𝙱𝙰𝙳𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙸𝚃𝙴.

𝙸𝚃'𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙸-𝙽𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴.

[veriforman]

ellie  keeps  us  going.     she’s  very  good  at  what  she  does.     what  does  she  do?     PALEOBOTANY.

indie  writing  blog  for  ellie  sattler  of  the  jurassic  park  franchise.     refers  to  a  mixed  canon  of  films,  novels,  and  original  lore  shared  with  ianmalcolm.     currently  low-activity,  perpetually  lurking.     carrd.

[deadpoets]

LAURA DERN as ELLIE SATTLER Jurassic Park (1993) dir. Steven Spielberg

[veriforman]

jp only franchise where i'm begging them to stop making new movies

[nicola-coughlan]

#alexa play jealousy jealousy

[timebombtown]

Smooth Talk (Joyce Chopra, 1985)

[veriforman]

shediver·:

❛❛        BY    DEFINITION,    YOU    HAVE    TO    LIVE    UNTIL    YOU    DIE.    Better    to    make    that    life    as    complete    and    enjoyable    an    experience    as    possible,    in    case    death    is    shite,    which    I    suspect    it    will    be.        ❜❜

  @veriforman       |         ✐  

‘‘   i don’t disagree,  but...  isn’t that just another way to dread death?   living in complete defiance of it,  saying you’re not scared of what’s inevitable?   ’’     argument for argument’s sake.   ellie likes stretching the theoretical out on her tongue,  mouthing hellos to every idea it touches.     ‘‘   you’ll never be ready for death when it comes.   ’’

[ianmalcolm-deactivated20231125]

memes that will never cease to be accurate.

[veriforman]

ellie didn’t stop to think.     she just turned and ran, as fast as she could, toward the far end of the lodge.  she ran, not hearing the animals pursuing her, just hearing her own breath.  she rounded the corner, saw a tree growing by the side of the building, and leapt, grabbing a branch, swinging up.  she didn’t feel panic.  she felt a kind of exhilaration as she kicked and saw her legs rise up in front of her face, and she hooked her legs over a branch farther up, tightened her gut, and pulled up quickly.

[veriforman]

@nightbuzz​​:

so     much     for     lazy     sunlit     mornings   !     tongue   -   tied     and     withholding     words,     she     sits     there     swathed     in     gold     and     grinning.     (   that     is,     he     sees     it     in     her     eyes   ;     brother     to     brother     to     lawfully   -   wedded   -   wife,     this     kind     of     teasing     tussle     is     far     from     unfamiliar   )     THE     DUST     OF     THE     UNIVERSE     FLOATS     BETWEEN     THEM,     a     silvery,     shimmering     veil     caressed     by     light     from     a     hundred     million     miles     away     or     thereabouts     [   …   ]     it     seems     that     time     here     has     stilled,     this     golden     morning     already     cast     eternal     in     is     future     memories.     ‘   you     know,     some     might     call     this     blackmail.   ’     BASTET     WOULD     AGREE,     SURELY     ———     as     he     shifts     and     sits,     she     stretches,     bares     teeth     and     claws     in     a     savage     sort     of          yawn,     tail     twitching,     tenebrous,     from     side     to     side.     on     the     whole,     though     ———     IT’S     SOMETHING     OF     A     SMALL     SACRIFICE   ;     crossword     on     the     coffee     table,     he     heads     for     the     kitchen,     in     search     of     something     to     trade     in     the     pursuit     of     knowledge.          

laziness has no place in her world    :    every moment spent in motion,  every breath a chance to prove herself over again     (     existence never stops being a competition.   winning only pushes her further,  takes her higher.   her family,  her work,  these small pleasures of golden hours and coffee on the way,  she can see herself running toward them for the rest of her days.     ).   the pad of her finger lifts and taps a dark leaf,  the lone sign of life stemming from a potted episcia on the windowsill beside her.   cleo,  she named it.     ❝   mm,  i’d call it a partnership.   ❞     behind jacob’s back,  her lips twitch into a smile.   there’s a virtue in wanting answers the way he does,  the way ian does,  too,  facts stamped in solid black with no space for someone like ellie to question further   ;   but just as she’s made the space for herself her entire life,  she dangles seven letters in front of him now and urges him to look closer.     ❝   quid pro quo,  whatever you want   –   can you bring me a cup of water,  too?   not too cold,  please.   ❞

[veriforman]

@paleontolgy   ...   you’ll be alright in the morning.

with any luck,  she won’t remember this in the morning.  the night will blur itself away,  leaving behind a nightmare and the fresh kick of their sheets for emptiness.    ❝   yeah,   ❞    her dry mouth mumbles.  she twists herself up from bed,  a phantom soreness wrapped around her legs.  in her dreams,  she’s always running.  some nights she can feel hot breath at the back of her neck and dares herself to catch a glimpse of what’s after her  ;  others,  she only hears the furious rustle of leaves and lets memory fill in the picture.  neither is better than the other.  she wakes up in the same sweat and wrings out the same sigh that desperately wants to be a yawn   (   she’s been tired every morning of her life,  chasing after a doctorate late night after late night,  roused to the badlands and beating the sunrise there,  but she never knew sleeplessness like this until it started being strangled from her.   ).    ❝   i don’t think i can go back to sleep.   ❞    she doesn’t want to try.  ellie drags a hand through her damp hair,  eyes staring dully ahead.

[veriforman]

‘     don’t.     ’          the  fond  sharpness  of  her  voice,   eternally  in  the  half  -  pursuit  to  quiet  his  charm  when  it’s  this  overwhelmingly  sweet     :     but  her  mouth’s  twisted  into  a  smile,   one  that  lets  him  know  he’s  already  won  this  round.          ‘     i  hate  it  when  you  say  stuff  like  that.     you  get  so   ---   hm.     ’          on  a  frustrating  cue,   warmth  blossoms  across  her  cheeks     (     feels  like  the  kind  of  sunburn  the  badlands  would  leave  her  with,   red  and  rewarding     )     ;     to  bury  it,   ellie  leans  into  ian,   comfortably  fit  against  his  chest.          ‘     you  know?     you’re  annoying.     ’

@ianmalcolm   ...   i’m the luckiest man alive.

[veriforman]

webspin:

long   -   legged,    catlike   :     a    couch,     a     sunspot.     BASTET,    GODDESS     OF     THE    SUN     [   …   ]     a    cat     in     earnest,     curled    up     and     purring    by     his     ribcage.     TAP  -   TAP   -   TAP   :     he     drums    the     end     of    the     pen     against    his     lips,     looks    purposely     pensive     as    ellie,     off     to    the     side,     makes    her     way     about    her     morning     routine.     (   it     is    so     easy     to    feel     at     home    in     his     brother’s     house    ———     this     room    teems     with     life,    all     kinds     of    it,     and     ellie’s    presence     is     warm    enough     to     match    the     sunshine   )     ‘   seven    across   :     genus     of    small,     colourful     cacti    from     south     america,     also    known     as     crown    cacti.   ’     it’s    hardly     cheating     [  …   ]     CALL    IT     RESEARCH   !     in     any    case     ———     it’s    not     like     it’s    rocket     science. 

A  FAMILY  IN  BLOOM     :     the  space  around  ellie  is  a  microcosm  of  salvaged  circumstance     (     ian  would  explain  it  as  something  of  chaos,   but  she  prefers  to  think  of  it  as  something  more  controlled,   closer  to  fate,   if  the  universe  would  allow  them  that  kind  of  fortune     ).     she’s  found  a  familiar  spot  at  her  window  seat,   soft  morning  light  illuminating  the  plants  lined  along  shelves.          ‘     crown  cacti...     ’          she  echoes,   needless     :     the  answer  already  lies  on  her  tongue,   held  there  only  by  something  akin  to  sibling  rivalry.     this  kind  of  pettiness  is  one  that  extends  from  brother  malcolm  to  brother  malcolm,   &   now,   to  the  newly  inducted  wife.     she  glances  over  at  jacob,   at  bastet     ;     a  nod  of  her  head  gestures  to  the  adjacent  kitchen.          ‘     go  grab  my  coffee  off  the  keurig  for  me,   &   i’ll  give  you  the  answer.     ’

[oceans]

“I have done nothing all summer but wait for myself to be myself again —”

— Georgia O’Keeffe, in a letter to Russel Vernon Hunter, from Georgia O’Keeffe: Art and Letters (via luthienne)

[veriforman]

❝     yours  are  just  freezing.     ❞          freezing,   and  ellie  feels  it.     it’s  easy  to  forget  how  cold  colorado  nights  get  when  she’s  so  thoroughly  adapted  to  them,   but  the  lacework  of  his  fingers  against  hers  keep  her  reminded  of  the  chill.     she’d  feel  bad  for  dragging  him  out,   if  it  weren’t  for  her  internal  monologue  waxing  poetic     ---     something  about  moonlight,   then  something  about  clichés.     she  can  afford  a  cliché  or  two,   she  decides.          ❝     i’m  used  to  the  cold.     and  the  hot,   i  guess.     perks  of  spending  most  of  your  professional  life  in  deserts.     here.     ❞          the  beaten  leather  of  her  jacket  gets  slipped  off  her  shoulders,   draped  across  his     ;     it’s  an  unexceptional  piece  of  fabric,   tattered  and  dust  -  whipped,   that  doesn’t  look  a  thing  like  an  item  out  of  ian’s  own  closet     ---     the  contrast  ties  a  smile  into  ellie’s  voice.          ❝     you  look  like  you  need  it  more  than  i  do.     ❞

@ianmalcolm​     :      your hands are so warm.

[jptfln]