* 𝒔𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑒.

𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒕 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘀.

[subl1mes]

             ⵌ  𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚕𝟷𝚖𝚎𝚜 .             ¹‧  lofty,  grand,  or exalted in thought,  expression,  or manner.     ²‧  of outstanding spiritual,  intellectual,  or moral worth.     ³‧  tending to inspire awe usually because of elevated quality  ( as of beauty,  nobility,  or grandeur )  or transcendent excellence.         ⸺         written exclusively for midastv by awkan  [  thirty3  .  she & her  .  gmt - 3  ].

       ✽       julian rothstein       :       thirty-four   .   cis man + he & him   .   assistant district attorney for the city of new york   .   charming bisexual.

[heliosascendre]

⋆ I. :: FRIENDLY INTOXICATION ⋆ 'HOTEL' BAR :: LATE AFTERNOON ⋆ OPEN :: FOR ANYONE

₊ ✵ ⁺ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤRAWIN’S EYES WIDEN FOR A BRIEF SECOND after that slightly heavy pour of orange liqueur. It wasn’t a bad thing, was it? Everyone would’ve appreciated some extra alcohol. He slowly meets the gaze of Brad, the bartender running this section of the bar and quickly returns to the task at hand. Rawin slaps the lid on the shaker in a swift manner before proceeding to shake the stainless steel tin rather vigorously, catching the attention of the others around him. “Just for you, from yours truly.” He carefully empties the contents into the salt-rimmed glass and pushes it towards the fellow guest next to him. “A very excellently made Magarita for a very exceptional person. You’re welcome.”

[subl1mes]

        ‹     ✽     ›        enthralled,  julian looks at the way rawin effortlessly mixes the contents of a mystery drink in the cocktail shaker.   he’s always admired those who can work their magic around beverages,  those who can make them look and taste good,  so with no less amount of expectation,  he waits for the blend to be poured into his glass,  smiling widely when it is finally presented to him.   “   damn,  that was exceptional,   ”   he praises,  his hands reaching for the glass to take a sip.   he’s not a cocktail-type guy,  never has been;  his tastes lean more into distillates and beers,  but he has never been the type to say no to new experiences either,  much less to harmless ones like this.   hence he drinks.   he drinks,  grimaces slightly,  and sighs.   “   okay,  honest opinion ?   i’m not a fan of cocktails,  but this …  margarita is quite good.   what’s the secret ?   ”

[fawncds]

𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡   𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗥   𝗙𝗢𝗥   :   𝘌𝘓𝘐𝘖   𝘚𝘖𝘙𝘙𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘖    [    𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨    0   /   5    ] 𝗟𝗢𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡   :   𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

the  boxer  stood  with  his  sunglasses  on  ,  waiting  for  the  receptionist  to  return  .  his  room  had  been  missplaced  and  after  seeing  another  name  than  his  own  upon  the  gift  given  by  the  couple  ,  he'd  returned  to  the  reception  with  his  suitcase  and  personal  belongings  ,  a  little  annoyed  by  it  all  .  his  fingers  typed  away  on  his  phone  ,  occupying  himself  by  checking  his  instagram  messages  .  a  chaos  of  inquiries  from  known  and  unknown  .  a  sigh  escapes  as  boredom  cascades  upon  handsome  features  and  dark  brown  locks  frames  his  features  .  a  tray  of  welcome  drinks  stood  upon  the  counter  and  in  a  quick  movement  he  grabbed  a  glass  .  "  might  as  well  .  "  he  mused  more  or  less  to  himself  ,  beforing  downing  the  expensive  champagne  .

[subl1mes]

        ‹     ✽     ›        julian moved through the hotel calmly,  not a care in the world that wasn’t the fresh air entering through the windows and the sun touching his skin.   he had arrived early,  earlier than a lot of the guests on the list because that’s how he liked things  —  always a step ahead,  always prepared for the worst  ( or the best ).   his eyes were trained on his book of the week,  only his peripheral vision keeping him away from colliding into someone,  when the sudden musing of someone familiar and clearly annoyed distracted him enough to lift his head.   “   hey,  man,   ”   he approached,  a smile both amused and concerned painting his lips   he knew elio could be a little dramatic,  he’d been on the other end of it.   but despite taking this reaction with a grain of salt,  he asked regardless,   “   do you need something ?   you seem …  troubled.   is everything okay ?   ”

[subl1mes]

ˇ       ༚         STARTER       ˒       open to @fairytop1as .                        location       ˒       the beach,  collecting shells.

        ‹     ✽     ›        a light-blue linen shirt covering his torso and khaki shorts leaving the lower half of his legs out in the open,  julian moved through the beach unhurried,  squatting down every few steps to pick up a new shell and observe it before deciding if it was worth adding it to his collection or not.   he had discarded the last three,  and was inspecting a fourth candidate when someone cast over him a shadow noticeable enough to make him stop and turn.   “   excuse—   ”   he interrupted himself immediately,  the second he noticed who the person was.   he rolled his eyes and breathed out a laugh.   “   nana,  seriously ?   are you here to laugh at me once again,  or will you help me find the perfect pink shell for my collection ?   ”   it was always like this with them,  every time they crossed paths  —  nana would never let him live down the only time they went out on a date and he was an absolute,  loser mess.

[subl1mes]

ˇ       ༚         STARTER       ˒       open to @merma1ds .                        location       ˒       the beach's bonfire .

        ‹     ✽     ›        maybe a beer was not the fanciest drink to have in a setting like this,  but julian had always been a beer guy.   so the moment someone asked him if he wanted something,  anything,  he hadn’t hesitated to ask for one.   with the bottle in hand,  he approached the huge bonfire in the middle of the beach,  his spirits high,  his eyes bright in the face of the flames.   he sat by someone’s side,  someone he didn’t recognize.   however,  what was this thing for if not to meet new people ?   he turned to the person in question,  a winsome smile in place  ( one of those that usually said i’m trying to be friendly,  not hitting on you ),  and was ready to introduce himself when he finally realized who the person was.   a short,  breathless laugh fell from his lips.   “   sofiya ?   ”   he asked,  incredulous,  the previous laugh still present in his words.   “   nah,  this is crazy,  are you really—this can’t be real.   are you really here ?   ”   see,  sofiya and julian had met before,  in a random bar in new york,  once.   and even though the night had ended with a smile and a wave only,  they had hit it off right away.   hence,  encountering her here,  of all places …  julian was flabbergasted, to say the least.

[subl1mes]

ˇ       ༚         STARTER       ˒       open to @dar1ingest .                        location       ˒       the brunch .

        ‹     ✽     ›        the speech of the bride’s mother had just ended,  and the clapping had just died.   julian waited three respectful minutes after his sip of champagne before reaching for a delicious-looking pastry that melted in his mouth with the first bite.   he held back a moan at the taste,  at the feeling,  because moaning at a table full of rich people  ( richer and fancier than him,  of course )  would have been way out of line.   however,  he did not hesitate to incline slightly in luiza’s direction as he gently cleaned the corner of his mouth with a napkin,  lips pursed in a mischievous smile.   “   you know ?   nobody will convince me these people didn’t make a pact with the devil,   ”   he started,  eyeing the pastry for a second before continuing.   “   nothing can taste this good without a little help,  if you know what i mean.   ”

[subl1mes]

ˇ       ༚         STARTER       ˒       open to @softb0dies .                       location       ˒       the estate's gardens .

        ‹     ✽     ›        with a book safely tucked in his hand,  julian made his way through the state at a leisurely pace.   the place was enormous,  wonderful and magnificent in a way only greek things can be,  and he couldn’t help but let a small,  incredulous smile stretch his lips at the luck that sometimes struck him in this life.   with that thought in mind,  he kept wandering around,  unworried,  looking for the perfect spot to sit and read for a while,  when the sight of another person with a book drew his entire attention because,  yes,  finding people with a book wasn’t really that hard when you were in a coffee shop or the beach or a fucking library in the city,  but right here prior to a wedding ceremony ?   what if said person had more ?   he had to approach.   he had to.    “   hello,  hi,   ”   the greeting was so lame julian wanted to smack himself with the sample in his own damn hand,  yet he held back,  and instead straightened his back and put his charming smile on.   “   i don’t wanna sound like a creep,  but i was wondering …   what are you reading this fine morning ?   ”   maybe he was lucky enough and he wouldn’t run out of books before the end of the summer.

[subl1mes]

soft,  impeccable suits tailored only for you;  the strong scent of pine leaving a gentle trail everywhere you pass by;  & a burning drive that takes you unstoppably wherever you desire.

      ˇ       ༚      INTRODUCING › JULIAN ROTHSTEIN.

(  b.  1992  )     thirty-four.   bisexual.   assistant district attorney.     ⸺     ❝   papa i made it out of your house alive,  but oh,  if you didn’t make me angry and rotted,  raised by your absence and your mistakes.   ❞     ©

      ˇ       ༚         ONE         ,         BASICS.

name.     julian ezekiel sinclair rothstein.         nicknames.     jul.         age.     thirty-four.         birthdate.     february 7th.         hometown.     new york city,  new york.         gender.     cis man.         pronouns.     he & him.         sexual & romantic  orientation.     bisexual.         occupation.     assistant district attorney for the city of new york.         connected to.     the cabot-sinclairs.         type of connection.     cousin to the bride.         positive  traits.     enchanting,  intelligent,  resolute.         neutral traits.     impassive,  private,  skeptical.         negative traits.     avoidant,  obsessive,  taciturn.

      ˇ       ༚         TWO         ,         STORY.

(  !  )  CW     :     DEPRESSION,  IMPLIED ALCOHOLISM,  PARENTAL NEGLECT.

maybe miserable is a strong word to describe a childhood,  but these days you struggle to find a better,  more suitable one.   you had everything a kid could ask for in the material sense,  yet love ?   attention ?   an affectionate home ?   you never knew about any of that,  about any of what other kids around you had.  

with a father who was hardly ever around,  and a depressed mother who spent her days drowning in whiskey,  you grew up a timid,  quiet child who quietly harbored anger within.   yet you never acted on it;  you think you haven’t to this day.  

you found solace,  however,  one day,  when your mother was sober enough,  and looked at you with pensive,  affectionate eyes.   you were seven years old,  seated in front of the piano,  toying with the keys,  clueless about what you were doing,  and for the first time,  you felt she looked at you.   it was foreign,  the regard,  the attention,  the disposition,  yet it was there,  and you grabbed it with greedy,  desperate hands.   she spent the day with you, clearheaded and alert,  and at the end of it she offered something that will become your comfort for the rest of your days in that house.   “ what do you think about piano lessons ? ” she had uttered,  contemplative.   you considered it for a moment,  then nodded slowly because you had never felt a particular attraction to the instrument,  but the offer seemed like the first thoughtful act any of your parents had had with you in forever,  so you accepted.  

hence there it started,  and the lessons became your refuge,  the music your consolation,  and your teacher a surrogate parental figure that you treasure close to your heart to this day.  

and you were good,  even though nobody cared.   your mother,  after that day of clarity and affection,  came back to the bottle,  to the sadness,  to being a ghost in the enormous house your father had brought for her when he had promised love and company and a happy marriage that never happened.  

but you were never the same because you finally had something to hold on to.  

you grew up timid and quiet,  but you made good friends in school.   you were a great student,  and an even greater reader,  and your passion for law,  which sadly came from your father,  didn’t take much to show up.   however,  you wanted to be different.   you swore,  from the dawn of your childhood,  to be different.   so a different path you took.   

you went to law school with a single goal  —  where he would defend scumbags,  you would fight for justice.   where he would cheat,  you would work for fairness.   where he would do wrong,  you would do right.   and so on.   you would be different,  better.   and better you were,  better you did.

and the you found out,  late in life,  enough to feel like a fucking moron  —  he had a second family.   or maybe you were the second family.   regardless,  there was another wife,  other kids,  another house in a whole different country.   and for the first time,  you understood the abandonment.   you never asked your mother if she knew because you wanted to believe she didn’t.   it didn’t help your anger,  though,  it boiled within you like lava from hell.   if you had reasons to hate him before,  now it was a thousand times worse.   and you couldn’t find a way not to,  even when it destroyed you.

but you have promised to be different for years now,  and his lies and his betrayal only increased your desire to become the antithesis of what he was.   so you did.

these days,  after working hard to get where you’re standing right now,  you’ve become an assistant district attorney for the city of new york  —  you defend the good ones,  or so you think.   you fight so justice is served and for your city to be a finer place.   you are better than him,  and despite the anger still harbored within you,  despite the parts he left rotting in you,  you’ve managed to be at peace.

      ˇ       ༚         THREE         ,         HEADCANONS.

     i.     avid reader !!!   he can devour books in days,  has a huge collection of them and keeps buying more and more,  and asks for more and more of them at the public library.   boy’s a hardcore bookworm;  you can find him reading anywhere,  anytime.        ii.     blind as a bat,  so he wears glasses all the time because he can’t see shit without them.   he has worn them since he was a kid,  and to this day,  he loves the way he looks with them.   he takes his bi-annual change of glasses very seriously.        iii.     still plays the piano,  in fact,  has a beautiful,  white yamaha in his penthouse that he plays daily and for anyone open to listen.   his favorite composer is tchaikovsky,  his favorite pianist,  martha argerich.        iv.     has a terrible sweet tooth that activates wildly when he’s feeling down.   he’s the kind of person whose eyes light up at the sight of a croissant filled with cream.   or even a donut.   also,  takes his coffee with too much sugar.        v.     he’s kind of pretentious,  yet he knows he is,  and he knows it isn’t a good trait,  so he tries to control it.   however,  it is not easy,  and sometimes it is unavoidable,  especially with certain tates he has.   he’s trying to be more open,  though.        vi.     absolute art enthusiast !!!   a basic bitch who loves van gogh,  but also alexandre cabanel,  which is kinda weird.   but he’s not here to be understood,  just loved.        vii.     bisexual asfff.   loves his mens and his womens equally,  but is kind of avoidant because he’s terribly afraid of being like his father when it comes to relationships,  so … yeah,  bad at them.   bad,  bad.   although open,  don’t get him wrong.   he’s good overall,  trying his best.      viii.     after finding out about his father’s other family,  julian decided to change his last name and take her mother’s maiden name,  that’s why he goes by rothstein instead of sinclair.

[justbelowthesurface]

Fabien Frankel as Anthony Grasso

Task l S01E02 "Family Statements"

[arearchive]

[lustingupon]

https://lustingupon.tumblr.com

[youngestdaughtersyndrome-deacti]

big fan of being able to see visible history on something its like ghosts in the snow

[fleursdesmorts]

"First Memory," Louise Glück

[blessyouhawkeye]

he's got a sadness about him you only see in catholic stained glass windows