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I haven't seen the new part yet, but I am so excited!!!!

💖Good job Andy~!!

💚Don't call me that...

source - arha_cos

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you alive?

Take a guess...

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Confessional ~

Verse 1

  "I clung to your hands

      so that something human might exist in the chaos."

-      Hèlène Gixous, from "Olivier De Serres- A Single Passion Two Witnesses," Love Itself: In the Letter Box (Polity Press, 2008)

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* Ingrid *

It is in the wind, and the rocks, and within the waves. It is the echo of the lost places of our soul's past and our grief for them. Hiraeth n.(Welsh) A spiritual longing for a home which maybe never was. Nostalgia for ancient places to which we cannot return. It is nowhere and it is everywhere. And it is the place in between where I belong. 

It's 1992, and I have longed for eleven years. I counted the waves rolling back into the sea, ten times over, each year on my birthday. And when this September 9th comes, I'll join my mother and sisters in their songs under the full moon's cast. I'll put my lips to wine and drown myself with seafoam. Who dares to follow will be welcomed in my embrace because a home deserves its people. And I'm terrified of being alone.

There was a place I once called home, far over the ocean's horizon. Where women gathered without their men but with their daughters. I grew up there, blessed and loved by all. A spark of blonde whisps that bounded to and fro. And all of the new women that came kissed the ground that I'd walked on with bare feet. Their pasts were unknown to me from places unseen by me. I only knew of the isle. And what a massive landscape it was. 

There was one structure on the island. Crafted from the love of the land, untouched by most humans. A cathedral that shifted from left to right, and inside out to outside in. It had wondering feet that escaped people's sights. No one room kept its original spot or had doors that entered it along the same wall used before. Things disappeared when needed most and reappeared at whim but were never bound to be found where it was last seen. Lavish decor cycled through stages of novelty. Some became impoverished too quickly while others flourished gold under the sun's gleam. The women made it a game to hunt the sly-footed cathedral down with offerings in hand. They wanted to be in God's favor.

However, it was quite elusive.

But, not to I who was welcomed within its halls, guided where my heart desired. 

If overcome with fatigue from my embarkment then there would be a frilly white canopy bed awaiting my lax body where I'd burry my face into the scratchy tuff of my beloved lion plush, Leo. He accompanied me to all places unfit for Mother to venture. If I were joyful, there would be a room of porcelain dolls and a play mansion. My imagination would run amok of what men's courting a woman should look like. At the time, I wanted to be swept off my feet like that. They'll have a different gait and stride based on what the other women gossiped over, that I've yet to see for myself. They'll praise women in woeful pain knowing profound art would be on the other side. And, when men are not needed, they'd take it. 

When I didn't know where to go, I'd wander the halls with Leo to a shallow pool where I'd find my friend, the octopus. He would splash water on my face, tentacles curling around my arm to keep me upright in water up to my chin. He even taught me to swim before my mother could.  

I was only six, a being filled with imagination. He could've been imaginary, yet he felt real to me. He was my home. He taught me much. But as I had once imagined men, I wonder if I'd return to meet him, and he would be the cruelest of them all.

. . . . . .

Sister Grace Marie never saw my appearance as 'conducive' to the church. No matter where I walked on campus, I felt her beady-eyed stare up my fucking skirt. I wore the shitty uniform; unbuttoned at the collar: plaid blue skirt hiked to the cup of my ass: my frizzy mane contained in a messy ballet bun: and I was on my best behavior half of the time. I prayed at each meal that Koen would fuck off and finish last. I attended classes with little bite back because there would be nowhere to go if expelled. Then there was the bible I kept tucked between my thighs when I sat, noted and highlighted from years locked in this place. Though, with all that combined, it doesn't hide how shit-faced one can get before confessional.

"Sister got her eyes on you~" Annika singsonged into my ear.

I replied, "She must have the fattest crush on me." The pews were stocked full with herds of other students, one by one entering the booth to confess their mortal sins.  

Annika giggled alongside me, tapping eagerly at my knee. "Ingrid, hear me out. We sneak off to the shore tonight. Maybe we'll spot that wretched island of yours."

"It won't show," I whispered. "It doesn't like washed-up whores like you." I smothered kisses along the curve of her nose and hung off her shoulders. I glanced at Sister Grace Marie who scowled at the display. Her face puffed and reddened like an apple I wished to bite.

"So, is it a no to sneaking out?" 

I turned to Annika humming a tune of the isle. I longed for the lute to wash over the melody as the procession of drums amounted to greater heights, bouncing off the cave walls. Women had danced to this song and sung it to their children in the early hours in the vegetable field. Women sang this song each summer solstice and when children were blessed by their first bleed. It was a song of pure womanhood, which only I bear. And I kept it locked in a safe, buried behind my rib cage, scared that it'd be taken away from me. I was seldom aware that my home no longer existed outside of my body.

"I would go anywhere with you. And out of this damn church." I slouched further sideways into Annika's warmth, now subjected to the organ's melancholy praise to the lord "If I could show you my home, I would. You would love it there. Anyone would have. There were no rules to be broken. We shared everything. Love, experiences- it was a true home." 

"It's not like the rumors?"

I shook my head, "Nothing at all like it. Everyone here's a pansy."

Annika's fingers scratched at my scalp, "You talk fondly of the Isle that it's hard to believe that... they all died. My aunt got caught up in it. I do wonder if she had felt the same as you."

"We all felt the same." 

"But, you were six!  When are you going tell everyone your story?"

I tsked, glancing over my shoulder at Sister Grace Marie who motioned for me to sit up. "Right after I confess to the priest that I had homosexual thoughts about a certain nun." 

. . . . . .

I never quite liked enclosed spaces. 

Even the Isle's cathedral expanded similar to lungs with each trepid step. I had a whole island to explore. And I slept in tents made of thin white sheets, blown open for all the women to gather inside. We slept together, rarely with the need to be alone. And the moon showed himself full of elation, never shrouding us in darkness due to his lust for the sun who loved him back dearly. We were blessed and truly loved. We were beings truly protected by god. 

Wild foxes set up camp on our doorsteps and followed us younglings to the bathroom. While fluffy feathered owls perched across the woodlands, hunting for tomorrow's breakfast. They protected the land while my friend, the octopus, controlled the winds and the waves.

Confessionals started in a box. 

This one had one hundred and sixteen mini-decorative crosses carved into the exit. The number never grew or fell short with each season I found myself here -autumn being my favorite. I could imagine myself cosplaying a true believer in repentance. "Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been four months since my last confession. These are my sins." I halfheartedly recount while my knee bounced to the pace of my heart. 

"I think of myself defected," I begin.  My thumb ached around the ridges of my teeth. I have spoken more than I cared to admit. Might keep it going. "God doesn't exist here... As a child, he was everywhere -wherever I walked, green followed. Since I came here, he has forsaken me. I believe God hates me because I'm not pure of the mainland. I should be on the island. Now, I drink myself stupid. I'm not a whore but close to it. At least Sister thinks it. I've stolen, cussed, and been to the cops countless times. Even before I committed my first crime...

And, when I think about that, I get violent. I haven't acted on it, yet, but I want to -so badly- crush the skulls of those around me. Do you know what they call me, Father? Not only am I a daughter with no actual father but I am a Satanic Princess. The Seaside reject, ha. And you Catholics act so above it all. So my sin, I don't believe in your God."

A beat of silence came before a heavy sigh. "Child, God hears you now. He's within this room and as a servant of God, I listen and understand. This is the first that you've ever spoken so earnestly here. We are proud of you. You say God hates you, yet you're the sole survivor of that Island, I'll beg to say he loved you the most. He spared you of their fate."

"Hmm, you say that." I wilt into the heaviness of my head. "But, I hate it here. It's suffocating. I'd rather be where they are -wherever that is."

"Would you do as they did?"

I thought about it. "No"

"Why?"

"I'm afraid that they'll cast me out. Or that I wouldn't find them on the other side. Especially if I die here. It's terrifying... trying to take your own life."

"You are a vessel of God. You entered and will exit at his will if you so choose. They were lost and committed a grave sin. And at his divine ordainment, he brought you to us. Your life was spared. You are devout, but you will always be split between the Isle and here. Could you accept that?"

I thought about it. No.

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Thank you for reading! Request rules are here! Follow my ig = lil.thoughts.xo!

This story will be updated on Wattpad at least once a month. The first three chapters will be uploaded on my blog in its entirety. But, to read the full thing, head over to my Wattpad down below. Wattpad = @ calypssee, #second.thoughts

An A03 version will be made in the future.

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if youre still writing for class of 09, id kill to see that yan! kylar fic!!

On the to-do list. Hopefully will be done by the end of the week!!!

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Hi! I wanted to know if your request are open?

Yes, they are open now. I am also in a headspace to write.

Thank you all for being patient with me.

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Cross My Heart and Hope to Die~

-Yan!Andrew Graves x F!Reader x Yan!Ashley Graves-

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Part 1, 3 (coming out soon)

chapter two The Doll prt 1

summary A doll's presence is all it took to cause a ripple effect to occur. warning familial neglect/abuse, quarantine trauma, hunger, implied cheating

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Porcelain dolls have eyes that notice the insignificant details. They settle on a freckle four cm to the left and a quarter inch above your cupid's bow. To anyone but the doll, it would go unnoticed. So, when one peeks at it through its glass confinements, its eyes won't meet them; instead, it'll linger on that minor imperfection. That fracture in a supposedly perfect mold. However, no one's face is prettier than a doll. Once they've noticed all that makes you human, then and only then- will they turn their gaze to the tacky florals patterning the walls.

Mommy had dressed you as such.

Then she yelled at you for seeing the wrinkles gathering around her brows. Adding with age and multiplying with substances.

Daddy left and it meant that Mommy blamed you for driving a wedge within their relationship. Father never wanted a girl. He reminded you each birthday he was present that only lesser men spawned pussies. You never shot back a retort, finding buttercream swirls more appealing than his face.

Then Jared ran away before you turned twelve. He loathed your doe expression. He wanted to cram you into a box to look at forever. The desire to snap your legs to keep you like a wingless bird ever-present in his thoughts. You were so pretty that he tried bruising your flesh to make you undesirable. But, it fueled his preadolescent hormones.

That's why Jared fled. His conflicts were written on torn-out pages of your favorite books, haphazardly strewn under your pillows.

By fifteen, all Mommy had was you and your porcelain eyes.

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You tensed over the checkered tile floor, which you've stared at all morning. The A/C whirled down the hall, sputtering out of sync; it hardly worked, and no repair man could be called. You toed at the roughed-up edges of wooden planes, meeting the kitchen flooring. You traced purple scribbles from a marker long discarded with the heels of your feet. You chuckled at your balance seeming off. Your stomach ached, but nothing could be delivered.

The last you've eaten to satiate the tiniest bit of hunger was a can of tomatoes warmed on the stovetop a half day prior. Unfortunately, it was split among three -the Graves siblings and yourself.

You paced on tip-toes from the sink to the front door -barred on the outside. You used to peek each morning through the peephole for a sign of life besides the security guard making his rounds. And each time, there was one pair of footfalls on the water-drenched carpet.

These days you felt like a marionette, stumbling through the motions on uneven limbs. Your right side lifted higher than your left, and your arms splayed parallel to your hips as if you held onto the wire strings itself. If you hopped off pointe, you felt limp and discarded. Worn out. As though the puppeteer decided a doll of more novelty deserved to breathe life.

And if you ever did stop moving then the TV's saccharine buzz would meld into your pores as it spoke its static language. Foreign if not for its monotony over your life. It reminded you that death remained your last resort.

You wouldn't survive this.

"You're up..." A voice startled your reverie. It was lithe and wooly in the air with hints of sleep attached to each syllable. Leyley stretched over the couch's mustard arm. "That burns calories." She gestured flippant at your display.

"Your point... We'll die anyways," You chewed on your inner cheek.

Ashely faced away. Any snide remark wrangled tight to her chest.

She shrugged, "Who's Andy on the phone with?"

You glanced over at Andrew, the only member of this dump who was fortunate enough to receive weekly check-in calls. "Probs it's Julia."

Who else could it be besides her? Julia this and Julia that. When the phone rang, Andrew pounced for the receiver, soaring head-first into her tales of a world outside. You had not bothered to listen except to the forlorn sighs breaching over the static. But your steps mimicked the rhythm of which he'd spoken -hushed and bothered.

Ashley wore a blank facade. Her pink eyes sparked devilishly against the paleness of her skin. "Oh?" She gritted through thin lips.

You brushed frigid fingers through your hair, which remained a hot-knotted mess. Leyley reached over pillows for the remote, and with speed, she muted the sound, before filtering through the television stations as if anything would pop up. However, she knew there was nothing but the news which had shut off an hour prior.

Andrew sneered at his sister. "Or I can try talking to them? But-- No or I mean yes. But that doesn't--... No, I'm not angry. I'm just--"

Pause. More shoutings of female rage sputtered over the receiver.

"No, I--... Can you let me talk?" Andrew snorted.

A female voice shrilled from the phone, "--'ve time to think---... just can't do it anymore."

"What else is there to say …Sorry?" Andrew stiffened. He pinched at the furrow of his eyebrow. "Although I don't see why I should be held accountable for--"

beep -- beep -- beep… CLANK

Metal smashed against itself as Andrew deposited the rotary phone back into place. "Who was it?" Ashley spoke. Her fingers stroked the gem dangling from her inked black chocker wrapped in a death vice around her neck.

"My ex-girlfriend. Apparently."

You hopped down, bare heels meeting the ground.

"Oooo, she dumped you? Why is that?" Leyley twirled her words together into a song.

A silence bloomed between the siblings.

The back tag of Andrew's sweater was flipped up, reaching toward the nape of his hair. "Why do you think?" He breathed out low.

"H-how should I know? Maybe… because you're a parasite-infested homebody, that's apparently perma-quarantined?" Ashley brought her knees to her chest, resting her chin above it. "Or, it's because she found somebody new? It's been a few months, buddy. Or maybe she didn't like you much in the first place."

"…Whatever you say, Ashley." Andrew dragged his feet to the balcony. The door slammed shut on this argument.

Leyley swiveled her gaze to you. "I didn't even tell him the worst of it. I could've brought up the fact that he's fucking you."

You puffed out a soft laugh. "It's because you tell me to."

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"NOOOO!!!" Ashley welled. She had kicked her feet into the air, flailing them about like weapons with no aim. Anything and everything was a target in her blind fury. "I don't want her sleeping in my room."

You huddled on the top step to the second floor, head buried into the flesh of your arm. Andrew hobbled past your form with your bookbag in tow. You glanced at the rabbit toy nodding off towards the door. Its arm flopped over his shoulder.

Mrs. Graves tore sheets out of the hallway closet with haste. She had bags under her eyes and her groans were exaggerated. "Ashley! Stop. I told you, when she stays the night, she'll be in your room."

"No faaaaair-" The little girl drawled. "Let her stay on the couch!!!"

"And let that child have an accident on it? No."

"So, she'll pee in my room!" Ashley's cheeks pooled red with heat.

"If she so has to," Mrs. Graves rolled her eyes. "But, I assume she's potty trained..." She waltzed towards her daughter, depositing the linens over top of her head.

Andrew wrangled Ashley from underneath the covers. Her arms spun like broken windmills -knocking her fists against his head. "That's not the point!!! I don't want her here."

Mrs. Graves flattened the blankets out on the ground. "It's not about what you want."

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Thank you for reading! Request rules are here! Follow my ig = lil.thoughts.xo! Sorry to have this come out so late!! Hope you all enjoy, part three should be out sooner. Next chapter will explore more of this "sleep over"

@aika-starlight @snackpaxk @jimmycest @moriwori

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Hii! R u willing to write for yan! Cardan?

Yes!!! I love Cardan and everything him!! I have an idea for a modern-day Cardan x Jude Au similar to the movie Anora.

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Important ~

Hey guys! I will not be able to deliver on my promises to upload any stories this month or next. Life has been kicking me in the ass recently.

My homophobic father made it clear that I’m no longer welcomed in his house based off a dream he had of me. This situation has been confusing and heartbreaking; I don’t feel safe.

I’m working to move out. So once everything is settled I’ll try to come back. Thank you for understanding.

-xoxo

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Happy Halloween!!!!

pov: geto wants to know your fav scary movie

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November - December Projects ~ Please don't leave an untold story within you

Hello!!! I am back after a hot hiatus. I've been struggling with work and my depressive nature. I have taken this time to step away and focus on other goals of mine. I am doing great for myself. I am re-enrolling in college, updating my desk setup (a.k.a- saving up for a big boi PC), and I've made new friends.

For the remainder of this month and next, I will take it slow. There's no such thing as weekly uploads. It's not like I even maintained that well enough prior due to my unpredictable work schedule.

Hopefully, by the start of the spring semester, I have more time. I will most likely quit and find a new, less demanding job. Plus school can't be that hard... *cries*

Projects

~ these are concept ideas that may or may not be worked on by the end of this month. If not done, they may be rolled onto next month's list or simply abandoned due to a list of reasons.

~ requests made during the remainder of October and November may replace a listed project below if I so desire, however, it's unlikely.

~ lastly, no dates will be mentioned. I couldn't live up to that -it made writing feel more like a chore than a hobby.

Reminder ~ do not spam me with requests through the forum or in PMs. I had an experience with a fan like that. It made writing unbearable for a while.

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Cross My Heart and Hope to Die (chapter 2 and 3)

Hireath GXMXG (tentacle monster) teaser 2 + 3

You Need Me (Geto Suguru x Reader) prt 3

Kylar x Reader fan request

Nicole x Reader fan request

Crispin x Reader fan request

(listing order does not indicate the order of release)

Follow my socials!

ig = lil.thoughts.xo Wattpad = @ calypssee, #second.thoughts

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It’s official, I’m coming back. I’ve been lost in too many stories.

Ones where I’m the unreliable narrator. Ones that made me feel unmotivated at hours I’ll usually write.

It’s always one thing or another. Never accountability. But, I desire to continue what I’ve started.

have many ideas that I wish to share and it’s unfair to remain silent as I have.

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Told you Jeffery's a freak. He's down for Kylar~ I guess he couldn't find a 40-foot cat woman with huge jugs to step on him.

Kylar is scared/srs

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{Quotes:Nitya prakash/Richard siken ,crush}

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