Plant Shelf 🪴

dark academia isn’t just for the humanities: i bring you STEM academia.

observatories. stargazing. biographies of scientists. filling the board end to end with equations. hand-drawn anatomical diagrams. the hazy euphoria after finally finishing an assignment. oppenheimer & frankenstein. the uniformity of a circuit board; the chaos of a programming window. ibm’s a boy and his atom. event horizon telescope’s black hole photo. the wonder of studying anatomy and knowing that’s happening within you. sketching organic compounds that may as well be sigils. studying latin for medical terminology. doing problem sets to classical music.

As she approached, he pats his hands on the box, almost in a bit of warning. But said nothing at the moment, lifting his head a little as he stood up from the box then and nodded at her words as Tali moved to go find boxes to move, “Right. Well, nothing a first aid kit can't fix. So. Hand is still attached.” He replied. Lainn lifts up one of his hands, showing the sore cuts in his palm. Then quickly turned his hand away from the woman, “But no, not hurt. Just clumsy. No need for any infirmary visits. Right?” He questioned toward Tali, who jumped off the truck with an excited agreement to Lainn as he tried to drag a box loose, still. Lainn moved to help pull the box out and nodded as the woman went on, “Yesterday. Later in the afternoon.” Setting the box down while letting Tali believe he had been carrying most of the weight, he pulled away and back to Montana, “So. How are you doing today, and all of that? Great weather today, isn't it." He clapped his hands together, not planning on making any lasting impression or anything. Since he planned on them leaving soon.

She got closer to the man and the kid and was feeling sort of awkward not knowing who they were. "Well, usually when people mention aid kits around here, its because someone has had their hand chopped off or worse." she didn't much censor herself for the kids sake, Montana had a tendency to treat everyone as if they were her peers. "You boys ain't hurt, are ya? We got an infirmary just down the road..." she looks them both over, trying to figure out what might be off but failing at that front. "A-are you....when did you guys get here?"

bought this gem secondhand and can’t get over how stunning it is 🪐 reblog is okay, don’t repost/use

Following his son into the shop, he took a look around, letting Tali free roam for a bit. Crossing his arms under his chest Lainn started over toward an interesting side not sure what he would find anything of worth in the whole place.

Now that Lainn was getting a better look as he closed in on the items that had caught his interest, he was certain there was nothing of worth. Reaching out for one random item, he paused when a voice interrupted him. Glancing over at the stranger when they brought up fighting for a pair of pants. He glanced away, considering for a moment, how that would go.

Sizing them up, he grabbed the pants and ripped them away from the other's grasp, holding them up to look at them more properly, “Too slow.” As the other started to explain themself to him, he narrowed his eyes on them, tilting his head, “Okay?” Great, a pacifist who couldn't decide to be one or not. Just what Lainn figured he always needed in his life.

Lainn bites on his lips, before making a small popping noise and leaning in a little bit toward the other, “I'm also a pacifist. But sometimes, some people need punched right in the jaw. The human shut off button.” Pulling away a little, he holds the pants out for the other to try to grab if they'd wanted to, before pulling it out of reach again, “Okay. Maybe. I'm not a pacifist. I'm actually an escalator of conflict. Since we are exposing.” He turned away leafing through more of these drab clothes, muttering under his breath, “I don't think you are a pacifist, either.” Probably because he suspected that most of the town was in a violent cult.

where: second chance thrift to: open

—

being stuck in this town shaped prison put a limit on the amount of hobbies mason could half-heartedly start and stop when he got bored. but where there's a will there's a way, and he was in desperate need of some kind of distraction. ever since the storm there was a certain unease that had seeped into his skin, even more prevalent than it had been before. it was growing increasingly harder to sit still.

so he decided to go thrift shopping. there was a feeling of normalcy that came with sifting through racks of second hand clothing, even if the options were considerably slimmer than he was used to.

there was already a vague idea bouncing around in his head of how he'd DIY whatever he could salvage into something he wasn't embarrassed to be seen wearing in public. but the hunt was proving harder than he'd thought. cold and slightly shaky hands came up to rest on a hanger, his gaze raked over the item when he noticed the other person in his peripheral vision. " i'm willing to fight over these pants, " he was joking, mostly. " i'm usually a pacifist but desperate times and what not. "

We need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like being banished into forests far from everyone. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.

Franz Kafka

Lainn raised his eyebrows at their echoing, before squinting at the others, in a small moment of quiet. Though as the stranger continued, he is gaze shifted elsewhere as he listened quietly. That did sound very strange. Though, he supposed most coffee tasted terrible, anyway. As he never liked the stuff. Though he would never have described of the times he had tasted it, to be like a burnt tire, “Does it ever get cleaned out?” He chanced asking. Not sure this was the right person to ask. Turning his head from them, he looked about the 'station' where any coffee maker might be, spotting it easily, then giving a 'tsk' toward the look of the thing. It needed to be put out of its misery.

With a hesitating glance back to the other, he further listened to them as they moved their comments on toward him. Moving closer toward the coffee maker, he sighed a bit, begrudging of this newcomer look he was sporting in his being, at the moment. He hated being new to anything. It drew far too much attention than what he really liked, toward himself. Lainn nodded, however, “I'm not really much of a coffee drinker, to be fair.” Though he could, perhaps, help to make the coffee better, if need be. Lainn glanced at them, “Just, getting the lay of the place, I guess you might say.”

“Have you seen me around, huh.” He supposed his exploring was noticed, “I suppose you'd say that is the case. Though I don't drink coffee, I thought there might be something. Maybe tea… But hello. I'm Lainn.” He elegantly held out his hand, gesturing to Tali, “This is my son, you may call him Tali.” Lainn introduced, his eyes on the area of the coffee maker once more, “It is good to meet you Sullivan, I guess?” He grinned, “Absolute loathing might be more descriptive of what I feel toward coffee.” Turning then, he politely took the other's offering for a handshake, giving a strong, good shake before letting go after a respectable amount of time. Then he pointed at the coffee maker, “Who owns it?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Sullivan echoed, their Southern drawl curling around the words. They gestured dramatically at the mug. “You mean aside from the fact it tastes like someone boiled a burnt tire in swamp water and called it a day? Absolutely nothing. Top-notch poison.”

Their grin deepened as their gaze drifted back to Lainn, noting the way he was sizing them up—or maybe just trying to make sense of them. Sullivan let the silence hang for a moment before adding, “Let me guess—you’re not here for the coffee either, are you? No one comes here for this mess unless they’ve lost a bet or all their other bad habits dried up.”

They tilted their head slightly, as if considering something. “I’ve seen you around,” they said, gesturing lazily toward him. “Usually keeping to yourself. Guess the coffee finally broke you down, huh? Name’s Sullivan, by the way. Figured we should get that out of the way since we’re bonding over mutual disdain.” They extended a hand with a crooked grin, their tone a perfect blend of playful and sardonic. “You?”

Looking up, he scrunched on side of his face a bit, shying away from the sunlight a bit before giving a nod at the question, “Yeah.” Lainn replied. He expected to be asked that a lot over the next few days. He hated being new to a place. But, it was also going to happen if he had arrived at his new destination, with new neighbors trying to figure out if he was some kind of psycho or something. Lainn put a box to one side, “I don't? Huh.” He paused to look around them, “Look's a lot like all the other small towns I grew up around-” Lainn stopped, taking in the sites a bit more, “With a bit more swamp. I'd say.” At their next comment, he looked back, giving a look that somewhat could be read as a mute 'you don't say?'. Letting out a breath, however, he looked toward his hands before dropping them away from himself a bit, “Yeah. Could say that.” Though, all things considered, he supposed it wasn't the worst way things could go. Being trapped in a town, by whatever means. With possible cultists. That was a concern, but, as long they didn't look delicious, he supposed he could find a way out before dinner.

Lainn lifted his head a bit, “Yeah?” At least the ones he had met so far all seemed to be really nice for the time being. Playing dumb, he turned his hands out again, “Well, wouldn't want that. Infection isn't good, I hear.” Lainn watched the stranger glance at the moving truck again. He was thinking he should try to move it closer to the house he and Tali were at, just to be safe. Lainn waited quietly for the woman to continue. Then nodded, listening when she had, “Course. Ain't nothing I haven't dealt with before. High school was a real bad time for me.” Lainn added. Of course, because he was weird and had no parents. Most of the 'normal' kid's hated that. Lifting his right hand up, he scratched it through his hair before looking at Tali and then toward the stranger.

“Yeah. Sure. Okay? Advice wouldn't be too bad. Not much of a coffee drink, though.” She probably had a lot more to elaborate than what he had already heard. Lainn decided it wasn't a bad idea to listen to anything anyone had to say around here. Quickly, he moved to pick up the box he moved and shoved it back into its perfectly sized space, before closing and locking the back of the truck again. Gesturing for the woman to lead the way.

mira stood across the street, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, eyes scanning the quiet morning. the town felt like it was still half asleep, and honestly, she wasn't sure how much longer she could stand the strange, unsettled feeling that clung to the air. she'd been in this place a few weeks now, but the unease was constant. it felt like something was always just out of reach — off, in a way she couldn’t quite place. she noticed the pair then, a man and a young boy walking toward a truck. she hadn’t seen them before. new faces, probably. there was something about them that caught her attention — maybe it was the way the man carried himself, stiff and like he was looking for something. or maybe it was the kid’s quiet steps, as though he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to be, either. mira pushed herself off the diner wall and started walking in their direction, eyes narrowed, not sure what she was expecting but feeling a pull to move closer. she slowed as she neared them, her gaze flicking from the man to the kid, then back to the truck. “you new around here?” she asked, her voice direct but not unkind. “you don’t look like you’re from this part of nowhere." she wondered what kind of trouble they were running from — or if they were like her, just stuck in this strange town, hoping for an escape that wasn’t coming. “looks like you’re having a rough start," she added, her eyes landing on his hand. "need help with that? first aid is in my skill set, i can keep that from getting worse." she glanced at the truck, then back to the man, studying him for a moment. there was something almost familiar about him, like she’d seen that guarded look somewhere before. but she didn’t know him. not yet, anyway. the boy, tall for his age but still looking young, was quiet, but there was a protective edge to his gaze as he looked up at the man. it made mira pause, wondering what their story was. “this place isn't exactly easy on newcomers," she said, shrugging slightly. "but if you want a hot coffee or some advice that doesn’t come with a price tag, i’m your girl. can’t promise much else." her tone was lighter now, like she was offering something small but real.

Very Busy People - The Limousines