#leafs should start doing this. sorry we dont want to lose to boston again we will just decline the playoffs

[muirneach]

but like could u imagine if other sports had the same finals process as tennis and therefore qualifiers could just chose to like. not go. like the fucking idk lakers or something made it to the playoffs and were like oh no thank you we would rather not

[foolgobi65]

careful man’s careless daughter

@philtstone prompted: Anne/Gilbert babysitter au fake dating prompt #5 let’s go laydees “you have the emotional capacity of a brick. that slate I broke over  your head.” (we’re pretending people still use slates now....american schools have no money...its possible ok) 

k so i was trying to figure out how to work in the babysitter + fake dating and ... like a flash the plot to this old telugu/tamil movie i love missamma/missaimaa came to mind -- its not quite the same because they’re two people pretending to be married so that they can make money as school teachers/live in tutors for a wealthy family’s daughter but it works just enough that i decided to roll with it lol. 

this technically isn’t the actual babysitting, nor the fake dating which I actually turned into a fake marriage lol, but i hope u still like it, even though it is all over the place and a general wreck because i wrote it straight through without any editing or thought towards pacing/characterization bc i havent written in forever lol!! im not even sure what the time period setting is lol, and i dont think my translating of the anne events into a semi modern day even works but w/e lol. 

u are the truest of friends, the light of my life, and have certainly heard more than your share of my mental breakdowns both in the last month and the last few years lol. u deserve all the good things, all the good fic, all the time. 

title is a perversion of a tswift lyric because it came up on youtube. if anyone wants to send in prompts from here

---

“You owe him how much?” 

Anne sighs, crossing her legs to hide how uncomfortable she is in this moment -- here she is in the park, fifteen thousand dollars plus interest in medical debt for Marilla’s eye surgery and being hounded by Roy Gardner, ex boyfriend apparently turned loan shark who was on his knees proclaiming both love and loan forgiveness should Anne just accept his proposal. 

Here Gilbert Blythe is, sitting on a park bench after two years without contact, watching the whole thing. 

“Marilla doesn’t have health insurance,” Anne says, eyes on the ground as she uses the toe of her shoe to grind a leaf into the sidewalk cement. “Even when I was teaching, the union plan didn’t let people add parents on as dependents.” She sighs. “With everything happening with the farm, she couldn’t afford to put money towards a plan and so when her eyes got bad....” 

For a moment, there is silence. Anne can almost hear Gilbert’s jaw clench “That’s just wrong.” 

Anne laughs, and because her eyes are averted she doesn’t see Gilbert flinch. “That’s America, Blythe.” 

“Well,” she hears him say, tone just dripping with what Mrs. Rachel would call the Blythe Stubbornness, “It shouldn’t be.” 

She won’t ever admit it, but there’s something Anne has always found deeply compelling about Gilbert when he gets into these moods -- all righteously indignant in a way that Anne feels inside of her own body. Or felt, before Matthew died and left behind debts not even Marilla had known about, and Marilla’s eyes worsened around the the time Anne was let go from her teaching job and even if she had had the job it wouldn’t have mattered, she knows, but still. Beautiful, wonderful, beloved Diana had offered to help, of course she had, but Anne knew that Fred’s business wasn’t yet where it should be and that the parents Barry were still unimpressed with their son in law to be’s financial acumen. So she’d had to go to Roy, who had of course lent his beautiful Anne the money, and of course had arranged for Marilla to be treated at the best hospital in Toronto, of course had set them up in the apartment of a friend of his right in downtown where the rents were a thousand maybe two per month. He’d popped the question for the third time the second Marilla had been released back into Anne’s care. 

Almost as if he can hear her thoughts, Gilbert speaks -- “Gardner shouldn’t be harassing you like this either. Who ever heard of charging interest on a loan to a friend? And what on earth does he think he’s going to take from you if you just don’t pay?” 

Anne burns. This, she hasn’t told Marilla, nor even her darling Diana. For some reason, it seems alright to tell Gilbert. “The farm,” she mumbles.

Gilbert snorts. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard. Are you saying that Roy Gardner, heir to one of the biggest fortunes in Boston and your ex boyfriend, took your home as collateral on a loan for money you needed to pay for your mother’s surgery?” 

Anne says nothing. She still hasn’t looked up at him, hasn’t been able to meet his gaze since she sat down on the bench and told Roy to get up off his knees and wait two months for either his money or her affirmative answer. She blinks, having mercifully forgotten that Gilbert was present for that last bit. She hopes he’s forgotten too. 

“And wait, before he left you said....” No such luck. “Anne!” Anne’s sure her entire head must be flame as she closes her eyes, bringing her knees up on the park bench and burying her face into her own lap. “Anne you said you’d marry him if you couldn’t get the money!” 

“There’s no debt between spouses,” Anne mumbles. “We’d get to keep the farm, and I wouldn’t ever worry about Marilla’s health again.” 

“But you don’t love him!” She doesn’t know if she’s ever heard Gilbert sound so scandalized. 

“I used to!” she tries to retort, but even Anne knows that her voice betrays her when she tries to speak this lie. “I used to think I was,” she amends, “and maybe that’s as close as I’m allowed to get -- he’s rich, handsome, he even loves me! What more could I ask for?” 

“Coercing you into marriage, demanding interest on money that we all know is just pocket change for someone like him...that’s not love,” Gilbert Blythe responds, with all that....that all-knowing Blytheness in his voice that Anne has hated since she was 13 years old and the new kid in a class of people who had always known each other just as easily as they had known themselves. “Love is selfless, Anne, strong and kind. It makes you better for giving away your heart, even if the one you love doesn’t give you theirs in return.” 

Gilbert Blythe, always acting as if he knows something Anne does not. He speaks as if he’s been in love, at some point over the years since he was last in Avonlea and for some reason Anne absolutely burns with that knowledge. Ooh she just hates him, now at 24 just as easily as she had at 13! 

“And what exactly is love worth if it means I just lose the farm trying to pay for Marilla’s surgery, and still have nothing for the next time she’s sick?” Suddenly Anne is on her feet, hands on her hips as she glares at Gilbert looking quite alarmed as he still sits on the bench. The words she has kept locked on the inside, too private to even be written in a diary, come pouring out in one big rush:

“Three of my four parents are already dead, Gilbert Blythe.” Her voice hitches, to her horror, her sudden fury vanishes as she has to blink away the tears she has kept at bay since she and Marilla buried Matthew. Damn Gilbert, for bringing this out of her as well. “I can’t...I couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.” Her lips thin, and with a breath, her voice steadies. “I don’t care what you, or anyone else thinks about my choices if it means that I can take care of Marilla.” 

Gilbert’s eyes have the sheen of his own tears when he stands, his own lips wobbling just slightly. “I...” he swallows. “Of course, Anne.” Something Anne recognizes as self hatred passes briefly over his face, but she doesn’t understand. “I wish I had money like Gardner to give you, I really do.”   

Anne gentles, even if something inside her twists to be the object of the long-old guilt mixed with pity, much less Gilbert Blythe. Since Matthew’s death, every person in Avonlea it seems has sat with Anne and Marilla and offered their deep condolences, their absolute shock at the pair’s financial state of affairs, how much they wish they could help but sadly cannot, what with the way the bank’s collapse has hit their own finances. Only families like the Gardners survive economic crashes with money to burn. 

“I wouldn’t have taken it even if you had,” she offers instead, shrugging casually. 

His eyes flash. “But you took Gardner’s?” 

“I thought he loved me!” Anne closes her eyes, somehow feeling her cheeks flush even deeper. This is why she’s avoided all mention of Gilbert Blythe so strenuously since high school graduation, because more than anyone else he is the one who drags out the words she is always learning to keep inside. Here he is, somehow pulling confessions Anne hadn’t even dreamed of telling Diana, confessions that make her seem small, and stupid, lost in a world so much more complicated and treacherous than she can handle all on her lonesome. 

Well, she thinks, in for a penny -- 

“I thought he loved me,” she says, “and that he had the money to spare. I didn’t realize...” She looks away again, so that she never has to see him react to her folly. 

“Oh Anne,” Gilbert says, for some reason so soft and stricken that Anne’s knees go weak with her sudden desire to fall to the ground and weep. “You deserve so much better.” 

And now she’s angry again. “What would you know about what I deserve?” Anne spits, “you haven’t even been home since you started med school!” Vaguely, Anne thinks that Gilbert hasn’t been home since she and Roy had gotten serious, serious enough for her to bring him to Green Gables and show him the place that had been her very first love. Coincidences can be so strange. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, glaring again at the ground. “None of this matters. I’m just going to go home” Anne clenches her jaw, knowing that when she gets back to Green Gables she will go into her room and play every excruciating part of this conversation back in her head, again and again until she throws up or passes out at dawn from sheer exhaustion. Maybe both, if she’s lucky. She leans back slightly and manages to turn around on her heels, a trick Gilbert Blythe had always pulled at school and had had girls thinking he was so cool.

She’s five minutes away from the park bench when suddenly she hears him call out her name. 

“Anne,” he shouts again much closer, bending at his waist to balance his hands at his knees as he pants. “God, it really has been two years since I was on the university football team.” 

Despite the roiling emotions of five minutes ago, Anne’s lips quirk. “I can’t imagine you all practiced very much to end up near the bottom of your league every year.” 

Gilbert’s eyes widen, and for some reason he flushes. Maybe he’s so out of shape that it’s from exertion? “I didn’t realize you kept up with my matches.”  Ah. Anne, it seems, will experience nothing else but one long sustained flush as long as she is in front of Gilbert Blythe. “You know,” she tries to say casually, “you hear things here and there. Diana told me the village gossip.” 

Gilbert opens his mouth, but then suddenly shakes his head, like a dog trying to dislodge water from its fur. “I have...” he frowns. “I have a proposition for you.”  Anne raises what she hopes is an elegant eyebrow. “Oh?” 

He grimaces. “There’s a boarding school, a Catholic one, that’s asking for teachers over the summer for a few of their select students who want to be coached for college admissions. Essays, standardized tests, everything. They’ve got heaps of money, and are willing to pay salaries up front. Plus, they cover all your expenses while you’re there!” 

Anne blinks, feeling the beginnings of hope gather as kindling at the very dredges of her heart. Once, both Anne and Gilbert had competed so well against each other that they had both gotten into Harvard. Then, Matthew had died, and Anne decided she could just as easily get a teaching degree at the state school and stay closer to Marilla too. Gilbert alone had had the distinction of being the first from Avonlea to reach such heights, and had reached even higher when he had been accepted again to Harvard Medical School. 

But at one point, both Anne and Gilbert had taken their SATs. They’d both written their application essays. They’d both gotten in. Anne, even, had been offered a full ride compared to Gilbert’s only partial scholarship, so there could even be an argument that of the two, Anne had been the one on top. 

And if nothing else, Anne is even better at teaching than she was at taking tests. 

“I’ll do it,” she says firmly. “Where and when do I need to report, and how much money are they offering?”  For a second, a bright, dazzling grin paints Gilbert’s face. “Really? Ten--” he coughs, “Twenty thousand.” Anne frowns. 

“Each?” It sounds like a dream come true. Five thousand more than Anne needs, and paid upfront. She could save the farm, and put away five thousand towards the farm’s debts. “That sounds....exorbitant.”  He nods, suddenly more confident. “Yep! Twenty thousand for sure.” He laughs. “I know Gardner was supposed to be slumming it at state school, but you really can’t be surprised at how much money rich people are willing to throw at a problem.” 

“The problem being...their children.”  Gilbert’s grin turns wicked. “The problem being their children’s SAT scores, and lack of compelling anecdote to base an admission’s essay on, yes.” 

Anne laughs, wicked in this moment as well. She wishes in this moment, fiercely, as she has many times over the last few years, that she had been able to go to university with Gilbert at her side -- as the friends they had slowly begun to be after years of one and two sided enmity, before time and distance had turned them into near strangers. She doesn’t regret staying back, not really, but there is a part of her that no one had ever understood half as well as Gilbert Blythe, who had, after the Harvard interest meeting, drawn and pinned up a schedule for practice SATs that took into account both his and Anne’s often conflicting life schedules. 

“What’s the catch,” she asks, grinning when Gilbert chokes “come on, Blythe, there’s always a catch with offers like this. Is it across from a waste manufacturing plant? Is the principal a pervert?” 

Slowly, Gilbert Blythe is turning red. “Ah,” he says, shuffling like he never did even when he was an errant schoolboy. “Well,” he says, and....is that his voice cracking? 

“Gilbert,” Anne says, trying to reassure him, “I grew up in the foster system, I can handle much worse than bad smells and pervert principals, I promise.” 

He frowns. “It’s not that,” he says slowly, “but basically they’re looking for two teachers, a man and a woman to manage the boys and the girls while the rest of the staff go on vacation.” 

Anne smiles, trying to ignore the jolt of her heart at the thought of an entire summer with Gilbert, studying like they used to but as friends. Her old dreams, finally coming true. “That’s perfect then, you take one job and I’ll take the other! It’ll be like old times, kind of.” 

He smiles faintly, as if, even after locking horns with the best and brightest at Harvard, Anne is still the person he wants to be trading barbs with over the heads of high school students for months on end. “I’d like nothing better, he says, except...” 

“Except?” 

Gilbert inhales. “ExceptTheSchoolWillOnlyHireAMarriedCoupleSoThatTheyDon’tHaveToWorryAboutOutofWedlockSexorTeachersHavingSexWithStudents.” All in a rush, and now Gilbert is the one who can’t apparently handle eye contact.

“What?” 

“The school,” Gilbert says to his shoes, “since it’s Catholic, and also since they’re lazy, only want a married couple so that they don’t have to have anyone watching to make sure the teachers aren’t having sex with the students. Or each other.” 

Anne blinks. “But we’re not married!” 

Gilbert grimaces, opening his mouth, but then just biting his lip. They could be, Anne thinks, only a tad hysterical. Only all of Avonlea was matching them up all the years of high school, and even the years after until she’d met Roy. It would be so easy to get a certificate. They could get a divorce by September, even annul their marriage since they definitely wouldn’t be having sex. 

Twenty thousand dollars. 

“So what you’re saying,” Anne says slowly, her lip curling of its own accord “is that after all that talk about what love is and isn’t, and telling me that I shouldn’t marry Roy for the money he’d give me, your blockheaded solution is instead, for me to marry you?” 

Gilbert looks up. “Well when you put it that way--”  Anne sees red, even as she already sees herself in one of her old white lace dresses, standing with Gilbert at the courtroom and signing. “Gilbert Blythe I don’t believe you! Sometimes, I think that you really do have all the emotional capacity of that slate I broke over your head!” 

“I know,” he says tone heavy with something so sad that Anne’s hearten softens a bit of its own accord. “But you really need the money, and I promise we’ll get a divorce by September.” He smiles, but there’s something bitter at the corners that Anne has never seen before -- she almost raises her hand to rub the strand of emotion off his lips. “And you’re not the only one who needs the money. Will you do it?” 

Twenty thousand dollars. The farm, Marilla, an end to the eternal pity of Avonlea. And also, a small part of her suggests, an opportunity to finally spend time with this new Gilbert Blythe who went off into the world and left her behind. 

She sighs. “I vote that you be the one to tell Mrs. Lynde.”