#annewithane

Versuche mich selbst zu verstehen.

Ich versuche mich selbst zu verstehen. Drehe mich dabei vermutlich im Kreis. Erneut, Anspannungen in meinem Körper. Ich spüre es, lasse los.

Meine Hündin schnauft neben mir. Unglaublich geduldig und ungeduldig zugleich. Ich weiß, dass auch mir der Spaziergang gut tun wird. Als könnte sie meinte Gedanken lesen, steht sie auf und versucht mich mit ihrem animierenden Blick und Körpersprache davon zu überzeugen, sie zu füttern oder rauszugehen. Sie spürt, dass ich meine Aufmerksamkeit wieder dem Bildschirm zuwende und sie gibt geduldig nach. Sie ist ein wundervolles Wesen. Ein paar Minuten länger schiebe ich sie noch auf die Wartebank bis ich ihr meine Aufmerksamkeit widmen werde.

Meine Küche, mein Bad - etwas Chaos. Einmal Abspülen, einmal Wäsche waschen - meine Leistung für heute. Und das reicht mir schon. Viele Dinge liegen mir viel schwere Bleistücke auf dem Herzen, oder in meinem Herzen. Sie beschweren, lähmen mich und lassen alles langsamer werden. Ich prokrastiniere. Ich kenne Methoden und Pipapo. Trotzdem liege ich in meinem Bett und vertiefe mich in "Anne with an E". Einfacher mich mit ihren Emotionen als meinen eigenen auseinander setzen zu müssen.

Love this Idea! Much love <3

Where the Road Softens

Gilbert Blythe x fem!reader

warnings: Period typical language and setting (1890s), Gental love, slow burn, established relationship (courting), Emotional intimacy, Canon themes of loss and family, Mention of racism, fluff, soft domestic summary: Courting Gilbert Blythe was never loud or hurried. It was letters, careful glances, and the kind of affection that grows quietly. When he brings you, an assured Charlottetown girl, to Avonlea to meet Bash and Delphine, you begin to realize that love does not always ask you to become smaller. Sometimes, it asks you to stay.

Charlottetown had taught you how to walk quickly.

Not because you were impatient, but because the city moved whether you wished it to or not. Carriages rattled along the streets, merchants called out their wares, skirts brushed past one another without apology. You had grown used to it, grown sharp around the edges, some might say. A Charlottetown girl needed to be.

Gilbert Blythe noticed this about you almost immediately.

He noticed it in the way you held yourself when he offered his arm, how you accepted without hesitation, but with a brief, thoughtful glance, as though deciding something important. He noticed it in the way you spoke your mind plainly, without fuss or flirtation, and yet still smiled as though you found the world worth engaging with.

It was this balance that had drawn him in. And now, after months of letters and careful visits, of walks that never strayed too far from propriety and conversations that often did, you were courting.

Not loudly. Not dramatically.

But deliberately.

“You’ll find Avonlea much quieter than Charlottetown,” Gilbert said as the carriage turned onto the country road. “I hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”

You looked out over the fields, the green stretching wide and unbroken. “I think,” you replied, “it may be exactly what I need.”

He smiled, relief softening his shoulders. Gilbert had been anxious about bringing you into this part of his life. Bash and Delphine were not simply friends; they were family, forged through hardship and choice rather than blood. He wanted you to see them not as an obligation, but as a privilege.

When the house finally came into view, Bash was waiting on the porch,  Delphine balanced against his shoulder. She was small, wrapped in a soft blanket, one tiny hand curled into Bash’s shirt. Her dark eyes blinked slowly as she took in the unfamiliar face.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” you said, then softened when you looked at Delphine. “And her.”

Bash’s grin widened. “That’s Delphine. She doesn’t say much yet, but she’s a good judge of character.”

As if on cue, Delphine’s fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt. You reached out instinctively, letting her wrap one small hand around your finger. Bash watched closely and nodded, satisfied.

“So,” Bash said, after introductions were made and tea was poured, “this is the young woman who has my friend writing letters like a schoolboy.”

Gilbert cleared his throat. You laughed, unoffended.

“I’m honored,” you said, meeting Bash’s gaze easily. “Though I assure you, I didn’t realize I was inspiring poetry.” 

The afternoon unfolded gently. You listened more than you spoke at first, absorbing stories of travel and loss, of starting anew in a place that did not always welcome you, of learning what it meant to raise a child without your love. When you did speak, it was with care, not pity, but interest. Looking at Delphine like someone who already understood responsibility.

Gilbert noticed everything.

 You asked Bash about his work, and he didn't miss the way Gilbert watched you, pride quietly blooming in his chest.

Later, when the sun dipped low and the air cooled, Gilbert brought you to see his apple trees.

“I was afraid,” he admitted, voice low, “that this might feel… too small for you.”

You stopped walking and turned to him fully. “Gilbert Blythe,” you said, “I am not frightened of quiet places. Only of feeling unseen.”

He met your gaze then, earnest and steady. “You would never be unseen by me.”

The words were simple. They were not a declaration, not yet. But they were honest, and honesty, you had learned, was the truest form of devotion.

That evening, as Bash pressed leftovers into your hands and clapped Gilbert on the shoulder with knowing warmth, you realized something quietly remarkable.

Charlottetown had taught you how to move.

But Avonlea, with its open skies and chosen family, was teaching you how to stay.

And beside Gilbert Blythe, that felt like its own kind of courage.

It has been years since I actually wrote something for tumbler but I recently saw this and even though it has been forever I thought I would do something again! Sorry to anyone who wanted me to write again.

I wrote the first one when I had just watched Anne with an E for the first time and couldn't take Gilbert out of my head haha. 

Ps. I used your idea, but I didn't really run with the sick Gilbert idea much.

Much love <3

Warning: Jealousy, some angst, fluff, Gilbert is a bit insecure, slight gossip?, not proofread

Y/N had always been a free spirit. Though she was raised alongside Diana due to their mothers' close friendship and shared social standing, Y/N never fit the mold of the typical Avonlea girl. While Diana stuck to etiquette and charm school, Y/N climbed trees, helped with farm work—especially at the Blythe farm—and refused to follow what society deemed "ladylike."

She had grown up learning piano with Diana, yes, but she also lied to her parents about studying with Gilbert just to spend more time helping him out on the farm, particularly when his father grew ill. That part of her life had always made her feel more real, more alive.

So it’s no surprise she was thrilled when Cole returned to school. Like her, he didn't quite agree with the expectations placed on him, though he pushed back more quietly. His sweet nature and shared frustrations made it easy for Y/N to connect with him—and, with her help, Diana soon followed. But Cole’s growing family troubles meant he was in and out of school, and neither Y/N nor Diana could do much. Their families disapproved of the bond forming between them and someone of Cole's lower social standing.

That’s when Anne came into the picture. She and Diana became fast friends while Y/N spent most of her time at the Blythe household, helping Gilbert cope with his father’s illness and catching him up on schoolwork. But once Y/N met Anne, it was as if they’d known each other forever. There was something about Anne that understood her in a way no one else had. Anne's presence was a breath of fresh air amidst the storm swirling through Y/N's life.

When Gilbert’s father passed away and he decided to leave Avonlea in search of something greater, Y/N was heartbroken. But his absence gave her the space to focus on the parts of her life she’d been neglecting—her friendships, her studies, her sense of self. They still wrote to each other, though. At first often. Then slowly, the letters dwindled. As Cole returned to school and Gilbert's locations became harder to track, Y/N began to understand: he was doing what he loved. He might not come back.

Until one day—he did.

In that classroom, when their eyes met again, Y/N felt a rush she hadn't expected. It was the same feeling she’d get reading his letters late at night, the same feeling she pushed away over and over. But she didn’t know what to do with it. Her family never talked about feelings—especially ones like these—so she buried them, just like always. And in doing so, she pushed him away.

Romance had become the talk of the class. Walking home with a boy could start rumors. And that was just more reason to avoid Gilbert—especially when he was suddenly looking for any excuse to be around her again.

Gilbert, of course, was confused. He knew they’d grown apart, but he was trying. He wanted to rebuild the closeness they once shared, but she wouldn’t let him.

Then came the day he spotted her at the bookshop in the city. Without thinking, his feet moved toward her.

“Hey, Y/N. I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, catching his breath as he studied her features.

“Gilbert!” she said, surprised. “I could say the same.”

“I was picking up a few things—getting ready to start the farm up again,” he said with a grin, soaking in the moment of finally talking to her again like old times.

She looked away, clearly searching for an excuse to leave. “Oh. Right… the farm.”

What Gilbert didn’t see was how warm her cheeks had turned, or how her stomach fluttered with that familiar but frustrating feeling.

“What do you have there?” he asked, trying to keep her attention.

“Oh! This? Cole recommended it… it’s a romance,” she said quietly, glancing down at the book.

He caught that. Y/N knew Gilbert wasn’t stupid. She remembered reading in one of her mother’s old etiquette books that a subtle way to show interest was to imply what you were looking for. Was she doing that?

She looked up and saw his face—his cheeks flushed too, but his eyes looked… angry? Annoyed? It was a look she’d only seen on him once or twice before.

“Are you—” she began, but he cut her off.

“I should go. Bash is waiting for me,” he said, almost too quickly.

“Oh. Right…” she mumbled, watching him leave.

What were you thinking? you scolded yourself all the way home. He's Gilbert Blythe. Why would he ever be interested in you? That look he gave you—it had to be rejection, didn’t it?

Meanwhile, Gilbert was going through his own storm. Was she blushing because of Cole? Did she like Cole? Her parents wouldn’t approve… right? And what kind of man recommends a girl a romance novel unless he’s interested?

His head spun with thoughts he couldn’t make sense of—until Bash found him lying awake that night, unable to sleep. After some reluctant talking, Gilbert came to realize what he’d already known deep down: he didn’t just care for Y/N. He was in love with her.

Y/N, on the other hand, wanted to disappear from embarrassment. The idea of even looking Gilbert in the eye made her stomach churn. She had to tell someone. She needed to get it out. So she confided in Cole. Not Diana, not Anne—she didn’t want it to become something bigger than it was.

Cole understood. He didn’t ask too many questions. He just listened. And that comfort drew them even closer. They began spending more time together. Walking home alone a few times. Y/N hated that society turned every boy-girl friendship into something romantic. She wasn’t going to let that limit her anymore.

But of course, the change didn’t go unnoticed. Especially not by Gilbert.

The breaking point came one day after school when a group stayed behind to help clean up. Gilbert was wiping the windows when he saw her—sitting with Cole outside, laughing at something he doubted was even funny. Then, her hair fell slightly out of her bun, and without hesitation, Cole tucked the strand behind her ear.

Gilbert felt sick. He couldn’t take it.

He dropped everything and stormed out of the school, catching Y/N’s attention instantly.

“Gilbert!” she called, noticing the pain on his face. He didn’t even look back.

She turned to Cole.

“Go after him,” he said.

“Me?” she asked, stunned.

“Yes!” he nodded, encouraging her.

“Okay!” she grabbed her bag and ran.

“Gilbert, wait up!” she called, chasing him down. He didn’t stop.

“Hey! What’s the matter?” she asked, finally reaching for his sleeve, forcing him to turn around.

“Cole is the matter!” he blurted out.

She froze.

“You hate Cole?” she asked, confused.

“No!” he said quickly, then sighed. “You said we couldn’t walk together anymore because it would be improper. But you walked home with Cole yesterday,” he said, the doubt heavy in his voice.

She looked down, caught. “I just thought…”

She paused, too afraid to admit that she pushed him away because she didn’t want just friendship. So she deflected.

“Why does that even matter?” she challenged.

“It matters because I wanted to do that!” he exclaimed.

Her heart stopped. “You wanted to walk me home? I thought—”

“I’ve been trying since I came back, but your eyes have been on Cole,” he said, nervously shoving his hands into his pockets—something only she would notice meant he was anxious.

She let out a shaky breath and gave him a gentle push. “It doesn’t matter if Cole walks me home. I don’t like him like that…” she hesitated. “But you…”

She looked away, her cheeks on fire.

Silence filled the space between them, thick with tension and unspoken feelings—until she felt warm hands on her face, gently guiding her to look up.

“You…?” he asked, eyes locked on hers. “You have feelings for me?”

Gilbert knew it was bold to touch her like this. But he hadn’t felt this close to her in months, and he had to know it was real.

She nodded, and his smile lit up like someone had just handed him his medical license.

She closed her eyes, heart racing, half-thinking—was this it? Were we about to kiss?

But instead, he chuckled and pulled back.

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” he said with a grin so wide it made your knees weak.

She could have melted into the ground from embarrassment.

“Let me walk you home?” he asked, grabbing your bag.

“Yes!” she said a little too quickly. “That would be lovely.”

Gilbert Blythe

Run Away with me

Dating Gilbert Blythe *Headcanon*

Billy Andrews

Marriage of Convenience *Coming Soon*

Jerry Baynard

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