i'll steal the stars.

i heard that more than ninety percent of the ocean remains undiscovered, so maybe that’s where i am. maybe that’s where i’ll find myself.

✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖

I'll burn the bridge when I get to it [dead blog]

Call it love,
or call it murder,
kill me quietly.
Written by Hibe.「 Indie OC blog 」

V`: Renégat

      _{Matter of the fact was that she never liked staying after school. Not once. She was always trying to race home and get away from it all, but even home felt like the same goddamn trap to keep her in place and down a path she never even chose to go down. Everything’s all these pre-destined pray-everyday-and-god’ll-have-mercy-on-you crap. Fuck. God’ll give her strength if she gets through this ridiculous waste of time called tutoring. She sucks as words, she knows that; but reading incantations at home has nothing to do with the basic language everyone knows. It’s the simple that’s she’s both too stubborn and too stuck-up to bother with.}

      _{She’s passed by this classroom countless times and looked into it another countless times more. Now that she’s here, who the fuck’s her tutor? The last thing she needs or wants is some smart, do-gooder, know-it-all telling her what to do, or what she’s done wrong.} 

      _{She scans the barely full classroom, unsatisfied. Some kids are witlessly talking to the teacher who’s got too much paperwork than he would like to work with. The other’s are already getting their studying started with; and there’s only one other person that’s sitting alone.} 

      _{Her long, thick hair, along with her never resting mind have blocked out any external sounds as she doesn’t care much for them. She would really rather take a long walk away from home and school, hearing music, and getting lost on her own terms. Her and her mother were never on the same page with each other anyway, even after Protective Services transferred her over to her custody. It’s always, “Remember this” and “Don’t forget that”, “Be pure to get yourself a husband”, “Have you practiced your chant?”, “Don’t forget your fox charm–it’ll protect you.” What more rules and customs can you bind into one 18 year old, you old hag?} 

      _{Sighs are passed through the air in hefty strength, presenting herself to the lone blonde she tightens the grip on her handbag in the slightest, which she hung over her shoulder, as electric blue hues looked down on the possible acquaintance she would have for the remaining time of two whole hours she had to spend going over English homework. She’s the epitome of distraught.} 

     _{❝Are you my tutor?❞}