#blythe household

[simsreaper]

| The Blythe’s own the local pet shop in the town that mainly Harriet Blythe runs while her husband, Avner Blythe works at the hospital. They only have one child and for now that seems like enough for them, though as a doctor in training, Avner is worried about having more with Harriet. |

[raviollies]

TAVERN NIGHT!

Been chipping away at this for several months, but finally completed! Featuring our entire CoS party, from the left: Lancelot, Arameia, Eirwen, Ez, Jien, Vasilli, Blythe and Ireena (& Rahadin lurking in the back)

[torturedcoveydepartment]

I won’t stop looking for a man until I find myself a guy as respectful and as much of a gentleman as Tom Blyth.

[cultivating-wildflowers]

woke her up from her third nap of the day

[mariocki]

New Scotland Yard: Hard Contract (1.5, LWT, 1972)

"I was just wondering what it was like to kill somebody."

"Well, that's a nice thought to start the day, innit?"

"In all my stint in the army, I never did. Not like -"

"Not like me."

"Yeah, well, you bagged a few terrorists in your time, didn't you? I was just wondering..."

"What it was like?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it... it was like... like nothing. You just sit on a roof and wait. For movement. The sun on a rifle. Just a flash, a glint. The first bullet gets you - or gets them, it's as simple as that."

"No involvement?"

"None."

[storm-angel989]

🎀IM SORRY FOR BLOWING UP YOUR INBOX! But Val/Vox(idrc which one) x Anorexic Daughter Reader?🎀

PLEASE READ BEFOREHAND

Hi Friend,

You’re not blowing up my inbox- I keep every request in a google doc and when inspo hits I work on it! If I ever decide I won’t do a request I won’t just delete it- I’ll post and say it directly <3 

Preface for this work:

 I’m considered a plus sized equestrian/plus sized human. Eating disorders come in all shapes, sizes and issues. I believe it’s Blythe Barid who said “If you develop an eating disorder when you are already thin to begin with you go to the hospital. If you develop an eating disorder when you are not thin to begin with, you are a success story.”

Stories like these are based on my own experiences and issues- and on this topic, I’ve had quite a few. Please remember that all bodies are worthy of love and respect, care and concern. It's a tough concept to wrap our heads around, and admittedly I still struggle with it. 

A little background info: 

ED’s are a huge part of my writing that I haven’t published. Ana and Mia are characters I have created (or maybe my own food issues created them). Either way, they’re  separate entities for separate stories- demons that I imagine have their own place in hell as well as in my writings (all of which have been in existence far longer than Hazbin). That being said, naming your ED is something I did and I have done. Even for the purpose of writing this story, the entire thing felt wrong without Ana running the behind the scenes. 

With this one I tried to pain the pain, the anger and frustration behind that never feeling good enough feeling. I would be open to doing part two if folks would be interested. Please also know I’ve written on this topic in several other forms if you explore my masterlist (or I can directly send you the links if you PM me). 

<3 Mandy 

I stepped on the bathroom scale and looked at the number that flashed below. The words of my coach echoed in my mind- I needed to lose the summer weight, or else I would be benched for the rest of the season. She had helpfully provided me with a journal to keep track of my weight, what I ate in a day, activities I did and how many calories I burned in accordance with my VoxTech watch. 

A month ago, I had met her goal, thus ending the weekly weigh-ins. According to her, I had lost enough weight to maintain my place on the team. It was on me now to make sure that I maintained that weight, or lost more. In her exact words, you could never be too skinny. 

“Bebita? Breakfast,” my fathers voice called from the hallway. “Come on, before it gets cold.”

The number told me I hadn’t gained weight, but I hadn’t lost weight either. I picked my backpack up and slung it over my shoulder. 

“Sorry, Dad! I’m late! I’ll eat at school, I promise,” I answered back as I rushed out the door. 

Surely skipping breakfast wouldn’t hurt. 

Skipping breakfast turned into skipping lunch. Skipping lunch turned into avoiding dinner. Sugar free jello and skinny pop became my go to snacks as the numbers in my book slowly but surely began to get smaller. Somewhere, a little voice inside my head began to cheer my successes on the scale. Over time, I learned that she had a name. 

Ana. My secret diet partner. My invisible cheerleader. The willpower I needed to keep going on the hardest days. And most importantly, someone who paid attention to me, 

With each passing day, Ana grew louder. She encouraged me to keep my diet a secret from my family. After all, they wouldn’t understand. Pleasing her, it became almost like an addiction- a game I played with myself to see just how little I could become. Food became nothing more than numbers, an obsession that consumed every minute, every second of my thoughts and desires. 

In my household, it wasn’t hard to keep it to myself. Hell, one could argue that I wasn’t technically even keeping it a secret. My father had a very important job, after all. And my Auntie Velvette and Uncle Vox also wouldn’t have had the opportunity to make the connection. A quick, I ate earlier, sorry! And I got off scott free. Ana cheered with each no thank you I uttered. My head between my knees after practice had become a ritualistic practice. Waiting for the black spots to fade, taking deep breaths to try to regain the energy to stand up and walk out to the awaiting limo. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting at home for me anyway. 

On the daily, I kept a careful eye on my voxtech watch. The first time my blood sugar dropped, I got a call from Vox. Paniced waves rushed through me. A suggestion from Ana to bribe to a friendly tech demon. A brief trade later, I had constant vitals being sent from my watch, my real ones hidden behind a password. With this newfound freedom, outside of homework and practice, my time normally devoted to hobbies or hanging out with friends became time to sleep. After all, I was working on the perfect body. I needed my rest. 

For almost six months, Ana and I were best friends. 

Saturday morning. Game day. One of the busiest days for my father. After all, lust and depravity raked through the weekends like wildfire. Or at least, that was what he claimed. I stood in front of the mirror trying desperately to tighten the drawstring 

“Hey bebita?” I heard my fathers voice call from the hallway. “Baby, are you up?”

“Yeah, Dad. I have a game today,” I snapped as I tied another knot in the string. 

Why the fuck wouldn’t these stupid shorts stay up? I fumed to myself. Every part of my body ached, and even yanking on my shorts sent black spots and exhaustion rushing through my body. I leaned my head against the mirror and tried to take a deep breath. I could do this. I had to do this. 

The next thing I heard was my fathers voice, felt his hand shaking my shoulder. It took every ounce of energy to open my eyes. 

“Bebita? Reader, can you hear me?” Valentino asked frantically. “Princessa, wake up, now!”

“I’m fine,” I muttered as loudly as I could. Somehow, I managed to push myself upright. 

“You most certainly are not fine,” he replied sharply. “I’m taking you downstairs to the doctor, right now.”

Doctor. That meant I would miss the game. No, I had an obligation to my teammates. Somewhere in my head, Ana screamed.

Get up, fatass!

You really want to fuck this up for everyone?

You better not let him take you to the doctor, you do that and you’ll never find perfection. 

“I’m fine,” I growled, louder this time. I pulled myself to my feet and black spots dotted my vision. I felt my fathers arms around me and in seconds, I was off the floor and in his arms.

“Put me down, I can walk,” I tried to yell. Inside my head, Ana screamed louder, demands and insults about my current predicament. I pressed my hands to my head and curled my fingers in my hair, “Dad let me down NOW!” 

He ignored me as he carried me down the hallway. 

“Vox? Velvette? Both of you, with me. Now. We have a problem.” He said loudly. 

“Woah, what’s going….” Vox’s voice began. 

I shoved my hand against my father as he walked through the living room.  To my relief, he set me down on the couch. 

“What?” I snarled as three sets of eyes stared at me. “What the fuck are you looking at?” 

Vox checked his phone and then walked over to me. With one finger, he lifted off my Voxtech watch. 

“Hey! Give that back!” I demanded. “I’m going to be late to my game!”

All three of them ignored me. Wordlessly, Velvette walked away and returned moments later, bathroom scale in hand. She set it infront of the couch and gave me a hard look. 

“Step on.” 

“Fuck you,” I snapped as I stood up. I tried to ignore the black spots that danced just out of sight. “My weight is none of your fucking business.”

“Reader!” Valentino said in dismay. “That’s no way to talk to your Aunt.”

“I’m leaving, I’m already late. Thanks, Dad,” I continued sarcastically as I kicked the scale aside. 

Inside, Ana cheered. I bent down to pick up my backpack and the world around me spun. Three steps,  and Vox’s hand gripped my upper arm. The last thing I heard was Ana’s voice screaming indistinguishable words. 

When I came to again, I found myself in a room of gray and blue. Wires stuck out from my chest, and I tried to cough and spit the feeling of something painful in the back of my throat. I tried to reach up, to shove my fingers down my throat, and my skin met padded white cuffs. 

What the fuck?

You’re going to have to work hard to get yourself out of this one, Ana taunted. Great job getting caught, fatass. 

“Hey, baby, it’s alright, Papi is here,” I heard my father’s voice say somewhere far away. 

“Mr. Valentino, I promise we’ll be in touch when she’s more stable,” a new voice said. “For now, it might be best to give her some space to…”

Indistinguishable arguments. My fathers refusal and reminder of who exactly was in charge here. My Uncle Vox and Aunt Velvette chiming in, a mix of talking him down and agreement. 

Panic shot through me as the haze slowly began to wear away. Realization. Through the fog, only one word came to mind. 

Fuck.

[gatabella]

"I believe in taking care of your hands. I don’t go to a manicurist, but I take painstaking care of my hands and nails myself. I rub hand lotion into my hands after I’ve done some household task. I keep my nails carefully filed, to a nice oval length—never that long, long length. Naturally, it goes without saying that I keep my nails very clean. I use a nail brush and soap for this, and also clean them with an orange stick during the day. Whenever I use nail polish, I use the colorless, or very pale pink."

"I don’t believe in the same hair style day in and day out. One way may be definitely more becoming than another, but you get so bored with yourself! I change my hair around several times a week. Sometimes I comb it back with big four-inch combs. Other times I pile it on top of my head."

-Ann Blyth, Photoplay, Jan. 1951

[merlieve]

Hello! I wanted to request a Gilbert x fem!reader where the reader seeks comfort within Gilbert’s arms after a devastating event in the reader life, the rest is up to you

i’m only me when i’m with you :: g.b

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬, 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲-𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞.

𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 | 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐬: 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐀𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[ Note: you know how i’m a SLUT for hurt comfort, so now i’m chugging this one out, also Dr. Gunn was a real medical publisher, i did my research. sorry if it’s shorter than usual it’s literally 4am ]

The [Last Name] household had been a well-respected family at Avonlea, their reputation of formality and intellect exceeding expectations. That’s why when [Name] had gotten an 80% on her mathematics evaluation, her father ridiculed her for her academic performance;

“How have you managed to get such a scarce grade in mathematics?! Are you an imbecile?” Screeched [Father’s Name], gripping his daughters' worksheet in his hand, veins in his head, almost about to burst. “You’ve shattered our family name!”

Standing in front of her disappointed father, [Name] could hardly do anything, tears flowing from her cheeks, as she felt her heart pounding against her chest.

[Mother’s Name] quickly shut down her husband’s behaviour, “We don’t have the time for this [Father’s Name], let's talk about this in a civilized manner -” “Who cares?! Our daughter’s an idiot!” Interrupted by her husband, she knew better than to fuel his fire. “Times like these, I ask myself if she’s even mine…” Whispered [Father’s Name], tearing [Name]’s worksheet until it was shredded.

As the papers fell in front of her trembling body, [Name] wasted no time in leaving her home, grabbing her coat and shunning the calls of her parents, pleading for her to come back.

…

While walking by the eye-catching rivers and cattle farms of her town, [Name] didn’t seem to enjoy the beautiful scenery, eyes blurry while being filled with tears. [Name] felt like there was no place to go, the once comfort of her own home felt like the last thing she wanted to go back to. If she had nowhere to go, why were her legs taking her to a certain Blythe’s home?

Knock, Knock. Knock.

The faded knocking on the front door startled Gilbert, who was scanning the latest book of Dr. Gunn, he hadn’t expected any visitors to come, ‘then again, it could be the wind,’ and dismissed it, but when he heard a faint; “Gilbert? Is anybody home?” He quickly ran down the stairs, sniffing his clothes to make sure he seemed decent enough.

Opening the door, Gilbert was alarmed at [Name]’s shaky body, “G-Gilbert…” sighed the girl before him, her lovely face drenched in tears. She wasted no moment collapsing in his arms, hugging him with all her baggage. “Don’t let go, please… I’m scared, I don’t know what to do, I have nowhere to go…” Whimpered [Name], shoving her face in his neck, inhaling her beloved’s scent.

Taken aback, Gilbert hadn’t expected [Name]’s sudden vulnerability, but he didn’t need to understand her to give the same amount of comfort back. Hearing her shaky breath, Gilbert’s heart was filled with compassion, “I will never let go. I’ll protect you, darling, I always have and never failed,” Placing his hand on the back of her head while the other patted her back, as he attempted to soothe her.

Whatever happens, [Name] always comes back to Gilbert.

[queenmimi2817]

OC Character Sheets

For

Myers Blythe

Canidae

and Cani’s biological parent, Lyle

I have a lot of art cooking and comms to post so i’ll be doing that for a bit while i work on my big holiday project. (half way done.)

Let’s also hope my household gets the tree up today, (yet I can all ready feel the sluggish energy, but it’s almost con time and i have been non-stop creating or doing art since the beginning of the year.)

[fbfh]

Tristin Dugray lore hcs

wc: 1k

warnings: mentions of broken/dysfunctional families, tristin's siblings both have drug problems, mentions of sexism and abortion (v briefly), mentions of cheating (also v briefly), tristin is not super close with his siblings, brief mention of DUIs (not tristin), I think that's it??

summary: lore on Tristin's family whipped up in my little plastic play kitchen by yours truly lol

a/n: I MISS HIM!!!! I SAW SOME GIFS THAT MADE ME SALIVATE!!!!! also!! in case it wasn't obvious the Dugray family is based on the real life Dupont family, just like how the Huntzbergers are based on the Sulzbergers

song recs: family jewels - Marina (ouch!), be here - palaye royale, everything is romantic - charli xcx

The Dugray family have made their fortune as far back as the American revolution, starting with immigrating to America and manufacturing gunpowder for the American soldiers

This eventually led to the Dugray family owning one of the largest and most established chemical manufacturing corporations in America, DuGray

They invented a number of household names like pyrex, teflon, styrofoam, and even superglue, and also make ppe for people who work with or around chemicals

A while back, they also acquired two bank chains on the east coast, one of which is for east coast businesses, and the other is expanding slowly across america. 

The Dugray family’s net worth is roughly 18.6 billion. I know. 

Also, the Huntzberger family’s net worth is roughly 21.7 billion. I know.

Tristin mentions at one point that he has a “matching set” of baggage with Paris, and we know Paris’s parents are not at all close to her, or each other

We also know that her father is the head of a pharmaceutical company, and when her parents divorced it was in the newspaper

So yikes!

Anyway the only family mentioned by name is Janlon Dugrey, his paternal grandfather (I’m assuming if Janlon was his mom’s dad he would have a different last name yk)

So OBVIOUSLY I had to flesh things out a little 

Looking at this family tree I made a while ago, Tristin has two older siblings: his oldest brother Royce, and his older sister and middle sibling Sutton

They’re both a bit older than Tristin, since his mom is their dad’s second wife

Truett DuGrey married Helena Holshire and had Royce, then Sutton

They divorced when Royce was around 7 and Sutton was almost 5 because Helena suspected Truett of cheating, and Truett suspected Helena of being a gold digger

Both were true

A couple years later, Truett is introduced to Blythe Ross while working on publicity for the banks his family as acquired 

Blythe and Truett didn’t necessarily get along, but she could handle him better than most other women he’s met 

They were actually introduced through Mitchum Huntzberger and his wife Shira, because Shira and Blythe are sisters

Surprise!

So Blythe gets pregnant and Truett can feel another Helena gold digger situation coming

That’s when Blythe tells him she can’t go to his work event because she has to go to a clinic

Truett stops in his tracks and realizes three things at the same time

Blythe is not in fact using a pregnancy to try and get access to his money

He loves his son Royce as much as he’s able to, but he’s already becoming apathetic and Truett can’t pass over the family business to someone with no drive or ambition

Royce is 10 by the way

Lastly, he realizes that this might actually be beneficial to him

So he convinces Blythe not to get an abortion and to elope instead

Once she gets her body back after the baby they’ll stage some wedding photos and claim it was from a little over a year ago so no one knows he had the baby out of wedlock

When she’s 18 weeks along, he schedules a private ultrasound to find out the baby’s gender

He tells her that if it’s a boy, everything will be fine

If it’s a girl, he’ll serve her annulment papers and nice fat alimony and child support checks to keep both of them out of his life

Blythe isn’t sure if she’s relieved or not when the doctors announce they’re going to be having a healthy baby boy, but Truett sure is

So he grows up watching his burnt out older brother and back bone of the family older sister navigate middle school and high school when he’s barely starting kindergarten

They don’t have any harsh feelings toward Tristin

Not really

They were just never that close yk

It’s like the pilot of umbrella academy, “we only see each other at weddings and funerals”

Except really, they only see each other when Truett forces them into whatever is going on with the family business, or to bail each other out of trouble

Royce is just waiting for his trust fund to kick in so he can fuck off and smoke weed in peace

Sutton is desperately trying to keep her image and life together while hiding her nicotine dependency and steadily growing pill problem from the public eye

And Tristin just wants to fucking feel something

His mom has been in and out of “med spas” and “wellness retreats” for so long he wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t recognize him, and the only time he and his dad talk is when he’s making charges go away

Sutton is engaged to this guy Clint

And he’s fine or whatever, Tristin hasn’t really talked to him much before

But he’s keeping his ear to the ground to make sure he treats his sister right

Sure Sutton can be condescending and a total control freak and act more like a mom than his actual mom

But she’s still his sister

So Sutton’s been off planning this huge wedding and trying to start some lifestyle brand for luxury dog beds and organic phone cases or something

Royce barely managed to keep his latest DUI for driving stoned under wraps but Truett still found out and sent him off to rehab

So Tristin starts high school at Chilton feeling almost lonelier than ever

Tristin aches for consistency, for stability

Thanks to Duncan and Bowman he sort of has that

And people like Paris that he’s literally been in school with since he can remember

It’s not that they’re particularly close, but he just likes that she’s always around when he’s going to and from class

There’s a few other people like that too, loose acquaintances that haven’t dropped out or transferred

They make him feel like even if everything else has gone to shit, he still has his winning personality

And he still has Chilton

[redthemarten]

Felt the need to draw one of my OCs, since he doesn't get enough screentime!! This is Blythe, the most tired police officer in the district.

He's a character created to join my friends' "Supernatural Investigation Police Department" au. The world of the supernatural phenomena is mostly foreign to him, but upon being discovered as a wielder of an ancient curse which lets him perceive things normal people (and often even the sn creatures themselves) cannot, he gets his ass dragged over to the department of the weirdos.

He also shares his lodgings with a gossipy household spirit named Lys, whose two favourite hobbies are reading steamy fanfics and also writing equally steamy fanfics based on Blythe's life.

[qalijahbydior]

tom blyth cursing in billy the kid is just yk such a big deal for me esp i'm a cuss machine too but i wouldn't mind if he degrades me or even talk to me while cursing all day. i'll even say thank you then every household chore will be done as he says 🥰🥰🥰 HE'S AN EXCEPTION SLUTS

[kimosims]

There was a well-known saying in high society, one even the most no-gossip types couldn’t help but whisper. "There’s nothing darling about the Darlingtons," they’d mutter to one another the moment a member of the infamous family entered any rare event worth their attention. Never to their faces, of course. Cold as they were, the Darlingtons held far too much power for anyone to dare cross them, even in the slightest. Not that they would care.

However, Albert Leopold Darlington, the youngest of the Earl's four sons, seemed born to defy that belief. He entered the world in the shadow of tragedy, blamed by his brothers for their mother’s death during childbirth. The already distant and severe Darlington household grew even colder, with Albert finding himself not only neglected by his absent father but also tormented by his elder siblings. Life in that vast, austere estate was difficult, to say the least.

Yet, amidst this frigid atmosphere, Albert found solace in the company of the estate’s female servants. His clingy, yet undeniably charming nature won over their affection easily, and they, in turn, provided the warmth that the men of the household so harshly withheld. They would pat his hair and whisper reassurances, calling him a "good boy," allowing him fleeting moments of comfort in an otherwise unforgiving world.

As the years flowed by, Albert’s innocent fascination with femininity blossomed into a deeper, more romantic yearning, drawing him ever further from the path his family had carved for him. Where his brothers found purpose in land management and social dominance, Albert sought refuge in the arts. He poured his spirit into painting and music, enchanting the women of high society with his striking good looks and his profound sensitivity. In a family of hard-edged, pragmatic men, Albert stood apart, his very presence exuding the softness and introspection that the Darlington name seemed to lack.

To the unyielding Darlington men, however, his artistic inclinations were nothing short of ruinous. Every brushstroke and melody was a symbol of wasted potential, a harbinger of disgrace for the family’s name. As the youngest, it was expected that Albert would assume a clerical role, ensuring the Anglican benefits that would bolster their family’s influence. But the thought of such a monotonous existence—shackled by duty, rituals, and societal expectations—filled Albert with dread. He craved the freedom that only a life dedicated to the arts could offer, far removed from the oppressive weight of tradition.

Yet, his father’s decision was final. “You’ve enjoyed the last of your boyhood,” the Earl declared sternly. “Soon, you’ll cease your frivolities and become a real Darlington—a man of duty, not of whims.” The countdown to Albert's adulthood had begun, and with it, the crushing realization that his days of freedom were quickly slipping away.

Of all the children who had once roamed the Blythe estate, none had been as full of life and boundless energy as Florence Lily Blythe. She had danced through the halls of the grand yet decaying manor, her laughter echoing off walls that, even in her earliest memories, seemed a little emptier with each passing year. What had once been a home bustling with staff and grandeur slowly diminished; furniture would disappear without explanation, and the once-lush gardens wilted under neglect. At first, Florence’s youthful exuberance shielded her from the bleak reality, but as the years wore on, she could no longer ignore the steady decline surrounding her.

By the time she was old enough to understand, the harsh truth hit her like a cold wind: her father and eldest brother had gambled away the Blythe fortune. What was once a noble house, proud and prosperous, had been reduced to little more than a crumbling façade. The Blythes still held their titles, but they were nobles in name only, shunned by high society and forced to live on the fringes of the very world they were once part of. Their ruin wasn’t just financial—her father and brother had squandered not only their own wealth, but the money of other nobles, leaving the Blythes in irreparable disgrace.

This fall from grace weighed heavily on Florence, but none felt it more deeply than her mother, a woman of delicate constitution and spirit. Sensitive and fragile, she could not bear the shame and sorrow that engulfed their family. The constant humiliation, paired with the bitter isolation imposed by their peers, broke her. Overwhelmed by grief, Florence’s mother succumbed to a deep sadness, passing away and leaving Florence adrift in a house filled with anger and ignorance. The men in the family—drunk on both despair and literal spirits—took out their frustration on her, lashing out in their unhappiness while drowning themselves in liquor.

Florence’s salvation came in the unlikely form of her estranged aunt, a widow who had lost her husband early in life. With only one grown son to care for, Aunt Beatrice turned her attention to Florence, seeing in the girl a spark of the Blythe spirit that had not yet been extinguished. She swept in with the kind of calm authority only a seasoned widow could possess, pulling Florence from the ruins of her family and thrusting her into the high-stakes world of marriage. With what little wealth she had left, Aunt Beatrice dressed Florence for the marriage market and set her on the path toward restoring her family’s dignity.

But it wasn’t as simple as debuting in society and waiting for suitors to come calling. The Blythe name was tainted, and no amount of finery or charm could erase the scandal that followed it. During her first season, Florence had been a vision—radiant with youth and beauty, her modest grace attracting attention wherever she went. But the cruel reality of her situation quickly became clear. The only offers she received were from men seeking discreet mistresses, those who desired her beauty but wouldn’t dare risk their reputations by tying themselves to the fallen Blythe name. She had been prepared for whispers, for judgment, but the humiliating propositions shattered her optimism.

Now, in her third season, Florence had resigned herself to becoming a wallflower. The once-bright glow in her eyes had dimmed, her spirit weighed down by rejection after rejection. Even her substantial dowry, painstakingly put together by her aunt, was not enough to attract decent proposals. She lingered on the edges of ballrooms, a ghost of the vibrant girl she had once been, waiting for a fate that seemed increasingly out of reach.

That is, until Albert Leopold Darlington took notice. Unlike the others, he saw not just a dowry but an opportunity. Florence’s quiet beauty and her potential for freedom from his own familial shackles drew him closer. In Florence, Albert saw more than a tarnished name—he saw his own path to escape. And Florence, though wary, couldn’t help but be intrigued by the man who didn’t flinch at the mention of the Blythe name.

At one of the season’s many grand soirées, the weight of it all became too much for Florence. Once again, she found herself pressed into the corner of the ballroom, watching the glittering crowd swirl past as if she were invisible. Her gaze drifted to the large windows, where beyond the glass, the world seemed so quiet and serene. She longed to be out there, far away from the endless parade of gowns and whispers, in a place where her dreams of marriage and motherhood were more than just distant fantasies.

As the laughter and conversation grew louder, the flow of elegantly dressed guests too relentless to bear, Florence felt her chest tighten. She needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere, if only for a moment. Slipping away unnoticed, she made her way to the garden, hoping the cool night air would calm her frayed nerves. With each step further from the ballroom, the tension in her body slowly eased, and she breathed in deeply, relishing the stillness that surrounded her.

But tonight, unlike every other night when she had fled the stifling confines of the ballroom for solace in the garden, she was not alone. Unbeknownst to her, someone had followed her—none other than the most sought-after bachelor of the season, Albert Leopold Darlington.

Albert couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers. Marriage had never been something that occupied his thoughts, but the idea of a beautiful, sensitive woman who would allow him to live a life immersed in the arts seemed infinitely better than any future his father had laid out for him. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the striking beauty that the sorrowful woman under the ivy-covered archway in the garden had developed in the years since their first encounter. Always used to being the charming one in any interaction, Albert now found himself utterly smitten by the woman standing before him.

"Miss Blythe," he spoke softly, his voice carrying through the cool night air. "It’s such a lovely evening. What could possibly be so grave as to bring you to tears?"

"Oh, Mr. Darlington," Florence startled slightly at the sight of him stepping into view. "I must apologize for my lack of composure."

"I don't concern myself with such things," Albert replied, offering her his handkerchief with a small smile. "But you still haven’t answered my question."

And for some inexplicable reason, Florence couldn’t hold back. She poured out all of her sorrows, her doubts, her deepest frustrations—everything that had weighed so heavily on her heart.

"Goodness, look at me," she said at last, now free from tears. "Throwing all my troubles at the feet of a stranger. Forgive me, sir."

"But we’re not strangers," Albert said, his smile growing as he gently took her hands in his. "Or are you going to tell me that you’ve forgotten?"

Florence was taken aback. She hadn’t expected someone as busy and desired as Mr. Darlington to remember such a fleeting encounter. It had been during her first season, much like now, and she had slipped away from the ballroom, finding herself in an outdoor space that had a piano. Someone had been playing a lovely melody, and she couldn’t help but hum along. At the time, she thought it was a hired musician, but no—it was none other than Mr. Albert Leopold Darlington!

The moment she realized it, she had stopped singing immediately, her face flushing red like the darkest of roses, and she had quickly fled the scene. It had been such a small, insignificant moment—or so she had thought. Yet him remembering it now stirred something in her heart, something that had long since been dormant.

"I could never forget a voice like yours," Albert said softly, his eyes locking onto hers with a playful glint. "In fact, I’ve been wounded all these years, Miss Blythe, thinking I wasn’t nearly as memorable to you as you were to me."

Florence blinked, startled by the unexpected warmth in his tone. "Surely, Mr. Darlington, you don’t expect someone like me to leave much of an impression on someone like you."

"But you did," he replied with a smile, a teasing lilt in his voice. "And it’s been a terrible burden to carry, knowing I’ve been so easily forgotten."

In that moment, something shifted inside Florence. The playful way he spoke, the sincerity hidden just beneath the surface of his words—it was undeniable. Standing there under the moonlight, in the quiet of the garden, she realized she was completely and utterly captivated by Mr. Albert Leopold Darlington.

Their marriage came swiftly after the courtship that followed in the days after that fateful night. Albert’s father had been staunchly against the union from the very start, issuing a clear ultimatum: if Albert dared to tarnish the Darlington name by becoming involved with the ruined Blythe girl, he would be disinherited and cast out forever. Albert, in his youthful arrogance, saw this as a wonderful proposal. His immaturity prevented him from fully understanding what a life without the luxuries he had grown accustomed to truly entailed. All he could think of was the freedom he believed he was finally attaining.

Mr. Darlington and the newly titled Mrs. Darlington quickly departed for Brindleton Bay, where Albert had promised a fresh start—humble yet liberating, far removed from the suffocating shadows of their former lives. Florence had longed for a sanctuary beside a man who made her feel cherished and vibrant, while Albert sought the freedom to create, away from the expectations of his family.

They secured a bank loan that allowed them to purchase a charming and sizable house by the sea. Albert envisioned his days spent painting, determined to build a reputation as a renowned realist artist, while Florence dreamed of filling their home with children—strong sons to carry their legacy and many daughters she could love and nurture.

But as these two young souls—barely past the threshold of youth—settled into their new life, they soon found themselves face-to-face with the weight of adulthood and its many responsibilities. Were they truly prepared for the challenges that lay ahead?

[scotianostra]

The Scottish actor Phil McCall was born on 26th November 1925 in Glasgow.

It’s always with a tinge of sadness that I watch the video attached to this post, read on and you will know why.

Phil, the son of a Labourer attended St Mungo’s Academy in Glasgow and trained as an actor at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama.

Although not a household name he appeared in repertory theatre in Scotland and England and made a decent living as an actor, appearing in numerous TV shows over his career including the recurring role of Sgt. Dickson in Charles Endell Esq, Coronation Street, Brookside, Casualty, Rab C Nesbit and Minder.

McCall was a favourite of the stage, particularly in Glasgow. His name is ranked high in the list of old- time showmen and panto stalwarts such as Stanley Baxter, Jack Milroy, Rikki Fulton, Jimmy Logan, Johnnie Beattie and Walter Carr.

McCall and his wife, a television and theatre director, both served as head of Scottish Equity. He was chairman for 17 years

In Monarch of the Glen, McCall played the cantankerous old man who had returned to Glenbogle to reclaim his cottage.

In 1997 he joined Gregor Fisher, Juliet Cadzow and two of yesterday’s posts subjects Blythe Duff and William McIlvanney in a public protest in an effort to save the threatened Wildcat Theatre.

Arguably though Phil has went down in history for the immortal words “Pea and ham soup from a chicken, now that’s clever”.

Sadly Phil’s wife found him hanged at their home in Glasgow on 29 January 2002, he was about to open in a play , Fermentation, that night at The Briggait Theatre in Glasgow.

Depression is a killer no matter what age you are, Phil was 76.

[alwayschasingrainbows]

Hi, @alwayschasingrainbows. I have a question for you again. Do you think if Anne had died after Anne and Gilbert were married, Gilbert would have married someone else? This quote got me thinking:

ANNE, trying to laugh:- “Would you marry as quick as that if I died, Gilbert?” DR. BLYTHE, really laughing:- “Quicker, if Susan would have me. Isn’t it about time for supper?

THE BLYTHES ARE QUOTED

Please don't rush to answer. Thank you.

Thank you for the question!

I must admit that my first reaction was a firm "no, never". This type of behavior simply doesn't suit Gilbert's personality, especially since in Anne of Ingleside he openly confessed to Anne: "I couldn't live without you. Always you give me strength."

And, judging from Gilbert's own reactions each time Anne was close to death, he truly meant it:

(When Anne was in danger during the birth of their first baby): "Gilbert, his face gray and haggard from his night’s agony, came down to tell Marilla and Susan." (Anne's House of Dreams).

(When Anne wasn't recovering quickly enough): "But try to be brave—for Gilbert’s sake. He’s so worried about you. You aren’t getting strong as fast as you should." (Anne's House of Dreams).

(When Anne was seriously ill): "Dad was sitting by the library table with his head in his hands. The nurse went in and Nan heard her say she thought the crisis would come that night." (Anne of Ingleside).

We never saw Gilbert's reaction during the birth of their youngest son, Shirley (which was another life-threatening situation for Anne), but we can assume that it was similar to quoted ones.

What is more, Gilbert was a Blythe and - as Marilla had once noticed - took after his father both in appearance and in personality. And, if we trust Mrs. Rachel Lynde: "Old Mr. Blythe never held up his head after her death...just hadn't anything left to live for. The Blythes were always like that...always set their affections too much on earthly things". (Anne of Ingleside).

Side note: Gilbert's father died only a year after his wife's death.

I don't think Gilbert would have ever married again if Anne had died. Susan would have been quite capable of running the household and taking care of the children.

The question is: would Gilbert have been able to live if Anne had died? It might be speculated that he fell so ill in Anne of The Island because he pushed himself too hard after Anne refused to marry him. It would be even even harder for him to deal with a death of his beloved wife - a woman whom he had hoped to spend the rest of his life with, a mother of his children, who was a sense of his entire existance.

On the other hand; perhaps his children would have been his reasons to keep on living. I believe that Gilbert would have felt that Anne had wanted (needed) him to live for their children.

Because what would have become of them if both of their parents were gone? They didn't have any close relatives; of course there were Marilla, Diana, Leslie, Miss Cordelia. But I don't think either of them would have taken more than one or two children; especially since the kids were still so young and needed so much attention. So, the siblings would have to be separated. They might not have much chances of getting a sufficient education or upbringing, too.

That being said, L. M. Montgomery provided quite a few examples of fathers who were not able to take care of their children on their own and therefore had to remarry; Mr. Meredith (Rainbow Valley), Mr. Irving (Anne of Avonlea), Edward Beck (The Blue Castle).

We have an example of Emily's father - Douglas Starr, whose health suddenly deteriorated after his wife had died (Emily of New Moon). We have an example of fathers abandoning their children because of something that their mothers had done (Dr. Burnley from Emily of New Moon, partly Andrew Stuart from Jane of Lantern Hill).

But we also have the examples of fathers taking care of their children and being hands-on dads, in spite of the fact their wives were not there (Douglas Starr, Andrew Stuart, Old Shaw - from a short story "An Old Shaw's Girl"), perhaps (to some extent) Archibald Murray from Emily of New Moon, after his second wife's death (although it might be speculated that his older children were raising his youngest - Juliet).

But I got side-tracked again. To answer your question: I can't imagine Gilbert ever marrying again. He seems to be a type who fall in love only once in a lifetime.