I'M STILL TRYING

[ryoshan-c-blog]

                             when  the  hope  of  morning  starts to  fade  in  me                              i  don't  dare  let  darkness  have  its  way with  me                              and the hope of morning makes me worth the fight

                  I WILL NOT BE GIVING IN TONIGHT 

[ryoshan-c-blog]

there were hyacinth, for sincerity and asking of forgiveness. there were roses, tulips, orchids, all for apologies when you slipped up and made a little mistake. those weren't good enough. she couldn't make up for her mistakes, and yang deserved more than apology flowers. she could give her flowers which symbolized beauty, and kindness, and strength, but they could only convey a fraction of what made up yang. | pt. i

the truth is, in the vast range of flowers, the years she’d spent picking and pressing them into her journal, she didn’t know what to give yang. time increasingly weighed on her as she stared at the selections, until she was urged to simply pick one by the shopkeeper. the sun slept behind the hills and made way for the moon, by the time she returned. | pt. ii

❝ yang, ❞ she said just as yang was closing the door, her voice nearly slipping in her throat. ❝ yang, i wanted to… ❞ hesitance, a dreadful cuff around her wrists. blake broke them and quickly raised the flowers in front of her. the carnations sat in her hand like they didn’t belong there. ❝ i passed by a flower shop and i wanted to buy some for you. ❞ | pt. iii

( carnations, for affection and devoted love, the flower which says you won’t forget them, you promise you’ll never forget them. carnations, the flower which means, ‘i’ll stay with you.’ ) | end.

it’s gettin a bit gay. aa. @rebellas

    yang’s bones creak to a stop beyond the door, like an old house in protest against the wind. its howl still pushes her forward, eyes on the prize like the bed tucked into the corner of this small room would force the storm to pass. but it’s blake’s voice she hears on the breeze, and from there comes her motivation to turn back, an expression of sullen welcome on her face. her fingers clutch the door frame as her eyes take in the sight. 

    blake, hiding behind a bunch of flowers. yang is a little more graceless than blake; she can’t put a name to the yellow bunch but it occurs to her in her tired haze that they look a little like roses, if roses had shunned uniformity in favour of spreading their wings and flying. it takes perhaps a painful amount of time for her to react beyond lips parting to release a soft breath, but when she does, it’s to smile softly and reach out with a soft hand to accept the gift. 

    it’s more than just flowers, she knows. that’s why her hand doesn’t just wrap around the stem, but blake’s fingers too. yang steps back, tugging blake with her into the room and letting the door fall shut behind them. her free hand tugs the flowers from between their grips and deposits them in last night’s glass of water. they light up her nightstand even in the dark, and with her fingers lacing into blake’s she pauses a moment to admire them. they’d be taken by decay some day soon, and her memory owed this one to blake to keep them safe. 

    “thanks, blake.” yang says, finally breaking the silence. her closed fist tugs blake forward and into her arm, the pair wrapping together in a hug that somehow reminds yang of that afternoon in the lecture hall, where this all began. this time she’s shameless in the way her nose dips into blake’s neck and takes a deep breath, eyes pressing shut like maybe if she thinks hard enough she’ll be back there, back to when things were just good versus evil and SIMPLE. 

                             (but there’s solace in knowing that this time, blake is HERE.) 

[ryoshan-c-blog]

LIKE THIS POST for a possibly cracky ask where context is optional.

[ryoshan-c-blog]

i did it lads,,, i replied to all five (5) whole things i was owe and im rlly proud of myself but im rlly tired now so im gonna lay down and maybe reblog a meme tomorrow or something so i can write more. thank u for ur patience, i think i’m finally feeling like a writer again,, 

[ryoshan-c-blog]

blake

     lemon balm, an herb from the mint family. rubbed on skin, it soothes your cuts. consumed as tea, your mind is left afloat in the minted breeze. since ancient times, it was served to relieve stress, insomnia, and the horrible burn of wounds. the cup tingles against blake’s hand, still hot and fresh from the boiler. the server prepared her drink first among the dozen other orders after watching the desperation in her eyes, wide and close to revealing the contraction of her pupils under her yellow-tinted lenses.

     maybe she would’ve been discovered after all, if weiss hadn’t brought his attention away. maybe it was simply compassion on his part.

     blake stops in front of their dorm room, ears straining under the ribbon for any hint of sound. she hears yang’s breathing, but that was it. there was no sign of movement, no indication she was doing anything but staying still as a statue. the door creaks softly as blake slips in.

     ❝ yang,❞ blake says, eyes searching. ❝ i brought you something to drink, if that’s alright.❞

even if it’s just this. ( @ryoshan )

    despair doesn’t look good on yang. stress coils around her like vines around a tree trunk, and in the privacy of her dorm knowing she’s being given a generous moment alone she doesn’t care to fight it. instead, she lays on her back, left arm screwing the sheets of blake’s bed up in a fist, the other resting across her closed eyes like a damsel in distress, hapless and hopeless in her perilous state. she’d thought she might nap, given long enough. 

    the voice startles her, so quietly did blake slip in, and yang’s so eager to shake off her melancholy under the scrutiny of someone’s presence she forgets she was lying on the bottom bunk. her head strikes the bottom of her own bunk so hard that the books holding it up tremble, and she curses under her breath as her body shifts so that feet can sit flat on the ground. it’s only after her palm has had time to massage the worst of the pain out of her forehead and scalp that she really takes in WHO it is that’s shown face, and why. 

    “blake.” she says, in response. her eyes fall to the drink, and she’d squint if moving her eyebrows even a little didn’t add to the headache. there’s embarrassment in her tone, a clipped edge that cuts through the air and leaves it chilly. “yeah, sure, that’s fine.” 

    she clears her throat, time taken to force her attention onto anything but herself. 

    “what’d you bring me?” 

[ryoshan-c-blog]

( daffodil )  colorshifts·

          THE REPTILIAN FOLLOWS SUIT,   &&. she perhaps enjoys the small contact more than she should.  but she isn’t about to break it apart / where’s the hurt in holding hands ?  out the door the duo goes, &&. NOW it’s apparent to ilia that yang is playing her game, too.  faunus actively forgets the last time she flirted so openly ( blake belladonna; completely over her head ).

         “ well, i don’t know about that, ”  the chameleon starts ( trying to play it smooth, though her scales have already shifted to a brilliant pink ), blinking once before revealing piercing purple eyes to match those of her totally not date.  with yang leading the way, ilia trails behind slightly, but she makes sure to lock eye contact so that xiao long sees that she’s got tricks up her sleeves, too.  &&. how the stars &&. moon illuminate the blonde’s eyes, soaking up their light with elegance ( probably to lunar - power her teasing capabilities, ilia thinks.  i’ll have to match hers. ).  “ i think yours are a lot sweeter. ”  

    yang has the good sense not to comment on the sudden flush of ilia’s scales. it must be hard, she thinks. to telegraph your feelings so boldly. nonetheless, she takes it as a good sign, and she doesn’t bother to let go of ilia’s hand like she’d intended to once they were on their way. what’s the harm INDEED. 

    at first, she doesn’t notice the change in ilia’s eyes. not until the smile of mischief leads yang to wonder what’s going on that she’s not spotting. but it’s a grin that breaks out the second she does, and a lightness in her chest that she hasn’t felt in a long time. how refreshing it is, to find herself again behind the eyes of a near-stranger. 

    “you just -- that’s so cool!” yang exclaims, pausing in her steps and tugging ilia less than a foot away like she really needed to peer to get a clearer look. “same shade and everything. i’m IMPRESSED.” 

[ryoshan-c-blog]

blake·

     the guitar knocks into the door behind her, creating an awkward strum of sound not unlike a strangled animal. any sense of abandoning this endeavor has been thrown out the window. the glass pieces scatter across the grass, and so does her heart. there was no use hiding it anymore. blake slowly lifts the guitar behind her and sets it down at the tip of her shoes. 

     ❝ a guitar, ❞ blake says, eyes flicking to the side. ❝ i made it for you. ❞

     painful, the way fear pierces between the ribs and directly into the lungs. where did her breathing go? ( or her courage, for that matter. )

    “oh.” 

    somehow, yang knows that such a half-hearted response is neither helpful nor conducive to soothing the very obvious nervousness blake is falling under right now even through her glazed dumbfoundedness. to be honest, yang can’t quite put her finger on what’s more surprising; the gift, or just how hesitant blake sounds to admit she had any part in it. thankfully though, yang’s eyes are wide and her lips slightly parted in a comic-book display of her surprise. 

    she stands from her chair, thumping it out of the way with a kick from booted feet and crosses over to where blake hovers by the door. she looks like she has full intentions of scarpering through it, but yang hopes she can convince her to stay.

    “i forgot,” yang says, almost wistfully, a small smile creeping across her lips as she draws closer, eyes on the instrument. “you heard me play.” 

[ryoshan-c-blog]

( raindrops )  nvvrrmorr

     AH, and there went her thoughts of being good at appearing as a normal bird. Having had the ability of the wizard for so many years, Raven was almost sure she had the quirks of an everyday corvid packed down; and maybe she did, but that had been before Yang knew.

     She remembered when she could hobble about directly in front of her daughter, fluttering her wings and pecking away at the ground while the girl was none the wiser. But now circumstances were different and had it been any other, Raven would have been proud of Yang’s perception to pinpoint her identity in this form – still, she wished it wasn’t the case right now.

     Raven knew she was fighting a losing battle trying to keep herself from just taking off and running away, her clipped talons leaving marks behind where she stood as she held on with added force.

      And then there was THAT WORD – always spoken the same no matter who it was that said it. That word stung, not because it was wrong, but because it was true. She had no way of defense other than to agree with it, she was, in fact, a coward, and dare she say it, it was a part of her nature. Even her very semblance made it so she always had a means of escape.

     But not this time, she was done running.

     Taking flight over the short distance, the wind ruffling her feathers cast a feeling that never failed to chase away her anxieties – until now. Her leap was that of a bird, but her landing was completely human. Her mouth was dry, eyes narrowed as the chieftess fought one of her many nervous ticks in the sights of her daughter.

     ❝ Yang… ❞ coaxed by a stuttered breath, Raven looked forward with her lips drawn into a line, ❝ … I thought– ❞ she paused, that wasn’t quite right, ❝ I didn’t mean to intrude… I thought that maybe we could talk for a bit? ❞ did that seem fair? Raven wasn’t even sure herself anymore, her intentions all became a mess in her mind. Already, she could feel her nerves begin to flare inside of her– 

                                          – was this a mistake? 

    There was a tightness in Yang’s chest that had nothing to do with the rage she thought she’d see upon meeting her mother again. While part of her never thought Raven would come near ever again (and Yang herself was certainly done searching for her), there was a heavy weight like stone in water that told her this was inevitable. It was the kind of thing you practised in your head, over and over till you got exactly what you wanted to say out. You build a way you expect it to go. Yang hadn’t expected it to come so soon. Yang hadn’t expected Raven to seek HER out. She’d been angry before, and she’d expected that to continue. 

    She sure as shit didn’t expect to feel nothing but HURT the second she locked eyes with her absentee mother. 

    Her fist relaxed and curled inwards again, the way heroes did in movies with creaky leather gloves right before a fight. But Yang wasn’t a hero standing here in her pyjamas, mane tied back and half her arm still sitting by her bedside. Adrenaline didn’t course through her veins like it had in the vault, shielding her from her fears and the abject sadness that had washed over her like a heavy shower of rain on Raven’s departure. She wasn’t ready to feel like that again, and she didn’t know how to react otherwise. 

    Her teeth were grinding painfully, and Yang only noticed when she finally parted her lips to speak at the tail end of a long, painful silence. 

    “I have NOTHING to say to you that I haven’t said before.” 

    Her voice was clipped, and though she tried to sound as strong as she had in the vault, where her voice bounced off the impossibly high roof, there was a thin vulnerability to it. Like it was made of the kind of glass champagne flutes were made out of, that could be crushed with a flex of even a weak fist. She hated it, and she hated herself in that moment, but not as much as she hated Raven. It was easier to be angry, and she willed herself to feel THAT instead of the pervasive misery. 

    She took a decisive step forward from the stoop she had sat on, bare feet finding footing on gravel. 

    “If YOU have something to say, get on with it. I don’t have all night.” 

[ryoshan-c-blog]

@rebellas | continued [x]

    oh, no. 

    there’s a rhythm there, like the thunder in her heart that doesn’t tear open the skies but exists only for yang. she can find a beat, and her thumbs idly massage to the song that unravels in her head that she’ll write one day for blake. she can feel the tip of blake’s ear flicker under her breath, and her heart gasps with the warmth of it. this can’t be real, this moment that’ll embed itself in her memory. it has to be a dream. 

    her eyes flicker to blake’s lips, plush and gently parted to release her shallow, contented breaths. she thinks perhaps she might like to maybe take advantage of this dream, if she dares. like a woman possessed, her body bows further. it’s awkward, the way she curls into herself to suitably encompass blake, but it’s worth it when their lips meet. yang holds her breath, the contact tentative and questioning and wary, oh so wary of her FRIEND’S boundaries. 

    (the song is still playing behind her eyes, and it sings i wish for something more.)

[ryoshan-c-blog]

hey guys, sorry for being so awol despite just getting back. it’s been a super hard like,, six days and it’s not over yet. i wont bore anyone w the details other than that i have exactly 0 energy and no will to do anything creative. thank u all for ur patience, and if anyone can spare some Good Vibes™ i’ll be over here like a vacuum cleaner hoovering that shit up 

[ryoshan-c-blog]

rebellas·:

     ah, excellent. fate decided to place itself in her hands instead of yang’s. the guitar grinds relentlessly in her palm as blake stands there, caught in the endless expanse of time, hand hovering over the golden knob that is just barely within her touch. her shoulders fall for a moment, then rise back up. blake opens the door, first with her ears peeking through the gap, then all of her slipping into the room with the guitar in tow. it hides behind her.

     ❝ hey… ❞ blake says, a small smile teetering the edge of her lips. her heart beats like drums. ❝ i just wanted to check if you were busy. am i interrupting anything? ❞

   “uh --” yangs eyes flick back to the table, where a large sheet of paper is threatening to unfurl from the half-drunk cup of water that’s weighing down the top right corner. in hindsight, it wasn’t a great idea to be using a consumable paperweight, but yang was never one for thinking ahead. she shakes her head eyes flickering down to the -- something behind blake. is that a guitar? why does blake have a guitar? 

   “no, i was just uh,” her hand sweeps over the paper, gesturing to lines and diagrams and measurements. “just designing something. keeping the hands busy, right?” she wiggles her fingers, metal clicking against metal. “what you got there?” 

[ryoshan-c-blog]

@nvvrrmorr​

   Yang didn’t remember the last time she got a full night’s sleep. It never used to be a problem back in the days where waking up at night just meant she needed a breath of air on the porch before settling down for her second batch of sleep. Now, her sleeplessness came with hot sweats and an inability to breathe. Going outside wasn’t a whim, it was a necessity to choke back the cool night air and clear her lungs of the smoke that’d entombed them. This night, the eve of their journey to Atlas, was no different. 

   Her bare toes dug into the gravel at the bottom of the stoop she was perched on, and Yang’s eyes gave a haphazard glance upwards. She might not have noticed the silhouette of a bird against the shattered moon had it’s wings not fluttered under her glazed scrutiny, but it did. Maybe it wanted to be noticed. There was no mistaking the red eyes, and Yang came to the stark realisation that it wasn’t just at the bandit camp, or at Haven Academy that she’d seen this bird before. Yang stood up, arm loose at her side and the other craving the prosthetic she’d left in her room. 

   “You’re following me again.” She called out, eyes on the bird. It stepped from foot to foot, but otherwise didn’t react. That angered Yang even more, her fist curling so tightly she could feel the crescents of her nails digging into her palm. 

   “You gonna show your face, or are you too much of a coward for that too?” 

[ryoshan-c-blog]

rebellas‌:

     they say the best way to tell a story is to let imagination run its work in place of a long, tedious explanation. show, not tell, so blake’s heard. so what does it mean when she stands in front of yang’s door, five minutes into staring at a spinning splotch of wood, her heavily bandaged fingers wrapped around a guitar with splinters that poke at her skin? the idea of watching yang interpret this makes blake’s breath wither.

     regardless, she knocks on the door.

     ❝ yang. it’s blake. ❞

    the funny thing about peace is that once it’s been turned upside down, you stop trusting it. it returns, and you watch it like a scorned lover for any signs of change, any hint that it’s going to toss you from its back at the smallest of hurdles. yang’s life will never be like it was BEFORE, but this past few days have been so calm as to put her on edge. the knock (no-one knocks in this damned house) makes her teeth feel like glass.

    the voice, however, soothes it.

    “oh, ow!” shouldn’t have tried to stand up when she’s been hunched over a desk for hours. her right hand extends, metal fingers working into her shoulder muscles. “come on in.”

[ryoshan-c-blog]

nyello friendos i’ve done it i’ve remade and i’m finally finished! all my old stuff is still available over at @ryoshan-a but i’ll be migrating headcanon posts over and stuff. if you’re still interested in rping with my yang, would you mind REBLOGGING this post? bless y’all for your support and patience <3 

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yang tag dump!

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verse tag dump!

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ooc tag dump!