Why. Why are people on this site still weird about NPD? Like genuinely why am I still seeing posts on my dash that act like people with NPD are evil????

Viren, TDP, and Narcissism

The Dragon Prince has never shied away from depicting mental health issues.

First we had trauma as manifested by magic.

Then we had anxiety as manifested by magic.

Then we had a look at PTSD and depression in Through the Moon.

Which got me thinking, what sort of other mental health issues has TDP been portraying all this time?

Then it sorta hit me, after re-reading one of the show's novels and @jelzorz's rather brilliant fic here (seriously, go check it out), that the show had been exploring a mental disorder that is extremely popular as a character trait, but rarely discussed in fiction - narcissism.

Narcissism (or Narcissistic Personality Disorder) is one of the more common personality disorders, so it's kind of surprising that it is so widely misunderstood. Usually, people don't seem to have a lot of interest in narcissists outside of demonizing them, and in shows they often make great antagonists (or even fun protagonists) without exploring this inner psyche much more beyond that. So it's natural that narcissism is also explored in TDP as well.

If the title wasn't a dead giveaway, what I'm trying to say is Lord Viren is a narcissist.

I should probably preface this with a couple things. First, I'm not saying that Viren is a psychopath. Psychopaths don't really care what other people think of them, while narcissists are constantly preoccupied with how other people see them. Narcissists deeply crave validation and respect from others to feed their egos and self-worth. Narcissists also don't have a problem telling right from wrong; quite the opposite, in some ways narcissists are not only able to tell right from wrong, they for the most part want to do right because of their desire to be liked or at least as seen as important.

Viren doesn't qualify as a psychopath, but in re-reading his POV and rewatching key scenes from the show, Viren quite easily meets the official definition of a narcissist. His desire for recognition, even and especially in high-stress situations, reaches alarming levels. His love for his children is genuine but it's clear he sees them mainly as an extension of himself.

More importantly, of the nine signs of narcissistic personality disorder, Viren meets a,uh, breathtaking number of them. Namely all of them.

A grandiose sense of self-importance

Viren kept his gaze steady. It seemed the other rulers had not doubted his lie. They accepted at face value not only that Ezran was alive, but that Viren had been made regent. And why wouldn’t they accept it? In a more rational world, it would be true, and the council would have entrusted me with the leadership of Katolis.

Book 2: Sky - Chapter 17 "Summit at the Pentarchy"

Preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited power, influence, or success 

For once, can't these imbeciles treat me appropriately? Maybe when I save them all from Xadia I'll be greeted with greater respect. "I suppose 'Welcome Lord Viren' would have been too much to ask," Viren said.

Book 2: Sky - Chapter 17 "Summit at the Pentarchy"

A belief that they are special and can only be around people who are important or special

They all want to meet with you. They think of you as the leader of Katolis. Viren could barely wait for the meeting. These leaders had only seen him on the sidelines. But he knew all about them.

Book 2: Sky - Chapter 17 "Summit at the Pentarchy"

A need for excessive admiration

Was he really ready to give his life for thousands of regular citizens? People he didn't know and would never meet? But on the other hand, he would be remembered forever as a hero. "I can help," Viren said to Harrow.

Book 2: Sky - Chapter 19 "Heart of the Titan"

A sense of entitlement

Viren’s face went white with rage. He’d come here with the best of intentions, prepared to give his life, and the king was too stubborn to even listen. He curled one lip up. “Oh, are you sure you wouldn’t prefer ‘Your Royal Highness’? Or ‘Your Esteemed Inimitable Majesty’ perhaps?” Harrow didn’t deserve the loyalty Viren had been prepared to offer.

Book 2: Sky - Chapter 9 "Viren's sacrifice"

Taking advantage of others to achieve their own ends

A lack of empathy

“Ohhhh. Yes, who wouldn’t have a problem with dark magic?” Viren sneered. “It’s clever, it’s brilliant, it’s practical. You are too stubborn to make use of the tools that are available to you. It will save your life, just as it has saved the lives of countless others.” “It’s a shortcut,” King Harrow snapped back. “We may not pay now, but we will pay the blood price eventually.” “Now you’re starting to sound like her,” Viren said with a smirk.

Book 1: Sky - Chapter 5 "The Letter and the Serpent"

Envious of others or believe that others are envious of them

Arrogance of otherwise haughty behavior

Viren laughed derisively. Such a question could only come from an ignoramus. He looked at the other council members and shook his head, trying to bring them into his confidence.

Book 2: Sky - Chapter 2 "The Breach"

Viren's narcissism drives his central flaws. His hunger for personal recognition eclipses his concern for collective welfare, even when Katolis faces catastrophe. His children become conduits projecting his ambitious legacy rather than cherished loves unto themselves.

However, unlike most shows, TDP doesn't use Viren's narcissism to demonize him. Instead, the show threads the needle by making Viren both villainous and sympathetic as a result of narcissism, since it's both the reason he does awful things but also his shield from the perception of vulnerability and worthlessness.

It's important to remember that narcissists are not only capable of self-loathing, it is often a key part of their condition. That grandiose sense of important mentioned earlier is often a thin veneer hiding feelings of shame, self-doubt, and self-hatred. Obsessive self-loathing is a form of narcissism.

But the show lays bare these vulnerabilities, letting us see his internal struggles to do right constantly brush against his emotional needs that never seem to be met. He walks right up to the line of doing something noble...

...and then shirks at the last minute.

However, just because Narcissistic Personality Disorder is a chronic, lifelong condition doesn't mean that narcissists are incapable of change. And indeed, Viren hits a breakthrough in the most recent season.

One element of narcissism is that they love extremely conditionally, and see their loved ones (particularly their children) as an extension of themselves. Indeed, Viren does "love" his children in this way, particularly Claudia, who he sees as people he can mold into his own image. Unfortunately, for Claudia, this seems to have Gone Horribly Right.

But in the end, Viren recognizes his own behavior and breaks out of it. He sees how pushing Claudia to be like him - to be an extension of himself - has brought her to ruin.

While it's fun to watch characters who are blind to their own faults and lack of self awareness, it is equally rewarding watching Viren reach this moment of clarity. Most narcissists are oblivious to the harm they cause others (since hurtful behavior is just collateral damage to having their emotional needs met), but Viren now realizes the harm he has caused Claudia. Witnessing Claudia’s self-destruction, his conscience awakens to recognize his culpability for exploiting her for his own ego.

Treating her downfall as his personal failing is a real breakthrough for him. Which is why it makes sense that, once Viren reaches this level of awareness, taking a principled, noble stance against his own personal interests quickly follows.

Anyway, those are just my takes on this deep, complex character. If you made it this far, thank you for reading!

Name(s): anaï + add any you like !!

Gender(s): xenogirl buttercreamic pastel-dreamic + add a hoard of other alike ones !!

Orientation(s): xephryan (xenogirls loving xenogirls)

CisID(s): add a cluster A personality disorder here, your choice !!

TransID(s): add a cluster B and a cluster C personality disorder and then add as many as you like, a hoard would be nice !!

Pronoun(s): shi / xi / doll + any others you can think of ^^

Species(s): living doll

Age(s): teen-coded ageless

Role(s): any :3c

would love a faceclaim !! thank you so much in advance !!

We hope shi is to your liking Love!!!!!!! Enjoy!!! also let us know if you need help getting hir into your system!!!!!

-NINA!!!!!

Names: Anaï and Dahliah

Genders: Xenogirl, Buttercreamic, Pastel-Dreamic, Pinkcharsic, Florfraisian, Cupumine, Vampdollthing, Sweetcloudic, Loveadored and Fizzygender

Orientations: Xephryan and Hyperomantic

TransID(s): TransJapanese, TransHPD (Histrionic personality disorder) , TransDPD (Dependent personality disorder) , TransOccupation (Nurse to Stay at home wife), TransSympathetic, TransHeartPupils, Transinfertile, and TransScent (Wants to permanently smell like sugar)

CisIDs: PPD (Paranoid personality disorder), Heterochromia, PlushParent, Dollqueer, Brat, Dorodere, Sugarbaby, ShoppingAddict

Pronouns: Shi/Hir Xi/Xim Doll/Doll's Pastel/Pastel's Dream/Dream's Creamy/Creamy's Plush/Plush's Pink/Pink's Bunny/Bunny's Sugar/Sugar' Dolly/Dolly's

Species: LivingDoll / BunnyGirl

Age: Ageless

Source: N/A

Roles: Little (not fully little but bratty behaviour + looking young counts hir as a little in this case) & Memory Holder

Appearance: Dark pink hair, heterochromia (pastel blue and pastel pink) pink everything, 5'5, Dark pink floppy bunny ears, Pale

Behaviour: Shi is a walking brat to say the least Anaï wants everything and anything shi can want whether that's hir favorite person to like hir back to getting the most expensive food shi wants it all and will scream and make a scene till shi gets it shi refuses to wear stuff that doesn't have pink and practically only wears hir hair half up half down shi keeps hir hair in this hair bow shi forces hir FP to put it up in if you think of a mean girl you probably think of hir though shi doesn't out right insult you shi loves backhanded compliments shi looks like a total sweetheart on the outside and even when you first talk with hir shi's sweet but that's just to manipulate you into giving hir what shi wants the one thing shi doesn't treat terribly is hir bunny plush shi is a plush parent after all shi will treat hir plush like it is hir actual baby

Hi....If you don't mind, can I ask, what are your top 10 (or top 7) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series)? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before......Thanks....

of course 👍👍 i have not answered this question before . here u are :

1. Mob Psycho 100 - i genuinely think this anime has completely changed the way i view life, other people and also myself forever, and also has made me feel more comfortable in confronting and talking more with people. its also really cute uniquely-animated show with silly funny characters. #reigen4life

2. Mystery To Iunakare (Don't Call It Mystery) - while i think this jdrama/manga is fairly unknown internationally, in japan its quite popular. Even with the lack of international love, i am obssessed with it, because i like how its homoerotic as hell, the little mysteries, how it portrays did (dissociative identity disorder; this disorder is extremely stigmatized so its nice to have a character that is a somewhat realistic portrayal of it), sympathy for abuse victims and that they're completely justified in killing their abusers, silly guys befriending random criminals on ths street, etc. It's a fun show that has an aura of tragedy surrounding it, and i love comedy and tragedy!!!!!!

3. Move To Heaven (kdrama) - every episode, i cried, straight up bawling my eyes out at how this show chooses to portray the dead through their belongings. the cinematography is so breathtakingly beautiful and makes me feel so calm and peaceful even though ik im gonna be crying in the next few minutes.

my favorite episode is episode 9, where i relate to kang seong-min/matthew green, being treated as a foreigner in your own home country hit hard. the loneliness and the frustration of people treating you differently because they see you as an alien that doesn't know where it is and doesn't understand anything. it hits even harder the more times i rewatch it.

it also has my 3 faves things in a show: autism, queerness and tragedy!!

4. D.P (deserter pursuit; kdrama) - this show is such a good critique of the military and toxic masculinity. i haven't finished season 2, but it's still at the top of my list because of how much emotions it made me feel, anger sadness disgust etc. like !!!!!!! i hold so deeply in my heart the nuances of trauma. queerness. tragedy. the way mandatory rotc brings so many people to their lowest point in life while the military does nothing to help them. victims of abuse never being able to get their voices heard or make an impact despite sacrificing their own life in order to make a change.

idk, its just a really cute and silly show ^-^

5. I Told Sunset About You (tv series) - in every episode i cried as well, sobbing screaming running around the walls WAILING. i like how it portrays the struggle of being a poor bisexual asian person who has just recently found out they're queer.

i love the whole "self hatred and unwillingness to accept your identity, causing you to hurt others in the process" thing, because it makes teh a more nuanced character to me, that he's not perfect or flawless and that he's a person that does not know how to react to finding out he's queer, having to constantly feel pressured to be better than his older brother, feeling pressured to repress his identity, etc. etc.

(i don't know if i can say the same for the second addition, "i promised you the moon", though, that one was mostly just fine, not as good as the original, but fine.)

6. The Untamed/Mo Dao Zu Shi (cdrama vers.) - i feel like you already know the answer as to why i like this one alot. its tragic, its queer, its convuluted, it has so many dead characters, etc. everything i love to see in media all put together!! wen ning my son 🫶🫶🫶

7. Everything Everywhere All At Once (movie) - this movie made me kind of understand me and my foster grandmother's relationship more, and has really influenced me to work on communicating with her better, and that i can do silly shit that makes me happy all i want. Forever. seriously made me want to continue living on despite my own country not being able to accept my queer existence.

8. Call Me Chihiro/Chihiro-san (movie) - one thing i love about call me chihiro is its calm chaoticness, how the protag just seems to go with the flow of life. i think the relationships chihiro forms with the people in the town are so beautiful and personal ,, it feels so peaceful and happy despite all the bad things that happen in it, like there's this hopefulness and composed even under pressure type of vibe to it that made me tie it close to my heart

9. Saving Face (movie) - this movie is pretty much SUPER ICONIC in like, the world of asian lesbian films, and for a pretty good reason too,, i feel like it emulates so much of the average lesbian experience with having an Asian family. the casual racism from the mother, the lesbophobia, the matchmaking, the constant peer pressuring into getting a boyfriend, etc etc. i cannot think of one scene in this movie where it didn't directly remind me of lesbian tomfoolery that happened in my life.

it's also just a really cute movie about acceptance and has a good ending (which is rare for lesbian films)

10. Marry My Dead Body (movie) - the concept of this movie is unusual but the execution is so good i can't even. like it made me cry 3 seperate times. while not obssessed with this movie that much, so i can't talk too much of it but its cute!!!!! i thought i was going to get the ick bc of the homophobic main character but he started to grow on me the more he changed his views when he got accidentally ghost married to a guy. and also how they got each others backs all the time and won't hesitate to sacrifice themselves to protect the other is so real. #lintzuchingfan4life

akechi, fyodor, dazai, and izaya for the character meme. :)

so many... akechi

favorite thing about them: there's too many things but it's his tenacity and how he refuses to change himself for other people in the end (ie 3rd semester) for me babey!!

least favorite thing about them: fanon pancakes xD

favorite line: “I’m going to be entirely honest with you, I hate you.”

brOTP: makoto and akechi... i just think they'd have the stupidest intellectual conversations about morality and justice that i'd subscribe to

OTP: do i really gotta say it

nOTP: idk how people ship him and yoshizawa but absolutely no thanks

random headcanon: despite hating sweets, he perfectly curates his social media with date spot sweets and makes sure the other seat is always empty so that he can better appeal to his fanbase and look available as a celebrity. it's incredibly annoying for him to put in the effort, but he really is meticulous with it

unpopular opinion: akechi isn't a bad character, you all just hate the people with "scary" mental illnesses

song i associate with them: flight of the crows - jhariah

favorite picture of them: i can't find my favorite favorite but this is a runner-up by kaninn

fyodor

favorite thing about them: how incredibly intelligent he is.... look at that little guy go. look at the prison chapters where he's just talking with dazai in code that they both made up on the spot.

least favorite thing about them: i can't think of anything beyond the fact that his eng VA annoys me. that's how much i'm in love with this little rat man

favorite line: “I am crime. I am punishment. Crime and punishment are close friends. Borders vanish. Rooms awaken. The incarnation of death, the master of the ability-consuming fog… Eat, howl, and make violence as your instinct desires. This is neither a loss of control nor a singularity.”

brOTP: fyogolsig. we love two maniacs and a tired casino owner shenanigans

OTP: fyozai.... let me talk to you for the next twelve years why fyozai is the only perfect bsd shi

nOTP fyoran. don't see the fandom appeal

random headcanon: he has to get iron replacement injections for severe anemia or else he's just a useless little bag of bones in his bed for a long while. idiot. stupid.

unpopular opinion: i think fyodor is probably the most underrated villain of the series because people really sleep on him compared to how they treat members of the port mafia, or treat him like just an underling of fukuchi -__-

song i associate with them: l'inverno op. 8 no.4 in f minor 1. allegro - vivaldi

favorite picture of them: OKAY LISTEN IT'S NOT ARTWORK BUT I GO GOOGOO GAGA OVER THIS SCENE IN DEAD APPLE EVERY FUCKING TIME IT'S MY FAVORITE!!!!

dazai

favorite thing about them: he's such a fucking snake? like this man is on x games mode when it comes to his true agenda at all times. things just LINE UP to where they work out with the ADA for the most part, but he still has so many threads from his before life that he pulls whenever he needs to

least favorite thing about them: boiled down to either a part of a ship or teehee suicide joke by both canon and fanon ALL the time

favorite line: "If you place yourself somewhere close to raw emotions, where you’re exposed to violence and death, instinct and desire, you can brush against man’s true nature. I thought that way I could find a reason to live somehow."

brOTP: kunidazai... i just think they're funny little guys. :)

OTP: i can't say my true otp so i'll just say fyozai because i like them too!

nOTP: dazai and ranpo. i just cannot fucking stand it because of someone.

random headcanon: now that he has an actual apartment, dazai keeps an eclectic amount of collections from his interests. books, letter openers, handheld torture devices, little 100 yen gachapon figures. it's not to the level of hoarding, but it's much more than the normal level of collecting that your average person would have

unpopular opinion: dazai has a comorbid cluster b personality disorder but you're all too cowardly to admit that

song i associate with them: a mask of my own face - lemon demon

favorite picture of them: https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/4657637

izaya

favorite thing about them: i'm realizing i hate this question because there's never really just one thing. i love how he he tangents and how he loves to hear himself talk, and i love how he power trips without ever fully going to a place where he can't recover from a blunder

least favorite thing about them: his hairline... he's gonna be bald by 40

favorite line: listen... this isn't a direct quote from him but ABOUT him but it's my favorite thing that just explains him so well: “He may seem cold-blooded, but he is more human and his heart more brittle than anybody else’s, so much so that if you filled it with human love or betrayal, it would break easily, which is why, I think, he chose from the beginning to avoid it all, to love humanity, you understand? Not to accept, not to face it. To avoid it.”

brOTP: kadota and izaya!! i think they're pretty chill

OTP: shinzaya bc i can't say my other otp....

nOTP: there's only very certain instances i will even look at shizaya because of the fandom. and fanon shizaya ain't it.

random headcanon: izaya collects different scents of cologne that he gets as gifts from ~ certain ~ clientele, and will use it when he wants to impress. his favorite scents are usually ones with high fruit tones but nothing too aggressive that the subtlety can't speak for itself

unpopular opinion: i think people in the fandom are incapable of seeing izaya as either this troll character with very little substance besides being a nuisance or being a cocksleeve for shizuo when he's actually an integral pivot for most everyone's character development in the series because of his meddling and the SEVERAL strings that he has to pull at any given time.

song i associate with them: cotards solution - will wood and the tapeworms

favorite picture of them: unfortunate source but it's from the doujin ABBERANCE!!

10:52 pmpdt 25 March 2023 Saturday

10:53 pmpdt I see more signs 🪧 of death 💀 from incubus on tv 📺 on jeopardy. A guy named rob said prions. I was told prions causes mad 😡 cow 🐮 disease 🦠 . He is threatening me. He also made me hit my heel to my shin. Shi ne? Might be die in Japanese. I think 🤔 he’s saying if I heal I die? That’s fine with me. Samarai sword 🗡 decapitation please. 10:56 pmpdt diarrhea. 10:57 pmpdt

11:01 pmpdt I guess this is what they mean by the old phrase are you ready to meet your maker? The closer you are to god the more tests you face. Dientest. Teeth 🦷. 11:02 pmpdt any involvement with him is a death ☠️ trap 🪤. Even if he jokes about being married to you, if he’s joking about it it probably means there is something he’s trying to hide (hot acid burn 🔥 butt 11:03 pmpdt)

11:05 pmpdt I seem to have to close the browser and navigate 🗺 in a new browser back to tumblr to see my updated post. 11:07 pmpdt last year when he (butt bones 🦴 scrap chisel? Pain 😖😭 11:08 pmpdt) he really tricked me Bcz he added stuff. He really put on a show. So it got me to thinking 🤔 how? Was I not really sleeping 😴 when I thought 💭 I was? Did he swoop in for 15 minutes at a time throughout my days after school 🏫? It really does seem like a lie now. 😞 and an excuse to steal away my bones 🦴 Bcz of what he put me through with Brendan lean. It really looks like he wants to erase my experiences with him, make it look like I imagined the whole thing. Mean. If he made me believe that to buy him time to slowly kill me with insanity, I have to wonder 💭 what he was really doing with his time if he really relied on making people believe he is my husband? Secretly without showing me how he did it. He only hinted at stuff in my mind. No actual material stuff. So I am probably being gas lit 🔥 more Bcz when I was picked up 🆙 by emts b4 I ran away they said & treated me with various attitudes that only denied 🙅‍♀️ me my breathing problems & one questioned me in private in the ambulance 🚑 in a sinister? Way. At first he was nice at my door 🚪 outside and then he seemed to question my psychological state of mind in the ambulance 🚑 in a very scary way. And when I ran away and was picked up 🆙 they put me in the psychiatric? Part of the hospital 🏥. There were some mellow people and there was a young woman who walked a lot talking to herself and the last time I went there was an older woman who had a split multiple personality disorder possibly? But incubus really wants to hide Brendan Lean and Melissa Cuen from me. It’s bothering me. Especially when he dropped a lot of hints and no one will do anything about Brendan Lean. I mention to some people at the hospital 🏥 about my online affair with him but they always lose interest and walk away without seeming to look 👀 into it and reporting back to me. They all forget. Even my mom. He is sabotaging it. 11:24 pmpdt Bcz he has a lot to hide. Possibly child rape. The incubus himself. But if he mislead a large population into thinking 💭 I’m his real wife, it’s Bcz he has bad secrets to hide. And Brendan lean is a lynch pin. I think he’s stalling for time. Pretending he’s going to follow through on something when all he plans to do is kill me. 11:27 pmpdt

11:28 pmpdt I think this treatment and form of sabotage looks too similar to the way police chose to omit searching garrido’s shed. Same Tactics over and over again. 11:28 pmpdt

11:31 pmpdt in 2008 I dated a young man who I thought had a really nice handsome face. He was mellow and seemed really nice. I thought about kissing him only when we were in the movie theater together to watch Batman but he seeemed anxious about something so I didn’t try. Before that he had told me he liked me and I think it was the first time I really said the words to a guy’s face “I like you, too” but I didn’t kiss him or anything s*xual. I wasn’t ready yet (acid throat pain 11:34 heart♥️ chest pain 11:35 pmpdt) so if you are reading this now so you now I didn’t go to the p*lice yet about him. None of the medical professionals cared. It probably means the p*lice won’t care. And hospitals don’t care about rape. Most hospitals don’t have rape kits. A rape victim usually has to hunt down a hospital with a rape kit to get help. If all hospitals don’t accommodate, you can tell what the temperature of the nation is based on that about rape. You think they would do that at least for the children. 11:38 pmpdt incubus is the hospitals’ god. That snake on the staff I think I read is a sign of a Greek or Roman god of sickness. Incubus = pestilence = snake on staff. 11:40 pmpdt

11:40 pmpdt if Nick carter is really a rapist, does that mean all rapist are rich? And pay off hospitals with donations? And pay off the p*lice? 11:41 pmpdt

2:20 am pdt I think incubus drove a wedge into the bottom of my left side hip, probably to make it easy for the ball socket joint if the hip to pop out. 2:22 am pdt cramps groin 2:23 am pdt he did it hours ago, but it was soon after I wrote and saved at 11:41 pmpdt 2:24 am pdt I guess it’s ok with medical professionals & police if children are raped? They didn’t have a genuine enough interest in garrido and dugard, so I guess they didn’t have a genuine interest in catching a new s*x offender whose a man? I guess human s*x trafficking and rape is what makes a man a man? (Burning pain under left eye & bottom lip 2:28 am pdt) so I am the one who is (right hip bone pain 2:28 am pdt) koo koo? Crazy? & Shannon Ruth? God permits that behavior Bcz he’s guilty himself?( Vag acid pain 2:30 am pdt) the devil comes to steal, kill & destroy. Destroy & kill through several different methods including disease? Devil’s name is (acid in brain pain 2:32 am pdt) “god Israel” which sounds like god is real. The definition of evil in 2018? Was going against god. What did eve do? She ate forbidden fruit of knowledge. You know what fruit does to women’s bodies that I didn’t know until the end of the year (more increased acid pain in brain 2:35 am pdt) 2021 when I was still not very absurd looking? Most of the absurdity making of my body happened in the first 6 months of last year. Transformation was that quick. Ariana grande might know. Fruit... makes women taste sweet... and men enjoy it. Didn’t realize it until then! God is hoarding fruit for his whores! An 11 year old girl died of diabetes Bcz her parents did not seek to give her medical attention. They only prayed to god. They are partially serving time for her death. My mom took me to the hospital. She did her part. The hospital wouldn’t even help me by giving oxygen. That’s the very least they could have done. 2:41 2:42 am pdt but it’s ok. They probably make things worse. Maybe that’s why they ignored garrido’s problems with s*xual addiction and let him go even though he was caught outside of an elementary school masturbating and kidnapped and raped a 14 year old b4 dugard. It wasn’t enough for the alarm bells. It wasn’t enough that dugard was missing and that in the Bible it says the dragon is the one in charge? I have to review that. I don’t know I guess I’m barking up the wrong tree. If we don’t have an over population problem and we can have full lives and not run out of supply and have family planning si we don’t have an over population problem (stinging hot air out of right nostril)(dragon’s spit water. They don’t breathe fire. Found out via YouTube Mulan movie commentary video 2:50 am pdt) auto correct changed words again ... but I guess that’s assuming a lot like I’m assuming that maybe I’m close now to my (sharps pain anus and vag right hip) 2:53 am pdt the part when I try not to be a whore and try not to do bad things.... in sailor moon in the past I’m guessing all the planets in the solar system were full of people. I guess god doesn’t want that. I wonder how big the universe is and why I didn’t see stars (acid pain mouth 2:56 am pdt) a few hours ago. In the apocalypse it says he will block a third of the sky I forget what else. Are there planets very very very very very very very far away? Is there possibly life, human life that could spontaneously spring up from that far away come find us with out god knowing? 2:59 am pdt

5:03 am pdt I think I smell sulfur? Is that a gas leak from where? It here is a heater with air conditioner. I don’t think it’s gas. Electric stove. So where would there be gas? Maybe there is a water heater on this floor? So is it coming from the faucet? Maybe that’s not gas either???? Why would there be gas if everything is electric? 5:07 am pdt I could not breathe for the last few hours. Incubus said black lung in Sunday morning making of music video video and he wore bell bottoms in that music video and on stage in Las Vegas. 5:08 am pdt 5:09 am pdt should I be concerned about the smell here? 5:09 am pdt I’m getting sleepy.

other nice things about iontbo in it's final third of the story - kmy's character growth! finally! mst protecting and calming that old man who was in a panic attack just like mgt does for him! in general mst's increased confidence and pride in himself and his determination to confront and move on from what happened to him. I love him so much

kmy and ju-ri being friends WOULD be nice but they don't actually feel like friends the show just tells us they are 😭

discussion of child abuse under the cut

the entire show I've admired the way kmy was written in reaction to her father dying...very few times have I seen it depicted that survivors absolutely refuse to forgive their abusive parents, refuse to consider their point of view, refuse to empathize with them, or refuse to try to reconnect with them. kmy doesn't want to spend time with her father. she has no interest in improving their relationship. she refuses calls from the hospital and she treats him as if he's already dead. she frequently affirms that she doesn't care what happens to him no matter how he's related to her. she only interacts with him to prove a point to him. consistently. and this is an unusual character but it's such a satisfying arc to watch after seeing how abuse survivors are usually written

the single concession she makes is sharing a story about something kind he did for her as a child, but that changes nothing about what he did to her. but she doesn't make a move to go to him as he's dying because dying doesn't absolve anyone of the hurt they've done. she'd rather be with her friends and her new family. and she clearly still has some conflicting feelings after his death - we can see her stone-faced staring at his urn - but as a whole her reaction to him is just. chef kiss. I think it conveys the nuance that would be realistic without diminishing her for her feelings. her father's final words may have been regretful and tearful, but she wasn't obligated to be there and cry with him. even if he acted the way he did out of motives that are slightly more noble than she expected, and no matter than he had a brain tumor interfering with his judgement. he still hurt her

this show covers quite a lot of cases of child abuse, domestic violence, and trauma but none relating to sexual violence which does make me think. was it too upsetting to include? too messy?

this show also shies away from structural violence and systemic problems, leaning more towards individual mistreatment and individual mental illnesses. the most troubling implication is how the murderer is written...honestly I think the murder plot is very jarring and doesn't fit the rest of the story at all. having the obsessive, abusive, controlling, murderous character so heavily tied to mental illness really weakens the message that people with mental illnesses and personality disorders are human beings deserving of compassion who have a high chance of experiencing, or are currently undergoing, some kind of trauma

like they could have very easily made their main villains the people who mocked and humiliated mst, or the politician who mistreated his bipolar son, or any of the abusive parents and spouses the patients encounter. but they had to make it this ~crazy~ woman who's oohh hiding in the shadows the whole time because she's so evil and sneaky and manipulative and loves tormenting the children she once knew. because...she's crazy?

related to that - that reveal came out of NOWHERE! now that I know who the murderer is, nothing changed. this was a pporly written reveal...no hints, no suggestions, it's nonsense. the character's behavior was exactly as expected of her in her role. no satisfaction in the rewatch, nothing new gleaned, and no way to predict this very random character was the killer. besides like, she has access to the hospital

and oh, a psych hospital for the site of a haunting. very original and not at all encouraging the very mindset it seems to be trying to counter

OH. also how did kmy grow up in a house with a father who tried to kill her? did she just live with him until she was 18? this was never explained

AND ANOTHER thing. I don't know if this is the same in SK but a pt with a brain tumor wouldn't even be in a psych hospital. that is a medical problem - unless experiencing depression or other psych issues, he would be in a cancer center! MAN

Robert Lacey excerpt

I fully expect them to say William was the one commenting about the baby’s skin color after this. Battle stations! Book excerpt

The Times

Prince William ‘split his household from Prince Harry after Meghan bullying claims’

June 07 2021, 7.00am BST

‘So, are you saying,” asked Oprah Winfrey, talking to Meghan and Harry in their famous interview of March 2021, “that there were hints of jealousy?”

She was inquiring about the Sussexes’s wildly successful tour of Australia and the South Pacific of late October 2018, and the couple shifted uncomfortably in their plush wicker chairs.

“Look,” replied Harry, “I just wish that we would all learn from the past.”

By bringing up “the past”, the prince was venturing into an area that was almost taboo. He was making a sensational comparison between his mother and his wife. Harry was suggesting that Meghan had demonstrated in Australia the same massive star quality as Diana and was now having to face the family envy that went along with that.

“It really changed,” he said, “after the Australia tour, after our South Pacific tour . . . it was . . . the first time that the family got to see how incredible she is at the job. And that brought back memories.”

Memories of what? Again Harry shied away from putting words to the almost unmentionable. But Oprah had prepared and polished this moment, like so many others in the interview, and she had a reference ready to prompt her prince’s revelation. The latest, fourth season of TV’s The Crown had depicted Charles and Diana’s 1983 tour of Australia, showing how Diana had been “bedazzling” in her ability “to connect with people”. Episode six had depicted how the crowds would groan when they realised that Charles, not Diana, was walking down their side of the street — hence the beginnings of the “jealousy” on the family’s part.

“So is that what you’re talking about?” asked Oprah. “It brought back memories of that?”

“Yeah,” Harry finally replied in a fashion that was both dismal and unmistakably aggressive.

What on earth had happened, viewers had to wonder, to the old and once-familiar happy side of Prince Harry?

When trying to define the moment that marked the decisive rift with his brother William — the break-up and actual separation of the joint household they had established together in 2009 — Harry would fix upon his triumphant return with Meghan from their Australian tour at the end of October 2018. But if asked the same question, William would have fixed on a more specific event: the explosive argument he had had with his brother earlier that month.

Both brothers agreed how bitterly they had clashed back in the early days over William’s attempt to slow Harry’s courtship of Meghan — “Don’t feel like you need to rush this . . . ” But both of them had subsequently moved on. Harry’s transparent contentment with Meghan had relaxed the tensions, give or take the odd row over bridesmaids’ dresses. The “no speaks” had eased just a little by the time “best man” William escorted his brother down the aisle in May 2018.

Then five months later came the conclusive and determining rupture — the division that has lasted to the present day — though here the brothers’ retelling of history diverged. As Harry explained it to Oprah, Meghan’s Australian tour success sowed the jealousies that caused feelings to “change”. According to this scenario, William and Kate resented the Diana-like popularity that was generated by Harry’s wife. William had a different recollection.

We now know that Princes William and Harry were no longer on speaking terms before the Sussexes set off for Australia. Feelings had already “changed”, as Harry put it, and drastically so. The brothers had parted on extremely poor terms, with the trouble centring on Meghan’s stringent treatment and alleged bullying of her staff.

Most Kensington Palace courtiers were noted for the comparatively long tenures of their comfortable and prestigious jobs. But it came to look as if employees could not wait to escape service with Harry and Meghan. Those who left formed themselves into an informal fraternity that they titled the “Sussex Survivors’ Club”. They had finally hit back, and their organising agent had been PR man Jason Knauf.

The joint communications secretary for Kensington Palace — who was still, at that date, working on behalf of both of the brothers and their wives — had become concerned by the numerous stories of mistreatment being brought to him by colleagues whom he knew well and trusted.

Texas-born and New Zealand-educated, Knauf, 34, was a popular character in Kensington Palace, widely noted for his friendliness and loyalty towards his colleagues. He had been considered a real “catch” when the brothers snared him from the Royal Bank of Scotland in 2015, and one of his concerns was that professional management practices should be more effectively enforced inside the traditional British palace. Knauf’s American sensibilities caused him to see the Meghan situation as raising principles of human resources management in the palace system that needed to be formally addressed.

Knauf’s first priority was to set down the facts, as he saw them, for the record: “I’m very concerned,” he emailed to William’s private secretary Simon Case, in a document he drafted in October 2018, “that the duchess was able to bully two PAs out of the household in the past year.”

Knauf described Meghan’s treatment of one aide as “totally unacceptable . . . the duchess seems intent”, he wrote, “on always having someone in her sights”. Specifying another staff member, Knauf alleged Meghan had been bullying her as well, “seeking to undermine her confidence”. His office had received “report after report”, he wrote, from people who had witnessed “unacceptable behaviour” by Meghan towards this member of staff.

“Meghan governed by fear,” claimed one courtier. “So many people said it. Nothing was ever good enough for her. [She] humiliated staff in meetings, [would] shout at them, [would] cut them off email chains — and then demand to know why they hadn’t done anything.”

As early as 2017, around the time of the couple’s engagement, according to a subsequent report in The Times, a senior aide had spoken to the couple about the difficulties caused by their treatment of staff. “It’s not my job to coddle people,” Meghan was said to have replied.

“Americans can be much more direct,” wrote the authors Omid Scobie and Carolyn Durand in defence of the duchess, “and that often doesn’t sit well in the much more refined institution of the monarchy.”

A Brit might have raised an eyebrow at Meghan’s alleged behaviour, then looked the other way. The Yank decided to act. Knauf was actually one of Meghan’s most senior advisers — her chief adviser, in fact, when it came to public relations. Earlier that year she had gone to Knauf for help when drafting the disputed letter of severance that she sent to her father. She valued his PR expertise.

Before that, Knauf had helped Harry to word the fierce anti-media statements that he had framed to try to protect Meghan from press harassment, both as his girlfriend and then as his fiancée. The PR man had taken considerable stick from some of his non-royal contacts who criticised him as being overprotective in fighting the newcomer’s corner. Like so many people in all the palaces, Knauf had started off on Meghan’s side.

But as the months went by the American’s feelings became more ambiguous, as numerous colleagues — women whom he greatly respected — continued to bring him stories of what they said they had suffered at Meghan’s hands.

“I can’t stop shaking,” one aide had told a colleague in anticipation of an encounter with Meghan. Another reported that the prospect of confrontation with the duchess had made her “feel sick”. “Emotional cruelty and manipulation”, were the words of a third, “which I guess could also be called bullying.”

The b-word featured prominently in the accounts of several, along with an even more sinister set of initials: PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder was a deeply serious condition to allege — flashbacks, nightmares and feelings of deep anxiety — but that was how one complainant said that they had felt.

Several people maintained they had been “humiliated” by the duchess, and that criticism extended to Harry as well.

“I overheard a conversation between Harry and one of his top aides,” recalled one Kensington Palace courtier. “Harry was screaming and screaming down the phone. Team Sussex was a really toxic environment. People shouting and screaming in each other’s faces.”

Shouting and screaming? PTSD? Making people feel sick? Prince William went ballistic when he heard the “dossier of distress” that Knauf had gathered. We do not know whether the communications secretary brought his allegations directly to his boss or submitted them via Simon Case. What we do know is that the prince was astonished and horrified. He was instantly furious at what he heard.

“I remember Christian Jones [William’s press secretary and later private secretary] explaining to me how the Cams [the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge] are paternalistic with their staff,” recalls one royal correspondent. “They copy the Queen in that respect with all her Christmas parties and Christmas presents to her people. They’re proud to treat their staff like family. They recognise that they don’t get paid loads of money, so they are just really nice to them. So this was a very deep clash of philosophies, with Meghan being used to a Hollywood service culture — getting exactly what she wanted whenever she wanted in that famous way that Harry said.”

William personally knew and liked all the individuals whom Knauf had named in his dossier. The prince regarded them as assets to his household — colleagues to be cherished and for whom he was responsible. Human beings. Like Knauf, the prince was appalled that his respected staff may have been put in this position.

For William, Knauf’s allegations also clarified something that the prince had long believed — that Meghan was fundamentally hostile towards the royal system, which she failed to understand as an outsider. William wondered if she had not wanted to leave from the very start — even dreaming, perhaps, that she could whisk Harry back with her to North America.

But Meghan’s lawyers and PR representatives said this was quite the wrong interpretation of their client’s thinking and behaviour in a statement that they issued to The Times early in March 2021. They denied all allegations of bullying as inaccurate and the product of what they described as a “smear campaign”. The duchess wished to fit in and be accepted, they insisted. She had left her life in North America to commit herself to her new role.

I have never met Jason Knauf. What you have just read is based upon the published accusations that Knauf set down on paper — refuted as “defamatory”, it must be stressed again, and “based on misleading and harmful information” in the view of the Duchess of Sussex’s lawyers. It also relies upon William’s personal account of these events to one of his friends who then spoke to this author.

The moment the prince heard the bullying allegations, he related to this friend, he got straight on the phone to talk to Harry — and when Harry flared up in furious defence of his wife, the elder brother persisted. Harry shut off his phone angrily, so William went to speak to him personally. The prince was horrified by what he had just been told about Meghan’s alleged behaviour, and he wanted to hear what Harry had to say.

The showdown between the two siblings was fierce and bitter. William’s pre-engagement questioning of Meghan’s suitability had been quite reasonable, in William’s opinion. His fraternal doubts had been provisional, based upon how the new recruit appeared to be. The elder brother did not really know Meghan in those early days.

But now William had seen enough of his sister-in-law to feel sure that, sadly, he did know her and that many of his reservations linked unhappily with what Knauf’s colleagues had alleged. William believed Meghan was following a plan — “agenda” was the word he used to his friend — and the accusations he had just heard were alarming. Kate, he said, had been wary of her from the start.

Meghan was undermining some precious principles of the monarchy, if she really was treating her staff in this way, and William was upset that she seemed to be stealing his beloved brother away from him. Later courtiers would coin a hashtag — #freeHarry. It was only half a joke.

“Meghan portrayed herself as the victim,” recalled one Kensington Palace staffer, “but she was the bully. People felt run over by her. They didn’t know how to handle this woman. They thought she was a complete narcissist and sociopath — basically unhinged. Which was why the pair of them were drawn to each other in the first place — both damaged goods.”

William felt deeply wounded. “Hurt” and “betrayed” were the two feelings that he described to his friend. The elder brother had always felt so protective. He had seen it as his job to look out for Harry but this was the moment the protection had to stop. At the end of the day the British crown and all it stood for with its ancient traditions, styles and values — the mission of the monarchy — had to matter more to William than his brother did.

Harry, for his part, was equally furious that William should give credence to the accusations against Meghan, and he was fiercely combative in his wife’s defence. Some sources maintain that in the heat of the argument Harry actually accused someone in the family of concepts that were “racist”. But it must be stressed that neither brother has ever confirmed that the hateful r-word was used face to face.

Only William and Harry can know what they said to each other and they have respectfully maintained their silence on that. But Harry made clear to the world in his interview with Oprah that he considered his family’s response to Meghan to have been essentially racist — using the heavily freighted code words “unconscious bias” to provide an intellectual framework for his analysis.

Where could the two brothers go after such painful and damning notions had been thrown into their debate?

We have reached the crux of the drama. What painfully unforgettable and surely unforgivable things have been said? These are not passing differences. They are two core sets of values in conflict — love versus duty — going to the very heart and deriving from the deepest beliefs and loyalties of each man. Two opposing identities butting heads. In the months following the tragic and not-obviously bridgeable rift of October 2018 between William and Harry, the younger brother solidified his belief that his family were suffering from “unconscious bias”.

William, for his part, felt just as strongly about Meghan and the need for her subversive “agenda” to be removed from the operations of the British monarchy, which she did not appear to understand or respect. He certainly wanted Meghan removed, for a start, from the hitherto harmonious joint household that he and his brother had operated together for the best part of a decade. William simply did not want her or Harry around any more.

When accounts of the rift started seeping out through the winter months that followed, it was generally assumed that the volatile Harry must have set the pace in the splitting up of the joint Kensington Palace household. He was the brother who visibly departed, stalking off to set up a new home in Windsor, with offices for himself and Meghan in Buckingham Palace.

But the reverse was the case. It was William who made the decisive move. Following his furious confrontation with his younger brother in the autumn of 2018, the prince instructed Simon Case to start the process of dividing their two households immediately. William wished to be separated from Meghan on a day-to-day basis — and that meant being separated from his brother as well.

“William,” says a friend, “threw Harry out.”

©Robert Lacey 2021 Extracted from Battle of Brothers: William, Harry and the Inside Story of a Family in Tumult by Robert Lacey, to be published by William Collins on June 24 at £9.99

I personally love Mona. She made the girls seem more unlikeable, especially with the way they treated her throughout the seasons (yet they easily forgave Ezra for the predatory shit he did). I hate that the writers didn’t have the balls to make the girls imperfect. Say what u want about the books but Sara Shepherd never shied away from making the girls assholes. Instead of the girls being unfortunate bystanders to the wrongdoings of Alison, they were actually unlikeable, so it made sense why so many people in the town hated them.

I also wish they made Alison the villain she always was in the first two seasons. If she isn’t gonna stay dead, make her come back and shake some shit up. Like…Alison straight up gave Hanna an eating disorder! They kept reminding us that Alison could possibly be a sociopath. If she’s gonna be one, lean into it ! (Bc why else would she have the girls go on a wild goose chase for two years?)

Well, the show has a specific perspective. Like I said in another ask, I'm here for complicated characters. I'm totally fine with the girls being imperfect. Maybe they bullied Mona or at the very least did nothing while she was being bullied, and Mona retaliates by being A. I get that completely. But the problem is, the show frames Mona as a blanket villain and then later as a villain in search of redemption, and I don't really agree with that view. Alison terrorized Mona and the girls did nothing about that. The show uses Mona's mental illness to dismiss her valid pain and trauma. Bullying is terrible and traumatic and the girls were friends with her bully. They even talked shit about her. Hannah was Mona's only friend and she basically abandoned her to be Alison's lackey. So I genuinely believe Mona had valid beef with them and that doesn't necessarily make the girls assholes per se, only if they never confront their behaviour or lack there of. Like teenagers are terrible people, that's what happens when you're an unfinished human without enough parental supervision. But the show didn't nuance them in a way where you could explore their feelings WHEN they make those choices. Which is a missed opportunity for sure because it would've added more texture to the show.

Alison as a villain who became a victim was cool with me. Like I said, I enjoyed the concept of each girl having a different relationship with Alison and me as the viewer putting the pieces together over time to realize that she isn't this innocent lil girl who was unjustly murdered. She gave a lot of people in that town reason to want to murder her ass. That's fun! The whodunnit angle is great! I even like the idea of Alison's murder being a fucking group project lol. Where there's no one person individually responsible from the A team, but she HAD to go, and the girls grappling with that.

Honestly I don't even see the point of bringing her back. When they did I was like...well...it IS season *checks notes* 5, how else are they gonna keep people watching? But like I said, it really undercut the emotional development of the girls up until that point. I think if she was gonna come back it should've been sooner. But that meant ending the show sooner so...ya know.

As far as Ezra, like I said, the show's perspective was that Aria/Ezra are some sort of star crossed lovers (nevermind that a man in his mid 20s would have NOTHING to talk to a TEENAGER about but anyway), and they're teenagers. Their protests about Aria dating their teacher was actually, pretty funny and a very teen response. But they aren't the ones who I would expect to be like "omg predator". The ADULTS are, and they DO. When Ezaria (no idea if that's a thing i'm just tired of writing both their names) are discovered, it blows UP. Her parents won't let her leave the house or talk to anyone, they consider going back to iceland. He loses his job, it's a LOT. Aria literally has to go on a mini campaign convincing everyone from her parents to the principal that it's all just a rumour and nothing is actually happening between them so Ezra can get a semblance of his life back. So I think they handled the fall out relatively well, because every adult that finds out about them is disapproving and disgusted, while the kids are like....lol what the fuck. The problem is, the show frames that as an injustice to them as a couple. Because they love each other SO MUCH despite their age difference (like it's not JUST about age it's about the power that age gives him as well as being her fucking teacher). So when Aria is sitting alone in the rain thinking it's all over and Ezra shows up *despite his better judgment swoon*, the music swells because STARCROSSED LOVERS. It's a romanticization of this kind of relationship. Not a true telling. So I'm not shocked the girls were "forgiving" of him because he's not framed as predatory. He's framed as Aria's older boyfriend.

Traits of Adult Children of a Narcissistic Parent

1. Indecision and Guilt

Adult children of narcissistic parents fear that they will hurt someone else by choosing to do what’s right for them. They have been ‘trained’ to consider their parent’s needs first and foremost, and it is therefore hard for them to consider their own needs without feeling selfish for doing so. This indecision and guilt can be paralysing for years.

2. Internalised Gaslighting

Gaslighting is a form of psychological manipulation in which a person or a group covertly sows seeds of doubt in a targeted individual, making them question their own memory, perception, or judgement.

Growing up with a narcissistic parent can leave the adult child feeling that they have very little to offer, even when the contrary may be true. Growing up, their talents and skills may have been downplayed, ignored, or co-opted by the narcissistic parent who will have felt threatened by their child’s skills.

Even when the now adult experiences success, they may feel that they don’t deserve it and this can give rise to imposter syndrome.  

3) Love and Loyalty

Even after growing up amid lies, manipulation, and abuse, it can be really difficult for adult children of narcissists to step away from caring for and loving their narcissistic parent. They will likely feel guilt for trying to step away or input boundaries, and may even enter into relationships with partners who show narcissistic traits. A love that is based on manipulations and conditions is something that is known to them, whereas a love that is unconditional might seem quite terrifying.

4) Strength and Resilience

Very often, adult children of narcissistic parents display a great ability to show compassion and love for others, are able to form loving relationships, and to learn to love and care for themselves. It is possible to recover from growing up with a narcissistic parent, and this will be discussed later in this article.

5) Chronic Self-blame

Whether or not the parent is openly abusive to the child, they are almost always emotionally tone deaf, and are too preoccupied with themselves and their own concerns to hear the pain of their child. As discussed earlier, in order to try to maintain the family unit, the child (even if they are now an adult) shies away from blaming their parent and instead takes all the blame on themselves; “If I was better at…”, “If I wasn’t such a difficult child…” and so on.

This can continue into adulthood, where the adult child continues to take the blame for things that aren’t always their fault. They become the scapegoat in many situations purely in order to keep the peace.

6) Echoism

Echoists and Narcissists complement each other and you can read more about Echoism here. Essentially, narcissistic parents can explode into anger or burst into tears without much warning, which forces their children to take up as little space as possible in order to avoid triggering one of these emotional outbursts. It can feel like walking on eggshells; trying to do everything possible to avoid their parent having a meltdown.

7) Insecure Attachment

Adult children of narcissists are likely to become insecurely attached to their parent; never experiencing that safe base that they need in order to feel comfortable exploring their environment.

The neglect, manipulation, or emotional absence of a parent can leave their child questioning how safe they will be able to feel in other people’s hands. This leads some adults to become fiercely independent, not trusting that anyone else can be relied upon. However it can lead others to cling to their partners for love and demand the attention of their significant other at all times.

8) Parentified Child

Children who grow up with a narcissistic parent will have organised their whole life and personality around the happiness of their parent, and will then grow up organising their life around the happiness of others – many of them working in the helping professions. You can read more about parentified children here.

How You Can Move Forwards

There are many different ways that you can move forwards and heal from being raised by a narcissistic parent. I would recommend that you don’t attempt to do this alone; whether you enter into a therapeutic relationship or work through your recovery with a partner is up to you. Working through this healing process with another family member could cause problems, so proceed with caution.

Here are some key steps that you can take to begin the healing process;

1) Recognise. As with anything, the first step is awareness. We can’t move on until we know what has caused us pain. If you are reading this article then it is probable that you suspect that one of your parents had narcissistic traits or Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

2) Study. Educate yourself about NPD and the impacts that it can have on the family system. Scour the internet, read text books, and talk to therapists who understand narcissism.

3) Recount your experiences. This exercise can be difficult, so I would definitely recommend that you get support with it. [Note from @c-ptsdrecovery: if you have symptoms of PTSD, I would NOT suggest doing this without a trained trauma therapist. They can help you recount your traumatic experiences without becoming overwhelmed by them.] For each sign and symptom of NPD, recall and write down your own experiences from childhood or adulthood that match.

For each of these memories, the narrative needs to be re-written with a new dialogue of “My parent is a narcissist and is treating me this way because of that.” There is no blame in this new dialogue; not for you, and not for your parent. This is a way of re-framing your experiences in the light of new information, and extricating the blame from yourself.

4) Identify. During the previous step, it is highly likely that some abusive, traumatic, and neglectful behaviour on the part of the narcissistic parent becomes evident. As painful as it might be, you will likely be able to identify emotional abuse and neglect (guilt-tripping, manipulating), and even psychological abuse (gaslighting or the silent treatment). You might also find examples of physical abuse, financial abuse (neglect or excessive gift-giving). It can be extremely helpful to work through these memories with a counsellor.

5) Grieve. there can be a lot of grieving involved in this type of healing. Both grieving for the childhood that you didn’t get, and also grieving for the image of your parent that has been shattered. As mentioned, growing up we only know what we know. And so, when you grow older and realise that other children had a very different childhood from your own, you might feel jealous, hard-done-by, and angry that you didn’t get to experience this.

You might have grown up protecting your parent, or idolising them, only to realise that they have actually caused you some harm. This can be quite de-stabilising and we may find that we need to grieve for the image that we used to hold of our parent.

6) Work through developmental milestones. It is very likely that, growing up, you missed some pretty important developmental milestones, and now is the time to start experiencing them and learning. Now is the time to explore your own identity, to experiment with your sexuality, with dating, with choosing what you want to study and what you really want to do with your life. You will very likely have to learn to ask for what you need (you can start off small, i.e. by asking for directions), to learn how to identify your emotions which were kept buried for so long, and to learn how to set healthy boundaries.

7) Understand. Finally, it is important to understand and come to accept that your narcissistic parent won’t change. As much as you might want to confront them, or as much as you do confront them, it is very unlikely that the parent will change their ways.

Confronting a narcissistic parent can cause some quite big arguments in families as, as mentioned earlier, a narcissist will feel great shame and vulnerability that their perfect image is being penetrated. This can lead to them becoming extremely defensive and angry.

It is also important to acknowledge, and maybe even forgive, your other parent. If one of your parent’s is a narcissist, it is likely that the other is an enabler. By going along with and/or excusing the narcissist’s abusive behaviour, enablers essentially normalise and sustain it. Sometimes enablers also assist the narcissist in their dirty work, condoning and perpetuating their abuse. By not naming the abuse and not protecting their kids from it, enablers become complicit, even if they are also victimised by it.

Of Ice and Blood

Part 3

Hey there! Thank you for taking the time to read this

There are so many left out details here that I did on purpose for future explanation within the fic for the element of mystery I'm trying to brew . Hope you don't mind! Enjoy reading❤

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

1.7k words.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: cursing, violence, injury and fighting.

*

Without thinking, I drove my fist towards the voice, regretting it the instant I recognized who it was.

Tai'chi.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when I found my fist encased in his hand. He seems unfazed by my reaction, seemingly expecting it.

“Oh shi— I’m so sorry!”

How the hell did he sneak up on me without making a sound??

“Feisty- I mean, I should be the one sorry, for startling you...And for following you. I just wanted to, make sure you were alright.”

I blinked. He was concerned?

He spoke up when I didn’t respond.

“So, are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine. Just, disappointed.” I breathed in and sighed as he gently let go of my fist.

Oh, and his scent helps right now. He smells so...wonderful I don’t know why. It’s not like I’ve been surrounded by disgusting odors my entire life. I swear I’ve inhaled appealing scents like lilac, sandalwood, cinnamon, even rain has its particular smell! But Tai'chi, he—he’s something else entirely.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else like, I don’t know, maybe getting lunch with some of your friends or in a classroom?” I asked. I wonder why he would even bother to be in my presence. Anyone should be creeped out by the way I spoke up earlier. I mean, who does that? Plus, I did throw a stranger down to the floor. But part of me knows he deserved that.

Definitely.

“Want to talk about it?” He ignored my question. Tai'chi was now sitting cross-legged beside me, the oak’s root in between us. His deep azure eyes studying, watching me carefully.

“What?”

“What you did back there, wasn’t something a plain, timid college girl would do.”

Wait. He knew I was pretending to be one?

“Yes, I knew.”

“You can read minds?!” I stammered out. He can read my mind this whole time?! Shit.

He held up for a second before a boisterous laugh broke out of him and echoed through the circling trees, scaring away some birds perched above. I don’t know if I should be offended or flustered by his guffaw. It was so, so deep and rich and —

What the hell Pearl? What if he's reading your mind??

Tai'chi faced me again, sighing once he calmed down.

“To answer your question, no, I can’t read minds. But like I stated before, your face gives it away. Or your brows since you’re wearing a mask, but I can imagine your expression.”

I let out an incomprehensible noise.

“How did you find out I was pretending to be…you know,” waving my hands around.

“The moment we made eye contact this morning when you entered. And the way you shifted your body at the last second to prevent yourself from plunging into the trash bin, I knew you were something more. Your eyes and your actions show your experience in combat. A skilled warrior would notice these little things right away.”

My jaw fell open, and I’m sure he knows. He left me speechless.

Should I tell him I am a trained martial artist and a weapon wielder?

But we just met like 5 hours ago!

He seems trustworthy. And he’s an orc, didn’t they have a code of honor or something?

My thoughts ran wild I swear Tai'chi could hear my mind, screaming.

“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t wish to. And I must’ve sounded, creepy when I admitted I’ve been observing you. But before anything else, will you allow me to introduce myself, for real this time?”

“You mean your name isn’t Tai'chi?”

Letting out a chuckle, he replied, “I swear to you, my name is Tai'chi. What I mean is, I want you to know my full name. Do you understand what this implies, Pearl?”

I racked my brain for a moment, trying to recall what my parents said about orc traditions when my uncle, papa’s brother, married the orcess he fell in love with. Something about an orc’s real name being reserved only to those they’re close to?

“I guess so? But what exactly?”

“I want to become your friend.”

I couldn’t help the slight warmth creeping into my cheeks behind my mask. He can’t see it, can he? A friend, he says. A friend!

“Oh,” was all that came out. A pause and;

“Uh, I mean, I’d love to be your friend! I never had an actual friend before. I mean, have cousins, but we aren’t acquainted enough to consider myself their friend— I mean— uh, what should I do?” I blurted out a little rapidly.

He smiled. He actually smiled! Oh, damn, it was adorable!

Tai'chi was about to say something, but he snapped his mouth shut and grimaced. I was confused by his sudden change of mood, along with his scent.

Then it struck me.

The two of us shot up when multiple smells filled the air, making my stomach clench.

We were followed, not just one but six individuals. One of them was the pretentious human from earlier.

My day can’t get any better. And is that a baseball bat? Great. Fucking great.

I swear. I’m cursed to find trouble anywhere I go.

“Hello, freaks.” The guy in the middle began. “Whatcha doin’ out here in the forest?”

The others began spreading out and surrounded us.

“Planning something nasty I bet.” A human to my right spat.

“You will pay for what you did to me, you bitch. Just so you know, my father is the dean of this university. No one will ever hear a word of what I did here and what we will do to you.

'Dean’s son, David Silverstone, assaulted by an insane student in the woods within campus grounds. His friends graciously helping him fight off the lunatic until she passed out and was carried to an isolation chamber for monitoring, later finding out about her severe psychological disorder.’ Now wouldn’t that be a hit in the papers!” The bastard and his companions cackled and snickered, some of them stealing glances between my legs and I felt my skin crawl.

Tai'chi growled lowly, silencing them for a brief moment. He was getting mad but held his ground.

“And you,” the human pointed, “you beast. It won’t be hard antagonizing you, people will no doubt believe you were the one who violated the schoolgirl and left her in the woods to die.”

This fucking—

I felt a hand on my shoulder just as I was about to start, gently gripping, in hopes of trying to calm me down. He knows they were baiting us on making the first move. He shook his head, and an idea popped up.

Taking a deep breath, I attempted to make my voice as girly as possible, sounding so hilarious, like those overdressed, flashy high school girls with flowery perfume so strong I wrenched every time I get a whiff of it.

Provoking them would do.

“Oh, I’m so scared! Should I get on my knees and beg for mercy? Oh please, great and noble one, have mercy on my poor soul.” My voice laced with mockery and sadness, with my legs fake trembling and my arms flailing.

And did Tai'chi just snort?

“If you beg nicely, I will perhaps give you a chance to— ”

My sudden wheezing interrupted him and I laughed. Hard. I can’t believe he bought my terrible acting! I expected him to straight-up be offended rather than actually bite the false bait. He is dumber than I thought.

I was holding my middle by the time I was done. Tai'chi’s shoulders were moving slightly, probably chuckling and trying to hold back his amusement.

“Did you honestly take it seriously??? I can't— oh my God!” I choked out once more before I went on.

“There’s no chance in hell I’m gonna bow to you, not even one degree of an angle, you foolish, idiotic, spoiled, bastardized son of a bitch.”

His face was turning red out of rage and oh! Wasn’t that a sight to behold?

“You brat!” Turning his head to the others, he yelled, “What are guys standing there for?! Get them!”

Good.

Perhaps they didn’t catch my hands slipping on my beloved crimson knuckle dusters out of the bag when I was laughing then, tugging down my hoodie’s sleeve to hide it.

“Don’t move.” I told the orc, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“But—”

“Just don’t.” I said with my voice firm. I will take them on my own. I can’t have him getting in trouble and people blaming him for being an orc. Imagine that. The ones who attacked him will be viewed as victims because they were up against him, an orc. Numerous humans will jump at the chance to throw dirt at their race, a single act of self-defense treated as a one-sided assault to humans, the thought of it being enough to somehow remove all of them from the city, but everyone knows it's not that simple. Dimwits.

I strode forward without earning his response, waiting for the first person to come at me.

I took my stance, although it was more of preparing half of my body since I was still hiding both of my hands.

They all seemed confused and hesitant, which was what I was going for. To me, and those with experience in hand-to-hand combat, this is one of the most basic stances, but fundamental, nonetheless. A simple form that can determine the outcome of a fight. With my right foot forward, left foot back, both firmly planted to the ground, and my dominant hand wearing my dusters. In their eyes, it was…wrong, foreign. Some may even say it’s an open vulnerability, showing how inexperienced the opponent is, but oh, it is the exact opposite.

I didn’t see Tai'chi’s expression, though. I was on alert and getting into my zone to peer at him, one motion that can put me in a compromising position. Did he notice my brass knuckles? Likely.

“Scared to hurt a little girl like me?” I enticed.

Finally, the one beside their alleged leader charged at me.

A typical amateur approach.

The guy, about two inches taller than me, threw a right punch, which was a huge mistake.

Predictable.

I smirked under my mask and dodged it not a second before it connected. Making him falter as I grabbed his arm and brought it down to my knee, dislodging his joints.

A high-pitched scream of pain broke out of him as he dropped down on the forest ground, gripping his bent-off arm, cursing, but refused to rise and fight me again.

I gave him one last glance before I looked back at the others.

“Who’s next?”

****************************************

Those human shits just can't leave them alone! Interrupting their supposed-to-be official introduction! There's more to the orc that meets the eye *wink* Who is he exactly? Why was he so... observant?

Part 4 is actually on its third revising— and I'm still trying to come up on HOW to phrase my next words to lead to part 5. I let me brain take a break from spewing senseless words for now so I'll probably post the next part of this later or tomorrow

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! And I'd appreciate it if you have some advice for me, or just point out some mistakes I made! Thank you

Ps. This is really not perfect formal writing if you're wondering. I just type away whatever comes into my mind, and then proofread it to the best I can. And I hope you don't mind me using a lot of spaces. It... sort of makes my mind clear and continue moving forward, and it helps me when I'm reading it again, mentally taking note that with every line between spaces there's a slight pause and again, read it clearly like you were the one thinking it. I don't know how to explain how my own brain works but I guess that's that?

Tags: @kokokatsworld @crackinanutshell

This is my letter to @taylorswift and I hope she can see it. I’m disabled with a brittle bone disorder & epilepsy, I’ve been through so much and just her reading it would mean the world. I need all my Taylor Swift friends to help me get this out there! I made a Tumblr just to get this done and to join in on the fun! I'm sorry for all the run on sentences and grammatical errors you're about to read, I'm typing this quickly and from the heart. I'm really a much better writer than this will suggest. My name is Sean & I am a probably one of the biggest fans of Taylor and I pray that my letter comes across as genuine as I mean it. To start I'll tell you a bit about me, which number one thing is to know, I am severely disabled. I was born with something called Osteogenesis imperfecta or simply OI, OI is a brittle bone disease that is usually passed on genetically but can sometimes be spontaneous mutation and in my case, my biological father had it as well. I had my first fracture when I was two weeks old and to date have had well over 200 of them. All throughout growing up I was in and out of hospitals, three major surgeries to put titanium rods through a few bones, I was in a double blind drug study and was diagnosed with asthma, sleep apnea, scoliosis and more along the way. It was rough but to be honest, I became very used to the medical side of things, it was my personal life that wore me down. When I was a child I was bullied severely and it never has truly stopped. I was beaten up, threatened, picked on and since an early age, I developed depression, by the time I was 10 I had already attempted suicide. I had no real outlet for my pain, I couldn't go out and "play" so I sat, festering in the horrible thoughts my mind kept producing, it really was a scary time, looking back. Around the age of 12, I started getting into music. Unlike most of the people who view music as a fun past time, I saw it as an escape from reality where I could feel a sense of normalcy, to live in another world and then bring back some peace of mind to figure out the problems in my own life. In music I wasn't in a wheelchair, no one hated me, I could do anything. Music was and is one of the only things that make life worth living, driving me to be creative and actually allowing myself to get better hand-eye coordination, amongst other physical things.I remember as I got older listening to Taylor's first record, I really dove into headfirst - it came at a time where my personal life was crumbling even more, I had graduated high school, couldn't find work and was realizing that the bullying aspect of my childhood wasn't going away but merely adapting to the outside world in the form of pure bigotry. I played that album all of the time to escape when I discovered it I was actually, again, contemplating suicide, I started it up and immediately remembered what creativity could do. Since then I've been a die hard fan and I have found myself really surviving from the inspiration she gives me. She not only stands for what her music says, but also never shies away from defending all who need it. Now what I am about to say is what happened to me in the last two years, it was very scary and I'm lucky to be alive. In March of 2017, I suffered two grand mal seizures without any prior history of epilepsy. I went into complete respiratory and cardiac arrest, was transported to the hospital and awoke with no knowledge of who or where I was. The emergency room doctors didn’t believe it to be a seizure and twelve hours later, I had another that was stronger than the first. These seizures, mixed with my brittle bone disorder, caused four broken bones with two so severe I required emergency reconstructive surgery. The second seizure also put me into cardiac and respiratory arrest where I was without any brain activity for two minutes. I was on life support for two weeks and now after the surgery, I’ve lost most functionality in my left hand due to extensive nerve damage. I’ve already spent my life in a wheelchair and now most of what little I could do on my own has been stripped from me.  I spent six months in a reclining wheelchair unable to move, lost my job and apartment and sold off everything I have to try and pay off the tens of thousands in hospital bills. I had no insurance when it all began and when I was approved for Medicaid, they wouldn't cover all of the past costs, neither did they cover completely any of the new ones. I had nothing left of myself and depression had come back tenfold. I felt worthless and a drain on my family, no longer able to really do anything for myself. Now eventually I did regain some independence, getting back in my wheelchair and being mobile, but still unable to work, make a living or do half of what I used to. It seemed like things were finally on the upswing. February 5th, 2018, I went back into the hospital after having a petite gran mal seizure caused by influenza A. I was admitted with a severely high carbon dioxide level and was put on an oxygen mask. That night, at 2:04 A.M., I again went in complete cardiac and respiratory arrest. My family got pulled away and they were told I had no pulse, the nurse wasn't hopeful, and the doctors thought it finally was over. Miraculously I was revived after 4 minutes being lifeless on the hospital bed. I woke up two days later with a breathing tube down my throat like before, I had multiple bone fractures and was kept sedated and under heavy pain medication. Doctors worked hard to figure what if anything could bring me back to normal, not even knowing if I'd even be able to speak again. By another miracle, I came off the ventilator with full cognitive function, all that remained were the bone fractures and fear of more seizure activity. I now have thousands in debt and can't work, I'm trying every day to make it better and I can say without her work she does to keep me inspired, I would not be here anymore. I'm living off of my GoFundMe which is here bit.ly/seanshealth . I can no longer really play guitar, which I did for ten years...with the extensive nerve damage, the layout of the neck for me just doesn't work. I create in any way possible because it's so important to me, it's something people don't understand is so important to me, but it really is. That's why I wanted to reach out to you and thank you. Taylor, for the work she does. The world can be beyond cruel, so many people don't care at all for the wellbeing of others and finding your place in the mess is a challenge, she gives me that focus and inspiration to be okay no matter what. I would not be alive without her work and that's a fact. Most people would find that pathetic but inspiration is an inspiration. Due to the epilepsy diagnosis, I know I can never live out my dream of seeing her live, the lights are no longer anything that I can handle. On top of that because I can't work and my massive debts, I don't own any of her music/items as I can't afford them, nor do I think I'll ever be able to live out my biggest dream of meeting Taylor. It's a sad truth that I've had to come to terms with but I thought passing along this letter may be my one shot to get my message across and maybe make some friends in the process. I suppose all in all I am just saying thank you to her for everything, for making me believe in myself, for making the world a better place with her work. I know firsthand of the darkness this world can cast but it's how we react and how we treat others that can define us. I know so many people share my sentiments and I hopefully speak for everyone when I say thank you to her for saving lives, for being who she is and I hope to realize my only dream one day of shaking her hand but most importantly, just knowing she may have heard my story is great enough... I hope everyone knows the impact everything you do can have on one person. I will continue to fight on.

Salty and Sweet

Hi! So, I’ve never posted here on tumblr before.. being totally honest, I just made this account a couple months ago so I could read some *good fanfiction* (and I haven’t been disappointed). Just a heads up, the rest of this post is about a sensitive topic: anxiety and panic attacks. I don’t want to accidentally trigger anybody. :(

I’ve been having a really hard time in the past few weeks; there have been a lot of medical emergencies with my close family members in addition to some family drama. I love to write, though, so I’ve been using it as an outlet. I recently wrote a (decent?) Asra fanfiction that helped me to vent out a lot of my internal and external struggles, and I thought maybe posting it here would be a good idea, in case it helped somebody else going through a hard time too. It’s easy for me to forget that my anxiety is not a flaw, not to mention that I have a support system here for me when I do have my emotional breakdowns, and I have to be reminded of that a lot/need a lot of affirmation from my s/o and my close friends. Everybody deserves an Asra in their lives, someone who loves you for who you are and will always be there for you, in any capacity you need. This is not meant to be a one-size-fits-all anxiety; this is just a reflection of my own personal struggles, the physical symptoms I’ve been feeling lately and the fear I’ve been experiencing over my immediate family finding out about my social/generalized anxiety disorder. Please don’t take it as me saying “oh, this is what all people with anxiety experience”; everyone with anxiety experiences it in a different way. I imagine mine like a fingerprint: nobody else in the world experiences anxiety in quite the same way that I do. Sorry, the preface got a bit longer than intended. This fanfic is basically what I imagine Asra doing for an apprentice who experiences anxiety on the regular, primarily what would happen when they have their first panic attack in front of him. If you’re reading this and you experience anxiety, I want you to know that you are so incredibly strong for making it through each and every day with it and that I’m sending a lot of love your way. <3 Salty and Sweet- (tried to have it be a) GN apprentice x Asra Alnazar. 1.7k wc. TW: anxiety and panic attacks It took every ounce of willpower within you to remain behind the shop's counter, a customer-service smile plastered to your face. It had been growing all day: the need to hide, a tightness in your chest that brought tears to your eyes which you had to carefully hide and brush away, lest anyone catch on to the fact that something was not right. You felt too tightly wound, like you would snap any second, and the fear of breaking at an inopportune time simply added to the anxiety growing within you. You had no idea what caused you to feel this way: always on edge, the smallest blunder setting off a massive overreaction. It had been this way for as long as you could remember. In all actuality, “as long as you could remember” was only three years, but you suspected this had been a long-term problem based on the quantity of calming teas and herbal remedies your past self stashed in your private drawers. Asra was in the back of the shop with the last customer of the day, performing a tarot reading for them. You couldn't leave the counter unattended, so you straightened the wares within the glass case and behind the counter with incredible desperation. Anything to preoccupy yourself until you could escape to the privacy of the upstairs, where nobody could see you. How you had been able to hide it for so long, you weren't sure, but you felt somewhere deep in your gut that Asra suspected something wasn't quite right. He had never walked in on your episodes despite living together for so long, but sometimes when you had to make a quick getaway into a private space you could see the question in his eyes, the slight part of his lips as he thought about asking. You feared the day he found out about them, the way he would react, how he would think of you. Your heart ached at the thought and you shied away from the thought of his rejection, the thought of him thinking less of you for having such uncontrollable bouts of unprovoked fear. Apparently you had been able to hide it from him well in the time you had been together prior to your death; at least, you assumed so, because Asra never said anything to you about it. You silently prayed that today would not be the day he discovered the flaw in your design, though the weight on your chest was becoming more unbearable by the second and your composure nearly impossible to keep. Tears were flowing more freely now, and you did not trust yourself to speak, feeling the tightness from your chest spreading to your throat as well. You focused on taking slow, even breaths, counting from one to five with each breath of herb-laden air in and out. The lavender on the shelf behind you was doing nothing to calm you at this point, and you fought not to hyperventilate. You heard rustling in the back room, the sound alerting you to the end of the reading, and you quickly turned to face the wall behind you, busying yourself with straightening the wares for the fourth time in the past hour. You could hear the fabric of the curtain rustling behind you as it was drawn back, the footsteps of both Asra and the customer slowly approaching then passing where you stood. You dared not turn around, afraid of your own expression. Asra and the customer engaged in idle chitchat, slowly approaching the front entrance, opening the heavy wooden door. The cool summer night breeze blew in through the crack of the door, washing over you and stirring the fabrics and hanging herbs interspersed throughout the store. "Have a good night," Asra gently ended the conversation, following the customer out to extinguish the lantern and flip the "Open" sign to "Closed" before reentering the shop. "Well, that's it for today," Asra sighed, sounding tired. "You've had a long day too, (Y/N). Looks like your entire stock of echinacea is wiped out." You swallowed thickly, afraid of your own voice but not wanting to tip Asra off by not responding to his banter. "Yep." Your voice cracked at the end and your stomach dropped, the feeling in your chest overwhelming you as the rest of your panic hit you in a large wave. "(Y/N)?" Asra asked, worry evident in his voice. Gods. Why now? Your breathing was speeding up of its own accord, and your body began to shake uncontrollably. You felt gentle hands come out of nowhere to grab you by the shoulders and you jolted, like a wild animal cornered, causing Asra to freeze. "(Y/N), what's wrong? Please look at me." Your body froze in place, afraid to let him see you in your current state. Though Asra was loathe to touch you after how you responded the first time, his concern for you and the foreignness of the situation caused him to reach out and gently capture your chin, directing your gaze towards his face. His brows furrowed and the corners of his lips turned downwards as he saw the tears spilling from your eyes, and he slid his hand up your jaw to rest on your cheek, using his thumb to brush featherlight touches across your skin. Suddenly feeling lightheaded and dizzy, you abruptly grasped his wrist, feeling your legs buckling underneath you. Asra's eyes went wide, and he quickly stooped to wrap his other arm around you, catching you from your fall to gently lower you to the ground. "Shh, shh, I'm here." Asra murmured into your hair, sitting beside you and holding your shaking body close as you rode the wave of your panic. While the touch wasn't unwelcome, you hated to let him see you like this, and you dreaded the explanation you would have to give him for this sudden emotional breakdown. After what felt like hours, finally your breathing began to slow, the tightness in your chest ebbing away into a blissful numbness. With your tears slowing, Asra gently lifted your face to meet his, thumbs gently brushing away the tears lingering on your cheeks. Asra continued to gently hush you, resting his forehead against yours and looking deeply into your gaze with his beautiful purple eyes. "I'm here, my love." His voice was soft, like a caress, and though he didn't understand what was going on he was determined to provide you the support you needed. The two of you sat like that for a few minutes more, with Asra's fingers brushing away the salty tears from your face and his plush lips leaving sweet, gentle kisses to the hairline above your forehead. When you had calmed, Asra leaned back to look at you fully, the question dancing in his eyes and in the set of his mouth. "Should I make tea?" Though not the question you had expected, you nodded gratefully. Calming tea would do wonders for you in this moment. Asra slowly stood, bringing you with him, treating you as carefully as you would a newborn babe or precious china tea set. Leading you to the little table in the kitchen, he sat you down, then began bustling about, putting hot water on the stove to boil in the beat-up kettle and pulling your favorite tea to put in the teapot. While he worked, he silently glanced over at you on occasion, worry written all over his face. When the kettle began to hiss and scream, he pulled it off, pouring the boiling water into the waiting teapot to steep. Grabbing the nearest two teacups and rinsing them out, he brought them to the table along with the teapot, set between you on a thick, woven piece of cloth. "Are you alright to talk?" Asra asked cautiously, afraid to push but concerned about you. You looked down at your hands, taking a deep breath as your heartrate increased exponentially. "Yes," you started, then felt your throat close up as emotion began to overwhelm you again. "Please don't think less of me." "My love, I could never think less of you. You can tell me anything." Asra spoke with deep conviction, reaching across the table with his right hand extended towards you. You reach out and take it with your left, looking up at him with watery eyes. Then you spill over. You tell him everything, your constant bouts of panic, the self-remedies you found in your private drawers, the inevitability of an emotional breakdown every time the smallest social blunder occurs or deviation pops up to your carefully laid out plans. Asra listens to it all with patience and kindness in his eyes, though his brows are still drawn together in worry. You carefully sip your tea, afraid of Asra's reaction, despite the numerous displays of his support to the contrary. It was a worry you couldn't help. Asra smiled gently at you, raising your hand to his lips for a kiss. "I promise you that I will find you a more potent remedy. You should not have to go through life like that, my love, and I can't imagine how hard it is for you." His soft voice carried across the table to your waiting ears, and he took a sip from his own cup, finishing off his tea and setting it back down. "I will always be here to support you, (Y/N). I value the trust you have in me. I will never think less of you, especially not for something like this." Your eyes fill with grateful tears. His reaction was completely different from the one you had feared he would have, and you abruptly rise from the table, rounding it and throwing yourself into his lap, twining your arms around him and burying your face in the crook of his neck. "Thank you, Asra." You said, arms tightening. "I love you." "I love you too." The two of you sat still for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company, breathing in their scent. Then, slowly, your eyelids began to drift shut, Asra's heartbeat guiding you into a calm, dreamless sleep.

Hmmm “when I did well” for Loki?

“When I did well, as a boy you used to put me in prison. Now if I do it being grown up, you will do worse to me.” 

CW for vague references to disordered eating, and to threatened corporal punishment and force-feeding. It’s not long and there’s nothing overt but I’m treading lightly, so under a cut it goes. PS: I usually like Odin, but this seemed all too plausible as I was writing it.

...Also I just realized I fucked this prompt up a bit. *facepalms*

(Read on AO3)

“No! No, I don’t want to!”

“Your ‘wants’ are not under discussion!” the king snapped, dragging his trouble-making younger son personally from the table in the royal family’s private dining room.

“But I wasn’t done eating!”

“Then you should have concentrated on your supper instead of making life a torment for your brother.”

“But he was–”

“And as you’re plainly not interested in your food, you can spend the rest of the evening in your room.”

“But Father–!”

“Enough!” Odin snarled, and Loki shut his mouth. He had a thousand other complaints - that Thor had been kicking him under the table and stealing bits of his meal from his plate, that it was the middle of summer and he’d wanted to go riding with his friends after supper, that he hadn’t meant to set the table cloth on fire, truly - but it wouldn’t do any good and he knew it.

If his father was taking the time to see to his chastisement personally, Loki needed to be quiet now, or else he’d get worse than being sent to bed without supper.

“You will be obedient,” said the king sharply, after he had tossed Loki into his chambers and warded the room against the child’s untimely escape. “You will be obedient and decorous, as befits a second prince of this realm, and you will cease this pointless harassment of your brother.”

“Or what?” said Loki sullenly, feeling the sting of injustice at that last point. “You’ll beat it into me?”

Odin’s eye darkened. “If necessary. Don’t let it come to that.”

***

Loki waved away the delicacies that his mother had caused to be brought to him in prison. “I’m not hungry,” he told the guard.

“You have not eaten in three days, and the king’s orders–”

“The king be damned,” Loki snarled. He picked up the platter and hurled it at the force-shield, sending a wave of golden knot-patterned particles rippling across the front of his cell. “If he wants me to eat so badly, he can see to me himself.”

Odin did not come to see him. It had been six or seven months since Loki’s extradition from Earth, and except for the day of his sentencing, Loki had not seen even a glimmer of the king. But Odin did send more food, and a message: if Loki would not eat of his own accord, he would be… compelled… to take nourishment.

The tightness of the guard’s mouth as he relayed that word, ‘compelled’, caused Loki to break out into a cold sweat, bringing more than nausea rising into his throat. A reaction he would have explained to Odin, possibly even gladly, if the king had ever once bothered to ask why he had ‘betrayed’ the crown and attacked Earth.

But Odin had never cared for his explanations, so it was folly for Loki to think he’d begin now.

That was when he first dreamed up the fanciful notion of addling Odin’s mind and dropped him off at some eldercare facility on Earth. A good one, of course; Loki didn’t want it said that he’d actually murdered the king. The small angry boy who still resided inside him somewhere retained a ferocious love of Odin, and Loki instinctively shied away from anything that would upset that boy further.

He never thought he’d actually get the chance, of course. Loki fully expected to die in his gold-plated cage. All he wanted was the taste of the cruel, delicious irony of sending Odin to a place where he would be treated like a child, and scolded for making a mess of his dinner.

A Memory Of The Smell of Smoke, Ch 2.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Everyone liked to pretend that Campbell had been born bad. That their fear and hatred were logical, rational, justified, because Campbell was a monster incapable of making the choice between good and evil. Because he couldn't feel the way they did. Well, fuck that. He was gonna prove them wrong. At least, that had been the plan.

Rating: Mature.

Tags:

Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Emotional Baggage, Mental Health Issues, Child Abuse, Substance Abuse, Animal Death, Complicated Relationships, Pre-Slash, Denial of Feelings, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Implied Rape, Campbell has mild ASPD and is self aware enough to try and be better, the non-con is NOT Campbell, didn't add an official warning because it is the aftermath only, yes it is the party becca mentioned and there will be a warning in the notes of that chapter, Campbell/Harry, Campbell/Elle.

Word Count: 3383 (chapter 2/5).

CH 1 || CH 3 || CH 4 || CH 5 || AO3

It was an hour long drive to the psychiatrist. The office smelled like iodine. The walls were white, the counters were white, the floor was white. The only person in the waiting room besides Campbell and his parents was the lady at the desk, a younger woman with stringy pale hair and a mean look. Campbell gave her a bright, cheerful smile. The lady scowled in return, but it didn't matter. It was all just a game.

Doctor Cotton looked like his name. Old, white, with thin and poofy white hair coming out his head and ears. He had a red nose and gravelly voice, and Campbell was immediately disinterested in anything he had to say. The doctor asked him questions, made him take quizzes that asked things like "I feel anger that I can't control" and "I think about hurting myself". Campbell answered honestly, just in case maybe the doctor did actually know what he was doing. After two hours of testing, the doctor got up and took Campbell's parents into another room; when they came back, his parents were thin lipped and stiff. They didn't say anything to Campbell, just gathered him up and took him back home. He never saw Doctor Cotton again. Campbell knew one thing from the visit, at least. They never told him what the doctor has said, or what was wrong, but Campbell figured it must have been bad. His parents were afraid of him, just like everyone else. They looked at him different. Treated him differently. They yelled at him less, grabbed him less. That would have been fine, except they had this look in their eyes, this worried look as if he'd explode at any moment and hurt them. Campbell had no desire to hurt his family. Sure, sometimes he hit walls or threw things or would steal some money for extra snacks at school, and he knew what he did to Sam's bird was cruel, but he didn't mean any harm; it was the only thing that made them pay attention. He hadn't meant to make them hate him. He knew he should have been more upset than he was, but all he felt was an odd numbness. It wasn't sad. It's just how life was, and in a way, that's how it had always been in some way or another. He couldn't really remember a time when his family had actually loved him all on his own. It was easy not to care, so he let himself not care. He just did what he wanted to do, said what he wanted to say, and whatever happened was just what happened. His parents kept him hidden away from neighbors, extended family, friends. They laughed off his outbursts, with tight smiles and cold eyes. Sam became a stranger. He focused on his school work-- it was the surest way of getting the hell out of West Ham-- even though his grades slipped when he refused to do public speaking and fucked off during group projects. It wasn't that he hated school. He liked it, but he hated people. That was the part of him that Campbell wasn't sure he enjoyed. The older he got, the worse it felt. Birthdays, family gatherings, holidays. None of it had any real meaning, and he couldn't feel anything. He sneaked a switchblade into the house and began cutting his upper thighs when he was twelve, trying to see if maybe it would do something. Anything. It gave him a rush of endorphins, and for a while, that was enough. He ignored the quiet thoughts that told him he was worthless, a parasite, and should die. All teenagers had that, he thought. It still made it hard to sleep at night, sometimes, but there was no point in sharing. Eventually, it'd go away. It never went away. Not really. It wasn't all bad, being how he was. He was able to charm his way out of trouble with teachers, and fear was a rare and fleeting feeling. Campbell was still glad to see Cassandra in school, enjoyed seeing videos of cute kittens on YouTube, and felt some somber emotion when bad shit happened on the news. He was still willing to hold the classroom door open for a student who was in a wheelchair, and subjects like science, government, and history came easily to him. He liked facts, figures, formulas. He liked knowing how and why things-- and people-- ticked. It was a trait he shared in common with Cassandra, and at least it gave him one person to bond with. He still wasn't allowed to visit, not when her parents were home. Campbell was able to see Cassandra at school; they had ended up in the same 7th grade class. She was distant, but she still sat with him, studied with him, and invited him to eat lunch with her. She still treated him like a person. "My thirteenth birthday party is next week," she said one day. "Gonna come over?" "I've been banned from your home, remember?" Cassandra smiled. "My parents told me I could invite whoever I wanted, and we both know that means like... three people who are going to show up. C'mon. There'll be cake. If they try and say no, I'll play the guilt card." Campbell glanced at the scar on his cousin's chest. Years back, after he stopped being able to see her at home, she'd gotten surgery to fix some heart condition she'd been born with. Her parents treated her like a delicate doll still, and Campbell had heard stories from Cassandra and Allie both about Cassandra's ability to exploit that for personal gain. So Campbell agreed to go, and he had no idea how Cassandra managed it, but he found himself walking into the first birthday party he'd experienced in years. His own were spent alone, and Sam didn't want him around for his. It was mostly just family, and a few kids he didn't know. Gordie, Becca, Kelly, and then some boy named Harry. Out of everyone, Harry was the one to catch Campbell's attention; he spent a good portion of the party watching the boy closely. Harry seemed to be everything that Campbell wasn't. Vivid, talkative, well liked, popular. He had a bright smile and mischievous dark eyes, and when he saw Campbell staring at him, he strolled right on up as if they were old friends. "Hey," he greeted. "I'm Harry. You Cassandra's cousin, Campbell, right? Having fun?" Narrowing his eyes, Campbell clutched his soda cup a little closer. No one was ever that friendly to him, not unless they wanted something. "If someone dared you to come over, I don't--" "Do people really do that? I just thought you looked lonely." Lonely. Was he lonely? Campbell blinked. It was true enough that he never really felt like he belonged. It was an uncomfortable sensation, but he never really thought about what it meant. Crossing his arms, he shrugged. "What, you wanna hold hands and sing the Friendship Song or something?" Harry laughed. It was a beautiful sound. "Not necessary. I thought maybe we could hang out some time." "Might be bad for your reputation. I'm sure you've heard some things about me." "I have, but it doesn't matter to me. I'd rather get to know someone on my own." And that was that. It took a while for Campbell to warm up to Harry; it took time and effort for Campbell to feel affection for anyone, and his trust was hard won, but Harry had a certain way about him that Campbell found appealing. He was sweet and quick to smile, and far more sensitive than anyone would expect. Their weaknesses balanced one another well. While Harry was outgoing and fearless around people, he was often nervous to take other kinds of risks, like sneaking a sip of his parent's wine while they were out. Campbell loved the risk and excitement it brought, but shied away from social interaction. Luckily, Harry seemed drawn to Campbell's fiery temper and penchant for wild stunts, and people seemed to stare and gossip about Campbell less when Harry was around. Win-win. But Harry's friendship changed little. He lied, cheated, stole, and terrorized other students if it got him his way. Harry would sigh, but often what benefited Campbell ended up benefiting Harry, so his friend didn't complain. Campbell began drinking, using charm and manipulation to get Harry to befriend kids with alcoholic parents and druggie siblings. Harry was too straight-laced to take that stuff himself, but he didn't stop Campbell from buying and selling it; he was making money, too. It became easy to profit off beer, weed, even prescription medication. If anyone noticed, no one said anything. Same for when Campbell began taking valium. A girl in his class, Lexie, had an addict mother who never could keep track of how many pills she had. The booze and pills sometimes helped him feel... different. More relaxed, a little happier. It at least helped him deal with the tense, wrong-in-his-skin sensation that he got when he thought too much about what was wrong with him. He tried to be careful, but one day his parents were both gone at the office, and Campbell took too much. Dizzy, he called Cassandra. Cassandra came over. How she got there, got inside the house, and found her way to him, he didn't know. But she held his head in her lap while the world spun. "Should I call someone?" "No. It's okay. It's just..." Campbell groaned as his stomach heaved. "Just a cold." "I know you've been taking pills. I should call someone." But she didn't move, and Campbell just lay there shivering. At some point, Sam came home. Campbell could barely see, but he could tell Sam was signing to Cassandra, and Cassandra was signing back. Sam stared at him, then frowned and headed towards his own room. "I didn't know you knew sign language," Campbell mumbled. "When did you learn? Casandra shrugged. "A while back. Allie, too. I'm pretty sure you're the only one in our family behind on it." There was a teasing note in her voice. He felt a stab of frustration, but it was taken over fast by nausea. Campbell managed to crawl from Cassandra's lap to his bathroom, where he promptly threw up. Between bouts of vomiting, he thought over Cassandra's words. His parents and Sam were always signing, and Campbell only understood about half of the conversation, if their parents even bothered speaking out loud. Sometimes he would notice Sam glancing at him, and it made him wonder what they were saying. "Could you teach me?" Campbell asked her once he felt better. "How to sign?" "Why?" "I wanna know what they're saying." "That's it? You want to eavesdrop?" "What does it matter?" Cassandra turned to him and pinned him down with that intense, strange look of hers. She didn't say anything; she just helped him clean his face, tucked him into bed, and did her homework on the floor next to the bed. Campbell closed his eyes. Cassandra didn't have to say a word for him to know what she was thinking. He was going to be a freshman soon. A few more years would make or break his effort to get out of West Ham. Once he did... would he ever see his family again? His parents, Campbell didn't care. But Sam? He didn't know what to do about Sam. Every time he thought about the kid, he felt so angry. "I'll teach you," Cassandra said suddenly. "But I hope it helps you do more than just listening in to their conversations." Campbell rolled his eyes, but it wasn't like he wasn't already thinking about it. Whatever. He fell asleep as his stomach settled down. When he woke up in the night, she was gone. No one ever said anything about it, so Cassandra must have covered for him. He resolved to cut back on the drugs, and turned his attention towards becoming fluent in sign language. It was challenging, but he enjoyed that element to it. Cassandra taught him during lunch and break, without bringing up his family again; she'd said what she wanted to say, and the rest was in his hands. Literally. Logically, he knew that the anger he felt wasn't Sam's fault. He was resentful of Sam because he got everything Campbell ever wanted. Friends, loving parents, some sort of happiness. Campbell hated to admit he was jealous, but it was true. It didn't mean he could turn off that resentment, but it kept him from doing anything to Sam at least. He got into plenty of fistfights with other teenagers around town, but he never laid a hand on Sam. What would be the point? The benefit? Campbell didn't do shit just to do shit. Everything he did was calculated, risks versus rewards, pros and cons. There were no rewards in hurting Sam. Were there rewards in trying to mend the bridge between them? He didn't know. but learning how to actually talk to Sam more easily would be a good way to test those waters. Campbell figured out what he wanted to say, and showed it to Cassandra; it took forver to get it and possible answers down, but he finally felt prepared. If it didn't work, well, at least he'd tried. Campbell waited until their parents were out again, and he and Sam were home alone. Ever since Sam had turned eleven, their parents had magically decided it was safe to leave them under the same roof together; it was a weird turn, considering mommy and daddy dearest seemed to think Campbell was Satan incarnate, but apparently it was some emergency at work that couldn't wait. In any case, it gave Campbell a small window to talk to Sam without their parents hovering nearby. He tossed a pair of rolled up socks at Sam to get his attention. Sam snapped his head up to stare at Campbell, and Campbell signed to him. "Can I come in?" "Yes," Sam signed back. He paused as Campbell walked closer, a flicker of fear in his eyes. "Is something wrong?" "No, I just wanted to talk." Sam frowned. "When did you learn to sign?" "Cassandra taught me." "Why?" Sitting on the edge of Sam's bed, Campbell thought for a moment over what he wanted to say. "I'm sorry about Oliver." It wasn't that he really felt guilty, but he knew he'd done wrong and never tried to make it right, and he needed to change that if he wanted to get anywhere with Sam. "I'm sorry I hurt you." "You don't mean that." "I do." "You killed him to hurt me." Campbell stopped. Was that true? It had been years, but he could remember that moment. He hadn't wanted to hurt Sam. He'd wanted the attention of their parents, and he knew the best way to do that was to hurt Sam. Still, it hadn't been about Sam at all. "Who said that?" "Mom and dad said so." "I put him outside, but I didn't kill him. They didn't believe me." "What do you want?" Sam asked. The hand motions were short, terse. He was upset. "Why are you apologizing?" "We don't like each other, but I wanted to try and be civil." "Like... friends?" "No. Like brothers." Chewing on his bottom lip, Sam looked away and fiddled with his homework papers. After a few minutes, he nodded. "We can try." And for a while, it almost seemed like they were going to make it. They'd sneak out for pizza or for milkshakes and fries when their parents were gone, or meet with Cassandra and Allie at the arcade. Sam taught Campbell more sign language, and Campbell helped Sam with his homework. It wasn't exactly normal. They didn't spend a lot of time together; they both still had their own friends and hobbies, and Sam was still nervous around him. Campbell felt protective of Sam, but his resentment never fully faded, and Campbell wasn't sure that affection was the same as love. But it was an improvement, nonetheless. Campbell managed to keep the rest of his life away from Sam, for the most part. Harry's popularity had taken an odd turn as he'd slipped into the world of smoking weed. Campbell supplied the goods, and Harry doled them out among the football team. Campbell could see how it was heading, even at fifteen. The only people who actually liked Harry were the ones who needed him, and so Harry needed Campbell. Campbell enjoyed manipulating the strings between the two of them. Campbell got a share of the money, and a friend who damn near licked his boots in a desperate attempt to maintain his social standing. Pathetic, but cute. And Sam didn't need to know that that was how Campbell managed to fund their bro time, or the gifts that Campbell got Sam to try and barter for his trust. Sam was his brother. They were getting closer, and maybe by the time they were both a little older, Sam would understand more. Campbell knew Sam wanted them to be close, and though Campbell still cared for Harry, he could admit that it was nice to finally feel like he had his actual brother back. Especially considering Sam was about to start high school, and who knew what kind of bullshit Sam would hear from all the stuck up upperclassmen. They were out at the local all-day-breakfast joint, talking about what school supplies they both needed and which of Sam's friends were in which classes. Sam had been talking about one girl, Becca, for weeks; they had gotten math together. Campbell chuckled at Sam's excitement, flicking the bacon from his breakfast over to Sam's plate in exchange for Sam's english muffin. Five years since Oliver's gruesome demise, and Campbell still couldn't really stomach meat. "What, is she like your crush or something?" he teased. "This Becca chick?" Sam froze. Slowly, Sam signed a denial. "She's just a friend." Campbell noticed the emotion there on his brother's expression. Not fear, so much as just uncertainty. He made a calculated guess. "Yeah? Are there any girls you do like?" "No," Sam replied. He looked down at his hands. After a moment, he glanced back up and signed, quickly. "I'm gay." Bingo. Campbell sipped his orange juice, thinking. It's not like West Ham was super progressive, but it wasn't exactly a deep red area, either. Their parents, to his knowledge, had never talked to them about sex let alone different kinds of sexualities. Most of what Campbell knew was from watching porn over Harry's shoulder and seeing all the different categories and titles. Sometimes, Harry would tap on one of the gay ones, laughing about it while watching Campbell out of the corner of his eye. Waiting for a reaction. Campbell would just take a drag of weed, shrug, and pretend the air between them hadn't gotten thicker. Campbell nodded. "Have you told anyone else?" "No. But I want to." "Well, if anyone gives you shit, I'll beat them up for you." Sam gave him a tentative smile. "Thanks." And so Sam came out just after the start of high school. Campbell did have to beat up one neanderthal creep, Brandon. He made some snide comment on the way home from school, and Campbell pounded the guy's face into the pavement while a bunch of the football players watched silently from the sidelines. Campbell gave Brandon one last kick in the ribs before he turned to leave. One of the football players, Grizz, was staring a bit longer than the others. "What?" Campbell spat. "You next?" Grizz shook his head. "Nope, no thanks. Respect." No one bothered Sam again. Not anywhere Campbell could see or hear, at least. That, at least, was one thing that didn't change; no matter how they felt towards each other, the only one who was allowed to fuck with Sam was Campbell, and vise versa. They were still brothers, and Campbell had decided that he would protect Sam even if things went to hell again. It was an unspoken rule that would become important a lot sooner than expected.

Thank you so much for being one of like 3 people on the internet who writes docs with Ruben in them!!! Could you write fluff with Ruben making breakfast?

[This isn’t fluff! I apologise! It was supposed to be but it turned into Ruben in a bittersweet but not unhappy introspection about four months into his recovery, having a nourishing breakfast with a side of slow but steady emotional healing. So, y’know, classic thisstableground content. Warning for PTSD things, implied past suicidal thoughts, and also for some kinda disordered eating talk.]

Also on AO3!

***

Ruben had always been under the impression that near death experiences were supposed to come with new appreciation of the life you almost lost. He had a whole run of them and only came away with a blurred recollection of what now feels like someone else’s rescue: he doesn’t remember having to be sedated for the plane back, or arriving at a Philadelphia hospital that thankfully wasn’t Independence Memorial. He doesn’t remember seeing his family again for the first time in months. The earliest thing he can recall from his return is that Ma was the one who was there to stop him when he tried to tear out his own IV and make a break for it.

“The doctor said you have to stay here for just a little while, sweetheart,” she’d explained, as he begged her to let him leave. “You’ve lost too much weight, and you have a fever. They want to make sure you’re going to be okay before you come back home.”

He remembers thinking, I’m never going to be okay. But they treated him for dehydration, fed him gritty-textured nutrition shakes and hospital food he had no appetite for till he started to put on weight again, put him on antibiotics for the infection from poorly-cared for wounds that had hit him with the fever, and after a few weeks they let him go back to live with his ma.

Near death hasn’t gifted him with a new lease on life so far. At best he’s been having life pushed on him while he passively lets it happen. When he wakes up hours before everyone else, he lies there with the day a vast, black expanse of vacuum and inside himself the same expanse, and wants to go back to sleep forever. Ma is the one who makes him get up, knocks on his locked door in the morning and tells him that she’s made breakfast so he needs to come downstairs and eat before she leaves. She does’t believe him when he says he eats while she’s at work, which is fair. He didn’t at first. Hunger has just been the background noise of consciousness for a long enough time he forgot what it meant.

From those early days he remembers her trying to grasp his thin wrist gently in one hand, and how she looked when he shied away from her touch, and her voice tearfully saying, “look at yourself, cariño, there’s almost nothing left of you”.  He remembers thinking, good. If there’s nothing left of him then there’s nothing anyone can take from him. If he’s nothing but hollow no matter what, then what could hungry even mean any more?

But he’d eat, only because it was easier than lying to Ma about it, and because it was easier than making her cry again. And life pushed on him pushes him to live: he goes to therapy. He exists. He wakes up in the morning, every morning, even though there’s nothing to wake up to when the trial in April is over, the now what of May and June.

In July he wakes up, and thinks about lying here all day, and thinks about the gnawing feeling of unfilled space echoing around his body, and thinks, I want arroz con leche.

What? Jesus. When was the last time he wanted anything?

Breakfast sounds…good, though. Good enough that it seems too long to wait for Ma to get up in an hour. Even though he’s got nothing but time it’s somehow a lot harder to let the minutes slip by when there’s actually something he could do about what he wants, so after fidgeting around restlessly for a while he gives into it and unlocks his door. Crouches at the top of the stairs to peek through the railings into the living room below, like he used to in their first house in Philadelphia when he was eavesdropping on Ma having whispered disagreements with his father about Ruben when they thought that he was sleeping.

Nobody in the living room, or in the dining room when he tiptoes down there. He leans around the doorway of the kitchen, nobody in there. Ground floor cleared for safety he can relax some, putting the rice and cinnamon sticks on to boil and opening a can of condensed milk to add later. As he’s taking a bowl out of the cupboard, he realises that when he woke up feeling empty his first thought was that’s probably because I’m hungry not that’s because I wish I was dead. He drops the bowl on the counter in shock: it clatters loudly but doesn’t break.

“Shit!” he curses, gripping the edge of the bowl tightly and trying not to let the sound fling him into fight-or-flight, and then repeats “shit,” when he hears the sound of a door opening on the floor above and then footsteps down the stairs. Ma’s room is above the kitchen. She must have heard him.

“It’s only me, Ma,” he calls softly.

“Rubén?” She comes to the kitchen. “¿Estás bien?”

“Sí, just dropped a bowl.”

“You’re up very early,” she says. Ruben’s pretty sure she means, you’re up at all?

“I’m making arroz con leche. You can go back to bed, it’s okay.”

“Do you need any help?”

“I got it.” Don’t be irritated. It’s a reasonable question. Still, he’s glad that she leaves the room instead of watching him, though he pauses to hear her footsteps and can tell she hasn’t gone back upstairs. She’s probably listening out for him from the living room. Don’t be irritated at that, either.

The rice simmers gently releasing cinnamon-scented steam and Ruben dips a finger into the can of condensed milk to taste it while he waits. Arroz con leche reminds him of sick days off school: insisting he needed to go in to stay on top of his work, but secretly relieved when Ma refused because it meant being able to stay in the quiet, just him and the one person he could always rely on, the way he’d always preferred things to be. She’d cook the rice while he went upstairs to bring his quilt and a pillow down to the sofa and then when he was tucked in comfortably she’d bring him a bowlful, that comforting mixture of warm and spiced and sweet but still bland enough to be easy to eat when he had no appetite. He’d feed spoonfuls from his own bowl to Paola and Mercedes when they were babies too, his way of letting them know sick days used to be for just me and Mamá, but it’s okay that you’re here now too.

When it’s ready he dishes out two bowls, puts raisins on Ma’s but not his own. Makes two coffees, both black with cinnamon, and takes one bowl and one mug on a tray into the living room. Ma is sitting on the sofa in her bathrobe, absent-mindedly pencilling answers into the newspaper crossword.

“Desayuno,” he says, putting the tray down on the coffee table.

“Oh, gracias,” she says, putting a hand over her heart. “What a nice surprise.”

It shouldn’t be a surprise for him to do something so simple as this for her, he thinks. He stands for a minute watching as she sets her newspaper down and picks up the tray. When he was growing up she always used to watch the news in the morning but they don’t do that any more after half the local news was him for so long. Ruben might be old news now but they still don’t watch it: there’s enough sadness in their lives without having to learn the sadness of the rest of the world too. What does she do to fill the time before work instead? Does she do the crossword every day? Does she sit in the stillness of the early hours listening out for him and the girls, trying to anticipate what kind of morning they might have? Psyching herself up to pull him out of his room to come eat, dreading how difficult he’ll make it for her today, and all while she’s got her actual job to go to afterwards. Does she think about him staying home from school when he was little too, and wonder like he does if he’ll be here in a second childhood forever, long after the girls grow up, just Ruben and her and long, quiet, empty days?

She didn’t sign up for this. She must think it, but she never says it to his face, never lets it show. He leans in to give her a tentative kiss on the cheek, and says, “I love you, Mamá.” It comes out a little pitiful.

“I love you too, cariño,” she says, patting his wrist. “Don’t forget to eat your own breakfast, now.”

In the kitchen, he covers the rest of the rice over so that the girls can have it when they wake up, and contemplates going to eat next to Ma on the couch or maybe the dining room, but instead end up sitting on the kitchen counter by the window because that’s the best spot at this time of day. The sun’s just coming up, spilling in clear and luminant across the windowsill. He’s always said Ma has a perfect spot to grow herbs there, but she’s never got round to doing it. Maybe he’ll do it for her one day, when he’s more certain of his ability to take care of something consistently. Maybe one day he’ll even have a place of his own again, a nice bright little kitchen full of herbs, drinking coffee and—no, that’s too much to think about for now. For now, he’s having breakfast on the counter in the growing sunlight by the window in his mother’s kitchen, and that has to be enough. Alive enough to remember that he can do nice things for other people, alive enough to remind his family that he loves them. He remembered how to feel that, if nothing else. He remembered how to make arroz con leche like Ma used to and that cinnamon and sweet and warm are all things that he can still feel good about. He isn’t ready to be happy that he’s alive yet. But at this particular moment, he’s glad he isn’t dead. That will have to be enough.