#reisaval writes

[reisaval]

Who Am I?

✧ Welcome in, dear interlocutor. These deep spiral galaxies seem to go on for miles, and there's no way of knowing where they could possibly end, but isn't that the beauty of it?

✧ My name is Reisaval, or Reis for short, pronounced much the same as the word "raze", which is fitting as recently I have burned it all down and begun anew. My pronouns are he/they, and I'm a streamer, a shapeshifter, and very queer.

✧ If you knew me before, know that I am no longer that person. I am a completely new entity and I'd like to keep it as such. The past is the past, and while it's nice to look back at times, I must not let myself drown in it again.

✧ I've gathered a few helpful links to find me on other platforms in the form of this linktree, simply click through and make your way over to our Discord, or Twitch, or wherever else you may end up, as drifting is not frowned upon here, rather encouraged, and no matter where you find yourself, there will always be space for you here.

✧ A few things to keep in mind about this blog, and some about my greater online presence.

First, we are not friends. I choose my friends carefully and keep them close to my heart, and those who are my friends will know. This may seem harsh, but in the past this has become an issue, and I'd like to make this very clear from the start.

Second, I will be much more free on this site, from #reisaval reblogs of things I find interesting or hold beauty, to #reisaval writes where I may share things such as small snippets of my own writing or even full fanfics from things I enjoy, or #reisaval art which is primarily going to be abstractions from the depths of my mind. I will be posting anything I want to.

Third, you are all more than welcome to ask me questions, but I reserve the right to simply not answer them if I do not want to, and they will just disappear into the void. Do not let this discourage you from asking in the first place, though, as you never know and you can't possibly know unless you take that step. Do the thing, and if you're afraid, do the thing scared. All answered questions can be found under the #reisaval answers tag!

Fourth, if you create something for me, please tag it with the tag #reisaval - the past should remain in the past as I've stated before, so if you're creating something for the past, please leave it in the old tags and do not include the new ones. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, that's for the better.

✧ If you've made it this far, I applaud you, as reading all of these words can sometimes be quite tedious, but they're all very important and I do think words hold such a power to them. I may be long winded at times, but I simply have a lot to say, as my mind drifts constantly from one thing to the next. If I don't let that out into my creations or my writing, it will have dire consequences, and I must not do that to myself. So, as a final remark, I thank you for reading. Your patience with me is greatly appreciated.

[reisaval]

Relics and Ruins

I've just published the first chapter of my own original fiction on AO3, entitled Relics and Ruins. This story follows a fighter by the name of Mica, who wakes up in a strange land and must learn the ways of this place before they find themself completely lost.

Read the first chapter here.

[reisaval]

things left unsaid

A JhinHwei collection of poems and letters from Hwei's perspective, after the events at Koyehn.

Read the third entry here.

[reisaval]

I own things that no one can wear anymore.

The sweater that feels like destiny. ⚔️

The t-shirt for the catboy vibes. 💚

The loud jacket for a gambler. 🎲

It's all changed so much in such a short time.

An overseer gone under the rubble. ⚙️

A carousel spun too far to recover. 🎠

Coloring books gathering dust because no one wants to play. 🌈

But there are new things now, gotten at the store that smells like incense and hope.

A band t-shirt for a scene kid. 💋

A dress for a quiet doll. 💙

A cute top for a social media queen. 💎

A long sleeve shirt with a sunflower on it. ❤️

I am still searching for more, for the tortured artist, for the sparky explorer, for the guy who likes burgers, for the caged spider.

Soon they will all be able to find comfort.

[reisaval]

I write all these words on here and laugh at myself.

It's ridiculous, I said I wanted to be more separated and less personal.

But I need to let my art out, and it is all of me in the purest form.

It's for me. It's all for me.

And gods, do I love what I can see in my smile now.

[reisaval]

things left unsaid

A JhinHwei collection of poems and letters from Hwei's perspective, after the events at Koyehn.

Read the second entry here.

[reisaval]

The moon is far away, and yet I look for her light to return each night. I cannot touch her, simply see her drifting along in this vast expanse just as I do. Her path seems quite clear, but perhaps to her it isn't, and my path is the one she finds to make sense. We may never know, but our paths cross often, and I'd quite like to keep it that way.

My camera can't capture her in all her beauty, yet the light she gives is enough for me to smile and remember what I've seen.

[reisaval]

I used to build castles.

I would decorate the walls, make the dungeons below, craft beautiful doors with gates to keep undesirables out, and the center spaces would never be decorated as I couldn't figure out what to put there. But keeping others out was never the point. I wanted to keep myself in, to stay somewhere familiar and where I thought safe. I didn't like the plains outside, there were too many unknowns and too much fear lurking just past my field of view. I'd build lighthouses too, saying it was so others could find their way, but it was always just to light the area so that I could feel a little safer.

One day, all of the walls crumbled, and I was left in a pile of rubble. I wanted to stay there, I had started to pick up the bricks and attempt to set them back up, but they wouldn't stay, too damaged to be pressed back together and form a structure around me.

I decided to move on from the castle. I walked away from the lighthouse. I looked into the distance and found the stars, and blindly stumbled towards them in the night, tripping over fallen branches in the forests or falling into shallow pitfalls in the desert. I didn't know where they would lead, I just knew I had to follow the stars. Morning came, and the world blossomed in light, illuminating the fields of flowers welcoming me and my bees into their midst. A haven for the lost. A home for those without. It was sweeter than anything I'd ever tasted.

And I will keep moving, for there are other flowers to see, and there are more stars to chase.

[reisaval]

A friend recently told me a quote from Ernest Hemingway - "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

I feel much the same, and oh, I am bleeding.

I am bleeding so much that it pools in my shoes each day as I step outside to water the flowers.

It collects against my pillowcase at night while I try to sleep.

It sticks in my cats fur as he purrs against me.

It's showing no signs of stopping, and so I direct it into these words, these things I write.

Perhaps these words will staunch the flow eventually, but for now...

Let me bleed.

[reisaval]

It's like a disease.

The way someone can fall into the traps set so easily, to need that external validation constantly, craving it, carnally needing it. I was an addict. Always needing more, more, more, more praise, more... Something. I wanted to feel so deeply, but nothing was getting through. It was a disease. Transactions were my way to get these things, putting surface level things into the world and farming likes, comments, shares. Needing people to find me useful, ever searching for more I could do. More posts, more engagement, farming the algorithms until my fingers turned blue and my eyes sunk deeper into my skull. I couldn't even breathe, but it was all I thought I had. You can't see straight when you're caught in the weeds, under the surface and the waves keep crashing over your head, obscuring the hand that is reaching for you, calling your name, trying to pull you out, but all you can focus on is that next breath of air.

You have to break the cycle.

Miss that breath. Still yourself. Really look.

Except that hand has given up by now, so you must reach down and pull yourself from the weeds, biting and clawing and ripping at them until you free yourself.

You stop drowning.

You see the sun.

Oh, how I've missed the flowers.

[reisaval]

Being reborn is a harrowing process.

You must strip away all that you are to the bone, peeling back the flesh which has long since rotted anyways, and truly find your inner self. The skin holds scars that you can't even truly comprehend, deep into the muscles and nerves laying beneath, and flaying it away draws those back up to the surface for all to see. The process isn't easy, and once you find yourself as a skeleton of what once was, only then can you begin to heal. The bones below still hold scars of their own, but they're not festering any longer, they're exposed, the sunlight and air reaching them and allowing them to breathe and sprout new life from them, the old wounds giving way to let the plants take over, molding a new form to forever grow and change, shielding those scars from the rot and decay that threatens each of us daily. There may be times when you are still damaged again, but the plants you've now let in will grow over, ever changing, always filling your life with beauty. Soon enough you will sprout flowers, and welcome the bees with open arms, allowing them to create honey from everything that you ever feared, and oh, it will taste so sweet.

[reisaval]

I have many bees.

The bees are all around me, stinging those I care for, buzzing in my ears and even stinging me at times. I never asked for the bees. The bees were given to me by people I once knew, or people I still know. People who I trusted or who I grew to resent. But they have bees of their own as well, even as they were passing some of them onto me. Even then, those bees are mine now, and even though I'm not a beekeeper, I must try to manage them and attempt to teach them they don't always have to sting, even if it's all they know or all they were taught. I must also remember that my bees are not to be controlled and I must not shame them. They are their own creatures, and I have to show them the beauty of the flowers, instead of being so wary of the thorns that could be lurking underneath. The bees will learn, in time, as will I.

[reisaval]

Broken glass shatters across the dance floor as I spin and shake, breaking out all the moves I've learned from moths and spiders, flashy, too lewd, but I just don't care.

I'm asked for my number, twice, and can't say yes. I can't get away from the little light above the stage, saying "He's watching", the screen always on, eyes on me, eyes on everyone, everywhere.

More broken glass on the floor, more spins and twirls of my skirt, more heartbreak disguised as apathy, slamming another bottle of water so I don't drown in the drink instead as I've done so many times in my past.

I don't know if I'll ever break free. The screen is always on, and they're always saying "trust us", but how can I? After all, they're the ones who walked away after saying that they wouldn't.

[reisaval]

Boxes are there to store things

Pictures

Places

People

To control them and keep them locked how they were

Society says if you don't fit into a box, you're not good enough

You're useless

You're nothing

But I disagree, now that I've torn my own box open that I was trapped in

I think if you don't fit into a box

You are unique

Thriving

Wonderful

It's time to tear free

It's time to be alive

[reisaval]

The rain sounds outside my window are calming

I know I have to try to sleep again, but I wonder for a moment what it would feel like to step into the rain and let it sink into my skin and hair, covering me completely, letting it soak all the way into my bones

I do not indulge in this urge, but it is a nice thought

Perhaps if it is still raining later, once I have slept more, once my eyes stop hurting

The rain will always come again

[reisaval]

Communication is a two way street.

It must be.

If you are saying things and expecting the other person to not have their own thoughts or feelings on the matter, you are not treating them like a human being.

Like someone with their own problems.

Like someone who can grow.

You may think that is setting boundaries, like that is "protecting your peace."

But it does not make you a good human being.

Being in touch with your humanity does.

And humanity is utterly flawed.

We are not robots.

We are ever changing.

We are allowed to have a reaction.

To ask questions.

How else are we to understand?

If you really care about someone, you will try to have a conversation during a calmer time.

Once the tears have stopped.

Once the drugs have worn off.

Once you've gotten a good night's rest.

Revisit.

Reflect.

We are all capable of learning.