#show canon compliant

[magimerlyn]

Until the End

An Ever After High prequel fanfiction

Chapter 1

The Wrong Roommate

It was the beginning of the school year at Ever After High, and students were beginning to move onto campus and into the dorms. A girl with pale, milky skin and long, cream colored hair went to the bulletin board to double check the dorm assignments. She wore a pink knee-length skirt, and a white blouse with lace sleeves. Her pink kitten heels had a small pearl dangling from each buckle. She wore a white pearl headband and carried a small, square white handbag with a light pink rose in the center.

Pearl White, the descendant of Snow White, sighed, seeing that the headmasters had not honored her request for a fellow princess as her roommate. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. They had decided to room her with Victoria Hearts, the daughter of the Queen of Hearts, an exchange student from Wonderland who was there to take advantage of the princess class track at Ever After High.

Pearl had hoped to room with one of her friends, like Helena or Cynthia. The three has met in middle school, when Pearl had all but begged her mother to let her go to public school. The girls had quickly become friends. They bonded over and daydreamed about their destinies, and their bond had lasted for years now. And it would for ages to come.

The heavy doors of the school slammed open with violent purple magic. In strode Adrian Queen, the son of the Evil Queen, with Ragnar Huntsman following a step behind him. Pearl quickly averted her gaze, hoping to avoid his notice. This was why she had wanted to room with one of her friends, so she wouldn’t be alone when he inevitably decided to hurt her arbitrarily.

She could feel the moment when his alexandrite eyes landed on her, could see in her mind’s eye the cold, cruel smirk that spread across his face. She heard the click click click of his heeled dragon-scale boots as he walked across the polished wooden floors, coming to a stop right behind her.

“Hello, dear sister,” a black velvet voice purred from behind her. Slowly, she turned, looking up at the boy standing a few feet away. His black hair was swept to one side of his face, an iron crown sitting upon his head. He wore his royal wealth with pride, a deep purple stone hanging from one ear, and a black cape trimmed in gold and lined with indigo off one shoulder. His high-necked black shirt tucked into high-waisted tailored trousers. An iron corset encircled his waist and he wore a matching bracer on each arm.

“Hello, Adrian,” she said, barely keeping her voice steady. “Is there something you needed?”

The smirk widened into a cold grin, showing far too many teeth to be anything resembling friendly. “I just wanted to know who your new roommate was. It would be best if I took care of any misunderstandings early on, don’t you agree?”

Pearl sighed, glancing back up at the board. “I’m roommates with Victoria Hearts of Wonderland. She’s an exchange student.”

Adrian looked pensive for a moment, before saying “Ah, the future Queen of Wonderland. Good, I had worried it’d be someone I’d need to talk to.”

“Talk to” would have meant threatening Pearl’s roommate to not get involved in their affairs, but since everyone knows that villains all have an unspoken agreement to not get involved anyway, it would be unnecessary.

“Where’s your luggage, Ragnar and I will help you bring it up to your room.” That predator grin was back. Sometimes Pearl could swear that Adrian was part dragon, the way he played with his food. She nodded demurely and the three of them walked out to where her carriage had dropped her and her friends off. Her luggage was piled next to her friends’, where Adrian’s magic wrapped around it to lift into the air.

Ragnar nodded at the two girls in greeting. He didn’t often say much, in fact all most people ever heard leave his lips was a reverent “yes, your highness,” always directed at Adrian. His chestnut hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, choppy bangs framing his face. His almond-shaped eyes were like pools of emerald, and just as hard. Pearl noted that his bow and sword were missing from his back and side, though the rest of his outfit was the same as always: a studded leather pauldron over a deep blue shirt, a few belts that would ordinarily hold his sheath and quiver, and dark brown pants tucked into leather boots. The only thing on his belt right now was Adrian’s Token: an iron dragon curled around a piece of cut alexandrite.

Helena Rose, a dark-skinned girl with onyx eyes, looked up from the book in her hands. Her black braids were pulled into a half ponytail and she wore a yellow sundress paired with a flower crown. Her wedge sandals matched the woven straw purse slung across her body. She was sitting next to Cynthia Ella, a girl with dark brown hair and tinted skin. Her sapphire blue eyes sharpened when she saw Pearl’s luggage starting to float. She stood up, brushing down her deep blue skirt and glared at Adrian from behind her wire-rimmed glasses.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, one hand resting on her hip.

Adrian briefly glanced over to the girls before turning his attention back to the suitcases. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with, Cindy. Don’t you have some laundry to do?”

Cynthia fumed as Pearl spoke up. “He’s helping me get settled in. Everything is okay, I promise.” She gave a reassuring smile. “You know how it is.”

Her friend looked like she wanted to say something, but she sighed, relenting. “So I’m guessing we’re not roommates?” Pearl shook her head regretfully. Cynthia cursed under her breath before her eyes flickered to Pearl’s brother. “They didn’t put you with-“

“Of course not!” Pearl tried to soothe her friend. “After what happened in middle school, there’s no way they’d try putting him in the girl’s dorms.”

Adrian laughed from where he was standing. “Who could have guessed that preserved Dragon’s Breath could be so volatile?” Ragnar cracked a grin at that, his gaze softening as he looked at the smirking warlock.

Pearl offered Cynthia a reassuring smile. “They have me rooming with Victoria Hearts. Adrian is just helping me with my luggage. He insisted.” She shrugged, trying to convey a “what can you do?” It didn’t seem to work, judging by Cynthia’s expression.

“Pearl.” Adrian called sharply. She jolted, before shooting a last smile at her friends and hurrying over to her brother. He strode forward, his knight at his right hand and his sister at his left. The crowds parted on their approach, previously spoken conversations hushed down to a whisper. The three of them climbed the stairs of the girl’s dormitory. When they finally reached the door with Pearl’s name on it, Adrian knocked imperiously before having Ragnar open it.

Half of the room was already decorated in red, black, white, and gold. A black vanity with gold on the edges stood a few feet down from the tufted red and white bed frame. The bed was pushed against the wall, and a shining black nightstand stood beside it. There was a large red armchair positioned next to a small bookshelf by the window, already set up with bright red drapes.

Sitting at the vanity was a girl with long black hair. When the door opened, she turned her pale, heart-shaped face to the intruders, her garnet eyes looking them up and down. Her makeup was simple, but harsh, her lips painted into a small, blood-red heart. She had blunt bangs cut just above her eyebrows, and half of her hair was tied up in a heart-shaped bun. She wore a golden tiara with heart-shaped rubies and oval-shaped pieces of jet. She wore a high-necked, tight-fitting black shirt, with a red corseted skirt reaching just below her knee. A red, heart-shaped purse with a golden chain was slung over the back of her chair.

“White knight, moonshine, a place, a face, I have mine?*” she asked. Pearl and Ragnar shared a look of confusion, while Adrian laughed.

“Well then, that certainly clears up any question of this being the right room,” he smirked, leading the trio inside. “I am Adrian Queen, son of the Evil Queen. I’m helping my sister move in. And you must be Princess Victoria Hearts of Wonderland.”

Victoria nodded. “And I presume you are my roommate,” she said, turning her gaze over to Pearl, who nodded.

“My name is Pearl White, daughter of Ivory White. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She looked around the room. “I… like your room. It’s very… fitting.”

“Clubs, spades, hearts and diamonds all ten,”* Victoria said, turning back to her vanity and the cards she had set out.

Adrian set down the luggage. “Well then, Ragnar and I will be off. Pearl, I’m sure you’ll behave yourself.” With that, he swept out of the room, leaving Pearl to unpack on her own, with a villain on the other side of the room.

*Riddlish translations:

“Hello, what is your name?”

“That is very kind of you.”

[myimaginationplain]

On one hand, I think that Kiyi is actually a wonderful idea for a character; you can get a lot of interesting stories out of inserting this innocent, guiless little girl into such a fraught & complex pre-existing family dynamic.

However, some mind-numbingly bad storytelling decisions surround Kiyi's existence in canon. Ursa's magical amnesia chief among them; it is so goddamm boring to take a character with as much baggage to chew on as Ursa has, only to make it so she has to grapple with literally none of it.

No Ursa looking at baby Kiyi & mourning for the two babies she was forced to leave behind, grieving children who are still alive. No Ursa looking at Kiyi grow up & seeing Zuko & Azula in her, equally as happy as she is afraid for her. No Ursa trying to give Kiyi as normal & happy a childhood as she can, while constantly looking over her own shoulder, praying that she won't be recognized. No Ursa hearing wild rumors about her older children's whereabouts & actions, not knowing what to believe.

No, instead of any of that, we just get Ursa becoming a blank slate who can now go off & live a blissfully ignorant happily ever after with her (equally blank) high school sweetheart, forgetting the very children whom she risked everything for in the first place. And that sucks.

Also, if I were writing Kiyi, I'd just say fuck it & make her Ozai's kid. That's a thousand times more interesting.

[rozesmiana]

I finally designed him but couldn’t decide so I ended up with 3 variants: the everyday Piltover look, the going to the undercity look and the blending in with the high-class look

The slutty open collar made a return and I kept the vambraces in every outfit bc there’s no way Ezio would put them down, otherwise I could’ve given him more details but I’m happy with the look and silhouettes 👍

[al-luviec]

sensei morro ref (is it really an au if it's part of your personal canon)

[synonymroll648]

headcanon that the reason sophie still has eyelashes to pull on the regular is that grady and edaline worked something out with the dizznees to get a tasteless formula to help eyelash growth specifically to put drops of in her bottles of youth. because there’s no way her ptsd-induced trichotillomania (oversimplified definition for those who aren’t familiar: hair pulling disorder) is gonna die down during the war, so they’re trying to make sure she doesn’t move from eyelashes to eyebrows or her Hair hair by giving her More Eyelashes

[h-didanart]

I could try to make this a whole comic, but I don’t have the patience to. So….

Bloodmoon giggled to himself as he scurried away. It wasn’t always that he could get such a good glance at the Daycare idiot’s daily routine, but when he did, boy was it a blast.

Some odd creature emerged from the portal and some confrontation took place, he was excluded from it, having been up in the rafters and all, so he had been in a perfect position to see the absolute frustration in the Sun-Man’s face as the creature toppled over his precious barrel towers, and then, and then— he snorted just remembering— and then the Sun-Man chased around the creature screaming every single swear word that could ever be said.

He had almost fallen off the rafters from laughing too hard, which had sadly gotten him spotted by the computer, which meant he had to leave. But still, it had been very amusing, so now he was on his way to the place he and the little Pumpkin Sprout usually met at— the theatre basement, with its infinite food supply and stuff— and he was going to talk to them about it, because they had to know.

He entered the space, bouncing in place at seeing the pumpkin bot already there, and he approached them.

Hmm, Little Sprout didn’t usually go for knives that quickly. Nor did they usually tackle him that quickly, nor would they aim for his eye, nor would they be the ones to start a sneak fight, nor— okay this was just not how Jack normally acted. Which meant…

[stanhousearrest]

I've read a lot of headcanons and theories that try to explain why Fiddleford went from taller than the Stan twins to much shorter.

and sure terrible posture is partially to blame, but look at how all of McGucket is just smaller.

may I propose a canon and likely answer:

[gigigazelleloves]

So you're telling me that these extremist Buddie fans can sit here and excuse/defend Gerrard's current racist actions but they can completely hate Tommy for his racist actions in the past? This is exactly what I mean when I say that's some people in this fandom love weaponizing racism for their benefit.

[fistfuloflightning]

It was a slip of the tongue, Shen Yuan screamed internally. He’d been thinking of—well, it didn’t matter what he was thinking of! It just slipped out and now Jiu-ge was laughing at him behind his fan and thinking all kinds of awful ways to mock him for those three words.

He risked a glance back up, only to catch Shen Jiu’s fleeting smile before it hid itself again. He closed his fan with a snap before using the end to tip up Shen Yuan’s chin. “Took you long enough,” he murmured. Lips pressed to Shen Yuan’s cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. “I love you too.”

[autistic-katara]

being a fanfic writer is rewatching part of ur fav show and taking notes

[wlntrsldler]

thinking non-canon luke thoughts because i just remembered the story of orpheus and eurydice and i had to take a breather

im thinking about how when luke was starting to have doubts about kronos’ plan; when he was slowly realizing that what the titan was planning was not going to fix everything the way he thought it would, kronos could feel luke slipping away.

im thinking about how it probably wouldn’t have been too late for luke to turn back and return to his friends, his family, and beg for their forgiveness, had he just not shown kronos his weakness, his achilles heel; but he did.

it was in a dream, it started out comforting, like it always did. luke was cleaning up after some of the younger campers in the hermes cabin. no matter how many times he told them to not leave their things on the floor and to throw away their snack wrappers, they wouldn’t listen. luke didn’t know why he wasted his breath reminding his siblings.

you were leaning against the door frame, a mischievous smile on your lips. “what’s up, cinderella?”

luke, startled, dropped the pile of dirty laundry he was holding. when he realized it was you, he rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head, “i told you to stop calling me that.”

when you first called him cinderella, he was a little confused. the disney princesses all blurred into one entity in his mind. was she the one who ate the poisoned apple? the one who pricked her finger on the needle? there’s no way she was the mermaid, right?

when you returned the following summer, you managed to smuggle in a dvd of cinderella and one of those portable dvd players. the two of you watched it in secret while the rest of the campers were away at the bonfire.

at first, luke scoffed at the comparison, “how am i cinderella?”

“you always clean up after your siblings, silly,” you laughed.

he was still a little hurt by it, especially since he harbored a massive crush on you. why couldn’t you see him as a rugged prince or something? he thought maybe wishing that you saw him as a knight would be too cliche; but he accepted the kind-hearted pet name because it made you laugh. it was luke’s favorite sound.

the scene in his dream changed quickly after that. your mischievous smile turned into something more sinister as the darkness from outside trickled into the cabin. the pile of clothes he dropped on the floor disappeared and the floor began to crack, as if trying to swallow him whole. then the voice came.

luke knew that kronos knew about you then; how luke felt about you, how if there was anything that could stop him from joining, it would be you.

as the days went on, the pull to return back to camp was getting stronger. luke wanted to see you. he needed to see you. so he did.

behind the trees of your cabin, he stood there, watching you talk to your siblings. if he concentrated hard enough, his mind could replay the sound of your laughter. he was too far to actually hear it then, but he thought of it. he imagined it.

he even let out a silent chuckle when he thought about how badly you would tease him for spying on you like this; in another life, you’d catch him and joke about how he couldn’t get enough of you. in another life, maybe, he’d hear your laugh again. maybe he’d be the reason for it.

when kronos learned of luke’s escapade, the titan grew angry. the nightmares felt more personal after that. kronos seemed to know all of luke’s weak spots and threatened to act on them if luke disobeyed again.

there was one night that was particularly difficult. the titan was growing stronger and it was the first time luke couldn’t fight him off, the first time he felt himself losing control over his own body, his own mind. luke tried to wake up from his slumber, but it was no use.

kronos dangled a promise in front of him; a promise that if luke continued with the plan, a promise that if luke didn’t look back, kronos would leave you alone, that you’d survive. luke agreed to it. luke would do anything to save you.

but the pull was still there. kronos was right. luke wanted to leave, this he was sure of now, and the night he saw you just made it more difficult to follow through with the plan. he missed you.

in the final battle, luke was too weak to continue fighting. there was so much blood on his hands that he lost track of who he had hurt. he was tired. as he was about to succumb to his fate, he heard it.

“cinderella,” you called out. “hermes cabin is a mess. they need you back.”

luke was distracted by you. only you would be making jokes at a time like this. luke sent you a crooked smile and he received that mischievous smile of yours right back. he thought that it might morph into something evil, like it was one of his dreams, but it didn’t; it turned into something worse.

there was blood spilling out of your mouth. you froze in your spot before falling to your death.

“you looked back.” that voice.

he found enough strength then to do one last thing; with a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, luke stabbed himself in his mortal spot.

[starrycassi]

Acta, non verba.

(this is a snippet and the premise of a wip I'm working on. It will eventually be on AO3. I hope)

(Actions, not words.)

Viktor is a quick learner. An observant person. The boy that sees it all, knowing that ignorance could cost him his life. He is smart, and he knows it. His analytical capacities earned him his place in an institution designed for everyone but him.

It does not take him long to reach a definite, undeniable conclusion about Jayce Talis’s strange demeanor: The man is a genius full of love, a scientist dripping with an unmatched tenderness, an engineer craving warmth. He gives, and gives, and keeps on giving.

He reaches out, jumps head first, blindfolded and deaf into the depth of their equations, of the possibly deathly void that stands in front of them. He is thrown into the political battlefield, into the demanding crowd, into the pedestal that Piltover has been waiting to fill. And Jayce gives, and gives, and keeps on giving.

His partner seeks physical reassurance as much as he seeks the answers of the universe.

Viktor, unfortunately for his already precarious sanity, wants to give him both.

Or five times Viktor touched Jayce’s forehead + 1 time where Jayce understood what it meant.

.

Viktor has made it.

By every standard, he’s made it. He got out of The Undercity. He has a mildly decent job as Heimerdinger’s right hand. He has an apartment with running water (hot water, even!) and eats three meals in most days. He affords his clothes and his vitamin pills. He has a working brace, and he has a functional ID. He even has a bank account. An actual back account, with interest rates and all the paperwork it entails.

If you asked him ten years ago what he expected heaven to be like, this would have been the description.

Anyone from the fissures would envy his position. Harsh winters are not a life-threatening event, anymore. He can actually survive the dry summers without too much worry. He has a heater at home, a shower with clean water, a decent bed with a firm mattress. And he should be happy. Everyone tells him that he should be happy, or proud, or thankful. He is the one that made it out. One of the good ones. An inspirational story for all the little kids in The Undercity. He knows his name is whispered over the dinner tables, his image pictured when children manage to steal books, when parents sit down with pencil and paper, when the soup has gone cold and the air feels too heavy.

He is not the only one, of course. There are others that, like him, have managed to claw their way out. Merchants that secured themselves a position in Piltover after generations of work, crafters that turned and twisted their tastes to fit with the expectations in this side of the bridge, fortunate brides and grooms that found a topsider lover and shed their past like a thorn coat. Still, there are only about half a dozen of them in The Academy. Still, it’s him that stands at Heimerdinger’s side in the conferences, carrying a stack of papers, managing his notepad, holding his speeches. It is Viktor and only Viktor that has been trusted with a copy of the yordle’s keys, after all.

He should be more than happy. Joyous. Beatific. Elated. He did it.

And, yet.

“Do you think my life’s ambition was to become an assistant?” He tells Kiramman’s protégée.

The boy looks at him, as if he’s never looked at anyone about to commit a crime before. No, Viktor tells himself, he probably has not. Is the Kiramman heir not an enforcer? And her mother a councilor? Jayce’s only source of illegal endeavors must be his own experience, which explains why he was stupid enough to keep the evidence on his main residence.

There is potential there, then, if he dared go against the pedigree of those who were sponsoring him. Viktor knows himself smart enough to work with that potential. Jayce could be great, and Viktor could use that greatness for good.

[zombeau]

heyyy aftg friends would it be chill if i maybe posted some writing of my oc x kevin day or is that cringe?

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

Have I mentioned I HATE the way I outline??

Why do I always have to figure out the plan? Why can't past Sarah figure out the plan for once???

[v4visms]

and now for something a little different in regards to this thing

[thunderstomm]

I’m nothing without you

Well maybe not nothing, But a whole lot less - It’s true…!