#mildredgunning

[sweetalking]

IT WAS ALWAYS MEANT TO BE ERIN AND RILEY. their downfall will always be a tragic tale. she often thinks of the what - if's, how differently life would have been if they didn't succumb to the pain of life. it was hard to reflect on this time as she knew there would be no changing their current state. they both made their beds and it was unfortunate that they had to lie in it. " was i day dreaming again? "

@mildredgunning , from erin greene

[saintlyiago]

❛ oh, look at you. you've made a right mess of yourself. ❜

@mildredgunning -> one-liner call.

[sparrowsparable]

“Are you really walking by without saying hi?”

His passing by without a hello wasn't intentional, of course. The Gunning household was positioned right across from town square⠀—⠀one of his favourite bird watching spots.

The soft crunch of gravel under leather shoes seemed to fill his ears. John had spotted a blizzard of Dark-eyed juncos swarming the gazebo and was trying to approach as silently as possible.

Mildred's call from the porch startled him but luckily the feathered visitors were unbothered and continued feeding.

"Ah, Millie," he began with an exhale of relief. "I. . . I'm sorry. It wasn't on purpose, I promise."

His smile alone said that. How could he ignore her? He pointed a digit towards the cacophony of chirping.

"See? Dark-eyed juncos. I was hoping they'd enjoy the feeder. I ordered it from a birding catalogue."

A satisfied sigh came from parted lips as he stepped closer to her front steps.

"Would you like to get a closer look with me?"

[tr4umaborn]

i'm gonna just quietly add back riley flynn (@mildredgunning get excited) and nellie crain.

look out for an usher character when we finish the show

[pyreshe]

“ are you feeling better today, miss millie? ” livvy asks from the doorway. something about the room feels different in a way she can’t quite put her finger on. “ i brought you an aspen tree i drew. they look like a forest but they’re all one tree. isn’t that cool? ”

@mildredgunning​ liked 🔥

[slasharch3]

                   something strange is going on. the upsurrgence of a religious agenda startled hassan enough to be worried about it, but only did he truly grow concerned with his son started going to the church. never did he want to limit ali, but this... the sheriff has seen what christianty can do to people, and he didn’t want ali to get hurt. and now there’s this — mrs. gunning, aging backwards, it seemed. he had met her when he first moved to the island. a very old woman, bed ridden with dementia. it was a sad sight, but now? she was walking around, wrinkles smoothing like butter, hair getting its color back, and she seemed to remember her friends and family once again. regardless of what the father was saying, miracles aren’t normal. he wants to remember that.

sheriff hassan is standing with his hands on his hips, far enough away from the church that he can watch but not be seen unless someone was looking for him. when mildred steps up besides him, he glances down at her, hiding any questions he may have with as friendly of a look as he could give. ‘ i’m surprised you’re still out here. they look like they’ll be starting soon, ’     @mildredgunning​.

[shinedied]

@mildredgunning​   ⋯   ❛   people  are  like  that  too,  you  know.  they  start  over.  ❜

         there  was  no  arguing  with  that ,  but  then  why  would  he  of  all  people  think  to  question  it ?  he,  who  had  started  over  in  as  many  towns  and  states  as  years  he  has  on  his  back.  alright,  maybe  not  THAT  MANY,  but  it  felt  like  it  --  feet  wearing  a  track  into  the  pavement  wherever  he  happened  to  go.  wherever  shit  hole  in  the  wall  city  would  bear  him  until  he  wore  it’s  welcome  out.  but  things  felt  different  here,  better ?  he  wasn’t  apt  to  say  just  yet.  he’s  still  trying  to  figure  out  if  the  inherent  darkness  he  feels  is  the  town,  a  person  or  . . .  himself.  that  DARK  CLOUD  he  feels  hanging  over  him  always  seemed  to  get  a  little  muddied  here.  “ don’t  need  to  tell  me  twice.  i’m  looking  for  a  fresh  start  myself. ”  he  starts  with  a  self - depreciating  smile,  “ this  place  friendly  for  that  kind  of  thing ? ”

[finleystevens]

                    ‘ you’re telling me you don’t find this is weird at all? ’ fin had originally came back to the gunning house to talk to sarah, who had called him after finding something strange with her mother’s blood. when he walks through the door, he’s met with mildred, but not the one he had seen when he first got here. much younger, walking around, smiling. it would be a great sight — if fin didn’t know what was causing it. ‘ i know i’ve only been here a few days, but i know what i’m talking about. this isn’t normal. miracles aren’t real, ’     @mildredgunning​.

[nverdied]

             ‘ i  act  cruel  and  reckless  because  i  feel  that  it’s  the  only  way  to  survive.  and  surviving  is  the  only  thing  i  know, ’     @mildredgunning​.

[sparrowsparable]

i forgive you.

Lip quivers after a sharp inhale.

Her words⠀—⠀her warmth⠀—⠀melted the weight off his heart. It was never supposed to end up like this. It was only supposed to be a second chance. Not only for them, but for the whole island.

He swipes a tear from his cheek and takes her hands in his, fingers lacing together so naturally, as if nothing had changed.

John was silent though his wide eyes said enough. They were filled with relief, mixed with grief and disbelief. How could she forgive him? Not only did he fail as a father, but his actions led to the complete and utter destruction of the place she cherished the most. This island. Their home.

He shook his head, mentally scrutinizing himself. He felt as though he didn't deserve her forgiveness, despite craving it for years. But if she was able to do so, perhaps he should do the same.

A weak smile crept across his face as he slowly pulled her hands towards his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to the dorsal side of her hand, gaze unwavering.

"Thank you, my dove," he cooed, voice dripping with gratitude. "Thank you so much."

[huntedvideo]

                    ‘ you don’t have to be good. you don’t have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves, ’     @mildredgunning.

[sparrowsfall]

hello can you please confirm that this is 60s/70s John Pruitt’s canonical look

Millie Gunning took one look at this man and said “sorry George but I’m gonna cheat on you”

[exsocialite]

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[sparrowsfall]

‘ god, we’re so lucky to have each other. ’

       He doesn't remember how he got here.

Pike’s distant bark is enough to startle him. A quiver of the shoulders and a whine of the cool evening wood against his back soon to follow, as he quietly presses himself further away from the scene before him. All summer-dry grass bathed in dusty golden hour light. The edges of his vision have begun to blur, squinting eyes made straw-yellow by the blooming cataracts. He blinks once. Twice. Three times. Trying to gain both focus and understanding, sore attempts to identify the last few hazy silhouettes as they file into their homes. 

      ... Home. He wants to go home.

Wrinkled hands grip the sea-damp edge of the porch swing, at the ready for the push-off and up onto his boot-clad feet, until he feels something. Someone. Wrapping thin, sun-spotted arms around the crook of his elbow. Calm washes over him like the low and lazy tide, the fog bank of his mind lifts, and clarity takes hold as the sweetest voice he’s ever heard, the voice he knows better than any other, breaks through the murk as easy as high-noon sun. 

‘ God we’re lucky to have each other. ’ Mildred always had a knack, a gift, for giving his own thoughts life, as if she could somehow read his mind. Yet another testament to just how well-matched they are. And he could sit and lament about their lost ability to truly explore it. He could. But with the way she’s looking at him now --- all pretty brown eyes shining up at him through her coke bottle glasses, all beaming smile that scrunches up her crow’s feet and laugh lines --- he can’t find the audacity in himself to wallow. There is so much beauty to be found in her antiquity, and John still looks at her as though she’s the single most radiant thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, because she is. Every little age spot and wrinkle and patch of soft loose skin a memory of a life well-lived. As a mother of his child, as his soulmate, as his very best friend. A life he could not be fully present for, no, but a life he was hardly absent for, either. Their entanglement lied somewhere in the between, an abundance of love and passion packed into modicums of time they could steal. And though his heart will always ache for more, for now, he decides to be grateful that their worlds collided at all. A life without Millie Gunning? He’s certain it would hardly be a life worth living.

“ We are... ” His lips pressed to her forehead, he speaks against her powdery skin, his voice scuffed by age but the reverb strong as ever. “ I thank God for leading me here every day. Leading me to you. ” Words are soon sealed with a chaste kiss at her brow. Golden hour turns to blue, their neighbors far too tired and content in their den chairs to pay the island’s eldest any true mind. What trouble can two eighty-somethings cause, anyway? Benefit of the doubt works in their favor, allows John to rest his chin atop her thinning white hair. They are left unnoticed, unbothered, as she scolds him for needing a shave and makes him laugh the hardest he has all week. Saccharine and belly-deep. Some things never change.

Something is happening to them. This he knows to be true. Millie brushes off her requests for walks to her house as time to catch up. And while he doesn’t doubt this, he can tell that she’s beginning to forget. Names of neighbors, faces of friends, where she lives. There’s a subtle fear in her eyes whenever she asks, a fear he is intimate with. He feels it too. He’s heard Warren and Ooker muttering behind his back in the sacristy, worried chatters of how he’s been stuck in loops of consecrations and gospel re-readings. How he keeps losing track of a ritual that should come as second nature. Forgetful he is, deaf he is not.

But as long as he knows where Millie’s house is, he solemnly vows that he’ll be the dutiful shepherd and keep leading her back. Keep spending summer afternoons out on the porch with her. Keep braiding her hair, or clasping her necklace, or opening her jars when the island cold aggravates the ache in her wrists. And he’ll happily keep holding her in his arms, so that they both might get through these days a little more calmly, a little less afraid. 

      He doesn’t remember how he got here, but clearly, he is home.

[sparrowsfall]

@mildredgunning

gently pressing your head against your lover’s back while they cut vegetables, your lover sitting on the kitchen counter while you talk about your day at work and wait for the water to boil, giving them little pecks while they stir the vegetables, eating the food together, washing the dishes together… you know what i mean