#luckyystrap

Dr. Ian Malcolm had never considered himself a sentimental man. If he dwelled on the past, it was exclusively for the purpose of learning, of assessing where previous events had gone wrong in order to adjust his reasoning, his behaviour going forward. This could be considered evolution in itself, albeit on a comparatively microscopic scale. So it was that the tenured academic found himself making his way up the fire escape of his New York apartment towards the roof, telling himself it wasn’t sentimentality that drove his actions, that guided his hand along the metal railing, and his uncertain footsteps up the weathered steps. It was chaos theory, pure and simple. After all, no one—not even he himself—could have predicted that, upon awaking from another nightmare, he would get dressed and clamber out of his kitchen window into the cool night air, without any of his usual reverence for the virtues of logic and common sense. The view was stunning, he had to admit, as he reached the top, eyes drifting over the sea of moving lights. If only those same, picturesque lights weren’t accompanied by so much noise, he thought wistfully as he sat down, making sure he was a reasonable distance away from the edge. Despite his sudden, unprecedented desire for a beautiful spot to contemplate, Dr. Ian Malcolm had no intention of testing the whims of chance. As he sat down, he had to steady himself against the fire escape’s railing. A groan escaped him. His leg still ached upon too much exertion, and in time with the ache came the familiar flood of images, blurred around the edges but accompanied by raw emotions which were still as vivid as ever. It was these same images, of course, which had robbed him of his sleep moments prior, and by extension had set off the chain of unlikely events which led to him sitting precariously, and more importantly uncomfortably, atop his apartment building. The butterfly effect in action, he thought with a hint of satisfaction. How satisfying it would be to have such a perfect illustration of it in the palm of his hand... if only he had someone to explain it to. 

Looks: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10Personality: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10Attraction: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10Would they date them: yes | no (But there are a lot of other things Ian wouldn’t mind doing in the slightest.)Favourite thing about them: His candour and honesty (to a fault), his sense of humour, his ability to get on with anyone, his openness to the unorthodox as well as his ability to adapt.Least favourite thing about them: While his inescapable energy can be uplifting given the right situation, it can be grating as well. Their outlook on life, despite being shaped by similar experiences, is extremely different. Besides that, Billy reminds him of the more self-destructive aspects of their shared trauma, which Ian isn’t a massive fan of (denial being his favourite coping mechanism).

happy christmas ! and i hope yours are as well !!

― * ✧      she doesn’t want to pry. but he’d been through the same thing as her. god maybe the park should start a kind of social club for them all. i survived the jurassic experience club. they could get t-shirts. “ the island ... it kinda screws with your head, huh ? ”

“Billy, I know it was you! That thing wasn’t cheap, alright? I don’t want it covered in, ah, pulverised dinosaur what-have-you…” The moment he spotted the younger man passed out on the couch, Ian’s stern demeanour softened. He looked exhausted. Perhaps the lecture could wait until tomorrow.

“People seem to be extremely interested in my childhood today. Hmm. I’ll be honest, there isn’t a great deal I’ve held onto. Thinking about it, though, ah, the fact that I still partake in some few Jewish holidays and traditions despite not being religious in any capacity… that’s a remnant of my upbringing. One I’ve even passed onto my own children—though I’d never bother them with schul or torah study or any of that nonsense my parents put me through.”

He frowned, all for show, watching raptly to see Billy’s expression. At first he’d been worried that a telescope—a miniature but powerful one—was a silly gift, but it just made sense to him. One of the first things the palaeontologist had remarked to him up on that New York rooftop had been how much he missed seeing the stars, how much he deplored the city for that reason. On all those digs he went on, below a star-strewn sky, as Ian always imagined, there’d certainly be opportunity to use it. “Now. The least you can do to make up for that, ah, that indiscretion, Billy, is get some use out of this.”

“Besides, I’m sure you don’t need any help finding the D. It tends to be in the same place. Also talking about the, ah, variable, of course. That goes without saying.” He laughed loudly, having to take care not to spill more of his coffee. “Please tell me you passed high school math.”