dr. ian malcolm

“Living systems are never in equilibrium. They are inherently unstable. They may seem stable, but they’re not. Everything is moving and changing. In a sense, everything is on the edge of collapse.” [Indie Jurassic Park RP blog, semi-selective, mun is 21+. Always on the lookout for a future ex-Mrs. Malcolm.]

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hello hello i realise i’ve not been here but i

a) will be back soon and

b) wanna wish @bestintcntions a very happy belated birthday bc it’s What He Deserves

[dailyminimal]

No. 308

A new geometric design every day

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goingtosavethem:

How stupid could she be to actually bring up a terrible experience? Apparently very. She’s mentally facepalming at her idiocy, hoping that the other would be so kind as to forgive her. Was charming something that was apart of her? She highly doubted it but that was beside the point, her mind was getting off track and she was thanking her lucky stars he hadn’t been talking while she was lost in thought. People who saw the news could believe what they wished but she so desperately wished they believed her, that they believed the message she was trying so hard to spread. “I believe it’s best to let them lie for now, I wouldn’t want to stir anything unwanted up. Well then Ian…” Taking a sip from her coffee, she curses as the hot liquid is swallowed. It’ll most definitely begin to warm her up or burn her throat, either one.

The brightest of smiles when Hammond is further brought up, wishing desperately that she could have met him. A belly laugh escapes her, short lived and luckily not loud but it’s there all the less. “You are the first person I’ve heard talk about him like that, though the only other person I’ve heard talk about him is Lockwood. Because of all the things he wanted for the park?”

The chaotician tactfully ignored her burning her tongue, but continue to cool his own coffee with little puffs of breath as he listened to her speak.

“People who pretend he was a monster don’t understand what happened on Nublar,” he said rather bluntly, “But people who pretend he was a saint are deluding themselves.”

To someone who knew him better, the look on Ian’s face might have betrayed the fact that a long-winded tangent was imminent. “Of course, people are never entirely one or the other. Humans are inherently twofold, ah, it’s foolish to kid yourself otherwise. John was a great example of that. His intentions were good—predominantly, at least—but his ideas were terrible. He had vision, yes, but he couldn’t see. Not beyond the imminent. Not beyond showing people a good time, or making money, or seeing his grandkids happy. He lacked the ability to see beyond his own desires, which, ah, I’d say a great many people are guilty of. Don’t you agree?”

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jurassicsniper:

“Coffee is fine,” he replied quietly, flexing his fingers before grabbing the mug again. He took another sip and watched his host cooking. “Ever had kippers?”

“Kippers? No, never. What’s that? Enlighten me.” His tone was conversational, if a little distracted as he busied himself plating up the two portions. Half of why he loved cooking was because it was a surprisingly efficient way of occupying the mind.

[moveslikekeithrichards]

people i havent drawn in 4+ years

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jurassicsniper:

Robert began to hum softly to himself as he did his morning arm stretches. It helped to distract from the pain of his muscles pulling and working. Between exercises, he took sips of his own coffee. “Ah. Burned my tongue,” he muttered, sticking it out briefly to let it cool.

The way his kitchen was arranged allowed Ian to watch his guest’s stretches, the sight causing the corners of his mouth to quirk upwards. He broke each of the eggs neatly into the pan, not wanting to get any egg white anywhere, and watched with satisfaction as they began to fry inside the bread.

“Tsk tsk, impatient.” He tutted. “It’s only now occurring to me, ah, I should have offered you tea.”

[tropicalaestheticc]

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goingtosavethem:

She had wished that they weren’t negative but they had such different views on the dinosaurs that it made it difficult, perhaps difficult to get by. He had his points and she had hers, she would respect his if he would respect hers. It wasn’t hard to notice how his expression changed but she stays as she is, calm and collected. Should she reassure him? “Please call me Claire. No you don’t, I’ve heard multiple stories about back then and honestly even with our differing viewpoints, I can understand.” Claire would continue to fight for them, she always would. “Thanks for the coffee.” The redhead certainly wasn’t going to dash, she would stay and make conversation with him if he wished for that. With a hand, Claire gently reaches for her cup of coffee. There’s slight silence for a moment or two, raising an eyebrow in question. “I don’t want to tire you down with questions or anything but I’m curious, what was Hammond like?”

In some ways things weren’t as easy for Ian. He was so set in his beliefs he found them difficult to look past, especially considering the part the woman—now smiling so charmingly at him—had played in resurrecting the memory of what was undoubtedly the worst thing he could claim to have experienced. No, he couldn’t look past that fact, but he could give her the benefit of the doubt. Set in his beliefs as he was, Ian also knew how much they’d changed over the years. She was so young, and she was trying, wasn’t she? At least that was what the news had led him to believe.

“Right. Claire. Well, I’m sure there are plenty of dusty old bones for us to dig up—or we could just let them lie. For now. You’re, ah, welcome to call me Ian, if you feel so inclined.”

He chuckled, removing the plastic lid to his cup and blowing into it to cool the beverage. A few moments passed as he watched tiny ripples move across the black surface, then he glanced up to meet Claire’s inquisitive gaze. Without knowing it, she had struck on a subject the mathematician could go on about for hours (not that that was a particularly rare occurrence).

“Hammond! John Hammond... what was he like? What wasn’t he like!” Ian laughed and stared ahead for a moment, as though reminiscing. “‘Larger than life’ is a phrase that springs to mind. Stupendous. Like a terrible, capitalist Willy Wonka. Which, now that I come to think of it, ah, actually makes a lotta sense.”

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[continued from x | @endw1gast]

En Dwi stopped in his tracks and looked innocently at Ian. “Ohhh… I said that? I don’t remember.” And then he hurried to put it on, mumbling; “Your planet, it’s too cold! I’m freezing!!”

“Alright, so maybe you didn’t say it! But you, ah, implied it. With your eyes.” He gestured with two fingers to the Grandmaster’s eyes, then back to his own. “And yeah, ah, I had noticed, actually, how cold it is. Because you have my jacket! Give it back!”

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jurassicsniper:

“Black is fine.” He wasn’t much for coffee at all, but he wasn’t going to refuse his host’s hospitality. What he really needed was something to settle his stomach, but he wasn’t one to complain about food, no matter what it was.

"Another thing we have in common,” Ian quipped, as he pushed the undiluted beverage towards his guest, “Whatever next?”

As he waited for his own black coffee to cool, he set about heating a generous amount of butter in a pan while he cut small circles out of slices of bread with practised movements. He was this close to humming to himself, but refrained. Even though not much about his behaviour suggested it, there was such a thing as too much.

[firstclassmovies]

BEYOND THERAPY (1987). Robert Altman directs Jeff Goldblum and Julie Hagerty in an adaptation of the play by Christopher Durang.

[quotemadness]

“I’m not for everyone. I’m barely for me.”

— Marc Maron

[godsbeautifulcreations]

[dadsolo]

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goingtosavethem:

He was nice and that was always a good starting point, that was always a good sign. Scrunching up her nose, another chuckle escapes her lips. “So I’ve heard. Cappuccino with extra shots, I always need all the energy I can get.” Following his gesture to the options displayed, there were so many choices that it was making her head spin. A bright and soft smile graces her features, waving her hand in the air. “It’s fine, really it is. We have met; you’re right. I’m Claire. Claire Dearing.”

"Hm-hm, I know how that is.” The chaotician nodded again, smiling broadly, before turning to the barista and placing both their orders. It wasn’t until he turned back around to face her—extra strong cappuccino in one hand, simple black coffee in the other—that his smile faded. Recognition had dawned at last, and with it a whole wave of associations, most of them negative. Ian quickly made an effort to conjure the smile back onto his face, but it was a little forced this time. It was obvious he’d faltered, and he knew it. He used to be so good at this. “Ms. Dearing, yes. I do remember. I suppose I don’t require, ah, introduction... though whether or not that’s a good thing is negligible at best.” An attempt at covering up his obvious knee-jerk reaction with a dose of his usual dry sense of humour—with the emphasis on ‘attempt’.

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jurassicsniper:

“Sure, if you’re up for it,” he said, looking immensely grateful. “I can’t drink with you anymore. I only nipped down the bar for one or two and now I feel like a lorry hit me.”

Ian chuckled as he poured them two large, steaming mugs of coffee. “Hm-hm. Sorry about that. I, ah, don’t drink like that all the time.” That was half truth at best, he just didn’t always go to bars to do it. “You take milk? Sugar?” Already he was bustling around the kitchen, retrieving bread, eggs, and butter. Ian enjoyed cooking—enjoyed it immensely, in fact—but cooking for one never failed to seem depressing.

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goingtosavethem:

She can’t help but laugh, laugh at herself and at this situation. Claire was honored to be in the doctor’s presence, she had heard very good things over the years ( including the obvious incidents at Jurassic Park but that was far from good. ) “I usually love the freezing weather but not today. That sounds very sensible indeed.” Shrugging the leather jacket off, she offers it back to Malcolm. “Sorry if it kind of smells of perfume…”

“That’s alright,” he chuckled as he slipped back into his trademark jacket, smiling wryly at the redhead, “I’ve survived worse. Now, what’s your caffeinated beverage of choice?” A vague gesture in the barista’s general direction, the vast array of options on display, before he turned back to look at her, squinting slightly. “And I’m afraid you’ll have to, ah, remind me of your name. It’s awful of me, I know, I know we’ve met, I’m positive...”