Martch - Ruby Martch 23

WRITING: 1. Write a poem about Spring (under 200 words)

Spring is the season of rebirth:
of new beginnings, new life, new opportunities,
joy, beauty, and life.
The sunshine returns after a long winter—
days longer
and more hopeful.
The grass grows greener,
the flowers bloom,
and, sometimes, people do too.

WRITING: 3. Have your character tell us their best PG13 joke (under 200 words, over 50 words)
Note: Joke taken from this site

Slava leaned forward. “Did you hear the one about the roof?” he asked, eyebrows raised, a smile on his face as he tried to make his expression look as genuine as possible. After a brief pause wherein he was met with confused looks, he shook his head in teasing dismissal. “Never mind, it’s over your head.” He grinned widely, clearly proud of himself and fully prepared to be playfully smacked for it.

WRITING: 4. Write a post about feelings with no dialogue (under 1000 words, over 200 words)

Ruby lay in bed at the end of another day. She had just put her book down and was left with her own thoughts as her head rested against the pillow. Today was a Friday, the day she held tutoring sessions for Isadora. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the whole tutoring thing overall. Their sessions were fine, sometimes enjoyable, but there were complicated feelings behind what it represented for Ruby. On one hand, she was helping people, and that was good, right? Wasn’t that what she wanted, at least when she was younger? She had wanted to save the world, whatever that meant. And then she had turned to violence and anger for so long, whatever morals she had largely going out the window, causing harm on a whim. Isolation for over a year had mellowed her enough that she had stopped attacking people, but she was unsure where she stood now and what she really valued.

The darkness that marred her previous years was still indubitably present in how she navigated the world and the things she desired. But it had never been her in her entirety. There was always the potential for good or destruction, not just for her but for everyone. It was just a part of being human. While she was getting better at controlling it, it still tore her apart some days—the anger at all who had wronged her and the things that had happened to her, the frustration at herself for having failed and for past weakness—and yet she knew deep down that couldn’t even resolve to be better. Part of her wanted to cling to it. The anger kept her strong, kept her powerful. Kept people afraid to wrong her. And if keeping people away from her to stay “strong” was actually linked to fear below the surface? Well, she would never admit it.

Maybe she was turning over a new leaf. After all, she was tutoring Isadora out of the goodness of her own heart, with genuinely no ulterior motives for once. She just wanted to strengthen Isadora, make it so that she would never be as weak and defenseless as Ruby had once been, give her the confidence to be able to face danger and come out comparatively unscathed. But she wondered how long this charity would last and how far it stretched. Was it worth changing when the only problem she had with staying the way she had been was that it conflicted with the values she held in her childhood? But that was before pain at Hogwarts had torn her innocent naivety away from her. She hadn’t known what the world was really like when she had wanted to “save” it. She sighed, shaking her head. It was time to sleep, not think about whether she was good or bad or needed to change. People weren’t meant to be classified by those restrictive terms anyway, and it wasn’t something she needed to concern herself with. At least not for tonight.

WRITING: 5. Write a solo with your character trying something new (under 1000 words, over 200 words)

The dress had arrived by owl as requested and it had been lying draped over Slava’s trunk across the room for the past two days. This felt like a big deal, but it wasn’t really, was it? It was just fun and games, right? Yet something about how he had specifically requested it to be sent rather than just trying on any old girl’s dress who was roughly the same size as him made him feel like this was more of a momentous event. Normally, he was bubbly and carefree, wanting people to like him but nevertheless being more than confident enough in himself to not mind when people disliked or judged him. But this was different.

Even though he was alone in his room and no one else would have to see, he felt somewhat ashamed, staring at the garment from across the room, a slight frown on his face. Boys weren’t supposed to wear dresses. But the people who said that also said that men were meant to be strong providers and not show emotion, and he didn’t believe in that either. He loved to tell people how much he loved them and openly show affection and joy, and when he or other boys failed or showed weakness, he didn’t think any less of them. People weren’t meant to be emotionless and perfectly strong and always positive or cold. So couldn’t that mean that those ideas of masculinity were wrong, and he could be just as much of a man if he wore a dress?

This was silly. This was so silly. He should just pack it up and send it back, but some part of him desperately wanted to try it. His feet seemed to act of his own accord, and within seconds he was standing in front of it. He picked it up, running the smooth fabric through his hands. What was the harm in trying it here, right now, where no one could see but him? He believed in vivid self-expression, and how could he fully express himself if he didn’t try more of what was out there? If he didn’t like it, he could just put it away and forget it never happened and nobody would ever have to know. Maybe this could be fun. He took a deep breath and knocked on his head playfully. He had to get out of his head. This really wasn’t such a big deal. He was Slava, carefree and bold, whose name meant glory. Surely he could rock a dress.

He grinned and changed quickly, slipping the dress on. It felt different to his usual clothes, more loose and flowing. He headed over to the mirror, striking a pose and laughing. I look beautiful, he thought, winking at himself in the mirror playfully. He grasped the fabric of the skirt area in his hands, testing how it moved, and then dropped it to twirl. Whoa. He twirled again, giggling, loving the way it felt when the fabric flew up in a circle, flaring out. “Whoooosh,” he said aloud, idly narrating the feel. It just felt right to say. Man, I should’ve tried this sooner, he thought. This is fun. He knew Max would support him, and likely some of his friends, but he wondered what other people would think. Well, that was a concern for another day. For now, he could just enjoy the moment as long as he put the dress away before dinner.

WRITING: 6. Make up a spell (under 300 words, over 50 words)

Ever tried to warm yourself under a blanket on a cold day but just can’t get the blanket to stay in the right spot? Fear not, Blanketus Burritum will move your blanket to surround you in the comfiest way possible, cocooning you perfectly with your head in the open and staying in place until you wish it to move.

WRITING: 8. Write a post about your character training for a sport/exercising (under 1000 words, over 200 words)

Slava was up bright and early for one of the few things he consistently had motivation for—exercise. He slipped out of bed and pulled a change of clothes on, completing some basic stretches before wandering over to the punching bag that he had fixed in the middle of the room, getting in position and landing hits on it from various angles. For someone that had near limitless energy, it was extra important to exercise frequently. Not only did he enjoy the activity, it also trained his body and allowed him to focus his mind slightly better by using up some of that excess energy. But when the sweat appeared on his brow and some time had passed, just training with the punching bag wouldn’t be enough.

He barreled down the stairs, responding to his mother’s calls of «Помедленнее, Слава!» “Slow down, Slava!” with a quick «Да, мама» “Yes, mama” (mum) before proceeding to take the rest of the stairs just as fast and fling the door open. When outside, he would head to a level patch of grass and stretch the remaining muscles carefully before beginning his run. He set off jogging at a good pace, curls bouncing, a cheerful grin lighting up his face. Every so often, his strides were punctuated by a little hop! as he found just jogging with no other movements slightly boring, and adding in a little jump or cartwheel every now and then made him happy.

On second thoughts, maybe he should have brought his broom out here. Living on the outskirts of town and his parents’ pub catering exclusively to magical folk meant that he could freely ride through the fields without much concern of being spotted by маглы Muggles. At the same time, he was too far to turn back only to come out again, and he was steadily growing tired. Maybe tomorrow he would bring his broom out—he had to keep his flying skills sharp if he wanted to rejoin the Quidditch team soon, after all. Yes, that was his plan, but for now he was growing tired and needed to head back to take a good shower.

WRITING: 9. Write a poem about love (under 200 words)

Love
isn’t the butterflies in your stomach,
or the soft kisses to your lips.
It’s the everyday gestures,
the “I’m here with you”s,
the “we can talk about it
or just sit here”s,
the “this made me think of you”s
and the “let’s make sure you get out”s.
It’s the warm mug of tea,
the biscuit they brought you,
the way they listen when you’re excited,
the light in your eyes when they’re happy.
“I hope you had a good day—
no, I hope every day of yours is good,
but I’ll sit with you through the bad.”
Sometimes the beauty of nature
works its way into human beings,
and love is seeing it in them.
Love is the laughter people bring,
the cozy close feeling when they’re around.
Love is the people who feel like home:
friends, family, and partners alike.

WRITING: 10. IC write a 100-300 word description of your character's favourite food (must include a recipe outside of the word count)
Note: Recipe copied from here.

The smell wafted up to Slava’s room and he leapt up, sprinting down the stairs. It was the unmistakable smell of piroshki. His eyes were greeted by the beautiful sight of the small golden brown pies that he loved so dearly. He didn’t even need to be called to dinner, motivated by the smell of his favorite food. When they all sat down to eat—after Slava babbling thanks to his parents and something about how much he loved them—he immediately bit into one, the soft bun practically melting in his mouth. He savored all the flavors, the beef, onion, breaded outside, and other ingredients combining to make the taste he so loved. There was something so wonderful about it, even though it was pretty simple and could easily be made in large batches. While he loved all piroshki, it was extra special when made by his parents. They were the best cooks, in his entirely unbiased opinion. He would always ask for another until they told him to stop—he would be content to eat it for the rest of his life. Well, maybe not that, he enjoyed variety, but still. The love was there.

GRAPHICS: 3. New avatar for spring/the ball
Credits: Unsure where the background came from - no watermark and found on Pinterest. Possibly Georgia Grace? The image in the foreground is of Odeya Rush, but I couldn’t find a photographer. Assembled on Canva.

GRAPHICS: 9. Make a graphic to showcase your character's life pre-school
Credits: Moodboard template by Ashiya Pixel on Canva, free for use; images found through Pinterest and assembled in Canva.