I’m Ruby。 I’m roughly 20 apples tall
ルビーです。背がりんごを20つぐらいです。

I drew my profile pic and banner. The gameplay in the banner is from dragon quest 1 for game boy that I recorded myself.

posts from @YuushaRuby tagged #creative writing

also:

I have this now

If you wanna shoot me a few bucks a month for my writing

I’m working on a new entry for Ordway’s school of library and information sciences today which will be on patreon and sent to libera pay peeps (if you email me) when it’s finished, and available a week later for everyone else

You can read the first entry here: https://rubymayvalentine.net/oslis1



click here for a story I wrote. It’s a rough draft I suppose. Please be advised if you find trouble reading about traumatic experiences The year is 5777. I’m in my home. I’m in my mother’s home. I go to make something for breakfast. He is there. He is doing everything in his power to make this anything other than my mother’s home. I go to reach for the half & half for my coffee. He grabs my wrist. “That is your mother’s half and half.” I argue that my mother wouldn’t mind if I used some. She wouldn’t mind. I’ve known my mother for 18 years. He thinks he knows her better. I give up. I reach for a potato. He says those are your mother’s potatoes. I say she wouldn’t mind if I had some. I’m trying to make breakfast. I’m hungry. I want breakfast. I grow irate. He grabs me. He digs his hands into my arms and it hurts. He attempts to drag me off into my room. I grab the corner of the wall into the hallway. I hold on stronger than I’ve ever held on to anything. My fingers hurt. They keep hurting. I give up. He thinks he bested me in strength but I simply gave up. I didn’t know about police. I didn’t know how they behaved. I called the police. The police yelled at me over the phone saying my address was not a valid address. I realize my error and give them the proper address. The police show up and check me for any marks. There are marks. They ask if I want to press charges. My mother interjects and says if I press charges I will be on the street tonight. I don’t press charges. A few months later he is there. I’m talking to my mother about something trivial. He interjects and says something awful to me about who I am. I say something rude back. He grabs me by the neck and throws me out of the front door into the yard. I text my friend. I leave. I sleep at his house. My mother texts me and says I can come back. I say I will come back when he is gone. He doesn’t leave. I don’t come back. I surf upon a sea of couches until the sea meets the edge of the world. I fall off. I wake up in a pond. The pond makes great promises to me. The pond wants rent money eventually though. I lose my mind in the pond. I crawl out of the pond and onto a bridge. I look over the bridge. I’m scared. The police show up. I find myself on another bridge. The bridge asks me how I’m feeling. The bridge gives me medicines with names formed by strange tongues. I leave the bridge. I cross a lake. I’m looking for someone. They don’t know I exist. They also do not exist where I exist. A bird dies in my hands. I’ve had half a bottle of tequila by now. I ride my bike to my mother’s house shortly after finding myself in the cold of a strange complex. He’s there. I ask for my mother. He calls the cops. I ride my bike. The cops show up. I’m arrested. He claims I threatened to kill him. I didn’t threaten to kill him. I spend an era within a cage. I scream every day. I sing every day. I write every day. I read every day. I don’t know how long a day is anymore. I haven’t seen sunlight in centuries. There are no clocks here. There is nothing but me, paper, pencils, and books. I find myself in the desert. I’m a cowboy. I’m ripped suddenly from the desert and I’m back in a cage. I’m ripped suddenly from the cage. I’m outside. I begin the journey back to the pond. A friend finds me on my nine mile walk and drives me back to the pond. In the morning, the pond tells me I’m no longer welcome. A fish tells me that the police will come if I don’t leave and that someone else can come for my belongings. I leave the pond. I cross the lake. I cross the salt. I sleep under the stars for the first time in centuries. I don’t know how long a day is anymore. I spend many more centuries amidst the concrete and bugs. They crawl on my face as I sleep. I wake up in an alley next to a man pissing about one foot away from my head. He apologizes. He asks if I want a swig of his beer. I politely decline. One morning the stars are blocked from my vision and a cop is asking me if the giant semi-truck parked on the street is mine. I immediately assess that I’m talking to one of the stupidest people I will ever have the displeasure of meeting. If that was my truck, why wouldn’t I be sleeping in the cabin? I want to say this. I say “no.” He says camping is illegal in the concrete jungle. I say okay. He offers me resources. I say “no.” He writes me a warning and says I will be back in a cage if I’m ever caught in the wild again. I find shelter. I don’t care what happens here. I sleep on the floor and I wake up to clean. Every day I find myself in orbit. I’m on Venus. I’m on Mercury. I’m on Mars. I don’t know how long a day is anymore. Many centuries pass and my mother calls me. She says “I’m sorry for letting him do that to you.”