I NEED A SECOND TO BREATHE

Adam Starke. Forty-one. NYC Criminal Court judge. Virginia transplant.

[mancandykings]

Lee Pace getting ready to attend the TOM FORD FW 2026 Fashion Show for the Paris Fashion Week on March 4, 2026 in Paris, France

[hstarke]

@adamstarke

"Since when are we policing whiskey?" Hans asks, placing his hand on top of Adam's around the glass. Half flirt, half dare. "Baby." A plea. "You know I don't even get tipsy 'til my fourth."

And that everything that's been said around us, is a stretch of the truth. No wind, no matter how rare, could turn him into a respectable man. But he is a father, and that title he's worked hard to honor. "Judge Starke. Don't tell me I'm on trial right now."

[adamstarke]

"I'm not policing," Adam protests, shaking his head. He is, but he doesn't really like the way that sounds. They both know he worries, especially in settings like this. Having a baby at home hasn't done much for his usual set of nerves. "Just... saying it can't hurt to slow it down a little bit. The night's still young."

He doesn't release the glass, the two of them in a slight tug of war. There might have been a time that Adam would have caved instantly, particularly with Hans, and he's still easy to win over, but he's learned a lot. They've known each other for too long for him not to pick up a thing or two. He tries a different tack. "...'Sides. If you've got a good Southern whiskey, the least you could do is share."

[adamstarke]

@hstarke

Adam is very careful as he pulls the door closed behind him, finally letting out a sigh as he steps out into the hall. Bedtime is something of an ordeal lately - Henry clearly getting jealous for attention and he's been clingy. Adam's happy to spend time with him but he’s exhausted too, and it's clear as he sinks onto the sofa, long legs splayed out in front of him. 

He could almost fall asleep like that until he's nudged and he opens his eyes, a glass of wine presented to him. He can't help a tired smile, taking the glass and sitting up a little bit straighter as he meets his husband's gaze. “Celebrating the peace and quiet?” He asks. It's true, feeling like it's been hours since there wasn't some noise from at least one of their children. “...Why did we decide to do two under three, again?”

[robynck]

OPEN STARTER — a pier overlooking the hudson river, manhattan ; daytime

Despite the low sun being blindingly bright today, there was still a dreadful chill in the air and although she was wrapped up warm Robyn found it went through to her bones. She wanted to leave Texas when she was young to avoid the painfully hot summers, but now she had to put up with painfully cold winters instead. Be careful what you wish for.

She liked being close to the water. There was something tranquil about it, even when the city was bustling and the gulls were loudly cawing. She loved watching the boats pass, reminded of when her grandfather used to take her and her siblings out to the lake near his summerhouse. Usually her mind wandered to work-related matters when she sat and pondered, but today she thought of her childhood. Strange.

As she stared at the glittering water, Robyn noticed someone approaching out of the corner of her eye. She picked up her satchel from where it sat beside her and put it between her feet.

“Did you want to sit?” She asked the other person. “Sorry about my bag; I’m always leaving it where it probably shouldn’t be.”

[adamstarke]

"I'm okay. Been sitting all day." Adam offered a friendly smile, having slowed to a stop in front of the bench. He knew Robyn somewhat - a familiar face from the courtroom, both before and after he'd been seated on the bench. She'd always seemed friendly to him, and maybe a little prickly, but that was something he'd learned over the course of his career to expect from detectives. They were often rougher around the edges, though Robyn seemed more level-headed than most he had had to deal with.

Adam shifted, breath coming out in a puffy cloud as he adjusted his grip on the stroller. He had taken to bringing Henry out on walks, if only to have a reason to stretch his legs. Paternity leave had its perks, but it had made him a little restless too. The boy, blissfully, was tucked under a lot of blankets and sleeping soundly.

"How are you doing? Year off to a good start for you?" He nodded, a bit embarrassed at the small talk of it all. "This cold is miserable but at least the sun's out."

[hstarke]

This, right here, is one of the moments where Hans thinks to suggest help — a bump to stretch their night a few hours later than their bodies could realistically handle. He swallows that want; that need. "Yeah, yeah — I know I didn't marry the sporty kind," he says, paired with an ever amused roll of his eye. "When I was in the football team, you were doing what?"

It's interesting enough to wonder. How would have this story gone, had their paths crossed then?

In truth, they could do this all night, in every which angle there is to think of. High school, college, the army, bachelor pads and all of the in-between.

[adamstarke]

"Yeah, that was your first mistake," he quips, his typical level of self-deprecation there. He runs a hand along Hans's arm, a smile playing on his lips. "I was on the debate team," he admits with a grin because it feels so stupid. "And student council. Though I lost the vote for student council president." One of his several political disappointments in life, naturally.

He hums then, unable to help an amused chuckle. "And while you were the football star, I was dating a cheerleader. Didn't work out. Can't imagine why."

[adamstarke]

Starter for: - Setting: The Athenaeum Bookstore, afternoon

The shop was honestly blissfully quiet. It was something that Adam was currently relishing. Bringing Astrid home was magical, wonderful, but the presence of a newborn and a toddler meant quiet was increasingly rare in his life. He had more or less been forcibly ushered out of the apartment at Hans's orders, the pair of them taking turns at moments of escape, and his had led him to the bookstore.

His brain practically felt like static, the titles on the shelf blurring together with Adam nearly asleep on his feet, and so he jumped a little bit when someone seemingly appeared out of nowhere at his elbow. "Um - sorry. Am I in the way?" It wouldn't be a shock, considering the narrow and crowded shelves. He shifted to move, eyeing the title the new face was carrying. "...That one's a good choice."

[hstarke]

@adamstarke setting: halloween @ the brooklyn paramount “I promise I won’t be naughty.”

Hans blinks not once, but twice at that. "That might be the most bizarre thing you've ever said to me. And that's counting 'I had two tennis courts at home growing up'." No, he isn't ever letting that go — thanks for asking! "Are you fucking with me? I want you naughty."

[adamstarke]

"That's for later," Adam assures with a little smile. They both know he's actually going to collapse the moment he gets home, if all things go according to plan, but they can pretend. "And I don't know when we'll get past the tennis courts. I wasn't even good at tennis."

[adamstarke]

Adam Starke | Halloween 2025

Accompanying @hstarke as Tyler Durden, Adam is dressed as Fight Club's Narrator. Considering they now have two small children at home (one only two weeks old), the dark circles under his eyes barely needed amplifying.

[manny-jacinto]

LEE PACE via Instagram [x]

[hstarke]

@adamstarke setting: the eden gallery, event

"What about Astrid?" The question comes suddenly — as suddenly, as Hans comes up behind him after some minutes schmoozing his way through the crowd. Tonight, clients chase him from all sides. Now however, he carries a drink in each hand, and offers one Adam's way. "Astrid Starke?"

Make no mistake, Hans is still terrified. A son is one thing — but a daughter, another ballpark entirely. How many women, some surely in this very same room, would never love again because he'd broken them beyond repair? "It was on the plaque under a painting." See? He reads. "Painting was shit, but I think the name sounds nice."

[adamstarke]

For a second, Adam doesn't understand what Hans is asking. He's preoccupied with the art he's been studying - trying to make sense of it, though he's not a great fan of contemporary art. The distraction is welcome, and all the moreso when Hans provides both a drink and an answer to the question he hadn't asked yet.

A smile crosses Adam's lips as he meets Hans's gaze, taking a small sip from the drink. "It's pretty," he muses after a moment. "Has a nice ring to it. And it fits - like Henry fits with you." The idea of the pattern is certainly pleasing to him - Henry and Hans, Astrid and Adam. The idea of a daughter is still a bit of a marvel to him, increasingly so as her arrival gets closer. It's all a bit different than it had been with Henry, far more pink in their purchases, but he's no less happy with the approaching outcome. "It's all happening so fast, isn't it?"

[adamstarke]

Adam Starke | Masked Ball

Adam is the other half to @hstarke's pairing - schmoozing with the who's who of New York in his white jacket and black and white mask. It's nothing too showy, but still a little more adventurous than he's usually used to. He's trying to be a little more bold.

[insporp]

[x]

[adamstarke]

Adam Starke | The Cloisters

Here to support the Republican side, in case you can't tell from the everything about how he looks. Dress-shirt and lightweight sweater, gray slacks, a nice watch, good dress shoes. More or less looks like he could be part of a mostly-matching set with @hstarke.

[kimxsuho]

After enduring the Canadian cold once, Suho felt pretty relaxed about the winter, but he still hated ice. Why had he picked today to feel like eating something different for morning? He'd been about to get into the bodega he liked visiting when one of his foot had caught a tiny patch of ice. He'd almost fell on the spot.

He heard a voice to his right and caught sight of the offered hand. Would it have been horrible to admit that he had consider the broken bones over the physical touch? He reached out a trembling hand; half covered by the long sleeve with a thumb hole. "Thank you." He said; softest of smile appearing on his lips.

[adamstarke]

"No problem." He smiled politely, the picture of a Southern gentleman as he helped the stranger to safer ground. "They need to do a better job of saltin' these sidewalks." Carding a hand through his hair, Adam stood back. "You okay? Heading inside?" Before the answer, Adam had already reached for the door. "I hate this damn cold."

[alandietrich]

context: generic new york bar with: open !!

These kind of events go one of two ways -- you either suffer through tthem, take smart notes on your opponents, watch alone in your office or you accept the fact that none of your competitors have a shot against you and you have fun with it. Tonight, as many nights, the latter is the case for Alan.

Two empty glasses sit in front of him: one he’ll take full responsibility for, the other he’d claim had been there when he arrived. Either way, he toyed with them both just the same until he finally gets his refill. Eyes dead set on the television over the bar, Alan brings up the red ale up to his lips but ultimately interrupts himself to speak.

"Ask the follow up," he says to no one around him but the figure on the screen. "Are you joking? Ask the follow up." They don't and he rolls his eyes, finally taking a first taste of his new drink. Sigh. And now, to the person to his left: "What do you think? Are the kids right, is journalism dead?"

[adamstarke]

"They never ask the followup," Adam muses, and it's with a knowing sort of smile. He'd spent far too much around politics, an understanding of it more or less beaten into him. Even now, it seemed he couldn't escape it, sipping his drink. "Or - if they do, they never answer the followup. So it's kinda a waste of everyone's time." He shrugs, looking over to Alan - aware of who he works for and perhaps that's why he's engaging now, along with the fact that the younger man is rather likeable. "Y'know how it goes. They answer without really answering. It's kind of amazing how they do it sometimes. They talk and talk and at least try to make you forget what was asked in the first place. Dunno whether you can say that's the journo's fault or not."

[adamstarke]

Starter for: - Setting: Outside a bodega in downtown Manhattan

It was a brutal day to be out, cold and icy and honestly, if he didn't have a day in court ahead of him, Adam might have just called out, saving himself and everyone else the trouble. He had hoped for a quick breakfast before making it to the courthouse, almost making his way into the store when he noticed someone else about to hit the deck on the icy sidewalk. "Easy," he called, offering a hand of help for them to take, steadying himself so they wouldn't both fall instead. "Lemme give you a hand. Don't need any broken bones, right?"

[hstarke]

Fishbowl or not, Hans angles his neck back just so, allowing full access. No one's walking by now, but what if someone did? What would they do then? Even if old skills have grown somewhat rusty, this is a game that once upon a time they'd become experts at.

"Yeah, yeah — 2% is a joke," Hans argues into the phone. "That's what, 3mil a week? How's he supposed to survive on that? Have you seen the price of milk these days?" To his husband, a roll of the eye. "5%, or the intellectual property gets locked away in a safe for the next ten fucking years, how's that sound?"

Hans smiles, and steals the pen and post-it pad. His turn — a little extra mindful to make his handwriting legible.

Sure.

Post-it shown, then discarded. He scribbles again.

What's on the menu?

Over the phone: "You're breaking my legs here, Starke."

And again—

You?

[adamstarke]

Adam is all too patient as he listens to the negotiation, the back and forth, millions discussed like they're pocket change. For his part, he only shrugs in response to the eyeroll, still leaning back on the desk as he awaits the answer - long legs splayed out there next to Hans's chair.

A few years ago, he might have blushed, more boyish than his age should have allowed - but now he just smiles, considering his answer before he writes it out.

If you don't keep me waiting too long.

Then he gestures to the phone, ushering him to hurry up and close the deal.