titanium-arum

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Ragwort

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Tromotriche revoluta var. trigridia, Is a light shade lover that requires desert bushes for the species to flower constantly; with this said it is also quite resistant to the extreme heats that you would expect in it’s native locations. The species is isolated in certain areas of South Africa where winter rainfall occurs in one heavy period that causes water to rest on hydrophobic previously dry rock. The specific areas that this botanical variety occurs are that found only in Clanwilliam and Lutzville of the Republic of South Africa. The flowering periods in situ can be quite subject to change or a prolific and random flowering depending on specific season.

Photographed by: Le Ce

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Anthurium scherzerianum

Flamingo Flower Plant

When I first saw this, I thought somebody had photoshopped an octopus arm onto a flower.

(via)

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Own picture : Passion flower in my garden,  June  2022

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Flowers growing from the trunk of a Syzygium moorei tree in Australia (an example of caulifloric growth)

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Florez is at a loss of words.

The pain is unimaginable, mentally and physically.

They should have questioned jackdaw about the chip they mentioned. Why didn't they question them. Why. WHY?! They're no fucking surgeon but they're close ENOUGH. They could have removed it. Planted it on something. Maybe put it in a steak and fed it to a wolf or something like in that one stupid movie they watched with M-

... All they can do is sob at this point. This is the lowest they can ever remember feeling. Why did they get involved. Why did they get invested. Why did they even care about Malcom. Why do they STILL care about Malcom when he caused this? When all of this overwhelming pain can be drawn back to him?

Those questions won't be solved for a VERY long time.

One of the agents undoes his shirt, exposing his chest. A loose stitch runs down the middle. Forcefully and painfully, the agent peels back the, thousands of thin, worm-like tendrils. One of these tendrils makes its way into the door's lock and picks it. Once it is unlocked, the other two push their way inside. One is a sharp looking woman, and the other is a man with a large suitcase.

Of fucking course.

Florez backs away from the door, flexing the fingers of their massive wrapped hand, blades glimmering from the edge of of the stained linen wrappings around their fingers.

"I see, then. Playing with my own tricks?" Florez scans the agent with his chest peeled open, stepping to the center of the thin hallway. "You dare to mock me with inferior tools?" This one will be ideal to attack first. It clearly took a lot out of them simply to pick the lock, judging from that agony-filled grimace, nor do those tentacles look particularly strong.

They snicker, amused by the audacity of these poor grunts wandering into their forest. "I have a much better use for you useless lot."

They lunge forward suddenly with their bladed hand, plunging the razor edges of their fingers easily into the agent's pre-opened chest, threading between their ribs, grabbing at their sternum in the center of their chest.

"Plant food."

Jackdaw can hear everything. Ideally, they should be in the study, take the book, and be booking it far, far away. Florez just needs to stall.

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Florez continues to struggle, and struggle, and...

Eventually, crumple to their knees. A sob chokes in their throat as they look up at the ceiling. They refuse to look at their assailants at this point.

"... Fine. Fine, I'll tell you all." They take a shaky breath in and out. Their voice is wavering. "They're going west. Through the forest. If you head now you can cut them off at the shoreline."

It isn't much of a lie in the slightest. Just a tiny misdirection.

All they can hope for is that they get picked off by whatever bear traps are left.

One of the agents undoes his shirt, exposing his chest. A loose stitch runs down the middle. Forcefully and painfully, the agent peels back the, thousands of thin, worm-like tendrils. One of these tendrils makes its way into the door's lock and picks it. Once it is unlocked, the other two push their way inside. One is a sharp looking woman, and the other is a man with a large suitcase.

Of fucking course.

Florez backs away from the door, flexing the fingers of their massive wrapped hand, blades glimmering from the edge of of the stained linen wrappings around their fingers.

"I see, then. Playing with my own tricks?" Florez scans the agent with his chest peeled open, stepping to the center of the thin hallway. "You dare to mock me with inferior tools?" This one will be ideal to attack first. It clearly took a lot out of them simply to pick the lock, judging from that agony-filled grimace, nor do those tentacles look particularly strong.

They snicker, amused by the audacity of these poor grunts wandering into their forest. "I have a much better use for you useless lot."

They lunge forward suddenly with their bladed hand, plunging the razor edges of their fingers easily into the agent's pre-opened chest, threading between their ribs, grabbing at their sternum in the center of their chest.

"Plant food."

Jackdaw can hear everything. Ideally, they should be in the study, take the book, and be booking it far, far away. Florez just needs to stall.

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They're in too much pain to respond. Florez sets a foot on the chest of the agent, tears streaming from their eyes as they tug at their trapped arm, the muscles threatening to tear off completely at this point.

One of the agents undoes his shirt, exposing his chest. A loose stitch runs down the middle. Forcefully and painfully, the agent peels back the, thousands of thin, worm-like tendrils. One of these tendrils makes its way into the door's lock and picks it. Once it is unlocked, the other two push their way inside. One is a sharp looking woman, and the other is a man with a large suitcase.

Of fucking course.

Florez backs away from the door, flexing the fingers of their massive wrapped hand, blades glimmering from the edge of of the stained linen wrappings around their fingers.

"I see, then. Playing with my own tricks?" Florez scans the agent with his chest peeled open, stepping to the center of the thin hallway. "You dare to mock me with inferior tools?" This one will be ideal to attack first. It clearly took a lot out of them simply to pick the lock, judging from that agony-filled grimace, nor do those tentacles look particularly strong.

They snicker, amused by the audacity of these poor grunts wandering into their forest. "I have a much better use for you useless lot."

They lunge forward suddenly with their bladed hand, plunging the razor edges of their fingers easily into the agent's pre-opened chest, threading between their ribs, grabbing at their sternum in the center of their chest.

"Plant food."

Jackdaw can hear everything. Ideally, they should be in the study, take the book, and be booking it far, far away. Florez just needs to stall.

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Florez shrieks in pain, their own blood now mixing with the blood dribbling from the agent's open chest.

Jokes on them for hoping Malcom was in his right mind. This is so clearly his handiwork. Just more of the one of a kind horrors only he could make. Of COURSE he couldn't have done something to impair them. Of fucking course. He's a "doctor". He "heals". He "improves". He couldn't make something bad.

Even if it costed him the people he cares for.

Florez pulls their shoulder back, bringing the agent within distance to be subdued. The agent is slammed into the ground, Florez on top of him. They're now attacking him mercilessly with their normal hand. Punching, grabbing between the gap in the jaws at what could possibly be vital organs, anything in a desperate attempt to free themself.

The bookcase entrance should be closed now. There is no chance they get to Jackdaw. Right.

Right?

One of the agents undoes his shirt, exposing his chest. A loose stitch runs down the middle. Forcefully and painfully, the agent peels back the, thousands of thin, worm-like tendrils. One of these tendrils makes its way into the door's lock and picks it. Once it is unlocked, the other two push their way inside. One is a sharp looking woman, and the other is a man with a large suitcase.

Of fucking course.

Florez backs away from the door, flexing the fingers of their massive wrapped hand, blades glimmering from the edge of of the stained linen wrappings around their fingers.

"I see, then. Playing with my own tricks?" Florez scans the agent with his chest peeled open, stepping to the center of the thin hallway. "You dare to mock me with inferior tools?" This one will be ideal to attack first. It clearly took a lot out of them simply to pick the lock, judging from that agony-filled grimace, nor do those tentacles look particularly strong.

They snicker, amused by the audacity of these poor grunts wandering into their forest. "I have a much better use for you useless lot."

They lunge forward suddenly with their bladed hand, plunging the razor edges of their fingers easily into the agent's pre-opened chest, threading between their ribs, grabbing at their sternum in the center of their chest.

"Plant food."

Jackdaw can hear everything. Ideally, they should be in the study, take the book, and be booking it far, far away. Florez just needs to stall.

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One of the agents undoes his shirt, exposing his chest. A loose stitch runs down the middle. Forcefully and painfully, the agent peels back the, thousands of thin, worm-like tendrils. One of these tendrils makes its way into the door's lock and picks it. Once it is unlocked, the other two push their way inside. One is a sharp looking woman, and the other is a man with a large suitcase.

Of fucking course.

Florez backs away from the door, flexing the fingers of their massive wrapped hand, blades glimmering from the edge of of the stained linen wrappings around their fingers.

"I see, then. Playing with my own tricks?" Florez scans the agent with his chest peeled open, stepping to the center of the thin hallway. "You dare to mock me with inferior tools?" This one will be ideal to attack first. It clearly took a lot out of them simply to pick the lock, judging from that agony-filled grimace, nor do those tentacles look particularly strong.

They snicker, amused by the audacity of these poor grunts wandering into their forest. "I have a much better use for you useless lot."

They lunge forward suddenly with their bladed hand, plunging the razor edges of their fingers easily into the agent's pre-opened chest, threading between their ribs, grabbing at their sternum in the center of their chest.

"Plant food."

Jackdaw can hear everything. Ideally, they should be in the study, take the book, and be booking it far, far away. Florez just needs to stall.

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Ah, a brand new lab.

Walking in, the room is fresh, smelling of sterile equipment and.. some kind of peppermint scent..? The harsh tang of chemicals and mint isn't exactly the most wonderful combination.

As Malcom tours this new lair office of his, he comes across the operation room.

A fresh cadaver is left on the operation table, set holding a burning peppermin-scented candle.

They're black and blue from head to toe with bruises of varying ages, implying whoever had their hands of this poor sap had them for probably about a week. Time of death is clearly recent. Cause of death? Drowned in their own blood. Windpipe was punctured, and their eyelids seem to have been forcefully clawed open. Whoever caused this wanted to see the life fade from this person's eyes that badly? Hm.

A soft giggle was heard around the corner as Malcom inspects the body. Yet, as he runs to investigate, Malcom finds nothing but a note written in messy cursive.

"Welcome home~<3"

Sweet Satan! Did they kill someone just to give the body to me? That's... Good! Very good! Just swell!

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For miles, you hear thumping like a marching band of soldiers. When they arrive, it’s three men in suits knocking on your door. Their faces are unimportant. They wear Corp logos on their lapels.

The one in the middle speaks first.

“Good afternoon. Doctor Florez, is it? I would like to request a meeting to discuss a matter of urgency regarding a hero who may be residing on your property. This piece of property belongs to one of our overseers.”

From those miles apon miles, they must be tired. They must be few in number. They must've had set off tons of traps. Sadly, the three at their door don't sound like they had been injured by anything.

Florez looks through the peephole in their door, analyzing the three figures at the front door.

Thankfully this is the only entrance. It should be.

"Property? You mean- ah. You mean the hero, right? Sorry. He isn't here. I...."

While they aren't the most skilled linguist, their monotone voice betrays their fear and anticipation. They need a lie. And quick.

"... I'll have hell to pay if I don't give their location, right? I know how your people work." They sigh heavily, feigning a moment of consideration.

"Fine. Fine. They fled to the west after I patched them up. They should be in a cabin a few miles away. There's a bunker behind the bookshelf. I'm. ....... Don't tell them I sent you."

Florez crosses their fingers, hoping they fall for it. Once they leave, Florez and Jackdaw can take the path behind the bookshelf. It runs east for miles. If they take the book, they won't figure out how to open the path. They just need to buy it. Please.

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I'll continue to face towards the sun even if it blinds me, Arum. You know me.

I'll keep those weeds out of the garden, friend. Promise.

Stick to the inner rooms and the growhouse.

If you need an escape from it all, too much attention on you, take a look down a rabbit hole.

I need to go out for a walk. Stay safe.

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i’m sorry i led them right to you. i was selfish

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You best be prepared! I'll have you remember I know the safe route to your house! - @dr-vulture

And you know good and well that that path is gone, now.

Making sure of it.