#p:gideon

The snow was thick, and every other minute Gideon had to run the windshield wipers again. This was not the drive he had signed up for; the weather hadn’t said anything about a snowstorm, and yet all it had done for the last forty-five minutes was accumulate on the side of the road and make everything real icy. It didn’t help that it was tarting to get dark out, and Gideon had shit all idea of where he was. The inly thing keeping him on the road right now was Dr. Pepper and Waze.

“Stupid fucking wedding,” he murmured. Chad was greta and all, but he wasn’t gonna risk his life-- or his car-- for some coworker from his last job. Gideon was toying with the idea of turning around and texting Chad some lame excuse when he saw some light on the road ahead. Slowing down, Gideon’s headlights revealed not only a small car but two men as well, backs to the road like they were pissing or something, plump asses hanging out of their pants. it didn’t quite feel intentional, but it was enough to get Gideon’s attention for sure. He honked his horn once and rolled down the passenger window. “You guys okay?”

Finding privacy in the crowded party was difficult, but eventually Yvonne found a relatively empty terrace where they could talk. Since she interrupted Gideon's fight with Melissa, her arm had been firmly looped through her brother's, guiding him away from the chaos. The desert air was hot on her skin as she released her grip on him and let her gaze drift out over the fountain. She drew in a deep breath and turned back to look at her brother, her gaze stern.

"What the hell were you thinking? Picking a fight with Melissa in the middle of the party? And what was that about denying her pain medication? For someone who claims to be uninvolved, you just can't resist getting involved, can you?"

“Congratulations, Man of the Year!” It’d taken a moment to spot her brother at the after party, and truth be told, Yvonne was a little surprised that he came. But, she wasn’t going to waste an opportunity to congratulate him. She threw her arms around him for a tight hug before pulling back and offering him a smile and affectionate laugh. “Now, be honest. Who did you, or let’s be real here, Damon, have to bribe to make that happen?”

           x. @gidsprewett

No acostumbraba a dormirse temprano. Daisy solía ponerse la pijama y sentarse frente a la televisión con Gideon a ver algún programa que les hiciera reír y a tomar una que otra cerveza. Ahora que ambos trabajaban para pagar sus cuentas no solían pasar todo el día juntos, sin embargo, aquel momento del día se sentía como si nada entre ellos hubiese cambiado. 

Esa noche la pelirroja llegó a casa mucho más tarde de lo normal y aunque esperaba encontrar a su mejor amigo allí, él no estaba. Siguió su rutina y se sentó en el sofá, mirando con insistencia la puerta esperando que se abriera y Gideon apareciera, pero mientras más tarde se hacia y no lo hacía, Daisy comenzaba a dudar si debía esperarlo, quizás llegaría en compañía de alguien más y sería incómodo encontrarla a ella allí. 

Estaba tan cansada que fue parte de su imaginación haber ido a su habitación a dormir. Había terminado dormida sobre el sofá.

Her eyes were still burning-- like hot pokers in her skull, unwilling to be removed by any mortal hand-- and yet all she could pull her mind to focus on was what was locked away just three floors below. She’d seen the others paired with Healers before submitting to her own, submitting to the idea that she’d be stuck on this cot until someone was careless enough to let her slip away. She sat where she’d been designated to sit, neck craning and eyes burning for Dorcas, for Gideon-- for anyone who would understand her need to move and would not judge her for wanting to do it on her own terms. 

“Ouch,” Alice hissed, for the Healer-- whose name she could not recall-- had appeared quite suddenly at her side again, dabbing a healing serum on her cheeks, where her nails had left red gashes in the heat of the moments just following the serum’s release. The plump woman apologized endlessly, but Alice could not find it in herself to apologize. She was growing restless, and with restlessness came a loss of manners that she could hardly control-- or apologize for. 

But nevertheless, she slapped as pleasant a look onto her red face as she could manage, and looked up at the Healer. With supplicating voice, she muttered, “Could I trouble you for a glass of water?” She knew good and well that the scatterbrained woman would venture off as asked, and would not likely return any time soon. The chaos of the atrium, in which they were all stationed, was far too much for even the sharpest minds; the poor Healer would get lost in it without question. 

As soon as she was gone, Alice stood, a half-formed idea in her mind as she cast a glance around the room again; getting to anyone who could take on such an idea-- and who may even possess it for themselves-- would not be an easy task. She felt quite like a deer in the headlights, standing by her cot and feeling quite small, with burning eyes and fiery passions in the pit of her chest; one way or another, she needed to move. 

"How long can you hold your breath Longbottom?" 

"Five minutes." 

"Ha, if you can do that then I'll wear one of Molly's dresses." 

Taken by Gideon Prewett who didn't believe that Frank could hold his breath underwater for so long in the Black Lake. circa. 1975.