#hope you had a great birthday! You're always so nice so I wanted to doodle something and it got out of hand

[ferronickel]

Happy birthday @lilybug-02!

A version without devil bread under the cut:

[fayesdiary]

Happy 2nd Anniversary!

Hello everyone!

Today marks the second anniversary of this blog! Wow, I can't believe it's been two years already! (Note, I created the blog earlier but February 4th 2019 was my first original post here so I use that date as the blog's birthday)

I'm honestly suprised this blog lasted this long, since I'm a very shy person usually on the Internet and commitment isn't exactly my strong suit. But what can I say? I love it here and Tumblr feels like home at this point!

To celebrate I'm gonna reminisce a little bit and write down my thoughts about this blog. It's gonna get really sappy, I'm sorry.

Just kidding. I'm not sorry at all.

2022 has truly been the year of all time. A lot and I mean a lot of ups and downs. I started and ended my first job, went on vacation, had one of the worst instances of allergy + depression, you name it. In hindsight, every few months I was in a wildly different situation and mental state.

But the thing that overall made 2022 great was finally getting into art! To turn the ironic hate off for a moment, I love Fire Emblem. It's not my favorite series (Kingdom Hearts and Kirby share that position), but it's one I still adore and now am truly greatful for, because for a reason or another it was the only one it felt welcoming enough to me to actively make an account about it and be active in social media rather than a ghost after years.

Before I made this blog I wrote a few supports for the fire-emblem-heroes-supports blog. I think they were the first piece of writing I ever made willingly and not as part of a school assignment, and looking back I still cherish them.

Eventually I had the idea for this blog, and after a lot of hesitation in typical me fashion, fayesdiary was born! I mentioned it a few times already, but originally it was meant to be just meta analysis posts, a few headcanons and theories and my sporadic writings. Overtime though it became a lot more freeform in what I posted, and I think it's all the better for it!

I got the courage to write and posts my first fanfictions and slowly carved my own personal space here on Tumblr. Like, a very cozy rat hole. Over time, this blog became a personal hobby and it gave me a lot of satisfactions. I got close to some people I truly admire and made a few friends too!

And boy, then we get to last year, which has been an absolute blast in terms of creativity!

I don't think I ever had in mind making a dialogue dump website of Awakening, but it happened and I had a lot of fun making it and giving it a lot of tiny details! ...even if its layout has the stability of a Jenga tower and it's just the Gangrel arc. Whatever. It's the thought that counts.

I wrote a bunch more! Not as much as I wanted, but I made some stories I'm really proud of. And I took part in a few fandom events and not just one but two Secret Santas for the first time!

I took a shot at making wallpapers and made some I'm really proud of, especially the Three Hopes ones. They were so fun to make and the process was just tons of fun!

And that leads nicely to... making art.

See, the thing about me is that I always sucked at making art. I couldn't keep my hands stable, I am incredibly clumsy and I couldn't draw anything more complicated than simple childlike doodles. And while I loved painting, the fact I felt incapable of making anything good or that I could like lead me to not even bothering to try. Why bother if you're just gonna be disappointed and frustrated, after all?

Until I got into group painting at around July, and I loved it. I made some paintings I truly like, and that eventually gave me the courage to start drawing again. As a half-joke. Only this time, I decided to draw with references, and my whole world got upside down. Turns out I could actually somewhat draw if I had a reference! And somehow I never realized it in years!

Something clicked. I figured it'd just be a thing I'd do for a week at most and then drop like so many other creative projects of mine, but... it stayed. Not only that, but I got more invested into it. I went from physical to digital (with the mouse!), and eventually shifted to a graphic tablet a friend lent me (and then pretty much gifted me). Eventually the drawings became so many I decided to make an art blog! Me! An art blog! The me from even just early 2022 would have called you insane if you said it! And now not just that, but I'm even making preparations to open a Redbubble shop! I still can't believe it!

And a huge part is thanks to this blog, really! It gave me and still keeps giving me the courage to try new stuff, find new friends and people who inspire me, and lets me know people enjoy what I make or say. It's amazing, and it makes me feel so happy!

I'll be honest, I am grateful to this blog. It truly helped me get into a better place, and I can confidently say ever since I opened it I feel a lot happier. And that's coming from the local cynical bastard who usually hates themselves, but now? I went from hating myself to being neutral at worst for the most part. Even if I still have my moments sometimes, but that's normal. And now I actually have hope for the future!

But really, it says a lot that for once at the New Year party I wasn't the one who claimed the next year was going to suck. Heck, I was actually caught off guard when one of my friends said it and I said no, it's gonna be good!

Anyway, enough rambling. What I want to say is, thank you for everything. Thank you to the people who complimented me or even just commented on the things I made. Thank you to my mutuals and anonymous lurkers. Yes, I know you're there, I was and often still am one of you. And most of all, thank you to all my online friends I made here on Tumblr. When I think about it, we haven't known each other for that long, but I want you to know now I can't imagine a life without you and you brighten my day every time we chat. I love you so much and I wish you nothing but the best<3

Here's to plenty more years of this blog!

[artificialqueens]

📬 Say You'll Be There (Lady Camden x Icesis Couture) - Athena2

Summary: Camden and Icesis are pen pals as kids, and their friendship develops over time.

A/N: Here's my entry for the pen pal challenge, with Camden and Icesis! My logic behind this pairing was that they both give me quiet kid vibes, and somehow this was born. Thank you so much to Writ for encouraging me and for betaing, you're the best <3

Camden taps her unicorn pencil on the blank paper, wondering what to write her new pen pal. All her other homework is done, but she’s still at her desk because of this letter, a new project her teacher came up with. Her teacher had an old friend who taught fourth grade in Canada, and decided to make their classes become pen pals.

Camden’s never had a pen pal. She’s never even written a letter to anyone. She should be excited, but she isn’t. Her teacher had pulled her aside after class and said her pen pal was another shy student and this could be a great way for them to both be more outgoing. So far, it’s just made her wonder why being called shy makes her feel like she did something wrong. 

Camden sighs and brings her pencil to the top of the page. Her teacher had told the class to tell their new pals the basics for now. Their name, birthday, favorite color, what they like to do. The sooner she gets this done, the sooner she can draw. In her neatest handwriting, she writes out Dear Icesis, and begins.

—-

Icesis reads the letter again, trying to figure out what to write back. She hates this project. She could barely talk to anyone in her own class; why does she have to write letters to someone who lives on another continent? It’s not like she’ll ever meet Camden in person.

But Icesis will look stupid if she doesn’t have a letter to give her teacher tomorrow, and she doesn’t want to get in trouble for not doing it. All she has to do is introduce herself, and maybe mention some things they have in common, like her teacher said.

Except she doesn’t think she has anything in common with Camden, who does ballet and loves the color pink and dots her i’s with tiny hearts. But Camden also likes to draw, so she won’t think it’s boring that it’s Icesis’s favorite thing to do, that she doodles cool monsters on her school work. And Icesis knows Camden is shy too, because her teacher had told her.

Just a paragraph. Icesis can do that. Her handwriting isn’t as neat as Camden’s, but it’s better than the other kids in her class. Dear Camden, she starts, and the rest comes surprisingly easy.

---

Camden’s heart leaps when their first letters are handed out. She gets birthday cards every year, but she’s never gotten a letter just for her before, and it feels special.

Since it’s their first letter, her teacher lets the class take some time to read them at their desks. Camden holds her breath as she starts to read, hoping her pal didn’t think her letter was boring, hoping she’s nice.

She reads it three times, trying to know the girl who wrote it all, trying not to panic that they won’t have anything in common, because Icesis’s favorite color is black. Camden’s never met anyone whose favorite color is black. Although she hasn’t actually met Icesis. But Icesis likes to draw too, and had even sketched a tiny icicle after her name in colored pencil. She mixed different shades of blue and white and it looks almost real. Icesis is way better at drawing than she is, and she thinks it’s cool that Camden does ballet.

The minute Camden gets home, she writes back.

—-

It’s easier to write things out than it is to talk. Icesis has time to think about what she wants to say, and she can take as many breaks as she wants while working, unlike in school. For the first time ever, she looks forward to doing homework.

And after a few letters, Camden gets even easier to talk to. They bond over how not talking a lot gets them labeled the shy kid, how they’re always getting told to speak up, how the loud kids get placed next to them in class. Neither of them have pets, but Icesis tells Camden how her neighbors sometimes let her play with their dogs, and they talk about their favorite kinds. Camden writes about her stuffed animal collection and how she used to have tea parties with them. Icesis sends back a letter with a drawing of a bunch of dogs huddled around a giant tea cup saucer.

It’s only supposed to be an assignment for the school year, but when Camden asks if Icesis wants to keep writing next year, she frantically writes back a yes.

—-

Camden’s letter welcomes Icesis after her first day of fifth grade, talking about the new things she’s going to learn in school this year and how she’s nervous about her upcoming audition for The Nutcracker.

Icesis writes back about everything she’s going to learn this year, and how the fifth graders get to do a diorama art project, and the best one wins a prize.

When Icesis wins the award and Camden gets the part of Clara, they each send a congratulations letter in brightly colored markers.

—-

The shoebox that Camden keeps Icesis’s letters in needs a rubber band around it to keep the cover on. Every one makes makes her bounce with excitement when she sees it, eager for news on Icesis’s life.

Camden has a few friends at school, a few more in her dance class. But Icesis is different. Each letter is special, a blank slate where she can tell Icesis the things that she’s too scared or embarrassed to tell anyone else. Icesis always seems to understand, and it feels like she’s seeing Camden even from all those miles away.

It’s easier to write about stuff than to actually say it, and being able to hide behind the paper and pen makes her braver somehow. Camden can’t pinpoint exactly where, but their letters eventually shift into more serious things than favorite colors or music to listen to or what they learned in school. Maybe it’s around the time when they start writing in pen instead of pencil, when the spaces between the lined sheets of paper grow thinner. Maybe it’s the summer when Camden visits Scotland and sends Icesis a Loch Ness monster postcard, because she thought Icesis would like it. The summer Icesis sends her a birthday card with a bunch of dog stickers rucked inside.

Whenever it is, Camden finds herself telling Icesis how her parents argue sometimes, or how the kids at school are always picking on her for her red hair, or for not kissing a boy yet.

Icesis writes back about how her parents argue too. She writes about how sometimes her worries spin around in her head and she can’t stop them, how some days she feels empty and doesn’t know why; empty and too tired to get out of bed.

Neither of them knows how to fix the other’s problems. They’re too much for two barely-teenagers to solve on their own. They just write back and forth, understanding words and encouragement, their hearts bleeding ink all over the pages. They can’t fix everything.

But sometimes listening is enough.

—-

Icesis tears her letter out of the mailbox when she gets home. Camden promised her next letter would have the results of her ballet school audition, and she holds her breath while she rips the envelope open. Icesis knows Camden got in the second she opens the paper, because Camden’s written the result in giant letters that are shaky around the edges, like she was too excited to be neat.

She knows how much Camden wanted to go to that school. She spent a day there before her audition and said everyone was so passionate about ballet and so nice to her, and that it was the first time she felt like she fit in somewhere.

Icesis draws pretty ballet slippers in her congratulations letter, staying up late to get them right.

—-

Camden doesn’t really draw anymore, especially not since she started ballet school. But that night, she ignores the aches in her shoulders and pulls out some colored pencils to write to Icesis.

Icesis got into a fashion art class at her school, one that only ten students a year get into . Camden had encouraged her through the whole application, and even though the dresses she draws on the letter are nowhere near what Icesis could draw, she knows Icesis will like them.

—-

Icesis is sixteen and pacing around her room when she decides to write to Camden about a crush she has on someone in her art class. A crush not on a boy, but on a girl. She hasn’t told anyone yet, but it’s starting to feel like too big a secret for her body to contain, threatening to burst her at the seams. She’s hardly slept all week. If she doesn’t tell someone, she might explode.

She trusts Camden. Each letter is a safe place to get it all down, to tell her things she’s too afraid to tell anyone else. But Icesis’s hand shakes as she gets out what she needs to say. Having a crush on a girl feels wrong, makes Icesis feel like she’s bad somehow. All she ever hears is that it’s bad, that it should be boy and girl, never anything else. It would be so much easier if she liked boys, but no matter how much she tries, she can’t think about them that way. She needs Camden to understand, just like she understands the heaviness in Icesis’s body sometimes, or how much art means to her.

Her stomach twists once the letter is in the mailbox, but while the secret is out, it's also safe. Camden won’t tell anyone, and the heaviness in her chest and legs lifts away, because now Camden is sharing some of the weight with her.

When Camden’s reply comes, it’s the longest letter she’s ever written. Every word is careful and thought out, and every word tells her it’s okay. It’s okay that she has a crush on a girl, and it doesn’t make her a bad person, because Camden knows her, and Camden knows she’s a great person.

Tears drip down Icesis’s chin as she reads. She didn’t know how much she needed those words. She didn’t know how much she needed Camden, and she’s never been more grateful for that fourth grade assignment.

—-

It’s getting harder and harder to write with the frequency they had in their preteen years.

Camden has a graduation recital that she’s constantly rehearsing for, and any free time is spent lying on her bed with heavy eyelids and ice bags on all her sore spots. Icesis tells her about putting everything together for her graduation art portfolio, her body stiff and eyes burning as hours tick by while she designs and sews.

They’re both busy, and that promise of the future, a promise that always seemed so far away, is now just in front of them. Camden will audition for ballet companies after she graduates, and Icesis will try to get work with her art. Neither of them will be tied to their schools anymore, tied to their old lives.

They don’t even have to be tied to each other anymore, if they don’t want to.

But Camden does want to. It’s been ten years with Icesis as her friend, with those letters under her bed and in her heart. When Camden couldn’t sleep from stress over her auditions, she pulled out Icesis’s old letters to calm down. She laughed at Icesis’s jokes and awed over her drawings, and had sent back her own comfort to Icesis when she was struggling too.

Camden doesn’t want to lose her.

After graduation, Camden sends a letter with her new address, asking if Icesis wants to continue.

But she doesn’t get a letter back.

—-

14 Years Later

Camden sighs as she pulls up to the clothing shop. She’s barely been in Canada for three hours, and her costume for tomorrow’s show is ruined. Part of the skirt was damaged in transport, and the costume manager was unpacking it when it accidentally caught on the hanger and ripped along the zipper, taking a bunch of rhinestones with it, and Camden had to find the first place she could to fix it. The rest of the company is out exploring, but not her. Camden sighs again and approaches the door.

The shop is called Ice Cold Designs, the sign done in neon blue. There’s an icicle after it, and Camden can’t figure out why it looks familiar.

She steps inside to meet rows of dresses and clothes in bright colors and patterns she would have never thought to put together, but that all work somehow. There’s something special about these designs. They’re more than just clothes; they’re art.

“You’re Camden, right? The one who called about the costume?”

Camden jumps at the voice, and turns around to see a woman around her height, with black hair and deep brown eyes.

“That’s me.”

The woman nods slowly, like she’s lost in thought. “Would you mind trying it on so I can see?”

“Sure.”

Camden slips inside a dressing room and emerges in the costume. It’s a favorite of hers, pale pink with light green stones, and she hopes the woman can fix it.

“That looks nice on you,” the woman says quietly.

“Thanks.” Camden blushes. “It’ll look better without the crushed skirt, though.”

The woman smiles. “Luckily, I can fix that.” Her hands are gentle as she touches along the hidden side zipper, comparing the fabric to a collection of threads. “So, you tour with a ballet company?” she asks.

“Yeah. But I’m thinking this might be my last year,” Camden says without meaning to. Something about the woman makes her easy to talk to, and she keeps going. “I’ve been thinking of settling somewhere, maybe becoming a choreographer. The traveling, and all the performing…it can be hard.” There’s always a dull ache somewhere in her body, and while she loves traveling, it would be nice not to live out of a suitcase. Not that this woman needs to know all that. “Sorry for rambling,” she adds.

“No worries.” She nods to herself. “Okay, you’re set. I’ll fix the hole and then add the rhinestones. Rework the structure of the skirt. It’ll be ready tomorrow morning.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Camden says, and the woman is still blushing when Camden gets back from changing and pays for the repair.

The woman slides her a receipt. “Um, just sign here.”

Camden does, and the woman stares at her signature, then looks back up at Camden. Her gaze is intense, like she’s seeing her for the first time. She meets Camden’s eyes fully, and there’s a pause, a shiver running down Camden’s spine as time seems to stop. It’s like they’re both waiting for something to happen, and it’s quiet enough for Camden to hear her own heartbeat.

The woman bites her lip. “I know this is gonna sound weird, but did you ever have a pen pal named Icesis?”

“I did,” Camden says, taken aback to days tearing open envelopes and nights spent writing replies. It’s been so long since they stopped writing, but Camden never forgot the girl who was always there for her. The girl who was probably her best friend. “But how do you know that? Why would—“ she cuts herself off, head spinning, heart beginning to race. How on earth could this woman know that, unless… “You’re not…you can’t be…”

The woman nods. “I’m Icesis.”

Camden is shaking, struggling to get in a full breath. This is a joke somehow, it has to be. This woman in front of her can’t possibly be Icesis, who drew her pictures of cool animals and comforted her through all her problems. It can’t be.

“I know your favorite ice cream is strawberry,” Icesis says. “You were afraid of the dark until you were fourteen. You always wanted a corgi, and you would’ve named him Freddie or Waffles. And I’m—“

“You’re a picky eater but you love everything chocolate,” Camden finishes. “The first sewing project you ever did was a pillow. You were the best at pinball and always wanted to buy your own machine.”

There’s a beat, and Icesis gives her a single nod.

“It’s really you,” Icesis says softly.

The next thing Camden knows, her arms are around Icesis, hugging her the way she’s wanted to since they were both eight and writing about how they hated crust on sandwiches. Icesis was always real to Camden, even if they never met. But having Icesis in her arms like this is a different kind of real. A real that’s solid and warm and smells faintly of coconut shampoo. A real girl who held all her secrets and fears and childhood stories, who gave Camden her own, and is now the woman in her arms.

“How did you know?” Camden asks, finally pulling away so they don’t crush each other.

“I started thinking it had to be you right away. A ballerina named Camden with red hair and a British accent? That’s way too many coincidences.” She takes a breath. “But I was still afraid maybe it wasn’t you, that I was just seeing what I wanted to see. Then I saw your signature, and I had to ask. It hasn’t changed since you were, like, twelve.”

“I don’t put hearts over my i’s any more, I’ll have you know.” Camden grins. She’s still breathless, bouncing in place, head spinning with a thousand things she wants to say. Her eyes go back to Icesis and can’t pull away, still in disbelief that she’s really seeing her. Camden’s seeing her for the first time, but it somehow also feels like she’s seen her before. She knows the girl from those letters, and that girl is part of this woman who’s completely new to Camden.

“You look like I pictured you,” Icesis says, like she has the same thought.

“You look different from how I pictured you,” Camden says. “I think sometimes I still picture you as a nine-year-old. But this suits you.”

Icesis smiles, but she turns serious, twisting her fingers together. “I want to tell you…I didn’t mean to not write you back. After graduation, things got…bad. With my mental health stuff, I mean.” Icesis looks at her feet. “It was really bad, and by the time I was in a better place, it had been so long that I didn’t think you would want to hear from me anymore. I’m sorry.”

Camden’s heart clenches. When they were kids, neither of them had the knowledge or the words for explaining Icesis’s dark periods. Camden just knew that Icesis would hurt sometimes, hurt in a way she didn’t know how to express, and Camden would write her a bunch of cheesy jokes and small things that might make her smile. Camden always wished she could have helped more, and she especially wishes it now. 

“No. Don’t be sorry. Please don’t.” Camden reaches over and squeezes her shoulder. “I’m so sorry you were struggling. And part of it’s my fault. I should’ve reached out to you again, but I was always so busy with performances.”

Yes, she had been hurt when Icesis didn’t write back. It was like a hole in her chest without Icesis there. More times than she could count, her hands went toward her favorite gel pen, before remembering that she didn’t have a letter to reply to. But when an audition finally proved successful, and then her life was a whirlwind of rehearsals and traveling and performances, the hole seemed to get smaller, until she barely noticed it anymore.

“It’s okay,” Icesis says. “But it doesn’t matter now. You’re here. We’re here. Like it was meant to be.”

“Yeah.” It really does feel like fate, that Camden’s costume was the only one that got damaged, that the first place to show up on Google happened to belong to Icesis. Camden isn’t going to think about the odds that put them here, think about how easily it might not have happened.

“I could show you around. If you want to, I mean,” Icesis says shyly.

They used to talk about it in their letters all the time, dreaming about visiting each other. It never felt like anything beyond a dream; Camden Town and Ottawa seemed so far they might have been different planets. But it didn’t stop them from talking about it, from Icesis wanting to bring Camden to her favorite arcade, where Ice was listed beside the high score on half the machines, or Camden wanting to show Icesis her favorite tea shop, always perfectly warm and loaded with sweet pastries.

“I would love that,” Camden says. “Are you gonna show me the arcade?”

Icesis grins. “Of course I will. It’s been a while, though. My name is probably gone from the high scores.”

“You’ll have to fix that, then.”

“I will.” Icesis offers her hand, and Camden takes it, savoring that rush of joy, that buzz of pure warmth up her arm.

“Let’s go,” Camden says, and she heads into the sun with her favorite person in the world.