#packs gilbert blythe

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish - Part 12

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

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

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

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2700 (SO LONG)

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Coward," Murtagh whispered to Jamie.

"Damn right," he chuckled back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So off you go," Angus finished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Blythe," you muttered directly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lass," Ned sent a warning your way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smirk, "Murtagh paid me."

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

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

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

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

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

“Smart man,” you say to him.

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

You see Dougal getting ready to do your speech, “I should be getting out of here and up to my room. I shouldn’t be down here when,” you stopped to look at Dougal, “Well good night.”

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered back.

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

[budgiesunset]

Advice || Reader x Gilbert Blythe.

Requested by: Anonymous

•Summary• When YN sees Gilbert getting closer with Anne YN assumes the worst breaking up with Gilbert and Leaving.

•Warning’s• Angst, fluff, happy ending, not proof read, bad grammar, Arguing parents, sort of dumb reader, overthinking

You where lying on your bed deciding on what to do next.

When you saw Gilbert and Anne talking you just wanted to crawl up into a ball and disappear.

It was no secret that Anne had feelings for Gilbert but you didn’t think that she would try and take him.

If you had to be honest you where scared Anne was beautiful, smart and wasn’t scared to speak her mind.

while you on the other hand where shy and had gotten use to being forgotten about that was until Gilbert had taken an interest in you and you started going out together and he would walk you home.

He had helped bring you out of your shell.

So after seeing him interact with Anne you knew what you had to do so you left your room walking down stairs putting on your coat, beanie, scarf, gloves and slipping on your shoes.

When you arrived at Gilbert’s house you where terrified to do this but after taking a deep breath you approach the door and knocked.

���Y/n. What are you doing here? Is everything ok?” He asked.

“We can’t see each other anymore Gilbert.” You said looking him in the eyes.

“What are you talking about Y/n… did something happen?” Gilbert asked trying to see if you were joking about that and didn’t truly mean it.

“Gilbert you don’t have to pretend I saw you and Anne today. I wish you two every happiness I really do… Goodbye Gilbert Blythe.” You said turning away and walking off. Before he could explain.

You knocked on the door of the Cuthbert’s home. “Oh hello Y/N what a pleasant surprise, Anne is in the barn working if you’re looking for her.” Ms Cuthbert said once she opened the door.

“Thank you” you said quickly before walking towards the barn.

“Y/N.. what are you doing here? Is everything alright?” Anne said seeing you walking into the barn with red puffy eyes.

“I broke up with Gilbert” You said looking down.

“WHAT? WHY? What happened?” She asked dropping the pitchfork and walking closer to you.

“Why do you sound upset. I saw you both this morning.. so I broke up with him so you could be together. I hope you both are happy- excuse me I have to head home.” You say turning around and running off.

When you arrived home you where greeted with your parents arguing but once the noticed your presence they told you to pack a suitcase because you would be staying with your grandparents in Charlotte Town for a couple days.

Once you finished packing you walked back downstairs being met by your parents yet again arguing before ushering you into the carriage joining you after a couple of minutes.

•••

Gilbert knew he screwed up the moment you said you saw him with Anne. But since you left before he could explain he didn’t get to tell you that he was just asking for advice on how to be a better boyfriend.

But it really started to sink in when he saw Anne and Diana walking towards his house.

“Gilbert we have a massive problem!” Anne said as Gilbert opened the door the two girls pushing past him. “After Y/N was at my house saying that she saw you and me talking she told me that we could be together and then apparently Diana saw the Y/L/N’s getting in to a carriage and heading towards the train station with suitcases… Don’t you realize we must have upset Y/N so bad that now she’s leaving Avonlea!” Anne blurted out

“ANNE! Calm down they wouldn’t just leave Avonlea ok.” Diana said in an attempt to calm down her friend.

“Wait… What do you mean you saw them leaving?” He said sinking into his chair feeling his stomach drop as if it fell into a bottomless pit.

“We have to do something. We have to-“ she was cut off by Gilbert getting up.

“I just remembered I have stuff I have to do.. umm- I will see you guys on Monday.” He said pushing the girls out the door before shutting it on them. He turned his back to the door before sliding down the cold wood. Warm tears slid down his cheeks his breathing picked up and he slowly got up and walked towards his bed lying down shoving his face into his pillow.

•••

The next morning it was Saturday and he woke up extra early quickly changing his clothes and grabbing his coat and hat as he rushed at the front door and headed towards the train station.

when he arrived he got on the first train to Charlotte Town. Remembering you saw that your grandparents live there and you normally stay with them after your parents had huge fights. He even visited you a couple months ago so he remembered the way particularly well.

When he arrived at the house he knocked on the door to be greeted by a maid. “Hello can I help?” She asked looking curiously at the boy who stood on the steps.

“Umm.. Yes, I’m looking for Y/F/N.. is she here?” He said looking up at the old woman.

“And who should I say is calling?” The maid asked.

Knowing you probably won’t answer if he said his name He said “a friend.” The maid nodded before closing the door and walking off.

When you opened the door you were surprised to see Gilbert “Gilbert?.. what are you doing here?” You asked ready to slam the door in his face.

“Y/N you never let me explain. I was asking Anne for advice on a date that I had planned and needed an opinion on from one of you friends” he said taking you hands in his and rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

“w-what?” You croaked out.

“I would never cheat on you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He said looking deep in to your Y/E/C eyes.

You pulled him into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist while resting his chin on the top of your head placing a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you Gilbert Blythe”

“I love you too Y/F/N”

••••• AN: hey I know I said I would write this like two weeks ago but I have had serious writers block followed by several anxiety filled days and then it’s week I has the honor of having tonsillitis for the 4th time in a span of 2 years so that was fun. But anyway I hope you liked this. Love you guys❤️

[jomiddlemarch]

And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds

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

It was a lie.

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

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

He simply didn’t want to go home.

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

And agony and yet, a surcease.

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

So many broken hearts. None he could fix.

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

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

Impossible.

Real.

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

Not Dad. Not Gil dear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A nurse then,” Gilbert said.

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

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

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

It happened. People died young.

Ruby Gillis.

Kenneth West.

Captain Jim’s lost Margaret.

Walter Blythe.

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

“Marigold needs a light hand,” Gilbert said. 

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

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Cuz We Are Living in a Canadian World, and I am a Canadian Girl

This was not my first copy of the classic Canadian book about girlhood. It also wasn't my second, which got lost in a move, and it wasn't my third, which...crap, I have no idea what happened to it, but it is the copy that is currently on my bookshelf. I was given my first copy at age nine or so, sitting in my maternal grandfather's living room in Ontario. That side of the family was and still is absolutely obsessed with the Anne books. They talk about Gilbert Blythe the way 2000s girls talk about Edward Cullen and Jacob Black. I'm pretty sure I have heard my cousins use the phrase "I found my Gilbert" in relation to their significant others. Then of course we moved to Alaska and I was on my own to find the rest of the Anne books. But for today, let's talk Anne of Green Gables.

Everyone's favorite PEI orphan is an extremely well-known character at this point, between the books themselves and a myriad of film and television adaptations aimed at kids and adults. Anne studies and Girlhood Studies are pretty popular in Canadian higher ed institutions (I have a friend who was focusing on Anne for her graduate studies), and the idea of this redheaded girl who can see the magic in the world has been sticky since LM Montgomery published in 1908.

Aside from Anne seeing the magic in the world--which, wow do we need that vibe back in this, the year of our lord 2023--one of my favorite things about the first book in the series is that it has massive found family vibes and does not shy away from the importance and joy of female friendships. Like, for all the Anne and Gilbert vibes in popular culture, Anne and Gilbert don't become Anne and Gilbert until the end of book 3 of the series, arguably realistically book 4, and their relationship matures and expands in book 5. But in Anne of Green Gables, Gilbert is just an annoying boy who transforms into an academic rival after Anne sets a hard boundary by way of a slate to the head.

What's critical about this first book is that the key relationships Anne forms are with Diana, Marilla, and Matthew. She gets to be a girl and have fun and adventures with her new family, her best friend, and a pack of Avonlea girls. There is something so pure and comfortable and heartwarming about the community that Anne builds around herself. This is extra poignant when one grows up with this book and grows to understand the full context from which Anne comes. Marilla understands immediately that Anne's light was miraculous for continuing to shine despite the neglectful, possibly abusive situations she came from--even if Marilla then immediately clamps down on that feeling for another few chapters.

Anne gets to be a girl with friends and free time and a family that loves her. There is something quietly magical about that, and I think that has quite a lot to do with the book's ongoing popularity, even if the popular culture imagining of Anne has drifted some over the years. For all that Anne herself sees a world full of dryads, white ways of delight, and romance, the quiet joys of Avonlea life and an Avonlea childhood is the foundation for Anne's imagination to fly.

[abigailspinach]

From the comment section

I feel like Mr. Carpenter spent 80% of his teaching time on complicated classroom projects so that he wouldn't get caught making this face all the time.

Also if you thought you were going to read treacly stories about fairies and dew and ended up reading a cutting profile of your personality as written by a Madaline Bassetesque 11 year old, wouldn't you be delighted too?

I am indebted to the Emily series for the idea that writing two good sentences in a pile of drivel is progress.

Teddy's not much to write home about, but I accept that Emily loved him. And one thing I much preferred about Emily over Anne, was that she admitted to herself all along that she was in love with Teddy, rather than being all oh I hate Gilbert I hate Gilbert I hate Gilbert ok Gilbert is not so bad but I will toy with Roy's affections until I admit that I am in love with Gilbert and want to live in a house-of-dreams and have 27 babies.

Okay. I'm now worried because I adored Dean Priest and would cheerfully have seen the ghastly Teddy poison himself with his own paint.

Also acceptable: Emily/Ilse/Perry.

EMILY IS THE BEST. HATERS DOWN THE WELL.

I mean, who's that woman who comes to stay with the Blythes and is a jerk and doesn't leave for months in "Anne of Ingleside"? Emily would have given her the Murray look and sent her packing.

On the other hand, it would be super easy to know what to get her for her birthday.

NOTEBOOKS. Piles and piles of notebooks. She would be enraptured.

[stitchkiss]

tagged by @thiamsxbitch and @raekensarcher tag game? me ?? aww i love u both

Rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to Ao3. (Sort by date posted.) If you have less than 10 fics posted, post what you have.

i only have 5 fics posted (but im working on more!!!)

the struggle of dating a teenage boy when you’re also a teenage boy but aren’t addicted to fucking call of duty, an exposé by theo raeken (thiam)

Theo sighed for what felt like the thousandth time today.

Liam didn’t notice the edge of annoyance that Theo made sure to put into his sigh. He hasn’t noticed any time before, but why would he start now? Liam’s been glued in front of his TV for the better part of—Theo checks the time—six fucking hours now, not bothering to pay a lick of attention to Theo, who’s been laying on the beta’s bed the entire time, bored out of his goddamn mind.

i see the stars in your eyes and i realize (thian)

Theo thinks he can hear the stars.

He doesn’t tell Liam, preferring to avoid the risk of the other boy doing something ridiculous like agreeing with Theo. Everyone’s been doing that lately; agreeing with Theo. He supposes he brought it upon himself, having spent years plotting and scheming and thinking, something the McCall pack can’t seem to do without their brightest members. Both who hightailed it to the other side of the country, looking for greener pastures than the clusterfuck that is Beacon Hills, California.

we're in love (and we're going to make it everyone's problem) (caswen)

“Okay, stop, stop, STOP!” Miss Jenn’s frustrated cry was enough to make everyone in the rehearsal room freeze in their places.

Carlos hurries to her side and mutters quickly under his breath while sneaking glances at the two boys in front of him. They didn’t notice of course because they were too busy furiously glaring one another other down in a silent war. The East High Drama Club suffocated in tension the two radiated as it blanketed over the room. Miss Jenn sighs.

pony (caswen)

Theater kid meet ups were a usual thing after the musical, obviously. They weren’t going to stop hanging out just because there wasn’t a production to keep them busy and together, and really, they had made some great friendships that fall. Sure, it was tense at first, but the teens valued friendship far more than petty rivalries and less than ideal relationship drama.

Living On A High Wire (anne x winnie)

Winifred Rose had a truly splendid time at the fair. Avonlea was a beautiful town and its inhabitants fit the mold perfectly. It reminded her of a puzzle, but she was the wrong piece for the game board of Avonlea. Her place was somewhere else.

She had fun with her family and with Gilbert and meeting everyone he knew. The entire day was a fresh breath of air Winnie so desperately needed. There was just one problem.

She did not want Gilbert Blythe to court her.

tagging everyone! i feel like everyone's been tagged already lol

[packsclass]

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[gresstuff]

LUCAS JADE ZUMANN. 🐝🍃🌻 icons

•please, like / reblog or ©itxndehui

follow me and put my notifics on for more

[itsgranger]

— anne with an E messy headers

like or reblog if you save

[accholt]

anne with an E header

[jomiddlemarch]

I wish you'd write a fic where all the characters from Shadow and Bone were in the Anne of Green Gables universe. I'd love to see where you would fit them all in. ♥️

Alec Morrow, commonly known as Old Elijah Morrow’s boy, had not expected to get the White Sands school, but there had been some mix-up with the Avonlea folk he couldn’t quite follow, probably because it had involved a liberal quantity of the sour raspberry cordial Mrs. Vincent Pye made every August and insisted was just as good as Marilla Cuthbert’s, which no one agreed with but didn’t bother disputing; the sun would sooner come up in the West than you could get a Pye to admit even the slightest flaw. In any case, Alec had been looking further afield for employment, resigning himself to living in a boarding house, back home at Gregory Place only during the summer when he could find enough work as a farmhand to keep his mother and sister, when the letter arrived offering him the position, seemingly a miracle. He didn’t spare a moment before penning a quick reply of acceptance, packing up his worn carpet-bag with his best suit, the heavy wool jersey Ursula had knitted him the previous winter, and the book of metaphysical poetry that he’d used his book prize money to buy, much to his mother’s displeasure.

It had been miracle enough until he’d been faced with Caspar Breakwater and Jesse Fane, wily Vaughan Corner, the three boys making enough trouble it took a week of his most stern expression and the threat of the threat of being switched to allow the littlest ones a chance to master the alphabet. He found he could count on laconic Matthew Ellery more than he’d expected and red-cheeked Nina Harte not at all, though she was kind and would always share her lunch with any student who’d arrived with only an apple or slice of bread. Zoe Lennon fancied herself queen of the senior class, quite fond of tossing her head and showing her dark curls to advantage, though it didn’t escape Alec’s notice both that she was an exceptionally gifted student of mathematics and blushed whenever Nicholas King glanced her way. It didn’t escape Inez Grafton’s notice either, but she was a quiet girl with her hair in a crown of braids, her collar and cuffs always neatly buttoned, and her recognition was contained to a twinkle in her eyes Alec as the teacher must pretend not to see. John Knight was a rough-hewn, sullen boy who came to school only when his father could spare him, but cheerful Teddy Stone took the other boy under his wing and somehow managed to make him smile, usually when their heads were bent together over Teddy’s slate; Alec knew Teddy drew caricatures of all his classmates but he’d earnestly assured Alec he’d never draw one of the teacher, much to Alec’s secret disappointment.

All in all, the White Sands school was a lot of work, but work Alec had the strength of mind and will to master. He studied alone in the evenings, determined to be granted admission to Queen’s and then Redmond, even if it was harder for someone without a partner, as he’d heard Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe had in each other, both the talk of the shore villages. Alec Morrow was a shadow in comparison to their brightness, but he didn’t mind. He couldn’t, when he couldn’t change it and couldn’t waste the energy in what his mother would call “Alec’s horrid black sulks” over the solitary nature of his existence, the loneliness of having no friend nor peer of his own.

It was that way until the day he found Alina Stark, the slight orphan Mrs. Anne Cooper, his parsimonious boardinghouse keeper, had taken on a hired girl to help in the kitchen and with any other chore she could think of, poring over his book of poetry. He’d it left open on the little table he used as a desk, a gull’s feather used as a marker. Alina’s lips moved as she read but other than that she was entirely still, the day’s waning sunshine lending its little warm color to her wan cheeks and drab pinafore, the wisps of hair coming free from her long plait. It was that way until he saw the way the startled fear in her dark eyes changed to pleading and then wonder when he started reciting the poem she’d been reading. It was that way until he’d offered her lessons of her own when she said she’d never be able to attend the school and when he’d handed her the bigger piece of shortbread he’d bought to share. And when his fingers had briefly touched her own and there had been the most tremendous flare of light between then, within them, the poem they’d been reading brought to life and something more, as the glow stayed between them, even after he’d closed the cover of the book and she’d smiled at him with something more than gratitude, an affectionate tenderness that woke an answering emotion in his own heart, a feeling he’d never known before but somehow recognized entirely.

[slythvrinedits]

lucas jade zumann as gilbert blythe icons

— like/reblog if you save.

— do not re-use and claim as your own.

— credit to @slythfeeling on twitter.

[colorinbw]

anne with an e layouts

[womaninwonderland]

— Anne with an E headers

Like/reblog if you use them. // Like/reblog si los usas

[milsedits]

♡ if u save

[packsclass]

c: @middleagedicons @twtarchive @marvicons @cadavruicons @latedits @1989stuffs

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