"She Healed Him, Replacing His Heart With Hers. He Left, Leaving Behind A Broken, Wounded Marionette.

"She healed him, replacing his heart with hers. He left, leaving behind a broken, wounded marionette. Never to return."

--This Isn't how It Ends

His arms were my home; in his eyes I saw stars, a million light years away from me. He too has been taken from me, reaching heights I can only dream to reach. But why would I leave Earth when your body lays here besides me? When dreaming is worthless when my hand no longer holds yours. Why should I live on when you're the only star I wish to see. Open your eyes for me, one last time. One last time. Let me see the jewels reflected in your eyes -- staring only at me.

The stars Tell Their Story 

Having been friends with Nora all his life, prepared Ren for the absolute chaos that was Jaune Arc, and you can't tell me otherwise.

Rwby Rants

Ruby, gushing about Wiess: My girlfriends Wiess-fucking-Schnee, she would freeze all of you with zero hesitation. She has tried to stab me many times! Her Semblance is out of this world!

Emerald and Blake about to let go of some suppressed rage:

Emerald: Yeah? Well, mine leaves for long periods of time, coming back with a bottle of issues, emotional manipulation and the autumn maidens power, and a chick with an umbrella!

Blake: Bitch, my girlfriend has anger issues, using her prosthetic as a weapon to make things go KABOOM!

Qrow: My boyfriends dead.

Cruel Monsters

Locked up from the moment he was born; from the moment his cries deafened the doctor's ears, stripped of all his rights since the day he could walk: His names, his possessions, his very identity, stolen. His existence erased by those sworn to look after him. They sealed him away in the darkest corner of the mansion. The maids, the butlers, the younger children were told the third floor was cursed. No one ever dared to look for him. His cries were known to be the cursed singing of a banshee, the door rattling, labelled the persistent attacks of a vengeful demon. He became labelled a malevolent phantom. Forgotten as the years went by

That was the life of Ares Vaughn-Fallen.

Love. Kindness. Warmth, were feelings experienced only in books. Anger. Hatred. Sadness -- those were the emotions which spilled from the pages of writing, down the bleeding walls, sliding up his body; drowning him in its grasp.

He knew nothing except the feeling of the hard mattress pressing against his back. His eyes knew no colour except the white of the walls around him, a shade darkened by the black curtains that covered the windows, blocking his source of light. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the sky. Felt the sun's rays blinding him. He remembered falling asleep, smelling his rotting flesh. He didn’t think he would miss the plain walls, the haunting curtains, but as his eyes refused to open, felt his physical body get dragged out with little care, he wished to escape the dark world forced upon him. A cold, unrelenting darkness.

His routine changed.

A scream woke him from his slumber. The darkness had gone. As his eyes locked with those of his saviour, he remembered how bright the sun truly was.

Everyone is basically my Yellow!

procrastinating sucks. Everyone knows this. What sucks is having your entire workload glare at you, while you try so fucking hard to ignore them, making yet another playlist for everyone you care about, when your music taste is basically non-existent. But will I continue to do it? yes.

Doing my forgotten work is the future, sad me's problem <3.