#also she loves puzzle heavy games so so far she is thriving

[fairmerthefarmer]

My sister and I are finally playing SAW (I know KEY is the big thing right now but we are waiting till it’s on steam and hopefully a sale, we have plenty of other Nancy games in our backlog for now)

Anyway this is the quickest we have locked on who we think the culprit is and we will either be really embarrassed or really vindicated.

[gemmahale]

YOU KNOW i want flowers for my love!!!!!!

WIP Ask Game

Flowers for My Love is such a good WIP, and one I need to get back to.

I did check for clarification on what you wanted about FFML (still laughing at what this abbreviation is lol), and you clarified:

i'm curious to see how johanna handles her illness!! i know chronically ill oc isn't like a NEW concept but i'm always curious to see how the character feels about their illnesses/how they describe them to someone who's not chronically ill? that might be way too specific/spoilery though lmao

First off: not spoilery at all. Her disability has nothing to do with the story other than some things have to be approached differently. While yes, she does face different challenges (individual prejudice, medical ignorance, the works), it's a key part of the plot the way her fatness is. (It's not.)

(God I hope this is coming across the way I want and I don't look like an ass.)

That said, Johanna doesn't have a complete diagnosis of her chronic illness(es). I'm doing a little handwavy thing, because I'm not completely confident on the POTS and heart arrhythmia I've given her - I want to make sure I approach it correctly and fully informed to best represent her disability.

But she's keenly aware of her limitations. (Does she listen to them? [Redacted for plot].)

Pepper's definitely improved her quality of life - between alerting and providing DPT (Deep pressure therapy - I'm pretty sure that's what it's called) when she needs it, Johanna is able to thrive in a way she wasn't before Pepper. (And the adoption story is top notch if you ask me. But again, plot point.)

I haven't really gotten into her head about how she feels about it yet. I think it's just kind of an acceptance of "I'll make the best of it." Sure, there's resentment that crops up (plot point), but overall I think it's a begrudging acceptance. I also haven't had enough to really assess how she talks about it to others. (I do have opinions on how Pepper is treated as a pitbull-adjacent breed working dog, which is why she wears the vest and ear-bows she does when she's working.)

Tbh, I've spent more time with the 141 in this WIP so far (okay, prologue and then part of ch 1) that I haven't really gotten into Johanna's head much yet. 🤣

Have a bit of Pepper being the bestest girl though, because I love this fuckin' fictional dog:

Johanna was pulled from her puzzling by a wet nose nudging into her open hand. “Hi Pepps,” she responded automatically, ghosting her hand over the dog’s face to scratch between her ears.  Pepper kept her deep brown eyes on Johanna, resting her head on her knee with a heavy sigh. She pawed lightly at Johanna’s leg, pausing for a second before repeating the action. “I know, I know, it’s break time. Let’s go in, you silly girl.” She kissed Pepper’s head softly, giving her a final pat before standing and hesitating for the slight spinning  in her head to ease. “And I’ll get some more water, okay?” Pepper nudged her knee, still keeping her eyes on her owner. She kept pace with Johanna as she headed into the mud room, sitting on the rug so Johanna could wipe the mud off her paws.

(I swear on my life, nothing bad will happen to Pepper. Johanna will only get injured little bit. But it's part of the plot, okay??)

[florcarrow]

Merlin’s beard, what is ( FLORA CARROW ) doing out at this hour? For a ( PUREBLOOD ) who is ( 17 ) years old, ( SHE ) really ought to know better. You know, I hear that they’re aligned with ( THE NEUTRALS ), but that could be just a rumor. I do know that they’re ( A CIS-WOMAN ) and a ( SLYTHERIN ) student though. They’re very ( QUAINT ) and ( INTROSPECTIVE ) but also quite ( STOIC ) and ( HAUGHTY ), which could be why they remind of ( STAINED PAGES, FROM CRUSHED LILLIES IN THE PLACE OF BOOKMARKS; GHOSTLY WHISPERS FROM THE INSIDE OF A CLOSED ROOM, ALLUDING TO ANGER, TO FEAR, TO LOVE; THE SOUND OF BUBBLING AND FOAMING, BUT THE ABSENCE OF WARMTH ). Some people say they’re the spitting image of ( SOPHIE TURNER ), but I’ve never heard of them. ( &&. CAMI. 19. GMT. SHE/HER. )

hey yall, cami here. i’m really tired but take this please ily k bye

THE CARROWS

" we are the children of magic itself. " her mother used to put it all in quite a poetic manner. the small house, gloomy and damp, had a floating candle under each painting and photograph of long-forgotten carrows, once the ministers and headmasters of entire generations. blunders happened along the way, as it happened to every other pureblood family, and the paintings were thrown in the fireplace or into the creek running behind the property - the carrows had a deeply ingrained culture of glorifying their legacy, but ruthlessly turning it to ash should it not benefit them.

the great fortune of old was wasted by lavish living, and by the time achos carrow married to an insignificant selwyn, the debt ran deep - certainly aided by the heavy involvement of the family in the first wizarding war. in the stories flora was told, they were martyrs, sacrificing their kin and gold for a greater purpose, mourning the injustice of her uncle amycus and aunt alecto, behind bars. of course, it was easy to let stories fester in the minds of children, miles away from the truth - achos and ellaine had moved to a plot of land hidden between the welsh mounds shortly before their children arrived, and for far too many years, they lived mostly in their own forgotten country, where north was down, south was up, history was a puzzle they would rearrange.

their marriage is a happy one, the product of two lifelong friends with their minds set on one cause only, with the same trains of thought. after giving birth to twin girls, the couple saw in them the tabua rasa they so yearned for at work, in the department of magical education. try as they might, children had entire lives before going to hogwarts, and their efforts, even if the rest of the department wasn't in the way most times, was purely too little too late. hestia and flora would change that, becoming their personal experiments.

CHILDHOOD

given how well little flora took to stories, the carrows would spend endless hours sitting down with her, spewing all thoughts they saw fit, and she'd stare, deep in concentration, quiet end still, what an exemplary student. the image they so carefully curated of a small, charming and polite family was spreading.

soon, however, the well-screened tutors and especially the words of her parents were not enough. flora took to reading as soon as she learned how, and in books she could find new subjects, different people they'd never mentioned, fantasy that sounded much more real than the hollow concept of the dark lord. magic was all around her, but in those pages and in the dusty illustrations she felt every spell. once a little girl who did not ask questions, flora became a fountain of confusions, mostly met with 'who told you that?'.

the frustration towards the younger twin only grew over time. flora's favourite game became a sort of hide and seek, where she'd hide somewhere in the house or the rest of the property, telling no soul or perhaps hestia, at times, and waiting until the screams with her name began. it was fascinating to count how long it took for her little world to notice her absence, how they'd react, how sometimes her mother would begin crying after some hours, how a relative or family friend might be called in to help scour the fields for the little girl. there was something powerful in observing annoyance, anger, and above all fear, yet control when it all starts, when it all ends. in a place strictly manipulated by the two gods of the house, this was when she turned the tables, even if just for a bit. eventually, however, concern faded away. by twelve, she could disappear for the longest stretches, as long as she returned without a speck of dirt and in time for lessons or dinner - and of course, if she didn't meet with anyone but the household.

as a sidenote, someone bring hestia, lets plot more then, cmON

HOGWARTS

before going to hogwarts, flora and hestia had gone to the usual parties and celebrations the purebloods so fancied, and some ministry events where they could be shown off like school projects. they hadn't, however, seen much more than that. the prospect of getting wands, robes, boarding on a train - all little things that identified them as beings, individuals who were more than just a name and affiliation - it meant the world for flora. she relished in the way the shop owner told her father he couldn't keep giving flora the wands the man suggested until the exact one he envisioned worked. she held her ticket with the care one touches thin glass. she walked around the train with a smile thrown at every other first year kid, even began conversations with some. some people in her year still tease her about how much she's changed since that day.

the hat placed on her head took a minute or so to decide, being pulled in the directions of slytherin and ravenclaw, but flora knew which answer would make her parents, two slytherin alumni, the most satisfied. now she wonders if the opposite choice would have positioned her in any way farther away from the heart of the conflict.

flora grew quite happy at hogwarts. the library was the stuff of dreams, the classes a fresh new world, and she'd been lucky enough (or so she'd thought) to have gone to school the same year as the boy who lived, a story that she could never quite believe, even with the boy sitting in class right in front of her. in many ways, flora saw herself as the observer of the perfect spectacle throughout the years, her journals serving as the proof that she'd been the face in the crowd of the myths. flora read other points of view at the library, and heard them in her common room, creating in her mind her own narrative of harry potter, of the war, of the carrows.

her personal library grew even more during school. the easy access to other kids and to hogsmeade resulted in trunks getting heavier and heavier every summer, even sometimes with muggle names she couldn't dare let her family see. to her, none of that ever mattered. words were words, no matter who wrote them, and all she cared about was what incredible tales they told and how they made her feel.

her studious nature thrived at hogwarts, and her grades, while not beyond impressive, were rather good. flora always loved potions above all. she did quite well at all subjects, but she got into the slughorn club not only because of her name, but because of her talent. it was the one thing that felt precise and rational when everything else wasn’t.

while she was a quiet figure, either lurking in some forgotten couch in the common room, on her bed, or beneath a tree, flora showed to the people at hogwarts something her parents only got inklings of. her words often carried venom, and her words an edge as sharp as a cut - a few people even got frontstage to what happened when flora carrow held too much of that poison in herself and it spilled out, the burning flame of anger, the way her voice would at last raise above a whisper.

her parents feared that spark they sometimes saw. she was becoming a volatile little thing, a disgrace upon their projects and a threat to the legacy they'd been so carefully building. a few months ago a discussion began over what to do, a very public one, as a way to instill fear in the girl: perhaps flora needed a proper marriage plan, just like her grandparents and just like far too many of her peers - someone who'd control her, who'd bring some much-needed coin to the family, someone to DISTRACT her. they did, after all, always know of her affection for hopelessly romantic tales, even if they'd never heard of any boy she'd daydream of (and they never would). perhaps flora needed a goal, a purpose like the oath other people from her school had taken upon, like her uncle and aunt before her. a good potioneer like her could become a valuable investment for the dark lord.

HEADCANONS

as much as flora hates to admit it, there’s this hunger for power in the back of her mind that she can’t shut down. she enjoys feeling important, like the name she carries or the blood in her veins places her higher in a contest for worthiness.

umbridge was a personal friend of her parents, and flora saw her as the intrusion of the manipulating hand she knew all summer in the few months she had of freedom. resenting it, she did the most to fail the class, being called to her office often to discuss how her parents would be embarrassed and how dolores believed she could do much better. she just barely finished it.

how does flora feel about the whole muggleborn ‘debate’? she never really cared about it. it was too removed from her. it never personally affected her. she didn’t go out of her way to bully and attack muggleborns or ‘blood traitors’, but she wouldn’t exactly tell others to stop. perhaps insist that she was bored and they should just leave. she never stopped to analyze why she did that sometimes. she just doesn’t care. in fact, all of the events of late seem to barely make an impression upon her, except when they come with the threat of her having to actively participate in it. flora sees the entire conflict as the mighty pureblooded families losing relevancy and trying their hardest to gain it back; a petty little thing - she doesn't, however, grasp the reality that people have died for it, and innocents have been murdered. the details require emotional introspect she does not possess.

she is !! practically mute but if u get her to talk u see bitch is actually very angry?? all the time?? hulk whomst.  angry and annoyed and detached

flora has a hard time grasping the emotional weight of events unless she's writing about them. ever since she can remember, flora has kept journals, parts of it accounts of her days, most of it short stories and poems that serve as practice writing and as a fictionalization of the harsh reality around her. reading dumbledore's murder or the murder of ministry officials little stories about the fragility of mankind and the shortcomings of magic simply makes it easier to understand and cope with.

she loves potions and books. her dream is to just be an old witch living in a forest cottage in wales with ten cats and an equally as quiet girlfriend, brewing the potions that take weeks to complete, writing poems she forgets to put away, the scent of lavender in the air almost sickening.

flora has a little garden at home which she loves with all her heart. she truly cares for her plants, despite how much on the nose that is with her name. at hogwarts she keeps a couple of small pots hidden in the greenhouse.

doesn't own a single pair of jeans or pants. will live her entire life in dresses and skirts and is just fine like that.

she thinks the people fighting against the death eaters are also stupid and cruel. literally takes the term neutral and turns it into apathy and will openly speak about it with that specific dosage of venom should she trust you enough.

your back hurts? your hair needs to grow faster? want to poison someone? flora will gladly brew little batches of potions in her spare time and sell them within school grounds.

lowkey needs a hug and someone who'll take the time to really listen to hER

she also likes to walk around at night, trying her best not to get caught at home by her parents and by prefects at school. it freaks people out when at 3am they hear footsteps and the light from a wand, even if just around the room or the common area. she likes the creepy factor, completely embraces it, people sometimes find her reading with her back to their front doors or doing homework behind some plants in the greenhouse. dark forgotten places are her places.

she has a cat, he’s old and ugly and his name is moros like the greek god of doom. he hates everyone, most times including flora. he's not a nice cat and she'd tear a man limb by limb for him.

flor is constantly writing. unfinished projects are her thing. poetry, prose, plays, journaling. poetry is what she usually dedicates herself most. she has an eye for rhythm in words, and feelings. everything she writes is always either too hopeful and naive, or pessimistic and sad. she doesn’t know an in-between. that goes to say for her life as well. flora dreams of all the pretty perfect pure things she knows aren’t real. all the well-intentioned kisses and soft pink flowery dresses flowing in the wind, and small cottages in the middle of a field and delicate generations old tea sets. this pristine romanticized aesthetic

on the other hand, when her writing is sad, it’s not just sad. it’s miserable. it’s worrying. she talks about that even less. all the scary intrusive thoughts that come to her mind. all the holes she can’t explain why she could never fill. all the numbness that attacks her some days and she can’t fight it back. this loneliness that makes no sense.

okay in a nutshell, she loves her sister more than anything and anyone in the world, she is more naive than she lets on, she doesn’t let on much because she’s so quiet, she loves books and has pretty hair. this wasn’t mentioned anywhere but she does.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON DIVINITY’S LEAD RAP, VOCAL PARK HANUI…

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Clara CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 23 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: Koala.T ETC: her positive reception early on have given her a greater number of commercial opportunities

IDOL IMAGE

Demure smiles, soft giggles, well-read, the image Koala.T Music paints of Hanui is a delicate, sophisticated one. She’s designed to be the motherly one, loving, giving, a little bit self-sacrificial, maybe. The type of person one might join for a cup of tea when the heart is heavy and needs to have its voice heard. The aim is to have her inspire trust and comfort, give her the air of someone grounded and put-together. She is versatile, fits cute and creepy both well and adds her own a bit more grown-up spin to it.

Upholding the image has never been the issue, Hanui knows how to sell a concept, but when looking at herself on camera she knows she is every little bit what her family wants her to be: chic, feminine and far away from competing with her brother’s highly successful career as an entrepreneur. She left home as per her mother’s wishes and hoped that she might find a way to break free on the way but instead, here she is: shackled to the same concept again. Of course, if she wanted real freedom the idol business isn’t and will never be the real place for it but that isn’t a thought that really occurred to her at the time.

Koala.T has been playing the long game with Divinity and she has been part of it ever since training made her a viable enough option for a spot in the group. She is far from being talented, her skills are all hard-earned through long hours of work but that and her supposedly grounded, sweet nature have given her a running start with the group’s fanbase. Her looks have most certainly to do with her good reception as well, Hanui is under no illusions. And no doubt the pretty face and popularity are what have been garnering her commercial work offers.

While she only promotes with the EVE subunit the prospects of CFs ensure that her face could still pop up frequently enough to remind the world of her existence, so the company has been very adamant about wanting her to invest in that path. Good enough for Hanui, who doesn’t mind the extra money. After all, if she can buy herself free from Koala.T Music eventually she’ll also be able to buy herself free from her own family.

IDOL HISTORY

Very few things in Hanui’s life have ever really been about choice. Being born into a rich nouveau riche household as the family youngest meant being the family’s princess and princesses rarely ever come with freedom. Her home is her golden cage and she is raised to be her father’s newest accessory, a darling daughter to match the beautiful trophy wife and prodigious son. They do paint a very quaint picture, the epitome of a loving and successful family. Now, as far as the cliché goes, there is always a hook, something dark buried behind the pleasant smiles. Except for there isn’t, not really. Hanui’s parents are loving, if a little oppressive, and her brother fiercely protective of her. To the little girl the gilded bars of her cage only look like shiny walls protecting her from the scary world she is told awaits her outside.

And then she grows and the cage seems to shrink. Liberties she had as a child are taken from her as she is expected to deliver more; “you need to keep up your grades, Hanui”, “mind your manners, Hanui”, “we must make father proud, Hanui”, “mother will be sad if you disobey, Hanui”. She feels cornered, her head inching closer to the ceiling with every year and by the time she is in her teens she wants more, more than parents who have this perfect idea of who she’ll become. She’ll study a short programme at a SKY university, she’ll marry one of her father’s business associate’s sons or maybe someone successful she meets while concluding her studies, she’ll have children and be the epitome of a serene, beautiful mother, much like her own. Little Hanui would’ve thought it a fairy tale. Life is easy, after all, when you don’t have to waste a thought on where you want to go. “You can focus on getting there instead,” mother tells her, brushing out her hair before bed. “I am sixteen now, I can do this myself,” she wants to tell her. She doesn’t. It’d break mother’s heart. “I will, mother. I promise.”

Her father looks disappointed when she declares that she’d like to study engineering. “That is not very becoming of such a beautiful young lady, Hanui.” When she asks why, he waves her off. “Engineering comes with a tough industry. Women don’t last long there. And a four-year degree will be wasted when you get married. You won’t have to work, father will find you a good husband. I pinky-promised, remember?” She doesn’t want the promise of a Prince Charming husband she received when she was eight. She wants the long nights up pouring over equations and materials, she wants the thrill of new discoveries, of learning to shape the world she wants it to be. Engineering sounds like a better husband than most men she knows anyway. “How about you ask mother to help you pick a more suitable field of study? It’s good you’re already thinking ahead, but you don’t have to do this on your own. We want to help you, lovebug. Please let us.” They’ve helped her all life long, Hanui wants to protest. She doesn’t.

Her mother is so excited about the scout approaching them, one might think that she’s the one being asked to join an entertainment company. Hanui listens with brows drawn together, not sure if she really trusts the woman chattering animatedly with her mother about the future she might have. “I’m still here, you know?” She wants to say. She doesn’t. Her mother signs her up for an audition without really asking, finds her last minute courses for singing and dancing so she won’t be so unprepared. “It’ll do you good, to get a bit off your butt and do something different than sticking your nose into books,” she explains cheerfully while brushing Hanui’s hair before bedtime. “Trust mother a little bit, yes, lovebug? We just want what is best for you and this is such an opportunity! Imagine, the lady said you could be on music shows and seeing the world if you do well!” There is no real if in that statement. Her mother picked her future like one might pick a pretty dress for a party and Hanui wouldn’t dare break her heart. Not when mother is so genuinely happy for her.

She doesn’t cry in front of her parents. Her brother, now a successful entrepreneur in his own right, is rarely at home but when he is, he is the one to take her aside, stroke her hair, hold her tight as she patches up her blistered feet, ices her shoulders, cries because trainee life is hell on earth and mother and father can’t know. Hanui isn’t good at this. She has to get better, she owes her parents after they invested money into her being able to become an idol trainee but it is so, so hard and she has no idea how to start. She knows it’s her good genetics that got her into the company. “You’re still young,” the vocal coach told her after her first (and very humiliating) vocal lesson. “You will have to work harder than your peers but if you do we might get you somewhere useful still.” Somewhere useful isn’t where she wants to be. Hanui wants the safety of her books, the knowledge that she won’t be ridiculed for her weight or for how awkward she looks in the mirror when dancing, that no one will hark on how she lacks flow when rapping. She wants the three hours of extra sleep she got before she had practices to attend after class. She wants time to spend with her friends at school. And for the first time she is being denied what she truly wants.

It gets better. It’s a cliché and she hates the phrase but it does. Maybe just because it gets easier, because she gets used to the constant fatigue and the scrutiny and the terrifyingly narrow cage she is stuck in. The gilded bars have long ceased to be interesting. But she finds ways to carve out a niche for herself, even if she has long since resigned herself to the fact that she will never be the best at anything. It’s a dull, sad conclusion she draws after years at the top. Her parents are blissfully unaware, only hear that she has been selected to be part of project Divinity and enthusiastically congratulate her. “Oh, lovebug, look at you! One step closer to your dreams!” Hanui doesn’t mention how it has never really felt like her dream. Whatever Koala.T Music has in mind for Divinity, it is a slow race with an equally slow build-up: song cover after song cover uploaded onto SNS start drawing them an audience to showcase the girls to. They’re an experimental project, she understands, and the inquisitive part of her thrives trying to understand the storyline they’re pushing, how every little puzzle piece starts becoming more important in retrospect. She is glad, it makes the prospect of portraying this narrative for the next few years more bearable, at the very least.

It’d be a lie to claim she isn’t deeply flattered by the positive reaction she receives to the part she plays. Interacting with fans makes her happy, gives her a sense of not being completely unmoored, even when she can’t compare to the other girls in terms of skill. It’s all a game, she tells herself, and playing the game is something she grows accustomed to. Her role is infuriatingly reminiscent of the fairy tale her parents dreamt up to her but it’s something she’s familiar with, something she knows how to deliver. So she pushes back the girl made of fire and stardust. Just for a little longer, she tells herself every day, refuses to think of how much time “a little longer” truly is.

Divinity debuts and it’s really not grandiose. No one is really surprised but Hanui still feels guilty when she sees her parent’s disappointment, embarrassment when she hears them tell their friends how they should give their music a go. “Our Hanui is part of that group!” She isn’t sure that really helps their case when she knows more than enough of her father’s friends never saw why she would choose idol life over university. If only they could stop. It’d save them a lot of grief if they did. The offer to star in a CF a bit over six months later comes a bit as a surprise, especially because it is an invitation extended to only her. And when Hanui thinks of herself in the future she can imagine doing this until she has enough money of her own to choose her own way.

Maybe by then she’ll finally be able to rid herself of her golden cage.