liz | she/her | minor | this is my writing side-blog | main is @positively-liz | | kotlc sideblog is @callas-starkflower-stew | mlb sideblog is @the-ladybl0g | pfp by spacialrift
Based off this heartbreaking post by @sabertoothwalrus
A/N: thank you to @obsessed-avacado for beta reading
Pairing: ladynoir?
Word Count: ~1k
TW: uhh angst, lots of it (lmk if you’d like me to tag something)
She sat on the rooftop with her legs dangling over the edge, the dark city landscape of Paris spread out in front of her. Despite the late hour, windows were lit up across the city, casting flickering shadows that showed the late night schedules of many citizens. Above her, the night sky was alight with thousands of stars, a minuscule glimpse into an infinite universe.
A quiet voice drew her attention away from the stars. “M’lady?” Next to her, Chat was unusually still, his feet hanging over the ledge and thighs pressed against hers ever so slightly.
A/N: This is for the sixth prompt for Sophitz ship week!
Pairing: Sophie x Fitz
Word Count: ~600
TW: uhh eating mentions

“Is that my hoodie?” Fitz demanded as Sophie came into the room, wearing a teal hoodie a few sizes too big for her. She plopped down next to him on the couch with a smirk.
“Maybe,” she smiled, a mischievous light in her eyes. Cuddling up to Fitz’s side, she reached over and stole a handful of popcorn from the bowl on his lap.
Fitz pulled the bowl closer to his chest. “Thief!” he cried, his lips forming a mock-pout. “First my sweater, now my popcorn! What’s next, my blanket?” he asked, gesturing to the faded pink blanket on his lap.
:readmore:
“No promises,” Sophie said with a laugh. She reached for the popcorn bowl again, causing Fitz to move it to the other side of his lap, just out of Sophie’s reach.
“Hey!” she pouted, crossing her arms. She was silent for a moment or two before she glanced at Fitz out of the corner of her eye.
He sighed as he turned on the TV. “Fine, here you go. But only because you look so cute in my hoodie.” He passed the bowl over to Sophie, who was blushing furiously at his words. Three months of dating, and she still got butterflies every time he complimented her.
It was Friday night, which meant date night. This week, Sophie had chosen to watch a movie, so the two of them were currently set up in Fitz’s basement in front of the large-screen TV.
As the movie started up, Fitz spoke, his head tilted slightly down to look at Sophie. “Speaking of my hoodie, how on earth did you find that one? It’s my favourite, and I could've sworn I hid it!” he demanded between bites of popcorn.
“Yeah, you hid it all right. In Biana’s room. You know she’s on my side, right?” Sophie batted her eyelashes at him as Fitz grumbled something under his breath. “Hey, don’t be mad! She just likes me more. Besides, all your hoodies are cozier than my own.”
“I’m not mad,” he responded. “Betrayed, maybe. And a little cold.” Sophie let out a small laugh. “But not mad. I can never stay mad at you,” he said, watching Sophie fiddle with the ends of the hoodie’s sleeves. He put a hand on one of hers. “Hey. You know I mean that, right?” He asked in a soft voice, his other hand gently tilting Sophie’s chin up so he could look her in the eye. “I’m serious. I know I’ve gotten pretty heated before, but I promised you, Soph, and I meant it.”
Sophie sat up, and the blonde strands of hair that had come loose from her ponytail fell into her eyes. She brushed them away, the ends of the hoodie sleeves shifting from their position above her wrists and slipping down her forearms instead. “I know,” she repeated quietly, “I know.” With that, she leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Fitz’s lips. “Now quit being so sappy and watch the movie!”
Fitz laughed, leaning back in for another kiss. Sophie happily obliged, kissing him back softly. “Sorry,” he murmured, smiling against her lips.
A few seconds later, Sophie pulled back and tapped him lightly on the chest. “Movie,” she reminded him, settling back into her previous position against his side.
“Alright, alright,” he said, putting an arm around her. It was dark out now, the only light coming from the TV. It illuminated Sophie’s face, with her cheeks tinged pink and her brown eyes focusing intently on the screen. “But I want my hoodie back.”
tag list: @sophitz-week @steppingonshatteredglass @dragonwinnie-kotlc @enbies-and-felonies (lmk if you wanna be added or removed!)
A/N: This is for this second prompt for Sophitz ship week! I forgot how fun it is to write angst >:)
Pairing: Sophie x Fitz
Word Count: ~1.7k
TW: blood, death
Sophie has had many near-death experiences.
Everyone knows this; she’s constantly throwing herself in the path of danger to help other people, no matter the cost. She’s at the center of it all, which means the outcome of most things depends on her. And she’s all too willing to sacrifice herself.
Fitz has had one or two himself. The one that haunts him the most was the incident with the arthropleura, and it brings back memories of vile tea and dark spiderwebs, and the sensation of being caught between life and death.
Something all these events had in common was that no matter what, everyone was okay. Mind breaks, broken bones, shadowflux; there were so many moments where someone was teetering on the edge of death. Honestly, Sophie flirted with death more than she did Fitz. But at the end of the day, she was always safe— alive.
Looking down at his tunic soaked in Sophie’s blood, Fitz wasn’t sure that this time was going to be like rest. When he had stumbled into the Healing Centre, Sophie in his arms, Bullhorn hadn't even screamed. He had simply laid down next to her, his tiny body almost as motionless as the blonde was.
Fitz remembers Sophie’s hair spread out beneath her like a halo, her eyes closed as though she were asleep, and blood, so much blood. And that’s all he remembers before he collapses and the world fades to black.
---
The next week was a whirlwind of vials and bandages, flashing lights and sleepless nights. Fitz had recovered within a few days. Thanks to Elwin’s care, his injuries hadn’t been too serious.
But Sophie remained unconscious, and Fitz wasn’t sure if she was ever going to wake up.
The thought caused his chest to constrict, his emotions triggering the shadow flux and making it impossible to breathe. Once, Elwin had rushed over, thinking Fitz was injured, but there was nothing the physician could do except offer him a sedative. Everything Fitz was dealing with was happening internally, now that Sophie was on Death’s doorstep.
Sophie was strong, he knew that. And she had fought for her life many times before. But it was different this time, and Fitz wasn’t sure how to explain it, but some part of him knew this wasn’t going to have a happy ending.
Sighing, he stood up, fighting the waves of dizziness as he stood next to Sophie’s cot. She was deathly pale, the dark circles under her eyes more prominent against the ashiness of her skin. She lay almost completely immobile, her body still, her chest rising and falling ever so slightly. Her features were schooled into something neutral, and Fitz couldn't tell if it was an improvement from the shaking and twitching. At least before he had known that some part of her was aware of her body and reacting to the pain.
Fitz dared think she looked peaceful, now that the blood had been cleaned off and various parts of her body were neatly bandaged. Tentatively, he placed a shaking hand to Sophie’s temple, fearing her to be so fragile that she would break under his touch. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mind to hers.
Just like the last time he had entered her mind, it was dark and empty on the surface. He could feel her consciousness lingering, but it was fading day by day. “It’s me,” Fitz thought, tears welling up in his eyes. “Sophie, it’s me.”
Recently, it had been harder to see inside her head. He repeated it once more, putting a little more force behind his mental voice. With that, he felt her mental walls break down, flooding his mind with images. It was chaos. Fragments of battles, places, and people appeared before being lost in the sea of Sophie’s thoughts. Just like yesterday, the day before, and the day before that, it seemed as though Sophie’s mind was sifting through her life in random order. He saw Silveny and the twins, Lady Gisela in the blizzard, the Neverseen symbol on the arm of a cloak. More than once, he saw himself. In the past few days, he had seen his eyes staring back at him, through Sophie, more than he had in his lifetime of reflections in a mirror. Her mind was disorganized, and despite Sophie’s photographic memory, all of it was blurry. Everything sounded muffled, and it was hard to make out the words of conversations.
A few days ago, when Fitz had first checked her mind, Sophie had appeared to be replaying recent events. As the hours passed, more events were brought up, blending with fragments of images and memories. Faster than Fitz would like to have admitted, Sophie’s mind descended into confusion. After that, things had started to become quieter and out of focus. Now, Fitz felt helpless as he felt Sophie fade away from him, like grains of sand slipping through his fingers. Though he had tried, there was nothing he could do except watch as Sophie disappeared in front of him physically and mentally.
A voice startled his consciousness back to the real world, and Fitz turned around to see Elwin with fresh bandages in his hands. His hair was messier than usual, and instead of the usual fun ties he wore, this one was green. It was the same rich hue of the grass, of emeralds. The same rich hue elves wore in mourning.
“She’s still alive,” Fitz rasped, voice crackling from disuse. “She’s still in there.”
Elwin sighed. “I know, Fitz, I know. But barely.” He helped Fitz back to the chair before taking his place next to Sophie. Carefully, he unwrapped the old bandages. Fitz caught sight of burnt flesh and red welts before he had to look away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Elwin disposing of the bloodied bandages. Despite his best efforts, Fitz felt tears forming in the corner of his eyes and blinked them back.
“She’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. “She has to be.” He didn't know who he was convincing more, Elwin or himself.
---
“No, Sophie, no no no.” Fitz knew he was crying, but he didn’t bother to try and hide it. “Please, Sophie. You’re stronger than this.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it was all too loud in the quiet of Sophie’s fading heartbeat.
Two more weeks had passed, and Sophie hadn’t gotten better. Fitz had finally become well enough to return home, but he spent most of his time at the Healing Centre by Sophie’s side.
Inside Sophie’s head, one memory was on replay. It was dark and out of focus, and the sound was so distorted Fitz couldn’t make out the audio. But he knew the memory Sophie had latched on to. It was that day in the San Diego Natural History Museum, when Fitz had discovered Sophie for the first time. Through Sophie’s eyes he could see himself pointing at the newspaper and gesturing towards her. He saw his face when Sophie had used telekinesis on the lamp post, when he had grabbed her hand and teleported her to the Lost Cities, and when he promised to return the next day.
In Fitz’s mind, he remembered seeing Sophie for the first time. She was surrounded by classmates, though she lingered near the back of the group. Her head was down, and he could see the cords of her earbuds through the blonde hair covering half of her face. When she looked up and met his eyes, Fitz was taken aback by her eyes. They were a warm brown, and even from a distance he could see the flecks of gold in them. They were captivating and secretive, reflecting something Fitz couldn’t quite name. He realized at that moment that if this was the girl he was looking for, he was screwed. So screwed. Because she was beautiful.
And that girl, that beautiful girl, was dying right in front of him.
With every passing second, the memory in Sophie’s mind dimmed, matching the quieting of her breaths. Her chest was rising and falling so softly Fitz could barely tell she was breathing at all. Fitz sat there, watching every one of her inhales and exhales, grasping for thin threads of hope that danced just out of his reach.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
A beat, in which Sophie missed a breath and Fitz’s heart caught in his throat. Tears were falling freely now, and he intertwined his fingers with Sophie’s cold ones.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
…
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
“No,” Fitz whispered. “No, no no!” His voice rose to a shout. “Elwin! Elwin!” He was yelling now, the desperation in his throat so thick he almost choked on it. “Elwin!”
Elwin came rushing into the room, his glasses askew. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Sophie,” was all Fitz managed to say.
Elwin went pale. He placed a finger on Sophie’s wrist, feeling for her pulse. He shook his head back and forth, muttering under his breath. He snapped his fingers, creating orbs of light and examining Sophie’s motionless body, his eyes glassy. Finally, he looked up, meeting Fitz’ gaze. “She’s gone,” Elwin whispered, his voice cracking on the last word.
Fitz couldn’t breathe. He felt as though someone had a hand around his ribs, crushing them. He could hear his heartbeat in his chest, its pounding filling his ears and drowning out the sounds of Elwin’s crying. Tears blurred his vision, and feeling his legs give out under him, he collapsed on the chair next to Sophie’s cot.
For a second, he was angry, angry at himself and the Neverseen and the world. She didn’t deserve what she had been through, and she didn’t deserve this ending. He felt the anger flare, threatening to consume him, but it quickly died down again, overtaken by the aching, stinging, agonizing pain and sorrow he was drowning in.
In that moment, all he wanted to hear was Sophie’s voice. He wanted to see her golden-brown eyes gazing back at him, wanted to feel the heat beneath her blushing cheeks, wanted to see her smile. But he couldn't, and he wouldn't, ever again. That girl he had fallen in love with, with her flushed cheeks and incredible mind, was gone.
Sophie Foster was gone.
tag list: @sophitz-week @steppingonshatteredglass @dragonwinnie-kotlc @enbies-and-felonies (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3)
A/N: This is for this first prompt for Sophitz ship week! This is not my best work, my apologies, (I swear I’m actually a decent writer) but it’s a little something to help me out of my writer’s block. I might come back and expand on it if I get the chance!
Pairing: Sophie x Fitz
Word Count: ~800
TW: I don’t think there are any? lemme know if you want me to tag anything :)
“S-c-h-a-p-p-e... schappe,” Sophie spelled out. She stood on the stage, nervously playing with the hem of her skirt. Above her, a banner read “Foxfire’s 19th Annual Spelling Bee” in maroon letters. Across from her, in a competition chair of his own, stood a dark-haired boy with the prettiest eyes Sophie had ever seen. His lips were pursed in an obvious attempt at refraining from scowling as the announcer’s voice blared from the speakers.
“That is correct!” the MC, Bronte, boomed. “And with that, Sophie Foster officially wins Foxfire’s 19th Annual Spelling Bee.”
Sophie beamed as the crowd broke out into applause. She was scanning the audience for her parents when she heard a heavily-accented voice from behind her.
“Congratulations.” It was the boy from the finals round, his face flushed with adrenaline and a touch of annoyance. “That was impressive,” he told her, flashing her a smile.
Sophie felt her face heat up, trying to ignore the fact that he was even more attractive up close. “Thanks,” she mumbled, not quite meeting his teal eyes.
“Sophie, right? I’m Fitz, Fitz Vacker,” he said, extending one hand out. She took it, feeling her cheeks redden even more as she made contact with him. She had seen him around her high school. He was in a grade or two above her, and from what she could tell, he was popular. And she was pretty sure he modelled, too.
Not to mention.. “Wait- Fitz Vacker, as in four-year spelling bee champion?”
“That’d be me. I can’t lie, I’m a little vexed at being beaten, especially by a student younger than me, but congratulations nonetheless. I’m sure you’ll do a great job representing the school at nationals.” His tone was laidback, confident.
Sophie started. “Nationals?”
“Well, yeah,” he smiled. “You got first in the school, which means you’re going to nationals.”
“Oh,” was all Sophie had to say. She hadn’t really thought about what would happen if she got first place. Honestly, she didn’t think she was going to make it past the semi-finals round. Sophie had always been a natural at spelling; languages had always come easy to her. Once the school had found out, they had pressured her into partaking in the school’s spelling bee, and with some encouragement from her parents, Sophie had agreed to participate this year.
“Sophie!” a voice called out, startling her. She turned just in time to be enveloped in a hug by Grady. “Great job, Kiddo! I knew you could do it.”
She laughed. “Thanks, Dad.”
Next to her, Fitz coughed. “Fitz Vacker,” he informed Grady with a polite smile. “The competition who just got his ass handed to him by your daughter.”
Grady laughed. “It would appear so.” Before he could say anything else, Bronte appeared at his side.
Bronte, the MC of the spelling bee, was not unfamiliar to Sophie. He was also a part of the school board, and despite his small stature, he was intimidating.
“Congratulations, Miss Foster,” he said to Sophie, who blushed nervously in return. “In case you weren’t aware, you’ve qualified for the regional spelling bee, which means you’re competing with other nearby schools. It may seem early to be mentioning, but I assure you, you should already be practicing.” Bronte didn’t speak unkindly, but there was an attitude to his voice that put Sophie on edge. Upon noticing Fitz’s presence, he continued. “Actually, Mr. Vacker has done exceedingly well, and has made it to nationals himself several times. I’m sure he can help you.”
“Oh, uh, I-“ Sophie stammered.
“I’d love to,” Fitz replied with a charming smile. “I think Sophie could actually teach me a few things,” he said, throwing a glance Sophie’s way. “That is, if she’s okay with it.”
Sophie felt small under the stares of Grady, Bronte, and Fitz. “Um yeah, I guess so?” she replied, resisting the temptation to tug out an itchy eyelash.
“It’s settled then,” Bronte declared with a nod. “I’m sure the two of you can figure out a schedule that works for the both of you.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left.
Sophie knew her discomfort was obvious in the bright colour of her cheeks. Fitz Vacker, popular model and spelling bee champion, was going to help her train? “So, uh…” she started, looking towards Fitz. “You don’t have to help me, I’ll be fine on my own.”
Fitz smiled, something Sophie didn’t realize she liked until he did it again. “I’m sure that’s true, but I really don’t mind. Here, give me your number and we can talk later to figure out a schedule.”
“Oh, uh, sure,” she stammered. She hastily entered her name and number into his phone. “Okay, great! See you around?”
“Sounds great.” He smiled at her once more before disappearing into the crowd.
tag list: @dragonwinnie-kotlc @steppingonshatteredglass @sophitz-week @enbies-and-felonies
(Written as a Christmas gift as @/jadenightthewriter’s Secret Santa)
Pairing: Kam, (Marellinh)
Word Count: 2689
TW: fire (also a lack of a creative title)
Keefe ducked, barely dodging a sharp object that flew towards him from somewhere to his right. He whirled around to see a boy in a thick black cloak taking cover behind a tree. Keefe pulled a throwing star of his own from out of his tunic pocket and raised it hesitantly.
The Neverseen had decided to launch their newest attack on the gnomes, meaning the battle right now was taking place in a clearing surrounded by dense forest in the gnomes territory. In the midst of the fighting, Keefe had seen a flash of a Neverseen armband taking off towards the cover of the trees and he had chased after it without a second thought.
Keefe had ran after it for a few minutes, going deeper into the forest, following the flashes of black and silver. Now, he turned his attention to the boy he had been following, the one who had just launched a throwing star at Keefe’s head, the one who’s black cloak was visible from 15 or so metres away.
The forest was dense, a thick grove of green trees and brown trunks. Their branches were still and no leaves rustled. Keefe couldn’t even hear the sounds of birds chirping. The whole forest was unsettlingly quiet, as if it was holding its breath.
The boy shifted and launched a dark beam of something directly at Keefe’s chest. It looked like a shadow or a splash of ink. Whatever it was, Keefe sensed it was something fatal and jumped behind a trunk of a tree. Not as smoothly as he’d like to admit, he levitated himself to the top, settling on one of the highest branches. From here he had a better look at the boy. Keefe had never seen him before; he must have been a new recruit. He looked about Keefe’s age, with dark hair and silver-tipped bangs that reminded him of Linh’s. The hem of his cloak dragged in the dirt as he scanned the forest, failing to notice that Keefe was perched in a tree above him.
“Where did you go?” the dark-haired boy muttered angrily.
Keefe was certain that the boy would attack as soon as he saw him. From his position in the tree, Keefe had the perfect opportunity to take the boy by surprise, but found himself hesitating. Instead, he leaned forward to get a better look, but he must have leaned over too far because the next thing he knew, he was falling through the air, feeling branches whip at his face before he landed on the forest ground with a thump, right at the Neverseen boy’s feet.
Keefe groaned, his face stinging and his back throbbing, and as his vision cleared he was met with a pair of silver-blue eyes. The boy raised his hands, summoning another black shadow-thing.
“Wait, don’t!” Keefe cried out, jumping to his feet. As he stood up, his vision darkened for a moment, spots dancing in front of his eyes. But instead of attacking him, Keefe’s enemy only looked at him curiously.
“You’re Keefe Sencen, aren’t you?” the boy asked in a low voice.
Keefe nodded, unsure as to why this boy in a Neverseen cloak, who had been trying to kill him moments ago, had paused. “That’s me. The one and only. What about you? I haven’t seen you before. And… you’re young. Is Mother Dearest recruiting kids to join her creepy cult now?”
The other boy was silent, his arms now crossed against his chest. Leaning on the trunk of a tree for support, Keefe realized just how deep in the forest they had ventured; he couldn’t even hear the sounds of the battle. He reached up and brushed a few leaves out of his hair as he turned his attention back to the boy in front of him, who looked torn. “Uh, Bangs Boy? Are you gonna kill me, or...?
Bangs Boy glared. “Don’t call me that.”
“Well, what’s your name?” Keefe asked again, but was only met with silence and a sharp stare. “Bangs Boy it is,” he decided.
“I should kill you,” he told Keefe, “but I was told that you were wanted alive.” However, instead of grabbing Keefe or knocking him out, Bangs Boy took a step back, crushing the grass below his feet.
Just then, Keefe heard footsteps running toward them. Before he could tell who it was, a flash of bright light blinded him. When the light faded, the Neverseen boy was trapped in a dome of light next to Maruca, who was a little out of breath but looked proud of herself nonetheless.
“What’s… going on? “Who’s... that?” she panted, pointing at Bangs Boy.
“That’s Bangs Boy!” Keefe declared, receiving a glare from the prisoner.
Maruca’s turquoise eyes sparkled as she surveyed the scene. Although she wasn’t officially part of the Black Swan, she had accompanied them to a few battles, on accident for the most part. But no one could deny that her ability as a Psionipath had come in handy more than once, though she had yet to go up against Ruy Ignis.
“That’s not my name,” Bangs Boy growled from inside his prison of light. His silver-blue eyes met Keefe’s, full of annoyance, but surprisingly enough, not murder.
“Well then, what is it?” Maruca demanded, placing her hands on her hips.
Bangs Boy sighed. “It’s Tam,” he told her. “Tam Song”.
~*~
Voices overlapped one another as Keefe surveyed the busy room. He was at a Peace Summit with Linh, Marella, Dex, and Tiergan on official Black Swan business. There was a rumour that the Neverseen planned causing another scene. The Peace Summit brought up some bad memories, bad enough that Sophie and Mr. Forkle both refused to attend and left Keefe feeling like he was suffocating in his suit.
“Wow, this place sure is crowded,” Marella spoke up. Her blonde hair had been pulled into a bun and her red dress complemented her shoulders. Her fingers were intertwined with a girl whose shimmery blue dress and silver-tipped hair showed off just how pretty she was. Linh held on to Marella’s hand as though it was the only thing keeping her steady, looking as nervous as everyone else felt.
“All these elves in sparkly clothing are giving me a headache,” Marella complained.
“Wow, you sound just like Ro,” Keefe told her, bumping her shoulder lightly. “Speaking of which, where are the ogres? And all the other species?”
“The rest of the Intelligent Species will arrive in the morning,” Tiergan told them. He picked up a glass of lushberry juice from a table next to him and took a sip, motioning for the others to do the same.
Keefe, however, was looking at something across the hall. “I’ll be right back,” he told the others.
He started weaving through the crowds of people, eyes focused on someone who seemed very interested in the glass of lushberry juice in their hand. They looked up and met Keefe’s eyes, a variety of emotions passing over their face before they turned away and left the room.
Keefe followed them into the empty hallway, the noise from the ballroom fading as he turned the corner.
“We can’t be seen together,” Tam Song hissed.
“Nice to see you too, Bangs Boy,” Keefe responded. Oh, how he had missed this pair of silver-blue eyes, not that he would ever admit it.
“Seriously, Keefe.”
Keefe smirked. “What, scared to be caught fraternizing with the enemy?”
“No, that’s not- I’m- we’re not-” Tam spluttered. He was wearing a black suit, the colour of the tie matching his eyes perfectly. His silver-tipped bangs were longer now, falling in his eyes, and Tam brushed them away exasperatedly. “We can’t be seen together,” he repeated. “You know that.”
“Well them, I guess it’s a good thing there’s nobody else in this empty hallway,” Keefe responded lightly.
“Keefe.”
He sighed. “I know. You’re… you’re the enemy.”
A shadow crossed Tam’s face. “I always have been. I always will be,” he whispered.
“Speaking of that,” Keefe cleared his throat. “Are you guys… are the Neverseen actually planning on blowing this place up again?”
Tam couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Bangs Boy?”
“Don’t call me that,” Tam snapped. “And you know I can’t tell you that.” He paused. “You should leave.”
“Tam-”
“I should leave.” Keefe had heard these words many times over that past year, ever since he had met Tam that first time in the forest. But no matter how many times he heard them, they hurt just the same. “Tam,” he tried again.
“No.” Tam’s voice was sharp. “We’re enemies, Keefe. It’s black and white. I’m with the Neverseen, you’re with the Black Swan. Whatever this is,” he gestured to the two of them, ”it can’t happen. We can’t be friends.”
“We’re enemies,” Keefe echoed softly.
“Exactly.” Tam told him, though Keefe swore he heard a tremor in the dark-haired boy’s voice. “Goodbye, Keefe.”
“Until next time, Bangs Boy,” Keefe responded softly, but Tam was already gone.
~*~
“Do you think it's a good idea?” Marella asked. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, weaving the dark strands of Linh’s hair into a long braid. Linh looked the most at-peace she had been in days, ever since she had found out that her long-lost twin brother had joined the Neverseen. When Keefe had finally informed the Black Swan of the Neverseen’s new recruit, Linh had promptly fainted. She hadn't spoken for days afterwards, and when she did it was never in a voice louder than a whisper. The only thing that seemed to be keeping her from breaking down permanently was her girlfriend, who was currently braiding her hair.
“I don’t know,” Keefe replied, spinning around in the chair at Marella’s desk. “The Neverseen are unpredictable. But I think we can pretty much guarantee that they’re not going to hold up their end of the bargain.
They were currently debating the reliability of the Black Swan’s new plan. The Neverseen had managed to capture the baby alicorn twins, Luna and Wynn, and were holding them hostage. They had sent a message to the Council and the Black Swan announcing that the alicorns would only be released in exchange for all of the councillor’s caches.
“I, for one, think it’s a stupid idea. There’s gotta be a better way! The Neverseen aren’t that gullible. And I would say that neither are we, but since we’re actually considering this, I’d say we are!” Marella scowled.
“I know. But just because the Neverseen keep outsmarting us doesn't mean that they will this time. Plus, we’re stronger now,“ Keefe told her. “We’ve been training for months. If it comes to a head-to-head battle, which it probably will, we could win.”
“Could!” Marella repeated. “Could. I don’t like our chances. Especially because they plan on sending me. What if I mess up? What if the Council finds out I’m a Pyrokinetic?” Her voice trembled slightly on the last word.
“I’ll be there,” Linh spoke, her voice barely a whisper. She reached a hand up and placed it on one of Marella’s, pausing the other girl’s intense braiding.
Marella softened at her girlfriend’s touch. “I know. But that almost makes it worse? What if I hurt you? I want to be there. I want to burn that stupid smug look off Fintan’s face. I want to help. But now that I finally can… what if I hurt one of us?”
Linh turned her head to the side as best she could, her silver eyes meeting Marella’s ice blue ones. “You won’t. Like Keefe said, you’ve trained. We’ve all trained. You the most. I know you can do it, even if it’s scary. Because with all this? It’s always scary. But I believe in you. I believe in all of us. We’re gonna stop the Neverseen. Maybe we can even… get him back. There’s no other outcome, okay?”
Linh, as broken as she was, was still able to give a pep talk. And it really seemed to have helped Marella. The two of them balanced each other out, both ability- and personality-wise. Linh was calm and optimistic, gentle yet a force to be reckoned with. She was the only one who could soothe Marella’s stubbornness and impulsivity, and Marella was always capable of helping Linh come out of her shell and find her voice.
Keefe watched the two of them, Linh’s silver-blue eyes and dark hair reminding him of the all-too-familiar boy he was always trying to get out of his head. Thinking of Tam brought him back to the situation at hand and he cleared his throat, hating to disrupt the moment but knowing it was necessary. “So,” he said, “are we going through with this? I know it feels like the same thing we’ve done time and time again, but I think we’ll come out victorious this time. After all, a bunch of wrongs have to make a right, don’t they?”
“I hope so,” Marella sighed, tying the final elastic around the end of Linh’s braid. “I guess we’ll find out!”
~*~
No.
No.
“No!” Keefe didn't realize he was screaming it. He stumbled forward blindly, tripping on something and landing hard on his hands and knees.
The trees were on fire. Smoke filled the air, settling in Keefe’s lungs with every breath and making it hard to breathe, coating the leaves and making it hard to see. He couldn’t make out anything in the thick smoke, unable to see his friends or Wynn. This plan, too, had gone awry. In the end, neither side had fulfilled their promise. The caches were fake and only Wynn had been returned, his wings broken.
Marella and Fintan had gone toe-to-toe, both incredibly powerful but neither of them fully in control. They had set fire to the trees one by one until it seemed as though the whole world was burning.
The last Keefe had seen of any of his friends was Linh desperately attempting to douse the flames, and Maruca trapped under one of Ruy’s shields. He could’ve sworn he saw Lady Gisela’s face amid the chaos, the right side of her face scratched and bleeding.
“Keefe!” someone called. Coughing, Keefe stumbled towards the voice. The smoke in the air lessened as Keefe walked into a clearing, the trees around him still green. He turned around, eyes watering, and came face-to-face with a pair of silver-blue eyes.
“Tam,” he breathed. “You’re okay?”
Tam stood before him, the Neverseen cloak on his shoulders untouched but revealing the clothing underneath to be burned. Ash coated his face and hair, dulling the appearance of the silver tipped bangs that were long enough to fall past his eyes and making his silver-blue eyes look even more bold.
“I am,” he spoke roughly but not unkindly.
“Was that a note of relief I heard in your voice just now?” Keefe asked, attempting a smirk.
Tam glared at him.
“Probably not the most appropriate time, huh? Sorry. But for the record, I’m glad you’re not dead either.” Keefe told him.
“I’m supposed to kill you,” Tam said, unable to meet Keefe’s eyes. “For the past year, that’s what Lady Gisela’s been telling me before each battle. I’m supposed to kill you, Keefe. Because we’re enemies.”
“I know, Bangs Boy. That’s what you tell me every time we cross paths.” Keefe ran a hand through his hair, his palm coming away even more black than it was before.
“I can’t,” Tam whispered. “I can’t do it.” He looked up, tear lines trailing down his face and through the layer of ash on his cheeks.
Surprised, Keefe noticed his own eyes were wet. He heard the crackle of flames and felt the warmth as the fire surrounded the clearing. “This is the end, isn’t it? No matter the outcome, it’s the end of this, of us, of all of it.”
Tam nodded. “It’s the end,” he echoed. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
In the clearing, the two boys faced each other. Enemies. They were doomed from the very beginning. Born on opposite sides of a war, their fate was already determined. Through a layer of smoke, ice blue eyes met silver ones, their gazes never wavering. And around them, the world burned.
tag list: @dragonwinnie-kotlc <3
@beautifuldaysahead hey Beau I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be tagged for all my fics or just my fitzphie ones?
Red. Red is vivid. It’s anger, it’s hurt, it’s passion. It’s the colour you see when you scream into your pillow. It’s the colour you see when you dig your nails into your palms. It’s like fire; bright and burning, and in the moment it fills you with warmth, but with it’s absence it leaves nothing but a cold feeling in its wake. It always starts off bright, so hot you could explode, and slowly fades over time. But it never disappears, constantly lingering around your edges, threatening at any moment to unravel and fill you up with it’s intensity. That is red.
Yellow. Yellow is bright. It’s happy, it's brilliant, it’s warm. It’s not the intense heat of red, but rather a calm warmth. It’s the colour you see when sunlight touches your skin. It’s the colour you see when you watch the sunrise. It’s the colour you see when your friend smiles at you, and when the two of you link arms, the colour yellow threatens to consume you, but that’s not a bad thing. Yellow floats along, waiting for you to reach up and grab it. It’s easy for it to get lost amongst the reds and blues, but yellow is always there, waiting for the times you decide to wrap it around you like a blanket. That is yellow.
Green. Green is life. It’s strong, it’s humble, it’s comforting. It’s the smell of fresh dirt. It’s the colour you see in the morning, when the sun is just peaking over the dawn and there’s just a touch of night to the sky. It’s the colour you see when a layer of fog and mist touches the world, uniting the earth and the sky. It’s the colour of your breath when you inhale and exhale. It’s the calm knowledge that we will all surrender to the darkest parts of green and fade into the earth, never breathing, but never gone. That is green.
Blue. Blue is powerful. It’s sad, it’s consuming, it’s painful. It’s the colour you see when the tears roll down your cheeks. And tears? They’re blue and salty, just like the unknown waters of the ocean. It’s the colour you see when you lock eyes with a friend and they turn away. It’s the colour that haunts every “goodbye.” It’s the colour that threatens to consume you, pulling you deep below the surface and watching you drown. It leaves you torn, confused, hurt. It leaves you aching and raw and bruised. It’s not harsh, not edges and lines. It’s curves, waves, soft to the touch, but intense. It’s bittersweet, because you have to know this kind of emptiness to feel the full effects of happiness. It’s the colour of balance, of peace, of calm, yet it is also the colour of waves crashing on the beach, the hurt you always carry with you underneath it all. That is blue.
Purple. Purple is confidence. It’s exhilarating, it’s daring, it’s bold. It’s the colour you see in the bright lights of a party. It’s the colour you see with a rush of adrenaline when you do something reckless. It’s the colour that lingers around you when your favourite playlist blares through your earbuds. It’s the colour that touches every smug smile. It’s the colour you see every time you lift your chin a little higher, stand a little straighter, talk a little louder. It’s the colour in every victory you win, every obstacle you face, every accomplishment you achieve. It’s pride, almost, but more reckless, more desiring. That is purple.
Pink. Pink is love. It’s sweet, it’s pleasant, it’s uplifting. It’s the colour you see when someone remembers an obscure fact about you. It’s the colour that you see when your pet chases a ball or blocks your computer screen. It’s the colour you see when you embrace a sibling, and it’s the colour shared with knowing looks between two friends. It’s the colour you see when you brush hands with the someone next to you. It’s the shy glances, the warm hugs, the sparkle in someone’s eyes. It’s the colour you see in the sunset, when the sky is alive with pastel hues. It’s the colour of flower petals, of icing. It’s the colour that heats your cheeks and blooms in your heart. That is pink.
Okay okay I know there’s often a lot of arguing when it comes to Fitzphie. But this is what was kept the words flowing, and I feel like sometimes we miss out on the potential for fanfic writing when it comes to this pairing, because in my opinion, there’s definitely some. Anyways, please don’t judge! <3
Pairing: Fitzphie/Sofitz
Word Count: 659
TW: other than my probable misuse of lie/lay, none, I think! It’s really just a bunch of fluff
Sophie took a deep breath in, taking in the moment. Above her, the sky stretched out, an endless expanse of space and darkness dotted with twinkling stars. A warm breeze flitted across her face, ruffling her hair and the blanket below her. She shifted her gaze from the night sky to a pair of teal eyes that always took her breath away.
Okay okay I know there's often a lot of arguing when it comes to Fitzphie. But this is what was kept the words flowing, and I feel like sometimes we miss out on the potential for fanfic writing when it comes to this pairing, because in my opinion, there’s definitely some. Anyways, please don't judge! <3
Pairing: Fitzphie/Sofitz
Word Count: 659
TW: other than my probable misuse of lie/lay, none, I think! It’s really just a bunch of fluff
Sophie took a deep breath in, taking in the moment. Above her, the sky stretched out, an endless expanse of space and darkness dotted with twinkling stars. A warm breeze flitted across her face, ruffling her hair and the blanket below her. She shifted her gaze from the night sky to a pair of teal eyes that always took her breath away.
Fitz’s fingers were intertwined with hers, both of their cheeks tinted pink. Sophie’s other hand rested on her stomach, feeling it filled with fluttering butterflies. For once she didn’t mind the feeling; it made her feel alive and in the moment. The only sounds she could hear were crickets chirping and Fitz’s soft breathing next to her.
She had been the one to mention stargazing, but FItz was the one who had surprised her tonight, ambushing her with an adorable smile and a huge pile of blankets and pillows.
They lied under the Panakes tree, petals falling softly around them. One landed in her hair and Fitz reached over to brush it out, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Her face burned even hotter, something she didn’t think was possible.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. Now her cheeks were practically on fire and she removed her hand from her stomach to reach up and place a cold hand on them, attempting to lessen the heat radiating off her face. She was thankful for the darkness and the cool breeze.
Fitz gave a soft laugh. The two of them lied on their sides for a moment before Fitz settled onto his back. Sophie followed suit, angling her head so it was resting on his shoulder. Their legs were pressed together, and Sophie’s mind zoned in on the slight pressure.
Sophie shivered as a cold wind blew through her hair, goosebumps breaking out on her bare arms.
“Are you cold?” Fitz asked.
Sophie gave a small nod. “Maybe a little,” she admitted.
“Here,” Fitz told her, untangling his hand from hers and sitting up. He unclasped his cloak, motioning for her to sit up.
She did, protesting once she realized what he was doing. “That’s not neces-” she was cut off as he draped the thick fabric over her shoulders, still warm from his body heat. “Oh,” she said softly. The effect was immediate as the warmth enveloped her.
He smiled, and it only amplified the warmth, but this time she felt it in her chest. “Better?”
“Yeah,” she responded. “Thanks”.
The two of them returned to their earlier positions, lying on their backs, and this time it was Sophie who reached for his hand first. He obliged, twining their fingers with a small squeeze.
“I…” he started.
“Yeah?” Sophie prompted when he didn’t continue.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he told her softly. “I… I want it to be you. I do, I really do.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, of course. I want it to be you, Sophie. No matter what happens. I know that right now, everything is crazy and messy and confusing. But I want you to know that no matter what happens, I’ll always be here at the end of the day. And… I want it to be you. I want it to be you when I dance at my Winnowing Gala. I want it to be you in my life everyday. I want it to be you who I explore my life with. I want it to be you at my side through all the ups and downs. I want it to be you, Sophie Foster.”
Sophie was pretty sure she was crying, but she didn’t care. “I want it to be you, too, Fitz.”
Sophie looked up into the night sky. She could hear crickets chirping and felt a cool breeze as she lied there wrapped in his thick cloak. And with Fitz’s hand in hers, she knew that no matter what life threw at her next, she would be okay.
“No!” Sophie screamed, her voice breaking as she lunged for him, catching him just before he hit the ground. “Keefe!”
His inhale was more of a gasp as he collapsed in Sophie’s arms. Keefe’s hands reached for the large throwing star in his side, covering his tunic in red. She sunk to the floor, his head resting on her lap. The sounds of the battle around them faded away, all of her attention focused on the beautiful blond boy in her arms that was slipping away from her.
“Oh my god, Keefe. No, no no no no.” Sophie fumbled for the stash of Panakes blossoms hidden in her cloak. She grabbed a handful and tried to place them in Keefe’s mouth.
“It’s too late for that, Foster,” Keefe told her, his voice barely even a whisper. Blood was everywhere, soaking his and Sophie’s clothes. “I should have known it would’ve been my Mother Dearest. I could never live up to the legacy she had planned for me,” he smiled a sad, pained smile.
“No, Keefe! It’s not too late, it can’t be,” she responded, frantically undoing her cloak and pressing it to the wound. She couldn’t take the throwing star out because that would just make him lose more blood, but she could do her best to stop the bleeding. “Stay with me!” she pleaded as his eyelids fluttered. “I won’t lose you,” she sobbed. “I can’t.”
“I’m sorry, Foster.” He glanced up at her brown eyes, pouring every last ounce of his energy into his voice as he murmured a soft “I love you, Sophie.” With that, his body went slack, his eyes glazing over before shutting for the last time.
“Keefe? Keefe! No!” she sobbed into his chest, which was no longer rising and falling.
Everyone in a 20-foot radius dropped to the ground, overcome with an overwhelming grief as Sophie’s emotions poured out of her. Another Neverseen battle, another loss. In the midst of all the chaos, Lady Gisela had thrown a large throwing star at Keefe, hitting him solidly on his right side.
“Stay with me,” Sophie whispered into Keefe's chest, her voice muffled. “Stay with me.”
Biana smiled as she reached for her imparter, Dex’s name flashing on its small screen.
“Hey Dex, what’s up?” she asked him, feeling her cheeks warm. She reached for a strand of hair absent-mindedly, twirling it around her finger.
“So I know it’s kinda late, but Sophie was telling me about this human thing, cookies? She said they’re pretty easy to make and taste delicious. Anyways, she gave me a recipe, and uh, I was wondering if you wanted to make them with me? Sometime, or like, now, even? My dad has all the ingredients,” he told her in a rush, his cheeks turning the same colour as his hair.
“I’d love to!” Biana beamed. “Did you want to come over? Or could I go to your place?” she asked him. She didn’t mind the chaos of the triplets; the Diznee household was always lively, but it was comfortable, unlike her own house sometimes.
“Sure!” he replied. “Leap over in 10?”
“Awesome!”
- - - -
“Ugh, why is this so hard?” Biana grumbled as she pulled their fifth batch of cookies from the oven. This batch was too burnt to eat, but Dex still grabbed one once they had cooled down. He made a face as he took a bite, and Biana laughed.
“I actually think this is our best batch so far!” he grinned, wiping cookie crumbs off his face with the back of his hand. “I mean, they’re a little burnt, yeah, but they don’t taste super gross!’
Curious, Biana grabbed a cookie off the tray and sampled it. She spit it out almost immediately. ‘What do you mean, they don’t taste gross?!” she demanded.
Dex smiled, snatching the cookie from Biana’s hand. “Eh, I like them.”
Biana pouted. “Should we try one last time?” she asked him, dumping the batch into the garbage, which was filled with their other failed attempts.
“Why not?” Dex reached for the flour, but accidentally knocked it over and sent a large cloud of flour into the air that settled over Biana’s face and hair. “Oops!”
Biana turned to him. “Dexter Alvin Diznee! How dare you?!” Biana tried to dust herself off, but quickly realized her attempts were futile, as she only succeeded in spreading more flour in her hair.
Dex took one look at her and doubled over, laughing. He was interrupted by a puff of flour exploding in his face.
Biana smirked at him.
“Hey!” he complained, “it was an accident!”
Biana giggled, and Dex joined in, scooping up a handful of flour and throwing it at her face.
She gasped before retaliating, and soon it became an all-out flour war.
Eventually, their laughter died down as they surveyed the room. The two of them were dusted head-to-toe in flour, and so was the rest of the kitchen.
“So much for batch number six,” Biana commented, tugging on Dex’s sleeve as she searched for some paper towel. “We’d better clean up!”
“Alright,” he agreed, sighing.
- - - -
15 minutes later, the kitchen was relatively flour-free. Dex reached up to dust some flour out of Biana’s hair. She gently grabbed his hand and interlocked her fingers with his. “This was fun,” she told him softly. “Thanks.”
“It was, wasn’t it? And even though the cookies didn’t turn out so well,” he said, smiling as Biana giggled, “we could always try again!”
