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miss-maela · 5 years

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Why am I drawn to them?! I found another one to rescue, but this time I realized it before I got in too deep.

14 Signs You're Dealing With A Narcissist

Dr. Margalis Fjelstad

When it comes to determining whether someone you know is a narcissist, most people make it more complicated than it needs to be. I use the duck test—that is, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck. There are no physical blood tests, MRIs, or exact determinations that can identify narcissism. Even therapists have to go on their observations of the behavior, attitudes, and reactions that a person presents to determine narcissism.

What makes it simple is the fact that we know exactly what a narcissist looks like. Below, I've listed all the symptoms and behaviors you should look for. Keep in mind that not all of these have to be present to make a determination of narcissism. According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, which therapists use as a guide, a person needs to exhibit only 55 percent of the identified characteristics to be considered narcissistic. The list I've made here is descriptive, so you can get a more in-depth picture of a narcissist’s common behaviors.

1. Superiority and entitlement

The world of the narcissist is all about good/bad, superior/inferior, and right/wrong. There is a definite hierarchy, with the narcissist at the top—which is the only place he feels safe. Narcissists have to be the best, the most right, and the most competent; do everything their way; own everything; and control everyone. Interestingly enough, narcissists can also get that superior feeling by being the worst; the most wrong; or the most ill, upset, or injured for a period of time. Then they feel entitled to receive soothing concern and recompense and even the right to hurt you or demand apologies to “make things even.”

2. Exaggerated need for attention and validation

Narcissists need constant attention—even following you around the house, asking you to find things, or constantly saying something to grab your attention. Validation for a narcissist counts only if it comes from others. Even then, it doesn’t count for much. A narcissist’s need for validation is like a funnel. You pour in positive, supportive words, and they just flow out the other end and are gone. No matter how much you tell narcissists you love them, admire them, or approve of them, they never feel it’s enough—because deep down they don’t believe anyone can love them. Despite all their self-absorbed, grandiose bragging, narcissists are actually very insecure and fearful of not measuring up. They constantly try to elicit praise and approval from others to shore up their fragile egos, but no matter how much they’re given, they always want more.

3. Perfectionism

Narcissists have an extremely high need for everything to be perfect. They believe they should be perfect, you should be perfect, events should happen exactly as expected, and life should play out precisely as they envision it. This is an excruciatingly impossible demand, which results in the narcissist feeling dissatisfied and miserable much of the time. The demand for perfection leads the narcissist to complain and be constantly dissatisfied.

4. Great need for control

Since narcissists are continually disappointed with the imperfect way life unfolds, they want to do as much as possible to control it and mold it to their liking. They want and demand to be in control, and their sense of entitlement makes it seem logical to them that they should be in control—of everything. Narcissists always have a story line in mind about what each “character” in their interaction should be saying and doing. When you don’t behave as expected, they become quite upset and unsettled. They don’t know what to expect next, because you’re off script. They demand that you say and do exactly what they have in mind so they can reach their desired conclusion. You are a character in their internal play, not a real person with your own thoughts and feelings.

5. Lack of responsibility—blaming and deflecting

Although narcissists want to be in control, they never want to be responsible for the results—unless, of course, everything goes exactly their way and their desired result occurs. When things don’t go according to their plan or they feel criticized or less than perfect, the narcissist places all the blame and responsibility on you. It has to be someone else’s fault. Sometimes that blame is generalized—all police, all bosses, all teachers, all Democrats, and so on. At other times the narcissist picks a particular person or rule to blame—his mother, the judge, or laws that limit what he wants to do. Most often, however, the narcissist blames the one person who is the most emotionally close, most attached, loyal, and loving in his life—you. To maintain the façade of perfection, narcissists always have to blame someone or something else. You are the safest person to blame, because you are least likely to leave or reject him.

6. Lack of boundaries

Narcissists can’t accurately see where they end and you begin. They are a lot like 2-year-olds. They believe that everything belongs to them, everyone thinks and feels the same as they do, and everyone wants the same things they do. They are shocked and highly insulted to be told no. If a narcissist wants something from you, he’ll go to great lengths to figure out how to get it through persistence, cajoling, demanding, rejecting, or pouting.

7. Lack of empathy

Narcissists have very little ability to empathize with others. They tend to be selfish and self-involved and are usually unable to understand what other people are feeling. Narcissists expect others to think and feel the same as they do and seldom give any thought to how others feel. They are also rarely apologetic, remorseful, or guilty.

But narcissists are highly attuned to perceived threats, anger, and rejection from others. At the same time, they are nearly blind to the other feelings of the people around them. They frequently misread subtle facial expressions and are typically biased toward interpreting facial expressions as negative. Unless you are acting out your emotions dramatically, the narcissist won’t accurately perceive what you’re feeling. Even saying “I’m sorry” or “I love you” when the narcissist is on edge and angry can backfire. He won’t believe you and may even misperceive your comment as an attack.

In addition, if your words and expressions aren’t congruent, the narcissist will likely respond erroneously. This is why narcissists often misinterpret sarcasm as actual agreement or joking from others as a personal attack. Their lack of ability to correctly read body language is one reason narcissists are deficiently empathetic to your feelings. They don’t see them, they don’t interpret them correctly, and overall they don’t believe you feel any differently than they do.

Narcissists also lack an understanding about the nature of feelings. They don’t understand how their feelings occur. They think their feelings are caused by someone or something outside of themselves. They don’t realize that their feelings are caused by their own biochemistry, thoughts, and interpretations. In a nutshell, narcissists always think you cause their feelings—especially the negative ones. They conclude that because you didn’t follow their plan or because you made them feel vulnerable, you are to blame.

This lack of empathy makes true relationships and emotional connection with narcissists difficult or impossible. They just don’t notice what anyone else is feeling.

8. Emotional reasoning

You’ve probably made the mistake of trying to reason and use logic with the narcissist to get him to understand the painful effect his behaviors have on you. You think that if he understands how much his behavior hurt you, he’ll change. Your explanations, however, don’t make sense to the narcissist, who only seems able to be aware of his own thoughts and feelings. Although narcissists may say they understand, they honestly don’t.

Therefore, narcissists make most of their decisions based on how they feel about something. They simply must have that red sports car, based entirely on how they feel driving it, not by whether it is a good choice to make for the family or for the budget. If they’re bored or depressed, they want to move or end the relationship or start a new business. They always look to something or someone outside themselves to solve their feelings and needs. They expect you to go along with their “solutions,” and they react with irritation and resentment if you don’t.

9. Splitting

The narcissist’s personality is split into good and bad parts, and they also split everything in their relationships into good and bad. Any negative thoughts or behaviors are blamed on you or others, whereas they take credit for everything that is positive and good. They deny their negative words and actions while continually accusing you of disapproving.

They also remember things as completely good and wonderful or as bad and horrible. They can’t seem to mix these two constructs:

Marty labeled the whole vacation ruined and the worst ever because the hotel room didn’t meet his expectations and the weather wasn’t perfect. Bob was blamed for 20 years because he wasn’t there when his wife had their first child even though he was stranded in Chicago in a snowstorm. Marie’s husband dismissed her concerns about the $30,000 cost for the new landscaping because he loved it.

Narcissists aren’t able to see, feel, or remember both the positive and the negative in a situation. They can deal with only one perspective at a time—theirs.

10. Fear

The narcissist’s entire life is motivated and energized by fear. Most narcissists’ fears are deeply buried and repressed. They’re constantly afraid of being ridiculed, rejected, or wrong. They may have fears about germs, about losing all their money, about being emotionally or physically attacked, about being seen as bad or inadequate, or about being abandoned. This makes it difficult and sometimes impossible for the narcissist to trust anyone else.

In fact, the closer your relationship becomes, the less he will trust you. Narcissists fear any true intimacy or vulnerability because they’re afraid you’ll see their imperfections and judge or reject them. No amount of reassurance seems to make a difference, because narcissists deeply hate and reject their own shameful imperfections. Narcissists never seem to develop trust in the love of others, and they continually test you with worse and worse behaviors to try to find your breaking point. Their gripping fear of being “found out” or abandoned never seems to dissipate.

11. Anxiety

Anxiety is an ongoing, vague feeling that something bad is happening or about to happen. Some narcissists show their anxiety by talking constantly about the doom that is about to happen, while some hide and repress their anxiety. But most narcissists project their anxiety onto their closest loved ones, accusing them of being negative, unsupportive, mentally ill, not putting them first, not responding to their needs, or being selfish. All this is designed to transfer anxiety to the loved one in an attempt to not feel it themselves. As you feel worse and worse, the narcissist feels better and better. In fact he feels stronger and more superior as you feel your anxiety and depression grow.

12. Shame

Narcissists don’t feel much guilt because they think they are always right, and they don’t believe their behaviors really affect anyone else. But they harbor a lot of shame. Shame is the belief that there is something deeply and permanently wrong or bad about who you are. Buried in a deeply repressed part of the narcissist are all the insecurities, fears, and rejected traits that he is constantly on guard to hide from everyone, including himself. The narcissist is acutely ashamed of all these rejected thoughts and feelings. For example, I had one narcissistic client who was into skydiving and other intense risk-taking behaviors tell me that he never felt fear. “Fear,” he said, “was evil.” He was clearly on a crusade to defeat it.

Keeping his vulnerabilities hidden is essential to the narcissist’s pretend self-esteem or false self. Ultimately, however, this makes it impossible for them to be completely real and transparent.

13. An inability to be truly vulnerable

Because of their inability to understand feelings, their lack of empathy, and constant need for self-protection, narcissists can’t truly love or connect emotionally with other people. They cannot look at the world from anyone else’s perspective. They’re essentially emotionally blind and alone. This makes them emotionally needy. When one relationship is no longer satisfying, they often overlap relationships or start a new one as soon as possible. They desperately want someone to feel their pain, to sympathize with them, and make everything just as they want it to be. But they have little ability to respond to your pain or fear or even your day-to-day need for care and sympathy.

14. An inability to communicate or work as part of a team

Thoughtful, cooperative behaviors require a real understanding of each other’s feelings. How will the other person feel? Will this action make both of us happy? How will this affect our relationship? These are questions that narcissists don’t have the capacity or the motivation to think about. Don’t expect the narcissist to understand your feelings, give in, or give up anything he wants for your benefit; it’s useless.

#narcissist #narcissism #maela

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newyorktheater · 5 years

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Stephanie J. Block as “Star” Cher

Bryan Cranston

Lauren Ridloff from Children of a Lesser God

My ten favorite individual human performances in New York stage shows that opened in 2018 are listed alphabetically, with explanations for my choices largely excerpted from my reviews, but let’s begin with a few noteworthy ensembles:

The cast of Dance Nation showed us what it’s like to be an adolescent girl, though the actresses were as old as 60.

Noah Robbins and Edmund Donovan in Clarkston

The six performers of Lewiston/Clarkston confess, kiss and fight literally inches away from the audience

The two dozen actors of The Ferryman, most making their Broadway debuts, are all terrific, believable even when the play takes a turn into fantasy, especially the ones charged with taking care of the live baby, bunny, and goose that accompanies them on stage nightly.

The 1,000 performers of the Mile-Long Opera, stood in their position along the entire 30 block length of the High Line elevated park, singing snippets or reciting short monologues over and over and over again about life in New York City. It was an astonishing, spectacular, moving, and deeply odd work of theater that required a massive collaborative effort.

Broadway veteran Stephanie J. Block goes beyond just a spot-on impersonation of the mature Cher, called Star, in The Cher Show. As one of the three actresses portraying the entertainer at different stages of her life, she captures not just her look, her mannerisms, her moves, and her voice, but her attitudes and even her aura.

Nobody can do a nervous breakdown like Bryan Cranston. As Howard Beale, long-time network news anchor gone mad, he sits in front of the camera, unable to speak, his face a dramatic repertoire expressing varying shades of reddened desperation. And that’s just one of Cranston’s many memorable moments in the Broadway production of Network. Cranston became a star thanks to his Emmy-winning performance as chemistry teacher turned drug kingpin on AMC’s Breaking Bad, but convinced Broadway of his theater chops in his Tony-winning turn as LBJ in “All The Way.” His performance in “Network” is further proof.

Johnny Flynn portrayed Mooney, the mysterious, sly, sexy intruder in Martin McDonough’s Hangmen. Flynn, who originated the role in England, and played the lead in the bingeable Netflix series “Lovesick,” seems a likely candidate for larger stardom.

In The House That Will Not Stand, Lynda Gravátt portrayed Beartrice, the matriarch of an all-female African-American household in 19th century New Orleans, giving the gravitas it required, but with her character deepened by the suggestion of a willfully suppressed vulnerability. It’s one of the three distinctive roles she performed on New York stages this year – a prophetic cellist in This Flat Earth, a scheming funeral director in The Revolving Cycles Truly and Steadily Roll’d. She keeps her sense of dignity even when playing a con artist.

Tom Hollander

Tom Hollander carried Travesties. His energetic clowning never wavered, but he also managed to bring clarity and feeling to Tom Stoppard’s mind-boggling collage of a play.

Glenda Jackson

Glenda Jackson returned to Broadway in Albee’s Three Tall Women after an absence of thirty years to portray a rich, regal old lady who’s become a monster, and is also dying, a performance that manages to be simultaneously ferocious and vulnerable. Although Jackson herself is now 82 years old, she has that ability that great actresses have of convincing us that her portrayal of a dying 92-year-old is an act; that the actress herself is fully in command of an endless depth and power. In other hands, Albee’s play might seem cold. Jackson’s meditation on facing death finds the heartbreak in it.

Liz Mikel in Fruit Trilogy

In Eve Ensler’s Fruit Trilogy, Liz Mikel gave a final, breathtaking monologue that suggested to me something close to Molly Bloom’s monologue at the end of Joyce’s Ulysses, a passionate outburst about the pleasure a woman’s body can give her – but in Ensler’s play laced with a decidedly feminist message. Mikel completely disrobes, but immediately admonishes the audience not to give her labels like exhibitionist. “What if you were there not to be titillated but instead to watch, learn, appreciate, to perceive and understand my pleasure but not in a lascivious way.”

In what was (incredibly) her professional stage debut, Lauren Ridloff portrayed Sarah Norman in “Children of a Lesser God,” whose language (like the actress’s) was American Sign Language. The actress proved passionate, eloquent and graceful in the upper body ballet that is ASL.

Anika Noni Rose as Carmen Jones

Anika Noni Rose conquers in the title role of Carmen Jones, from the moment she enters wearing that red dress and carrying a red rose, and inspects her silk stockings. It is a subtle gesture that shows us a woman out for herself. Sultry, seductive and destructive, her Carmen Jones is an operatic character of outsized appetites, and Rose’s voice one of operatic force and beauty. But her performance, rooted in her training as a Tony-winning actress in both plays and musicals, offers no hint of the stilted formality we might associate with opera stars.

In her timely and informative play, What the Constitution Means to Me, Heidi Schreck plays herself at age 15 and at her current age. As winning as her play is, her performance as herself is remarkable. There is a certain slyness in her depiction of a teenager, but when she’s herself talking candidly about the history of domestic abuse in her family, or about her abortion, her emotions feel real. It’s bracing to realize she does this eight times a week

One thing about New York City: There’s no end to the stage talent. I could easily fill another Top 10 list of performances in 2018 And so here it is (again alphabetical):

Lauren Ambrose in My Fair Lady, Anthony Boyle in Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Nathan Lane in Angels in America, Elaine May in the Waverly Gallery, Lindsay Mendez in Carousel, Laurie Metcalfe in Three Tall Women, Chris Perfetti in The Low Road, Angie Schworer in The Prom, Shannon Tyo in The Chinese Lady, Michael Urie in Torch Song

And, it doesn’t feel right to leave out the puppets of 2018.Behind every successful puppet is a person – usually many people.

King Kong

King Kong in King Kong (Manipulated by Mike Baerga , Rhaamell Burke-Missouri , Jovan Dansberry , Casey Garvin, Gabriel Hyman, Marty Lawson, Robeto Olvero, Khadija Tariyan, Lauren Yalango-Grant , David Yijae — collectively referred to as King’s Company)

Jelani Alladin as Kristoff and Andrew Pirozzi as Sven

Sven the reindeer in Frozen (Adam Jepsen and Andrew Pirozzi)

Frozen: Greg Hildreth as Olaf

Olaf in Frozen (Greg Hildreth)

Jester, dragon, prince and princess finger puppets by Una Clancy in The Jester and the Dragon

The seventy-five puppets (or one thousand depending on how you cat) amoeba-looking plastic cut-outs and pieces of tinsel , psychedelic pinwheels etc. – in Symphonie Fantastique (Kate Brehm, Ben Elling, Andy Gaukel, Jonothon Lyons, and Rachael Shane, with Basil Twist)

20 Favorite New York Stage Performances in 2018, and 5 Top Puppet Performances My ten favorite individual human performances in New York stage shows that opened in 2018 are listed alphabetically, with explanations for my choices largely excerpted from my reviews, but let’s begin with a few noteworthy ensembles:

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years

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Chapter Ten: To Home and Friendship

(Images are not mine)

Rated: PG

~With every small disaster I'll let the waters still Take me away to some place real

'Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone Is where you go when you're alone Is where you go to rest your bones It's not just where you lay your head It's not just where you make your bed As long as we're together, does it matter where we go?~

Home.

That wasn't a word I was used to. Not anymore.

"I stand by what I said earlier, Jack. You make an excellent pillo― Oh holy crap."

I gasped as Jack lead me inside the literal bunker that these guys apparently lived in. I wondered if I would ever get used to it, because their bunker was enormous.

We entered through a non-descript entrance, that nobody would have noticed, onto a platform that was less of a balcony and more of a catwalk which I guessed was the second floor, though I couldn't tell exactly because it was a bunker and it probably had more levels than I could see. The wrought iron railing of the balcony was formed into a design of circles atop rectangles. The catwalk ended with a set of steel stairs that curved with the wall.

My feet clanged on the metal as I descended the stairwell. At the bottom of those stairs on my right was a doorway that led somewhere else and on my left was what I guessed was the entryway. There was a big glowy-table-thing with a map on it in the center of the space, surrounded by several chairs. There was this big, greenish panel thingy attached to one of the tan tiled walls that looked like some sort of old timey computer equipment. Through a big gray archway, I could see into another room that looked like a library with a huge telescope at the end of it. On the far left of the room there was another hallway going off somewhere else. Dean stepped off the staircase and spread his arms out.

"Welcome to the Batcave!" He said, grinning. "I see you're impressed." Only then did I realize my mouth was hanging open. I closed it and shook my head.

"This place is colossal," I said in awe.

"Yeah, it's a little pretentious but you get used to it." Sam shrugged, passing me. Jack just stood over my shoulder, watching my reaction.

"True, but if you want protection, this is about the safest place in the world. It's got warding against every evil thing out there. Vampires, werewolves, demons, ghosts, you name it," Dean boasted. Just then, Isaac appeared on the catwalk, as far from us as he could.

"Ha! Then how did I get in here genius!" He jeered. It took every last drop of will power I had not to facepalm right then and there. It was warm in here and the hunters would certainly notice a sudden temperature drop. Was Isaac trying to get us discovered? (I'd say killed but he's already dead.)

"Yep, nothing gets in here unless we let it. Or, you know, bring it in accidentally." Sam shared a look with Cas and his older brother.

"Scooby-dooby-doo!" Dean laughed, shaking his head. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the story behind that or not. Meanwhile Isaac wore a sheepish expression.

"Oh, guess that’s how I got in then." Words cannot express how much I wanted to kick my brother at that moment. After he was finished laughing, Dean looked to Jack.

"Kid, you take Mcfly here, find her a room, get her all settled, then give her the grand tour. I'm gonna hit the sack." Dean turned on his heel with a wave and whistled his way out of the room. Castiel mumbled something about research and crossed through the arch into the library.

"We're gonna find the monster that took your family away, Marty. But until then, think of us as your new one." I looked up at Sam and was reminded again of how huge the guy was. His head was in a totally different weather system than mine and I wondered if it was harder to breathe all the way up there.

"Thanks Sam." I took three steps higher on the stairs and made grabby hands at him. "Come here."

Sam raised an eyebrow at me but obeyed anyway. I took a tiny jump and wrapped my arms around his neck. He stumbled back a bit in surprise but quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around me with a chuckle.

"Shut up, Gigantor. I gotta hug ya’ somehow!" I rebuked, defending my height... Or rather, the lack thereof. I guess his laughter was justified though. My feet were dangling at least a foot from the floor. I let go of him and dropped back to the ground, it felt like falling off Mount Everest. Sam just shook his brown mane, smiling down at me.

"If there's anything you need, like help reaching the top shelf, just ask." I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, whatever Sasquatch. So, what are you gonna do?" I asked. Sam shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

"Put my stuff away. Then I'm gonna go reorganize the pantry, make sure you can reach the cereal," He smirked, and followed Dean's path through the other door-way.

"Way to rub it in, Sam!" I called after him. I heard him chuckle as he rounded the corner out of my sight. Then I rounded on Jack, who had been waiting patiently. "Well, Jack, if you wanna make fun of my height, now's the time to do it. Lead on!" I opened my arms, preparing for insults.

"It is rare that I get to feel tall, but I'm not going to make fun of you," He said, turning on his heel to lead me through the door-way behind us.

"Good. Cause' I might have slapped you if ya had." Jack looked back at me questioningly, but I just shrugged.

I followed him through twisting and turning hallways that I knew I wouldn't be memorizing anytime soon. We kept walking for what seemed like forever. Honestly, I was ninety-eight percent convinced that we might pass a sign that said: 'Now Entering Nebraska.' It didn't help that all the halls looked exactly the same.

"Back at the motel, the night we met, Dean said you had this thing," Jack remarked, turning to face me and walking backward.

"What thing?" I asked.

"I think he called it ‘A Napoleon Complex' or something like that," Jack said, innocently. I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing.

"And do you know what that is?"

"No. I haven't looked it up yet. Do you know?" I snorted.

"Oh, yeah. I know," I said. Already thinking of a comeback for the next time I saw Dean.

"What is it?" Jack was simply curious. I smirked at him.

"Do you know who Napoleon was?" I asked him, I was pretty sure of the answer.

"No." Just as I thought. The Winchesters needed to teach their half-angel some history. As for now though, I could give him the watered-down version.

"Napoleon was a French dude, not to be confused with the ice-cream. He was five foot six and when people called him short, he blew them up." I told him. Jack nodded seriously.

"I see, so he was insecure about his height and used violence to compensate for it. Then, the complex was named after him." I had to give it to him, the kid was smart.

"Yep. Never mind the fact that he took over almost all of Europe, he will always be famous for being a human chihuahua." I had to at least teach Jack something remotely accurate. Jack frowned and his eyebrows pulled together as if remembering something unpleasant. I guessed he had come into contact with a chihuahua before, it didn't look like he was fond of them.

"So, Dean thinks you're insecure about your height," Said Jack, returning us to the original topic.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Are you?" I shrugged.

"Not really. I'm just obnoxious." Jack laughed, coming to a stop in front of a black door that looked just the same as the rest that lined the hall except for the plaque with the number 22 etched into it.

"This is my room," He said. "And that's Sam's." He pointed to the door on the left of his which had a 21 on it. "You can pick any of these other rooms." His eyes flicked to the door next to his on the right, room 24. I briefly wondered what had happened to 23. When I met his eyes, he looked at his feet, as if his shoes were much more interesting than me.

"Does anyone live in here?" I tapped the door with 24 on it.

"No, it's empty but you don't have to take that one if you don't want to." Jack glued his eyes to the polished cement floor and ran his hand through his hair, a tick I was sure he picked up from Sam.

"Why wouldn't I want to?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and putting my hands on my hips. I watched as a pink tint started to creep up Jack's neck.

"I don't want you to think that you have to stay in that one just because I want you too," He muttered.

"You want me to stay next to you?" I pointed out. Jack's expression went blank, his eyes wide as quarters.

"Um, I-I-I don't- I didn't mean--" Jack stumbled over his words. His gaze drilled straight into the floor, his hands were fidgeting, and his right foot twisted its toe against the concrete. His body language pointed at nervousness. Why was he this nervous? Was it me? He hadn't been this way before, what was different now? I decided to ease his nerves with a little humor. I stuck my hand into his line of sight and waved.

"Yoo, hoo! I'm up here, Jack." He flicked his eyes up to my face but kept his head down. "Well, not up per-say but you know what I mean," I joked. His smile was still pointed at the concrete. I guessed we'd just have to work on that.

"S-sorry." His laugh was a breathy one. I sighed, planting my hands on my hips.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Jack. It's nice to have someone who wants me around, I haven't had that in a long time." I smiled in what I hoped was a friendly way. Jack rocked back and forth on his heels and his mouth did that crooked smile of his. He even flicked his eyes up at me.

"Well, uh, what are friends for?" He sounded like he was reciting something he heard in a movie.

I wondered whether Jack was trying to flirt with me or not. A tiny part of me hoped that he was and another part of me kicked myself for hoping for that. How could I think that way? Jack was two, he was probably too young to understand feelings like that, if he even had them. He probably didn't have them. He was probably just doing his best to make a friend, by going off what he had seen. I mean, the movies are pretty against a boy and a girl simply being friends. Besides if he knew what I was, he wouldn't be standing here talking to me. He'd be trying to kill me. Isaac was right. Any friendship I made here, would never be real. It never could be.

"Right," I said softly. Now I was the one looking down at my feet. But I wasn't doing it out of nerves. I was doing it out of shame. Glancing up at him through my lashes, Jack's smile faltered for only a moment. He grasped the doorknob and turned it and as the door swung inward, Jack flipped a switch and the white florescent lights buzzed to life.

The room was simply decorated, and by that I mean it wasn't decorated at all. The walls, ceiling, and floor were grey and a built-in shelf stuck out from the far wall. In the center of the space sat a full-size bed with a plain white duvet, white sheets, and down pillows. There was a dresser pushed up against one wall, a desk pressed against the other, and a tiny night stand next to the bed, all of which were fashioned out of wood the shade of walnut.

"Um, it's not much, but we can get you some stuff to make it yours," Jack smirked down at me and I ducked past him into the room.

Other than those objects, the room was bare, but I found myself overwhelmed. My chest tightened and my eyes stung, it was so little, but it was more than I'd had in five years. I shrugged my backpack off my shoulders and placed my violin case on the bed. Keeping my back turned, my face hidden from Jack, I blinked rapidly to dispel my tears.

"It's wonderful, Jack. I-I love it." I took a deep breath and pasted a smirk on my face. When I had control of my emotions, I swung back to face him. "Now, how bout' that grand tour?" Jack's brows pushed together.

"Don't you want to put your things away, first?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Nah, I can do that anytime. This place is pretty awesome, I wanna see it all!" I grinned at him, pressing all the excitement I could muster into my voice. Jack grinned back.

"Well, um, what would you like to see first?"

"No idea! What's your favorite room?" Jack's eyes flicked to the side as he thought about his answer for a moment.

"The kitchen," He decided. His seriousness made me chuckle.

"I like the way you think. You lead, I'll follow!" This time, instead of smiling at the concrete, Jack smiled at my shoes! We were making good progress. Now if I could get him to smile at my face, then we would really be getting somewhere.

Jack swung around on his heel and walked about four paces before opening a door on the other side of the hall. This one was labeled with 23. 'So that's where it went.' I thought, as Jack pushed the door open and walked through. Inside was the kitchen. It wasn't the kind you have at home. No, this was one of those industrial sort of kitchens, all polished steel and florescent lighting. (The buzzing of those light bulbs was extremely annoying, but I would just have to get used to it.)

There were pots and pans everywhere. Any sort of cook where you could imagine was in there, hanging on racks, dangling from hooks, sitting on shelves, or habitually left on the stove. What looked like easily one hundred white plates were stacked neatly on the shelves of the giant stainless-steel island that dominated the space. Two ovens, stood side-by-side in a little nook, one of which had a griddle attached to the top. Hovering over the two ovens were large vents of gleaming steel.

To the right of the cooking station was the preparation area and a sink as big as your average tub. I'm not kidding. The thing was gargantuan. Above that monstrosity of a kitchen sink sat an array of porcelain cups, and a tissue box, on a shelf. To the right of that, there sat a large stainless steel shelving unit that was home to various cooking supplies and four white drawers in the middle.

On the far wall, was a brown bulletin board decorated with various notes, covered in scribbles and sketches, tacked to it. Beneath the bulletin was a table crafted from some dark colored wood, that was either oak or mahogany, and was attached to the wall. Affixed to the table were eight stool-like seats constructed from the same dark material as the table itself. Directly to the right side of the door, was a coat rack and six small lockers stacked vertically. The right wall was an archway and set of stairs that lead off into a hallway branching to the right and a different set of stairs to the left.

As I peered around to the left side of the door and past another steel shelf, I laid eyes upon what could only be the freezer/refrigerator combo. It was this enormous floor-to-ceiling white panel with five varying sized doors built into it. The far most door on the right was taller than me so I assumed that was the refrigerator and the other four doors were freezers. Why one would need four freezers, I had no idea, but I found myself liking the concept. Now that I had finished taking in the grossly oversized kitchen, I whirled to Jack and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. I stared him dead in the eyes.

"This. Place. Is. Awesome." I pointed at the refrigerator. "Five bucks says I could fit in there!" Jack's gaze followed my finger and he nodded.

"I think you could," He said. I took another glance around the space. I couldn't help it. The laugh bubbled up from my stomach, filled my chest, and bloomed in my throat. It had been a long, long, long, time since I had laughed like that.

"I went from having nothing, to living in this place! This is amazing!" I flung my arms around Jack. It was quite the feat on my part to refrain from crushing his ribs. I was so excited I could hardly contain it. I was bouncing up and down on my toes like a little girl! Though I guess, in the eyes of Jack and the others, that’s sort of what I was.

"I'm glad you like it!" Jack said, grinning.

"I don't like it, Jack. I love it!" I exclaimed. My stomach growled like an angry bear, just being in here was making me hungry. "Hey, as long as we're here, got anything good to eat? I'm starving!" That last bit was nothing new, I was always starving these days, always craving. But I was never craving food. Jack's throat suddenly looked extremely tasty. Thankfully, his voice broke me away from that train of thought.

"I like ice-cream," He said, brightly.

"Jack?”

"Hm?"

"We are gonna be awesome friends."

No, home wasn't a word I was used to. Not anymore. But I realized with a start, that for the first time in five years, I had one. A real one.

It looked like I was gonna have to get used to it.

Jack knelt down and opened the door on the bottom left of the freezer/refrigerator combo that I then dubbed 'The Wall of Cold Stuff'. He reached in, grabbed a tub of ice cream, then stood and kicked the door shut.

"The bowls are down there and the spoons are in the top left drawer," He said, pointing to the shelf in the back. I made my way over and grabbed two of each. We both sat at the table, across from each other, and Jack served up the ice cream. I then got the chance to glance at the ice cream's label. It was chocolate-chip-cookie-dough.

"This is my favorite flavor. What's yours?" I asked him, shoveling ice cream into my mouth and moaning as the sugary goodness coated my tongue. Jack must have found that funny because he ducked his head and laughed.

"I don't know. This one is pretty good, but I love the mint and brownie ones as well," He told me. I had noticed that Jack always took great care to think about his answers before he gave them. He took and asked every question seriously. I got the feeling that Jack was the sort of person who's curiosity was never satisfied.

"I can vibe with that," I agreed. Jack's brows furrowed, he placed his spoon down on the table, folded his hands in his lap and leaned forward.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what that means. Could you explain it?" He asked. I liked the way he behaved when he was curious about something, Jack just dropped everything to learn and focused entirely on whatever it was he was trying to understand. Right now, that thing was me. I found that I didn't mind his undivided attention.

"Oh, um, it means that you agree with something somebody said. Its like saying 'you're right' or 'I agree with you' or 'that's cool'," I explained. Jack nodded.

"I think I understand." I gave him a thumbs up and scooped another spoonful of ice-cream into my mouth, closing my eyes and savoring the flavor with a deep sigh.

"You know, it's been five years since I last had ice cream," I said. Jack froze his ice cream eating with his spoon still stuck in his mouth, his expression morphing into one of horror and pity.

"That's awful!" He said, he'd removed the spoon, but his mouth was still full of the dessert, "No one should have to go without ice cream for that long!"

"My friend, you are absolutely right," I replied, pointing my spoon at him. "Here's to ice cream and sugar highs!" I tapped my bowl with the spoon and Jack copied me, albeit somewhat confused as to what I was doing. Speaking of sugar highs, I could already feel one building up already. It had been way too long since I'd had this much sugar.

"Marty?" Jack wanted my attention.

"Hm?"

"I had a dream about you last night," He said, changing the subject. I stared up at him, pulling my spoon out of my mouth.

"Should I be worried?"

"No."

"What was I doing in this dream of yours?" I asked, straining to keep the nervousness that was building in my chest out of my voice. Jack frowned, picking at his ice cream.

"You said-- You told me you were dangerous and I shouldn't trust you, that you're hiding something."

I bit my lip, my eyes widening with shock. I struggled to keep calm and natural, my reactions could give me away. Just as I'd settled my expression, Jack looked up. "I can trust you, right?" I smiled as genuinely as I could, which was difficult to do with his gaze piercing into my soul like it was.

"Of course, you can! I may be clever but I'm not exactly diabolical," I said, giving my best laugh. Jack smiled and nodded, though I got the notion that he was reassuring himself more than anything. If he was going to say something else, he never got the chance because at that moment, Sam strolled into the room.

He stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of us at the table. Our heads snapped up at the same time and we froze. Jack had his spoonful halfway to his mouth and mine was already there. The three of us just stared at each other for a moment but Sam was the first to react.

"Come on guys, really?! It's six A.M.!" He exclaimed. I shrugged, removing the spoon from my mouth and pointing it at him.

"AM, PM. What's the difference? Live a little!" With that comment alone, Sam figured he wouldn't be getting anywhere with me, so he turned to Jack.

"Jack, come on, be an example." Jack glanced at his spoonful of dessert and shoved in in his mouth, quickly.

"Technically," He pointed out, directing his spoon at me, "She's older than me!"

"Hey!" I protested.

"What?"

"This was your idea!"

Jack shrugged. "I know, but you agreed. I was just stating a fact," he said. Sam sighed, shaking his head. The two of us turned our attention back to him.

"Jack, throw it away and put the container back in the freezer. If you want ice cream, you can have it at dinner. Not at six in the morning," He scolded. Jack swallowed his mouthful of ice cream.

"But Sam, look at how happy she is! Marty hasn't had ice cream for five years!" He tried. I nodded vigorously to emphasize the point.

"It's true, Sam. You only live once!" I said, shoving another bite of ice cream in my mouth. Sam's eyes flicked back and forth between us.

"Fine. Just this once," He sighed.

"Thanks Sam!" Jack and I grinned.

"Yeah, whatever." Sam rolled his eyes and left the kitchen, but I could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. When he was gone, Jack sighed with relief.

"I take it you do this a lot," I said to him. He looked at the ice cream with a guilty expression.

"I wouldn't say a lot."

"But often enough for him not to be surprised?"

"Yeah." Jack grinned sheepishly.

"Does he always catch you?" I asked him.

"Every time, yes."

We finished our ice cream and put our dishes in the sink. Then, Jack proceeded to show me the rest of the bunker. Sometimes I would ask about what was in few of the rooms and he would reply with an 'I don't know' or a few times a rather disturbing 'You don't want to know'. To say that his cryptic warning had no effect on me would be a lie. He spoke the words in a light hearted way that just made me more worried. So, I tried to push any speculations as to the contents of those rooms from my mind but kept step slightly closer to Jack from then on.

He showed me a garage full of a bunch of old-timey cars that I found myself figuratively drooling over, a room full of antique electronic equipment he told me not to touch, an impressive gym with an adjacent shower room, an infirmary, a shooting range that looked like a lot of fun, something they called the 'War Room' which was where the glowy table was, the extensive library, and an alcove with an gigantic telescope that Jack claimed nobody could figure out how to use. According to him, the glowy table in the war room could supposedly track monsters, but the Winchesters weren't sure how to use it. Much to my relief.

Jack also showed me a room where I immediately knew I would be spending most of my time. Jack rather confusedly referred to it as 'The Dean Cave'. I later noticed the paper sign tacked on the back of the door that was labeled with said name. Inside there was a flat screen TV, two recliners, a bar that I'd never use, a foosball table which I would definitely use, a record-playing jukebox that I hoped had some decent tunes, and a shelf full of books. The whole room was lit by these cool red and blue lights that looked to be made out of beer kegs. This was a place I could get used to.

"Jack, I think I found my second favorite room," I said, trailing my fingers along the rim of the foosball table.

"You'll have to ask Dean if you can use the T.V. he and Sam are still trying to figure it out." Jack sat cross-legged on one of the ugly plaid recliners.

"Remind me to help em' with that. I'm tech-y," I replied, walking over to observe the jukebox. I didn't know most of the titles displayed on the devices list of records, but my eyes landed on one that I'd know even if it was written in Chinese. "Oh my gosh! Jack, how do I use this thing?!" I squealed, excitedly. Jack hopped up to help me.

"You turn this knob to select which one you want, then you press this button to start it," He explained. I followed his instructions and watched the machine grab the record and put it on that spinning thing before it dropped the needle. I grinned ear to ear as sweet music filled the air.

~Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long And wouldn't it be nice to live together In the kind of world where we belong?~

"What's this one called?" Jack asked over the notes.

"Wouldn't it be nice, by The Beach Boys! It's one of my favorites!" I was surprised that it was here considering Dean's bias when it came to music.

~You know it's gonna make it that much better When we can say goodnight and stay together~

"I dare you to sing along, Jack-Jack." I grinned and nudged his shoulder.

"No thank you," He said, shaking his head with a pleasant smile.

~Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up In the morning when the day is new? And after having spent the day together Hold each other close the whole night through~

"Awww! Why not?"

"I don't know the words." He shrugged.

~Happy times together we've been spending I wish that every kiss was never ending Oh, wouldn't it be nice?~

"Fine!" I sighed in over dramatic disappointment, flopping onto one of the recliners. "But that excuse is only gonna work once!"

Jack chuckled, leaning his arms on the back of the recliner to look down at me. "I guess I better come up with more excuses then!"

~Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray It might come true Baby, then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do Oh, we could be married (oh, we could be married) And then we'd be happy (and then we'd be happy) Oh, wouldn't it be nice?~

"You can't evade me forever," I declared, kicking my feet back and forth to the beat of the song.

"True," Jack agreed, nodding. "But I can try."

"And try you will, young Skywalker," I said.

"I like Star Wars!" Jack noted, suddenly seeming to shift from being older than me to younger by about five years. It was an odd thing to watch.

"Who doesn't?"

~Goodnight, my baby Sleep tight, my baby Goodnight, my baby Sleep tight, my baby~

The music faded away but I maintained eye contact with Jack in a spontaneous staring contest. Why? Because, naturally the first one to break was a weakling and I was not going to take that title on my first day with these people.

"Is this a staring contest?" Jack asked, tilting his head a bit. He didn't blink.

"Indeed. We maintained eye contact for longer than twenty-eight seconds, so it's obligatory," You replied, still refusing to blink.

"I did not know that those were the rules," Jack said, sounding somewhat confused.

"Well, they're not. That's just how my family always played." You were quick to clear your throat and rid your tone of any sadness that slipped past your defenses.

"Oh, I see."

"I take it you two are having fun."

"Agh!" I shot up from my reclined position in shock and whipped to the doorway where I took in the sight of Castiel standing just outside the door frame, the ghost of a smile visible on his otherwise expressionless face. How long had he been watching? Embarrassment warmed my cheeks and I hoped we hadn't looked like idiots.

"Hey Cas! I don't know about Jack, but I'm having the time of my life!" I said. Then I turned to Jack. "Whattdya' say, buddy? Am I torturing you?"

"I've been tortured before, this isn't anything close to what that was like! Don't worry, Marty. You're a lot of fun." He stated, matter-of-factly. My eyes went wide and I tilted my head at him. I mean, what was I even supposed to say to something like that? "Oh, and you I won the staring contest." I found myself nodding slowly.

"Well, good for you. And that's got to be the weirdest complement I think I've ever gotten, but I'll take it." Jack grinned at me in his lopsided way and I turned my attention back to the other angel in the room. "Any particular reason for this visit or were ya just passing?"

"Sam asked me to check up on you two," Cas answered.

"Alright. Well, I was just about to ask Jack to help me find my way back to my room."

Cas simply nodded and walked off.

"So, why do you like that song so much?" Jack inquired as we strode back through the endless identical hallways.

"It was in one of my mom's favorite movies so she was always singing it. I love the tune as well and sometimes, when I'm sad, the words make me feel better," I answered. Jack frowned.

"I don't understand song lyrics. They never make sense to me."

"Would you like me to explain it to you?"

"Yes." Jack nodded and once again gave me all his attention.

"So, that song is about two young people who feel like they're living their lives stuck in place. There's so much they want to do but everybody says they're just to young to do it. They feel like they've outgrown the stage of life that they're in and they just want to move on. By being stuck where they are, they're afraid they'll miss their opportunity for happiness. So they dream about a day when they'll finally be free to do whatever they want, even if they that day may never come around." My thoughtful tone surprised me.

I hadn't meant to put so much of my own emotion into my explanation of the lyrics. If I kept on like this, the hunters would figure me out in no time. But there was just something about Jack, about the way he listened to my every word, that made me want to tell him everything about everything. I was weak around him. He made me let my guard down. I'd have to learn how to keep it up if I wanted to survive.

"Do you feel stuck sometimes?" Jack asked. His tone was sincere but his expression gave me no clues a s to what he was hoping to learn from his question. I nodded.

"I used to feel like I was living a loop, like every day was the same. It sucked." I rolled my eyes and shoved him playfully. "But then four weirdos in an Impala showed up and my life is finally moving again!"

~With every small disaster I'll let the waters still Take me away to someplace real

Cause' they say home is where your heart is set in stone Its where you go when you're alone Its where you go to rest your bones Its not just where you lay your head Its not just where you make your bed As long as we're together does it matter where we go?~

Lyrics from: Home by Jasmine Thompson

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