#krisseycrystal

[u3pxx]

i shall add to the artist ask meme: 🌊

🌊 What’s the hardest thing for you to draw? 

interior backgrounds will always be the answer to this but a specific thing i've been struggling for a while now is drawing the perspective and foreshortening of a person leaning down! it just hasn't clicked in my mind yet how to draw it in a manner that looks natural .... i'll keep tryin ..........

[aawomenzine]

🌷 Contributor Spotlight

Our next writer is a champion of Athena Cykes both in and out of the courtroom! @krisseycrystal knows how to craft a conversation and is just as much of an expert in characters' emotions as her favorite character!

You can also find KrisseyCrystal on Twitter!

[exquisitefrogprince]

Hi hi hi!! 💕 My name is Krissey, and I’m one of the organizers of Franmaya Week. This may be an awkward question, but I do weekly AA fic livereading streams, and for FMWeek, I’m hoping to read some of the amazing fics that have been written for it. Would you be willing to let me read aloud “Bloom in the Space Between” for it? 🥺💕 You don’t have to be present unless you’d like to be; the stream will be recorded and shared afterwards for you to be able to hear it if you’d like! And there’s never any pressure—you are more than welcome to say no and that’s completely okay, too!

Let me know either way! Thank you! 💕

Hi there! Omg, wow! Of course, absolutely. I'm very honored and would definitely try to tune in! 💖

[omoricookbook]

🥘  GUEST CONTRIBUTOR 🥘

We're thrilled to introduce our guest writer, @krisseycrystal! Krissey's writing is emotional and funny and sure to tug on your heartstrings. A huge fan of Sunny, we're more than happy to have her onboard!

You can also find Krissey on

TWITTER: @kissykrissey AO3: KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)

And don't forget that our artist and writer applications are open until the end of December! 

APPLY NOW!

ABOUT || MODS || FAQ

[kittykatzvillage]

Another commission for @krisseycrystal  Trucy Wright in the spotlight!

Thanks again for commissioning me!

[collabwithmyself]

it's been a week (or TWO??? mmmmAYBE?) but I finished the fic I told you a while ago I'd love to write for your turnabout transitions au--I wasn't sure if you felt comfortable about me posting it on AO3? or how you'd like me to share it, exactly? if you want, I can post it only to Tumblr--whatever you'd like! let me know what you'd prefer! thanks again for letting me write something for this great AU

OH PLEASE DO! My AO3 is here if you want to gift it to me! Share it however you'd like!!

[galysh]

for the ask writing meme -- "Last"?

LAST — the most recently written two sentences of my current project. Thank you for the ask! Project Title: I came in from the wilderness ( a creature void of form)  Fandom: Vanitas no Carte Characters: Roland Fortis and Olivier  There is a scream building up in his chest and he presses his fist against his mouth, bending forward as if to swallow the sound before it emerges. It does anyway, a high-pitched and nearly silent thing, nothing more than a long exhale that carries with it the faintest trace of his panic.

[kohakhearts]

things you said when you thought i was asleep w/ EMMET & ISOBEL P L Z

12: things you said when you thought i was asleep

They spend his thirteenth birthday the same way they’ve spent every other one: travelling.

Emmet doesn’t care. Or, he doesn’t not care, but he tries not to let it show. His mother has done everything for him, so the least he can do is suck it up and take what he can get.

And he knows she feels bad. He’s heard people say of her that she’s not an easy read, that she’s cold and intimidating, but he has never thought so. Her heart burns with the flames of her magic; to him, she has never been anything but warm and kind, the person he needs most.

So, when she feels bad about things like this, he can tell.

They’ve been on the road all day. His legs are killing him, but he stands straight, tall and proud, just like his mother does. He wonders if one day he, too, will follow her in her footsteps as a merchant. Or maybe he’ll take those other side jobs she does, the ones she doesn’t want him to know about because she does not want him to follow her there. They’re dangerous. Violent. She doesn’t want him involved in dangerous and violent things.

This, though, travelling—this is something they have always done together, ever since Emmet was very small. He doesn’t remember his father, knows nothing about him except for his name and his betrayal, but that doesn’t matter when he has Isobel with him. She has always looked after him, and he’s confident she always will. It is, after all, the Ipasian way—or so she says, anyway, but who else is there, exactly, that can tell him otherwise?

They’ve passed through three different towns today already. Of all the places he’s been, Emmet thinks he likes Eraos the most. The people are, generally, nicer to deal with. A lot of Isobel’s clients in cities like Derayn take the time to learn his name. Often, they give him small gifts, things that he doesn’t necessarily like but that he carries with him nonetheless because Isobel told him, once, so very long ago, that the things people give to him hold a little piece of that person within them. “Gifts,” she said, “are their way of saying they want you to carry them with you, wherever you go.”

They are odd little things, small wooden figures carved into various shapes, dragons and sheep and the more simple yet confounding cube. Some of gifted him more expensive things—daggers, glass trinkets. The only thing they all have in common, he thinks, is that they were made by hand by the person who gave it to him.

Isobel herself has never really done gifts. It’s not a tradition thing—in Ipasia, gift-giving was in fact quite common—but Emmet gets it. He does.

They just don’t have the money for it.

The only gift she ever got him was his watch, which she directed him, that same day, to wear on his right wrist. It seemed a strange request at first, but now he’s older, and he understands: if he ever needs an advantage against someone, they will wrongly assume he is left-handed. It is a flimsy security at best, and yet he had never once toyed with the idea of putting it on his other wrist.

The watch was not something Isobel bought, however. This is traditional; it was passed on to her by her father, Feodras. It has been in the Pomlei family for generations. Perhaps not all the way back to the time of Ipasia, but long enough for it to carry the weight of his family’s legacy. It is a weight he bears proudly, even though he is not always certain why he does.

By the time they come to a stop for today, they are in a small town straddling the border of Eraos and Fyas. Isobel gets them a room at the local inn and leaves him there to go out and find them something to eat. Of course, it isn’t always like this; often, when they’re able to stay in one place for long enough, they will settle somewhere at least somewhat safe and comfortable, where she can cook for them. Many of her clients allow them bed and board, though many others do not. When Emmet was younger, their accommodations were far worse. He doesn’t remember that well, but, back then, they didn’t have much money. Now, at least, they have enough to get by. Not enough to buy a birthday present, sure, but…it’s enough.

They don’t talk much through their meal. There’s only one bed in the room, though it’s big enough for both of them. Isobel stays seated at the small table while he gets ready to sleep, and she stays there for a very long time.

He thinks he does fall asleep, for a little while, but then there is a dip in the bed beside him, the sound of a light switch flicking off, and he is awake again. He keeps his eyes closed, hoping to fall asleep again, but—

“Lí sonto,” Isobel murmurs. “Oljé húbere polídé hise mos... Tél vís no nestiaba sar ís.”

Her soft fingers ghost over his forehead, brushing his hair back.

“Te estíe hasédé míar. Súponto que no pédía protegiar peré sempre, maí…” She sighs. “Mo quéríes penser Adonis es correcté, maí avés no estís súgaro. Si nus tiní habítomo…”

She is quiet, then, turning her back to him to lie down and sleep. He cracks his eyes open and stares at the wall in front of him. His throat is sore, eyes stinging…

I’m sorry. I wish I could have done more.

But she has done so much for him already, he thinks. And the rest…no, she can’t protect him forever, but that doesn’t mean he will leave her, no matter how old he gets… He, himself, has never really met Adonis—not formally, at least—but he knows his mother believes in his ideals. Emmet sort of figures that means he should believe in them too. His mother’s beliefs are strong. They are right.

…Aren’t they?

Right now, it doesn’t sound as if she believes that.

If we could have stayed…

He pulls the blanket up tighter to his chest.

I’m sorry. Sleep well. I love you.

send me two or more characters + a number and i’ll write a short fic!