither had specified what soon meant though. Having a time manipulator as a friend made one's own perception of time a little flimsy, after all.

"Minseok! Watch out!"

Minseok blinks, and finally notices the giant crater on the track in front of him -- one of the remnants of Kyungsoo's counterattack against Baekhyun after his friend had blinded them all for an excruciatingly long second and jumped ahead five places. He fills it up with ice and glides smoothly over it, laughing as he does so and watching as Zitao, who had somehow ended up behind him, goes crashing into the side-railing of the track instead while trying to swerve away from the slippery patch-job.

Somewhere in front of them, Lu Han is crowing loudly -- as he should, seeing as he's the first to cross the finish line after five laps. First place in superpowered go-kart racing is no simple feat when you had someone like Junmyeon shooting water in everyone's faces as they attempted to drive.

The last lap for Minseok is a lot more hectic than he expects. The fourth lap had been spent cruising relatively peacefully as he watched others battle it out in front of him, only icing up the others' wheels when he felt like it. It's probably that attitude that lands him so far behind the others; Yifan ends up flying the rest of the way to the finish line while Yixing finally pulls up a bubble of invulnerability around himself so he can chase after Yifan without having to worry about being attacked by the others.

But even though Minseok finishes in last place -- Jongdae had managed yet another lightning strike on him at the same time that Sehun had sent a whirlwind, the combination of which had sent his kart spiraling out of control, while Jongin had ended up teleporting to the end so he'd finish just ahead of Minseok without abusing his powers -- he feels exactly the same as if he had been years younger, racing his sister again in the little race-track near their neighborhood.

Racing with her, racing with the others -- it's not so different after all, he thinks as he rides past the checkered finish line with a smile on his face.






Original Post: Here.
Author's Note: AU where Exo have superpowers and are being trained. And end up bored out of their minds and escaping on a road trip together. In retrospect, there should be more back-story, but in the end the important point was that Xiumin was relishing in the feeling of freedom and having fun, both in his past and his present.

This was the piece I wanted to draw fanart for, in the Sugar Rush style. That didn't work out, unfortunately. This was actually a really quick job. But I'm not dissatisfied. I had a message and I said it. I probably shouldn't have written Xiumin as losing though, since he ended up being eliminated in the round this was written for lol. 

Unrelated, but as of this, I've written 10.9k for the EM Hunger Games. It's quite a feat for me, I'm very proud of myself. Good job, me, lol. I look forward to a new competition, but not for a while. I'm so tired, and I haven't been able to keep up since Xiumin was eliminated lol. Even before that actually?

avirjin: (Default)
Title: Prices
Fandom: Exo
Focus: Suho-centric, slight Suho/Kai
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13
Length: Oneshot, 2623 words
Summary: As far as Junmyeon knows, there's no price too great for him to pay when it comes to his friends. Junmyeon doesn't know very much. Fullmetal Alchemist (2003 ver) AU.
Warning: Highlight to read. Non-explicit character death, as per the AU.





Water, 35 liters. Carbon, 20 kilograms. Ammonia, 4 liters. Lime, 1.5 kilograms. Phosphorus, 800 grams. Salt, 250 grams. Saltpeter, 100 grams. Sulfur, 80 grams. Fluorine, 7.5 grams. Iron, 5 grams. Silicon, 3 grams. And trace amounts of fifteen other elements.

Junmyeon is certain that while those are the correct measurements of the elements required to make an average adult human body. He's also certain that Oh Sehun was composed of both more and less than a such a cheap shopping list.

"But how do we account for his soul?" Jongin asks during their trip to Central. He trails behind Junmyeon, his steps slow and sluggish as he waits for Junmyeon to appraise yet another vial of saltpeter. They've spent the past few weeks visiting the finest apothecaries the nation could offer, window-shopping for the best ingredients money could buy. Only the richest -- and, of course, the State Military -- could afford such exorbiant prices, but for Junmyeon it might as well have been pocket change.

Like Sehun would have accepted being recomposed of sub-par materials simply bought from a local market.

One thing that Junmyeon's vast fortune couldn't buy though was the one thing Jongin had always been most concerned with, always bringing it up in their conversations ever since Junmyeon had finally let him in on the plan he'd spent the past seven years researching and preparing for. The human soul had always been a tricky thing to work around, but surely Junmyeon could figure something out now that he had Jongin on his side.

"Maybe if the two of us put a little more energy into the transmutation," he answers softly, but with very little confidence. He holds the vial of saltpeter closer to his eyes, examining it once more before setting it back on the shelf with a frown. With so many impurities, there's no way it'd hold up in an actual human transmutation. "Although I should still probably provide the bulk of it."

It's only right after all. It's Junmyeon's responsibility, Junmyeon's fault.

He reaches out to take Jongin's hand, already ready to head back over to the store's supply of lime, but Jongin manages to slip right out of his grasp and walk over to the display himself. Nineteen year old Jongin is a lot different from twelve year old Jongin, but at least that much hasn't changed.

"This looks good," Jongin comments, leaning over the display with his back facing Junmyeon. He's grown so tall, his shoulders so broad and muscled. Junmyeon wonders if Sehun would have grown up the same way, sprouting up like a particularly handsome sunflower. Always looking away from Junmyeon. "I think you should buy it."

And Junmyeon listens without even looking at the cost of the lime, eagerly pulling out his wallet and walking over to the clerk on his own. It's a small price to pay, comparatively.



Junmyeon's family owns an estate out in Resembool, one of the few properties to survive the town's bombing by Ishvalan terrorists in retribution for the civil war. That had been years ago, when Junmyeon had been a child and safely spirited away to Central for the time being. Despite the fact that his father had landed a solid position teaching at the capitol's top medical school and his much older brother had found himself a place in the Amestrian military academy, Junmyeon and his mother had returned to the family home once the conflict had ended.

That had been when he met Zitao, Jongin, and Sehun.

In spite of their age difference, Junmyeon thought of them as his friends. Maybe Zitao felt the same way, but Jongin and Sehun had always insisted on referring to him as their glorified babysitter. It wasn't too much of a stretch -- Junmyeon was the one to pick them all up from their houses in the morning and walk with them to the town's school-house, and a majority of his early adolescent years had been spent happily keeping an eye on them for their parents.

"Don't you ever get tired of this?" Jongin asked as he laid in the grass a healthy distance away from where Junmyeon was stretched out. Zitao and Sehun had been rolling around on the ground closer to the river and attempting to toss each other into the water, although Sehun's strategy seemed to involve more slumping on top of Zitao's body like a heavy rock than any actual force. "You're so old, and you're still hanging out with us kids."

"That's because I like you kids." Which was true. Junmyeon probably liked the three of them most out of all the people in his life.

And as he sat on one of Resembool's grassy banks, listening to Zitao and Sehun's playful yelps echo through the air and watching Jongin's hair ruffle in the summer breeze, he realized he'd do anything for them.

The year Junmyeon turns fifteen, Sehun collapses with very little warning in Junmyeon's house. So little warning that by the time Junmyeon finishes frantically telephoning his father in Central for medical advice -- because surely, surely, one of the top doctors in the country could easily fix this -- Sehun's been pronounced dead by the town's doctor for reasons Junmyeon still doesn't quite understand.

Everything about it is painfully short and frighteningly quick, passing through at whirlwind speeds before Junmyeon can even begin to understand anything.

By the end of the week, he's already watching Sehun's coffin close for the last time. Zitao is crying into his shoulder, his tears soaking through the brand new suit Junmyeon's mother had ordered just for the occasion. For the first time in a long while, Jongin is holding his hand of his own free will. It's smaller and less warm than Junmyeon had expected.

Junmyeon sleeps over at Jongin's in the weeks after, his own house haunted by all the memories of Sehun lounging around the house while petulantly asking for things, as well as the few times Junmyeon had refused him. Regret lingers in every corner, and every time he closes his eyes, he sees Sehun's face and finds himself wondering what he did wrong that day.

"You didn't do anything," Jongin says quietly each night, his voice steady and almost reassuring. He never reaches for Junmyeon's hand again though, and in the darkness of the room, Jongin's eyes accuse him instead.

He's right -- Junmyeon didn't do anything. He didn't do anything when Sehun had collapsed, when Sehun had laid there on the ground as his life slipped away.

"I'll figure something out," Junmyeon promises, more to himself than to Jongin or even Sehun. His fists tighten in the blankets, and he hears Jongin sigh before they drift off to sleep.



Alchemy.

That's the solution, or looks to be it anyway. Junmyeon finds out about it when a young man clad in the same blue military uniform as his brother comes into the town, flashing a silver pocketwatch at anyone who asked.

"Alchemy can be used to fix anything," the soldier had said, sitting in Sehun's chair as Junmyeon's mother fetched him a glass of tea, "for a price."

Junmyeon knows all about prices, even if he's never had to worry about paying for them. Not everything has a price -- if Junmyeon could buy alchemic talent, he would have done so immediately instead of struggling with the simplest of transmutation circles and chemical break-downs for so long -- but there are a lot of things Junmyeon can buy. Rare and expensive alchemy texts and the time and patience of the best alchemists willing to tutor him.

"Fifteen's a little old to start learning," one of them notes, looking over his glasses at Junmyeon like he's trying to break him down to his bare elements, "and you're saying you've never even tried before?"

Junmyeon flushes in embarrassment, his hands clenched into tights fists underneath the desk.

"I have motivation now. Determination."

If nothing else, Junmyeon proves that much. Jongin, who takes to coming along to Junmyeon's lessons now that one playmate is six feet under and the other has thrown himself head-first into his family's automail business, takes to the lessons much more quickly, already advancing well past Junmyeon by the end of their first year, but Junmyeon keeps at it.

"It feels good," Jongin says as he presses his hands to a transmutation circle drawn in the dirt. Blue light flares from the circle, and from the ground arises a life-size puppy chiseled out of rock. It looks suspiciously like one of his own dogs. "Having something to do with my hands. No wonder Zitao decided to take up automail. It's nice not feeling useless."

"Idle hands," Junmyeon replies as he, too, draws the now familiar alchemic runes into the soft earth. He tries for a different transmutation and winds up with a rough, rock goblet filled with water drawn up from the soil. Not too shabby.

While Junmyeon doesn't improve by the leaps and bounds Jongin does, he progresses at a steady rate. By the end of his sixth year of study, he's certain that he's almost ready, and on the sixth anniversary of Sehun's death, he gathers Jongin and Zitao and lets them in on his plan.

"Didn't you tell me human transmutation is illegal?" Zitao asks, now staring at Junmyeon with suspicion. He's nineteen and towers over Junmyeon now, and his disapproval is intimidating. Jongin, who is almost as tall and grown, stares at him with the same intensity.

Junmyeon bites his lip. "But it's Sehun." He knows his voice is heavy with desperation, but for good reason. With each year he struggles with alchemy, more of his memories of Sehun fade with time. How long until he forgets the sound of his awkward laugh, or the way his eyes narrowed whenever he grinned? Junmyeon doesn't think he can afford to wait any longer.

"Fuck, hyung. Was that the whole reason behind this?"

Jongin looks almost disappointed in him. Junmyeon can't even look at him when he silently nods.

He hears Jongin tell Zitao to leave, something about how they had to talk about this alchemist-to-alchemist, and as the front door closes, he braces himself. He tries to tell himself that nothing Jongin says to him can shake his resolve now, not after years of working up to this point -- but Jongin's previous words echo in his ears, speaking of nothing and uselessness.

Jongin will always hold power over Junmyeon, the same way Sehun still does from beyond the grave.

"You think you already know everything you need?" Jongin asks from the door, and Junmyeon can hear him slowly walking back over.

Junmyeon nods again, for some reason too nervous to open his mouth. His throat feels so dry.

He hears Jongin sigh again, just like that night so many years ago, and even with his eyes closed he can see the shadow Jongin casts as he stands over him.

"I wish you'd told me when we started this," Jongin mutters, and Junmyeon looks up in shock, "You know I want him back just as much as you do." He almost reaches out for Junmyeon's hand again, but stops himself just in time. "Let's do this, hyung."



They set up their purchases in Junmyeon's basement.

His mother has long left the Resembool estate, beckoned back to Central's bright lights and socialite circles, and with his brother still in the military, the running of the estate falls on Junmyeon's weak shoulders. He's a lenient master though, and when he tells the few servants he keeps around that they have the week off, no one is surprised.

"No disturbances," he promises Jongin as he lets him in through the front door, "just you and me."

Jongin just brushes past him, complaining of the summer heat.

It's cooler in the basement, where they spend hours drawing out the transmutation circle the two of them had worked to develop. Junmyeon had done most of the planning, combining various other circles he'd come across in his studies until he felt he had developed the perfect one, while Jongin was in charge of making sure the actual construction of the circle on the basement's hardwood flooring was perfect. It's almost midnight by the time they finish, chalk dust all over their hands and their nerves racing.

"Remember what I told you," Junmyeon says as he wipes his hands on his pants, "don't put in too much energy. Let me handle it, I just need you to help me visualize Sehun and direct the transmutation."

Jongin is silent, and Junmyeon's almost certain he'll argue back. He's gotten more contrary over the years, although he has been following Junmyeon's lead for the past year.

"Are you sure this will work, hyung?" Jongin finally asks. His voice is so small.

Of course Junmyeon isn't absolutely sure this will work out. He's tried to calculate all possible rebounds and problems, but human transmutation is illegal for a reason and it's not like there's very much research available about it to anyone who isn't a State Alchemist.

But that doesn't mean he can't try.

"Not at all," he says honestly. "So this is your last chance to back out, Jongin."

A part of him hopes Jongin will take it, that Jongin will walk out of his house and take up a proper profession like Zitao has. Use that to cope with the death of his best friend, a wound that was never allowed to properly heal as long as Junmyeon kept promising hope he couldn't even guarantee.

But there's another part of Junmyeon that knows he can't do this alone. Jongin probably knows it too.

"I'm not a kid anymore, hyung," and Junmyeon knows that already. "I can handle this, too. Probably better than you can."

Junmyeon chuckles bitterly, because that's probably true.

Only it's not. As the room flares in dark purple light, both of their hands positioned firmly on the transmutation circle, Junmyeon realizes just how wrong the two of them were. He hears Jongin's scream amidst the crackling of the sparks in the room and realizes that neither of them were ready for this.



Junmyeon wakes up to a blinding white. There's no end in sight, and when he sits up, all he can see is a giant stone door hovering a few meters away from him with the impressive engraving of a tree of it.

So you're awake.

He turns around to find a white silhouette, whose outline is surrounded by an aura of black particles. It's seated quite casually on whatever counts as the floor for this place.

"Who are you? Where's Jongin?" he asks it, feeling dazed. His head hurts, and his memory up until that moment is a bit of a blur.

The silhouette shrugs its shoulders at him. I am what you call the world. Or perhaps the universe, or perhaps god, or perhaps truth, or perhaps all, or perhaps one. And I am also you. It doesn't make much sense, if anything it makes Junmyeon's head spin even more.

And then he hears the doors behind him creak open.

Welcome, you fool, who doesn't know his own place.

The last thing Junmyeon sees are those razor sharp teeth pulled back into a wicked smile as the tangle of shadowy limbs tear into his body and drag him through the door. The silhouette's lips move one last time before he finds himself in complete darkness, centuries of knowledge being shoved into his mind until he feels like his head is going to burst, but even as he fights to block out the pain, its last words echo mockingly in his ears.

Seven years of hard work, good job, Junmyeon.






Original Post: Here.
Author's Note: This one required SO MUCH EDITING omg orz. I honestly didn't know where I was going to end up when I wrote it, I literally started it just for the punchline. I just sat in the shower one night, thinking about an anime AU and who in Exo would pull human transmutation and I thought that the "
seven years of hard work gj suho" joke from EM over his fake-crying was a perfect fit. orz and then somehow backstory came up? But it didn't match my first section at first, hence the editing.

Anyway. So. If we go by the 2003 version of FMA, Suho would have lost a few limbs, Kai would have lost his body, and Sehun would have become Sloth, except maybe with power over wind rather than water? Anyway I'm not writing that far so... Ahem. Actually, Suho probably would have lost both legs at the kneecap and below, given his knee injuries irl. The important thing was that there was a difference between this and the actual FMA canon. They still grow up in Resembool together, but I wanted there to be a different feeling. Suho has the confidence and drive and desperation to try human transmutation, but he's so certain he's useless and interprets everything and everyone around him as accusing him of such.

I'm not sure what I wanted his feelings towards Sehun to be. Towards Tao, Kai, and Sehun, he probably felt like their protector when they were kids. And with how Sehun abruptly died, he felt like he failed them and that failure lingered with him. Suho always feels intimidated by Kai though, but I wanted there to be this slight... I wanted the feelings to come from Kai's side first. He's the one who feels uncomfortable initiating with Suho, the one tries to comfort Suho and get him to move on, the one who feels the heat first. But then when you look at the ambiguity of Suho's feelings about Sehun, that's one of the reasons Kai doesn't do anything. A dead boy still holds so much power of Suho, but what Kai doesn't realize is that he holds just as much if not more. 

As for Sehun's death... I didn't get to graphic. Not just because I wasn't sure how to have him die other than mysteriously, but because I'm more cautious about how I write death now ever since I found out how much Boss dislikes deathfics. For me, death is a fascinating subject, but I can see where it could be upsetting for others so I steered clear for the most part.


And poor Tao got the short end of the stick. He gets Winry's role, but without the romance. If this was longer, he would have been their support system, because he loves very much and very easily and that's what both Suho and Kai needed. The main reason he became the automail mechanic was because I liked the idea of all of those piercings on him and him working with metal, it's just unfortunate it took him out of that action.

As for the technical stuff. The measurements are lifted from FMA. I couldn't find a way to convert them to a preteen Korean male body :( Because that's the age they probably would have brought Sehun back as? Truth's dialogue also comes from the show's subs. Honestly, the whole story was supposed to be heavy-handed so that there would be a greater, comedic contrast to the "7 years" punchline, but it got too heavy? And I got too attached.

avirjin: (Default)
Title: Rich in Pokedollars, Poor in Sense
Fandom: Exo
Focus: Suho-centric
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Length: Oneshot, 1069 words
Summary: Pokedollars might not be able to buy a trainer victory, strength, or friendship, but there's no denying that they can buy the highest quality Luxury Balls money can buy, and that's close enough.




Junmyeon gets off to a late start in terms of the whole "starting a Pokemon adventure!" thing. He's already sixteen when the standard age for setting off into the unknown is ten, and he's spent half of his life cooped up in expensive training facilities and cram schools practicing with school-issued Pokemon instead of venturing into the tall grasses surrounding his city and catching wild Pokemon like a real trainer.

Finally, finally though, his teachers and his parents tell him he's ready. He can identify all of the known species of Pokemon in his region by heart and knows the statistics behind every type advantage and disadvantage like they've been printed on the back of his eyelids. Once he has his own team gathered and trained, he's allowed to actually forgo the gym badge challenge and just come back to his school for a final certification match, and then it's off to Victory Road for him, which is great. Which should be great.

But it doesn't feel like it.

A lot of the trainers that pass through Junmyeon's city, toting both naturally captured Pokemon and hard-earned badges and endless stories about their adventures. The stuff he used to read about during the early days when his parents first enrolled him into his cram school. It'd be a lie to say he wasn't envious of their experiences.

At least now it's his turn.

The morning he's scheduled to leave, he's preparing to go to the cram school one last time to pick out his starter -- probably a Totodile, he's always been fond of water types -- when his brother pulls him aside and hands him a bulky express package. It's stamped with the picture of a Delibird, the words "FIRST CLASS" written around the Pokemon's face. It had probably been delivered just the night before, based on the fact that his brother hadn't had a chance to wrap it in flashier packaging.

"Just a little something to help you out," his brother tells him, winking as he does so. Junmyeon doesn't properly open the package until he's already left the house, his parents no longer hovering over his shoulder like he's grown used to.

He wonders what his brother got him. Maybe a Mahogany Town rage candy bar? Or a pack of lava cookies flown in from Lavaridge? What if his brother actually bought him some rare candies? Junmyeon desperately hopes not.

What he finds in the package instead are more tiny Luxury Balls than he can possibly count, their glossy black shells shining in the morning sun.

Luxury Balls. Products of the Devon Corporation from all the way in Hoenn. Extremely expensive and rare and designed to raise the affinity between a trainer and his Pokemon at a rate faster than his own region's Friend Ball.

Friendship. Having a Pokemon as a friend. His own Pokemon.

Junmyeon can't help the giant grin that spreads over his face.

At the very back of the package, there's one Luxury Ball that sticks out, sparkling in a way that the others aren't. He reaches in, grasping it tightly with the special grip gloves his parents had ordered for him the week before and pulling it out.

He can't believe it -- there are diamonds laden in the surface of the ball. Real life diamonds, like the ones on his mother's jewelry. He spends several minutes standing stock-still, gaping at it in surprise.

"SNUB."

Junmyeon almost drops the diamond-encrusted Luxury Ball in surprise, even with his special gloves, and looks around nervously. He's heard about muggings before. He hopes it doesn't get a first-hand experience.

"Snub Snub. Bull."

Finally, he looks down and sees a pink, dog-like Pokemon staring up at him, with intimidating ceiling eyes of all things, and frowning as it barks at him.

"Snubbull Bull Snub!" it says, almost sounding like it's whining.

"Snubbull," Junmyeon says to himself as the Pokemon starts lazily stretching its arms out towards him, "the Fairy Pokemon." Not too rare in the grand scheme of things, but a favorite for higher society women. He doesn't know how many Snubbulls have tried to bite his finger when he attempted to innocently pet them at his parents' parties.

"What do you want, little..." he takes a second to peek at it inconspicuously, "guy! I don't have any berries on me yet and I don't think you'd appreciate my lunch?"

"Snubbull." The Pokemon stares up at Junmyeon like he's stupid, which he can't say he doesn't agree with.

That's when he notices how the Snubbull's eyes are glued to his hand -- or more specifically, the Luxury Ball in his hand. To test his theory, Junmyeon moves it back and forth in front of him in hypnotic circles and watches as the Snubbull's eyes follow, even if it seems too lazy to even bother moving its head.

"So you want this," he muses.

As gently as he can, he crouches down and sets the Luxury Ball on the ground between them. It was a nice present, but Junmyeon doesn't know if he feels comfortable enough to be carrying around something like that while he's still defenseless. Might as well let the Snubbull have it.

But the Snubbull does the most curious thing: he gets on all fours and walks over to the Luxury Ball, his large black nose nudging at it before actually pressing the opening mechanism.

"Wait-- what are you--!?"

A beam of red light flares out from the ball, and Junmyeon jumps in surprise as the Snubbull is converted into energy and enters the ball as it he has always belonged in there. The ball wiggles once, twice, and a final time with very little force before it comes to a rest and glows a familiar red.

Junmyeon's Pokedex beeps at him from his pocket.

"Would you like to give your Pokemon a nickname?" the electronic voice asks him, and that's when it sinks in.

Your Pokemon.

His Pokemon.

Junmyeon's first Pokemon.

It's not how he imagined his first capture going, but Junmyeon still feels a warmth flooding through his body at the thought of having his own Pokemon. He clutches the ball close to his heart.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I'll call him Sehun."

The Luxury Ball weakly wiggles in his hand, as if Sehun is acknowledging him, and Junmyeon thinks this is something no cram school could have ever simulated for him.
 




 
Original Post: Here.
Author's Note: Another piece that I started on the HG AU worldoftext. Sehun only wants Suho for his Luxury Ball. Heehee, it's a play off of the Gangnam Oppar/Youngmoney jokes on EM. And Snubbull does have ceiling eyes just like Sehun does! lol The idea of the Pokemon cram schools come from the Kanto series where the gang visited Pokemon Tech, only in this case, Suho lives in Johto. That's the extent of my Pokemon knowledge, sadly. The school's not run the same way, I think in the show they still had their own Pokemon, but they just used computer simulators to train? I'm not sure, my memory is awfully foggy. :( But either way, it's no way for a Pokemon Trainer to live.
avirjin: (Default)
Title: Study Break
Fandom: Exo
Focus: Xiumin-centric
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Length: Oneshot, 1797 words
Summary: A bunch of third years set someone on fire, but it's not like Minseok's in a position to actually do much about it. Harry Potter!AU set in this verse.




It's less than two months into Minseok's fifth year and he's already spent more time studying in the library than he has in the past four years combined. It's not an entirely miserable experience seeing as his O.W.L.s are still a good eight months away and the pressure hasn't built up to a soul-crushing intensity quite yet, but there's no denying that the seemingly endless hours of self-study would have been far more enjoyable if his friends hadn't proven themselves exemplary enough to be chosen as the prefects and Quidditch captains of their year and were thus stuck patrolling the halls, supervising detentions, or devising game plans for winning the Quidditch Cup.

It's not like he doesn't see them -- Yifan and Junmyeon, who's as busy with Quidditch as the others were with prefect duties, room with him and he still sees all three of them in most of his classes, of course. But it's oddly quiet in the library without Lu Han guffawing ridiculously at one of Yifan's unintentional body gags or the Picasso-esque doodles etched on his parchments during one of their earlier classes.

Two months into his fifth year, and Minseok already misses his best friends.

"Maybe I should practice my cheering charms," he mutters, twirling his wand between his fingers. Even the warm sparks coming off the tip of it -- blue and white and snowflake-shaped just like the ones he'd seen the first time he had waved it around at Ollivanders -- don't feel quite as bright as usual.

His eyes start wandering from the spellbooks laid out in front of him, focusing instead on how far the sparks from his wand will land. It's a nice, mindless distraction and a relief from his intense study session. But as he watches one particularly active spark fly out of the nook in his corner of the library, he suddenly notices a flash of red and orange in-between a couple of the other aisles.

When he looks more carefully, he realizes that there's a person on fire.

There's smoke rising from the student's flashy red and gold Quidditch robes and his arms are flailing ridiculously and all Minseok can do for those first few moments is watch in horror because what the hell, there's no way immolation of any kind is permitted in the library and why is that kid on fire, for the love of Merlin.

He finally notices the three other boys sitting further beyond the flaming Gryffindor, all seated at a table with their bags scattered around them. They looked to be more concerned with whatever they were discussing than the lightshow going right in front of them.

"How appropriate," he thinks with very little malice when he sees the alternating green and silver of their loosened ties.

Minseok gets up from his seat, his chair screeching across the stone floor as he pushes it back, and marches over to the four with his wand out.

"Glacius!"

He points directly at the boy engulfed in flames, and if the sparks from his wand had looked like snowflakes before, they're nothing compared to the outright blizzard that erupts the second he finishes the incantation. The four students barely have enough time to look over before their faces are blasted with ice, but in the split-second he sees their faces, Minseok realizes he knows these brats.

"Park Chanyeol," he says, crossing his arms over his chest as Lu Han's infamous beater pouts at him, icicles hanging from his large ears like a pair of Yifan's dragon-tooth earrings. "Shouldn't you be on the pitch right now with Lu Han?"

At least Chanyeol has the decency to look a little sheepish, which is a surprise given how often Minseok hears about his impertinence and how he has even personally witnessed the way Chanyeol flies in circles around the Quidditch pitch, crowing shamelessly after breaking another player's bones.

As for his three friends...

"Jongdae. Kyungsoo." Out of the four, they're the two he's most familiar with. Jongdae had spent the majority of his first two years at Hogwarts attempting to win over Peeves's favor, and several of those attempts had resulted in Minseok covered in too many different concoctions for him to even remember. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, tended to linger around the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room in search of the hidden kitchens. They may have been a bit more mischievous than the average third year, but they had seemed like good enough kids. For Slytherins. Still not the type he would have picked out as most likely to casually set one of their yearmates on fire, even if the Gryffindor-Slytherin house rivalry was taken into account.

But maybe he should rethink that, because before he knows it, all three Slytherins are laughing.

"You've got us wrong, hyung!" Jongdae insists, although with that trickster's smile, Minseok isn't very inclined to believe him. He settles for raising a single eyebrow and awaiting a further explanation.

Jongdae looks over at the other two for help, but when they don't pipe up, he keeps going on his own. "It's just--"

"Third years are learning about witch burnings," Kyungsoo finally supplies, staring blankly at Minseok like that should suffice.

And maybe it does. If Minseok thinks hard enough, he can kinda remember writing his own ridiculously lengthy essay on the subject when he was their age. He definitely remembers Lu Han spending their first day back begging him for help on the subject. But still.

"So you thought you needed a living example?" he asks skeptically, watching all four of their heads bobble like one of his little sister's toys back at home. "Really. Have you guys even been taught the flame freezing charm yet? And why Chanyeol?"

All three Slytherins look at each other before shrugging at him.

"We've set him on fire probably ten times in the last hour," Baekhyun sniffs, "Chanyeol likes how it tickles, for whatever reason. Probably makes those fairy ears tingle."

"Probably makes his dick tingle," Jongdae adds, not even bothering to muffle his laughter in spite of the fact that they're in the library and Madam Pince is most definitely not deaf.

Chanyeol reaches over, dripping water all over the place in an attempt to shove Jongdae out of his seat, and Minseok catches Kyungsoo's foot knocking into the leg of Jongdae's chair hard enough to force him to tip over. Jongdae probably didn't though, now sprawled out on the ground with a sour expression on his face as his robes soak up all the melted ice left behind by Minseok's spell.

Even Minseok can't hold back his chuckles.

"Seriously, you four are the worst third years I've ever met."

One of them snorts, although Minseok's not sure which one. "Please, we've heard all about your exploits with Lu Han when you were third years," Baekhyun laughs, leaning over the table so he's just that much closer to Minseok. It'd be more intimidating if he was a larger Slytherin, but Baekhyun is still small even for a third year and Minseok doesn't anticipate him growing much taller over the years. "You might not have set Yifan on fire, but you can't say you've never done worse."

"Surrendering Yifan as a test subject for the Weasley twins was a move done for the good of the Hufflepuff house," Minseok says, trying to sound stern even as the corner of his lip tilts up at the memory of Yifan's helpless expression as the Weasleys had carted him away to their shop in the one of the many disused bathrooms in the castle. "If we didn't choose a representative, we'd all be subject to their pranks."

"Excuses, excuses," Jongdae mutters as he wrings the water out of his robes miserably. Minseok had forgotten that students didn't learn the Hot-Air Charm until the end of their fourth year, and in light of that, helpfully dries him off with a swish of his wand. Jongdae smiles thankfully at him, and Minseok beams back.

"Seriously though, you could have set one of the books here on fire," he continues, "and how in Merlin's name did you not wind up catching Madam Pince's attention? I would have thought she'd be on you like a threstral on raw meat."

Chanyeol laughs and slaps a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulders. "Kyungsoo's been messing around with a few repelling charms his brother taught him over the summer. Pince probably doesn't even know we're here!"

"It's supposed to repel authority figures like teachers and prefects," Kyungsoo says quietly, "but I guess you wouldn't count. Yifan's the Hufflepuff prefect and you're in no position to take away points."

Minseok can't even bother feeling offended at his bluntness because more than anything, he's still too busy marveling over Kyungsoo's spell.

"You're a third year and you're already modifying repelling charms?" he asks, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Baekhyun. "That's pretty impressive. I wasn't looking into protective spells until last year myself and they're really something. Intense stuff."

Kyungsoo looks surprised that that's what captures Minseok's attention, but nods anyway. "Well, my brother's a curse-breaker, so he's told me a few things. Not much though."

"We should talk more another time then." Minseok ignores the looks Baekhyun, Jongdae, and Chanyeol send each other as he keeps talking. "I'd love to hear more about what your brother taught you."

Chanyeol tugs Kyungsoo closer to him and the others and squints suspiciously at Minseok, his eyes going uneven. "You can't just expect our resident charms expert to spill all of our trade secrets to you!" Baekhyun and Jongdae make noises of agreement alongside him while Kyungsoo sits in the middle of them all, rolling his eyes.

Minseok laughs, feeling lighter than he has in a long while. It's nice to see them banding together, even if it makes the absence of his own friends that much more tangible.

"I'll make a deal," he says, leaning over and keeping his voice at a low whisper, "you let me and Kyungsoo go over those protective spells and I'll share the prefect patrol schedule with you after each session."

The four third years all look at each other, as if having a silent conversation with just their eyes, although Chanyeol's face twitches a bit as he tries to convey his own thoughts. Minseok knows they've made their decision when Baekhyun straightens in his seat and nods at the other three.

"Deal," he says, taking Minseok's outstretched hand. There's a dangerous smile on his face -- on all four of their faces, really -- but like Hogwarts has ever suffered too greatly from a group of friends having a bit of fun. Someone has to pick up the slack from his own group of friends, after all.






Original Post: Here.
Author's Note: I actually wrote a lot of the beginning on the worldoftext for HG AU lol. But the ending changed a bit? I was having trouble with the chingu-line vibe :( I'm not particularly good with any of them, sadly. Anyway, this was mainly inspired by the beginning of the third Harry Potter book where he has to write an essay on witch burning. I thought that Chanyeol might be the type to get a kick out of it, what with his MAMA superpower being fire... and who else would oblige him besides his same-age friends? lol Anyway, this is set in my HP verse where Xiumin is aiming to become an architect. That's why he's interested in the protective spells. Also, here, chingu-line would be in the same year as Harry and Xiumin and the others in 90-line would be the same age as the Weasley twins. :3

I'm not gonna lie. A lot of Xiumin's feelings are my own. I've been stressed about MCAT prep and the fact that I've grown so distant from all of my friends... Writing didn't make me feel better, but it did help to distract me from all of that stress and loneliness, the way I have Xiumin feeling a bit comforted by his own distraction. Unlike me, at least Xiumin had something to look forward to -- a passing of the torch in a sense. It doesn't feel as nostalgic because that wasn't my angle, but in retrospect, I can recognize my own feelings bleeding into this...

avirjin: (Default)
Title: The Liondragon
Fandom: Exo
Focus: Tao-centric
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Length: Oneshot, 1994 words
Summary: Cheating's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and always has been, and while Zitao isn't surprised by the fact that his headmaster is intent on discovering what the First Task actually entails, he is surprised at what he finds. Harry Potter!AU set during Book 4, Chapter 19.




"Huang."

Zitao looks up immediately from his assigned reading, surprised to see the headmaster standing at the entrance to his cabin. He immediately scrambles to stand at attention and can't help but feel relieved that he'd been too lazy to change into his sleeping robes early.

"Yes, Professor?"

The headmaster looks at him with an appraising eye, something he rarely does unless he happens to be visiting the school's dueling club while Zitao is up for a spar. Zitao's skin prickles under his dark gaze, but he stays as still as possible, as if he's been petrified.

"You're unusually good with lurking around dark corners and what-not, aren't you?" the headmaster asks, stroking at his goatee. "I'm always getting reports from the faculty about you."

Zitao flushes. To be considered shady at the same institution where one of the darkest wizards of the twentieth century was educated was nothing short of mortifying, but the headmaster simply shakes his head and reaches over for Zitao's shoulder. It's the first time he's ever touched Zitao. Probably the first time he's ever spoken to Zitao.

"Don't worry, son," and that's not really reassuring at all, "we all have our talents." Talent, Zitao thinks, is usually reserved for international golden boys and revered school idols who improve the standing of the school with their mere presence. Not for little Chinese purebloods like him whose parents just thought it was a good idea to ship him to the other side of the continent for schooling. "And such talents must be... utilized."

Not that the way his headmaster says it doesn't make his skin crawl, but it would be nice to be able to help out. Since the three -- no, four -- champions had been chosen, the rest of the student body that had been selected to come along to Hogwarts had simply been milling about looking for things to do in-between the assignments their professors back home had sent them off with. Zitao's been dying for some of the excitement the tournament had promised back in September when it had been announced during the opening feast.

"Would you mind doing a favor? In the name of Durmstrang."

It's not really a question, not when Zitao has years of schooling under his belt that have instilled a sense of duty and loyalty to his school. But still, he smiles, standing straighter than before.

"Yes, Professor Karkaroff," he repeats, all too eagerly.



And that's how Zitao ends up spending his evening lurking around the cabin of Hogwart's intimidatingly large groundskeeper. It's a blessing that Hogwarts isn't quite as cold as Durmstrang, because that just meant he could forgo his thick red school cloak in favor of standard black robes; but he can't help but miss the familiar weight on his shoulders.

He can't afford to get caught though.

He watches from the shadows as the groundskeeper strides over to the Beaubatons carriage, his grizzly hair as messy as ever even though Zitao can see that some effort had gone to sweetening his appearance. It's rather romantic to watch the groundskeeper get flustered around his equally tall lady-friend, the headmistress of Beauxbatons.

Zitao sighs wistfully. Maybe they're going for a romantic stroll around the lake under the moonlight. He should try that sometime.

She asks him something playfully as she latches onto his beefy arm, and it's like one of the magical operas his parents take him to back at home. He almost regrets missing the beginning of their giant romance, even if he has enough trouble deciphering what they're saying even without all of their accents coming into play.

Their steps are so large, Zitao has to dart after them to catch up, all while remaining in the shadows. But from a distance, their silhouettes look very pleasant and almost normal sized if he pretends they're further away than they really are.

But Professor Karkaroff's instructions ring in his ears: Do not let the groundskeeper out of your sight. The First Task almost always involves a magical beast. And so Zitao follows them diligently.

He's grateful they never venture into the forest, which is forbidden for reasons that had not been properly explained to him and his schoolmates, but only stick to walking along the perimeter. It's easier to hide amongst the trees and the couple's voices are so loud that they mask any stray noises Zitao makes.

But eventually, something else drowns out his noises and their voices -- a roar.

Zitao sticks to the forest, but pushes ahead past where the groundskeeper and the headmistress have stopped so he can take a closer look. It sounds like-- But it couldn't be--

He feels the heat before he actually sees them. The dragons.

The dragons are appear to be of the Western sort -- firebreathers with large wings rather than the benevolent rain-bringing, wingless species that decorate his trunk back on the Durmstrang ship. He recognizes half of them, the green one and the black one unknown to him. But one is native to Durmstrang's region, and a species often brought by to showcase to the upper-years as a special treat: the Swedish Short-Snout.

It's the last he's most interested in -- a Liondragon. One of the types that had been transplanted in China and flourished alongside its wingless cousins well enough to earn the name Chinese Fireball.

It's beautiful, with its red scales and its golden spikes and even those bat-like wings. Gorgeous.

Zitao wishes that he could get a little closer, maybe even close enough to catch a glimpse of the flaming pearl that is surely at the underside of it's chin. He's never seen one in person like this, outside of tapestries and moving murals in his family home. But unfortunately there are far too many wizards -- probably the dragon keepers, he thinks enviously -- out and about, shooting stunning spells at the dragons and pulling on their restraints. It's a shame really.

He watches as a lanky red-headed wizard walks over to the groundskeeper and they start conversing, gesturing now and then to the dragons who have already been stunned. Zitao's too far away to hear much, and anyway he's far too focused on observing their dragons.

As the other dragon keepers set down dragon eggs -- real dragon eggs, all of varying shapes and colors -- he has to hold back a moan of longing, only to hear the groundskeeper make a noise in his place.

The headmistress is walking closer to the dragons now, at a distance Zitao can't help but envy. But it's just his luck that the Liondragon, whose fire-breathing range is probably the shortest after centuries of cohabitation alongside water-bringers, is closest to the forest's edge due to being the least likely to start a fire.

Zitao watches as the dragon keepers move further from their posts, probably to heal any wounds inflicted by their monstrous charges, until there's only two keepers left at the enclosure around the Liondragon. As soon as they walk around to the other side, Zitao charges forwarding, knowing perfectly well that he'll be hidden behind the dragon's impressive bulk.

The distance of approximately thirty meters feels like nothing, passing by as quickly as if Zitao had been on his broom. His steps are quick and sure and he easily hides himself in the shadow cast by the Liondragon in the moonlight.

He breathes a quick sigh of relief. He can't believe it. He's actually next to a dragon.

If only he had his magical camera.

Zitao turns to face the dragon, taking in its dazed form. The scales are less red and more of a shiny scarlet up close and the golden spikes around its face gleam like the newest of Galleons. Underneath its regal chin is the flaming pearl he's only heard about in legends, and he's so close it feels like he could grasp it in both of his hands. The dragon is just so beautiful.

"Which one's this, yeh say?" he makes out the groundskeeper asking from the other side of the Liondragon, and he freezes in the safety of its shadow.

"Chinese Fireball," the red-headed keeper says, "this bloke's from the Canadian reservation actually. We couldn't get a nesting mother even though the Ministry asked, but apparently the fellow's as bloody protective of the young as any of the actual mothers. A real papa wolf."

"Doesn' the bloke have a name?"

Zitao hears the keeper chuckle. "Oh, he's got more than just a name. We can never keep it straight, really. Got four different papers from three different embassies with a whole mix of names and birthdays provided. Anyway, one of our guys insists on calling him Yifan, but the rest of us would probably mangle it and offend him. So we just stick with good old Kris."

"Kris the Chinese Fireball," the groundskeeper says happily, the sound of his hands clapping together in happiness echoing around the enclosure, "beau'iful name for a beau'iful boy."

Zitao turns to the Liondragon, whose golden eye is now half open and staring at him.

"Yifan, huh?" he whispers in Mandarin, the familiar tones slipping from his mouth easily in spite of the months he's gone without speaking a word of it. He rests his chin on his palm and his elbow on his knee, but maintains respectful eye-contact. "I think that's prettier."

The dragon grumbles at him, a deep gravelly noise that isn't very pleasant to the ears and sounds more like a drunken bear than anything. Or maybe a diseased toad? But he sounds pleased enough, although Zitao doesn't know whether that's due to hearing the language of his homeland or the use of his preferred name.

"Good luck though, and don't fry anyone," Zitao admonishes playfully, to which the dragon snorts. A mushroom cloud of smoke erupts from his nose and Zitao has to hold back his chuckle.

"I mean it," he says, "you'll have all of Durmstrang and Bulgaria on your scaly behind if you roast one of Krum's arms off for an afternoon snack."

He knows the Liondragon is still too stunned to do more than roll his golden eyes at him, but he still likes to think that Yifan understands.

"I should probably go now," Zitao whispers regretfully, finally noticing the increasing shadows coming towards the enclosement. "It was nice meeting you, Yifan." He bows, deep and low and formal as befitting for a regal creature like a dragon, and when he looks up he sees a single golden claw sluggishly pushing something over to him. The stunning spell must be wearing off.

After a few moments of struggling, Yifan finally seems finished with his task. In front of Zitao is a single scarlet scale the size of his head, that glimmers even in the shadow of the dragon's body. It must have been shed during the struggle against his keepers earlier, while Yifan was thrashing about.

"I can keep this?" he asks incrediously, reaching out to stroke it with tentative hands. It's so smooth. Dragon scales are rare, at least in their pure forms, and are rumored to be imbued with protective qualities. The red-headed keeper must have been right about Yifan's protectiveness, and Zitao feels a comforting warmth bubbling in his chest at the thought of being under such protection.

Yifan makes a tiny grunt before closing his eyes. Zitao doesn't have to be a dragon to understand him.

"Thank you, Dragon ge," he says respectfully. He picks up the scale and holds it close to his chest. "You take care too."

As he escapes the enclosure, making his way back to the lake and Durmstrang's ship with his present tucked underneath his robes, all Zitao can hear is the sound of Yifan's loud snoring echoing in his ears. Even when he bumps into Karkaroff halfway back, all he can breathe out when his headmaster asks what took him so long is a single word.

"Dragons."






Original Post: Here.
Author's Note: First of all, this is not related to the other
HP!AU I've already written for the HG competition lol. In this one, Tao is older than Harry and is a sixth or seventh year at Durmstrang. He was eligible for putting his name into the Goblet of Fire, but unfortunately (fortunately?) Krum was chosen instead. I'm still not sure how I thought of this, I can't remember exactly, but I did like the idea of Tao meeting Kris, who became one of the dragons in the first challenge, and both of them taking a liking to each other as travelers far from home. I had to ret-con a few things, hence the explanations of how Kris doesn't match the nesting mother criteria and about the dragons back in China. A few things about the Chinese dragons, I grabbed from Wikipedia like the flaming pearl, but for the most part I stuck with canon. JKR used such Westernized dragons though... lol. As for the bowing thing, I know that it's not common to bow in China anymore, but I did read that it was traditional when dealing with an emperor and dragons were said to be the Jade Emperor's descendents, so I thought it was proper? lol yeah. And Kris giving Tao the scale was his way of saying "Take care" because he's a big softy at heart lol

This was fun to write. I had to fix up a lot of errors before reposting, but it was definitely worth it. \o/
avirjin: (Default)
Title: The Suffering Slytherin
Fandom: Exo
Focus: Sehun-centric, Sehun/Tao
Genre: Gen, fluff
Rating: G
Length: Drabble series, 805 words
Summary: Episodes from Sehun's first year at Hogwarts. Harry Potter!Au set a few years before this.




Sehun/Chen - tough as cotton balls

"How has your first week in Slytherin been, Sehunnie?"

There's little warning before Sehun is smacked quite strongly on the back, and it's only through mere chance that he manages to avoid face-planting in his porridge. That would have been a disaster, Sehun figures, although he's not sure whether it'd be better or worse than getting caught in the crossfire of an inter-house hexing battle and as a result walking into the Sorting Ceremony with his hair charmed to change color every time his expression changed even slightly. He can't even breathe a sigh of relief now because then the pink shade he'd spent all morning getting used to would probably change again.

"My hair is still jinxed," he says blankly, already an expert in maintaining a straight face after a week of learning to control himself or risk further humiliation. He stares at Jongdae as accusingly as he can manage using only his eyes, but already he can feel his scalp starting to tingle.

Jongdae laughs, loud and bright as he plops down beside Sehun and starts filling his plate. "You can't let a harmless jinx like that ruin your first week, not if you're gonna survive in Slytherin for seven years," he tells Sehun through a mouthful of eggs. "So better toughen up. Besides, I think you're lucky Baekhyun and Chanyeol weren't having a bigger fight on the train, kid. The spells they used could have been worse."

Worse. Sehun can't even imagine how much worse things could be, and accidentally lets out a sigh.

"Merlin's saggy left--" he groans into his hands as Jongdae and half their table starts laughing at his fire-engine red hair.



Sehun/Tao - in the detail

How Sehun manages to wind up in remedial Charms lessons by the end of his first term is still something of a mystery to the rest of the Slytherin house.

"Are you sure you're pureblood? Shouldn't there be more magic running through your veins?" Jongdae had teased, and Sehun hadn't shown it because of that stupid hair color-changing charm that still hadn't worn off, but it honestly had hurt. But just a little.

So here he was, sitting in Flitwick's classroom after all other lessons have already concluded for the day and silently nursing his hurt feelings as he watched little cupcakes dance across his desk in a sorry attempt to cheer him up. Unlike the upperclassmen, Professor Flitwick had been sympathetic to the point of nausea and thought Sehun could use a distraction before leaving to fetch his new student tutor.

"Sorry I'm late! Quidditch practice was running late!"

When Sehun hears the high, light voice and catches a glimpse of yellow and black, he almost thinks he's been stuck with Kim Junmyeon, who'd given him an impromptu tour of the castle on his second day regardless of the fact that they were in different houses. But instead, the person who comes in is already a little bit taller and darker than tiny, pale Junmyeon, even if Sehun knows him to be younger.

It's the second year Hufflepuff beater. Huang Z-something-or-the-other.

"So Flitwick told me you were having trouble with charms?" he asks Sehun, smiling brightly as he grabs the seat in front of Sehun's and starts pulling out notes. "Something about how you half-ass the wand movements."

"He never said that."

His tutor laughs, that familiar high-pitched noise Sehun sometimes hears in the middle of a Quidditch match whenever he flies over the Slytherin side of the arena after sucessfully knocking a bludger someone's way. "You're right. He just implied it. Anyway, I'm Zitao."

"I know," Sehun lies, but not good enough because his hair shifts to lavendar and Zitao's not even bothering to hide how much it amuses him.

Other than that though, Zitao's not a bad tutor. He's eager to guide Sehun and correct the positioning of his wrist in a way that absolutely does not make Sehun feel like someone shot cheering charms right at his chest.

"Just swish and flick," Zitao tells him, his wrist moving gracefully, "really simple."

Sehun frowns, ignoring how his hair is now a moss green color and the way Zitao openly watches it change with a cat-like smile, and wiggles his wrist in a poor imitation. In response, the feather on his desk changes color until it's the same shade as his hair.

"Well, you're not lacking in potential," Zitao says kindly, edging closer into Sehun's personal space as he reaches for Sehun's hand again. His hand feels rougher compared to Sehun's smooth skin, the callouses from a term's worth of Quidditch practices already setting in. "Let's try that again."

Their lesson runs for an hour longer than either of them expected, but Sehun can't say he minds as he leaves the Charms classroom, feeling as light as the feather he's now capable of levitating.







Prompt: Taken from Exo prompt generators.
Author's Note: Written for Round 2 of the HG competition over at EM. The theme was Harry Potter, and it was a happy coincidence that I got two Sehun prompts in a row. Here, Sehun is a first year Slytherin, Tao is a second Hufflepuff, and Chen is a third year Slytherin (and actually in Harry's year, lol). It was only in retrospect that I realized that the second drabble was kind of similar to the EXO-Hogwarts!verse selu fic on Tumblr where Lu Han tutors Sehun in Charms, but it really was an accident? :( If I had the chance, I probably would have rewritten this and focused on a different subject then, like Herbology? That's something that requires just as much attention to detail as Charms, I suppose. What a pity.
avirjin: (Default)
I'm finally done with the Round 1 post! orz omg, that was so tiring lol, but thankfully I made a lot less for Rounds 2 and 2.5 and I only wrote one thing for Round 3 so less work. Originally I was gonna try to do Wreck-It Ralph/Sugar Rush-esque racing characters for Round 3, and I even looked up concept art and fanart and started working on getting the style down and designing their go-karts, but in the end... I had work all week and couldn't get to it. What a disappointment. In the end, Xiumin ended up being eliminated, but I can't say I didn't try my best for him. :'3

Round 2:

Cut 1 )


Cut 2 )


Cut 3 )



And then finally a toop I made!
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Notes: I actually tested it out here before I posted :3 The letters alternate between gifs and jpgs lol



Round 2.5:

Cut 4 )
avirjin: (Default)
This is going to be a compilation of all the fanart/vocaroos/edits/etc. that I made for EM's Hunger Games competitions! Or just the first round actually, since I submitted way too much then lol I actually kinda ashamed of how bad I am, but I was working to earn points for Xiumin and in the end that's what matters! lol

ETA: idk what' the deal is with the cuts, I think it's hard to fix them with the vocaroo posts so this compilation's a little sloppy? But this is the best I can do, I'm just really that bad with technology lol orz ughhhh

ROUND 1:
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Cut 8 )
avirjin: (Default)
Title: The Road Less Traveled
Fandom: Exo
Focus: Xiumin-centric, Lu Han/Xiumin friendship (?)
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Length: Oneshot, 1469 words
Summary: Even when the wizarding world begins its descent into chaos, Minseok remains steadfast in his decisions like a true Hufflepuff should. Harry Potter!AU set in the beginning of Book 6.




The year Minseok graduates from Hogwarts is a particularly busy one: Dumbledore is temporarily sacked, Umbridge takes over, Voldemort is revealed to have returned to power, and a good number of Minseok's yearmates immediately rethink their chosen career paths with all those eligible enlisting for Auror training.

It's all well and good for them -- only it isn't, his pure-blood friends insisted, not with a genocidal spector haunting the wizarding community once again -- but Minseok remains steadfast in his childhood decision to follow in his family's footsteps and work at his father's modest, muggle architecture firm. He may have spent seven school years in wizarding school, but he spent eleven years before that and the summers in-between doodling on blueprints and building scale-model houses with his father. Graduation hasn't changed anything. This Voldemort character hasn't either, even if he has been hearing horror stories about him since his first day at Hogwarts.

"How very Hufflepuff of you," Lu Han owls him a month after he returns to his hometown, "not surprised to see that stubborn streak showing." There's a photo attached of his fellow trainees, familiar faces dressed in billowing crimson dress robes and waving merrily at Minseok from within the frame.

Minseok can recognize a couple of his housemates in the background, and it's almost jarring how easily they've shed their old black and yellow for red. A few Ravenclaws stick out to him as well, along with the stray Slytherin standing awkwardly off to the side, but the majority are Gryffindors like Lu Han though, who all look right at home in the fore-front of things as always. Some people are just more suited for that sort of thing, Hogwarts has taught him with its carefully divided house lines and rivalries.

"If you're trying to guilt me into joining you, it's not going to work," he writes back, carefully keeping his ink from seeping through the parchment he's writing on and ruining the papers underneath containing the details of his first commission.

Lu Han sends him another photo of his circle of crimson-clad hero wannabes toasting at a London pub in response, but otherwise lets him off more gracefully than he would have if they were back at Hogwarts and forced to deal with each other on a daily basis. Instead, he asks all about how Minseok is readjusting to muggle life with the typical well-meaning curiosity of someone who's grown up taking floating plates of food and house elves for granted. It's only because they're friends -- best friends, Lu Han would insist with those creepy sparkly eyes and a tight grip on his shoulder -- that Minseok even bothers trying to make finally getting his driver's license and watching movies with his younger sister sound interesting.

That's Minseok's life for the longest time, living quietly in the muggle world while only keeping up with the going-ons of the wizarding community through his subscription to the Daily Prophet and Lu Han's letters. It's far more peaceful than whatever mess is going on in London, what with the Ministry changing leadership and new security scares happening everyday.

"Inferi! Can you believe it?" Lu Han rambles the one time he has enough free time to apparate back into Minseok's life. "There are people saying You-Know-Who is using inferi!"

"Wouldn't be a stretch. Didn't the history books say he's used giants and dementors before?" Minseok is only half-listening, hunched over his desk as he tries to figure out how to convince his latest clients that clearing out a plot of trees inhabited by an endangered species of bowtruckles would be a Bad Idea without actually mentioning said bowtruckles and breaching the statute of wizarding secrecy. "Last I remember, Potter was saying the same thing even if no one thought he was serious."

Lu Han's shoulders slump so much even Minseok has to notice it. "You're right. Fuck, what was that spell to hold them off again?"

"The Firestorm charm or the Fire Rope charm, if Moody or whoever we had sixth year wasn't shitting us."

It comes out automatically, as if Minseok was answering yet another professor back in a Hogwarts classroom in hopes of earning a few house points. But instead of congratulating him like back in their school days, Lu Han immediately goes quiet instead, and Minseok knows Lu Han's eyes are narrowing in on the back of his head based off of the chill that suddenly runs through his body.

"You were one of our year's top DADA students," Lu Han says, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "so what are you doing here when the wizarding world actually needs you in the field?"

Minseok sets down his pencil and turns around to look at Lu Han. There are wrinkles already forming on his face, dark circles under his eyes. Lu Han, who had always been full of life and energy back in the corridors of Hogwarts, looks so tired. He's always heard about how rigorous the Auror program could be -- of Lu Han's group, maybe only two or three would get through all three years of training, though if they were lucky enough the others could possibly have a shot at being hit-wizards instead -- but this is the first time he's seen the effects up close.

"I need you watching my back," Lu Han says. "Aren't Hufflepuffs all about loyalty?"

Several minutes pass before Minseok suddenly looks away, his face red. He turns back around and fumbles around his desk before finally pulling out several rolls of parchment and passing them over for Lu Han to read.

"I know magical architecture isn't a huge field anymore," he starts as he watches Lu Han open up one of the scrolls and start skimming the contents, "but even muggle architecture isn't all about just building houses anymore. We all want safe places."

Lu Han's eyes dart across the parchment, gradually widening the further he goes. "These are-- are you working with protection spells, Minseok?"

"Security spells," Minseok corrects him, his cheeks slightly red. "You say that the wizarding world needs help, but isn't You-Know-Who attacking muggles too?" Muggles like Minseok's family and neighbors and pretty much his entire hometown, who didn't have the benefit of either magic or knowledge at their disposal like their magical counterparts.

They both know it's true -- the latest report hadn't been about a witch or a wizard under attack, but rather of a Dark Mark over a muggle community center on the other side of the country. The damage had been bad enough that the muggles had to be told it was the result of a natural disaster rather than cold-blooded mass murder. But how many of those muggles would have survived if there had been even a basic warding spell over their doors, Minseok asked himself after reading the article. Even one or two would have been enough.

"Besides, even magical security systems are outdated," he continues, bolstered on by the memory, "did you see how easily that Moody impersonator got in our sixth year? Black got in a few times too, and I don't think dementors are going to cut it if they're even willing to go after the Chosen One."

Lu Han laughs, his jaw stretching far too wide -- but at least that means it's genuine. "As always, you're right, Minseokie. How you didn't end up in Ravenclaw, I'll never know."

He doesn't say another word about Minseok joining the force; instead, the two of them spend the rest of the night going over Minseok's notes. Lu Han happily hovers over Minseok's shoulder and informs him of the new security spells he's been learning about in his training while Minseok discusses how he's been trying to work such spells into the foundations of his father's latest projects, and it feels a lot like being back at school. Like when they'd been firsties and Lu Han had eagerly pointed out all the moving staircases and living portraits and soaked up Minseok's muggleborn perspective like a sponge, or when they'd been third years and Lu Han led him down the streets of Hogsmeade while listening to Minseok's recollections of his muggle hometown, or when they'd been fifth years and had spent the night before their career advice meetings in the library comparing similar magical and muggle occupations to settle their nerves.

There's something special about having one foot firmly in the muggle world and another in the wizarding one, which is probably why Minseok doesn't think he'll ever understand Voldemort's views even if he disregards the whole muggleborn thing. While being a wizard still feels like a dream every time he feels his wand warming his hand, his muggle heritage is something worth protecting as well.

That's a type of loyalty too. Minseok would know a little something about that.






Original Post: I'll link it later once the competition is over, I suppose? lol Here! lol
Author's Note: EM is holding a Hunger Games-esque competition where anons contribute fanworks in their biases' names in order to save them from elimination, and the current theme is Harry Potter. I've always had a lot of feelings about the world-building in HP and how JKR didn't flesh it out as much as I would have liked, so I focused on three things that I felt were neglected: what Hogwarts students do after graduating, the feelings of a muggleborn, and being a Hufflepuff.

I was able to research about Aurors and hit-wizards (it's actual more selective than I make it sound in this fic, I took so liberties ;_;), but there's very little about what else you could do in the HP world besides joining the government, becoming a teacher, becoming a store-owner, or just... being a stay-at-home type of person, So I wracked my brain and came up with a job like magical architecture!
 In my head-canon, I would imagine that a lot of thought actually has to go into building a magical house and making it both inconspicuous but still magical. Someone had to plot the construction of the Hogwarts Castle and Diagon Alley after all! Also, Xiumin's bio on the Wolf album said that he wanted to be an architect. :3 So much probably goes into architecture, but I wanted to focus on the magical elements as well as the mundane because in the end, like I say in the fic, we all just want safe places.

As for the muggleborn thing. Well, since Harry had such a traumatic childhood when it came to muggles, I can understand why JKR would end the story with him and his friends and family completely settled into the wizarding world. But I never felt that did justice to muggles? I suppose I just want the best of both worlds, but both just have so much to offer. Originally, I was going to have Xiumin talk about how he was trying to set up a magical branch of his dad's architecture fun, but I guess that goes happens in his future beyond this fic. But more than anything, I wanted there to be that balance between accepting that yeah. You're a wizard. But you spent eleven years of your life believing you were a muggle, being a muggle. It's a part of a person in the end, and one that shouldn't be neglected in my opinion. The muggle world was just as fabulous and unbelievable to wizards like the Weasleys as the wizarding world was to Harry once he took that first step. 

And finally, well this might be my Pottermore Hufflepuff side speaking but JKR did a great disservice to Hufflepuffs :<!! Haha, enough joking. To be honest, the Hufflepuff thing was a last minute decision. Originally, it was Lu Han calling out Xiumin for not being Gryffindor enough. But to me, Xiumin is rather steadfast and stable and... Gryffindors aren't really that. He's not particularly brave or reckless enough to be one, and I think of all the times he's stood in the back and just let things happen and how stable of him /swoons. And then I thought more about how you can be loyal to more than just a person. You can be loyal to ideas, to your heritage as well. And I loved it. 

So yeah, I still have a lot of feelings about this. I originally wanted to write about how Xiumin's became one of the few serious magical architects in England and how he built all these safe houses for wizards on the run and cast protection charms on as many muggle houses as he could and how that was his part in the Second Wizarding War, a small background part where he could help but not in the typical Gryffindor-charging-to-the-front-of-the-battlegrounds way. And then two years later, he's the one who gets commissioned to help rebuild Hogwarts and he has to deal with the fact that he's fixing up the very place he wasn't there to defend and there was going to be a lot. But a really lovely anon on EM actually continued this story for me and did such a wonderful job that I think even if I write my own version, I wouldn't post it there. I don't think it's possible to write my own version without borrowing some of her elements, and it's a pity really, but I don't think I'm particularly displeased because she somehow managed to capture everything I could have wanted to say and more. She did a wonderful job, and I'll link to it here once the tournament's over because my story... it's a one-shot, but it doesn't feel complete anymore. Not after you read her continuation :) It's silly to be proud of something you didn't even write, but I'm glad I laid that foundation for her.

In the end, that's what my story's all about, isn't it? 

ETA: So, it turns out that this story got both a continuation and prequels, so I'm gonna link to them! I didn't write them myself, which should be obviously seeing how high-quality the others' works are but I think they should still be read? To get a full story! It's also a way for me to bookmark 'em since it's so hard to find EM posts after a while lol
- The Xiuhan continuation, by an unknown D.O anon. It's two years after my story and focuses on when Xiumin comes back to Hogwarts to help rebuild following the Battle of Hogwarts.
- Roots and Leaves, a three-part prequel written by Kit! It focuses on Xiumin and Lu Han while they're still in school as they're still sorting out their futures.

I'm really happy with how things worked out! What a happy memory lol :3

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