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ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
D E A N N AXA R T A E G A - M E N D E Z
_____ T H EXM O M - F R I E N D_____
Outfit: Link Here
Location: Family Home
Dialogue Color âĻ #3090C7
Thought Color ⧠#2A2A57
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
D E A N N AXA R T A E G A - M E N D E Z
_____ T H EXM O M - F R I E N D_____
Outfit: Link Here
Location: Family Home
Dialogue Color âĻ #3090C7
Thought Color ⧠#2A2A57
To: Gabe <3
Im making pescao en escabeche for dinner tonite. dat ok?
To: Omi, Kenta, Josie, Twyla {Mi familia}
Dinner's gonna b a lot of food, y'all can drop by ;D
With those texts sent, Deanna smiled at the cashier and finished her transaction, sliding her four bags onto both of her arms before heading towards the sliding glass doors past a small family. The greatest benefit to working for and with family was that schedules can be negotiated, much like today. Her older two brothers, Anton and Osvaldo, owned a tattoo and piercing shop fifteen minutes away from her apartment, which was why Deanna hadn't turned down the opportunity to be their receptionist. It wasn't a career she saw herself doing forever; Deanna did have plans, regardless of what anyone thought considering she had yet to decide if she was going back for a master's degree. But it was a job that helped pay the bills and it let her spend time with her brothers more, especially considering she spent the four years she had been in college avoiding her family entirely. The why wasn't something she chose to focus on at the moment, however. It led down dark pathways and Deanna would rather think about the salt-and-peppered fish steaks she'd left to sit in the fridge in her absence.
After she'd been allowed to leave an hour early (Anton had been in the middle of helping an "intern," as he called the boy; Osvaldo had a date he apparently needed a few extra hours to prepare for, which Deanna had teased him mercilessly about on the way out the door), Deanna found herself craving the firm, white flesh of fish. She wasn't much of a fan of pickles on most days, but the pickling flavors were complimented by the garlic and the olive oil her mima utilized religiously. Once that had been settled in her mind, she had hurried home, at least gotten the fish and the flour semi-prepared for her return, and then headed back out without checking to see if either of her roommates had been home. It was August, practically the end of the summer, so she wasn't pressed to have them there. Besides, Deanna actually liked beating them home, being able to greet people with dinner after a long day and no day felt longer than Thursdays. Today, for her at least, felt better than usual, and maybe it was because tomorrow was the music festival. She had taken off and bought her tickets months in advance after missing last year's festival. The pain of having missed her wife Janelle Monae had been too much for the Cuban music lover, and she vowed never again to miss such an opportunity.
Grinning to herself at the memory, Deanna put all of her bags into the backseat of 2009 Volvo V50 her mother had let her have upon college graduation. She'd been the second of the Artaega-Mendez children to graduate college (Anton had opted out of that for now) and though it had once been the family car, Deanna was still elated every time she realized that she had a car and it was hers alone. Sliding into the driver's seat, Deanna cranked the volume to her Aaliyah playlist CD up as she drove out of the parking lot and on the way home, eager to get back into her apartment to finish cooking and open the bottle of Criterion Pinot Grigio Friuli Grave. Considering she had nothing to do tomorrow other than be young and carefree for once, she hadn't been able to help but splurge just a little bit. She'd bought a few of the basics already, anyway.
Im making pescao en escabeche for dinner tonite. dat ok?
To: Omi, Kenta, Josie, Twyla {Mi familia}
Dinner's gonna b a lot of food, y'all can drop by ;D
With those texts sent, Deanna smiled at the cashier and finished her transaction, sliding her four bags onto both of her arms before heading towards the sliding glass doors past a small family. The greatest benefit to working for and with family was that schedules can be negotiated, much like today. Her older two brothers, Anton and Osvaldo, owned a tattoo and piercing shop fifteen minutes away from her apartment, which was why Deanna hadn't turned down the opportunity to be their receptionist. It wasn't a career she saw herself doing forever; Deanna did have plans, regardless of what anyone thought considering she had yet to decide if she was going back for a master's degree. But it was a job that helped pay the bills and it let her spend time with her brothers more, especially considering she spent the four years she had been in college avoiding her family entirely. The why wasn't something she chose to focus on at the moment, however. It led down dark pathways and Deanna would rather think about the salt-and-peppered fish steaks she'd left to sit in the fridge in her absence.
After she'd been allowed to leave an hour early (Anton had been in the middle of helping an "intern," as he called the boy; Osvaldo had a date he apparently needed a few extra hours to prepare for, which Deanna had teased him mercilessly about on the way out the door), Deanna found herself craving the firm, white flesh of fish. She wasn't much of a fan of pickles on most days, but the pickling flavors were complimented by the garlic and the olive oil her mima utilized religiously. Once that had been settled in her mind, she had hurried home, at least gotten the fish and the flour semi-prepared for her return, and then headed back out without checking to see if either of her roommates had been home. It was August, practically the end of the summer, so she wasn't pressed to have them there. Besides, Deanna actually liked beating them home, being able to greet people with dinner after a long day and no day felt longer than Thursdays. Today, for her at least, felt better than usual, and maybe it was because tomorrow was the music festival. She had taken off and bought her tickets months in advance after missing last year's festival. The pain of having missed her wife Janelle Monae had been too much for the Cuban music lover, and she vowed never again to miss such an opportunity.
Grinning to herself at the memory, Deanna put all of her bags into the backseat of 2009 Volvo V50 her mother had let her have upon college graduation. She'd been the second of the Artaega-Mendez children to graduate college (Anton had opted out of that for now) and though it had once been the family car, Deanna was still elated every time she realized that she had a car and it was hers alone. Sliding into the driver's seat, Deanna cranked the volume to her Aaliyah playlist CD up as she drove out of the parking lot and on the way home, eager to get back into her apartment to finish cooking and open the bottle of Criterion Pinot Grigio Friuli Grave. Considering she had nothing to do tomorrow other than be young and carefree for once, she hadn't been able to help but splurge just a little bit. She'd bought a few of the basics already, anyway.
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
B R I A NXB R O K E N B O R O U G H
_____ T H EXW R I T E R_____
Outfit: Link Here
Location: The Mighty Bean
Dialogue Color âĻ #D05050
Thought Color ⧠#800000
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
B R I A NXB R O K E N B O R O U G H
_____ T H EXW R I T E R_____
Outfit: Link Here
Location: The Mighty Bean
Dialogue Color âĻ #D05050
Thought Color ⧠#800000
Being on the clock didn't always include having to be on campus, which was a relief for Brian. He had already spent four years on the campus; the last thing he needed was to have to spend every single day on it feeling as if he never left. Smarter people would have left for another university. Those same smarter people weren't going to start their graduate studies in education at the same university they happen to be a teacher's aide at, so the joke's on them. The thought made him smirk to himself even as the words on the screen made him want to roll his eyes.
With it being the beginning of August and the new semester beginning within the next week, Brian didn't have to worry much about classes just yet as students were still registering for classes and in the process of moving on campus (or into their off-campus housing accommodations if they were smart and looked for cheaper places to live). He did have to worry about lesson plans, working out the last details of his newer schedule, and applying for his own grants and scholarships. He had spent the better part of the summer doing so as he had no means - since he refused to contact his father for anything - to pay for graduate school out of pocket, while helping his professor plan according for the school year, and do some final grading. Though intellectually challenging at times, the University of San Francisco could be lenient at times if the student's situation called for it, occasionally granting extensions that went into the weeks after the campus had been cleared and most students - save for summer school students - were already gone. With all of that, it had been a busier summer for Brian than he had anticipated, and he would be enjoying the last bit of summer he had left if it weren't for his own educational needs.
"Not that the universe gives a fuck about those needs either," he muttered testily under his breath before letting out a long exhale, shaking fingers pausing over the keyboard. With all the preparations he had been making for the coming school year in terms of teaching, and then acquiring the books and scheduling for his own educational needs, Brian could not - for the life of him - stare at the scholarship application before him without thinking that it was all bullshit. Bullshit, he thought. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit...and more bullshit. Because that was the only explanation he could give when he was being asked why he needed the money and all he could offer was that he fucking needed the money and who the fuck asked that kind of question? Do you think he'd be in the middle of a twenty page application if he didn't need it? He was a loser, but he wasn't the type of loser to spend copious amounts of time applying for things he wouldn't need.
Sighing again, Brian reached for his coffee only to realize that it was empty. Scowling, he closed his laptop for the moment - a moment of reprieve, thank God! - and rose, bringing the insulated travel mug with him. It was a Thursday evening, close to five pm, so the Mighty Bean wasn't flooded with do-gooders on their way to work. Instead, there were stragglers, some lingering in small groups to discuss homework or just catch up because they weren't ready to call it a day, others in various corners and at different tables like Brian - surrounded by computers and books and papers and trying to be productive about their caffeine addictions and busy schedules. After running his free hand through his tousled light brown hair, Brian then pulled out his cell phone as he waited in line to get his coffee refilled, flitting through the updates to his tumblr feed to text Vincent. At least one of them had to be having a decent day.
To: Vincent
Please tell me you're at least having a good day. Pretty sure I'm ruining my vision the longer I look at the computer screen.
With it being the beginning of August and the new semester beginning within the next week, Brian didn't have to worry much about classes just yet as students were still registering for classes and in the process of moving on campus (or into their off-campus housing accommodations if they were smart and looked for cheaper places to live). He did have to worry about lesson plans, working out the last details of his newer schedule, and applying for his own grants and scholarships. He had spent the better part of the summer doing so as he had no means - since he refused to contact his father for anything - to pay for graduate school out of pocket, while helping his professor plan according for the school year, and do some final grading. Though intellectually challenging at times, the University of San Francisco could be lenient at times if the student's situation called for it, occasionally granting extensions that went into the weeks after the campus had been cleared and most students - save for summer school students - were already gone. With all of that, it had been a busier summer for Brian than he had anticipated, and he would be enjoying the last bit of summer he had left if it weren't for his own educational needs.
"Not that the universe gives a fuck about those needs either," he muttered testily under his breath before letting out a long exhale, shaking fingers pausing over the keyboard. With all the preparations he had been making for the coming school year in terms of teaching, and then acquiring the books and scheduling for his own educational needs, Brian could not - for the life of him - stare at the scholarship application before him without thinking that it was all bullshit. Bullshit, he thought. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit...and more bullshit. Because that was the only explanation he could give when he was being asked why he needed the money and all he could offer was that he fucking needed the money and who the fuck asked that kind of question? Do you think he'd be in the middle of a twenty page application if he didn't need it? He was a loser, but he wasn't the type of loser to spend copious amounts of time applying for things he wouldn't need.
Sighing again, Brian reached for his coffee only to realize that it was empty. Scowling, he closed his laptop for the moment - a moment of reprieve, thank God! - and rose, bringing the insulated travel mug with him. It was a Thursday evening, close to five pm, so the Mighty Bean wasn't flooded with do-gooders on their way to work. Instead, there were stragglers, some lingering in small groups to discuss homework or just catch up because they weren't ready to call it a day, others in various corners and at different tables like Brian - surrounded by computers and books and papers and trying to be productive about their caffeine addictions and busy schedules. After running his free hand through his tousled light brown hair, Brian then pulled out his cell phone as he waited in line to get his coffee refilled, flitting through the updates to his tumblr feed to text Vincent. At least one of them had to be having a decent day.
To: Vincent
Please tell me you're at least having a good day. Pretty sure I'm ruining my vision the longer I look at the computer screen.