azure
“No. I’m not talking about this one. Those memories don’t need to be brought up like that.”
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@gideonmoore-blog1
azure
“No. I’m not talking about this one. Those memories don’t need to be brought up like that.”
celadon
“The color of my mom’s old truck. We all hated it, but it was her first car and she invested so many repairs into it that it wasn’t until nearly the entire thing needed to be replaced that she got rid of it. It was so ugly.”
blond
“My family’s golden retriever. He wasn’t gold, he was blond with flowing locks you’d expect on a human’s head. So majestic.”
fkncallie
“Damn it. I can never get the exposure right on this picture.” Callie muttered to herself. Photography had been a hobby that she had picked up when she was a teen, but it had been years since she had gotten back into it. Before coming to the town, her mother had given her a new camera and the blonde figured she should get some use out of it. The carnival was the perfect place due to all the photo opportunities. Holding the camera up, the girl sighed when she saw someone in her field of vision.
“Can you please move.”
With an uneven shuffled he side-stepped out of her view but kept his sight focused on her with an unwavering stare. “Really?” It was the only word that came to mind and seemed appropriate. He was being sentimental, he knew, but there were millions of photos already online that it would be rare if she made a unique shot. Mostly it was a shame to think any memory she’d make would be from behind a lens. “There’s got to be some vemödalen going on. Why are you wasting your time behind a camera instead of enjoy it for what it’s supposed to be?”
cntrlmagnolia
“sorry, ‘scuse me, don’t mind me,” she said as she ducked and weaved between people. if she thought it was difficult keeping track of a toddler at work she was mistaken because she’d managed to lose her son. “benjamin!” she called out. she looked around for a few seconds before tapping someone on the shoulder. “hi, sorry, have you seen a toddler running around without a momma?”
The monachopsis was setting in his bones, eyeing the kiddish rides and dollar prize games for a stuffed animal rarely anyone kept for longer than a year. Although it was a welcoming gesture, Gideon felt his age with his height, high above many and un-synchronized leaving him standing alone and some uncomfortable distance from the main attraction when his attention was redirected. “Uh, no, I haven’t seen a kid without a mother. You lost one? What does he look like,” he questioned, but his tone was as distant and disconnected as he.
Remember the time I didn’t do an intro on Gideon? Yeah, me neither.
Trigger Warnings for Drug Abuse, Injury, and Death.
It would be cruel to say Gideon’s childhood is easy to glaze over, near simple and a predictable life, but a happy one. He is the eldest of four children, was raised in a good community and loving home. He was closest to his younger brother, third child, teased his sisters without remorse but he had all of their backs when help was needed. He had some friends through high school, a few that he kept in touch while away at university and graduated a little early with a bachelor’s in software engineering with a specialization in game development.
A picture perfect life, with a fun and promising career on the horizon, yet as all must fall from their pedestal, and Gideon’s was a quick disaster. Recently returned home from an away internship-- his bags yet unpacked-- he was invited to lunch by his sister and her husband. Happily placed at a booth in the sun’s light, it should have been a picture perfect meal: they laughed, they talked, Gideon teased them, teased her husband harsher because no one was good enough for his sister, said their goodbyes and planned for a time they could go out again.
Instead at this little diner, placed at a “T” intersection, a driver travelling toward the diner didn’t stop, and crashed through the glass with their table being the first the vehicle encountered. His brother-in-law died en route to the hospital. His sister crashed during surgery. Gideon survived after crashing twice on the operating table, with two additional months of hospital bed rest.
The physical pain was brutal, and without coping to the emotional toll, it was easy to lose himself to any numbing relief. It was easy to attach to the Oxycondone the hospital administered in his recovery, and despite their instruction to limit the use, his increased.
Drugs are expensive, my dudes, and even as a fancy software engineer, Gideon burned through his savings quickly to dealers after doctor shopping through the “appropriate channels” failed. He even tried slipping money from his parents, but was caught in the attempt and the lie meant to cover it before he had the funds in hand. His mothers didn’t blame him, they were more than understanding of his situation and encouraged him to seek help.
That’s when he fled and arrived here at Safe Haven. Gideon believes he has reigned in his problem to a controllable degree, meant to cover the physical damage done to his leg in the collision that still pains him a year after the event. He presently sells completed assignments online to paying university students as a means to fund his addiction, to which he also takes Ritalin to hide the drowsy effects of the pain medications. Sadly, like any addiction, he will become tolerate and his habits with increase with more dependency. It’s only a matter of time.
More info to come later. Message me if you want to plot!
Send a color and my muse will tell you the first thing it reminds them of.
anastasiayork
“THEN I’d admittedly think you were a bit of a dick for now purposely staying in the light, but would inevitably move myself to another room as to avoid further confrontation and continue reading, really.” Ana shrugged, eyes catching sight of the lounged figure over the top of her magazine. If he shifted slightly she would stay, but already she was preparing to grab the small stack of her tabloids and move.
His brows lifted higher the more he realized her words were serious, instead of the sarcasm playing into his banter as he originally thought. If there had been a smile to his lips, it was reversed before it reached any length of recognition. “Oh, um…” As the unfinished words trailed out in sounds, he stood, staggering a little out of balance as he shifted with cords trailing a tail. The lift that finally made to his tiers was quick, apologetic as he spoke, “I didn’t mean it. I mean I was joking. Sorry. If you wanted to trade places…”
anastasiayork
“EXCUSE me?” Ana waited patiently for her voice to be heard, for the object of her line of sight to catch on that they were being politely addressed. Her smile was soft, her expression neutral, bordering pleasant, before she spoke again. “Would you mind shifting over a touch? You’ve positioned yourself directly in my line of light.”
Minds were easily distracted when entertaining fun presented themselves, especially in the form of the game he was testing on his computer, haphazardly setup to be awkward and comfortable in the same position. A soft hummed registered when her words caught up and brought reality back to his sense, and Gideon leaned forward a few inches, apology ready on his lips, as if he was about to shift out of the way but reclined back to his original place. “… What if I did mind?”
clcirewclsh
Hearing the sound of the front door opening, though just barely due to the the pounding rain nearly drowning it out, Claire glanced up, a huge grin on her face as she squinted to see who was standing there. “What? Never seen a person play in the rain before?” She asked with a laugh. Walking up the steps back towards the door, she stopped right outside of it, her grin never faltering for even a second. “Come on. You know you want to come out and play in the rain too. Don’t make me drag you out here”
"Yes, I have,” he started, clearly recalling how his siblings embraced nature in a similar manner: arms open wide, welcoming whatever temporary cold or fever for the sake of fun and encouraging him to do the same. “…and no, I do not.” And like his siblings, days where he would have joined were far away– as if he were an old man, the crick in joints when the weather changed was enough to think twice. “I’ll think I’ll pass on the, uh, being drenched,” he spoke, pushing his umbrella out through the door first before he teetered through the threshold, a subtle limp helping the awkward sidestep around her. “But thank you.”