#calyx
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rene-elric · 2 months ago
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Seekers of Eternity
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knightskuld · 2 months ago
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running sphene.exe
observing her memories!
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machinepiece · 2 months ago
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curepixie · 2 months ago
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qle-mentine · 9 months ago
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Past and present
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jumpingjollyrancher · 2 months ago
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It's crazy how they added Nomura to the writing team for this patch!
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trishabeakens · 1 year ago
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Doodles of my DWD OC Calyx, the evil rabbit AI software from EIB (Kimbra's story).
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leoninaiart · 2 months ago
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Most tired looking 12 year old i've ever seen
(ik he's like +400 y/o but yk)
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kokoakoka · 2 months ago
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windupaymeric · 2 months ago
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...heh.
Calyx is Latin for 'husk' or 'pod'
🙂
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suspicious-pools-of-blood · 2 months ago
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I've Missed You
This piece picks up where The Woman in Red leaves off. If you haven't read that one yet, go do that first! Thank you to @literary-dandy and @shiryawashere for the beta reads and emotional support; anything that still sucks is probably due to me not listening to them.
CW: angst, violence against a sex worker (idk if that constitutes its own CW? feels more charged), brief mention of noncon and whipping, mostly just angst in this one though
At the end of that conversation with Esir, when I told them the truth they had never known about their mother, they had said they would not want to find her again. But later that night, after I had dismissed Esir, I was the one who lay awake thinking of Hekate.
Frankly, I hadn’t thought about her in years. She was from another life, when I was a kid and still knew how to love. Not to say I loved her, mind you; I was under no illusions that this was an equal relationship. No, she was a brothel slave and I paid her mistress to let me fuck her.
It was no grand decision that I made. I sent one of my Shadows to find out what happened to her and moved on. Except that I didn’t move on, not really; once invited in by that conversation with Esir, Hekate danced her way into my dreams and through to my waking thoughts.
The woman in red, Esir had called her. That was how I had first met her, and it was how she showed up in my dream that night, when I fell asleep thinking of her for the first time in a decade—a dress the color of freshly spilled blood, and lips stained to match.
It was also how she was the last night I saw her, right after my wedding with Theos, when I was angry with the world and needed to take it out on someone. The one time I truly hurt her.
It did not take long for the Shadow to track her down. She had gotten out of the brothel some years ago on the generosity of a patron who had taken her as a concubine. I thought that knowledge would be sufficient to sate my curiosity, but she continued to appear in my mind, refusing to leave me alone.
Above all, I saw her in Esir. It had never struck me before, but knowing the relation now, I couldn’t help but notice how similar Esir and Hekate’s facial expressions were in the throes of climax.
I went to see Hekate at her house. It was purchased and owned by her patron, as was everyone who lived in it. My bodyguards waited outside while I was let in; the servant led me through the front of the house to an inner courtyard hidden from the entrance. The courtyard was arranged around a fountain happily babbling in the center, surrounded by a ring of stone benches; instead of walls, airy archways led back into the house on each side. The columns of the arches were covered in vines of honeysuckle and jasmine that latched onto the second story walls and caused an overpoweringly sweet smell to hang in the air, making the open space feel more enclosed than it was.
She was draped across a bench in the shade when I entered. I had not given the servant at the door my real name (I was already surprised they didn’t recognize my face, and I didn’t want to push my luck) nor the name Hekate knew me by (she would surely decline to see me) so Hekate had no way to know who was here to see her. I had only said that I was an old acquaintance; “friend” seemed too generous.
She sat up languidly as I approached. The years barely showed in her face, still as beautiful as when I first met her. I wasn’t sure where to begin, so I pulled my hood back to reveal my face. I saw uncertainty dance across her expression as she tried to place where she knew me from. I ran my fingers through my hair, messing it up a bit, a move that Hekate recognized as belonging to that nervous seventeen year old she had met in the Red Cypress so many years ago.
“Kıvanç,” Hekate breathed. She quickly rose to her feet, her poise momentarily forgotten, then froze, uncertain of how to react to the situation. I saw a flicker of fear in her eyes and she quickly glanced around to see if any of the servants were nearby.
“Hekate,” I said softly. She stiffened ever so slightly, then plastered a polite smile onto her face.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“I haven’t worked in the brothel in many years.”
“I know. I’m not here for your services.”
I tried to assume the least threatening pose I could muster, which went against all the ways I had trained my body to hold itself since I was a child. I clasped my hands in front of me, planted my feet shoulder-width apart, and tilted my head down. Hekate didn’t relax, but she didn’t look about to run or call for help. Good enough for me.
“You’ve been on my mind,” I tried again. “I wanted to see how you were doing. Not too bad, it seems.” I gestured around the courtyard.
“My patron is very generous to me.” The put-on smile was back.
“I hope he treats you well.”
There was a brief moment of silence. The smile faltered slightly. “Like I said, he is very generous.”
“Do you want for anything?”
“I don’t need your charity, Kıvanç.”
A pause.
“You know Kıvanç isn’t really my name.”
Hekate nodded imperceptibly. “I know.” She let her gaze wander around the courtyard. In a voice barely above a whisper, she asked, “You are the Regent, aren’t you?”
It wasn’t a question. I nodded.
She took a deep breath. “Why are you really here? What do you want from me?” What can I give you to make you leave?
I half shrugged. “I wanted to talk.”
“About what?”
“Nothing in particular.” I wandered over to the fountain and put my hand under the falling water, letting the rivulets dance over and through my fingers on their way down to the basin below.
“You tracked me down after fifteen years to talk about nothing? Surely you have more important things to do.”
Watching the light shimmering across the surface of the water in the basin, the words slipped out like the water in my hand.
“I've missed you.”
I didn't mean to say it out loud. A bird chirped in the ensuing silence.
“Do you expect me to say the same?”
“Well, no, I—”
“I spent months after that night dreading that you would come back to the brothel.” She gave a humourless laugh. “Yet at the same time, some part of me almost wanted to see you again.”
“Why?”
“Why?” she echoed. “That's precisely the reason. I wanted to know why. Why was that night different? You had never laid a hand on me before. It wasn't just the wine; I'd seen you more drunk than that in the past. What changed?”
I shook the water from my hand and turned back to Hekate.
“Everything,” I said. “Everything changed.”
Hekate studied me carefully. “That was the day of your wedding, wasn't it?”
I nodded absently. “It was also when the news of the massacre of Atalar reached Korsan. I was informed that my people had been slaughtered and almost everyone I knew was dead—in the middle of the celebration that locked the chains shackling me to this place.”
Hekate was silent for a long time. Her initial expression of surprise—perhaps even compassion—was short-lived, and when she glared at me it was with barely concealed loathing.
“That’s it, then? You really are no different than the rest of them.”
The skin on the back of my neck prickled. Before I could stop myself, I had lunged at Hekate; the next thing I knew, my hand was at her throat and her back was against one of the columns surrounding the courtyard.
My reaction probably surprised me more than it did Hekate, as the initial shock of being slammed into the column did not last. She realized how much that comparison got under my skin, and now with renewed confidence, despite my fingers digging into either side of her neck, she pushed further.
“I was just an object to you, a tool to make yourself feel better. Just like we all were to the patrons of that place.”
“I am not like them!” I shouted. I didn't care if the servants heard me anymore. “You don't know what it's like to lose everyone you love and be powerless to do anything about it.”
“I don't know what it's like?” she spat. “I lost my child!”
“At least your child is still alive!”
The silence that followed was deafening. I let go of her and took a step back. All indignation was forgotten.
“What did you just say?”
It was a mistake to come out here this day. It was a mistake to ever try to see Hekate again, having the knowledge I had. There was no way that this meeting could ever have gone well.
“Kıvanç, what do you mean by that?” A note of desperation had entered her voice as she stepped closer.
“I meant nothing,” I said harshly. “I should not have come here.”
But it was too late.
“What do you know about my child?”
She grabbed the front of my shirt in both fists to try to shake the truth out of me, though with her small stature she did nothing more than wrinkle the fabric. I grabbed both her wrists to make her stop.
“Where are they? What happened to them?”
In a strained voice, I said, “They are what they sought to avoid becoming.”
“What?” Hekate breathed. “They are back in a brothel?”
“Nothing so nice as that.”
The confusion written across her face was saturated with anguish. She did not know exactly what had happened, but she knew it was something terrible, and she knew I had a hand in it.
“What did you do to them? Kıvanç!” She tried to pummel the truth out of my chest, but I maintained my grip on her wrists.
“I did not know it was them.” I don’t know why, but I needed her to understand that. I was still holding her wrists and my whole body trembled with the effort to stay composed as I spoke the sentence she was dreading. The truth. “I destroyed your child.”
She did not respond. A brothel slave knows how to control the emotions she displays, but I could feel the rage barely contained within her.
Through gritted teeth and hot tears, she spat out, “I hate you.” The grimace exposed the gap in her teeth that I had given her the last time we met.
“I know.”
“Where are they?”
“In my palace.”
“Do they...do they remember me at all?”
“They remember you, vaguely. They know now who you are. But you would hardly recognize them.”
“Can I see them?”
“I do not think that would be wise—”
“I don’t care what you think.”
“They do not want to see you.”
She struggled to wrest out of my grip. I let her go.
“Let me see my child.”
I took a deep breath and made a decision.
“Very well.”
The journey back to the palace was tense, and we were both eager to be done with it.
“Wait here and I will have them brought to you.”
“No. Take me to them. Right now.”
I shot her a warning look that told her she wouldn’t like what she saw, but she did not back down. I sighed.
“All right.” I motioned for us to be left alone. “Come with me.”
I led her down the winding corridors to the royal quarters. She glanced around as we went, taking in the inside of the palace, but did not slow her pace. We arrived at my chambers and I dismissed the guard posted outside, then, once they were gone, I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped aside to let Hekate in.
At the first sound of my arrival, Esir had scrambled down from their perch in the window to kneel on the floor, palms resting on their thighs, facing the door with their head bowed deep. Hekate stood frozen for a moment, taking in the sight in front of her. They had on only a loincloth and collar; scars and bruises littered their body and my tamga was starkly visible burned into their chest.
“Calyx,” she breathed.
Esir’s head snapped up at the sound of that name. They stared uncomprehending at Hekate for a long moment before their eyes grew wide in surprise and confusion. They looked to me, but I forced myself to remain expressionless. This was not something I wanted to manipulate them about in this moment. Their eyes darted between Hekate and myself in increasing agitation, breaths coming faster and shallower, before they became overwhelmed and dropped their head to stare at the floor as they shrank into themself. I could see them gripping their knees tightly, digging their fingers in to try to stay composed; their little frame trembled with the effort of keeping their sobs in, but the silent tears fell anyway, disappearing into the fur of the rug beneath them.
Hekate took a step forward. I put my hand on her shoulder, not to physically stop her, but to make her reconsider her decision. She just shook me off and ran to Esir, dropping to her knees before them to be at their level.
“Calyx,” she repeated.
They did not shift their gaze from where it was riveted to the floor between their knees. She reached out to touch them, and, seeing her hand about to make contact, they scrambled backwards to get away. She pulled her hand back as if it had been burned.
“Calyx, please, say something,” she begged.
Esir clenched their jaw and looked at the floor, at me, at the walls, anywhere but at their mother. She lifted a hand to touch their cheek but they flinched back violently and retreated again until their back hit the wall. Like a cornered animal, they whimpered quietly, looking desperately at me over Hekate’s shoulder. I stepped forward and put my hand on Hekate’s upper arm to gently but firmly pull her away. At the feeling of my hand on her, Hekate arose, spun around, and tried to slap me across the face; I caught her wrist with one hand before she could make contact.
“What did you do to them?” she screamed through her tears.
Through gritted teeth, I said, “I warned you this was not a good idea.” I shot a glance at the cowering figure in the corner. “Esir, go to my bedroom. Close the door.” They quickly did as they were told.
“Why?” Hekate said, more than asked. “Why do you do this? Why do you need to hurt people?”
Because it’s the only way I can still feel. Because I don’t know how to have any other kind of relationship. Because I have forgotten how to love. “Because I can.”
“There is something deeply wrong with you, you know that, right?”
“I know.”
“Please...” Her anger was overshadowed by pained desperation. “Let them go.”
“I cannot do that. They know too much.”
“How is that their fault?”
“It is not. But they would be a liability if they were no longer totally under my control. Would you rather they be enslaved or dead?”
I knew I was being more cruel than necessary, but it was certainly effective. Hekate seemed to crumple in on herself at that.
In a much quieter voice, she asked, “Why won’t they say anything?”
“Because I have beaten it into them awfully well that they are forbidden from ever speaking to anybody other than me. Like I said... They know too much.”
Later that night, when Hekate was gone, and Esir and I were alone in my chambers, I took out all my pent-up stress on them. I beat them brutally and made them thank me for it. I fucked them until the merest touch between their legs caused them to cry out in pain. I whipped them until their back was bloody and they sobbed uncontrollably, then made them kneel at attention for the better part of an hour as the blood dripped down their back and onto the floor before eventually drying to a dark brown.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“My name is Esir.”
“Where do you come from?”
“I have never existed outside this palace.”
“Who do you worship? Who is your god?”
“You are, Master. I live only for you.”
I kept going until Esir looked like they would collapse, then I threw them down and fucked them on the floor. Once I had come and my breathing was back to normal, I brought over a bowl of fresh water and a soft cloth and began to clean the wounds on their back, gingerly wiping away the dried blood and dirt. By the time I finished, the water in the bowl had become a reddish pink, and, upon giving them permission, Esir collapsed face down onto the soft bed, utterly spent and in desperate need of rest.
Hekate was nowhere to be found in their thoughts by now, as had been my intention, but she still plagued me, her anguished screams echoing in my mind when she saw for herself what I had really meant when I told her I had destroyed her child.
As I lay in bed beside them, I considered feeling guilty. I weighed the options, but it turned out that guilt would be the least productive way to feel. Nobody would win. I cannot ever let Esir go. They have heard and seen too much. I could cut out their tongue, but that is not a guarantee of completely preventing communication; nor would it do much if they somehow learned to write. Of course, the most reasonable solution would be to put them to death, but…
I rolled over onto my side, propped myself up on my elbow, and let my gaze wander over the unconscious figure beside me on the bed. I ghosted my fingertips over their back, tracing the lacerations left by my whip. The truth was—I didn’t want to let them go. I could justify it to myself with arguments of them being a liability, which were certainly true and overrode any reason to let them go, but I enjoyed them too much to give them up. Their face was turned toward me, slightly squished against the mattress, their lips enticingly parted; a thick stray curl hung over one eye. They were of such a pristine beauty, a beauty that could never be marred by a blade or a lash. I made a decision in that moment. Esir belonged to me. I was not beholden to a prostitute for anything; she had no power over me, and I would put her in her place.
Tag list: @literary-dandy @evilwriter37
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stopandlook · 1 year ago
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Scientific Name: Oenothera speciosa Common Name(s): Pinkladies, pink evening primrose Family: Onagraceae (evening primrose) Life Cycle: Perennial Leaf Retention: Semi-evergreen Habit: Forb USDA L48 Native Status: Native Location: Plano, Texas Season(s): Spring
I’m, like, irrationally obsessed with these sepals.
One peculiar characteristic of Oenothera flowers is the tendency for their sepals to fuse at the tips, forming a pennant to one side of the stem. And I think the ones in this particular patch have more swag than usual. Instead of just plain green, these are injected with yellow (chartreuse?) and bordered with sharp red stripes so they really stand out. It’s like someone who is traditional enough to wear regimental ties yet chic enough to toss them insouciantly to one side. Oh, so good.
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bloodlustmitaka · 1 year ago
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clássico
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goodappleapyl · 22 days ago
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L̷̴̴̩̪̭͉̳͖̤̟̮̮͈͖̲̝͑̈́͑ͤͥ̊̋ͯ̋̇̚͜ͅį̷̝͔̲̣̩̝̘̔͂̿̕̕͟v̶̸̸̱̯̫͙̱̟̦̙̲̻̭̣͈̦͖̑̿́ͭ͂̐ͭ͑̊̃̋́̽̀͛ͣͦ̓̃̊͘͜͟͞i̵̸͖̖̹̥̱̻̱͋́̐͌ͪ̉́̈ͭ̀̋͊̄̚͜͟͜͡n̴̳̼͎͎ͫ̾̐̈ͯ̕͟͡g̛͓̺̹͓͍̪͎͔̭̈́̐͊ͥ̀ͦ͂́ͣͯ̊̇̓ͤ͜͢͟͡_̜̦̹̜͍̝͋̊͒̅̋͝͞ M̶̷̶̷̧̛̲̲̗͔͕͉̦̮̻͇̬̩̔̉̐̿̃ͮ͊̈̑͐̂̇͋͑͆ͦ̋ͤ̒ͫ̕͢͜͠ę̛͇͍̝͛̇͊̅͟m̷̷̵̫̻̤̣̥̼ͩ͐́̓͂ͨ̊͟o̧̯̭̭̞͖̥͌́ͥ̔ͮͬͨͦ̈́ͦͧ̕͝ṟ̶̡̠̦͉̭̺͚̬ͮ͋̃̑͞y̸̵̡̗̤̼̰̠̟̠͙͈̝͇̮̻̔͂̽̃ͦ̆̒ͧ͌̎͛̀̒͗̀́́̀̕͜_̹̆͑
Feat: @starrysnowdrop's Sohna Yaoni and Calyx
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hiddenstashart · 2 days ago
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hauntedunderwoods · 19 days ago
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I think its time to embrace my gremlin nature and stop worrying so much about what people think about every post I make.
I just want to post dumb art and talk about ocs with people, so if you want to be friends and talk about ocs or DND hmu
In the meantime enjoy my DnD character Calyx meeting his God father's for the first time
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