𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖑 𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖒𝖆

'guys im 14 and all of you who though i was 16-17 are wrong asf.'

You wanna know what happens once you kill yourself? Your mother comes home from work and finds her baby dead and she screams and runs over to you and tries to get you to wake up but you won’t and she keeps screaming and shaking you and her tears are dripping onto your face and your dad hears all the screaming and runs into the room and he can’t even speak because the child that he loved and the child that he watched grow up is gone forever and finally your little sister runs into the room to see what all the fuss is about and she sees you dead. The person she looked up to and loved. The person she bragged about to  her friends, the person she wanted to be just like when she grew up, the person that made her feel safe. But she’s never really going to get to grow up and smile and laugh and love because she’ll always be consumed with this feeling of missing you. And now there’s something missing from your family and they can barely look at each other anymore because everything reminds them of you but you’re gone and hurts more than anything. and you think that your mom never cared because she was always busy and yelling at you to finish your homework and clean your room and forgot to say I love you sometimes but really, she loved you more than anything and she doesn’t leave the house anymore, she can’t even get out of bed and she’s getting thinner and thinner because it’s too hard to eat. Your father had to quit his job and he doesn’t sleep anymore, every time he closes his eyes he sees his baby dead, and the image never goes away no matter how much alcohol he drinks. And at school your best friend sees that your seat is empty and she gets this sick feeling in her stomach and that’s when she hears the announcement. You killed yourself. And suddenly she’s screaming and crying in the middle of class and no one even bothers comforting because they’re all  busy sitting there staring at your empty seat with tears dripping down their cheeks and all she wants is for you to hug her and tell her it’s gonna be okay like you always did, but this time, you’re not there to do it, everything is dark now that you’re gone and her grades are slipping, she barely goes to school anymore and she ended up in hospital after taking too many pills because she wanted to see you again. the girls who used to make fun of the way you dressed feel their throats get tight, they don’t talk to each other anymore, they don’t talk to anyone, they’re all in therapy trying so hard not to blame themselves but nothing works. and your teacher who always gave you a hard time stares blankly at the wall, she quits her job a few days later. And then your boyfriend hears the news and he can’t breathe, he still calls you a lot just to hear your voice and he talks to you on facebook but you never message him back, he can’t fall in love again because every girl he meets reminds him of you, he’s never going to get over you, he loved you and he cries himself to sleep every night, hating himself and slicing his skin because he couldn’t save you and he’s never going to hold you in his arms or hear you laugh again. Now everyone who knew you, whether they were a big part of your life or someone you passed in the hallway a few times a week, they carry this aching feeling around inside them because you’re gone, and they miss you, and they don’t know why you left but it must’ve been their fault and they should’ve stopped you and they should’ve told you they loved you more and that feeling is never going to go away. And so you killed yourself

The narcissist with lots of secrets: Black turtleneck, with a gold coin necklace over top. A tartan mini skirt, or checked trousers. Trench coat. Red lips and dark eyes. Books in languages no-one else understands. Thinks they’re better than you, and probably are.

The messy researcher: Cosy jumpers with shirt collars poking out. Slouchy tartan trousers. Dark socks and oxfords. Old-school messenger bag bursting with various notes and journals. Has started about 30 projects or books in the past week, and hasn’t finished any of them.

The garden party prep: Sweater vests. Pale khaki trousers/chinos, or a traditional white midi dress. Socks pulled up. Boat shoes. Expensive watch. Might play some cricket or croquet later.

The student dreamer: Knit cardigans over knee-length skirts or pinafores. Mary-Janes or ballet flats. Bouncy hair and wide eyes. Sometimes a beret. Likes autumn, and writing long letters.

The aspiring professor: Tweed. Wears suits to class. Coats and blazers waistcoats and undershirts and trousers/skirts, all in tweed or tartan, browns and greys. Kind of intense. Secretly on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but at least they have great notes.

The edgy poet: Oversized, unbuttoned plaid shirts or blazers over turtlenecks. Cigarette trousers. Combat boots. Black coffee. Actually very sentimental, but also might have accidentally killed someone with their classmates.

rory gilmore-danes

the nickname rory was invented so she could pose as a man and be a pirate

rory is canonically good at fencing

storm in her eyes, peace in her smile

as her eyes, she belongs to the ocean

studies a lot of maps and geography

she wants to travel the world and make sure she sees something

knows how to play chess and sometimes play it with the crew or the captain

“there’s bravery in being soft”

even with the cruel life of the pirates, rory never stopped being kind

tries to write letters as much as she can

knows how to draw and tries to sketch all the places she has seen

has a few tattoos (most of them to remember her mother)

even with her great abilities with fencing, rory prefers a long shot than hand to hand combat

knows archery and has great aim

speaks english and spanish

coffee for her is like rum for pirates

has her own moral code

always makes sure to steal books whenever she can

intellectual af

swears a lot and somehow people still get surprised when she does so

curious, a wanderer

very logical and is a great war/battle strategist

jess mariano

italian

prefers using pistols better than swords

sailor’s mouth

distracts his opponents with snarky comments

captain of The Subsect

wears a lot of rings

speaks english and italian fluently, and a little of french

has a journal

takes care of his ship with his life

so many rumors about him that are unbelievable and exaggerated, and he couldn’t care less

the rumors started because jess is very quiet and mysterious, not to mention intimidating and somewhat of a troublemaker

wears earrings

“i want to be good, life is just not letting me”

needs the loud music and laughter of his crew to relax and be able to sleep

keeps a pocket watch at all times

has a complicated relationship with his mother, with his father and with the ocean

but the ocean is his best, most fulfilling and longest relationship

writes everything about the places he visited as a somewhat of an archive

has books thrown everywhere in his cabin

smokes the finest tobacco

barely sleeps

lots of scars

wears eyeliner

learned how to play with illusion tricks and uses it to scare the crew and his enemies, saying he’s an evil sorcerer/wizard

“i just think gold goes with me eyes”

lots of tattoos

explosive temper

has a moral code of only stealing from the rich

“do no harm, but take no shit”

very hard working

knows how to waltz

people truly believe he has no soul

ran away from his home when he was just a boy and never came back

but why would he?

great in hand to hand combat

really knows how to throw a punch

always has his fingers smudged with ink

prefers the tropical whether

almost never joins the crew when they’re partying, claiming he doesn’t like anyone else

but he’s actually soft for each one of them

he picked his crew by finger and only keeps the loyalest and trustworthier ones

has a velvety voice, angelic even. it’s a shame he doesn’t sing so often

“well, what is much?” is a philosophy about all the riches and books in the world

he’s a poet

his muse is the sea

| the fic;

| her moodboard;

Art and brown

Chalkdust around

Ambience of coffee

That's when I am living.