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theunderdogwrites · 4 years

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Why I’d Make A Terrible Cult Member

In case you didn’t hear NXIVM founder and Ryan Gosling look-a-like, Keith Raniere,

was sentenced to 120 years in prison after being convicted of sex trafficking, racketeering and conspiracy after testimony that he had created a harem of sexual “slaves,” branded with his initials and kept in line with blackmail. There are currently two docu-series running right now (SEDUCED: INSIDE THE NXIVM CULT and THE VOW) that give you a chilling look into this cult. Both series are palatable and will have you saying – “How the hell did these people get pulled into a cult? Because from my couch I can tell you that would never happen to me!”

There is so much information out there about the NXIVM cult that I don’t feel the need to educate you on all their dastardly deeds. Instead, I want to ramble on about how the majority of us probably feel we could never be drawn in and held captive by a cult. Plus, after that election in the United States we could all use a wee laugh.

First…

The TOP FIVE Reasons WHY I’d Make A Terrible Cult Member

5. Terrible with Crowds

Does anyone really like crowds? Hoards of people gathering is a whole lot of stupid I just don’t want anywhere near me. Cults can’t survive without people. I suppose you could be a cult of one. If that is allowed, I want that. I brain-wash myself on a daily basis as is (‘Today is going to be awesome!’ ‘You absolutely do deserve a donut!’ ‘Drinking wine from a mug is considered sophisticated!’) so I feel I could make this work. Gym clothes are required clothing but will make an exception for all-day PJ’s on the rare Friday when I ‘just can’t even’.

4. Blindly Following Directions is Not My Strongest Quality

I am not a wanton rebel but I do fail (succeed) at being a part of a collective consciousness, especially where one person places themselves in charge of everyone else. While I don’t require for you to have degrees or letters of recommendations from heads of state, I must insist that you’re not a fascistic idiot. Also, you need to be a good person. Not just on the outside where you’re putting on a show for others, but on the inside where it really counts and shines through without you having to promote your intentions. There is just no way I am able to blindly follow directions from a person who I do not respect. And typically, I don’t respect anyone who craves and NEEDS control over a group of people, no matter the size, to make themselves whole. The bottom line here is: if you are this type of person and you attempt to snare me into your cult, I promise you I will be your problem child.

3. Isolation? Yes Please!

Cults wish to isolate you from your family and friends because then it becomes easier to indoctrinate you without any outside voices cluttering up your mind. Instead of isolating me from family and friends (who, I assure you would appreciate the break) it would be much more effective to separate me from my inside voices, of which there are many. Obviously, I am more attached to those voices than my family and friends and I bet my inside voices would eat your inside voices for breakfast, so if your intention is to try and control me you better be prepared for a fight similar to that of the Game of Thrones Battle of the Bastards. But seriously, I’m begging you… please isolate me from my inside voices. I could use some peace and quiet. This is a cry for help people!

2. Refusal to Have My Food Intake Monitored

The NXIVM cult preyed on women by forcing them to go to extreme measures in order to lose weight. They often had to take pictures of their food (counted and weighed on a scale) and ask permission to eat. Right away I’d have a serious problem with this bullshit. If I want a donut. I am going to eat a fucking donut. You want a picture of it? Ok, knock yourself out:

I’m eating this no matter your opinion.

I understand that withholding / limiting food (valuable protein, nutrients etc.) makes it easier to break someone down but just how far gone do you have to be to allow someone else to monitor and approve BY TEXT MESSAGE what you eat? I guess if we want to pull at this thread we can say organizations like WW, Jenny Craig and Nutrisystem “approve of” and even provide you with what they want you to eat in order to be successful if using their programs… and if I wanted to rip into them some more I could claim they are somewhat “cult-like”, but at least they don’t require naked, compromising photos of yourself just in case you fail to lose weight and they want to keep you accountable.

Confession time: when I go to a restaurant with friends and they want to “share” plates, I am not amused. Who the hell came up with this concept of “sharable plates”? If I want to order some crab cakes (usually two to a order) what makes you think I want to give you one in exchange for some of your fries? If I want fries, I will fucking order my own fries. Now that this secret is out… sorry to my friends who have politely forced me to share my food with them.

1. I Can’t Be Any More Brain-Washed Than I Already Am

BRAINWASHING: any method of controlled systematic indoctrination, especially one based on repetition or confusion.

Here’s a thought – we brainwash ourselves.

Well, first it’s our parents. And we don’t have much control over that for a long time. In that mix of original brainwashers is television with it’s cleverly made and repetitive commercials. We are being advertised AT from an early age and it’s a process that continues for our entire life. You don’t watch TV? Doesn’t matter if you own a cell phone or surf the web or have a pair of working eyes. It’s everywhere. You’re being convinced you need stuff. Or persuaded to believe in the magical powers that alcohol will give you (which through experience is NOT charm, grace or coordination). Just last week I realized I’ve been programmed to not give a flying fuck whenever I see a Kardashian. Or Mariah Carey. Or emails from Christian Mingle (please stop contacting me, you really don’t want this).

We brainwash ourselves into believing certain untruths in exchange for temporary happiness. I believe we all fall into this trap. Let’s be real and admit that life is fucking hard. Our collective goal is to be happy and to survive. If you need to convince yourself of some untruths for a short while in order to get through, you go right ahead. Just don’t let the lie take over your reality. It’s destructive. And you’ll miss out on how beautiful life can be if you don’t pull your head out of your own shit.

These two NXIVM documentaries really had me shaking my head in disbelief over just how these seemingly intelligent men and women fell for such a gigantic load of crap. To listen to this Keith Raniere speak and think to yourself “yes, here is a stable human being I want to follow who just happens to talk about how it would feel to rape a baby (it feels like nothing apparently) and requires us to kiss him on the lips when we say hello and goodbye” seriously puts your mental health into question. Am I right? Because I don’t actually know. Am I sitting in judgement of these cult members? Maybe just a little and that is simply because I believe myself to be… not smart, but not a total moron. Now having said that, I know that everyone is searching for spaces where they can belong. Where they feel comfortable enough to be themselves. Spaces that speak to them and people who mirror their desire to be better, do better. Their tribe, if you will.

If you were brand new to this planet and I told you about this activity that millions of people took part in, in some capacity, where they used a curved stick to chase around a hard rubber object on frozen water while wearing steel blades, you might give me a curious, tilted head look. You know, the one you give someone when you’re trying to determine whether or not they’re insane. Sports teams and especially their fans could be considered cult-like. Some people will shell out big $$$$ to attend the Super Bowl dressed head to toe in their team’s colors. Soccer fans in Europe have killed referees over what they felt was a bad call.

Look at this line-up:

This was for the release of the latest iPhone (12). All these people brought together by an inanimate object with the technology to make/receive phone calls, take photos, listen to your conversations and advertise to you across all your social media platforms. Oh, and it can tell you the time.

If you dig far enough into the NXIVM cult (beyond the “ring leaders” who profited financially and at the same time fed their perverted yearning for supremacy over others) you will inevitability come across people who were at their very core – lost. Lost and looking for purpose. Lost and looking for a place where they could belong. Lost and looking for something special. I don’t know about you, but when I am feeling lost and low on hope, I don’t always make the best decisions.

Time to go eat all the donuts.

And if you’re interested in making me a member of your cult, please PM me. I come with impeccable references as long as you don’t believe a word of what they’ll say. I really am a constant fucking delight.

#nxivm #keith raniere #ryan gosling #cults #donuts #iphone #lost #found

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chimin-ssi · 7 years

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A Confession

[ 1937 ]

Pairing;; Yoongi x Reader

Warnings;; None

Genre;; Angst

You couldn’t do this anymore.

You’ve been coping so well so far. So many weeks – months – passed with you feeling like this but you always managed to withhold them.

But tonight was different. Tonight he was too close, too real.

Too close.

Tonight your mind was chasing itself, running round and around in circles to a point where you couldn’t cope with it any longer. The feeling itself became too much.

If you didn’t say anything now, you felt like the words would force themselves out of you and leave you a mess of a person on the ground.

You stopped, eyes automatically falling onto your feet.He walked a little ahead of you, not you were no longer by his side.

Or maybe he ignored it.

“ Yoongi.”

Although it was your voice calling out, you never felt the words leave your lips. You stared at your hands, your slightly shaking hands that didn’t feel like your hands.

Were you always going to be this pathetic?

You lifted your gaze, cutting your train of thought. Your eyes automatically found Yoongi. They watched him as he continued to walk on, alone.

You watched him take those steps, allowing yourself a moment to simply take him in before everything would change. A few lonely seconds ticked by before he stopped and started to turn your way. You fisted your hands and immediately shoved them into your pockets.

You couldn’t let him see you like this.Not now.

Especially not now.

He let out a small breath, which became visible in the air.

A small puff of grey.

There was a gap between the two of you now.

It wasn’t a big one.

Maybe 10 small steps.

But it was a gap none the less.

A gap which you so very ached for him to close.

You let out a small sigh, lifting your gaze towards the clear night sky.

It was a Wednesday night.

A working night.

A night which resulted in the streets being mostly deserted, especially so deep into the night. However, there was the spare odd car or person here and there. The two of you were truly an exception.

An exception that was repeated on most working nights.

An exception which was caused by coming back from one of the meals you shared. Each night one of you would drag the other out for food; at exactly 2am each time. A meal before burying yourselves back in work. Now that you thought about it, what the two of you shared was honestly more like a sit-in takeout than an actual meal. Food bought from a small shop you wouldn’t have looked at twice if you were a passer-by at any other time, on any other day.

But it was a meal all the same, thanks to the company more so than the food.

“ Why are you just standing there?” His chuckle finally broke the silence. You looked up at him, his voice bringing you back to the present.

Your eyes lingered on him. He had his hands in the pockets of his coat, shielding them from the cool air. His face was softly lit by the light orange glow of the nearby streetlight, casting half of his face in a shadowy darkness while the other remained softly lit. His lips were slightly pulled into a small smile.

It was a tired smile, one you’ve seen often enough by now.

He smiled that way each time he labelled a beat as complete, song lyrics as finished. It was a smile of happiness, of content. It was a smile that made you smile.

And you did, your lips which began pulling at the corners acted as a trigger for your eyes to break contact and fall back down again.

Could you even do this? With him standing like that? Smiling like that?

A feeling rose in your chest; a slight pressure which you welcomed in.

It was a feeling which would make you feel oh-so-very stupid if not for the fact that you enjoyed it so much. It was a feeling which over-powered any common sense you might have had. Honestly, it scared you a little - not only because of how strong it was, but also because of how easily you indulged yourself it in – welcoming it in as if it belonged.

Each time you were alone with Yoongi or even looked at him for a little too long or a little too carefully, the sensation came.

It was like a game, a pathetic game that got especially worse in quiet situations such as these, with your mind unable to occupy or side-track itself with anything else but him.

What the two of you shared wasn’t big or grand, but it became something all the same. Something you could count on, knowing perfectly well that it would be there if you ever needed it. Knowing that he would be there whenever you needed him to be.

The ever-present pillar of support.

He and it became something you depended on for help, whether you realized it or not.

You couldn’t even exactly pin point how the thing you shared got so… much.

It started off with simple requests to look over a beat or a verse, to helping with said beat or verse.

Then it turned into sleepless nights at either studio or nights out with this group of friends or the other. It became something you were very comfortable with, to the point where the two of you shared and spoke of things neither had discussed to such extents with another person before.

Being around him felt so easy.

The silence that fell when the two of you were working was as comfortable and light as the conversations you shared over meals like the one you just had.

It was nice.

It was easy.

It worked.

At least, you thought so.

You hoped he did too.

‘’ Hey, ‘’ he called again, his voice alone forcing you to look up, ‘’ are you okay?’’

‘’ Yeah,’’ you smiled, making the few steps forward to close the gap.

You had never told him that you thought that way and came to think that you would die trying.

But keeping this feeling inside and unmentioned was becoming harder and harder, especially since it had been growing with each meal, with each night at either studio.

The two of you continued walking and although neither of you said anything else, you could feel his eyes resting on you. Only after a few steps did he focus on the street ahead of him.

There were a few times which had you believing that he felt for you what you feel for him. Each time the two of you would end up sitting beside each other in too tight of a space, legs and arms pressed against each other. When he would lean in a little too much to reach for something across the table, or say phrase a sentence a little too softly.

You even thought you caught him staring a few times while working, but you never called him out on it, not daring to.

Perhaps you should have.

You walked a little further in silence before Yoongi broke it, speaking up first.

‘’ Are you sure everything’s alright? You seem to be elsewhere today.’’

You didn’t answer him.

How could you?

How could you explain all of this to him? Was there even a way to do it?

‘’ At the studio I had to call your name three times before you looked at me, ‘’ he chuckled out, ‘’ and then while we ate. I’m still not too sure whether you heard me complaining about what Jin and Jungkook-ah were bickering about.’’

A smile softly spread across your lips, hidden behind your scarf.

About Jin’s snacks going missing.

‘’ Really Y/n, ‘’ he continued, eyes falling back to you, ‘’ if you want to call it a night, I’ll have someone drop you off at-‘’

‘’ No, really, ‘’ you started, turning to lock eyes with him, ‘’ I’m okay…’’

He looked at you.

You tried to bare the gaze. To hold it.

But you broke under the pressure, eyes falling back to your feet.

‘’ You’re not okay, I can see you’re not-‘’

‘’Its just, ‘’ you started, stopping again.

This time he stopped walking the moment you did.

You dug your nails into your palms. What were you doing?!

You looked up at him, finding his dark eyes looking right back at you. His gaze was warm and friendly and you held onto it. The feeling in your chest, the pressure, it became too much.

You couldn’t just ignore it anymore. If it wasn’t today, then it was never.

And never was an awful word who’s meaning you couldn’t bare.

So it was today.

It was now.

‘’ I like you Yoongi.’’

For a horrible second, nothing happened. His expression didn’t alter, his lips didn’t curl up into a smile and he didn’t say anything. The words just hung in the air, like shattered glass waiting to fall. Everything felt horrible and for a moment you felt exposed, as if everything would come crashing down within moments.

But then he smiled, eyes slightly scrunching up.

‘’ I like you too, you’re one of my closest-‘’

‘’ No Yoongi, ‘’ you said, frowning. It took everything in you to interrupt him, to make him realize the weight of the words you had just spoken.

The confession.

‘’ I like you Yoongi. ‘’ Your voice hitched a little, but you hoped, prayed that he would see you.

Hear you.

‘’ Oh. ‘’ He said, looking at you with parted lips and a small frown.

‘’ Oh. ‘’ With the repeated word came a step back.

A step that killed you.

Your gaze fell onto your feet again and you felt your heart shatter inside of your hollowness that repeated his 2 lettered word.

Oh.

‘’ I’m sorry.’’ You whispered, voice muffled by your scarf. You couldn’t even hear the whispered apology and you doubted very much that Yoongi could hear it.

You wanted to disappear. You shouldn’t have said anything.

How stupid of you.

What did you expect would happen? That he’d say the same words back? That he felt for you what you feel for him?

Stupid.

The awful silence dragged on and with each minute that passed you wanted to disappear that much more.

‘’ I’m.. ‘’ He suddenly said, finally looking up at you.

You didn’t dare meet his gaze, but you felt his eyes on you.

‘’ I’m incredibly humbled by your words, really, ‘’ his tone wasn’t hard, ‘’ it’s just… ‘’

His voice trailed off, but after a small sigh Yoongi continued.

‘’ Its just that I thought we were work friends.’’

Word Friends.

Did work friends do what the two of you done?

Did ‘work friends’ spend time with eachothers friends, the way the two of you had? Did ‘work friends’ go out to late night dinners in between working slots the way the two of you do? Did apparent work friends talk about subject the two of you talked about, or even confessed and discussed eachothers lives as thoroughly and deeply as you and Yoongi had?

You didn’t know.

But you did know that you had never had such a ‘work friend’ like Yoongi ever before.

‘’ Work friends.’’ You whispered, tone laced with defeat.

‘’ Yea. ‘’ Yoongi mumbled out, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

‘’ Okay. ‘’ You answered, starting to walk again.

@shoutingink @jeaneteflo @infiresjimin @mykookiechimchim @baeni @connatellohamato @minsugarkookie @letters-and-lemons @darkangelssoul @coletteisaprincess @teddybearmuke @wingedtragedywriter @mrsrealmadrid @jochelle @ravencacaw @atlantist5959 @yoong-no @jungcooked @kpaxlyra @guacj @sashmellouw

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handandbanner · 6 years

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recovering from my lies & men lying while imagining truth-telling spaces

Artist: Carrie Mae Weems

I know we all lie and I know I lie. I'm trying to practice truth-telling. Truth-telling is a practice and it is not a supported practice. We are taught to lie from the time we are young children as a required skill of living and thriving in white supremacist, capitalist, patriarchy. So there has to be a way for us as folks tied into systems of deception, as lairs to critique and dismantle systems of deceptions that require deception as part of our dehumanizing participation and survival. It's like we all participate in degrading the environment, but we still need to be environmental activists demanding better from those in power and system creating positions while also trying to adopt better personal practices.

A way that we are taught to lie and we teach children to lie is to insist that the things they see are not really there, to convince them that their experiences are not real and if they are to name the world as they experience it, then something is wrong with them.

One of the areas that I have been able to develop a practice of truth telling is in the topic of race and white supremacy. I have tried my hardest to root my work life and practice in spaces where I could tell truth about how I was experiencing my social reality, and that meant being around other Black people and people of shared values and working in the grassroots. But whenever I have had to engage the system my truth-telling practices with regards to race and racism are challenged and constrained. Having to work a system job as a frontline social worker, I have already experienced constraints to who I can be and the pressure to be the person I was trained to be under systems of domination rather the person I truly am in order to stay employed. So it would take time again to cultivate spaces for truth-telling with regards to race and racism, I have achieved this with some co-workers and have had honest discussions, I have not achieved it with management and I am very aware of the limits to what truth would be acceptable. It is not something I have had to really confront because my role does not require me to be in significant interaction with management. I have felt a bit of respite being in a space with a non-leadership role. But if my journey involves staying in mainstream social work, I know the truth-teller with regards to race and ethnicity will emerge, and I know the trauma that happens to Black women leaders in social work who practice truth-telling with regards to race and ethnicity, I have read the studies and I have witnessed it.

It has also been interesting to observe how aware I am of the practice space I have created in the grassroots, because this past year working with other co-practitioners, I found myself advising folks to be cautious in how they express their truth, in practice spaces that I perceive to be hostile in awareness of how we could be collectively impacted. I have had to deconstruct and wrestle with that since and it has just emphasized for me the reality of truth-telling as more than a personal practice but also as collective structure building, creating spaces where truth is possible. So while I really value what I have been able to cultivate as a practice of telling truth to others and to power especially as it relates to social justice, I also continue to navigate how my truth-telling practice is going to face opposition, be it in the space of anti-racist food justice within the context of a racist, capitalist institution, or in the space of social work or in trying to practice decolonized faith, because I am dealing constantly with systems that uphold deception.

I have less experience of developing a practice of truth-telling and truth-telling space in areas other than racial justice. And recently I have been thinking about Patriarchy because I am recovering from both long term, chronic and acute patriarchal and misogynistic harm. I have had to realize that I don’t know how to tell the truth about patriarchy just like I didn’t know how to tell the truth about racism some years ago but had to stumble and erupt into it, pushed by the trauma and my disposition towards wanting to tell the truth and wanting to be free. So I believe I am going to be entering a season of truth-telling about patriarchy.

Something that I can already say, is that while we are all complicit in lying, men lie aggressively and constantly. I am not talking about some men or the abusive men in my life, I am talking about every man I have ever known. In the same way that white people have a particular relationship with lying, men are deeply dependent on deception. And I have just been coming to the realization that I have been witnessing men lie all my life, including men that I respect as leaders. I have been witnessing men become particularly angry at the truth and be unable to handle the truth. All of the position of power and privilege that men hold in patriarchal society is rooted in lying. Men lie about the fact that they don’t depend on women’s labour and suffering to sustain themselves at the cost of women’s health. Some acknowledge it verbally and even identify as allies is women’s liberation from patriarchy but continue to lie in action as they live out their lives. Men lie about what they take from women, the act of lying is an act of taking something by force. Men are become terrified and lash out violently when called out about lying, they lash out through abandonment or aggression. There is a power in lying that men are not ready to let go of, they have learned that it is their right to live a dual reality. All my life I have seen men scared. I know what it looks like when a man becomes scared and confused by my truth-telling. Men tend to be intrigued by my truth-telling because there is power in truth-telling and they are drawn to power like insects to a street light. But I am constantly being invited into an unspoken agreement that the truth-telling will not be turned on them. As a survivor of childhood and adult gendered harm, I have learned to play the game. I have also learned to lie alongside men. I treat men like dangerous animals that cannot be told the truth, the same way you would handle a moody toddler who needs to be guided from point A to point B without being exposed to the reality of the world as it is. The difference being that men all my life have had far more power than a moody toddler, power to harm and to abandon. To withhold friendship, love, resources or to punish mentally, physically, psychologically, emotionally or spiritually.

I have searched through my shelf in search for All About Love because I remembered that our brilliant, incandescent bell Hooks has a chapter on the subject where she says;

“The men I have loved have always lied to avoid confrontation or take responsibility for inappropriate behavior. In Dorothy Dinnerstein’s groundbreaking book The Mermaid and the Minotaur: Sexual Arrangements and Human Malaise, she shares the insight that when a little boy learns that his powerful mother, who controls his life, really has no power within a patriarchy, it confuses him and causes rage. Lying becomes one of the strategic ways he can “act out” and render his mother powerless. Lying enables him to manipulate the mother even as he exposes her lack of power. This makes him feel more powerful. Males learn to lie as a way of obtaining power and females not only do the same but they also lie to pretend powerlessness. In her work Harriet Lerner talks about the way in which patriarchy upholds deception, encouraging women to present a false self to en and vice versa. In Dory Hollander’s 101 Lies men Tell Women, she confirms that while both women and men lie, her data and the findings of other researchers indicate that “men tend to lie more and with more devastating consequences.” For many young males the earliest experience of power over others comes from the thrill of lying to more powerful adults and getting away with it. Lots of men shared with me that it was difficult for them to tell the truth if they saw that it would hurt a loved one. Significantly, the lying many boys learn to do to avoid hurting Mom or whomever becomes so habitual that it becomes hard for them to distinguish a lie from the truth. This behavior carries over to adulthood.

Often, men who would never think of lying in the workplace lie constantly in intimate relationships. This seems to be especially the case for heterosexual men who see women as gullible. Many men confess that they lie because they can get away with it, their lies are forgiven. To understand why male lying is more accepted in our lives we have to understand the way in which power and privilege afforded men simply because they are males within a patriarchal culture”

lt is interesting to me that I read this almost a couple of years ago with very little self reflection. So I need to pay attention to the ways that even as I continue to grow truth-telling practices in race relationships, that I have yet to interrogate how lying is a part of my ways of navigating life in my gendered relationships. It already comes to mind that I seldom with men or patriarchal relationships with women, present myself in the fullness of my intellectual power and ability for fear of punishment. Beyond all that good reflection work that I know needs to happen for me as it relates to interpersonal relationships, some questions I feel like we all need to ponder are:

- What does it mean to create truth telling anti-patriarchy community, spaces and institutions? What does it mean to have a space where truth-telling is cultivated and supported in diverse relationships? I will continue to stumble and erupt as I come to terms with all the ways my own life is impacted by lying and lies and also as I recover from patriarchal harm and violence. I look forward to learning from others further along in the journey.

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xippi-blog1 · 7 years

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[Multi-paragraph, novella] [Requirement/plot: I am looking for someone to play the step-sister; despite the abuse she goes through from the family and mainly her step mother, she is always smiling and kind towards those around her. However, what if that was all a facade? I want you to be able to portray the feelings hatred that she harbours towards those in the family who hurt her, but also the innocence and hurt that she shows towards said members. At the start of this rp, she has to maintain her innocence and kindness - something that attracts the brothers despite their different ways of presenting such love. But also the kind of innocence and kindness that irritates the mother and causes her to hurt her out of jealousy and fear that she will seduce her sons and turn them against her. Which /will/ happen, but later in the rp when the mother attempts to murder y/c late at night. After the attempted murder everyone notes your disappearance and the mother tries to keep it a secret (you will play the mother often - but I will lead on occasions, so I won't be juggling 3 characters +the mother). This is when y/c makes her return! Except she is different now. Cold hearted and broken. And the only thing on her mind after surviving the attempted murder is vengeance. Even if it means to kill off one of her son's in a way that makes it seem that it was the mother herself - when the time comes, I shall explain. This arises conflict within the innocent Edward as he notices this change in his sister, and his heart broken. The mother, ridden in guilt and fear, convinced that she had killed the daughter and this was all just some sort of witchery or hallucination is riddled to madness and soon her son's notice their mother's true nature and find themselves unconsciously being drawn to [y/c]....] [Genre: victorian era/psychology/gore/drama] - Young Edward could remember the days of torment that [y/c] had so suffer through in the past. Mainly because such torment was inflicted on her by her elder brothers almost a decade ago, and they had continued to do so till this day. And though he had never really lay a hand upon her form in a hurtful or abusive manner, he would always watch. Being the youngest of the three brothers, Edward never really learned how to stand up for what he believed in, he would always simply follow in their steps. Forcing out laughter, that he really did not want to present when they would abuse sister [y/c]. He had always felt... badly about it. Though unlike him, Rupert and the eldest of the three, Oliver, were boys who had always been confident in themselves and their actions. And whilst the ringleader of this little bullying circle was the 2nd eldest son, Rupert. Oliver was always the one that carried himself the best. Always so mysterious... The way he would keep to himself and sneak into [y/c]'s room more often than not to have conversations with her had always perked a curiousity in the young boy. Now, at the age of 16 and Edward could be found within his room - as always - painting a beautiful portrait. A young girl with beautiful fair hair and porcelain, doll-like skin. A gentle smile caressing her features despite the dark shades of colour he used to empathise the sadness in her eyes. " [Y/c]... You've always been so kind and gentle no matter whom it is that hurts you.. " he would whisper to himself. Letting his hands move swiftly across the canvas as he would continue to work on his 7th portrait of her. His brows arching back in guilt though his eyes would stare passionately past the curtains before him and into the garden where he could see his beloved step sister. ~-~ Rupert seemed to be poking fun at the female as usual. His mouth parted as he released loud, unkind laughter at the fallen female that he had just pushed before lightly tugging at her hair for her to get up. " You've always been so fragile, sister [y/c]~ ! " the boy would snicker. Mid-long wavy blonde hair being pushed back smoothly by one large hand as his azure orbs would lock onto the smaller figure as he would then let go and hop back with a smile, " I love you, sis~ ". He would then say, flashing a large grin, as if oblivious to his abuse towards the girl. ~-~ At the display before him, the timid and youngest of the three brothers would clench his hands around the brush in his hand before dropping his arms by his side as he lowered his head, almost looking as if he were trembling from the frustration of being unable to do anything. He loved her. He always had. He loved her more than like a 'brother' and he knew these feelings were also shared by Rupert. You see, Rupert's constant harassment and abusive/mocking behaviour was a way to show the romantic and sexual feelings he had for [y/c]. And though it hurt him to see the other hurt [y/c] because of it, it only hurt him even more knowing the meaning behind his actions. A slow, hollow sigh left Edward's pale pink, plump lips. And as if on queue the door to his room swung open. In a panic, the short haired blonde quickly rose to his feet as he quickly reached forward to pick up the large canvas and try to hurry over towards the large curtains cascading over the window in an attempt to hide the portrait, " w-wait don't come in. " he would call out, in an attempt to slow the intruder only to hear a half hearted laugh. ' Oliver! ' Oliver would continue forth, his tall figure standing at an impressive 6', though his features unlike the other two brothers were quite different. In fact, completely different. He had medium long hair which cascaded just over his shoulders, the back upper half of his luscious dark locks were tied into a pony tail and his bangs were pushed to one side almost in an elegant manner. A smirk forever plastered on his features whenever he spoke, " why're you hiding your painting, my dear little brother~ ? I already know what it is~ " Oliver would call out - well, almost coo. Glancing back at the confident male, Edward turned a little pink as he watched the other quickly approach him and quickly lay the painting aside as he tried to block his path, " y-you're bluffing..! And why are you in my room, Oliver?! Mother told you to knock on my door before you force your way in..! ". he blurted out. Being easily pushed aside by the taller male as he watched him swiftly bend down slightly to pick up the freshly painted canvas. " And what are you going to do, little brother~ ? Tattle on me like always? I doubt Sister would find that /manly/. " he would tease. Looking down at the painting as he fell silent for a moment, gazing into [y/c]'s eyes. ' How... realistic. ' the dark haired male thought. Though was quick to brush off his amazement at how quick the boy was to learn how to capture such deeply webbed emotions inside [y/c]'s eyes. His own gaze returning over to his little brother as he would laugh, " what's this~ ? /Another/ portrait of our little sister? ". Edward's cheeks lit up as he tilted his head back, looking down at the other, withholding his frustration towards the other's authority over him before clenching his hands into tight fists as he stuttered, " t-that's... Be quiet.. ". " Ohoo~ ? Baby-Edward, are you blushing? Oh, you perverted little boy. Don't tell me you painting pictures of our sister is your kind of 'release', is it? " he would tease. At this point the blonde boy was so flustered and embarrassed by this humiliation he had to face from his older brother that he simply lowered his head and fell silent. Catching onto this, Oliver set the portrait of [y/c] aside and sighed softly as he reached forward and ruffled his hair, " oh, come on. I was only kidding. But honestly, you'll never get her to notice you if you keep locking yourself away in this room. You ought to show her your paintings some time, I'm sure that would /really/ tug at her heartstrings. ". Glancing up at him, Edward seemed a little surprised by the support, " r..really..? You think she would like them? ". " Well, either that, or she'll think you're a complete utter weirdo who paints pictures of her despite having never striked an actual conversation with her for the past 10 years she's been living with us, haha~ ". Flushed, Edward snapped at the other and pointed over at the door, " leave, Oliver. Just leave. I don't even know what part of you to believe anymore. " he huffed. Oliver grinning at his brother's poutyness before shrugging, " well, alright then, my adorable little brother~ I've come to tell you that dinner will be ready soon~ So you ought to get changed into something more appropriate to the dinner table. " he would say. And with that, the door to his room creaked shut and he was once more left isolated within the comforts of his room and the many different paintings and portraits he had modeled after his sister. ' I..It's not that strange, is it..? B-besides, it's not like she's /actually/ my sister.. ' he thought to himself, almost reassuringly. And with that would return the canvas on its display stand to let it dry faster by the window... - Dinner was soon due and the three brother's would part from their activities before heading downstairs to the grand dining room and take their usual seats at the dinner table. [Y/c]'s seat the one beside Rupert at the far end of the table and opposite her step mother. And besides her step mother sat young Edward, whom also sat beside the eldest brother, Oliver. As everyone took to their seats, the mother would then speak up once their plates of food was placed before them. Her thin brows raising sternly as she looked down at her step daughter, " so, [y/c], you seem to be rather quiet today, why is that? " she would ask. Though the question wasn't out of concern. Oh god no. In fact, her step mother - as cliche as it may sound - was the main cause to [y/c]'s misery. She was a horrid woman, whom ever since her father's death had turned on the daughter and abused in every possible way. Out of what malice? No one knew. Perhaps it was jealousy? Perhaps it was disgust... Either way, it didn't matter, because it is what it is. The brother's on the other hand, were completely oblivious of their mother's cruel behaviour towards the young girl. All except Oliver. You see, Oliver knew a lot of things. Things that perhaps even his mother did not think he could possibly have known about. Edward, was always oblivious to his mother's cruel ways. And Rupert only ever assuming that his mother was just strict - since she was stern to all of them, but also very loving. And based on the act of kindness she displayed on different occasions, he always assumed that the same went for [y/c]...

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