Is that CAMILA MORRONE? No, thatâs just FIADH SOSA. They were born on 20/04/1992 and are a SHADOW ELF living in Northknot Town. They work as a INFLUENCER/BRAND CONSULTANT. Some say they're CHARMING and CREATIVE, but Iâve heard others say they're ATTENTION-SEEKING and IMPULSIVE. When you think of HER, donât you think of THE SOFT ACHE OF CHILDHOOD VLOGS FILLED WITH EMPTY HALLWAYS, SHADOWS CURLING LIKE LOYAL PETS AT HER ANKLES & SORORITY LETTERS PINNED TO A VINTAGE DENIM JACKET SHE NEVER RETURNED?
Name: Fiadh Maristella Sosa Pronunciation: FEE-uh Mah-rih-STELL-uh SO-sah Nickname(s): Fi, Sosa, Starlet, Princess Birthday: April 20th, 1992 Age: 33 Zodiac Sign: Taurus Sun Gender: Cis-Female Pronouns: She/Her Species: Shadow Elf Orientation: Pansexual, Demiromantic Occupation: Influencer/Brand Consultant Faceclaim: Camila Morrone
HEADCANONS
Fiadh's mother, Celia Sosa, is a high-end art dealer, and Fiadh's father, Giancarlo Sosa, is a corporate lawyer who comes from a long line of wealthy Sosas
You can find Fiadh across all platforms @byFiadh and if you get in good with her, she'll grant you access to her private account @MarisTellsAll
She sleeps with a nightlight even though she commands shadows
She always orders dessert, even if she barely touches her entrĂŠe
Her phone screen is cracked because she gestures a lot while talking and launches it regularly; literally talks with her hands like sheâs directing an orchestra only she can hear
Fiadh collects vintage perfume bottles but rarely wears perfume
She knows how to sew because she used to tailor her own sorority formal dresses
She gets hives from cheap liquor, but drinks it anyway when sheâs spiraling
Despite being a shadow elf, Fiadh hates the dark when sheâs alone but thrives in it when someone she trusts is nearby
She once called her followers âmy glitter peopleâ ironicallyâŚbut it stuck
She still has the first tattoo gun she used in college, tucked away like a relic
Fiadh can not stand total silenceâshe needs a playlist, a podcast, something
She plays dumb socially but is actually wicked smart and reads psychology books for fun
She leaves lipstick stains on every coffee mug she touches
She falls asleep in Blaiseâs hoodies when she misses him
Fiadh cries at animated movies but not at real tragedies because she dissociates under pressure
She stims by twirling her rings or bracelets
She has an encyclopedic memory for fashion history
Fiadh is never on time but always worth the wait
APPEARANCE
Fiadh has that kind of beauty that feels sun-kissed and dangerous at the same timeâsoft curves wrapped in sharp edges, like she was carved from candlelight and mischief. Long, dark hair that falls in effortless waves she pretends take âno time at all,â warm doe eyes framed by lashes that could start a religion, and full, expressive lips that betray every emotion she swears she isnât feeling. Her skin holds a golden undertone, glowing even in winter, and she moves with that lazy, coastal elegance of a woman whoâs been adored her whole life but never fully believed it. Her style is a curated blend of influencer chic and shadow-elf mystiqueâsilk tops, vintage denim, designer boots, black liner smudged just enough to look intentional. Even standing still, she feels cinematic
PERSONALITY
Fiadh is a wildfire wrapped in velvetâwarm, dazzling, unpredictable, and always reaching for more. Sheâs charming in that intoxicating way that makes people spill secrets they didnât mean to share, creative enough to turn chaos into aesthetic, and impulsive enough to do something insane just because it feels poetic. She loves loud, feels hard, spirals dramatically, and softens slowly. Sheâs been touched by hurt but refuses to let it be her headline, so she masks with humor, glitter, and curated perfection until sheâs ready to crack open. Underneath the theatrics, sheâs earnest to her coreâa girl who wants to be loved gently but is still learning what that looks like. Therapyâs helped her unspool the knots, but sheâll always be a little messy, a little magical, and a little too much in the best way
AESTHETIC
moonlit gloss catching on her collarbones â shadows stretching behind her like curious pets â gold hoops glinting against espresso-dark hair â sparkles on her cheeks long after the party ends â polaroids pinned to a mirror she never cleans â lipstick smudged from kissing someone she shouldnât â candlelight flickering over rings she bought on impulse â silk curtains swaying in a midnight breeze â the click of stilettos on marble floors â shadows whispering against her calves like a second heartbeat
CONNECTIONS
The Ride-or-Die Bestie (Drusilla) Someone whoâs survived every era of FiadhâYouTube child star, sorority menace, New York meltdown era. They know the trauma she doesnât talk about, or at least suspect it. Protective, chaotic, deeply loyal
Collaborators Other influencers. They met at an event of some sorts, clicked instantly, and now their combined content has fanbases feral. Could be sweet, competitive, or frenemies
Ex-Situationship Someone she hooked up with during an âoffâ period who caught feelingsâŚand maybe still has them. Could cause tension now that Blaise is back in her orbit
BIOGRAPHY
tw: childhood neglect & sexual abuse, toxic relationship dynamics
âChildren are the living messages we send to a time we will not see.â
Born into old money and older magic, Fiadh Sosa grew up wandering a mansion full of echoing corridors, staff who adored her, and parents who remembered to love her in flashes. An only child with shadows curled close like playmates, she learned early that attention was a currencyâand she was more than willing to earn it. By eleven, sheâd picked up a camera and started filming âday in the lifeâ videos: prank wars with the maids, quiet dinners alone, glittery attempts at makeup. What started as a bored childâs hobby blew up fast, and by middle school she was a full-fledged influencer with a loyal audience who preferred her raw honesty to her perfect hair. She called it The Sosa Showâwhich later was renamed to Fiadh Online during her teen years.
Something happened around that timeâsomething sheâs never talked about, something that stitched itself into the marrow of her shadow. On one of her fatherâs business trips, a trip sheâd been thrilled to join because it meant stolen hours of his attention, she was left alone with one of his associates. He crossed a line that shouldâve never even existed, leaving her with a hurt she didnât have the language for. She buried it deep, pressed it flat, convinced herself that perfection was the only armor that kept the world from seeing the fracture. She never went on another of her fatherâs business trips. And from that point on, she learned to smile like nothing could touch her, even when everything already had.
âWhatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.â
The Sosa and Dupuis families had been intertwined for generations, trading holidays and wine-soaked dinners like ritual offerings. Thatâs how she met Blaiseâone year older, an incubi/mermaid hybrid with charm sharp enough to cut. She kissed him at fourteen, started dating him at sixteen, and loved him in that explosive teenage way that leaves burn marks long after. They were each otherâs firsts: first love, first heartbreak, first mistake, first miracle. Their dynamic was volatile, magnetic, impossible to quit.
Fiadh left Northknot to go to college with Blaiseâher with a major in marketing driven by her love of art and psychology, him buried in business lectures so he could take over the family business. She became a sorority darling, homecoming royalty, campus it-girl with a tattoo gun she used on friends from her dorm room just for fun. He drowned himself in frat life, terrified of commitment but obsessed with her anyway. They fought, broke up, hooked up, sabotaged each other out of spite, then clung together like the world would split without them. Toxic? Absolutely. Legendary? Also yes.
âWe are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.â
After graduation, they didnât so much drift as free-fall in opposite directions and still somehow land tangled. Blaise took a gap year before his masterâs program and chased her to New Yorkâa city that adored her the second she breathed near a camera. They tried to play house in penthouse parties and subway stations, but they were still a storm: breaking up between headlines, making up behind velvet ropes, hooking up with celebrities and socialites who were basically placeholders for each other. They unraveled in public, then stitched themselves back together just to stand beside each other again. Fiadh built her influencer empire higher, neon-lit and unstoppable. Eventually he went back to school, and she wandered the world on brand deals and whim, but they never actually let go. Holidays would roll around, and there they wereâtwo people who shouldâve been done, curled back around each other like bad habits and cosmic fate. Even apart, they were orbiting.
When her travels finally stopped feeling like freedom and started feeling like running, Fiadh returned to Northknot, slipping back into the town like a shadow reclaiming its shape. Blaise stayed in Ottawa to work for his fatherâs company, but their on-and-off rhythm never died; every visit he made home came with a kiss, a fight, or both. Then, about eighteen months ago, he moved to Northknot for goodâand immediately kept his distance. She hated it. So she spiraled a little, acted out a lot, did anything she could to yank his attention back toward her. Eventually, a friend gently nudged her toward therapy, and eight months of sessions cracked her open in ways she hadnât expected. She started understanding why she loved like fire alarmsâloud, frantic, desperate for proof she wouldnât be forgotten. With that clarity came a new softness: she respected Blaiseâs boundaries and handed him the reins with a quiet âyour move.â Still loved him, of courseâhow else could she breathe?
âAnd the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.â
Now, in the present, they hover in that dangerous, magnetic in-betweenâalways close, always touching, always kissing in bars or tangled up in back hallways, sparking rumors like static. They havenât crossed the line back into âonâ yet, but they circle it constantly, like itâs inevitable. Their romantic status is officially complicated, but anyone whoâs watched them for more than five minutes knows the truthâtheyâre endgame, even if the road there is paved with every mistake theyâve ever made.
Fiadh is still all charm and quicksilver creativity, the kind of woman who can turn a blank room into a stage just by breathing. Sheâs impulsive in that gorgeous, terrifying wayâled by intuition, desire, and a stubborn belief that life should be loud. She used to be manipulative in love, not out of cruelty but out of hunger; sheâd grown up starved for softness, taught by absence that affection needed to be chased, shaped, or earned. But therapy cracked open that old script. Now she knows how to pause, how to listen, how to love without setting herself on fire to be seen. Thereâs still glitter in her seams and bruises in her shadow, but the ambition and ache that once warred inside her have learned to share the same chest. Sheâs a girl who grew up alone in a mansion and forced herself into brilliance anywayâthen matured enough to choose gentleness, not because it was expected, but because she finally believed she deserved it. A universe millions orbit, yes, but now sheâs learning how to let someone step close enough to actually stay.
