the rest of it.

julian romero. 22. fourth year. history major. the underdog. palm-sized and fledgling, a beak protruding from the sleeve, i have kept my birds muted for so long, i fear they’ve grown accustom to a grim quietude. what chaos could ensue should a wing get loose? come overdue burst, come flock, swarm, talon, and claw. scatter the coop’s roost, free the cygnet and its shadow. crack and scratch at the state’s cage, cut through cloud and branch, no matter the dumb hourglass’s white sand yawning grain by grain. what cannot be contained cannot be contained.

[jromeros]

phoebelangdon·:

𝚆𝙷𝙾: @harcourtstart· ( 2 / 5 ). 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽: the middle of the ball. 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴: some untraversed corner of the observatory.

FINDING A FREE corner in the observatory is like looking for a bathroom in a packed club — somehow, without fail, it is always conveniently occupied by somebody else. After about fifteen minutes, Phoebe finally manages to find an open janitor’s closet, and stepping over the abandoned mops and broken brooms, she shuts the door behind her. Eyes shut, Phoebe inhales and leans against the wall, sticking the salvaged cigarette between her lips and lighting it, old-school style with a free match. And she inhales, deeply, even though the cigarette smells and tastes of nothing but paper and acid, but one is better than nothing. Here, she could let her mask of perfection slip away, put on that sour look that her mother had always called ugly to her face, and let the world melt away. Fill her empty form with smoke and tar, as if she hadn’t already been filled with something dark.

Then, all of a sudden, Phoebe hears the door swing open. She jumps, whipping her head around to meet the intruder with widened eyes. “Excuse me! Haven’t you heard of a little privacy?”

Julian's finally reached his optimal point of party-contentedness, leaning against a wall with a drink in his hand. He spots Phoebe a couple paces away, and calls out to her out of habit. She doesn't seem to hear him, which is understandable because there are quite a few people in between them, and their compatriots have certainly loosened up as the night has worn on. She ducks into what appears to be a closet, and Julian weaves his way between groups talking animatedly to follow her, in dogged determination to say hello.

He pulls the closet door open, startled as Phoebe whirls around. "Hey Phoebe. Sorry if I scared you. Just wanted to come say hi." He glances down, finally spotting the cigarette perched in between her fingers. "And now it's dawning on me that it was kinda creepy of me to follow you in here. Bad time?" He asks, tapping the drink in his hand lightly. He's caught a little off-guard by the fact that she'd come in here for a smoke, and also by her snappiness, if he's being totally honest. But he's more than happy to brush either of those things aside.

[jromeros]

jayhq​:

open: @harcourtstart​.   where: the observatory.   when: midway through the night.

          any mix of espresso, the spirit of halloween, the three white claws she’d had so far, and the absolute power of being the shortest person in the room had put jayden into a very excellent mood, despite the fact that she thought it was DUMB that everyone was forced to dress up as a character from literature. what if she wanted to be buffy the vampire slayer, huh? what about THAT? but she digresses, approaching the nearest body and holding out a sucker ( THC included, dubiously legal in rhode island ) for the taking. “ today, i offer you an edible. tomorrow? who knows. ” 

julian spots jayden out of the corner of his eye. she's walking in his direction, so he sets his jaw and crosses his arms, but she stops just short of him, at the elbow of some other unsuspecting society member. he frowns, vaguely irritated. he has no intention to ruminate on why, exactly, that is, so he leans in slightly to eavesdrop on their conversation. "i probably wouldn't take her up on that, if i were you." he says breezily, cutting in between them. "unless you want to wake up shirtless in new hampshire tomorrow morning, that is."

[jromeros]

mywincna·:

open @harcourtstart· !

     HER WHOLE OUTFIT was thrifted, as winona has a fascination with thrifted clothing. there’s just so many stories behind secondhand clothing. like, where is the woman who owned the corset that’s wrapped around winona’s frame now? why did she own such a thing, and what did she wear it to? or the long button-down shirt underneath said corset, which is a few sizes too big and wears like a short dress on the blonde now— where could that individual be nowadays? with a blue cloak draped on her shoulders accompanied by a pair of combat boots, winona’s outfit as one of the three musketeers might not be the most obvious of costumes but it doesn’t mean it’s not fun.

“oh, i also found this garter, too.” perhaps unprovoked, she’s sudden in the way she bends down and gently lifts at one end of the shirt to reveal the lacy white garter daintily wrapped high around her thigh. she laughs to herself and gently tugs at the joint that’s secured underneath it. “i know it’s not really three musketeers but i realized i had no pockets, right? and… i mean…” she shrugs and places the joint in between her lips, then laughs. “it works. plus, don’t you want to know who is giving their wedding garter to a thrift store? i sure do. i’d like to think, like…” she takes the unlit joint from her lips and looks down at her leg. “like i wonder if they divorced. or maybe she got cold feet and never married him and had to get of anything that had memories connected to him? it’s so interesting to me. excellent purchase on my end.” she twirls the joint between her fingers and points it to the other person. “interested?”

julian automatically shifts to the side when winona lifts her shirt, shielding her from any potential wandering eyes. it's old fashioned of him, and it's not even like winona asked for or needs his protection. plus, a little skin never hurt anyone. but the habits his parents ingrained in him are hard to shake, and that's simply the reality he has to live with.

"or maybe they were happily married and the bride wanted their good fortune to pass onto someone else." julian replies. "or," his eyes widen. "maybe she dropped it off at the thrift store accidentally with some other clothes, and it's your mission to find her and give it back to her." the reality is probably closer to what winona theorized—julian's fairly certain his sister and his brother's wife kept their garters after their respective weddings—but a boy can dream, right?

julian eyes the joint in winona's outstretched hand. "i shouldn't." he hesitates. he's been trying to cut back on smoking, but this is a party after all, and it's halloween. "fuck it. why not?" he nods in the direction of the balcony. a door is propped open, where snippets of conversation and tinkling laughter make their way out into the starry night. "let's head to the balcony?"

[jromeros]

INTRODUCING — julian romero, the underdog

fast facts;

year : undergrad senior

birthday : december 28th, 1997

major : history

pronouns : he/his

hailing from : cambridge, mass

faceclaim : xavier serrano

to make a long story short;

julian has been surrounded by overachievers his whole life, but that was never his MO. you know that daniel kahneman book, thinking, fast and slow? i've never read it so i don't know if this is an apt analogy but julian has definitely always been a slow thinker, someone who likes to ruminate on stuff, who's always been surrounded by fast thinkers. and because he struggled to keep up so much when he was younger (and still does, sometimes tbh), people automatically wrote him off. but he's determined to make something of himself so he just keeps chugging away at things (hence - the underdog). he's steadfast, more serious than he has any right to be, a man who uses politeness and decorum as a shield to protect himself, a diligent partier, a cross country runner and gym bro (but in a respectful way, i promise), and a big history nerd to boot.

want to know more?

read up on his background here.

[lovegates]