#anne shirley pack

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

Part 1 of my Anne With An E memes: episode 3

Anne, at the beginning of the episode:

People who've actually been to school:

Anne: my brain is not the issue

Marilla secretly:

Gingers just trying to enjoy the show:

Marilla & Mathew watching anne leave for school:

Reactors: laughing at anne for talking to herself

Me knowing damn well I do that:

Me when Anne stopped to pick flowers:

Diana, when she saw Anne's hat:

Boys (who aren't Gilbert): *breath*

The girls:

Anne: *exists*

Josie Pie:

[reeveskryze]

Shirley Anne Bingham Scene Pack Doctor Who

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish - Part 12

Summary: Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: It has been a super long time since I've posted, like a year or more. I'm going to try to post weekly, but it depends on my schedule. As for a tag list, I'll be starting a new one – please send me a message to be added to the tag list. I don't always get to look through comments, so please message me.

Note Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2700 (SO LONG)

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start

It turned out, in Angus's mind, the dog turned out to be a good distraction for you. It kept you from running around because you found yourself always training the dog. She was an angelic thing, who always got into some kind of trouble along the way. Your whole life you've been much of a rule follower, but as of recently you were finding you had a lot in common with the dog.

With this being said, you have yet to find a name you'd like for her. Often you found yourself filling the boredom by naming old fictional characters you loved when you remember the character Gilbert Blythe from Anne of Green Gables. Outside from being incredibly charming, he was intelligent, kind, and had patience and devotion for the ones he loved. You imagined you had a lot in common with Anne Shirley or you hope you did. And with that thought, you named the dog Blythe.

Jamie enjoyed watching you work with the mischievous creature. He could tell this was the first time you were filled with joy since you arrived in Scotland, "Why don't you go over and talk to the girl," Murtagh said from next to him.

He shook out of his daze, acting like he wasn't doing anything weird, "I like my bullocks, thank you."

Murtagh shook his head, "She wouldn't have that mutt if it wasn't for you, you know."

The men continue to work around and pack things away, "You and I both know she is a stubborn woman, if she wanted that dog enough she would have got it without myself or Ned mentioning a word."

"Coward," Murtagh whispered to Jamie.

"Damn right," he chuckled back.

You were working on the pups reactivity and word commands. While growing up you didn't get to have a pet, but your mother told you about when she raised dogs as a child. Your family moved around a lot, so having a pet wasn't in the cards. "Don't get too comfortable girl, we're going to be off soon," Angus barked at you from afar.

You turned around losing the smile on your face. With the time being away from the castle, you still hadn't earned much trust and you most definitely didn't give the men much energy. Outside of the pup, you were like a empty soul and it was coming to be more evident with every passing day. The dog plopped herself next to you watching Angus with her tongue out. Even Blythe was better respected and well liked by the men, even Angus though he'd deny it if anyone commented. Their acceptance of the dog made you more tolerant to their attitude and patriarchal manner. "Yes master," you bow.

"It's nice you are starting to learn your manners," he smirked back while making gestures towards the men.

With a deep inhale and low tolerance of attitude today you started to trudge towards your horse, "It was sarcasm, idiot," you grumbled.

He appeared to have the same tolerance of my attitude, "Watch your tongue girl or you'll get it cut off," Angus advanced forward while gripping his dagger.

Jamie and Murtagh were about to make a move when another man's voice appeared, "Everything alright miss," a British voice caught your attention.

Angus directed an aggressive response to the man. You turned to look at the man and in your daze started to register things about this man. He had a proper accent, boots, and his hair read a gentleman. He was clearly a British soldier and he could mean serious trouble. You turned to look at Jamie for a split second before charming a smile, "Excuse me sir," you asked, ignoring the comments from the other man to rile this man. This was not the time and place.

You could tell the tension with Dougal increased. He didn't trust what you would say, "I was asking if you were alright," he stepped forward again, ignoring the men behind you.

"Oh, I'm sorry you had to hear all that, sir. You shouldn't have had to hear a lady speak out of tune like that. It was very unbecoming of me," you looked embarrassed. Let's hope your acting skills are up to par. You ignored Murtagh mutter unbecoming to make fun of you, "It's just Angus here is a very, very, very," you paused to look at him, "Very distant cousin." You turn back to smile at the officer, "I sometimes gets so overwhelmed by his voice and tone I just lash out. I apologize," you put you hand on your heart. The dog looked up at you oddly, not recognizing your behaviors.

He smiled at you, not acknowledging the grumbling Scots behind you, "Not necessary, my lady I understand quite well actually." He bent down to scratch the puppy sitting in front of you, "I'm sorry your accent."

You scratch the back of you neck, "Right, I must sound so improper. I'm Y/N O'Mulligian. I came to visit some family here from the colonies at my brother's request. He said I could use some real life hard work. He likes to call me a debutante," you sent him a teasing smile.

Responding well to your story, he rises and smiles at you. A relief was lifted off your shoulders, you were almost past this moment when Dougal interrupted, "Enough," he shouted, "She is the guest of the clan MacKenzie and her business is none of yours." You clearly spoke too soon because the officers defenses shot back up.

"So off you go," Angus finished.

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, "Are you sure you are alright, miss," he looked unshaking at you. He clearly felt so much privilege he did not care remotely about the strapping Scottish men standing around him. You wanted to smack yourself in the forehead how stupid these men had to be to not recognize the importance of this one man.

Dougal looked as if he was going to fight the man. You put your arm on his bicep to stop him, "Of course, good sir," you smile, "It's nice to know chivalry is not dead. I have more hard work to learn as you can see, it was very nice meeting you."

"Pleasure is all mine," he smiled back before frowning around the man watching this moment. He backed away into the blacksmith area to continue his work.

A minute passed by and you felt a firm grip on your arm drag you towards your horse, "It's best you didn't speak," Dougal scolded in your ear.

Anger surged through your body and it took every fiber of your being to say nothing. But as you were shoved onto your horse, you looked in the direction of the soldier and back at Jamie. You knew if you yelled it'd bring attention to Jamie, a fugitive to the English Army.

You continue to seethe on the ride. Blythe sat up, doing her best to see over the horses head to look ahead. "What's the dog's name," Jamie trotted next to you.

"Blythe," you muttered directly.

"What a cute English name," he emphasized on one word of his sentence.

You pulled back on your horse and halted, "Excuse me?"

He chose to stop with you, trying to not say directly what he'd like to say. It's been odd between you and Jamie. You weren't sure if you were pushing him away out of anger or fear, but none the less at this moment it appeared to be anger, "Nothing, it's a cute name."

A sarcastic laugh left your mouth, "No, no, you had a tone," the man halt to watch another scene unfold, "You clearly have something you want to add, some hidden message you feel you want to hide. Say it."

"Nothing, you seem to just like the English a bit more than an Irish Woman from the colonies I thought would," he said like his words meant nothing. It didn't matter the fact that maybe he felt jealous or he had a right to comment on any intention or likes you have. That comment engulfed your whole body into volcano, hell fire fiery.

Heat was written all over your face and Murtagh didn't have enough time cool down your fire with rationality, "The boy is just saying, you were awfully chummy with the Brit," Angus chimed in, "like a girl in heat."

And there goes Mt. St. Helen, "Un-Fucking believable, do you know how fucking dumb you are, like every single on of you are just egg head fucking dumb," you scream enough to make the echo quake the woods around you.

"Lass," Ned sent a warning your way.

Tears started to brim your eyes and Jamie knew he'd set you up to fail again. You point to Ned, clearly a man of reason, "That man back there," you continued to yell, "Was an English Officer out patrolling." You looked to Jamie and everything deflated in you. Everything from the past and the reality of your new world just collapsed in your soul, "I was trying to save you."

A sigh leaves your lips and you talk lightly while using your hands to emphasize your point, "Men are idiots and will always fall for charm, so I used mine to protect you all," you continued to go on, "Call me a hussy, I don't care. And that plan to charm the officer actually worked until you opened your trap, my lord," you bowed your head at Dougal. Something than broke in you, in that moment, you were exhausted at being angry. You had no more fight in you. You gave Jamie another look, "I was scared. I was trying to save you," you whisper.

Taking a deep breath, you dismounted from you horse, "Now where are you going," Angus shouted at you.

The anger stirred up again, spinning around to look at him, "To relieve myself, thank you," you speak loudly while stomping into the woods.

You knew what Dougal did to Jamie in the pubs and you weren't sure why. It wasn't much of your business, but you could see it chipping into Jamie. You were stuck again in your thoughts, give into this new world and let these people in or continue to bury who you knew you were inside a dark cave and never leave.

The ride to the next village was quiet, especially after finding Scottish men hung out on display. You wanted to vomit at the lack of humanity in the cruel act. If this was the normal the British did to Scots, I'm not all shocked of their lack of kindness and trust towards me. I'm sure I wasn't helping the matter either.

When you got to the pub, you chose to join in with the drinking. The owner made a bee line as Blythe trotted behind you and laid at your feet, "Lass, we do not let do-," he stopped mid sentence from the look you were giving him. You were sitting up straight, dead face.

"You were saying, sir," you answered curtly.

"What can I get for you miss," he finished instead.

"A pint of whatever, I am not picky," you said, resting your feet on the chair in front of you.

The men went a distance away from you, you imagine to process the thing they just witnessed. A man approached you with a smile on your face and you shake your head putting your other foot on a chair and shoving it away from your table. He quickly turn around, "You'd make more friends if you weren't so prickly."

Murtagh patted at the dog, "My expression and acts are nothing but kind, sir." He shook his head, "Plus, I don't need any more friends when I only need you."

He chuckles, looking at Jamie, "It was a kind thing you did with the soldier. I'll be the only one to admit, that was a good eye you have."

"Don't think much of it, it was also self preservation because I'm not a exactly the kind British soldiers have a keen sense to protect," the man brought you your pint and you started to drink while you viewed in your surroundings.

He pointed at you, "You like everyone to think you're this cold hearted she witch."

"Maybe I am those things," you said like it didn't bother me to have that reputation.

Murtagh shook his head, "You are quite the opposite lass and the only person you are hurting are you." You roll your eyes sighing as he looks at your with a smirk, "And maybe a red headed boy who I suspect would do anything to see you smile once again." You sit up straighter as Murtagh stands while looking at you, while gesturing to Jamie. He lifts his eyebrows speaking you the truth, "Don't think I only talk to you because your good company. I get sick of seeing the boy mope around with his worry for you. A single smile from you can set his day."

You glare at him as your cheeks warm red, "Mind your business."

When he walks away, you sit and continue to process your reality and options. Every now and again you catch a glance at Jamie. You could see his expression and the change in him over the last few weeks. You stand walking your glass over to the bar with Blythe walking behind you. You could tell Dougal was about to start his speech. He wouldn't need Jamie today if you guessed right. Those hanging men were part of this community they didn't need to see Jamie's scars. You leaned against a pillar near Jamie, "You alright," you asked him catching eyes with Murtagh.

You shake off his knowing look. Jamie stood up straight looking at you bewildered from the sudden change in your demeanor, "Are you talking to me?"

"Don't make it a thing, just answer the question," you whisper.

"Aye, I'm fine," he whispers back, glancing at you for a second too long into silence. He clears his thoughts, "If you don't mind me asking, what changed your mind with speaking to me?"

You smirk, "Murtagh paid me."

He shook his head, "Sure," he was trying to hold back a smile. Something appeared to pop up in his head, "Look Deoiridh, I'm sorry about."

"No," you stopped him, "Jamie, I'm stubborn and I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not from a place like this, so."

You noticed a change in his eyes when you said his name instead of Mr. MacTavish. This is where he stopped you, "I only want to help."

"Does that mean you agree I'm stubborn because Murtagh implied I was prickly earlier and that's why I don't make friends," you say while trying to hold back a grin.

He shook his head making his red hair shake with it, “You see comments like that are a trap and I will not be stepping on that one.”

“Smart man,” you say to him.

“And now a compliment, I might think you are wanting to be my friend again,” he whispered back with a smirk.

You see Dougal getting ready to do your speech, “I should be getting out of here and up to my room. I shouldn��t be down here when,” you stopped to look at Dougal, “Well good night.”

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered back.

“And Jamie, just for transparency sake, the jury is still out if we are friends,” he paused appearing to hold his breath. You offer a small smile, “I need you to walk over to Murtagh and tell him I was nice then I'll consider being your friend. You know for the sake of proving Murtagh wrong. It's the price you have to pay for my friendship.” And before he can respond, you and Blythe make your way upstairs.

[jomiddlemarch]

And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds

Walter had died a week ago and Gilbert didn’t want to go home. He sat at his desk and pretended to himself there was another prescription to write or that he’d told John Campbell to call round when he could, there might be something Gilbert could do for his bad hip, something he’d seen in a medical journal, the receipt for a liniment that truly was better than the salve old Mrs. Thelma Morrison stirred up of an evening, more efficacious and less likely to advertise his arrival with the rank scent of ramps crushed in tallow.

It was a lie.

There was no work yet to be done that would keep him, unless there was some queer version of mercy at play that would deliver a fisherman with a hook deep in his palm, calling for finesse and patience, the lamp lit against the dark.

It was quiet, the voices in the harbor hushed or still, and there was nothing more for him to do but admit the truth.

He simply didn’t want to go home.

It was not that the house would be empty, though that would be its own grief he knew. To go home to Ingleside and find no lamp lit against the dusk, no Anne on the sofa with a basket of mending and a book marked with a frayed scrap of ribbon, no Susan banging about in the kitchen, no Rilla dandling Jims on her knee, cheeks pink with a self-righteous spite as she complained about her Junior Reds, so much like her mother had been at the same age. The rooms all too big, the silence too loud.

And agony and yet, a surcease.

The house was full. Anne and her suffering, her grey eyes dark, her hair dressed very simply, beyond any attempt at vanity, drifted from the sitting room to their bedroom, aimless or beyond settling. Susan, cooking up whatever she thought might tempt one of them to take more than a few bites, catching herself about to mention Walter every third sentence, Miss Cornelia coming by with a basket of baked goods Gilbert would bring on his rounds to prevent wasting the food that no one in the house would eat. Rilla with her sisters, Nan and Di home from the college, all three reminding Gilbert of nothing more than a wilted nosegay, Nan and Rilla’s eyes reddened from weeping, Di’s lips bitten, chapped, her bright hair bundled back in an old-fashioned snood she’d have previously mocked in amused derision, the littlest Meredith girl sitting beside them, too thin, too pale. She’d been in love with Walter, that was clear now, and it was no longer charming or worth shaking his head over ruefully.

So many broken hearts. None he could fix.

Jem didn’t know yet, nor Shirley. He and Anne had agreed not to cable or write either of them. There was nothing they could do but grieve for their brother but that grief might be a distraction they could ill afford. The girls hadn’t argued as he’d expected and it was Rilla who’d spoken up, saying Let him be alive a little longer then while Nan crumpled up the letter she’d been writing to Jerry Meredith.

She would have been telling him about Walter. She wouldn’t risk him, nor the rare chance that he’d come across Shirley or Jem and mention Walter’s death. It was impossible to think Jerry would simply run into Jem in the trenches, except that stranger things had happened and Walter, his inquisitive little boy with his mother’s eyes, had been lost to them. His name on a telegram was all they’d get unless some officer in his battalion had the wherewithal to pack up his few remaining personal belongings and send them back to Ingleside on a ship that didn’t get sunk crossing the Atlantic.

Impossible.

Real.

His office was a place of relative respite. Walter had spent little time there, not interested in doctoring, not like Jem or Di, and so he couldn’t haunt it. There were charts to review and journals to leaf through, and no one came who wanted him to be anything else other than Doctor Blythe.

Not Dad. Not Gil dear.

His own parents, thank God, were dead. Marilla too and Mrs. Rachel. 

The clock ticked. He’d have to leave soon enough.

The face that peered in through the door after the briefest, smartest rap, was not one he’d have ever expected.

“I was sent to fetch you, but we can go the long way back,” Mary Vance said. In the failing light of evening, her queer, pale eyes gleamed like the stones he’d liked to skip across Willowmere when he’d idled on the way home from Green Gables. There was a sturdiness to her shoulders and the set of her chin that had become reassuring to a man who now lived in a house of wraiths. She was twenty-three, just a year younger than Jem, a woman grown and not a girl, though she’d no pretense to vanity in her person or tone. Practical and imperturbable, she was one of the few people he could think of he needn’t take care of.

“Mrs. Blythe sent you?” he asked. He tried not to hope Anne had worried enough to speak of it.

“Mrs. Elliott,” Mary shrugged. She knew he would be disappointed, but she wouldn’t lie. “Said you’d soon be needing a doctor yourself if you missed your supper and she doesn’t think highly of Susan’s fish pie in any case.”

“Fish pie,” Gilbert repeated, getting up from his chair and reaching for his overcoat. He ought to be made of sterner stuff, the autumn only just beginning, but he’d been cold at the marrow since he’d learned of his son’s death.

“Mackerel. Had a good catch, down at the cove. I s’pose old Susan thought as long as it was pie, you’d like it,” Mary replied. She smiled, not coaxing but wry, suddenly reminded him of his mother. Neither was much given to effusiveness or cossetting.

“Susan’s not old and it’s not kind to say it,” Gilbert said.

“But it’s not too rude to hear it,” Mary countered. “She was born old, Miss Baker, and if you told her that, she’d be proud of it.”

He laughed then, a startled, almost choked sound he hadn’t known he was capable of, but she’d been so apt and so matter-of-fact…

“You’re quite observant, you’d make a good doctor,” he said.

“Maybe. Not for the likes of me, all that education. And I’m too blunt,” she replied.

“A nurse then,” Gilbert said.

“The War won’t last forever,” she said. “When it’s over, it won’t all be an agony. Sickbeds and wounds to be stitched. There’ll be other lives to live. Work to do. Dreams, for the ones who put stock in such things.”

“Not for everyone,” he said. His boy, gone away, his voice silenced. It hurt worse than little Joy, who’d never asked just one more question, Papa, at bedtime, before Jem had convinced him to call Gil Dad or Father, who’d never made him notice the dappled light of the woods or made him laugh calming Rilla down from her rage at being called Spider.

“No,” Mary said and Gilbert braced himself for the consolation. The balance. Walter died with honor. He’d had his poem read round the world. He’d made his peace with it. 

It happened. People died young.

Ruby Gillis.

Kenneth West.

Captain Jim’s lost Margaret.

Walter Blythe.

“Mrs. Elliott will have my hide if I don’t get you back before she leaves and Marshall gets antsy left to his own devices,” Mary said. She pulled a very large, very clean white handkerchief from the pocket of her coat and handed it to him. “But we can still take the long way back. I’ll manage the driving.”

“Marigold needs a light hand,” Gilbert said. 

“I’ll manage, Doctor Blythe. You needn’t worry about me,” Mary said. She gave him another sharp look. “I’ll take the hankie back before we’re at Ingleside. Mrs. Blythe and old Susan won’t be bothered. And Rilla’s war-baby said a half-dozen new words today, so they’re in decent spirits. It’s just the pie you’ve got to choke down.”

[librarylexicon]

Writing Patterns

I was tagged by @freyafrida. Thanks!!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Ten? TEN?!?! Well, I am both a slow writer and a chronic fandom hopper, so I think I'll have to dig a few years back for some of these. Let's go!

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1) Family Crisis (Batman): The call came through barely a minute after the destruction of the clock tower.

2) Flight Mode (Batman): Seventeen-year-old Tim Drake sat motionless in his aeroplane seat, face turned towards the large window beside him.

3) Home Assignment (Batman): Dick Grayson was running on fumes.

[Note to Self omitted here because it's an early version of Flight Mode, so its first line is very similar]

4) All the Corners That Are Left (Batman): Dick Grayson – brother, mentor, Batman – woke early from a restless sleep to find a message from his father that read: Change of plans.

5) When Things Go Wrong (Narnia): This is a story about something that happened long ago when your great-great-grandfather was a child.

6) Lost Boy (Rise of the Guardians x Peter Pan): The tiny attic bedroom was stifling.

7) At Home, They Call Me Tintin (Tintin): Captain Haddock and Tintin's first meeting had been unquestionably odd.

[Two anonymous fics omitted here...]

8) Shirley Not (Anne of Green Gables series): Shirley Blythe had been born lucky.

9) Happy Eighteenth (Harry Potter): Her birthday was on the thirtieth of January.

10) Patience (Harry Potter): Come with me, and I can take you on the next great adventure …

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Well, aside from 5 (where I was riffing off the original book) and 10 (where I tried a weird first person style for... some reason), there might be some patterns.

I usually like to introduce the main character, and seem to be more interested in defining the first scene by what it's about than where it's set (with the exception of 6). You won't find nature descriptions or dark and stormy nights here! I also like how I introduced the theme of the whole story in 8.

My first sentences also tend to be shorter rather than longer, and are generally simple "there was" kind of statements rather than packed with action or complicated clauses. Interesting! And, looking at the as-yet-unpublished fic I'm working on right now, it also fits a few of the patterns I uncovered here ;)

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I'm very bad at remembering which of my mutuals post fics. Sorry! But I'll tag a few people (zero obligation, of course): @silent-silver-slip @maychorian @they-reap-what-we-sow @catkin-morgs-kookaburralover and anyone else who sees this who wants to do it!

[burninghillgirl]

fave books please i’m bad at reading not much seems to grip me unless i’m reading the wrong stuff !!

i'm used to read so much but school really stamped that out of me so i get how you feel dw! i just finished the master and margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov which was brilliant and i didn't get bored! the names and storylines are a bit convoluted but it's very good.

some books that got me back into reading because they were so easy to read was Norwegian wood by Haruki Murakami, kitchen by banana Yoshimoto, my year of rest and relaxation by otessa moshfegh, the haunting of hill house by Shirley Jackson, perfume by Patrick Süskind . They're all fairly popular books across booktok and tumblr too so easy to start with.

I'd recommend starting with children's classics too as they are gripping, entertaining and aimed at children starting to discover reading.

Gulliver's travels, Robinson crueso, Anne of green gables!! (I loved these when i was like 13) what Katy did (i also loved these as a kid) etc. basically browse the penguin classic section of well known "children's" books.

Obvs i know adults read them and love them but they are books I remember my parents giving me when i first started to love books :) my attention span isn't great anymore and being a writer too if a book doesn't grip me in the first couple of pages I don't read it. Ik it's harsh but i am very picky lol.

When I'm going to Greece I'm going to pack books I've been meaning to read that are in my bookshelf:

The sea by John Banville

The good thief by Hannah Tinti

Boy parts by Eliza Clark (bought this bc of tiktok too lol)

Water for elephants by Sara Gruen

A lover's discourse by Xiaolu Guo

Letters to a young poet by Rainer Maria Rilke

The girl with the pearl earring by Tracy Chevalier

[darknights04]

Longing

Pairings: Gilbert Blythe x OC

Summary: Isobel Richardson had just moved to Avonlea. Not long after the other new redhead in town, Anne Shirley. But what happens when this young girl catches the eye of Gilbert Blythe.

Warnings: None in this chapter. Just fluff.

Part one of ?

♡🌹♡

Isobel Richardson opened her eyes and sighed as she saw the sun shining bright in the sky out the window. She pulled her pillow over her head and let out a frustrated groan into it. It was only her family's second day in town and yet she was already being forced to go to school. The first day of school officially was yesterday but she was able to get out of going then since it had already started when they arrived. 

Most all of Isobel's belongings were still packed away in trunks so she would have to search and dig for a dress to wear, much to her dismay. She had been tempted to continue to lay in bed until she was too late to go but quickly changed her mind when she heard her father calling her from downstairs. 

The young girl sighed again before throwing her blanket off of her and springing from the bed. She went to the mirror on the vanity across the room and looked at the messy and knotted hair on her head, promptly picking up the hairbrush laying on the table and running it through the knots to smooth it out. 

The next order of business was to find a suitable dress. She didn't want to flash her family's wealth to all of the other children her age on her first day here because she thought it would make her look like a snobby brat. However, a dress that was too raggy wouldn't do either. Her mother always told her that first impressions were everything. In the end, she found a nice moss green dress that would do well, as green seemed to be one of the few colors that went well with her auburn hair. Once that was on, she rummaged around and found a ribbon to match the dress, tying off the top half of her hair behind her head with it. She finally slipped on my white apron over the top and slipped on her boots, calling it a day.

"Are you ready for school, Isobel?" her father, Henrik Richardson asked her when she came downstairs.

"Whether I was or not would that stop you from making me go either way?"

"Probably not, no. It won't be so bad."

"I just don't understand why we had to move. To this town of all places too. Everyone who lives here has probably known each other since they were born."

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll fit right in."

"Oh have you met the girl, Mr. Richardson?" their housemaid, Edith spoke up. Ever since Isobel's mother died Edith had been practically another member of the family. "She's not the type of girl that blends in."

"Thank you for that astounding observation, Edith," Henrik chuckled. "Now, Isobel, eat your breakfast and start heading to school. I wouldn't want you late on your first day. Your supplies are sat on the table under your sweater and hat."

♡🌹♡

Despite her protests, breakfast ended and Isobel had to start making her way to school. The paths were easy enough to follow but it would take about ten minutes to get to the schoolhouse. The paths through the forest were quite pleasing to the eyes, as well as the other senses. It was quite different in Avonlea in comparison to the bustling city they moved from.

As Isobel was walking, she began to hear someone talking. Or barking more like it. 

"You wanna get slandered?" a boy said.

"Sorry I truly meant no harm!"

"Excuse me?" Isobel called to them as they came into view. She saw it had been a blonde boy cornering another small and frail red-headed girl. 

"What's this?" the blonde boy asked. "Who are you?"

"I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something? Because I was hoping one of you would be able to show me to school?"

"Oh yeah we shouldn't be late," another boy with dark hair said. "Mr. Phillips sure gets a dander up about that."

"Gilbert," the previous boy gasped. "Uh- Welcome back."

"Hey, Billy. Yeah, it's good to be back. But we really should be heading to school."

"Yeah, I was just about to get going. See you there."

"You girls alright?"

"School," the red-headed girl gasped suddenly, turning to run away. 

"You're welcome!" Gilbert called after her. "Need anything else? Any dragons around here need slaying?"

"No! Thank you!" 

Isobel and Gilbert both stood dumbfounded at the sight in front of them. The boy looked towards her and she simply shrugged before they both started walking to school together. 

"I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't throw it," she answered. "Isobel. And thank you but I really did have that handled."

"Oh, I could tell. I just thought you may need some help is all."

"Well that's very kind of you but I can fight my own battles."

"I see. Your accent. Where are you from?"

"I'm fae Scotland. I was born in Charlottetown but my mother missed her home in Edinburgh so we moved there when I was only a few months old. My father only recently decided to move back."

"Fae?"

"From, sorry. Different country different terms."

"I quite like it," he said, holding open the door for her. "After you."

"I'm sorry if I was rude," the girl from earlier said. She seemed to have waited for the two others at the door. "I'm Anne."

"I'm-"

"Gilbert!" everyone shouted in the schoolhouse as he was ushered inside and swarmed by boys. 

"I didn't get your name," the strange girl said to Isobel. 

"Oh, I'm Isobel."

"Well, Isobel, would you like to join me in setting my bottle of milk in the stream outside?"

"Gladly," she chuckled. 

Anne offered her arm and Isobel linked hers with it as they walked back outside to the stream. Once Anne placed her bottle in the cool water and stood back up, Isobel went to do the same. 

"I love your hair!" she beamed after a moment. "The deepness of the color is so exquisite and it suits you so well. The green of your dress compliments it quite nicely "

"Yours is just as beautiful."

She chuckled. "The carrot-orange shade of my hair is nothing compared to the divine auburn of yours. I can only hope that mine will someday darken to be the same as yours. Maybe then I'd be a little prettier. And your freckles? They're so subtle one wouldn't think to notice them."

"I don't know what you think you were doing talking to Gilbert Blythe!" a blonde girl suddenly proclaimed to the two red-headed girls, one of which was still crouched by the water behind the other. 

"I..."

"You can't talk to Gilbert Blythe," another girl declared. "You can't even look at him! Just see for yourself."

There was a small blonde girl in a pink dress whose face was red and wet with tears. 

"Ruby has liked Gilbert for three years! She has dibs. There there. The nasty girl didn't know any better. Just like yesterday with your tall tales."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to walk with him. It just happened."

"Well don't let it happen again."

"I won't. I promise. I'll have nothing to do with him."

"And you!" she said turning to Isobel. "Just who do you think you are? Waltzing in here and trying to steal him away from poor Ruby?"

"I think I'm a person with free will. As is Gilbert. Shouldn't he be in charge of his own decisions?"

"You just moved into the house near mine, didn't you?" a girl in a blue dress spoke. She turned to whisper to her friends. "The house her family lives in is close to twice as divine as mine. Our house looks like a shack compared to theirs." 

"My father enjoys living in luxury," she said flatly. "I would be content with living in a shack if I was with those who I loved. I think that's more important than riches, don't you?"

"I wholeheartedly agree," Anne smiled beside her. 

The other girls just glared at them before turning around and heading back into the school. All of them other than the girl in the blue who looked at Anne and sighed. 

"I'll try and smooth things over."

"Don't let them get to you, okay?"

"Oh but I'm so very desperate to fit in. Maybe make some friends."

"Well, how about I be your friend? We can stand out together. Now come one, we'd better get to class."

♡🌹♡

"Open your readers to page 32," Mr. Phillips ordered. The students all obeyed instantly. "We will read aloud Barry Cornwall's poem The Fisherman. Diana Barry. Stand and begin."

The girl from before who wore the light blue dress sighed deeply before grabbing her book and standing up at her desk.

"A... per-i-lous life, and sad as life may be. Hath the lone fisher... on the lonely sea-"

"Perilous indeed," the teacher interrupted. "New girl. Up, continue," Anne and Isobel both glanced at each other. "Uh.. the orphan one."

Anne smiled widely, picking up her book and beginning to read. 

"O'er the wild waters laboring, far from home!" She exclaimed with her tone and actions full of emotion. "For some bleak pittance e'er compelled to roam. Few hearts to cheer him through his dangerous life. And none to aid him in the stormy strife. Companion of the sea and silent air. The lonely fisher thus must ever fare... Without the comfort, hope, with scarce a friend, he looks through life, and only sees its end!"

"Sit down!" Mr. Phillips ordered as the class burst into laughter. Isobel simply sat there confused She didn't understand why they were laughing, had they never read poetry aloud before? "Josie Pye."

The blonde girl from before, who Isobel suspected to be the "leader" of her clique of girls, rolled her eyes before standing with her book and continuing the story in a monotonous tone.

♡🌹♡

Finally, lunch arrived. Isobel knew her option to sit with the other girls (excluding Anne) was out considering Josie Pye sent her a glare as she put a blanket wall up between two easels. 

"Should we go get our milk, Anne?" I asked her.

"Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

The two of them grabbed their lunches so they could eat outside and went to go get their milk bottles from the stream. 

"Hey," Isobel heard from beside her when she crouched down. She looked up to see Gilbert holding a red apple in his hand. "I uh- thought you might want to try this? They're from our orchard, they're real sweet."

"Oh," she smiled, "Thank you, Gilbert. That's really kind of you."

He looked towards Anne who was still looking at the ground, not paying him any attention, and started speaking again. "Sorry if I had known the both of you were coming to school today I would've brought more."

Anne continued to ignore him. 

"Well, we can split it. Right Anne? Or you know, you brought it for your own lunch so we can all three share it if you'd like."

The girl looked towards Anne to get her opinion but she was watching the window. Isobel looked to see the group of girls standing there staring at us. 

"No, trust me it's fine. We have plenty more on my farm. We could keep an entire army fed if we wanted to," he finished with a chuckle. She joined him after a moment. 

"Anne?"

"Please go away," she hissed under her breath, her mouth hardly moving at all, 

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm... WE are not supposed to talk to you."

"Why not?"

Before either of them could answer, Anne let out a frustrated groan before grabbing her friend's arm and yanking her back inside the school, leaving Gilbert behind in confusion still holding the apple in his outstretched hand. 

"We're not supposed to talk with him, Isobel!"

"Says who? Those girls over there who treat you like dirt? Why do you care what they think?"

"Diana says that it's important to fit in and be friends with them. I don't want to ruin my chances of being a part of their group."

Isobel sighed. "Anne. You don't have to be friends with them to be happy. You're just going to make yourself miserable in the end." She simply shrugged. "Now come on, let's go eat our lunch."

♡🌹♡

The students were sitting in class after lunch doing math in silence when Isobel heard a small "psst" beside her. She furrowed her eyebrows and turned her head to see Gilbert smirking at her. She rolled her eyes and continued her work, ignoring him when he did it again. 

A moment or two passed before she noticed a small piece of chalk gently roll over to her foot. The redhead looked slightly to her right and saw Gilbert bent down to pick it up, placing his apple on Isobel's desk. 

"Whoops," he shrugged. 

She chuckled and shook her head. "What are you doing? You're supposed to be working."

He shrugged again. "Just testing a theory."

He then dropped the chalk on the floor again and this time it stopped at Anne's feet. He walked over to her and repeated his actions. When she didn't react he got up and pulled lightly on one of her braids. 

"Hey, carrots!"

"I'm not talking to you!" Anne screamed. Isobel's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as they all witnessed her pick up her chalkboard slate and slap Gilbert in the face with it. 

Gilbert didn't seem phased. Instead, he just sent her a smirk.

"You just did."

"Shirley!" Mr. Phillips sneered. "Get up here! Now! What a vicious display!" Anne looked just as shocked as the rest of us as she set down her slate and slowly walked towards the front of the room. "Is that what they taught you in that orphanage? Unacceptable!"

"It was my fault, sir," Gilbert tried convincing him. "I teased her."

"Quiet Blythe! That's hardly an excuse!" The whole class had been snickering with each other, laughing about how much trouble Anne was in. "Quiet! All of you! Return to your lesson!"

As Isobel looked down towards her board to continue working, Mr. Phillips started to shout again. She looked up to see Anne sprinting towards the door. 

"Where do you think you're going? Get back here! Shirley!"

But she was already gone.

♡🌹♡

"How was the first day of school?" Edith asked as she took Isobel's sweater and hat.

"Just as I expected. Full of pompous girls and ignorant boys. Only one person being the exception in each group."

"But that must mean you met two acceptable people then?"

"Yes. I did. One girl, her name is Anne. She's new like me. She seems to just want to fit in with the others though. And a boy, Gilbert. He seems to be less insufferable than the others but the girls seem to think one of them has staked a claim on him and none of the others are allowed to speak to him because of it."

"Oh, who cares what those other girls say?"

"I certainly don't. Aside from Anne, Gilbert seemed to be the only other decent person in that classroom."

"Well, I'm glad you were able to make a couple of friends. Now run along. Go clean up so you can help prepare supper later."

She nodded and swiftly left to go clean up. 

Maybe this town wouldn't be too bad after all.

[denimbex1986]

'Ever since Russell T Davies announced his return to Doctor Who, there's been anticipation in the air. We've all been waiting, it has now become clear, for The Giggle.

We can't say too much about the third and final 60th anniversary special, which will see out David Tennant's Fourteenth Doctor and Catherine Tate's Donna Noble - not least because a chunk of it is still being kept under wraps until Saturday night. But, oh, we're in for a treat - a beautiful, colourful, chaotic, onslaught of a treat.

After the Doctor and Donna returned to Earth in the final scenes of Wild Blue Yonder, The Giggle picks up with the world in chaos. As Bernard Cribbins declared in his final scene as Wilfred Mott, "It's everybody. It's everything. They're all going mad."

Why? Well, the answer has to do with one man. Neil Patrick Harris makes his Doctor Who debut as The Toymaker, an iconic classic villain from the early years of the sci-fi, taking over from Michael Gough. Davies has previously said that Harris had "never heard" of Doctor Who before he was cast (an impressive feat in itself). It's an astonishing thought when you see him on screen, stealing the show with all the joy, wit, swagger and unnerving-ness of an actor who's done this a thousand times before.

Of course, there are some incredible returning stars, including Ruth Madeley as Shirley Anne Bingham and Jemma Redgrave as Kate Stewart - comebacks that pack a punch. "How do we fight the human race?" Kate asks the Doctor in a genuine moment of horror. It goes without saying that Tennant and Tate are spectacular as always - hilarious in one moment, tear-jerking in the next. We see new sides to Tennant's Fourteenth Doctor - yep, the man is still surprising us after all this time.

But all of this would be futile without the story they've been handed. The Giggle grabs you in minute one and doesn't let you go. Visually, it's beautiful. Audibly, it's beautiful (all hail Murray Gold). It feels like old-school RTD, like the returning showrunner is flexing muscles he hasn't used in a long while, harking back to older tales in obvious and less obvious ways. But it also feels fresh and bigger. And not a moment is wasted.

It's not really that Doctor Who has a new budget (although that doesn't hurt), or that it's beaming out to a bigger audience than ever (also doesn't hurt). The boundaries of the show when it comes to the storytelling have been pushed further and further and, from what Davies has said about the Christmas special and beyond, it sounds like that's certainly not stopping here.

There are more magical moments that have to stay unmentioned and still so much to see, including the next regeneration and a whole new Doctor to meet in the form of the glorious Ncuti Gatwa - undoubtedly, the most important part of the special. But if it's knocked out of the park like the rest of the episode is, this could be one for the ages.

It's not an easy skill to muster up a genuine sense of danger in Doctor Who - after all, the Doctor always wins, right? Right?! But with a writer like Davies, an actor like Tennant and a story like this, when we're standing on the precipice of a whole new age for Doctor Who, who knows what will happen?

See you Saturday night for the show. Allons-y!'

[mwplanet]

Greatest Must-Reads For Mary Ward Students

A list of the best titles to get you hooked on books!

By Jillian Lato

Reading books is an amazing thing to do in your spare time, but sometimes you just don't know what to read next. Reading is also an excellent hobby that can significantly improve your literacy skills. Dr. Seuss once said, “The more you read, the more things you'll know. The more you learn, the more places you'll go!" Here are some book recommendations to get you reading!

Harry Potter series book covers

Photo via Amazon

“Harry Potter” by J.K. Rowling

The spectacular story of young wizard Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, has made a lasting impact on millions of people around the world. With excellent world-building and iconic characters, these seven books are certainly must-reads. Each installment combines fantasy and mystery elements to weave a magical tale. 

The Land of Stories series book covers

Photo via Amazon

“The Land of Stories” by Chris Colfer 

Twins Alex and Conner fall into a magical book and are transported to the Land of Stories, where they attempt to return to their world by collecting magical items from various tales. Alex and Conner encounter several challenges and uncover secrets along the way in this fantastical adventure, which is followed by five more novels and a prequel series, titled “A Tale of Magic.”

Six of Crows Duology book covers

Photo via Amazon

“Six of Crows” by Leigh Bardugo 

Six outcasts attempt a dangerous heist in this thrilling and action-packed fantasy novel. Picturesque and filled with morally grey, complex characters, this book is impossible to put down. The romance is well written and character plotlines intertwine to create a remarkable story. “Six of Crows” is followed by “Crooked Kingdom'', forming a duology. 

All the Bright Places book cover

Photo via Amazon

“All the Bright Places” by Jennifer Niven

This young-adult fiction revolves around Violet Markey, a girl living with survivor’s guilt, and Theodore Finch, a boy intrigued with the concept of death. After crossing paths, the two teens form a special connection as they help each other find the bright places in the dark alleyways of their minds. Emotionally powerful and insightful, this novel is definitely worth reading. 

Defy the Night book cover

Photo via Overdrive

“Defy the Night” by Brigid Kemmerer

An ominous illness runs through the kingdom of Kandala, taking the lives of many citizens. The only cure is a tonic made from the rare Moonflower plant, which is being used exclusively by the rich. Wishing to end the suffering, apothecary apprentice Tessa Cade goes on a mission to steal petals of Moonflower to heal the poor, at great risk. “Defy the Night'' is followed by “Defend the Dawn”, completing the duology. 

Anne of Green Gables book cover

Photo via Amazon

“Anne of Green Gables” by L.M. Montgomery

A classic historical fiction centering around inspirational and imaginative Anne Shirley, “Anne of Green Gables” is considered one of the best novels for all readers. This beautiful story of home, friendship, and coming of age will surely manage to capture your heart. The events of Anne’s life are expanded upon in the seven following books of the series. 

Percy Jacon series book covers

Photo via Riordan Wiki

“Percy Jackson and the Olympians” by Rick Riordan

This funny, action-adventure pentalogy series based on Greek mythology tells the story of Percy Jackson, demigod son of Poseidon, as he attempts to stop the Titan Kronos from destroying Mount Olympus. The Camp Half-Blood universe is continued in several spin-off series’ and companion books, including “The Heroes of Olympus”, “The Trials of Apollo”, “Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard”, “The Kane Chronicles”, “Percy Jackson’s Greek Gods”, and “Percy Jackson’s Greek Heroes”. 

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd book cover

Photo via Amazon

“The Murder of Roger Ackroyd” by Agatha Christie 

Regarded as the greatest mystery novel of all time, “The Murder of Roger Ackroyd” is filled with suspense and thrilling turns. The third novel featuring Hercule Poirot involves the detective solving the murder of his friend, Roger Ackroyd. With an innovative twist ending that defies the rules of mystery writing, this book truly is revolutionary. 

As Jhumpa Lahiri said, "That's the thing about books. They let you travel without moving your feet." We at the Planet hope you found these book recommendations helpful; have fun reading! 

[sporadiceagleheart]

Today's joy with Rachel Joy Scott Friday edits is Rest In Peace to those famous stars & angels Verne Troyer, Richard Griffiths, Alan Rickman, Richard Harris, Michael Gambon, John Hurt, Robbie Coltrane, Helen McCrory, Roberts Blossom, Billie Burke, Frank Sutton, Jim Nabors, Judy Garland, Margaret Hamilton, Clara Blandick, Shirley Temple and baby Leroy, Paul Grant, Leslie Phillips, Robert Hardy, Timothy Bateson, Terence Bayler, Robert Knox, Sam Beazley, Paul Ritter, Dave Legeno, Peter Cartwright, Derek Deadman, Hazel Douglas, Alfred Burke, Jimmy Gardner, Elizabeth Spriggs, Bob Newhart, Tom Poston, Dean Martin, Mary Frann, Betty White, Rik Mayall, Brian Nickels, Jerry Reed, Matthew Perry, Raymond Burr, Mary Ann Jackson, Dorothy DeBorba, Mary Kornman, Mildred Kornman, Peaches Jackson, Peggy Cartwright, Darla Jean Hood, Jean Darling, Peggy Montgomery, Bob Barker, Lucille Ricksen, Michael Kenneth Williams, Pat E. Johnson, Richard Burton, Cyril Cusack, Roger Lloyd Pack, Peter Frye, John Boswell, James Walker, Shirley Rosemary Stelfox, Shirley Jean Rickert, Janet Key, June Marlowe, Virginia Weidler, Jane Withers, Peter Michael Falk, Bruce Kirby, Mike Lally, John Finnegan, Robert Culp, Vito Scotti, Val Avery, Fred Draper, Alan Fudge, Gene Wilder, Jack Albertson, Richard Belzer, Richard Bull, Jerome Guardino, Bill Zuckert, Steven Gilborn, Ed McCready, Paul Carr, James Avery, Parley Edward Baer, Sherman Hemsley, Ellen Albertini Dow, Carl Reiner, Alan Wolf Arkin, Michael Jeter, Debbie Lee Carrington, James Caan, Ed Asner, Ana Ofelia Murguía, Paul Newman, Madge Sinclair, Robert Guillaume, Mary Ethel Gregory, Michael Landon, Katherine MacGregor, Kevin Hagen, Dabbs Greer, John Heard, Leonard Stone, John Candy, Victor Edwin French, Robin Williams, Peter Fonda, Geoffrey Palmer, Olivia Newton-John, Eve Arden, Rose Joan Blondell, Alice Ghostley, Darrell Zwerling, Dody Goodman, Lance Reddick, Andy Griffith, Don Knotts, Anissa Jones, Bridgette Andersen, Dominique Dunne, Samantha Reed Smith, Heather and Judith Barsi, Fred Rogers, Olivia Twenty Dahl, Roald Dahl, Sofie Magdalene Dahl, Walter Elias Disney, Ruth Flora Disney, Denise Marie Nickerson, Louis XVII, Lois Janes, Marie Thérèse de France, Christopher Plummer, Eazy-E, Peter Cartwright, John William "Johnny" Carson,

[ebookvirza]

Download in (PDF) The Hard Blue Sky BY : Shirley Ann Grau

[Read] PDF/Book The Hard Blue Sky By Shirley Ann Grau

Ebook PDF The Hard Blue Sky | EBOOK ONLINE DOWNLOAD If you want to download free Ebook, you are in the right place to download Ebook. Ebook/PDF The Hard Blue Sky DOWNLOAD in English is available for free here, Click on the download LINK below to download Ebook After You 2020 PDF Download in English by Jojo Moyes (Author).

Download Link : [Downlload Now] The Hard Blue Sky

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Description

?A large and delicately colored panorama of summertime on a hot and lonely island off the coast of Louisiana.? ?The New Yorker?West of New Orleans among a few small Gulf islands lies the Isle aux Chiens, a tiny, impoverished strip of land burdened by intolerable heat and roaming packs of wild dogs. Here a handful of Creole families eke out a meager existence by fishing the Gulf waters. Such is the fate of Al Landry and his seventeen-year-old daughter, Annie. All Annie has ever known is the wild sea, but she longs for other people and places, including the glamor of life in the Big Easy. When a cruel, handsome man from the city passes through, he kindles Annie?s fantasies for a life beyond the island. Soon, the young girl faces a decision: remain planted in the predictable life she has always known, or toss it all aside for her dreamed-of adventure.?The Hard Blue Sky is Grau?s debut novel, establishing her as a chronicler of bayou life and the complexities of the Deep South?s most

[thebooksellersdaughter]

Hello!

I've been working in my dad's secondhand bookshop for two years now. It's a good life. We spend our days packing books, sorting books, logging books, shelving books, discussing books, recommending books, selling books, and sometimes even reading books.

For a while I've toyed with the idea of creating a blog to memorialize our daily adventures in the shop (I use "adventures" in the quietest possible terms). So here I am! I have two inspirations: Shaun Blythell's Diary of a Bookseller which is among my dad's favourite books, and the one and only Anne Shirley, my kindred-spirit literary character. I love the romantic, wistful way she views the world and I want to add a bit of that gaze to my own life.

I also, frankly, love writing. I want to work on the craft and I feel like writing anecdotes about the shop is a good place to begin.

I am doing this for myself, but feel free to follow along if secondhand bookshop life is of interest to you. I don't think this will be anything grand. There is no overarching purpose or big idea. There may be a funny incident or two. Perhaps a notable character. But this is mundane life; peaceful and a bit dull.

Welcome to the bookshop. I hope you enjoy your time.

[lemoncupcake]

that's so cute!! and your christmas sounds so nice :D we also have dinner with family (grandma, aunts & uncles, etc) on the 24th and then on the 25th we go to my grandma on my dad's side of the family and have dinner again :))

what are your favorite taylor swift lyrics? (i forgot to say last time by the way, but 'right where you left me' being your no 1 song is so valid!!) do you associate any songs with characters or ships?

and who are your current blorbos?

x - secret santa

yours sounds nice too! we have very similar christmases haha

oh damn. that's a hard question. so, all of right where you left me, as you can imagine (and good for you for having good enough taste to realise it's Very Valid lol). it's not only my fave taylor swift song rn, but also my fave song point blank. i can't even tell you why i like it so much, i just do. like, the whole song just tickles something in my brain, i can't explain. some other taylor swift lyrics i like, under the cut bc i have no moderation:

"i knew you / leavin' like a father / running like water"; "how long will it be cute, all this cryin' in my room? / when you can't blame it on my youth / and roll your eyes with affection"; "salt streams out my eyes and into my ears / every single thing i touch becomes sick with sadness / 'cause it's all over now, all out to sea"; "oh, goddamn / my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand / taking mine, but it's been promised to another"; "i'd kiss you as the lights went out / swaying as the room burned down / i'd hold you as the water rushes in"; "the drought was the very worst / when the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst"; "who could ever leave me, darling / but who could stay?"; "and you can't see me wanting you the way you want her / but you are everything to me"; "and it took you five whole minutes / to pack us up and leave me with it / holdin' all this love out here in the hall"; "could've loved you all my life if you hadn't lеft me waiting in the cold".

i do associate some songs with specific characters or ships, but the great thing about me (sarcastic btw) is that even when a song i'm obsessed with doesn't line up with any characters or ships, i just make up au fics to think about that fit those songs! lol anyways, here are songs that actually fit imo, even without me having to think up aus: olicity + dancing with your ghost by sasha sloan, olicity + i think he knows by taylor swift, olicity + the other side by ruelle, olicity + wildest dreams by taylor swift, oliver + i'll be good by jaymes young, malec + i get to love you by ruelle, izzy + soldier by fleurie, shirbert + invisible string by taylor swift, delena + in my veins by andrew belle, brio + you know me too well by nothing but thieves, brio + love and war by fleurie, kanthony + let it all go by birdy & rhodes.

my current blorbos: felicity smoak from arrow, alec & izzy lightwood from shadowhunters, kate sharma from bridgerton, beth boland from good girls. other characters i love from other shows, in case you don’t like any of my blorbos (i don’t get why you wouldn’t, but ya know, some people don’t have taste lol): amy santiago from b99, rebecca welton from ted lasso, eleanor shellstrop from tgp, alina starkov from sab, anne shirley from anne, annie edison from community, lorelai gilmore from gilmore girls, kate bishop from hawkeye.

[jomiddlemarch]

That it alone is high fantastical

“Oh, Mother, you’ll never guess! You’ll never guess in century of guessing!” Rilla cried out, sounding so much as she had as a little girl, for a moment, Anne could convince herself the War had never happened and that somewhere in Rainbow Valley, Walter sat writing a crown of sonnets in his leather-bound journal, his face dappled by the light, back braced against the bole of a birch tree, his grey eyes unfocused as he searched for his next word.

There was still a white stone in the graveyard. Shirley was in Toronto, having refused (albeit politely) to return to Glen St. Mary, much to Susan’s dismay, and Jem walked with a pronounced limp, his uneven gait announcing him as much as Mary’s voice.

There was a mystery there, Jem and Mary Vance, but Anne couldn’t see any way through it and Gilbert, lying beside her in bed, both of them tired but sleepless, told her not to try. Jem had seemed less removed, less falsely cheerful lately, and had begun talking about the medical course again, perhaps a specialty in obstetrics, a hospital practice. As far away from men dying in battle as he can get, Gilbert had observed and Anne had recalled Joyce’s little face, white as a mayflower blossom, and held her tongue.

Rilla, remarkably, given her exuberant entrance, had done the same in the absence of Anne’s response. Miss Oliver had left Ingleside some weeks ago, so there was no one to suggest Rilla either elaborate or calm herself, as her likeness to a whistling copper tea-kettle was increasingly pronounced.

“If I’ll never guess, dear, you must tell me,” Anne said. It was a relief that Rilla could still be the young girl she ought to be, for all that she wore Ken Ford’s diamond ring on her finger and was capable of a brisk, warm matronliness when it came to raising Jims, now reserved for the writing of letters to his new British stepmother and clucking over the missives she received.

“Faith Meredith has eloped!”

Anne did admit to herself she would never have guessed that, because for all her imagination, she wouldn’t have guessed something impossible.

“But, Rilla, Jem is with your father today, doing the Lowbridge rounds. Susan and I packed a lunch with plenty of pie for Dad and some of that flapjack Jem took to after being in England,” Anne said. He’d been in hospital in England, recovering from the injuries he’d sustained at the Front, in the prison camp, during his escape, none of which was spoken of. Only flapjack and stewed tea and how no cook in England was a patch on Susan and that you may tie to, uttered with some semblance of his old roguish humor.

“I didn’t say she married Jem, Mother!” Rilla exclaimed. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright. She had a look of Gilbert at his most delighted about him, an expression Anne remembered from their childhood. Anne opened her mouth to speak but Rilla interrupted.

“It’s Bertie Shakespeare Drew! Faith Meredith is Mrs. Bertie Shakespeare!” Rilla said.

If Anne hadn’t already been sitting down, she would have, suddenly and gracelessly. As it was, the shirt she’d been mending fell from her lap.

“That’s—why, Rilla, are you sure?”

“I heard it directly from Mary Vance,” Rilla said, lifting a hand to stop Anne from speaking. “And Miss Cornelia Bryant. You know Miss Cornelia has no taste for gossip. Miss Cornelia’d heard it from Mrs. Meredith—”

“Poor Rosemary,” Anne said, before she could stop herself.

“Why poor Rosemary? I suppose they thought Faith and Jem would make a go of it, at least, perhaps Reverend Meredith and Mrs. Meredith did, but the War’s done funny things to people and Faith and Jem, they just didn’t fit any longer,” Rilla said. Sometimes, Anne felt Rilla reminded her of someone she couldn’t name and realized her youngest daughter spoke with the wisdom Anne’s own mother might have had. Plenty of folks in the Glen would find such a thought eerie, but Anne was comforted, for all that she ought to be the one offering a thoughtful explanation rather than receiving it.

“I suppose I meant the surprise, an elopement—”

“They must not have wanted to wait. Or were afraid someone would try to talk them out of it. Bertie’s mother maybe,” Rilla said.

Rosemary or her father, Anne thought. Jem, if he’d been given the chance, perhaps. Perhaps not, if Rilla was correct.

“Bertie Shakespeare Drew,” Anne said. “I remember when he was born. He’s just Jem’s age.”

“He’s not much like you remember him, Mother. He’s all tall and stalwart now and they say he’s going in for engineering, that he learned quite a bit in France, found he had a talent for that sort of thing. And his ears don’t stick out quite so much anymore,” Rilla said.

“There’re more things on heav’n and earth,” Anne said, mangling the quote a bit, fairly certain Rilla would not correct her. “D’you suppose Faith calls him Bertie? Or his full name—it’s quite a mouthful.”

Queenly Faith Meredith, the undisputed beauty of Glen St. Mary, who had a sense of humor but also a sense of herself as beyond any teasing, now to be Mrs. Bertie Shakespeare Drew. Anne smiled to herself and thought how Mary Vance would find a way to make Jem grin over it all. She’s lucky to get him, Mary would say, reversing the order the Glen would have assumed, and Mary, canny and unexpectedly kind, would have the right of it, perhaps.

Susan would be quite outraged and the pastry of her next pie might suffer for it, but Gilbert had always taken an unchristian glee in Susan’s outrage and wouldn’t mind the pastry being a bit heavier. It was still the best piecrust on Prince Edward Island, now that Mrs. Rachel Lynde was no longer living to give Susan a run for her money.

“Miss Cornelia said Faith was heard to call him Will, when she spoke to her parents. It’s after Shakespeare of course, and because he was so determined they marry,” Rilla said. 

“And because Faith wanted to,” Anne said. She wasn’t sure if she meant the elopement or the name, but it was all of a piece.

“Miss Cornelia said they’d gone to New York for their honeymoon and she hoped Faith didn’t come back with a bunch of silly Yankee airs but Mary and I didn’t think that was likely,” Rilla said, sitting down beside Anne, picking up the shirt and starting to sew.

“She didn’t come back from England any different, after all,” Rilla said.

“Except that she didn’t marry your brother,” Anne replied.

“D’you know, Mother, even without the War, I don’t think they’d ever have gone through with it, Faith and Jem,” Rilla said. “It was, how shall I put it, like a childhood fairy tale, the honorable knight and the maiden fair, all sorts of adventures they had in Rainbow Valley. They were always going to grow up. We all were.”

Not Walter, Anne’s heart said. Not Joyce.

“I’m glad of Ken’s name, anyway. And don’t worry, I wouldn’t elope for anything. I want our families around us, as many as we can get, even if we have to wait. We’re rather good at that,” Rilla said. She’d finished the one shirt and picked up another. She peered at it, frowned. “I can’t think what Dad does to his clothes—”

“I’ve made up a thousand stories to try to explain that and I still don’t think I’ve figured it out,” Anne said. “Some things, my darling girl, are beyond explanation.”

This one's for @freyafrida because I didn't manage to squeeze Faith/Bertie Shakespeare into my Jem/Mary fic...

[milsedits]

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[itsgranger]

— anne with an E messy headers

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