about today .

[august de witte]

The bartender isn't paying attention to the order of patrons. He's coming and rushing for the people that interest him, his eyes feigning hipster disinterest behind thick framed glasses as he shakes liquids together and pours the mixtures into fifty-cent mason jars, handing them to people of similar wardrobe. August leans his lanky frame against the counter, impatience forcing his chin into the palm of his hand and his eyes pleading with absolute boredom. He's not one to beg and he won't grab or shout at the bartender. He'll instead tip less or not at all, complain to his friends that this is the worst bar in the entire of New York City and vow that he won't come again... then come back a week later because the drinks were a fraction better than the bar three stops closer to his apartment. By the time the plaid bartender does come around, August is feeling vindictive. He hums and haws over drink choices, asks the bartender what he recommends and then comes completely right-wing to his recommendation. “The daiquris are good? Oh yea, that does sound good,” he nods, taking a moment to look down at his wallet and nods again, “yea.. I think I'll just go with two of.. uh. Two of, how about one Stella and another of the.. uh, god. Fuck, what's it called. Tequila.. no rum, no. Yea, tequila. Mojito! Heineken and a Mojito.” The bartender lets out a frustrated sigh, and August grins inwardly. He's successfully annoyed the help. To top it off, he barely leaves a tip. Theodora will have to pick up the next round. “So, wasn't sure,” he mentions, setting the mason jar on her side and the bottle on his. He shrugs off his jacket and peels the black beanie from his dark head, setting them on a hook parallel to their booth. The boy sits across from her, his bright eyes looking to her hazel ones and then drifting to her honey bronzed skin before looking away to slug at his beer. “Do you ever feel like a phone call would go over a lot better than a conversation over messenger? I think asshole reads better when you can distinguish a tone.” ......................... notes: music: the national bc goop

[teddi st. james]

The brunette wore the wear of the week obviously on her face. The annoyed air she usually carried around strangers bled into the way she looked around the bar despite that she was with a friend. She'd made a firm decision before she left not to be weird, and definitely not to be angry because that would have been not only weird, but also bitchy. Bitchy wasn't usually something she minded, though she'd had to be that way lately. That night, she'd bother slightly to dress up, to run the curler through her hair and to wear something black and plunging. Her face was devoid of heavy makeup, but this was common. Teddi preferred fresh when it came to that. As August seems to take his time, Teddi barely looks in his direction, not so much pissed but more disinterested. She rested an elbow on the table and her chin in her palm, antsy and waiting for the drink. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she hadn't told him what she wanted. She almost made a move to get up and go to him, but then decided against it. The sound of his voice makes her eyes slid over him, first at the removal of his jacket, then his hat, and then to the drink he put in front of her. "What is this?" She wrapped a hand around the mason jar, eyed the mint leaves torn and pummelled at the bottom. She lifted the straw to her overly full pout, still slightly annoyed he'd dared to call her lip fake, and took a sip. "Oh. Never mind. I know what that is." Not half bad. For a bar in Queens. These were comparisons she'd found herself making, even if she scolded herself instantly after doing so. She fiddled with the clasp of the silver tennis bracelet around her slip wrist -- yet another token of her former life that lost the sparkle it once had. Anything to look anywhere but August before it would be considered too soon, and when he finally got into his seat across her, Teddi finally let her eyes find his. With the straw, she stirred the ice, sipping the liquid quickly. With in a few minutes, half the drink was gone. She grinned as he started talking, rolling her eyes for good measure, as if to say she found him funny but not that funny. Not funny enough to have certain types of feelings for. "Even better, in person, you can get the full venom of it. Go ahead, De Witte, lay your best asshole on me." Teddi traced a finger around the rim of mason jar. "I know you've been wanting to all day." Her cheeks were red, and she watched him drink, her wounds from their conversation tender, but ebbing. ......................... notes: babbus music: trying 2 find riverdale

[august de witte]

August is looking anywhere but Teddi. His eyes not resting on her for more than half a second. He glances from his glass, to her face, to the crowd and back to her face. In fact, when he looks at her it's her eyes he's trying hard not to look at. He focuses on her less expressive features – her nose, her cheekbones, her chin. A twinge of guilt seeps in when his eyes land on hers and pure nervous nausea is a given when it comes to her full cinnamon pout. Luckily for August, it's a full bar tonight so there's a lot to distract him. Someone hollers for a friend within the crowd and he's looking for that friend to find their way. Using any shout, motion or general obscurity to tear his focus. He raises his brows at her question, “rum something,” he looks at her and then away again. He can smell the sweet stickiness of her perfume from their short distance, it smells more apparent than he remembers a week ago. Maybe she's spritzed on a little more, or maybe he's just noticing it more now. August watches as her manicured finger spins around her glass. He picks up little details, like the glimmer of her bracelet and the shade of her fingernail. The thought that that finger had been more glammed up in earlier years crosses his mind, and he wonders if pricey trips to the salon were something Teddi had to give up when she downgraded her fortune. He gives a slight laugh at her remark and catches the flush on her cheek, the expression of her hurt tears him slightly. “You'll need to inspire more material,” he offers an unbalanced smile and drains the majority of his drink. “Dor,” he says her name without thinking about what he'll say after, his hand reaches across the table to grab at her, but his mind catches up with it and he pulls it into a fist, cracking a few joints as he does so. “I know I've been a shitty friend lately, it's just.. no excuses, but I'm not good with girls. And I've never really thought of you as one.. not like that, fuck, that's shitty to say too. I mean, I've never thought of you like that,” a heap of word vomit spills from him, and his greyish skin turns pinker as he cringes. “I like you too, I think. And I gotta add that, 'I think' too it, because any minute now there's going to be fucking.. Ashton Kutcher with a camera crew popping through the bathroom doors.” ......................... notes: music: RIVERDALE OBVI

[teddi st. james]

Teddi felt a bit like an animal in a cage, aware of his eyes on her, but not acknowledging them as she played the part of not looking back. Young men stood around them hollering, and she followed with them with their eyes, scowling ever so slightly at the thought that she had at one time been friends with people like that. Yes, she'd certainly traded up since the days. Nick might have been the last person she knew to have even a semblance of that boyish, obnoxious air, and he combated it with his brain and with his generally intelligent speech. August, on the other hand, was further, and this was now what she favoured, though she refused to tell him that, in fear that he would do nothing more than shrug it off as he did all her other advances that he never seemed to take seriously. As he tipped his head back and drinks most of his beer, she realized she was not the only one that might have been nervous, and she loosened slightly. Following suit, she drained hers in turn, this time the flush of her cheeks nothing more than a joyous buzz. "I could, if you really wanted me to. But I thought I'd give you a break. Asshole doesn't seem so natural." She shrugged, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Her hazel eyes watched as his fingers crack, and she chewed on her bottom lip, almost lost in thought at the sight of his joints. But when he spoke and blushed scarlet, she couldn't help an amused smile touch the corners of her mouth, and Teddi, usually not at a loss for words, was silent. When he finally stopped talking, Teddi met his eyes, the ice tinkling around in her glass as she swirled it. "Augy, Ashton Kutcher is like so early 2000s? Like, I bet some of your brothers don't even know who that is." She didn't need to say anything more to what he had, but she threw it in for good measure. "Don't worry about it, really. We're good. Better than good." Teddi winked at him, and leaned across the table as if to peer into his bottle. "You're lagging behind, babes." ......................... notes: short ok music: can't find riverdale ):

[august de witte]

Though short-tempered and at times dramatic, Teddi was right when she said August wasn't a born asshole. Emotional was a more appropriate word. Emotional, but not so exposed. There was Nick, who was a born star. And although he complained about it, August truly was more comfortable in that supporting role. He was better at being the quirky sidekick than the actual superhero that was his best friend. Though August felt everything, perhaps more than most people, he tend to keep it very much to himself. Appearing to a stranger as an egotistical, better-than-you loner. He felt love, fear, sadness and hate powerfully. If you cut open his heart, you'd find an unfathomable love for his friends and a seething fear of growing old and growing more lost. He doesn't say much to her response. Just kind of laughs and nods to her, “fair enough.” Tipping the remainder of his beer down the hatch, he slips out of his booth as an excuse to get away from the situation. Even if for a moment. He undoes a button of his black Levi button-down, “I'll get served quicker this time around,” he winks at her jokingly. Much to his regret, he does leave the bar quicker than he suspected. With a new bartender, who paid more attention to the order of arrival, he's quick to fetch a couple of shots and a refill of beverages. He juggles the four glasses back to the table and sets them down. “To looser lips,” he licks the back of his hand and sprinkles a little salt, bites down on the lime and shoots back the tequila. “Mmm,” he cringes, forking a hand through his thick hair. “Reminds me of our grad trip to Mexico.” ......................... notes: this post was sponsored by neocitrin music: the shins

[teddi st. james]

The tension on the subway ride over, and the first few minutes of their arrival is gone, and it seems that they are back to what they had at one time considered normal. Teddi watches him with a grin dancing between her eyes and her round mouth, crinkling her nose as he unbuttoned the top of his shirt, as if to tell him to do it up again. When he goes to get another drink, Teddi smooths a hand through her hair, and pulls down the front of her dress ever so slightly, if not for any other reason than to calm herself. To remind herself that she was confident in the face of anything. Rejection was no different. When August didn't take long to make his way back, her gaze settled on the shots he returned with, groaning audibly as she tipped her head back. Tequila had been a long time favourite. But the lead up was never good, no matter how good the night was going forward. As he spoke of Mexico, she realized she didn't remember much except the bar, the buffet, and the blinding sun. "You know, I almost thought I was too old for shots." She picks up a thimble of Tequila, doing the same with the salt on the back of her hand, and waits until he's done to tip her head back. "To looser lips."She swallows it in one pass, then presses her wrist to her mouth and forgets momentarily about the lime. Teddi winces, and then presses the fruit to her lips, tearing into the soft pulp with her teeth in desperation. "There is something about Tequila shots that never seem to get any easier." With the breath knocked out of her, the skin of her face flushed and pink, her body language opens up to him more, slipping back to herself. "I really don't think I've been able to day drink as hard since. When we tried to go out for St. Patty's last year I thought I was going to pass out by noon." She puts the shot upside down on the table, the lime and left over liquor staining her fingers. Her eyes linger on him. First his hair and then his mouth, and then Teddi feels that urge she'd had the past month to touch him. But she refrains. Her hand traces circles on the table instead. "What's the significance of loose lips?" ......................... notes: peanut butter oreos are gross and i do not recommend. music: the cat is purring

[august de witte]

Tequila. He can't remember many nights with it and the ones he can recall, have a fuzzy circumference. Mexico was no exception. The last hurrah before stepping out of Newbury, before a tailspin of degrees and masters and pittering around trying to decide what it was he actually wanted to specialize in (he still hadn't, obviously). Looking at them now - where the tensions between the group were fairly apparent – in Mexico they were perfect, at their prime. A vacation full of day-drinking, baking on the beach, covering each other in chamomile lotion when they inevitably burnt red, and full to the lip of heart-to-hearts. As the taste of tequila burns the inside of his mouth, he feels a weird and sad sense of nostalgia. And as he sets the glass on the table, he wishes that they were back under the dangerous Mexican sun. Blue eyes watch as her face turns sour. Her full face lifts and squishes tightly, though her reaction isn't much different than his, he finds hers so much more endearing. “I don't even think we ended up going out?” he questions, genuinely having no idea whether they actually did leave the confides of his and Nick's apartment, where there lived a keg and a handful of funny pills. He watches as her finger spins shapes onto the table and falls into a trance whens she asks about loose lips. “Hm,” he breaks into his beer, suffocating the taste of tequila with lager. “I think they sink ships.. no, really. I think it means, 'beware of unguarded talk'. But in this case, I'm welcoming unguarded talk. Maybe I should have said, to vulnerability!, but loose lips sounded slightly more poetic,” he finds himself caught rambling, “but maybe we should beware of unguarded talk, because we could sink the ship. You know, the metaphor for friendship.” ......................... notes: i'm sorry this is SO BAD music: father john misty.

[teddi st. james]

When they were younger, problems like the ones they were currently having never seemed to exist. But if Teddi put her mind to it, she knew that there was no real difference, just that they pushed them away and pretended they didn't exist until they didn't anymore. When her mother first moved her to Newbury and out of the city, Nick had been the trouble she was getting into then, stepping on toes and hurting everyone, and from then on, she'd resolved to do nothing but keep her mouth shut. It was also why she'd agreed to go out with Abel, and though she knew they were different people, she found herself wondering how August compared. She had, obviously, higher hopes for the brother she liked better. It was strange to think that they were hesitant because of their friends, and not because she'd dated a member of his family. August speaks of Mexico and she shakes her head. "No, I don't think we did either. We didn't really have to. I'm the only one that likes to dance, and we were so distracted by the open bar that I don't think we needed to." She picks up the other drink he returned with, sipping at the rim. Teddi was powering through these drinks, though not yet drunk, she could feel the warmth in her hands and in her eyes. He is rambling again, but Teddi doesn't mind, spinning his words over in her head. Of course, she knew the phrase, but with August she felt the need to clarify, because he talked in circles, and with a guard, and with allusions. "I know what it means. But I was wondering what you meant by it." Teddi took another drink. "Back and forth back and forth blah blah blah, why don't you just make up your mind?" She was teasing him, her voice touched with laughter. "My vote is for loose lips. I have too many confessions to make. Are you sure I'm not the one that's being punk'd?" She leans forward on the table, crossing her arms across the wood, her eyes meeting his. "There's no way you're going to let me in on what's going on in your head." ......................... notes: hi music: no

[august de witte]

August grins awkwardly as she teases him, back and forth and he swayed his head to the tone of her voice. August De Witte definitely was the king of not committing fully to a decision. He had switches his major three times, had convinced himself of career paths on multiple occasions (NASA because the popular choice as of late), had sets of both green and blue bedsheets as he couldn't make up his mind, and now there was Teddi. He knew she was interested and he had some idea of it not too long before she told him. He watched the way she watched him, her eyes expressive and her reactions exaggerated, body seemingly open. But the boy couldn't commit to a reaction of his own. He was consistently almost returning the affection. With his first drink and the tequila swishing in his stomach, August was beginning to feel the effect of alcohol. His mood was picking up a giddy gait. “I'm almost positive you are not the one being Punk'd,” he presses his lips together and gives a hard nod. He sips at his beer while listening to her talk about openness. It's something that should come so easily considering the age of their friendship, but there's a wall that he's having difficulty tearing down. “I'll start with the confessions then,” he finds himself saying it before he thinks it, “there's not much going on in my head, it's like circus music playing on loop. Or a bad grocery store playlist, too much fucking Coldplay.” He laughs as he tries to think of something to confess, thoughtfully spinning the bottle within a court his hands have created. “I came here expecting it to be awkward, I'm disappointed it's not. The only awkward bit is that I can stop staring at your tits,” he frowns and shakes his head, “bad confession. Maybe you should start..” ......................... notes: i blame being sick on my bad posts. music: the national

[teddi st. james]

Teddi St. James knew all about decisiveness. Before her move to New York -- to Queens -- she never doubted a single choice she made. She had the same thing for breakfast on the corresponding days -- yogurt and fruit on the week, out for brunch on the weekend. She knew the pairs of shoes she wanted the second she went into the store. She was even partial to making decisions for other people, a reflex of her control that was not one of her more lauded qualities. Teddi wasn't any less this way now that she was on her own, but that she couldn't afford the same decisions she used to make. No more drinking during the week. No more shopping unless she absolutely needed something. No more of saying whatever she wanted just because she could do so. However, August, the boy, her friend, whatever he was. She had decided on him. It had been easy to cast away any of what lingered for Nick because she'd made up her mind. Her eyes follow the bottle as she leans back and away from him. He was not like any other boy she'd chased, and to be frank, Teddi had never had to do much chasing. This was cause for frustration and impatience, and a touch of bewilderment that she didn't welcome. As he begins to confess, she perks a brow, stabbing a guess that he would dance around the subject. "Fuck Coldplay." Teddi picked up the drink that was in front of her, and grins into her sip as he starts to speak again. She looks down at her chest as he mentions it, and then laughs, putting her drink down closer to the middle of the table. "Maybe that's awkward for you, but it's not awkward for me." She puts an elbow on the table, unable to sit still now that the tequila and the other drinks have begun to touch her blood. "Those weren't bad confessions, but I'll follow. I wore this dress so you would." Teddi winks, then crosses one leg over the other. "Why did you want it to be awkward?" ......................... notes: i'm at skool lalalalalalalala music: this classroom is cold

[august de witte]

August had never thought about liking Theodora until she had offered her affection. It never dawned on him that he could like her, and a crush seemed inappropriate in regard to their friendship and the general code their group seemed to follow (though after the Corinne/Nick ordeal, this code seemed nonexistent at this point). Like he previously mentioned to her, he rated himself as the nerd. Abel, his identical twin, was attractive not only because of the way he looked but because of the way he carried himself. August was a natural introvert and extreme weirdo, these seemed to cancel out the way he looked most of the time. He aimed for the quirky girls, because he was the quirky guy. Theodora wasn't the quirky girl. In his eyes, she was a princess and he wasn't at all the ideal knight. The boy sips heavily at his beer, “indeed, fuck Coldplay and elevator music.” He looks awkward when he watches her hers fall down to her own chest, his follow but he quickly glances down to study the wood grains in the table. “Ah,” of course, he has nothing more to say. He is trapped. His lungs feel exasperated for air and his mouth is dry. “Uhm, maybe not disappointed... that's probably not the right word. Surprised, that it wasn't awkward. I thought I'd need a lot more alcohol to talk to you. I also thought smoking a joint pre-meet-up would calm my nerves, but I'm still shitting bricks,” he laughs, finishing off a good majority of his beer with a long sip. “I'm lost with you, Dory. If you could give me a hint on how I should act, or sometimes Nick gives me a script of how to interact in social situations. I'd find that extremely helpful.” ......................... notes: icky icky music: lordey lorde