When I was six years old, I met a girl. I remember very little about her. Not even her name. It started with a C, I think. Cynthia? I don't remember.
I do remember: We went to summer camp together, the summer before first grade.
I do remember: There was a pool we went to, and age restrictions on how deep you were allowed to go. When no one was looking, she and I snuck into the deep end. One of us, or maybe both, lost our footing. In retrospect, we would have been perfectly fine, but at the time I thought I was about to drown. I grabbed onto her. I was scared and disoriented, and I found my way back to her.
I do remember: That summer, I had a lot of dental work done. As one can imagine, that wasn't pleasant. But I would come back to camp from the dentist, gums sore, and she would make me smile. We would eat sugar cookies and make each other laugh, and for a moment I could forget about my pain.
I do remember: I left the camp for a week to go on vacation, and told my relatives all about her.
I do remember: She liked to draw. And she was good at it, or as good as a six year old could be anyway. Better than me. She tried to teach me how she drew in her cartoon style, and that was how I drew for years. Even after we fell out of touch.
I do remember: When the school year started, we took swimming lessons together once a week. We weren't as close, but I still liked her.
I do remember: On Valentine's Day, I gave her a card. I was in first grade, and I had to give everyone in my class a card. But hers? Hers was a choice. Hers was special. I wrote a poem. Nothing good, of course. It was something like "roses are red, violets are blue, cookies are sweet, and so are you."
I do remember: She was my first crush, even if I didn't know it at the time. I didn't know the name for it at the time, I wasn't sure I needed one. I didn't have a word, but I had her, and wasn't that good enough?
Things were so much easier, then, compared to my second crush. There was no late-night googling "am i gay quiz." There was no choking on the words as I tried to tell my parents. No worrying about all my friends hating me.
Just us.
I don't remember much about her, but I remember her fondly. I remember how it felt, to have a crush on a girl, but without all the hate and fear and guilt. Just happiness.
Summary: Sophie the human was dead and gone. Sophie now missed her.
On the doorstep of her old house, she placed a rock and a bouquet of flowers.
(Sophie visits her old house and grieves the child that she used to be)
Lyrics from: Flowers On The Grave, by The Maine
Word count: 2481
Content warnings: cursing, PTSD, death, ask to add more
@if-only-wishes-were-answered
Read on AO3
Feel the moment all around you
And the quiet that surrounds yo u
Sophie Foster is seventy four years old, and the Neverseen is long gone. (The nightmares aren't.) She looks older now than in the textbook pictures for Elvin History classes, about her time fighting for the Black Swan, but younger than you'd expect a seventy four year old to look. Sometimes she feels younger than seventy four too; sometimes she feels older.
Memories are... hard for her. She doesn't like thinking about them. Sometimes she could swear it all happened to her yesterday. Sometimes she feels so disconnected to her teenage years that it feels like nothing more than reading about another Sophie Foster in that textbook.
She goes to the human world a lot. It changed a lot while she was gone. That was oddly comforting. The stillness of the Lost Cities could feel suffocating at times. And it was nice to in a place where no one recognized her, where she was just a random woman walking down the street. Where no one came up and asked her what it was like to nearly die in a fire a hundred times over, to have your teenage years stripped away by two rebel groups and an incompetent government. What it was like to win.
(She never told them the truth; how do you tell the world you saved that it wasn't really worth the effort?)
But she was anonymous here, and it was quiet. Quiet from the clamoring elves and constant questions and the memories screaming at her every time she turned her head. It was... nice.
The time you have is sacred
Don't wait around and waste it
They can't take that away from you
When it was finally over, when she just wanted to lie down and sleep until she forgot, the rest of the world wouldn't leave her alone. She had all the time in the world to get better but they wanted her to exist for them.
Well, fuck that. She didn't exist for them at all anymore.
The world wanted to know what Sophie Foster would do next.
She would mourn. She mourned. She mourned everyone she lost in the war, and most of all, she cried for herself. Not even eighteen and she'd seen so many of her friends die, come so close to death herself. She'd been used in a war she never wanted to fight, and she'd suffered through it anyway. And now she was hero for a world she never wanted to be a part of.
And after she mourned, she would... what? Become a councillor? Lead the Black Swan to work with the Council from an outside perspective? Diplomat to the goblins? Leader of the newly rebuilt Human Assistance Program? Ensure peaceful resolutions to all of the Lost Cities' problems?
Nothing. She would do none of that. Sophie went to work at the sanctuary. She liked animals. She liked peace. She liked not nearly dying.
The rest of the world wanted her to continue being a hero, and she was done with that. She wanted her time to belong to herself again, not let the Council and the Black Swan and the Neverseen and the whole damn elvin population take that away from her.
Everything is temporary
Even the sorrow that you carry
Sophie hadn't thought she'd live long enough to experience that indefinite life span of an elf. Someone tried to kill her every few weeks. Statistically, they'd succeed eventually, right? No future of any kind had seemed like a possibility for her. But she clawed her way through seventy four years, and with the Neverseen gone, Council mostly staying out of her way, and Keefe following in his adoptive father's footsteps to be an equally overprotective healer, Sophie thought herself safe for the next year.
And the year after that.
And all the years after that.
Everything that hurt now would be over eventually. The pain would have to fade in a thousand years or so. It couldn't last forever. Sophie could barely comprehend having lived seven decades; how was she supposed conceptualize what it would feel like to do this for millennia? After lifetimes and lifetimes of living, it would feel like the first few lifetimes never happened to her, right?
It would pass.
It was temporary.
So tell me are you okay?
You say you are okay
I'm okay now I'm with you
Her feet carried her to her old house. She visited every time she traveled to the human world; it was second nature at that point. Sophie always lost herself in her head, but her heart knew the way home. Strange to think of it as home, still. Havenfield was home, and so was the house she shared with most of her other still-living friends, but her human house would always be a home to her as well.
This house had given her a funny concept of the word okay. Her parents would ask that a lot, especially with the migranes, but sometimes because she always seemed lonely. For what it was worth, she never felt lonely. With all the voices, other peoples' thoughts echoing in her head, she'd never be lonely. She'd never be lonely. Didn't they understand? But of course, her parents didn't understand. She never told them any of that. She always hid her scars and hid herself, pretended to be a normal human even when she knew she didn't belong.
Whenever they asked if she was okay, she lied. Said she was.
She never was.
But right now? She didn't know. What did okay even mean, anyway? She'd never really have a concept of it. If being okay meant being happy, all the time, then no, she wasn't okay. No one was. But that didn't sound right. Maybe being okay just meant accepting what had happened to her and facing towards the sun. She wasn't happy right now, for sure. But being at her old house, just her and Ella and all the memories, always made her feel a little bit calmer. Consumed by aching melancholy, but she was glad to be home.
Yeah, she was okay.
'Cause you don't plan life, you live it
You don't take love, you give it
She hadn't been, though, not for a very long time. What would she say to her younger self, if they could talk? How would Sophie possibly explain that yeah, actually, you're an elf, and you'll have a fun time in the elvin world for a bit but then this group calls the Neverseen repeatedly tries to kill you? Her life as a human hadn't followed the usual pattern for a kid living in San Fransisco, but at least there had been some kind of plan. School. College. Job. Spouse. Kids. Age. Death.
The plan did not include Elf School, war, mythical animals, aromanticism, looking thirty forever, and living indefinitely. It had been a vague plan at best, but it had been ripped to shreds and tossed in everblaze.
But that was life, wasn't it? It wasn't something Sophie had any control over. It just happened to her. She just reacted to her circumstances. If she could have written her life, it would have gone differently, but someone else held the pen.
At least life had given her people to love. She didn't think she would be here if not for them.
You can't change what is written
So when fate cries, you listen
As much as Sophie wished that all the shit that happened to her could go away, could never have happened in the first place, she couldn't. Couldn't change the way her life had been woven and spilled out across seventy four years. Everything that happened to her as a child was so unfair, so fucking unfair, but it happened. She couldn't change what had happened to her, and she couldn't change what was coming.
She just had to live through it until the storm cleared. After all this time, she would make it.
And flowers on the grave
Of the child that I used to be
Sophie the human was dead and gone. Sophie now missed her.
On the doorstep of her old house, she placed a rock and a bouquet of flowers.
It was summer when you told me
That you loved me by the oak creek
"Sophie?" A tap on her shoulder. Sophie looks up from the peonies.
Amy's older now. She's not an elf, of course she ages. Her brown hair is greying, wrinkles covering the face Sophie could swear is still a young adult, because the image is so clear in her mind. She tries her best to see Amy when she visits the human world. When Amy's son was younger she would babysit for him a lot. Still, it's been a while, and Amy seems to change so much as she ages. Still, she's unmistakably the same Amy Rose Foster.
"Amy! How are you?" Sophie tries her best to smile and look enthusiastic, blinking back the tears that had risen at the thought of the childhood she'd lost.
"Pretty well, thanks. My wife turns seventy in a few weeks, so I'm trying to plan a big party for her. You?"
"I'm alright."
Amy poked Sophie on the shoulder, hard. "Liar!"
"Fine." Sophie stuck out her tongue at her stupid little sister (who looked decades older, but she would always be Sophie's baby sister). "I'm kinda sad."
"Sorry to hear that. Can't believe you lied to me, though. Asshole."
Grinning at her sister, Sophie poked her back. "Nahhh, you love me."
My ears had never heard that
Tongue forgot the words and
Feet forgot the Earth, it's true
Before being an elf, Sophie had never really had the best relationship with her sister. They bickered, of course, like all siblings, but there was always that underlying resentment; Amy for being normal, Sophie for being special. Even when they weren't mad at one another, they never really talked much beyond the mundane. It wasn't Amy's fault that her thoughts were so loud and bright, but being around her was exhausting before Sophie learned to block her Telepathy.
Amy had always just kind of been there. A pest at times, somewhat endearing at times, but they'd never gotten particularly close.
The summer before her senior year (she had been twelve; Amy nine), her family went to a park by an oak creek. Sophie explained to Amy that this was her last year of regular school, and she would go to college the next year. That she might leave home for college.
To her surprise, Amy started to cry. And it wasn't her usual "fake cry so my parents feel bad for me" act, she seemed genuinely sad. And furious. Her small hands clenched into fists, she contorted her face and yelled "But you aren't allowed to leave home!"
The thoughts in Amy's head were a complete mess, her words were genuine. "I'm not?"
"No! You're not allowed to leave, because you're my big sister! And I want you here! And I love you!" Amy stomped her foot.
A wide smile spread across Sophie's face. She spent the better part of her life, and pretty much all of Amy's life, trying to hide away from people so she wouldn't reveal her secret. But she really felt a lot of affection for her younger sister, no matter how bratty she could be sometimes. It really felt like an accomplishment for Amy to say she loved her. Awkwardly, Sophie patted her sister's back. "Hey, it's okay. I'll- um- I'll call you guys all the time. And visit a lot."
I love you too, she wanted to say, but the words seemed to get stuck on her tongue. Maybe even then she knew she would have to leave her sister much longer than a semester of college.
'Cause you don't plan life, you live it
You don't take love, you give it
It seemed almost laughable that she thought she was about to go off to college, instead of to an elf world where she would grow to be the leader of a rebel group fighting a terrorist group and both were fighting the broken government and social norms. Even thinking through the sequence of events in her head made it seem laughable. What kind of ridiculous life was hers?
Still, it was her life. And she was grateful to have let people in.
"I love you too," she said, tongue finally forming the words to give love back to her sister.
You can't change what is written
So when fate cries, you listen
"I kind of wish we got to grow up like normal sisters," Amy said, clearly lost in nostalgia just like Sophie. "I know you were off saving the elves or whatever, but you're also my sister."
"Me too. It was hard living in the human world sometimes, but at least I nearly died only a few times. And none of them were active murder attempts."
Amy grimaced. "Yeah, you had an interesting childhood. Kind of fucked up that the Black Swan took you away so young, right? I mean, you were a child. You didn't need to be involved in a war or whatever. Seriously."
"It sucked," Sophie said, slumping against the wall of her old house. "It sucks."
"Would you change it?" Amy asked. "If you could?"
Sophie thought for a while. "I don't know. I really don't. But I can't change what happened anyway, so no use wondering if I would. I kind of just have to listen to whatever fate has in store for me. And hope like hell that it's better."
And flowers on the grave
Of the child that I used to be
"I bet it will be. It's all temporary, anyway."
"True." Sophie glanced over at the window where her bedroom was. "I kind of wish my childhood was a little less temporary. Before... all of this."
"I mean, adult Sophie is a total badass."
"Damn right I am. But... I don't know. I miss her. The child that I used to be. It's like kid Sophie died and now we only have traumatized elf war criminal Sophie. I miss her the dead Sophie."
Under her breath, Amy began to chant "Yitgadal v'yitkadash..." Sophie joined in for the rest of the mourner's kaddish, then picked a flower up from the grass and lay it next to her earlier bouquet.
"I'm really glad you came," Sophie told her sister. "This would've been a lot harder if you hadn't shown up."
"Anytime, Soph. Love you."
"Love you." Sophie watched Amy head to her car, then took out her own leaping crystal. She took one last glance at her childhood home before returning to her present.
I was on the verge of breaking down
Then you came around
Summary: Fitz's chronic pain is acting up, so Sophie tries to bake the latkes for the start of Chanukkah that night. It does not go well.
Notes: Sophie and Fitz live together, their exact relationship is up to reader interpretation (I think of them as a qpr.) Ey/em Sophie, he/they Fitz, ae/aer Biana. Everyone's Jewish.
Content warnings: Cursing, but I think that's pretty much it?
Read on ao3
Unfortunately, Sophie can't bake. It's not that ey hasn't tried. Eir human father tried to teach em, Edaline tried, every recipe stuck perfectly in eir head, but it never got recreated. Something always went wrong. Why did something always go wrong? The food would burn, or there would be too much of one ingredient, or not enough of an ingredient- even though Sophie double checked all the measurements- or an eggshell would end up in the batter. Eir friends always joked that eventually, they would all find something Sophie was bad at- and apparently, that something was baking.
Fortunately, Fitz Vacker knew how to bake, and he knew how to bake well. Sophie had no idea how they took all those ingredients that were weird and gross individually and then combined it into yet another Chanukkah miracle, but they managed it. Somehow. So if Sophie started craving something delicious, Fitz was more than happy to bake it for em.
And then steal half eir serving, but ey loved him anyway.
Unfortunately, his chronic pain was being extremely anti-semetic and flaring up the day Chanukkah started. They tried to insist on doing all the baking anyway, but Sophie insisted the dumbass lie down before they hurt themself. Ey insisted ey could handle it, he just needed to rest.
Ey could not handle it.
Okay, so ey polished the menorah well enough- how did the thing accumulate so much wax, anyway?- and get the necessary candles. And then ey stole gelt from Biana got more gelt than seemed wise, but would taste so fucking good. Dreidels were set out, fuzzy socks with alicorns were wrapped, and everything was set in place.
Everything except the food that was both Sophie's best friend and worst enemy. A joy to eat. A horror to bake.
Latkes.
It seemed easy enough, right? Grate the potatoes, soak them, fry them, eat them. Simple. Delicious.
Somehow still too complicated for Sophie Foster.
Ey wrung the potato mixture out after they finished soaking. Then put them in a bowl to add the other ingredients. Then started frying them in the skillet. For once, ey was confident in eir abilities.
And then the confidence fell apart. Along with the latkes.
Why were the latkes falling apart!? Why the fuck where the latkes falling apart!?
"Motherfucking shit," Sophie yelled, staring hopelessly at the mess before em. "Dammit, dammit-"
Fitz would not be happy. Ey wanted to give them the best Chanukkah ever, wanted to handle everything emself so he didn't have to be stressed, but of course ey fucked it up.
Ey glared at the latkes as though they had intentionally sabotaged em.
"Soph!" ey heard from upstairs. Right. Eir yelling might not have been the most comforting thing.
"I'm fine!" Sophie called back. Paused. "The latkes aren't."
Ey sent another scathing look before turning off the stove and dumping the disaster in the trash. Ey saved the fucking world! Why couldn't ey make a damn latke? Furiously, ey kicked the wall, but that accomplished nothing other than hurting eir foot. With a huff, Sophie hopped upstairs.
"Sorry, Fitz. Sorry. The latkes totally refused to stay in one piece, I don't think I could even really call them latkes. Potato mush."
"You probably didn't dry them off well enough. You always have to wring it out more times than you think you do."
"Oh." Well, great. That's what ey fucked up. Just great. "Sorry."
"Hey, it's all good. At least you didn't set the kitchen on fire."
"Wow, you sure had a lot of faith in me."
They looked em in the eye. "Sophie, I love you, but you cannot bake."
"Yeah, I know," ey sighed.
"Do you want to call Biana and Maruca and see if they're willing to come over for dinner? Maruca makes pretty good latkes, we can just eat hers. I mean, sure, Bi's probably gonna beat us at dreidal, but if we chea-uh, try really hard, I'm sure we can beat aer."
Sophie cracked a smile. It was a well accepted fact that no one would ever beat Biana. "Okay, that sounds good."
Sure enough, Biana won at dreidal. But Fitz loved his new fuzzy socks, and Sophie loved Maruca's latkes, and by the end, ey felt pretty fortunate to have had a good first night of Chanukkah.
