it's been cold for years, why don't you just let it lie.
Title: you just can't seem to shake the weight of living
Fandom: harry potter rpg
Characters: poppy greenwood, casper greenwood, oliver greenwood and cameron caddock
Warnings: mature, angsty
Summary: a in depth character study of one poppy greenwood
In their family, everyone has a favourite. Her mother loves Daisy the most, her father is closest to Casper. Noah and Daisy speak their own language and get each other. But she isn't really anyone's favourite. A little too troublesome, a little too angry, a little too everything.
Pathetic, poor Poppy. Cyclically forcing herself to stand apart from something she wanted so desperately to be apart of.
She starts to lock herself up in her room, slam doors, yell and then shut her door to tears.
Pathetic, poor, Poppy, she reprimands herself, aren't you ever going to learn?
She doesn't get along with Casper. But in the scheme of familial relations, she gets along with him the best. It isn't for lack of trying - on Casper's part at least. It's just that Poppy loves him. She loves him so darned ferociously that she doesn't know how to say it, much less show it. He doesn't like being teased, much less by his own sister and yet every single time she does something stupid, he stands there, by her side, picks her up, ties her shoe laces and says sorry.
Sorry.
Like its his fault.
And she loves him. She loves him for it and despite it. She doesn't know how to articulate how much she loves him when he continually, tirelessly, needlessly comes to her even when she shouts and screams and yells and hurts him.
And that's why she does it. Pushes and pushes and needles until he puts his hands up and takes a step back.
She wants to watch his retreating back with a smile and say, I broke him. I broke his love for me.
They say she is like her Mother. They tell her this and she watches her mother build a small castle with her younger brother and then laugh when he knocks it down.
She wonders why, if Creators made their Creations in their likeness, she is not like her mother at all. She doesn't know what to do with affection like her mother does, who wraps it around her like a shawl, curls her fingers into it tight and doesn't let go.
She watches her Mother love and she hates her for it.
She spent most of her childhood rebelling to a cause she didn't even understand. Casper was the quiet child, Daisy the beautiful one and Noah the delighted one. She wanted so desperately to be better than them, taller than them, angrier, smarter, prettier, louder, better, better, better, better.
She wanted to be most loved. The cherished.
But she didn't know what to do with it when she got it.
So she saw her family's affection like a fire, to be stifled, strangled and put out.
And yet it felt like an ocean that she was floundering in. And she would struggle and struggle to get ashore and they would look at her, sigh at her, oh Poppy, oh sister, oh girl why won't you let me love you.
Because I don't deserve it.
When she'd been small and her parents had only had the two of them, Poppy had wanted her Father's attention, perhaps because Casper had it.
Her father was so placid with his love and his attention and his care. And she so desperately wanted to be his little girl the way Daisy was. But the monopoly on his time was impossible. And she liked making him choose Daisy.
She was twelve years old when she made him, forced him, manipulated him into saying he liked Daisy better. She twisted it out of him, piecing together the bits of sentence until he didn't even know what he was saying, all the while wondering why she was doing this.
Because I can.
And later, when he tried to tuck her in, she turned from him.
'Only babies need their Dad's to tuck them in. I'm not a baby.'
He'd kissed her on the head and left.
The problem with Poppy is she reads people. Nothing she uses for good. A way to figure out people's weaknesses, the small wince when you say something that cuts their self confidence to ribbons. And she can see they mean well, that they want to help, that they want to love her and she waits for the opportunity to undo it. An exercise in self-ostracism.
She spends most of her teenage years trying to stop. Trying to stop herself from saying or doing things she knows will cause people pain but she can't, or more likely, doesn't want to.
It isn't until her 16th birthday, when she shoves Noah so hard, he scrapes his brow on his fall and has to get stitches and she watches her Father swoop in and pick him up and her Mother glare at her so ferociously that she feels a little bad.
Noah is nine and he thinks he's cool because of it, has a new scar, he's a superhero for surviving, but Poppy stares at him from the door while he sleeps off what 'could-be-a-concussion' but you wouldn't know with Noah because he's always talking like a nutter.
Her Father stops by her side and looks at her.
He doesn't say anything just looks at her for a long while until she mutters, what, without any of her usual venom.
Happy Birthday Poppy, he says quietly and then slips past her to wake Noah up for a bath.
She feels she's accomplished it, her goal, to be reviled, to be hated and she goes to her room and cries and cries and cries and cries feeling safe for the first time in her life.
She laughs. It doesn't even make any sense.
So she spends her sixth year trying to be like Casper, trying to be like Daisy and.. trying to love Noah.
And she gets a letter from her Mother, half way through the school year, with a note a the end:
'If you don't want to come back for Christmas, sweets, don't. You're seventeen now. If you don't want to spend it with family, we can't make you.'
So she says she can't make it. Studying. For non-existant exams.
Doesn't want to ruin it for them.
The morning of the Christmas train home, she mournfully walks down to the Great Hall to the single table and sees Casper eating toast and Daisy shoving a beanie she made on Noah's head and her youngest brother talking so fast Casper is just nodding and laughing.
They see her approach and they all go quiet, probably in wait of her shouting.
'Merry Christmas,' she mumbles and they all smile. A little.
She goes to find Casper in his common room that evening, thinks of how to say thank you without saying it, tries all these ridiculous speeches in her head until she stops short in front of him, frowns a little and then shrugs.
I love you will suffice for now.
Fandom: harry potter rpg
Characters: poppy greenwood, casper greenwood, oliver greenwood and cameron caddock
Warnings: mature, angsty
Summary: a in depth character study of one poppy greenwood
In their family, everyone has a favourite. Her mother loves Daisy the most, her father is closest to Casper. Noah and Daisy speak their own language and get each other. But she isn't really anyone's favourite. A little too troublesome, a little too angry, a little too everything.
Pathetic, poor Poppy. Cyclically forcing herself to stand apart from something she wanted so desperately to be apart of.
She starts to lock herself up in her room, slam doors, yell and then shut her door to tears.
Pathetic, poor, Poppy, she reprimands herself, aren't you ever going to learn?
She doesn't get along with Casper. But in the scheme of familial relations, she gets along with him the best. It isn't for lack of trying - on Casper's part at least. It's just that Poppy loves him. She loves him so darned ferociously that she doesn't know how to say it, much less show it. He doesn't like being teased, much less by his own sister and yet every single time she does something stupid, he stands there, by her side, picks her up, ties her shoe laces and says sorry.
Sorry.
Like its his fault.
And she loves him. She loves him for it and despite it. She doesn't know how to articulate how much she loves him when he continually, tirelessly, needlessly comes to her even when she shouts and screams and yells and hurts him.
And that's why she does it. Pushes and pushes and needles until he puts his hands up and takes a step back.
She wants to watch his retreating back with a smile and say, I broke him. I broke his love for me.
They say she is like her Mother. They tell her this and she watches her mother build a small castle with her younger brother and then laugh when he knocks it down.
She wonders why, if Creators made their Creations in their likeness, she is not like her mother at all. She doesn't know what to do with affection like her mother does, who wraps it around her like a shawl, curls her fingers into it tight and doesn't let go.
She watches her Mother love and she hates her for it.
She spent most of her childhood rebelling to a cause she didn't even understand. Casper was the quiet child, Daisy the beautiful one and Noah the delighted one. She wanted so desperately to be better than them, taller than them, angrier, smarter, prettier, louder, better, better, better, better.
She wanted to be most loved. The cherished.
But she didn't know what to do with it when she got it.
So she saw her family's affection like a fire, to be stifled, strangled and put out.
And yet it felt like an ocean that she was floundering in. And she would struggle and struggle to get ashore and they would look at her, sigh at her, oh Poppy, oh sister, oh girl why won't you let me love you.
Because I don't deserve it.
When she'd been small and her parents had only had the two of them, Poppy had wanted her Father's attention, perhaps because Casper had it.
Her father was so placid with his love and his attention and his care. And she so desperately wanted to be his little girl the way Daisy was. But the monopoly on his time was impossible. And she liked making him choose Daisy.
She was twelve years old when she made him, forced him, manipulated him into saying he liked Daisy better. She twisted it out of him, piecing together the bits of sentence until he didn't even know what he was saying, all the while wondering why she was doing this.
Because I can.
And later, when he tried to tuck her in, she turned from him.
'Only babies need their Dad's to tuck them in. I'm not a baby.'
He'd kissed her on the head and left.
The problem with Poppy is she reads people. Nothing she uses for good. A way to figure out people's weaknesses, the small wince when you say something that cuts their self confidence to ribbons. And she can see they mean well, that they want to help, that they want to love her and she waits for the opportunity to undo it. An exercise in self-ostracism.
She spends most of her teenage years trying to stop. Trying to stop herself from saying or doing things she knows will cause people pain but she can't, or more likely, doesn't want to.
It isn't until her 16th birthday, when she shoves Noah so hard, he scrapes his brow on his fall and has to get stitches and she watches her Father swoop in and pick him up and her Mother glare at her so ferociously that she feels a little bad.
Noah is nine and he thinks he's cool because of it, has a new scar, he's a superhero for surviving, but Poppy stares at him from the door while he sleeps off what 'could-be-a-concussion' but you wouldn't know with Noah because he's always talking like a nutter.
Her Father stops by her side and looks at her.
He doesn't say anything just looks at her for a long while until she mutters, what, without any of her usual venom.
Happy Birthday Poppy, he says quietly and then slips past her to wake Noah up for a bath.
She feels she's accomplished it, her goal, to be reviled, to be hated and she goes to her room and cries and cries and cries and cries feeling safe for the first time in her life.
She laughs. It doesn't even make any sense.
So she spends her sixth year trying to be like Casper, trying to be like Daisy and.. trying to love Noah.
And she gets a letter from her Mother, half way through the school year, with a note a the end:
'If you don't want to come back for Christmas, sweets, don't. You're seventeen now. If you don't want to spend it with family, we can't make you.'
So she says she can't make it. Studying. For non-existant exams.
Doesn't want to ruin it for them.
The morning of the Christmas train home, she mournfully walks down to the Great Hall to the single table and sees Casper eating toast and Daisy shoving a beanie she made on Noah's head and her youngest brother talking so fast Casper is just nodding and laughing.
They see her approach and they all go quiet, probably in wait of her shouting.
'Merry Christmas,' she mumbles and they all smile. A little.
She goes to find Casper in his common room that evening, thinks of how to say thank you without saying it, tries all these ridiculous speeches in her head until she stops short in front of him, frowns a little and then shrugs.
I love you will suffice for now.