whereidont-feelalone

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yes the leg hair thats showing at the bottom of my jeans is part of the look. mind your business.

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no one:

me at 6 years old with a wine glass full of grape juice:

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me going off to one of my 4000 daydream universes after a long stressful day

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pretty sure my soulmate is a bag of sour gummy worms

[whereidont-feelalone]

*panics but in a super chill & casual way*

[whereidont-feelalone]

Fuck everybody but the old lesbian in “Anne with an e” who is out there living her best gay life and organizing her very own gay pride in the early 20th century.

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Okay but I still don’t understand why Mary had to die....

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Anne: *Is explaining her plan for the protest*

Moody: Do you trust her?

Ruby: No, but I trust her anger

Gilbert: SHHH SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO LISTEN

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I don't think we talk enough about how adorable young Marilla and John Blythe were

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"In the twilight Anne sauntered down to the Dryad’s Bubble and saw Gilbert Blythe coming down through the dusky Haunted Wood. She had a sudden realization that Gilbert was a schoolboy no longer. And how manly he looked—the tall, frank-faced fellow, with the clear, straightforward eyes and the broad shoulders. Anne thought Gilbert was a very handsome lad, even though he didn’t look at all like her ideal man."

- Anne of Avonlea, L.M. Montgomery

Come on, Anne. You. Like. Gilbert. Blythe.

[whereidont-feelalone]

"Gilbert stretched himself out on the ferns beside the Bubble and looked approvingly at Anne. If Gilbert had been asked to describe his ideal woman the description would have answered point for point to Anne, even to those seven tiny freckles whose obnoxious presence still continued to vex her soul. Gilbert was as yet little more than a boy; but a boy has his dreams as have others, and in Gilbert’s future there was always a girl with big, limpid gray eyes, and a face as fine and delicate as a flower. He had made up his mind, also, that his future must be worthy of its goddess."

- L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea

OH. MY. GOD. GILBERT. BLYTHE. 💕

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It was like a veil hanging before my inner consciousness was suddenly lifted and I was Elizabeth Bennet dancing with Mr. Darcy.

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Did I do this right

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grandpa Matthew

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All my currently ships, really.

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Me knowing full well about Gilbert's feelings:

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Anne: I’m a snack, but it seems like nobody’s hungry.

Gilbert (whispering to himself): I’m fucking starving.