Okay, so I’m loving Anne with an E a ton anyways, but Gilbert, y’all. THIS Gilbert Blythe is showing boys how loving a girl is done, son!
1) We already know all these school kids think Anne is an “ugly orphan.” But then Mr. I’ve-got-popularity-privilege Blythe is all, “she’s cute and you are all nimrods.”
2) His reaction to her poetry reading in class. Everybody else is either laughing or mortified, but Gilbert gets her. He sees past the dramatics to see she is really into her poetry and f*cking loves it.
3) He went too far with the whole hair-pull and carrots thing so she straight-up bitch-slapped him with her slate. How does he react? He f*cking smiles! He genuinely looks impressed at her actions. Not offended in the slightest, and probably realized he deserved it.
4) He admires her in the middle of competing against her in the spelling bee. He loves her intelligence y’all!
5) Other boys: You’ve gotta show that ugly orphan that she’s not smart. Gilbert:
6) Literally the first time he sees her after her weird “I would make a terrible wife” comment he’s like straight up overwhelmed with feels. Like her just being her isn’t weird at all to him.
7) He comes back after months abroad. She just had to cut her hair. Everyone else is laughing, but he doesn’t say a damn thing about her hair. Ever. Not even to another person on-screen. And he’s still all heart-eyes for her.
8) The way he says “oh yeah” in this scene. It’s like he genuinely forgets how often people misunderstand her–hence her need to apologize a lot.
Whoever had the bright idea of putting Indiana Jones in a leather jacket and a fedora in the jungle ought to be dragged into the street and shot. – Harrison Ford
In this biography of Charlotte Brontë, it’s noted that Anne Brontë may have been involved romantically (or at least, a little bit in love with) her father’s beautiful young curate, William Weightman. I thought ‘How handsome can a nerdy little man circa. 1840s Northern England be’ until I saw this sketch of him, probably drawn from life by Charlotte. This beauty is wasted on Methodist clergy!
Perhaps we
courtiers are not unlike you courtesans. Our lives, like yours, are a constant
game of sham. Do
you ever long to break from that pretense? If
I broke free and spoke my heart, the sea would bubble, the sky would turn red,
and London would tumble into dust. I
should like to witness that.
abbys_little_whippersnapper 