#kindredspiritssecretsanta

[mrs-shirley-cuthbert-blythe]

Anne anxiously awaits the girls arrival for their annual gathering...this year she’s hosting at Four Winds!

Gilbert knows better than to get in their way and makes himself scarce to the corner of the garden once they arrive.

Anne delights in showing the girls her new haunts and soon they are up to their old shenanigans...courtesy of Marilla’s famous raspberry cordial.

Happy Holidays @aanneshirley !! I think we think alike ha! I hope you enjoy your gift.

[antspaul]

happy holidays @lollercakesff !!! I wrote you a fic! I hope you enjoy it ~ and have a wonderful holiday season! 

I am posting the fic here, as well as on ao3, as it’s a little long (~10k). 

charity (who is helping who?) 

Summary: AU in which Anne is a little more poor but just as vivacious while Gilbert is a lot more wealthy and a little more cowardly. 

Based somewhat loosely on the book Daddy Long Legs, written in 1912 by Jean Webster. There’s a movie with Fred Astaire and a wonderful musical based on the book. I always thought that Jerusha, the main character, was very reminiscent of Anne. The title comes from the song “Charity” from the musical. 

PART I.

13 July 1899

Dear Ms. Shirley-Cuthbert, 

I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected to receive a full scholarship to the University of Toronto. This scholarship allows deserving young men and women invested in the arts to attend college in pursuit of strengthening their craft. You were selected on the basis of your imaginative and enjoyable writing, which the University hopes that you will pursue once on campus. 

The scholarship will cover your tuition and board for the four years it will take you to earn your Bachelor of Arts, provided to you from a very generous benefactor. There is also a small account in your name that will provide for your books. The funds in this account are stable and will not be replenished, so you are advised to spend very wisely. All additional details about your award are on the attached page.

In order to keep your scholarship, you will write your benefactor letters, at least once per month throughout your tenure at the University of Toronto, informing him of your progress, both academic and creative. Your benefactor will remain anonymous, and you may only address him as “Mr. Smith.” The address is provided below. You may use your book account to purchase postage, if necessary. 

Congratulations once again. We at the University of Toronto will see you come fall. 

Alastair Pendleton 

Director of Financial Aid and Scholarships

University of Toronto

1 September 1901

To my magnificent benefactor, 

I am sorry but I cannot address you as “Mr. Smith”, not when you have changed my life for the better in such a profound way. I can hardly believe that scarcely two months ago I was lamenting my future stuck on the farm and now I am here at the University of Toronto, ready to learn all there is to know in the world! And I have you to thank. 

Please don’t think that I’m an ungrateful child. I truly appreciate everything that everyone has done for me. Until six years ago I lived the sorrowful life of the unwanted child that I was. You see, Mr. Smith, my parents died when I was only three months old. Does knowing I’m an orphan make you think less of me? I hope it doesn’t. I imagine a man as generous and kind as you wouldn’t care. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be giving charity to poor girls such as I. 

Anyway, I lived in an orphanage, among other places, until I was thirteen and the most wonderful people in the world adopted me! Their names are Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert and they are brother and sister. I lived with them on a farm on Prince Edward Island. Have you ever been to Prince Edward Island, Mr. Smith? If you haven’t, you must go. I am quite certain it is the most breathtaking beautiful and splendid place on the planet. 

I was told when I spoke to Mr. Pendleton in person that you don’t need to know anything about my life beyond my schooling and my writing. But since I will likely be mentioning Matthew and Marilla quite frequently, I thought that I would tell you who they were. 

Will you be reading these letters? On the long train ride to Toronto, I thought long and hard about what I would do if I were a mysterious, filthy rich old man giving heaps of money to farm girls who couldn’t otherwise afford college. After a while I just gave up because I am not any of those things and could simply not put myself in your shoes. Marilla always berates me for my vanity, which leads me to think that I could not remain anonymous for very long. My opinion doesn’t matter, of course, but I do hope you read my letters. I intend to pour every speck of gratitude towards you that I possess onto these pages.

What is there left to talk about? Classes don’t start until tomorrow. I know that you wanted to know about my academics, but there isn’t any to talk about yet. I wanted to draft my first letter to you before homework became too overwhelming. Would you like to hear about my friends? My friendships certainly count as personal, but since I will mention them in the future as well, I will introduce them now. 

My best friend and roommate is Diana Barry. Oh, how to describe Diana! She is the most dearest girl in the world. I met her when I had just arrived in Avonlea and immediately recognized her as a kindred spirit. Sharing a room with Diana is a dream come true! Her parents are rigid and close-minded. Perhaps I shouldn’t have written that because they are also very rich and seem to know every other rich person in North America. I don’t mean to be harsh but I’ve seen them make her cry enough times that I think I am entitled to my opinion of them. 

Ruby Gillis is my second best friend. She’s also from Avonlea. She’s a wonderfully nice girl, maybe too nice for her own good. Ruby lacks imagination, perhaps, but sometimes an imagination as big as mine, I have found, can be a burden, as when you can imagine a beautiful future it sometimes leaves the present looking grayer than ever. 

Who else is there to mention? Jane Andrews is the only other girl from home who also got in to U of T (University of Toronto, as I’m sure you know — writing it like that gives me such a thrill!) but I doubt I’ll be seeing her much, as she’s taken residence with her aunt and uncle in town. I’ve also met some new girls and we’ve become fast friends. Their names are Priscilla Grant, Stella Maynard, and Philippa Gordon. As I have just come to know them, I can’t tell you much except I can already tell they are kindred spirits. It’s just something you feel. I feel that we are kindred spirits, too, Mr. Smith. 

I apologize if this letter has gone on too long, or if it’s not the type of letter you wanted me to send you. The letters that come from my desk usually go to someone I know very well, like my friend Cole or Diana’s Aunt Josephine. 

Oh, those are two others I’m sure to mention a lot — Cole is an artist and is the kindest, most gentle soul I have ever come across. Aunt Josephine is a rich old lady who is a sort of parent to Cole. Perhaps you know her, though when I asked Aunt Jo if she was acquainted with an old rich man who sends orphan girls to college to be writers, she said she knew of none. 

All that is to say that I don’t know who you are or what sort of person you are but I vow with all of the strength in my heart to do my very best to write these letters well. 

Until next month!

Your eternally grateful friend, 

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

P.S.: I know you insist on remaining anonymous, but if I were to receive some sort of occasional acknowledgement that you are getting my letters, that would be more than welcome. I only thought I’d let you know. 

FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

21 April 1902

To my beloved benefactor, 

 I have not been able to stop smiling all week! Priscilla tells me I look crazed, with this Cheshire grin stretching across my face but I simply can’t contain myself and it’s all because of you! I don’t know how you found out that it was my birthday last week but your gift came just in time. My handwriting has never looked more beautiful than it does underneath the words “FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT.” Just seeing it on my table sends a thrill down my spine knowing you so thoughtfully ordered this for me yourself. How I wish you would have sent some sort of personal note with it. I know you have never answered my questions before, no matter how many I have asked. I am sorry to tell you that you’ll just have to deal with it as I can’t help but want to know you. Can you really blame me? 

Classes are going much the same as in my last letter. I retook my geometry test and did much better, I am happy to report, due to Phil’s untiring help with studying. I even started to draft some short stories that I have been thinking about, though I find it difficult to put aside the time to write them as my studies keep me more than busy. 

Here, Mr. Smith, is where I get more personal so if you still feel obliged to ignore ramblings about my social life skip to the end of the letter now. 

As you know my birthday was last Thursday. Priscilla, Stella, Phil, Ruby, and Diana decided to surprise me and take me out for dinner! They escorted me to the most charming and expensive restaurant within five miles of our boarding house. At first I felt overwhelming unprepared and underdressed for such a formal occasion, sure that I stuck out like a sore thumb around all of the elegant ladies and gentlemen dining nearby. But soon the waiter brought out course after course of wonderful, delicious food and we were having such a pleasurable time that any insecurity slipped my mind completely. For a moment it seemed that nothing at all could tarnish such an impeccable moment!

But of course as soon as this thought entered my mind Gilbert Blythe showed up to ruin the dinner. As I have not yet mentioned Gilbert to you (that I remember, at least) here is all you need to know about him: he did something terribly humiliating to me when we first met in school at age thirteen and I have never forgiven him for it since. If he had left it at that we would be on better terms now but soon after he left Avonlea and on the few occasions we’ve seen each other since he has made a routine of offending me similarly. So as you can see why his presence at my special birthday dinner was less than welcome. 

Perhaps, had I not known what kind of person Gilbert is, it would have offended me less when he sent a bottle of wine over to our table and offered to pay for my meal. But no doubt he only intended to flaunt his wealth before us like some peacock parading its feathers! He likely thought we would struggle to afford our meal. I have no aversion to certain types of charity, Mr. Smith, as you know, but his assumptions, and that inappropriate bottle of wine, nearly had me storming out of the restaurant in a rage. Diana and Ruby calmed me down and we politely but sternly declined his offer to the waiter. I didn’t see Gilbert’s reaction but I wish I had seen the smugness drop from his face. 

It was a thoroughly exhausting affair. Emotionally, of course. 

22 April 1901

I’m sorry for the interruption. I heard Diana call for me and it sounded quite urgent— a bouquet of flowers, it turns out, had arrived at the front door and were addressed to me. Thinking they were a belated birthday gift I readily accepted them. Imagine my surprise when the note inside revealed they were from Gilbert Blythe himself! I wanted to scream from the nerve of him and throw the flowers out but they were still quite beautiful so Ruby convinced me to keep them. The note on the inside wished me a happy birthday and apologized for his impertinence on my birthday. It almost made me regret writing those harsh things about him above. Almost. 

Anyway, Mr. Smith, this is where my personal ramblings end if you don’t care to read them. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that I spoke to one of the instructors here about my stories and she said they sounded promising and recommended that I submit one to the University literary journal! I might get published before the end of the term, if all goes well! If you care to read my work, I’ve attached the first four pages of a recent story to this letter. 

Yours, 

19 year-old Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, soon-to-be published author

FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

5 February 1902

To my dear but frustratingly mysterious benefactor, 

Can you believe it’s been a year and a half since I found out that you had selected me for the scholarship? I can’t. Since this letter will likely be incredibly short (examinations are upon us and will start soon, so I have little time to write) I wanted to start this letter by offering my undying thanks to you. So here it is: thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! And I’m so horribly mortified that I wrote to you in the manner that I did in my January letter. At the time I felt horribly unsympathetic to the wealthy and took out my frustrations on you. I wish every wealthy person were as kind as you. I suppose I really don’t know how kind you are but something tells me you are wonderfully nice. 

Classes here are going well. I’ve said it before but I love being a sophomore! I finally feel like I truly belong at the University of Toronto. As much as I love Avonlea— have you visited yet? — I’m equally glad to be exploring the world on my own. As stressful as exams are, I love being at school. Even though I’ve been to only a few places in my life living in a city as large as Toronto makes each new day an adventure. I could explore this city for years and still find new nooks and crannies. 

Since time is running short, here are several quick updates: 

Ruby is still considering dropping out. Diana and I desperately try everyday to convince her not to, but our pleas seem to have done nothing to change her mind. It will be sad but not totally unsurprising to see her leave. 

Ever since Aunt Josephine intervened with Diana’s parents, she has more confidently pursued her music. If you’re ever interested in hearing beautiful songs played on the piano then she plays a concert once a month. You could come and I wouldn’t even know you were there! It would be worth it, I promise. 

Stella, Phil, and Priscilla are doing fine as well! Priscilla gets herself into trouble for pulling pranks on our new house matron, but scoldings never seem to bother her. Beautiful Philippa frustratingly has no shortage of suitors willing to do anything for her. It’s maddening in a funny sort of way to watch them trip over themselves to impress her as she pays them barely any notice at all. 

What else? I have started to write for the newspaper! Just as I did in school. I will put in the envelope my very first story. It’s only a little book review but seeing my name in print gives me the same thrill as it did last spring when my story was published. I hope this time my writing will be met with less harsh criticism. 

Well, that’s all I can think of to say today. I’ll try to send a longer letter next week if I can. 

Faithfully, 

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

P.S. I forgot to ask— if it isn’t too much trouble could you send me more stationery? I’m almost out of the paper that you sent me for my birthday. 

FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

10 May 1903

My deeply appreciated benefactor, 

I deeply apologize for the time it took me to write you this letter. I'm also sorry for how many of my letters start out with an apology. I realize it's been more than a month since I sent my last correspondence. Can it be called correspondence if you never write back? You've sent me gifts, which I cherish with all of my soul, but never once have you sent me a single word back. After three years you'd think I would just resign myself to the fact that all you'll ever be to me is a mystery shrouded in enigma, albeit one I'm relentlessly grateful for. But if you know anything about me by now, Mr. Smith, as you should if you've read any of my letters, is that I am as stubborn as a mule. Every person I've ever worked for or belonged to has said as much. 

As I wrote that above paragraph I've realized that some of my words to you could be considered rude. Would you mind terribly if I apologized again? It's just that this week has been one of the worst I have ever experienced. May I tell you about it? I suppose one of the good things about never hearing back from you is that you will never tell me I can't. 

As I write this it's Friday, and the dreadfulness started Monday. What makes everything seem worse is that the weekend was so wonderful. Ruby came for a visit, sporting gifts for all of us from her and Moody's recent visit to America. Seeing her glowing face (I think she may be expecting but if she is, I doubt she knows herself) and hearing about how happy she and her new husband are softened the blow of her departure from school last year and everyone had a delightful time. Then she boarded the train back to the Maritimes Monday morning and everything seemed to put on a shade of gray. 

For the rest of the day both me and Diana were terribly irritable in our sadness to see her go. Our crossness culminated that night when Diana and I had a horrible argument. I can barely recall how it started— I think that I made some offhand comment disparaging Gilbert and she jumped to his rescue, and everything devolved from there. We were shouting horrible things at each other that should never be said out loud, things we didn't truly mean but hurt regardless. We haven't spoken since and though I know we are both regretful I don't know how to approach her and I think she feels the same. Our friendship isn't over, at least, but I yearn for normalcy. Concentrating in class has proved near impossible, even in the classes Diana and I don't share, because I'm so distracted by my guilt and shame. 

To make matters worse, yesterday I checked my mail at the post office and what would be there but not one, but TWO rejection letters from literary magazines. I was reading them up in a secluded tree behind the library, thinking I was alone. The first was firm but polite in their rejection. We regret to inform you that we will not be accepting your work at this time, but please submit more work in the future. The kind of dismissal that comes with an impermanent sting. The next, however, was clearly more personal. The letter described my writing as infantile, superfluous, and shallow— I starting crying on the spot. In my twenty-one years of life, I've been on the receiving end of much harsh criticism, coming from my peers, my teachers, even those I considered my friends. I often turned to writing as a way of comfort and solace in those moments. The thought that I wasn't even good at my one talent was too much to bear. So in my privacy I sobbed harder than I had in years. 

But apparently my spot in the tree was not as concealed as I originally thought. Just as I was about to collect myself and climb down, I heard a man clear his throat and call up to me, "Miss, are you alright?"

I looked down and almost fell off the branch as I realized who it was. "Gilbert?" I exclaimed. 

He looked surprised to see me, a wonder since that day I wore a bright yellow dress and my hair is as red as ever. "What are you doing up there?" he asked me, knitting his eyebrows together in that infuriating way he always does. "Have you been... crying?"

I shook my head but I'm sure it did nothing to hide my frazzled state. 

"Do you need help coming down from there?"

"No," I said but he offered me a hand anyway and I accepted it. 

As I brushed the leaves and bark from my skirt he asked me, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

My meltdown had caused me to miss lunch so I accepted. At the tea house, he as always volunteered to pay for everything which I found frustrating but I've gotten more used to Gilbert over the years.

We talked idly for a while. I asked him about his classes. He's a medical student, did I tell you that? Not in medical school yet, but in a pre-medical program. With all of his money, I don't know why he needs a career but I suppose you have to do something to fill your days. Anyway, I knew this term he's had a number of terribly strenuous courses and I was curious how he was handling them. Everything was going well, he said but didn't appear that interested in talking about himself. 

"Do you want to talk about why you were so upset earlier?" he asked me suddenly. "I would understand if you don't, of course, but perhaps if you told someone you'd... feel better."

I sighed and pulled the letters from my pocket, handing them over to him. He scanned them quickly, raising his eyebrows. 

"Wow," he said once he finished reading. "How could they be so..."

"Blunt?" 

"Wrong," he finished. "These people clearly know nothing. "

I was a bit nonplussed at his reaction. "I should have worked harder on the stories, instead of rushing to send them in. I'm more angry at myself than at those who rejected me."

Gilbert shook his head. "Your work is far from shallow, Anne. If you wrote it, then I'm sure it was amazing." He scoffed at the letter. 

“I didn’t know you had read any of my writing,” I said. 

“I read your articles in the newspaper,” he was quick to reply. 

“Oh. Well, I wouldn’t judge my writing on those little book reviews in the newspaper.”

“No— I meant the newspaper back home. In Avonlea. Bash would send them to me here, and I always loved what you wrote. Everything you wrote carried so much meaning. That stuck with me.”

"Well, thank you, Gilbert," was all I really could say. I felt a strange burst of affection towards him at that moment and it struck me that we are truly friends. Close friends, as close as I am to Priscilla, Phil, and Stella. 

Gilbert has changed these last few years, too. It's the strangest thing. When I first met him and he was a boy of fifteen, he was much like every other boy I met back then— confident, rowdy, foolhardy. Then his father died and on the rare occasion he came back to Avonlea, he seemed to have retreated into himself. We blamed it on the grief and all of the money he came into with his father's inheritance (and, reportedly, that of a wealthy aunt). But recently traces of the old Gilbert, the one who defended me from Billy Andrews and called me Carrots, have resurfaced. I don't know really how I feel about all that. I just know that I was incredibly thankful to have him as a friend yesterday in the tea house. 

Anyways, I know that all of that might have been too personal. I'll stop myself now as I hear Diana coming up the stairs and writing this letter has motivated me to mend things with her. I’ll write more to you in a few days with updates on my courses and all of that (everything is well, don’t worry) but I simply wanted to tell someone. 

Thankful as always, 

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

P.S. It’s Saturday now and Diana and I are on good terms again. I showed her the letters and she too thought they were preposterous. Diana has read the stories I sent in and liked them a lot. Because of her confidence and my talk with Gilbert on Thursday I’ve decided to send you one of my stories. I know you at least like my writing so perhaps someone will enjoy them. 

PART II.

“It still doesn’t feel real,” Anne told Diana as they walked, arm-in-arm, through the front doors of the lecture hall. “Can you believe that it was three years ago that we first walked into this building for our first class?”

“We were terrified, if I recall,” said Diana. “Look at us now— tall, beautiful, intimidating senior girls!” She struck a pose, silly and exaggerated and the two dissolved into giggles. 

They found seats, two right next to each other near the front of the room. Twenty minutes early as they liked to be to every class on the first day, only a few other students had yet arrived. 

“I remember being frightened of the older girls when I was a freshman,” Anne said, pulling out her notebook and pen and placing them squarely on the table in front of her. “Now that I am one, I don’t know what there was to be frightened of. I scarcely feel older than I did back then.”

“Do you think that there will be many lower-years in this class?” asked Diana. 

“I don’t know. If this course was offered my first term here, I would have stopped at nothing to take it.” Anne breathed out dreamily. “To think we’ll be studying only contemporary women writers— this is exactly the kind of course I envisioned taking when I first thought about going to college.” 

“It’s too bad that the others couldn’t fit this into their timetables.”

Anne sighed. “Such is the busy life of a senior. Everyone says that we’ll have loads and loads more coursework this term but I think that I’ll hardly notice if the extra work is something I enjoy. Don’t you agree?”

Diana nodded firmly, and the room started to fill up with other students, mostly girls but a few boys showed up as well. Their instructor, the soft spoken but kind Professor Abbott, arrived five minutes prior to the class’s scheduled start time. He walked through the front door, trailed by none other than Gilbert Blythe, and the two seemed to be engaged in conversation. As they approached the chalkboard and instructor’s desk, Gilbert thanked the man and they shook hands before Gilbert left him. 

“Hello Anne, hello Diana,” Gilbert said, standing in front of their table. “May I sit next to you?”

One of the only free seats in the room was right next to Anne, so she nodded, then asked, “You’re in this class?” 

Gilbert sat down. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Diana gently elbowed Anne for her rudeness. “We’ll be glad to see you at least twice a week now,” Diana said. “Last term we could barely catch a glimpse of you once a month.”

He chuckled. “Yes, the medical faculty keeps us quite busy. If this is how rigorous pre-medical program is, I can’t even begin to imagine the real thing.”

“You’ll get used to it, I’m sure,” Diana said. 

“I have no choice,” replied Gilbert, sardonic but Anne could tell he was in a good mood. 

Up front, Prof. Abbott ordered a red-faced sophomore boy to hand out papers with the reading list. He had prepared one paper for every three students, so Anne, Diana, and Gilbert shared a paper.

“Oh no!” Anne exclaimed as she read one title on the list. 

“What happened?” asked Diana. 

“I forgot to bring a book with me from home. This one here— Elizabeth and Her German Garden— I read it last summer and meant to bring my copy from home so I didn’t have to purchase another. But now I realize that I forgot to pack it, and we’re reading it next week.”

“Don’t despair, Anne, you can borrow mine when I’m done reading the assigned sections,” offered Diana. 

Gilbert cleared his throat. “Actually, I happen to have an extra copy, if you wanted it, Anne.”

Anne perked up. “Really? Thank you, Gilbert!”

After class ended, Gilbert and Anne said goodbye to Diana and started the walk to Gilbert’s nearby apartment. Gilbert leading Anne, they reached his street only a few minutes later, as Gilbert lived only a street or two away from the main campus of the University of Toronto. The houses that lined the road embodied wealth and luxury. Though she had never been there, Anne knew that Gilbert lived in a small but ridiculously comfortable apartment at the top of one of these red bricked buildings. 

She had never been on his street, either, but still the name— Sherbourne Street— felt familiar. As the two ascending the stairs of Gilbert’s building, Anne realized why: somewhere on the street, among its seven miles of fancy house after fancy house, live Anne’s mysterious benefactor. 

Anne laughed out loud. 

Gilbert turned around and threw up an inquisitive eyebrow. “Is something funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Anne. “It’s only that the world of the rich is so remarkably tiny, don’t you agree?”

“I suppose so,” answered Gilbert. “Why do you say that?”

They reached the top step and Gilbert pulled out his key to open his door. 

Anne told him, “I’ve realized that you live on the same street as someone I know.”

Gilbert paused, his key only halfway in the lock. “Oh? Who?”

“Well, I’ve never met him. This might sound strange, but he’s— are you going to open the door or not, Gilbert?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Gilbert let them in. “You were saying?”

“He’s an old rich man who’s been paying for my education. I’ve never seen him in person, you see, but I’ve written him letters for the last three years so I feel like I know him quite well.”

Anne followed Gilbert through his apartment, which was quite larger than it appeared on the outside, until they ended up in a large library room with a fireplace and massive chairs with vast, soft-looking cushions. It was exactly the kind of library Anne yearned to possess herself, where she could sit with a warm cup of tea on a cold winter’s day. 

“The book is over here,” Gilbert said, pointing to a shelf and directing her there. “So… your… old man has written you back often, then?”

“Well, not exactly. But I believe that you don’t have to know a person to know them.”

“That doesn’t make much sense at all, Anne.”

She pouted. “Never mind then. Maybe it isn’t meant to be understood by anyone else but me.”

He laughed, then, a soft chuckle that surprised Anne in its clarity. He pulled a book off the shelf. “Here it is,” he said, handing over his copy of Elizabeth and Her German Garden. 

As Anne took it graciously, she couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t have another copy on the shelf but decided not to mention it. 

~

The rest of the course was as enjoyable as Anne and Diana had hoped. Tuesday morning before class often brought Anne, Diana, and Gilbert together to a nearby tea house to eat lunch and discuss the week's readings. Anne looked forward to their meeting more than almost anything else. Gilbert seemed to appreciate the literature as much as Anne and Diana, even though the books were by women. He was able to offer both a male and medical opinion, the latter of which being particularly valued in their discussion of The Yellow Wallpaper. Both Anne and Diana thought his enjoyment curious, but their instructor was also a man after all. It wasn't so strange, and to have a man appreciating the words of a woman rather than the other way around was empowering to Anne as a writer herself. 

Anne had never seen Gilbert so relaxed as he was during their Tuesday morning book discussions. Usually, in most other occasions when their paths crossed, Gilbert always seemed to be in such a rush, stressed out about business, or class, or some other small thing. Anne had always felt sad for him because of this, but to see him truly at ease painted him in a different light in her mind. His presence became something welcome, more soothing than it had ever been. She had realized they were good friends less than a year ago, and she wondered if Gilbert's father had never died, if business had never kept him away from Avonlea, they would be as good of friends today. 

The term flew quicker than Anne had anticipated, as it was want to do, and soon Christmas was over and exam season was upon them. Anne barely caught sight any of her friends for those two weeks, as everyone boarded themselves in their rooms to study and write essays. The only person Anne saw with any sort of regularity was Diana, which only happened because the two shared a room. 

The Monday of the second exam week, Anne and Diana decided to take a much-deserved break, going for a stroll in a nearby park to clear their minds. 

"Have you seen Gilbert lately?" Anne asked Diana. 

"No," said Diana. "I imagine he is incredibly busy with his own exams. Studying for our exams is hard enough. Can you even imagine what his must be like?"

Anne shuddered. "I would rather not. While I find the human body and all its functions endlessly fascinating, I've caught a glimpse of his more complicated textbooks. I won't be joining the pre-medical program any time soon."

"At the very least, we'll see him at the exam for women's literature," said Diana. 

But when the day came, Gilbert did not show up. Diana and Anne showed up their usual twenty minutes early, expecting to see their friend, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

As the minutes to the exam's start passed, Anne became nervous for her friend. She rose from her chair and said to Professor Abbott, who was seconds away from starting the test, "Excuse me, sir, but shouldn't we wait until Gilbert is here?"

Professor Abbott fixed her with an odd look. "Mr. Blythe won't be sitting the exam."

Had something happened? Had Gilbert dropped the course last-minute? That couldn't be right. He had attended every class. 

Anne badly wanted to ask why, worried about her friend, but Professor Abbott gave her no room to do so, starting to read the instructions for their timed essay. She wrote a fine essay, though it took her longer than it would have had she not been so distracted by the empty spot next to her. When the exam finished, Anne wasted not a second to ask her instructor what he had meant. 

"Mr. Blythe was only auditing the course," was his answer. "Therefore, he did not have to take the exam. I thought you knew that, him being your beau." 

Heat rushed to her face. A younger Anne might have argued that Gilbert was not her beau in the least, but today she thanked him and left with Diana. 

On their walk home, Anne clung to Diana's arm and asked, "It seems very strange that Gilbert would audit a course." 

"It's not so strange," replied Diana. "Gilbert has always been interested in literature, and likely wanted an excuse to read more without having another exam to prepare for."

"Why do you think he didn't tell us?" asked Anne. 

Diana peered at her, a curious glint in her eyes. "I have a suspicion." 

When Diana didn't elaborate immediately, Anne stopped them in the middle of the walkway. A disgruntled set of girls behind them rolled their eyes to wind around them. 

"What is it?"

With a small grin, Diana answered, "I think Gilbert took the class because of you."

"Me?!" Anne said incredulously. "Why would Gilbert do that?"

"You really don't know?" 

"Know what? What is there to know?"

"Never mind," Diana said slyly, pulling them back into motion. 

"Diana, quit messing with my head and tell me." 

Diana laughed. "Are you saying that you really don't see the way he looks at you? He obviously loves you."

Anne didn't say anything, trying to wrap her mind around Diana's words. 

Sighing, Diana continued, "If you don't believe me, just ask him yourself."

Anne huffed, confused at her irritation. "I think I will."

It took a few days to pin down Gilbert, as his exams kept him busy and occupied at the few moments he was usually reliably free. But finally Anne managed to catch him at their favorite tea house, reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee, and sat down without invitation. 

Gilbert looked surprised to see her there. "Anne, hello." He folded his newspaper and set it down in front of him. "Not that you're unwelcome, but what are you doing here?"

"Stella said she saw you here," Anne said.

"Oh," said Gilbert. "Well, do you want something? On me, of course."

"No. Actually, I have a question. An important question. Well, maybe it's not so important, but it could be. Depending on your answer."

"Anne— just... ask the question."

Gilbert looked a little nervous himself, shifting in his chair. 

Anne took a breath. "Right. Sorry. I was only wondering... why did you take the Women Authors course?"

"Oh." He was quiet for a moment and Anne studied his face. "Well, I wanted to educate myself, I suppose, about literature written by women. I felt I didn't know much about the subject."

Unsatisfied, Anne shot back, "You decided to take an extra class for no reason in your last year of the pre-medical program?"

"I wanted to read something other than dry medical books. I'm sorry... did you want another answer?"

Anne sighed and stood up, more dejected than she thought she'd be. "No. I was just being silly. I'm sorry for bothering you, Gilbert. I should go."

"You don't have to."

"No, I should. I have a letter to write."

~

FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

1 May 1904 

Dear Mr. Smith, 

It felt right to address you in a more formal manner today because we have formal matters to discuss. As I graduate in three weeks, I imagine that this will be my last letter to you for some time. Don’t worry, I intend to tell you as soon as something big happens with my writing. You’ll be the first to know, before Marilla or Matthew or even Diana. I could never forget that you are the reason I was able to go to school and reach my full potential. Because of you, I’m not stuck at Green Gables, shoveling hay alongside Jerry or teaching at the small Avonlea school house and never seeing the world for the rest of my life. 

You’ve already given me so much, Mr. Smith, and it doesn’t feel right to ask for more but I can’t help it. It would feel even less right to graduate without you in the audience, watching me. 

Say you’ll come, won’t you? I know you wish to remain anonymous. Your decision to hide your identity has been my constant turmoil for the last four years and I don’t think I could bear to go out into the world without putting a face and a name to the man who has changed my life completely. 

Please don’t be afraid that you’ll disappoint me. Is it presumptuous to tell you that? For all I know, you don’t care about me one bit and haven’t read a single one of my many, many letters. But if you have, and if you have found any meaning in them at all, please tell me you’ll come. I already love you with all my heart. 

If you are brave enough to come, I have included in this envelope the invitation. Matthew and Marilla regrettably can’t make it so if you come, you’ll be the only one there specifically for me. If you aren’t, then I’ll try to forgive you. I’m not sure I’ll be able to, but I’ll really, really try. 

Hoping to see you soon, 

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

~

“Perhaps he’s running late.”

Anne slumped against the stage wall. “There’s no use. He isn't coming." 

Diana pulled back an inch of the stage's curtain once more. She must have seen the same empty seat as before, as she said, "I'm very sorry, Anne."

"What are you two up to?" 

Anne and Diana turned to see Gilbert, dressed in the same black and white graduation robes as them. 

"We're trying to see if Anne's benefactor has shown up," Diana informed him.

Gilbert adopted a pained expression, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "No luck so far, then?"

"The ceremony starts in five minutes," said Anne miserably. "He isn't coming. I don't know why I expected any different. I've written him for four years with barely any response. I'm a fool for thinking today would be any different."

Diana crouched next to her, placing a reassuring hand on her back. "You're not a fool, Anne."

"Perhaps he got called away on urgent business," said Gilbert, with a tone perhaps meant to be reassuring but that came out with a slight irritation. "You never know."

"He's a coward," Anne declared, crossing her arms. "He never cared about me at all."

"You can't possibly know that," Gilbert said. 

"Yes, I can. I can just feel it."

Gilbert infuriatingly pointed out, "Just last month you could feel that he was a kindred spirit."

"Would you stop taking his side?" 

"I'm not taking his side," Gilbert insisted. "But perhaps your day wouldn't be ruined if you tried to consider things from his perspective—" 

"I'm glad to graduate. Then I can finally wash my hands of rich men trying to control my life!"

Gilbert was quiet for a moment. "Is that all you think of me? Just another rich man controlling your life?"

Anne huffed but before she could respond, the professor organizing students called for graduates with B last names. 

Diana stood up next to Anne. "We should probably go line up, Gilbert." 

As they walked away, Diana turned around to shake her head at the other girl, sympathetic but disapproving, a look Anne had been on the receiving end of many times over their nine years of friendship. 

Anne tried to compose herself after that, tried to still enjoy the moment she had anticipated for all her life. But as she walked across the stage, she couldn't stop her eyes from stinging or her heart from aching. 

~

After the ceremony, the University arranged for a banquet of sorts for the recent graduates and their families. When picturing the moment in her head in the weeks prior, Anne had imagined her and her benefactor, who showed up perfectly on time for her graduation and had instantly turned into a grandfather of sorts, walking arm and arm through the crowd so she could introduce him to all of the people she had mentioned in her letters over the years. But in the face of the actual thing without any new friend or grandfather figure, Anne wished to skip the ordeal altogether. 

Still, she had watched the graduations of other students older than her with jealousy for three years, anticipating her own shining moment. So Anne changed out of her robes, put on the new dress Marilla sent her as an apology for not being able to attend, a beautiful, soft blue thing, and resolved to enjoy herself. If she had to avoid Gilbert, then so be it. 

Anne, Diana, and Diana's family sat at a large table under the largest white tent that Anne had ever seen. The sunset cast a pink and orange glow about everything and the faintest chill of evening air had begun to take hold, bringing a divine atmosphere to the banquet. Anne had almost started to relax when Gilbert approached their table. He had something in his hand which he seemed insistent on hiding behind his back.  

He first greeted the Barrys, who always loved Gilbert Blythe, and then turned to Anne. "I was wondering if we could talk." 

Anne swallowed and nodded. Gilbert led her to a bench under a tree, away from the crowds of people. 

"Look, Gilbert, if this is about earlier today, before the ceremony..." Anne was quick to say, "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I had a horrible moment and ruined the day for you, too."

Gilbert shook his head. "I was trying to comfort you, but I only made things worse. And truly I am sorry that you were disappointed so sorely today."

"You aren't to blame," Anne told him. "It's Mr. Smith that I'm the most angry with."

"Right." He cleared his throat. "Well, I didn't bring you here to apologize. I mean not just to apologize. I mean— these are for you."

He held out a bouquet of flowers, beautiful pink camellias, which Anne only now noticed were the object he hid behind his back. 

"Oh, Gilbert, these are beautiful," she told him, eagerly taking the bouquet from his hands. "This is the most lovely apology I've ever received."

Gilbert looked down, a small smile forming on his mouth. "It's not just an apology. It's also a thank you." Then he looked at her, the smile growing to fullness. "You don't know how... valuable your companionship has been these last four years."

Heat rushed to Anne's cheeks as she thought of her reprehensible behavior towards Gilbert the first few years of her time at the University of Toronto. "Even after how horribly I treated you freshman and sophomore year?"

"I probably deserved that," Gilbert said, laughing. "After I left Avonlea, I barely spent any time with people my own age who didn't own at least three homes. I'm afraid I often forgot to act around normal people."

"Still, I could have been a little less harsh." 

"Perhaps that's true."

"So I'm a normal person, then?"

"You're anything but, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert." 

They were quiet for a moment. The wind rustled the leaves of the tree above them as the final few rays of sun sunk below the horizon. 

Suddenly, Anne had to ask a question with an urgency that surprised her. "Gilbert," she said. "This isn't a goodbye, is it?"

He looked at her in surprise. "No. Never." 

"Oh. Good," Anne said, relieved. 

Gilbert looked like he was about to say something, but at that moment a little girl with light brown skin and curly black hair ran up to him. She couldn't have been more than four. He laughed, picking the little girl up.

"Who is this?" asked Anne, not thinking about how disappointed she felt in that moment. 

"This is Delly, my friend's daughter," Gilbert said. He stood up and sighed. "I should probably get her back to her family."

Anne stood up as well. "Yes, probably." 

He walked a few steps away before turning around. Again, he looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he picked up Anne's hand with his free one and kissed it. "I'm really proud of you, Anne."

Her heart beating loudly in her ears prevented her from making any response, and she was only able to watch him walk away, back to the crowds of people, as she tried to reckon with her own feelings. 

~

A | S | C

1 June, 1904

To my forgiven benefactor, 

I know I said that the last letter would be the last letter. I had thought that because I had imagined the last week would go a lot differently than it has. 

If you had come to my graduation, there would have been no reason to continue sending letters in this manner. As I intend to stay in Toronto for the foreseeable future, I had pictured us having tea once a week and discussing books and my writing and the weather or any number of other things. But, as we both know, you did not attend. Before it happened, I had thought that I could never forgive your absence. I know I said that I would try but I was already certain that I wouldn't be able to forgive you. But I have surprised even myself. 

I have realized that I don't know you at all, Mr. Smith, and have made my peace with this. I didn't come to this conclusion easily, that much is certain. I haven't the faintest idea why you never wanted to write back to me, or why you didn't come to my graduation. Perhaps you were busy. Perhaps you have not read a single letter I've sent. Perhaps you were as scared to meet me as I was to meet you. Whatever the reason, I'm afraid I have lost sight of everything you've given me. If our relationship, however one-sided it is, ends with scorn, then every time I think about University and all of the opportunities it has afforded me I would have to think about my anger. A younger Anne would have been content to live that life, but I certainly am not. So there you are, Mr. Smith. This young, foolish girl forgives you. 

I've only now realized how valuable writing these letters has been for my personal development. You are my closest confidant. You know things about me that even Diana doesn't know, which is saying a lot. Had you responded, then I doubt that I would have been as honest as I was. If you'll allow me to be honest one more time, I have quite the dilemma. You see, these letters have allowed me to sort through confusing feelings and I feel more confused right now than I had ever been. 

You see, Mr. Smith, I think I am in love. I wish you could help me. I could use some wisdom right now. As much as I have longed to be in love my whole life, I never thought to think about what it would actually be like. 

When I'm with him, time doesn't exist anymore. And then he leaves, I'm aware of how quickly time passes by and I want to sob. I want to share everything there is. I want him to be there in the morning when I make porridge and I want to be there with him when he's doing the most boring business possible. Every time I read a good book, or think a funny thought, I wish he was next to me so I can tell him about it. At night I hate the moonlight because it's beautiful and he isn't here to see it with me. Do you understand what I mean? I really, really hope that you do. I think anyone who has ever been in love would understand. 

Here is my problem and the source of my anguish: the man I am in love with is Gilbert Blythe. This may come as a shock to you, since I have frequently spoken ill of him in my letters. For this very reason, I am afraid I preemptively damaged my relationship with him permanently. We have since become close friends, but how could he forget how horrid I was to him, enough to love me back? I'm sure he'll also want to be with a distinguished woman from wealth, like that beautiful Winifred Rose I spotted him walking arm-in-arm with last February. I will forever be the red headed orphan girl who slapped him with a slate when I was thirteen. 

I know you won't respond, but I still have to ask you. What do you think I should do? If you could just read this letter and think your answer really, really hard then I am certain I will feel better. 

I will miss writing these letters and I will miss you, Mr. Smith. I will continue to think of you every day of my life. 

Sending you all the love in my heart, 

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

P.S. In this envelope I have included my final transcripts as well as a check for $100. The check is not for much compared to all that you've given me but it's a start and I intend to pay you back every penny that you have spent on me. I received a small sum of money for a short story that will be published soon, and it's a start. 

P.P.S. Did you notice my new stationery? I bought it myself also with the money from the advance. 

A | S | C

6 June 1904

Dear Mr. Smith, 

YES! I will be there— Saturday at noon. I can’t believe that I am finally going to meet you. It doesn’t feel real. 

Love, love, love, 

Anne

~

Once Anne arrived at the address told to her by Mr. Smith, she recognized the building as the tea place she, Diana, and Gilbert went to nearly twice a week during the Fall term. Had her and her benefactor ever been there at the same time? Had they ever crossed paths before, said hello to each other on the street without knowing each others' identity? For the first time in nearly four years, how close they lived to each other truly struck Anne. She knew he lived in Toronto, even knew what street he lived on thanks to the return address on the stationery he sent her every birthday. But they knew about the same businesses, ate at the same places! 

All that time being so close and yet he still never made an effort to visit. Anne wondered if she would come to regret her choice to meet Mr. Smith here today. But she was too curious and had come so far. So she pushed her shoulders back in resolve and entered the tea house with as much confidence as she could muster. 

A waiter in a nice blue jacket greeted her immediately. 

"I'm here to meet with Mr. Smith," she told him.

Comprehension bloomed on the waiter's face. "You must be Ms. Shirley, then. Follow me."

He escorted her past large rooms with tables full of people eating lunch, past the kitchen door, past the restrooms, to a private tea room with a large window facing the park across the street. A large table sat in front of the window, meant to accommodate a large party of people. A single figure stood in the window, a silhouette in the face of the bright sunlight that streamed inside. This was it. She would finally meet her benefactor. Anne's heart stopped as the man slowly turned around. Only, when he did, he wasn't Mr. Smith. He wasn't even an old man. 

He was Gilbert Blythe. 

"Gilbert?" Anne cried. "What are you doing here? 

"Hello, Anne." He swallowed visibly. 

"You must leave now. I'm meeting someone very important and undoubtedly he'll be here soon, so if you could—"

"I know," Gilbert said. 

"If you know, then you know why you must leave," Anne told him, irritation setting him. She approached him to try and push him towards the door. "How you could possibly know is another thing. Did Diana tell you? I told her not to tell anyone."

"No, Anne—" He paused, firm in his footing and grabbed her gently by the shoulders. "I know why you're here because you're here to see me. I sent you that letter."

"Did you impersonate Mr. Smith?" 

"No, what I'm trying to tell you is..." he dropped his hands from her shoulders and moved one to scratch at the back of his head. "I couldn't impersonate Mr. Smith. Because he's me."

Well. Anne wasn't expecting that. She stopped in her tracks, mouth agape. 

"Please, say something," Gilbert begged, a tremor to his voice. 

"You?" was all that she could get out. 

"You're Mr. Smith." 

Blood rushed to Anne's face and she felt her heart and breath speed up dangerously. She grasped the back of a chair, tightly clutching the wood. 

Gilbert pulled out another chair. "Perhaps you should sit down." 

She did take a seat, but it wasn't the one he offered. "You're my mysterious, anonymous benefactor."

He gave a feeble laugh. "One in the same." 

"I don't understand. How can you be Mr. Smith? You're not even old."

Sitting next to her, Gilbert said, "I never understood why you always wrote about my old age. I certainly never said that." 

"Rich men who give orphan girls enormous scholarships are old. That just makes sense," Anne told him, nearing hysteria. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "They aren't pre-medical students I hit with a slate when I was thirteen!" 

"I owe you an explanation. That's why I—"

Anne's hands flew to her mouth in shock. "My goodness, the letters! Every horrible thing in the world about you I wrote in those letters!"

"You said a lot of things to me in person, too," Gilbert pointed out dryly.

"That's different! I didn't know I was insulting my benefactor to his face!" If it were possible, Anne felt her face growing even warmer. She surely looked like a tomato, with her face red enough to match her hair. "And you read my letters?"

"Every single one. They were the best part of my month."

"Every single one?" Anne echoed. "I suppose there's no hope that you skipped the last one, then?"

"I meant every one." 

She buried her face into the table. "If Mr. Smith had been my matron from the orphanage, it would have been easier to take."

He patted her back awkwardly. "Well, I'm not so bad, am I?"

Anne wanted to scream, taking a deep breath to avoid doing so. "Could you just promise to forget about the last letter and never mention it ever again?"

"I'm afraid I could never do that, Anne." 

"And why not?"

"Well, I— I just couldn't." 

"Why would you do this, Gilbert? I can't wrap my mind around it. I just don't understand."

Leaning back in his chair, Gilbert paused a moment before saying, "You wouldn't have let me pay for your education any other way."

"You still should have asked."

"Maybe so," Gilbert said. "But come on, Anne, I've known how stubborn you are since we were kids. I had the bruises to prove it. And when I heard that you had been accepted into the U of T but couldn't go because of money, well, I had to help."

"But why me?" Anne asked him. 

"You deserved it. And, well, maybe I was selfish."

"Selfish?"

He took a deep breath. "Maybe because I knew I was also going to Toronto. And maybe I wanted you there, too."

Anne didn't know at all how to respond to that. Her mind raced, replaying every moment they shared over the last few years. How her benefactor happened to know her birthday, when Gilbert had bumped into her at her own birthday party. How her benefactor didn't come to her graduation, when Gilbert was graduating himself. They even lived on the same street. Of course Gilbert was her benefactor. It made sense. 

"Why did you agree to meet now? Why not before?"

Gilbert exhaled loudly. "You don't know how many times I almost told you, or how many letters I started to draft but threw away before I could. I didn't know if I should be Mr. Smith telling you I'm Gilbert, or if I should be Gilbert telling you I'm Mr. Smith."

"Mr. Smith doesn't exist," she said. 

That made Gilbert go quiet. "I suppose he's not," he said finally. "Are you terribly mad at me?"

Anne sighed. "You lied to me and betrayed my trust for four years. I don't know how I could ever forget that."

"And yet?"

"And yet..." Anne was surprised to feel a smile forming and at last she laughed. "It's you, it's really you."

Hope or something like it bloomed on Gilbert's face. He grabbed her hand.

Anne told him, "You never answered my question."

Gilbert took a shaky breath. "Because," he said, "When I read your last letter, I realized you needed to know everything before I did this."

"Did what?" she asked, but she knew he was already leaning in. 

Gilbert kissed Anne, and while Anne had imagined her first kiss much more chaste, she put all of the emotions she felt into it. When they pulled back, Gilbert had a goofy grin adoring his mouth that she was sure matched her own. 

"Anne," he said urgently. "I love you."

"I'd tell you the same," she said, "but something tells me you already know."

~

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED 

TO THE WEDDING OF 

ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

and

GILBERT BLYTHE

Saturday, October 4, 1904

3 o’clock in the afternoon

At the St. Andrew’s Church

Toronto, Ontario

Reception to follow.

 / fin

[lollercakesff]

Happiest Place

PT 3 / 3

For @katia-dreamer - here's the last instalment of your secret Santa gift! I hope you've enjoyed it and it brought a little light to your day. Have a wonderful day!

We eat our way around the mock globe of Epcot, tasting everything we can fit in our bellies from the Holiday Feast and then relaxing under the hot sun as Diana, Bash and Mary test out all of the virtual reality rides that are available to them. By the time evening rolls around on our fourth day in the parks I find myself content, the growing camaraderie I feel with Gilbert and the Lacroix’s something I hadn’t expected from this trip. I know Diana feels it too - her friendship with Mary having bolstered over the sweet Dellie she dotes on like her own kin. 

By the time the weekend arrives, I'm ready to take a break and relish the idea of a vacation for a few hours by the pool. It’s not hard to convince the others and we order in take-out and eat and drink in the hot sun. 

“Did you want to go check out one of the resorts and get dinner with me tonight?” Gilbert asks as we walk back together from the lobby, our hands full of food from the cafeteria. 

“That would be cool. I’m assuming Bash wants to go to Sebastian’s at the Caribbean resort?” 

“Oh, I mean, maybe he does. But I was thinking just, um. The two of us, if you wanted,” he adds hastily as I stop and look up towards him. My mouth hangs open as he slows and turns to look at me, his smile hesitant. 

“Like - one on one?” I sputter, disbelief in my voice. Was he asking me on a date? In Disneyworld of all places? 

“Well, kinda yeah. Just the two of us. I thought maybe - It’s okay if not, I just - “ 

“No. I mean. Yes. I mean - that’s not clear at all. Yes. I’ll go to dinner with you,” I blurt and feel my cheeks heat, my feet starting to carry me forward with a clipped pace as we near the pool. 

The afternoon rushes by and when I tell Diana about the dinner back in our room she nearly collapses from excitement on my behalf. 

“Oh, Anne! If my Jerry were to have met me in Disneyworld I think we would already be married! This is so romantic! You absolutely must choose somewhere amazing - I’m going to start looking now!” She squeals and drops onto the bed. 

Two hours later and I’m brushing my hair frantically back from my face, trying to contain it as I ready for a night out. Diana has taken to assuring me - repeatedly - that she is dying for a night where she doesn’t have to do anything, her feet already propped up as she reclines in her bed. 

“Have fun. Make good choices,” she bids as I open the door to Gilbert’s knock. He looks fresh and bright, his eyes sparkling in the low light of the evening as he bids goodnight to Diana. 

“Where are we going?” I ask as we head past the pool and towards the lobby. Where I expect to head towards the buses, we instead veer towards the front entrance where Gilbert steers me into an Uber. 

“It’s a surprise,” he says as the driver leaves the round-about. We drive for almost ten minutes before turning into the Wilderness Resort, the treeline becoming dense as we head by campsites decorated with lights and beyond little cabins adorned with bows and puffs of smoke rising from the chimneys. 

Pulling up outside of a brightly lit restaurant that’s designed like a frontier-style western eatery dropped in a snow globe, I glance at Gilbert as he smiles wider and pulls open the door. Inside the waiter takes our names and settles us onto a bench with 20 other guests wearing their holiday best, all seats facing towards a stage with bright red curtains fluttering in the breeze. 

“What is this place?” I ask over the crowd’s noise, my senses trying to take in every detail, every delicious smell and sight. 

“Well what do we have here Otis?” A voice calls out around us before there’s a crash and a puff of smoke from the stage. 

“It’s dinner and a show. A Hoop-de-doo Musical Review,” he adds and I can’t help the laugh that escapes me, the idea so preposterous and yet so amazingly delightful that I couldn’t even have thought it up myself. 

The show is spectacular and the food delicious, my spirit running high as we finish our third drink and start heading out for the rest of the evening. To say the night was magical was an understatement. It had been amazing. Gilbert had been the perfect gentleman, funny and kind, smart and generous. Though I’d offered to go dutch, he wouldn’t hear of it, sneaking off to the till and paying before the check could even be brought to our table. 

When it was time to head home we crawl off of the benches with our bellies full, our cheeks red from the liquor and the laughter that had kept us occupied for hours. 

“What a show,” I sigh as we walk along the dirt road, heading in some direction that I’m not sure which. Not that it matters. I don’t want tonight to end. 

“It was pretty good. I’d hoped for something decent but that so much more then just time well spent. Good food, good entertainment, exceptional company…” He trails off and I spare a look towards him, enjoying the view of his profile in the moonlight. “What do you say we take the boat across to Magic Kingdom? We could probably catch the fireworks from the ferry, if we’re lucky...” 

I don’t hesitate to follow him across the road and down the pathways towards the water, willing to follow him anywhere he was ready to lead me. I couldn’t help but think about how quickly I was falling, how easy it all seemed to be in his presence and the way we fell into sync with one another once I gave him a chance to not be the bane of my existence. 

Gilbert Blythe had snuck up on me and now that he was here I didn’t want to let him go. Maybe it was the ease of life here, or the magic of everything surrounding us, but when we step onto the ferry and lean over the front rail to watch the castle light up in the distance I can’t help but lean into his side and relish the feel of him next to me. When the first firework cracks across the sky I turn to him and catch his gaze already on me, his fingers lifting up to brush the loose hair back from my face. 

He leans in first, hesitating a breath away from my lips, before I exhale and tug him towards me for a kiss that nearly knocks us overboard. 

--------

All of us spend the last few days together, revisiting our favourite places and getting as many Fastpasses as we can manage in the few hours we have left in the parks. It’s easy to be with Diana and the Lacroix’s, even easier to be with Gilbert whose light demeanor and quick-wittedness make the days seem brighter than they do at home. 

On our last night in the park it’s simple to get lost in the magic of everything, our minds spinning as we eat as much as we can and ride all of the rides just to feel the glow of happiness seep into our bones. 

“Are you ready for the fireworks?” Diana asks as we spill off of Space Mountain for the last time. 

“More than ready! Though the fireworks also mean it’s time to go home and I’m markedly not ready for that!” I answer and spin my friend around as we walk up the ramps. It was our last ride with just the two of us, our plans to meet up with Gil and company meaning these were the final moments we could soak in this trip together. “Did I tell you yet how happy I was that you came up with this idea, dearest Di?” 

“Only a few times,” she replies, slowing to link our arms together. “Did I mention how excited I am for you after this week? I know it’s not why you came here but it’s a lovely turn of events, wouldn’t you say?” Her words make me pause, the realization that going home also meant leaving the cocoon of Gilbert too. 

We hadn’t really talked about any of this. How could we have? It was only a blur of a week with so much to do and so much excitement and wonder and beauty there was no way I could have thought about returning to reality. But we’d have to, tomorrow, and I didn’t want to. 

“Oh, Di… It’s been such a bittersweet week. I’ve just met him only to say goodbye already. It was such a thrilling time and yet it’s over so soon!” I exclaim as she leads me towards the main entryway. 

“Well, yes, goodbyes will be had, but surely they don’t mean forever? You can keep in touch!” 

“I know, but it won’t be the same,” I lament as she sighs and pulls me closer. 

“Nothing back home is ever the same as Disney, darling. That’s why they call it the happiest place on earth - because the real world can’t hold you back here. But what they don’t talk about is that you can take the memories with you and create a new piece of happiness for yourself back home made just from them. Even if it doesn’t work out, you still have the memories you made and that’s what counts.” 

“When did you grow so wise?” 

“Right about the time you came into my life, I presume. Made all the difference,” she adds as we slowly come upon the group. I pull her in for a tight hug, holding my best friend close as I try to remember this moment in my mind. 

“How was space?” Gilbert asks as I lean against the railing and into his side. His arm comes around my hips and I pull his hand tighter, not wanting him to let go. 

“It was fine but I’m happier here just like this,” I admit and look up at him with a cheshire grin. 

“Me too. Hey - I was thinking, since you like writing and all, why don’t we try being pen pals when we get home? Would you be interested in trying that?” He questions just above a whisper, his breath tickling the side of my ear. 

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Gil,” I murmur and shift closer to him so his arm crosses my chest. 

Bound against him, I look up at the sky as the first burst of light shines overhead, the castle's Christmas lights flickering and shifting to display a story of hope, friendship, happiness and love. It seems fitting to end the week here, with new friends and new dreams. A nearly missed flight had lead to this moment and I couldn’t have timed it better. Magic had been spun around us all and whatever came next was bound to be another great adventure that we could face together. 

[gilbertsannegirl]

The Scientist

Merry Christmas to @rootedbutfl0wing! Sorry it’s a couple of days late, but I really hope you do enjoy it! Hope your Christmas was wonderful, and it was a lot of fun getting to know you a little bit :) And thank you @kindredspiritssecretsanta (@royalcordelia) for once again hosting this wonderful event! Once again, cannot wait till next year x

Read it on AO3 / fanfiction.net

2019 Fic

2018 Fic

Summary: Based on The Scientist by Coldplay, which I thought kind of fitted Anne and Gilbert a lot (have a listen if you’ve never heard it before! It’s a beautiful song). Major moments of their relationship from Gilbert’s point of view, along with missing scenes and an AU ending, definitely enemies to friends to lovers. Hope you enjoy!

Come up to meet you; Tell you I’m sorry; You don’t know how lovely you are

 Red. He saw it, red hair. Never was there another colour like it. Gilbert slowly turned in his seat to see a scraggly, freckled girl seated next to Diana Barry. Who was this girl? The sun glinted steadily through the window onto that hair that had drawn his eye in the first place. Why it’s as red as carrots, he thought, continuing to do nothing but stare at the girl who he had never seen in his life. She glanced his way, to which he winked at her, smiling smugly that she’d looked.

After a muttered word to Diana, the girl gazed out the window and, at least what Gilbert began to believe, blatantly ignored him. Feeling the need to see those grey-green eyes look his way once more, he began to rack his brain for ideas. Carrots…

“Carrots,” he hissed softly while tugging gently on the red hair he’d already grown so fond of, “Carrots.”

She whirled around in horror, her eyes flashing a delicious shade of green. “How dare you!” she screamed, and the next Gilbert knew was she’d gone and smashed something over his head. Was that a slate? Either way he found himself apologising profusely to Mr. Phillips who’d rushed to the scene.

Ann Shirley has a very bad temper. Ann Shirley must learn to control her temper. * Was written on the board, and the girl grimly marched to the board placing an ‘e’ at the end of each Ann. Anne Shirley. What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Anne stood seething under that sign for the rest of the afternoon, glaring every now and then at the boy who started it all.

At the end of the day Gilbert waited behind for Anne to leave after her lecture from Mr. Phillips. Intercepting her at the door, he glanced into her eyes, “I'm awfully sorry I made fun of your hair, Anne," he whispered contritely. "Honest I am. Don't be mad for keeps, now." *

The lovely girl with the golden, red hair snubbed her nose, and marched away with Diana at her side. Despite this, he grinned dumbly. She’s simply lovely, he thought his eyes following her down the road as she made her way towards what he assumed to be her home.

 I had to find you; Tell you I need you; Tell you I set you apart

 With the mayflowers in hand, Gilbert set off towards Patty’s Place, smiling sweetly at what could come of this particular visit. He found Anne in the orchard her head buried in a book, and he smiled slightly at her usual Anne-ness.

Handing her the Mayflowers, he carefully told her of his plans for the summer: staying in Kingsport to work at the Daily News Office. Gilbert watched as her face fell, hoping this was as good of time as any to ask her the question he had yearning in the back of his mind ever since that fateful day he called her carrots. She quickly composed herself however, and before she could make any more excuse to leave to pick violets, he said, “Things can't go on like this any longer. Anne, I love you. You know I do. I - I can't tell you how much. Will you promise me that someday you'll be my wife?” **

Anne quickly turned away shaking her head. Gil’s face fell immediately. Perhaps he was deceiving himself all along. Had she really never loved him? What about at Echo Lodge? Surely there was something in her eyes then. She begged for his forgiveness, and he gently, in person and heart, let go of her hand.

“There isn't anything to forgive. There have been times when I thought you did care. I've deceived myself, that's all. Goodbye, Anne.” ** And as he walked away that day, malice entered his heart. He must never think of Anne Shirley again.

 Tell me your secrets; And ask me your questions; Oh, let’s go back to the start

 Gilbert sat, his work sprawled across his desk as he ran his hands carefully through his curls. Biting his lip, he thought carefully about what was bothering him so. It has been a year, a year to the dot. His eyes glistened with tears once more as he remembered the terrified look on Anne’s face as he told her of his love for her. Oh, how he regretted it now. Shaking his head, he recalled their beautiful friendship, dwelling on the secrets that she had lovingly entrusted him with.

“Gil,” Anne said, a little melancholic after a particularly deep conversation between the two of them, “Could I tell you something? Something I’ve never told anyone else?”

He looked at her curiously, “Not even to Marilla or Diana?” At the shake of her head, he swallowed carefully, “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Well, I never really thought of it till now. Do you really think anyone could love me? I mean romantically? I’m afraid that I’ve not grown up surrounded by love that I don’t know what I’m looking for. Marilla and Diana, they think me foolish with my fantastic ideals of love. But when I was about 5 or 6, I was living with a family who’d hired me as a work hand – to look after the children, you see. I remember their eldest son was much older than their youngest children. He was about 15 or 16. He wrote poetry and was melancholic. He was the only one in that household that ever paid any attention to me and snuck me food when no one was looking. I didn’t love him romantically of course, I was only 6, but I feel that’s where this all sprouted from in the end. Don’t you think it’s strange that these memories come back to us so many years later?”

Gilbert had stopped their walking a while back. He looked deep into her eyes and whispered, “Anne…”

Anne cleared her throat at the intimacy in his voice, and Gilbert immediately thought himself an idiot for letting such intimacy come about in this private moment, “Um, I should… go. I’ll see you later Gilbert.”

Thinking back to this moment now, just a few weeks before they went to Redmond, he knew how idiotic it was to ask for her hand. He wasn’t the brooding hero she had longed for her whole life – he was plain old Gilbert Blythe, ex-best friend of the most remarkable woman to walk the earth. Yes, she was…

 Nobody said it was easy; It’s such a shame for us to part; Nobody said it was easy; No one ever said it would be this hard; Oh, take me back to the start

 Gilbert saw the radiant girl – no, woman – waltz into the newly decorated hall on the arm of Royal Gardner. Her figure was dressed in an apple green with a low scooped neckline, and her ruddy tresses were laced with small snowdrops. She’s simply beyond beautiful tonight, and you can’t have her. He sighed, lacing his fingers with his ruddy curls, and pacing near the wide window that showed the snow covered land. His best friend – ex-best friend, he scoffed – was on the arm of another man and if the whispering around him was true, she would continue to be on his arm forever.

He felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and he swung around to see Christine Stuart with a small smile gracing her lips. “Gilbert, are you ready for our dance? The band is set up now.” In the short while of pacing, the room had come to life. Women and men dressed to the nines, chatter erupting and creating an atmosphere of warmth. He nodded and grabbed her hand, placing it in the crook of his arm as they meandered to the dance floor.

They twirled and swayed slowly to the tune that was being softly played. Violins, piano, and flutes all filling his head with sweet song. Not as sweet as Anne, the thought rudely interrupted. He shook his head, gracing a glance at the couple dancing not two feet away from him and his partner. And I guess that is the man who will sit and read her Tennyson by firelight. Yes, but you would do that for her too…

“Gilbert, is everything alright?” He quickly looked up and then down, realising that he had stopped their slow dance and there were people hurrying to avoid crashing into them. “You’re awfully pale. Did you want to sit down for a spell, or perhaps get some air?”

“Um, yes please. I just need to be alone for a little while. Will you be alright? I’ll be back by the next dance.” Christine opened her mouth, but Gilbert had already started walking away continuing his pedantic running of fingers through his hair. Oh, why did you ask her to marry you anyway. You ruined everything; she could still be on your arm as a friend – best friend – not on the arm of that Royal guy. He gasped in the cold air and his hardened heart frosted over as the rivers seeped from his eyes.

 I was just guessing at numbers and figures; Pulling your puzzles apart; Questions of science, science, and progress; Do not speak as loud as my heart

 Every day Gilbert placed one foot in front of the other to pull himself out of bed, through the door and into the gates of Redmond to face his studies, and it was paying off. Another year without Anne; another year of topping every class. It was the easiest distraction from the rushing thoughts and escorting Christine around to various social gatherings. Pouring into schoolwork was always something he had enjoyed, but especially now when it was the only thing in his life that he could fully control. Especially when flashes of red hair and green eyes invaded his dreams every night. Especially when he couldn’t have her.

 Tell me you love me; Come back and haunt me; Oh, and I rush to the start; Running in circles, chasing our tails; Coming back as we are

 It hadn’t been so long ago that they were walking through Hester Gray’s garden – she was picking flowers and he was desperately trying to see more in their friendship. Days often turned to dusk while they were together. And oh, they could talk, or rather Anne could. In every memory he had of her, there were glimpses of moments that he had misconstrued as love. Fleeting touches – of course they were by accident – meaningful glances – Miss Lavender’s wedding, I think she did love me then, perhaps for a moment.

Anne was still very much on the arm of Royal Gardner at every social gathering, while Christine Stuart was on his own arm. The distractions of schoolwork and being up for the Cooper prevented Gilbert from taking in much of the gossip that surrounded the couples. In the back of his mind, he knew what they were saying. Gilbert to wed Christine and Royal to wed Anne. He knew the gossip around his love life was not true, Christine was engaged to another man and he didn’t think of her in that way. But Anne… All of those rumours could very well be true. Where would that leave him?

“Gilbert!” No… it couldn’t be her. “Gil!” And just like that her red hair was staring him in the face.

“Anne?”

“Yes, of course. Gilbert, I just wanted to congratulate you. It seems we are both on the honours list, I’ve just come from the dean’s office. Here,” she shoved a piece of paper into his hands, “see for yourself. It’s all so exciting!”

And in that moment Gilbert allowed himself back to those friendship days of Lover’s Lane, the Dryad’s Bubble, the Lake of Shining Waters, and imagined what it would be like to be with her in those places now. She continued to chatter but stopped when he suddenly gathered her into his arms. “Thank you, Carrots.” And he walked away, leaving her mouth wide open and a few tears gathered on her eyelashes.

 Nobody said it was easy; Oh, it’s such a shame for us to part; Nobody said it was easy; No one ever said it would be so hard; I’m going back to the start

 That moment of the honours list sustained him for some time. She was radiant at convocation in her dress with his flowers. His promise to her all those years ago. If we make it to graduation I’m sending you a bunch of Lilies of the Valley. The Cooper’s Prize was his and Anne had made the honour’s list for English. Well, of course. In the times that he has known her she has been the storyteller, and so honours in English was never a negotiable thing.

The dance began and through the crowd he could see her. She was once again in a shroud of pale green taffeta, his flowers laced through her hair. Everything slowed as they made eye contact with one another. He stumbled towards her, dropping Christine from his arm. As if in a daze, he made his way through the ballroom. But then he saw the haze of her eyes, and the shock in her face as she turned towards the entry of the room. She began to run out into the cool of the early summer night.

In that moment Gilbert knew exactly what he was doing, and yet his knees never stopped knocking, his hands never left his curls. He was going after her. And this time nothing was going to stop him. In the craze of the ballroom, he flung himself around dancing couples and out the door. In the moonlight he saw the pale skin of her throat accentuated by the curls let loose down her back.

“Anne!” She stopped her dazed walk but did not turn to face him. He quickly caught up to her and placed both hands on her cold shoulders. “Anne-girl, what’s wrong?”

“You did it again.” She murmured, which he barely caught through the howling wind.

“What?”

“You call me Anne-girl, you send me gifts, flowers, you never break your promises. And yet you look at me in the same way you always have, even after I broke your heart. Gil? How can you still look at me that way? I’ve never deserved it Gil… I’ve never…” It broke his heart more to have this precious girl crying in his arms over unspoken words, glances, and touches. But he did speak his heart over two years ago in that orchard. Could it be that she’s changed her mind? “And now, you’re going to marry Christine and it’s all my fault that I never understood… I never understood…”

“Anne-girl,” he said in reverence, “is that what this is about?” She pulled her head off his chest to look into his kind, hazel eyes, and he reached up to wipe away her tears. “I’m not engaged to marry Christine. It’s all silly rumours, one’s which I never paid much attention to anyway. You see… I have a dream. I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it , a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends – and you!” ***

And there was once again that moment in which Anne looked at him like he thought he must look at her and he knew there was no separating them again.

 *Anne of Green Gables Chapter XV

**Anne of the Island Chapter XX

***Anne of the Island Chapter XLI

[kindredspiritssecretsanta]

AOGG/AWAE Secret Santa 2020

Can you believe it’s almost the Holiday season again? 🎄❄️ That means it’s time for our annual fandom wide event: Kindred Spirit Secret Santa! If you’ve done this before or this is your first time, all the information you’ll need is right below! 

What is it?

The Secret Santa exchange is a nice way to meet other people in the fandom, spread the holiday spirit, and share all our lovely creations with everyone. 

How does it work?

Once you sign up, you’ll receive an ask/message with the name of the person you’ll be making a gift for. During November and December, send the person anonymous asks to get to know them and find out what they’d like for Christmas! Then, during the week of 12/25 (the 20rd through the 26th), you’ll reveal your identity and post their present. For examples, feel free to peruse the blog and see last year’s presents.

How do I sign up?

Between 11/14/20 and 12/10/20, fill out this google form. I’ll take care of the rest. Sign ups will end December 12th, but if you still want to participate, feel free to contact me to see if that’s possible! We can probably work something out!

Can I participate with my sideblog?

Absolutely, please just indicate that in your google form.

What sorts of things can I give my giftee?

Photo edits/manips

Gifsets

Fanfiction  

Headcanons

A playlist

Reviews of their own work

Fan art

Video edits

Anything you can think of, really! Just be sure to ask them their preferences for ships, etc.

Can I make more than one gift?

Yes, of course! However, don’t feel obligated to. Whatever you make should come from the heart, but it should also not be a burden on you.

What happens if I need to drop out early?

Life happens, espeically during 2020! However, I’d ask that you please contact me ASAP! I want to make sure that your giftee gets taken care of and has something coming for them on Christmas. I’d rather you admit that you forgot, than be completely unaware that someone didn’t get a present. 

Other rules

If you’re joining with us from Twitter, you’ll need to make a tumblr account so you can receive anonymous messages. However, you can still post your present on any platform you choose (and in fact, you should!)

Don’t tell the person that you’re their santa! That ruins the fun!

All gifts you make should be posted to your own blog and include the tag #AnneSecretSanta (Because KindredSpiritsSecretSanta is kinda long)! That way I’ll be able to reblog them.

Make sure you tag your giftee in the post as well. It also doesn’t hurt to send it to them.

Please make sure your askbox is open to anoymous messages before signing up. (🎅🎅🎅 <- extra Santa’s for emphasis!!)

If you change your username, please let me know!

Under most circumstances, please do not tag your ask messages with the main tags (Anne of Green Gables, awae, Shirbert, etc). The exception would be unless they are directly relevant. We don’t want to flood the tags.

Please contact me (I’m Tessa! You can get ahold of me on this blog or @royalcordelia​) with any further questions you may have! 

[arriettvs]

secret santa gift for @elderofavonlea! Here’s a shirbert flower shop au featuring a very smitten Gilbert - hope you like it and happy holidays!!

@kindredspiritssecretsanta

[elderofavonlea]

Just Say Goodnight

New fic posted on AO3 as a secret santa gift for @annesadventure! I hope you enjoy the college angst! Additional chapters coming soon! Happy Holidays!! :) 

Summary: Anne is pretty satisfied with her life. Living it up as a college student in New York City with her steady boyfriend Roy on one arm and her loyal roommate and best friend Diana on the other, Anne thinks she's got it pretty good. That is, until she meets a handsome premedical student who begins to make her think about the possibility of more..

@kindredspiritssecretsanta

[storyastorya]

merry christmas, kindred spirit @seawolvesanddragons! super excited to finally give you my little gift... your fave gangsters and duos! this was my first ever attempt at any kind of fan art so i really hope you like it. from the bottom of my heart, wishing you and your loved ones a happy holiday! potato light bulbs forever!

(also tagging @kindredspiritssecretsanta, thanks for giving our beloved fandom the opportunity to share the christmas love! wishing you a lovely holiday season as well!)

[royalcordelia]

Secret Santa Sign Ups are Open!

Hop over to @kindredspiritssecretsanta for more info!!

[tippy152]

Hiiiii! I'm going to be your "secret santa" for this hectic year and the kindredspiritssecretsanta program ! I'm so excited and I hope you're having a greaaaat day! I have a few questions for u. How did you get into the awae/aogg fandom? Do you read fanfics from this fandoms? WHo do you ship or dO yOu NoT sHiP aNyOnE? I think the original ships are BeAuTiFuL! I'll leave you with a quote, "kindred spirits are not so scarce as i used to think"

Hellooo! How exciting!! I am having a great day, thank you for asking!

Shirbert is what got me into AWAE. Seeing gifs of their relationship got me curious about the show, then when I saw it was on Netflix I was sold. I fell in love with the show from the first episode and binged all 3 seasons over one weekend.

I just started reading some Shirbert fanfic and it's glorious! The only fanfic trope I'm not really a fan of for this fandom so far is Modern AUs (which there seems to be a lot of).

Obviously I ship Shirbert, lol. I have so many fic ideas I want to explore with these two but next to no free time to actually do it. Also Marilla x John Blythe - I wish we could have gotten a scene between them as adults before he died.

Thanks for the ask! I hope you have a lovely day 😁😁😁

[kselavie]

🔔🎁 Merry Christmas @antspaul !!! 🎁🔔  

[mrs-shirley-cuthbert-blythe]

hi! awae secret santa back again. hope you are having a good day! I am having so much fun putting this lil gift together for you. what is your favorite thing about anne and gilbert's relationship?

I looooove that they are both intellectually equal! I mean c’mon what other nerds compare to these two?! Um none🥰

I also love their devotion to each other and the encouragement they give each other.

[lollercakesff]

This is WONDERFUL AND I LOVE IT/YOU! Thank you my dear, what a wonderful gift to get today!

happy holidays @lollercakesff !!! I wrote you a fic! I hope you enjoy it ~ and have a wonderful holiday season! 

I am posting the fic here, as well as on ao3, as it’s a little long (~10k). 

charity (who is helping who?) 

Summary: AU in which Anne is a little more poor but just as vivacious while Gilbert is a lot more wealthy and a little more cowardly. 

Based somewhat loosely on the book Daddy Long Legs, written in 1912 by Jean Webster. There’s a movie with Fred Astaire and a wonderful musical based on the book. I always thought that Jerusha, the main character, was very reminiscent of Anne. The title comes from the song “Charity” from the musical. 

Keep reading

[lollercakesff]

Happiest Place

Pt 1 of 3 - Not Friends for @katia-dreamer​

“Miss! Miss, your scarf!” A voice calls out from behind me, twisting me around on my feet and nearly sending me toppling over as the man’s frame crashes into me. I gasp and not just from the impact, my tongue frozen in my mouth as I look up at hazel eyes, a rampant head of dark hair and a jaw that’s angled just - “You dropped this, I think,” he says, interrupting my train of thought. I sputter, wildly trying to form sentences as my face reddens to match my hair, hands tightening on where I've gripped his lapels. 

“Anne - we’re going to miss our plane!” Diana Barry calls from behind me, the shot of panic jolting through me as I remember why I'd been running in the first place. A departing plane, final boarding call, once-in-a-lifetime trip. 

“Thanks! Bye!” I squeak, releasing his coat before stepping back and almost tripping over my carry-on. 

“No problem, Anne - ?” He attempts and I nod because it’s all I can do as I look up at him and his cocksure grin. “Not even going to give me a name then?” 

“Anne!” Diana calls more insistently, her sandals clapping against the cement floor as she approaches at a quick clip. 

“Sorry - I’m late,” I respond and turn to face my friend, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “Sorry Diana, I dropped my…” I swallow thickly as I look back at my empty hands, my hasty departure making me forget why I’d even stopped in the first place. 

“Missing something, Carrots?” He chides, holding out my scarf. The nickname makes my shackles rise and I grab for the fabric, yanking it out of his hand and spinning on my heel to sprint towards the gate. 

-----------

“Anne, I love you but my feet are about ready to fall off. Can we go back and have a siesta at the pool now?” Diana groans, looking towards me pleadingly. 

“Yes. We will. I just want to ride the Little Mermaid ride one more - “ 

“Anne, please. It will be here the rest of the week! We’ve been here for almost six hours! Let’s go back, relax, enjoy the afternoon and then we’ll come back for the fireworks!” Diana insists and grabs my arm to pull us up short. I sigh, looking at the bridge towards Fantasyland and then the castle to my left. 

We had five days to spend at Disneyworld and I didn’t want to miss a thing but Diana was right. We’d been walking for hours and though I’d never admit it, my feet hurt too and I could definitely use a few hours away from the crowds and strollers that seemed to multiply like they were under a spell. It was just… The magic was entrancing and I was hooked, never wanting to leave this place. 

“Pool. Drinks. Fireworks,” Diana urges, breaking me from my revery. 

“Alright. Pool. Drinks. Fireworks. Lead the way, dearest Di,” I relent, motioning down Main Street and letting Diana drag me out of the front gates of the park and towards the bus corrales. 

Back at the resort I find myself lathering on the sunscreen, pulling on a sunshirt to hide my pale, freckled skin from the sun I'm about to cook myself under. I couldn’t wait - back home it was winter and though it was beautiful with the snow on the branches and the twinkle of the light at night, there was something about sleeping in the sun that made my soul feel healed and light. 

Down by the pool’s edge, I set my things on a chaise and follow Diana into the water. We talk about nothing and everything all at once, exclaiming about the first day in the park and the wonder that had poured out of us as we walked up Main Street to see the castle and the magic for that first time. 

“And the food! Diana, I have never had anything as delightfully scrumptious as those tater tots with the blue cheese. It was otherworldly,” I say with a sigh, drifting back in the water and looking up at the sky overhead. I was content. Utterly, impossibly content. 

“To think, it’s only day one,” Diana affirms as she floats nearby. 

We slip into a comfortable silence as we move around the pool, swimming for a few hours before climbing out and laying in the hot sun. 

“Carrots, is that you?” The familiar voice says from overhead, causing me to crack an eye open as I look up at the shadow blocking my light. His curls in the sun give him away and I groan, flipping my book up to turn my attention back to the pages. “What? Not even going to say hello?” 

“I’m not talking to you,” I reply, looking towards where Diana is standing at the bar ordering drinks and unable to save me from this awkward moment. 

“Alright then. I just thought it would be interesting to note how Providential it seems to be finding you here, but if you’re not interested, I’ll leave you be.” 

The man from the airport stands above me for another drawn out moment before sighing and turning to head back to his side of the pool. I watch him go out of the corner of my eye, finally exhaling as he settles down beside a man and a toddler who he must be travelling with. 

“Who was that?” Diana says as she sets down a drink beside me, eyes bright and brows lifted in question. 

“The guy who found my scarf at the airport, I think,” I lament, reaching for the drink as Diana eyes me suspiciously. I was going to need the alcohol if we were going to have to share a resort for the whole week, that I was pretty sure of.

[gilbertsannegirl]

She Had Dreamed Some Brilliant Dreams During the Past Winter

Merry Christmas to @anne-shirley-blythe! Sorry it’s late but I had a lot of fun writing this fic for you and I hope that you thoroughly enjoy it. Hope you had a wonderful christmas x And thank you @kindredspiritssecretsanta (@royalcordelia) for throwing such a wonderful event and can’t wait for next year to roll around again.

Read it on AO3

Last Years Fic

Summary: An AU story set in their second year of college, my take on Anne and Gilbert’s engagement. This particular story is set a year after my Christmas story last year, so it makes more sense if you read that once first, but you don’t have to.

-

Crisp snow crunched under Gilbert Blythe’s boots and broke the silence of the early morning. The earth was still at rest and the sun had begun to peak over the blanket of white that covered every surface of the ground. Having fallen during the night, the snow was almost unbroken by sleds or feet. However, there was a sure path from the Blythe’s front porch all the way to the gate of Green Gables where the culprit now stood. In the gloom of the morning, Gilbert could just make out the window of the east gable that belonged to his beloved. In the act of a supposed grand gesture, he located a few small pebbles peaking out from under the snow and carefully threw them at Anne’s window.

 A rustle of curtains revealed her. Still clad in her nightwear, she gestured for him to stay right where he was, and Gilbert couldn’t help the sly grin and chuckle that escaped as soon as he saw her.

 “It is so very Anne of her to go along with my ridiculousness, isn’t it?” he murmured, facing away from the window now and looking out on the expanse of the white world in front of him. In the gloom of the dawn Gilbert could see the lights of various farmers’ homes begin to flicker into existence. Although not the most ideal weather, he still loved crisp winter mornings such as these. Tomorrow would bring Christmas and hopefully a new season of his life.

 The door to Green Gables creeped open, and despite Anne’s best efforts a quiet screech from the worn hinges echoed through the silence. Gilbert turned to see her step out of the house. She was wrapped in a scarf and winter coat and was pulling gloves on as she slunk across the porch. He thought she had never looked more beautiful with the red glow of the morning light painting shadows across her face, highlighting freckles and tendrils of hair peaking out from under her hat.

 “Gilbert Blythe,” she hissed. “What do you think you are doing sneaking around at this hour in the morning? Rachel will have my head if she knows I’ve come out to see you so early.” She sighed then, tipping her head up to feel the early sunlight crawl under the exposed skin of her face, the warmth flooding her cheeks. “Oh, but it is so good to see you. When did you get back?” She stepped closer, bringing her arms up to wrap around his neck, fingers playing with the curls at the back of his head.

 Gilbert wrapped his arms around her waist. “Well, Miss. Shirley, I think Mrs. Lynde knows by now that you are not fully to blame for everything that happens between us. Considering that I am the one who took us for a picnic in the snow last year, which was probably not the best idea.” Anne grinned at that, and he continued, “You know, I rather like these early mornings, they bring out the green in your eyes.” She hummed, and he took the opportunity of a deserted world to press his lips against hers briefly. “And to answer your question, I came back last night and was dying to see you.” She sighed and pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Gilbert reciprocated.

 The creaky step broke their embrace, and both spun to see Davy rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. “Gee Gilbert I sure bet Anne is glad to see you,” he yawned. “But isn’t it awful early to be going out?” They smiled politely at him and both saw the young man Davy was growing to be since the summer of their last visit. He was standing much taller now and was beginning to take on most of the duties around the farm with the help of Mr. Harrison.

 “Right you are, Davy-boy. But you see, Anne and I need to get over to Carmody to do some shopping for my mother’s Christmas Eve dinner which you know you are all invited to. Besides, it can be a bit tricky on these roads and you never know when you can run into some trouble with the sleigh. We best be leaving and you best be starting to work around here I suppose. We won’t keep you, just let the others know that I’ve whisked Anne away this morning, will you?” Gilbert grinned at Davy’s curt nod, “Thank you.”

 “Thank you Davy, we’ll be back before lunch,” Anne finished. With a wave, Gilbert and Anne went to the stables to hitch up the sleigh. She grabbed the blankets while he checked to see if everything was in order with the sleigh and they weren’t in danger of anything breaking on them. Gilbert nodded at Anne and they both climbed in, carefully arranging and draping blankets over themselves. He winked at her as he slid one hand under the blanket to grasp hers, and she laughed, “Gilbert, don’t you need both hands to drive the sleigh?”

 “On the contrary, Anne-girl, I think I can do it with one hand if it means I can hold yours,” he replied smugly, and leaned forward to plant a kiss on her cheek. She beamed at him as he clicked the reins and the horse plodded forwards leaving behind the stables for the open plains of Avonlea. “Oh, I also have a few planned stops along the way. I figured you wouldn’t mind coming out early to spend some time together before we have to return to be with our families. I think we rather deserve it after the beginning of the school year we’ve had, considering that I’ve only just come back from finishing my examinations.”

 “Don’t you think we spend enough time together already, Gil? I can hardly deter you from Patty’s Place as it is,” she teased. He chuckled, rolling his eyes in fondness and she tucked herself more into his side. There was a certain air between them that had always existed, although Anne hardly saw it until a year ago with that picnic in the snow. A teasing relationship filled with mutual respect for each other’s wisdom, wit and character. She realised after the kiss under the mistletoe last year that they had always been and forever would be kindred spirits, soulmates, life partners, and best friends.

 The sleigh came to a halt and Anne looked out of the sleigh, her eyes landing on Barry’s Pond or, as she had named it, the Lake of Shining Waters. At this time of year, however, there wasn’t much lake left because of the glistening ice that lay firm over the water’s surface. She glanced back at Gilbert and saw his eyes shifting over her as if he was memorising everything about her. She raised her eyebrows. Shaking his head and shifting his eyes back to hers, he murmured, “Do you remember the time that I asked you to be my friend by the waters edge?” He chuckled then, “You were so petty, considering that I had just saved your life.” Grinning as Anne gave him a playful slap on the arm, “Ouch! A feisty one too; matches your hair, Carrots.”

 “Oh, you really thought I would forgive you after everything you did, Mr. Blythe? I hardly thought you were worthy of redemption; it was only later that I regretted everything I said to you that day. You really went and ignored me after that? I don’t think that helped the situation at all, dearest.” Gilbert gave a sigh at that, and Anne dropped her red head into the crook of his neck. He felt her lips move before hearing the words, “I love you, and I love you all the more for forgiving me after the fool I made of myself in the first five years of knowing each other.”

 “I love you too, Anne-girl. I’ve loved you since the day you broke that slate over my head, and I’ll love you until our journey comes to an end,” Gilbert replied, kissing her hair.

 “Oh Gil! How did I ever tell Marilla that you weren’t my idea of a romantic suitor when you are the most romantic person I know?” Anne grinned, pulling her head out of his neck. Gilbert beamed leaning forward to place a soft, slow kiss on her lips.

 “Come now, don’t get all sentimental on me yet. I still have one more place to take you before Carmody and it seems the sun is only getting higher in the sky, my love.” Gilbert started the horses on a trot again and Anne hummed as she watched the trees overcrowd the image of her beloved lake. Being whisked around Avonlea by Gilbert on a cold winters day wasn’t unusual, but Anne wished they would go somewhere warm soon. The cold air was bringing out an unflattering flush to her cheeks, highlighting her freckles and hair. This was both to Anne’s annoyance and Gilbert’s pleasure.

 It was to her slight dismay when he slowed to a stop outside the group of trees she knew so well. It was certainly not warm in there, but then again she had missed the Dryad’s Bubble immensely during her semester at Redmond. She side-eyed Gilbert who possessed a smug grin, before saying, “Oh, so this has become our Christmas Eve spot? Alright then Gilbert, but I don’t really want to walk all the way in there. It’s snowed a lot more this year and I’m not sure that we can make it in.”

 “Not to worry, Anne-girl.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him before replying, “I was just going to sit out here and reminisce on last year. Do you remember what I gave you for Christmas?”

 Anne beamed. “How could I forget? Darling, I wear it every day, you know that.” She fished under her coat for the delicate necklace, the small pink heart glistened against her palm as she looked down at it. “Oh, it’s the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received, besides you of course.”

 It was Gilbert’s turn to blush, and before he could talk himself out of it he whispered, “Well I have a far greater gift for you this year. How would you like another piece of jewellery, my love?” Anne’s brows furrowed and she pulled back from him a little, dropping the pendant back against her throat. “The promise that comes along with this though is far more precious and it would mean the world if you say yes.”

 “Gil… Do you mean…?” Anne’s eyes began to well up and Gilbert pulled out a circlet of peals, a ring she had dreamed about for years, “Gilbert Blythe, are you really asking me this?” A tear slid down her cheek and Gilbert quickly brought his thumb up to catch it.

 “Yes, my dear Anne-girl. I’m asking you this, and I mean it with all my heart. I don’t want anything more in this life than you! We’ve been officially courting for a year, but I think I’ve been courting you since the first time I laid eyes on you. I think 9 years is long enough to make a man wait, don’t you?” Anne laughed, her throat choking on the sound. “So, my lovely Anne, will you marry me?”

 “Oh, darling you don’t need to ask twice! Yes, with all my heart, yes!” Anne flung her arms around him now crying openly against his neck, the pearls he bought suiting the saying pearls are for tears in that very moment. She pulled back from the embrace placing her hands on either side of his face, her thumbs running under his eyes to catch his wayward tears. She brought her lips to his in an unhurried kiss.

 Gilbert pulled away first. “Anne I’ll put this ring on your finger on one condition.” Her eyes met his, glistening with the unshed tears she was somewhat holding back and nodded her head at him. “We get married as soon as possible. I know that we still have two years of college left, and then I have three years of medical school, God willing. But Anne-girl promise me we’ll get married as soon as we can afford to, because I don’t think I can wait five more years to wake up to your face every morning.”

 “Gil, even if our families think we are crazy, as soon as we finish our Arts degrees, I am marrying you. I promise you every day of my life from this point onwards. Oh Gil, I love you so!” Anne flung her arms back around his neck and Gilbert gasped at her boldness but wrapped his arms around her waist all the same. He pushed her away a little bit and grabbed her hand, sliding the snug ring into place, and Anne knew it had always belonged there. No questions asked, they would be married in two and a half years.

 Gilbert directed the sleigh towards Carmody, and they rode away together, crowned king and queen in the bridal realm of love, along winding paths fringed with the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed, and over haunted meadows where winds of hope and memory blew.*

 *Anne of the Island, Chapter 41 Love Take Up the Glass of Time

[kindredspiritssecretsanta]

AOGG + Anne With an E // Secret Santa Sign Ups

What is it?

The Secret Santa exchange is a nice way to meet other people in the fandom, spread the holiday spirit, and share all our lovely creations with everyone.

How does it work?

Once you sign up, you’ll receive an ask/message with the name of the person you’ll be making a gift for. During November and December, send the person anonymous asks to get to know them and find out what they’d like for Christmas! Then, during the week of the 25th (the 22rd through the 28th), you’ll reveal your identity and post their present. 

How do I sign up?

Between 11/2/19 and 11/30/19, fill out this google form. I’ll take care of the rest. Sign ups with end December 1st, but if you still want to participate, feel free to contact me to see if that’s possible! We can probably work something out! 

Can I participate with my sideblog?

Absolutely, please just indicate that in your google form.

What sorts of things can I give my giftee?

Photo edits/manips

Gifsets

Fanfiction  

Headcanons

A playlist

Reviews of their own work

Fan art

Video edits

Anything you can think of, really! Just be sure to ask them their preferences for ships, etc.

Can I make more than one gift?

Yes, of course! However, don’t feel obligated to. Whatever you make should come from the heart, but it should also not be a burden on you.

What happens if I need to drop out early?

Life happens! However, I’d ask that you please contact me ASAP! I want to make sure that your giftee gets taken care of and has something coming for them on Christmas. I’d rather you admit that you forgot, than be unaware that someone didn’t get a present.

Other rules

Don’t tell the person that you’re their santa! That ruins the fun!

All gifts you make should be posted to your own blog and include the tag #AnneSecretSanta (Because KindredSpiritsSecretSanta is kinda long)! That way I’ll be able to reblog them.

Make sure you tag your giftee in the post as well. It also doesn’t hurt to send it to them.

Please make sure your askbox is open to anoymous messages before signing up.

If you change your username, please let me know!

Under most circumstances, please do not tag your ask messages with the main tags (Anne of Green Gables, Anne with an E, Shirbert, etc). The exception would be unless they are directly relevant. We don’t want to flood the tags.

Please contact me (on this blog or @royalcordelia​) with any further questions you may have!