Dang It This Couldve Been My Grad Quote

dang it this could’ve been my grad quote

“I shall go on shining as a brilliantly meaningless figure in a meaningless world.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

I FINISHED IT AND WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THAT

I’m halfway through shutter island and I-

Writers will want to write a story but will high key loathe the process and it’s the same with me having fun taking pictures but will genuinely loathe the editing proces after<3333

not me deciding for my future for about two days but contemplating to buy a book for about one month

The line: “Tom, I’m literally a five minute walk away!” really encapsulate Tommy Shelby as a person because he’s dramatic af

hi! i absolutely love your blog 💕 i was wondering if you could do an request where lil shelby sister has a habit of collecting flowers and pressing them and perhaps she has moved out of the house and tommy/pol has found a big book of pressed flowers from places and it brings back memories of when she was little. i know it’s confusing but if you could do it that was amazing 💕 thank you ily 😁

“Be careful!” You exclaimed as John and Arthur nearly dropped the painting they were carrying down the stairs. “I actually like that, believe it or not.”

John rolled his eyes. “You have so much stuff,” he moaned.

“Most of it is your old crap that you’ve given to me,” you replied, following them down the stairs. “That should be all of it, however.”

“You sure?” Arthur asked, setting the painting down against the wall and letting out a heavy sigh.

You nodded, biting your lip as you mentally counted the boxes in the foyer. “Yeah, twenty boxes.”

“Most of them books,” John muttered, yelping when you punched his arm.

“Stop it, you two,” Arthur said, moving you away from John. “John, start putting the boxes in the van.”

“I-“

“Just, do it,” Arthur told him, glaring at his brother until he grumbled and plodded over to the boxes.

John continued to mumble under his breath as he picked up several boxes and began carrying them out to the van parked on the driveway.

“I’m really proud of you,” Arthur said, pulling you in for a hug. “It’s a big deal moving into your own place.”

“I’m stuck with Finn and Isaiah, though,” you replied, resting your head on his chest.

“I’d rather them than anyone else, love,” Arthur told you, “at least they know how to fire a gun.”

You looked up at him, offended. “I can fire a gun!”

“No, you can’t. Remember when you were aiming for the can and ended up shooting the wall above my head?”

You paused. “Ok, I’m not the perfect shot,” you replied, “but I still know how to fire it. I just can’t aim.”

Arthur just rolled his eyes fondly, kissing your head gently. John came back in just as Tommy and Polly came down the stairs holding the last few boxes they’d been packing.

“I thought we’d gotten it all?” You asked, frowning.

“Some bits from the attic,” Polly replied, handing them to you. “Including some of your old art books.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten those!” You exclaimed, handing the box to John as you opened it, rummaging through the contents. “Ooo, Van Gogh.”

“Y/N, this is actually heavy,” John told you, re-adjusting his grip on the box.

“Sorry, sorry,” You said, letting go of the box, “I’ll come with you.”

You bent down and picked up a lighter box. Arthur followed, carrying the painting, and the three of you left Tommy and Polly in the foyer.

“You ok, Tommy?” Polly asked softly, not missing his misty eyes.

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Tommy sighed as he looked around the foyer filled with boxes. “I hate this.”

Polly smiled softly at her nephew and squeezed his hand. “I know.”

Tommy quickly snapped out of his sombre mood as you waltzed back into the foyer, dodging John’s attempts to trip you up.

“One more trip out and then we’ll be off,” Arthur said, picking up the last remaining boxes. “Sure, you don’t want to come, Tom?”

Tommy nodded. “Y/N won’t want me getting in the way. Besides, there will be enough going on with you three, Isaiah, Finn and Ada there.”

You looked unconvinced but let it slide, grabbing Tommy’s hand and dragging him outside to the van as John and Arthur loaded the last boxes into it.

You all but threw yourself at Tommy, your brother catching you in his arms. “I’ll call you as soon as I can,” you said to him, hugging him tightly, “and I’ll come round for dinner when Grace and Charlie are back from London.”

Tommy gave you a squeeze before letting you go. “Stay safe, ok? Don’t get drunk or anything with Finn or Isaiah and don’t break anything.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “I know, Tom. I promise, I’ll be safe.”

John honked the van’s horn and you kissed Tommy’s cheek, giving your aunt a quick hug before climbing into the van.

Tommy felt his Aunt bring him into a hug as he swallowed down his tears, trying not to cry. He leant into his aunt, allowing himself a moment, before he cleared his throat and straightened up.

“I’ve got work to do,” Tommy said, giving his aunt a rueful smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Polly gave her nephew an unconvinced look as he walked back inside the house, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket.

Tommy stepped inside the foyer and let out a long sigh. He rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a lighter, lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag. With a sigh, Tommy trudged up the stairs and into your old room, checking it was empty before he sent the maids in to clean it.

He let out a long exhale of smoke as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom. It was extremely echoey now that it was void of any furniture and decoration. Yet, somehow, it still smelt of your perfume and the many candles you lit during the evening.

Tommy let out another cloud of smoke as he stepped further into the room, surveying the empty walls and floors. The entire house felt empty without you – it was quiet and lacked a certain spark of life.

Another cloud of smoke left his lips and Tommy walked over to your wardrobe, checking it one last time. He let out an exasperated sigh as he noticed a box full of books at the very back corner of the wardrobe.

“For fuck’s sake,” Tommy muttered, putting his cigarette between his lips as he leant in and pulled it out with a grunt. He dropped it on the floor and began rummaging through the contents to check that it was actually yours.

Tommy sighed as he sat down properly, pulling out one of the many books. All of them were dog – eared and evidently well – loved, but Tommy had no idea what they were.

He flicked through pages quickly, catching a loose page as it fell out. He frowned, realising that it was just an old book from his study that he thought he’d thrown out years ago. But the words were covered by pressed flowers. In fact, each page of every book in the box was covered in old flowers.

“Tommy, what are you doing?” Polly asked, coming into the room.

“Did you know that y/n kept pressed flowers?” Tommy asked, turning to face his aunt. “All of these old books of mine are full of flowers.”

Polly knelt down next to him and picked up a book, flicking through them. “I used to do this when I was younger,” Polly said. “I taught her how to do it but I didn’t think she’d keep it up.”

“She stole all my old books to do this,” Tommy chuckled, “I thought I’d thrown them all out.”

Polly shook her head fondly. “That girl and her books.”

Tommy turned a page and paused slightly, running a finger over the flower pressed to the page. “That’s from Grace’s bouquet,” he said softly, tracing the flower.

Polly smiled at him as she handed him the book she was going through. “I do believe that is from the flowers you gave her for her 18th.”

Tommy didn’t bother to hide the tears glistening in his eyes as he realised that nearly all of the flowers in the books were from the most important events to you. His and Grace’s wedding, John and Esme’s wedding, your 18th, Polly’s birthday and the time John accidentally stabbed you with a knife and apologised with a vase of flowers and chocolate. You’d also managed to nick all of Polly’s old pressed flowers and had put them inside the books too.

“OI! TOMMY!”

You ran into the room, stumbling to a stop when you noticed your aunt and Tommy sitting on the floor. “Oh, you found it, thanks,” you said, oblivious to the tears in your brothers eyes. “I thought John had lost it, I should probably apologise – ah!”

You let out a little shriek as Tommy pulled you down to the floor, wrapping his arms around you a in a tight hug.

“Um, Tom?” You asked, your voice muffled by the hug he’d wrapped you in. “Tommy? You good?”

“I’m just gonna miss you,” Tommy muttered, readjusting his grip around you.

You managed to look up at your brother, frowning. “Tom, I’m literally a five minute walk away!”

Everyone should listen to this fucking masterpiece