#How dare I traumatise you with my own upbringing

[goldemas1244]

Kaloshta (Father) - A Mobile Legends Fanfic

Necessary content warnings:

Contains mentions and themes of:

(Blood, injury, death, gore, passing out, Asian parenting / tough love (which may include themes similar to but may or may not be: physical abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, degradation, abandonment, trauma, yelling, not knowing whether the question is literal or rhetorical, hurting for the sake of love and survivability, etc.), depression, graphic depictions of inner monologues, loss of self-worth, freezing to death, bleeding to death, character death in general, resurrection, and anything you'd expect from a 50/50 stereotypical Asian household)

Bonus note: NOT ALL OF OUR FAMILIES TREAT OUR KIDS THIS WAY. MINE DOES THOUGH. My dad has yet to rip out my antennae but that's because I don't have any-. He doesn't like my sitting position and my incompetence though.

Necessary writer's note:

{FINALLY we've gotten the tags out of the way.

So to clarify this was made on a whim. I obviously do not condone any of the content in this and urge you to raise your offspring like you mean it. This is but a reflection of the (50/50 stereotypical) Asian household. Not all of us treat our kids this way. Not all of us believe that tough love is required for better young. But hey, it's culture.

But it's mostly a reflection of my life so far. Hey, you make a few mistakes and suddenly you're very numb in the cheek and probably concussed. And you get very weird kinks. Most of the stuff in this is just stuff I've actually experienced. And of course I turn it into gut-wrenching angst.

Note: I am fine. I am alright. I am not hurt (yet). My father DOES scare me still but I blame it on the telly. He watches too much Netflix. He humours me on my monster/alienfucking expeditions. He shows me Transformers clips because he knows I find robot aliens hot as fuck.

Note 2: Understandably, this is a very sensitive topic to write about. Forgive me if you feel offended or uncomfortable reading this. Just know that I do not write for content, rather I write to satiate my inner desire to write. And sometimes that means refractions.

Having said that, enjoy the read!}

%%%

Blood. Short for haemolymph actually. In a blizzard and the icy snow.

He had just barely made it out alive. He had run away, clinging onto the last few breaths he had. So far he could hope nothing was chasing him. If there was, it would catch him soon.

His claws plunged through deep snow and he felt himself falling. Yet he stood back up, and reached out to thin air, desperately trying to pull himself further away. Further away from where, he couldn't say. All that remained of his thoughts had slipped away. Only instinct remained.

And it told him to keep going.

Footfalls scarred through the blizzard as the burning ache in his body began to throb. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't remember how to. All he could do was escape.

Only but a few minutes ago, he was in his element. A battle was raging, his nightmaric spawns were decimating, and his aim was steady. Before him were two lovers, and they were both primed to strike.

He had taken them down, but not with minor losses.

Soon there was nothing left on the battlefield save the husks of two colliding armies. Brave souls giving up their lives for a cause. One to protect, one to survive.

And the three of them were still left. Zhask, Aurora, and Tobias.

Tobias was on his knees. Zhask had done enough to him. His last breaths were well-spent, but not to Zhask. No, to Aurora.

He'd told her they'd attack together. He burst through whatever remained of the swarm Zhask could summon. He made sure Aurora could reach the source-

And the pain....

The sharp shooting pain coursed through his chest into his brain. It felt as if all his blood had been frozen, yet it drained from him in thick amounts, warmer than ever.

He took a few steps back. Aurora had pierced him in a critical spot with her own arm, frozen into the shape of a sword. It had severed itself from her body, leaving a gaping wound where it once was and a bloodied trail leading back to its socket. Jagged spikes of ice ripped through the soft flesh inside of him, tearing him apart from within.

It was cold, far too cold.

As the blizzard swooped all around them, he took one last glance at them. Tobias was dead. Aurora was in agony, but still alive. And Zhask himself was losing his energy all too fast. His swarm was rapidly dying out and the weather was against him.

So he went against the weather.

Zhask ran away. As he always did. As he never should have done.

And now here he was, miles away from any civilization, acres away from salvation, and half buried in snow and ice.

His legs shook. The pain was unbearable.

He reached for the frozen sword and arm of Aurora. No blood leaked from the severed limb now, rather it had become one with the ice. He grasped it tightly with his free hand, and with a hiss, pulled it sharply and threw it aside to be consumed by the storm.

Rookie mistake.

If it was unbearable then, then it was deathly now. Haemolymph flowed out in bursts from the open gash, half-frozen. The jagged edges of the sword had sliced through tender muscle tissue on its way out, more than it initially had prior. His frozen claws clutched at the wound and he chittered in utter agony, doubling over as they instinctively curled around it as one does to their chest during a heart attack.

He couldn't let go. Despite all his conscious thoughts and efforts he just couldn't let go. All his muscles were telling him to stop the bleeding no matter how.

But no matter how hard his instincts betrayed him, he couldn't cover the thick shell good enough. His magic was useless. He was weak and so was it. Domorey was exhausted herself. There was no way to heal.

He couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop the numbing pain. He couldn't stop the thick blood pouring out in waves. He couldn't stop the racing thoughts in his mind.

He couldn't.

He just couldn't.

His muscles tensed and he fell to his knees. Domorey fell with as he used her to brace himself. His eyes watered dryly as the pain only doubled from the momentum. He wanted to vomit, but all that came out was more blood.

The blizzard stung him where he hadn't been stung before and he lowered his head in defeat. So this is how Zhask dies for the upteenth time. Alone, in a temperature he never could fathom, with a wound he couldn't close. With no magic, buried in the cold embrace of despair.

He wasn't ready to accept that. Not his soul. Not with what's coming for him. But his body begged to differ.

"Sh-... Shaloshta...."

With one last attempt to stand and walk onwards, Zhask fell back onto the cold hard snow. His ears rang. His vision began to blur, his hands were losing their grip. He couldn't breathe anymore. He couldn't even muster enough energy to keep his heart pumping. And within a moment, all was black.

%%%

He awoke to white noise and darkness. He could see himself clearly however, clean yet scarred fresh. Domorey was gone. Balling his hands into fists he began to push himself up.

There was still some pain but it was numbed by some otherworldly force. He brought his hand to where the stab wound was and found out that it had somewhat healed.

Here in the void. Again.

"Disappointing!"

His eyes widened and his head jerked up violently. He'd know that voice from anywhere.

"Ka... Kaloshta?" he silently whimpered, yet much to his dismay he'd forgotten how acute his father's hearing was compared to his.

Heavy steps sounded themselves and Zhask desperately tried to crawl backwards, inching away, retreating as best as he could. But to no avail. His back hit an invisible wall violently and his antennae raised themselves up to protest.

"I told you not to use those with me."

Zhask screamed as he felt all four of them being pushed violently upwards against the wall. It felt as if they were going to break off from him at any moment, much so with the force of gravity pulling his body downwards. He struggled against the chokehold, gasping, desperate to escape the grasp but it raised him up higher, earning him a grinding noise as they were pushed harder against the wall like nails on a chalkboard.

It wasn't long before his eyes could finally focus on his own flesh and blood, yet only stared forwards as the familiar figure came into view.

"Zhask!"

A green husk hunched over him, eyes glowing brightly in the faux blackness of their surroundings. They burned into the air like sulphur. A ferocity bloomed in them like none other.

"You dare disobey your Kaloshta?"

A large clawed hand, larger than Zhask's own face, cupped his chin and forced his head violently upwards. Zhask could see his antennae clearly now, held up by his father's other hand. The horns on his head scraped against the wall. One of them even broke off at the tip.

To a vertebrate, it would've snapped their neck. But for Zhask, this was a familiar feeling.

It felt like home, it felt like family, it felt... painful.

"Your antennae show off too much emotion," his father growled. "It's one of the things I hate about you." He lifted his claws off of his son's chin and grabbed his shoulder. "It shows how afraid you are."

Held in place by some mental force, Zhask couldn't move his head nor his arms and legs which dangled like a stringless puppet. All he could do was freeze himself. Take it all in like how he used to. Not that he was used to it as much as the occasional slap, but he was used to it. Every time he'd failed practice he'd get himself hurt. His fault of course. As always.

He missed his father. He loved him, he genuinely did. But this? He didn't miss this. Not for his entire life.

"Please, Kaloshta I'm sorry!" he begged as his voice cracked with pain and his body curled up into itself despite the... gravity of the situation. "I'm sorry! I won't use them ever again just please Kaloshta let me go!"

"You disgust me. How dare you talk back to me!" With one harsh pull, his father tore shell from membrane, muscle from vessel. Zhask's eyes widened and he could only gasp as he was thrown to the ground now with nothing on his back.

He felt so ashamed of himself, didn't he? Oh yes, the price for disobedience and stupidity. You lose what you love. And what Zhask loved was his antennae. It made him comfortable, it helped him regulate his body temperature, it helped him smell, it helped him sense, it helped him to express his emotions, and it helped out with so many more things. Not to mention his father too. Oh, but now-

Now they're gone. Replaced only by a stuffy feeling and his haemolymph flowing out of his back. At least he couldn't smell the blood now.

"Always wanted to do that," mumbled his father as Zhask desperately tried to stifle his tears and stand up again. "But your mother, she coddled you. I'd always believed she was too soft, but I couldn't do a thing about it." His steps began again, and Zhask could hear a clinking sound as those vital parts of his body were oh so carelessly thrown away.

His father loves him. He really does. Zhask remembers how he used to take him outside and play with him when he was younger. How he'd begrudgingly read him bedtime stories. How he'd rarely but truly said sorry, how he'd always hugged him, how he'd never once forgotten how much he loved his son.

But when DID that all change, really? When did this start happening to Zhask, Prince of the Kastiyans? When did his father become a monster? What happened? Was it because the prince grew up? Was it because he was immature? Because he was older, that he didn't deserve as much love as he used to?

He remembered when his toys were broken all because he wanted to play with them while another foreign prince wanted to intervene and he didn't want to share because he knew they'd ruin it. He remembered getting whipped because he was weak in his test scores. He remembered the sorries his father gave, he remembered the silence. The silence meant he wouldn't forgive him. And then, over tea, they'd get back together because he was the only son.

Hugs became fewer and farther between through the years, and so did the kisses. But despite his father's complaining Zhask knew he secretly enjoyed it. Annoying his father was a favourite pastime of his whenever he was available and was in a pleasurable mood.

He knows his father was trying his best. His best to protect Zhask, his best to ensure he survived throughout the conquests, his best to ensure he managed to live on to rule Kastiya. His slaps were a lesson to learn, his whips a delicate cruelty, all so he would act better in future. Even if they scarred him. Even if they gave him permanent damage.

But sometimes, as implied, his best hurt and he was a monster.

His mother was softer but she could be as harsh as he was. Not that it mattered to Zhask, she was always busy so it made sense if she never came to be well-moody. Yet she feared her husband for the obvious reason as well.

Zhask could never stifle his tears, even from youth. Usually when this happened he'd walk off to his room, pretending to yawn and rub his eyes as if he was tired. Then he'd go into the shower or wrap himself up in his bed. He never locked his door either because his father would break it down so his butler was always there to check on him. Not that he'd ever wanted him to. And if he did Prince Zhask would have to put on a genuine emotional mask in fear that his butler would slip the metaphorical beans.

But of course in these events there was no room to pace to.

The footsteps stopped. Silenced. And so was Zhask. Though one out of anger, and the other out of terror. Zhask desperately tried to hide his tears away but the pain was intense and he just couldn't help it.

Like with the bleeding....

"Your Shaloshta isn't here," his father quipped and Zhask could hear his armoured plates creaking with age as he knelt. "Neither is your Heria. So I'll tell you this right here."

"Look at me."

Zhask turned to face him. Proportionally, so did his father's backhand and he fell back on his elbows.

"You are the reason Kastiya is lost!"

There it was. The guilt-tripping.

"Look at me!" Zhask hesitated, and had his horns pulled up so he could face his father. "Because of your recklessness, The Astrowardens have DESTROYED Kastiya! One of them is hunting you down, and here you are, dead as a star because of your own foolish mistakes! What have I raised you for?!"

Zhask only could stare. Was it a rhetorical question? But it sounded so genuine he should-

"ANSWER ME."

Genuine it is then.

"You... you raised me to lead Kastiya," Zhask began, stutteringly repeating the words his father used to swear. "You raised me so I could protect Kastiya, to keep its glory. You raised me so Kastiya could prosper. So that we could rule supreme. You raised me so... I'd have a home?"

"TALKING BACK TO YOUR ELDERS," he yelled out, despite having asked the question initially. "You are a disappointment. You have disappointed me, you have disappointed Kastiya, you have disappointed your subjects. As if there are any because they're all dead! And I should know because that's your doing too!"

He released his grip on Zhask. Zhask could only stare into space, fixed in the position. He didn't even turn to look at his father, now retreating back into the darkness.

"You are the reason I died, Zhask. Remember that. You are nothing. A pig-child. Wasted filth."

Footsteps receding.

"You are not my son."

Pain slowly enveloped Zhask's body once more. Not the pain of what had happened to him, but the pain of coming back.

Good. He never wanted to stay anyway.

%%%

"Ow...."

Zhask awakens once more, this time back in the snow. He instantly shoots up, but winces at the pain. His chest is still bloodied and he still has scars, but they seems to have healed slightly. The short death-rest has given Domorey enough mana to regenerate himself, thankfully.

He hears a little chirp infront of him. Before him is his passive spawn, the backup guard for his body. It moves towards him, albeit a little shakily from the cold. It nuzzles him and Zhask can feel its warm laser heating up.

He looks around him. Behind Domorey, there is a calm, serene white. The blizzard has stopped. He looks back and sees that his antennae are still there. They're only frozen from the exposure. He sighs in thankfulness.

The little spawn hops onto Zhask's arm, latching onto it. It camouflages itself on his glove. He pets its little head and grabs Domorey.

He is capable of standing on his own two feet. And so he does, leaning onto Domorey for balance. He tests his footing on the icy floor beneath him and realises it's created a nice little step-path. His feet don't sink in, rather the snow has solidified enough to stand on.

Slowly but surely, Zhask begins to walk forwards, limping through the snow. He remembers his past, he acknowledges the present, and he looks out for the future.

But his heart sinks.

He will never forget what his Kaloshta had done to him. He's still shaken by that death-dream he had, the only flaw to his immortality. He's depressed but he brushes it off.

They love each other, don't they? This is what your parents do to help you grow stronger, right? He deserves it for his failure, doesn't he?

Zhask's first death was to save him and his revival was met with a slight scolding and a warm hug. The rest were merely trivial, but he got scolded more and more often as time went on and the hugs became less and less often. In the end, it's all just a forgettable memory when he wakes up. This wasn't even the worst he's had. The worst was that one time he drank himself to death over a lost love. He got a real beating for that.

But he WILL prove he can live up to his father's wishes. That he's not what his father claims him to be. That he can still feel his father embrace him lovingly again, even for just a few short moments. That he's not a failure, nor a pig-child, nor whatever else he says.

And maybe this time, he'll try not to die again.

Or even sleep for that matter. Just in case.

[fakeikemen]

Katara's Grief

(This is my first attempt at a meta post and I know that this has probably been already done but I just needed to get it off my chest and go on a little rant and it kinda got long so bear with me.)

A lot of the hate on Katara stems from the fact that she keeps on mentioning her mother's death at every chance she gets and invalidates other people's pain to assert that her suffering is the worst of the lot.

And even though everybody is entitled to their own opinions, I'm gonna point out why I think the aforesaid claims are not exactly correct.

First we'll take a look at; Katara's Backstory:

We know that Kya is killed in a fire nation raid and that Katara had been the last person to see her alive before she leaves the tent on her mother's insistence. Only to come back a few moments later and find her dead body. This, in itself is a traumatising event.

So yes, her mother died. Other people in the story go through far worse. You're not wrong when you say that.

But what is more important in Katara's story is the aftermath of her mother's death.

As Sokka says while talking to Toph in "The Runaway" in B3 Ep7:

Sokka: When our mom died, that was the hardest time in my life. Our family was a mess, but Katara? She had so much strength. She stepped up and took on so much responsibility. She helped fill the void that was left by our mom.

As an eight year old, she had to force herself to grow up to step into her mother's shoes and raise herself and her elder brother and simultaneously look after the entire village after her father left to fight in the war. She had to do all of it by herself.

In face of all her responsibilities, she never really had the chance to simply be a grieving child lamenting the loss of her mother. She habituated herself to caring more about others than herself (We see this trait in the entire series as she acts as the stand-in mom friend for the entire Gaang with an exception of Suki and Zuko). She ended up bottling her feelings of grief, resentment, guilt and rage deep within herself.

She had to give up an extensive part of her childhood where most children focus on figuring themselves out, to become a mature and responsible person who was working as the immovable pillar holding up the family and even the whole village not much later.

She put up a strong front to help others and pretended to be fine even though she was hurting inside the whole time.

She could never find any closure from the situation. She never got over it.

Moving on to the criticisms:

1. Katara keeps on mentioning her mother like a broken record:

Here are the number of times Katara mentions her mother's death (not sure if that's all of it, lmk if there are any others):

1. In her first scene with Sokka

Katara: Ever since mom died, I've been doing all the work around camp while you've been off playing soldier!

2. A short while after she meets Aang

Katara: Well, I just want you to be prepared for what you might see. The Fire Nation is ruthless. They killed my mother, and they could have done the same to your people.

3. A short while after she meets Haru

Katara: I lost my mother in a Fire Nation raid. This necklace is all I have left of her.

4. A short while after she meets Jet

Katara: Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation.

5. In the swamp after she sees a vision of her mother

Katara: I thought I saw Mom.

6. In the Crystal Catacombs with Zuko

Katara: I don't? How dare you! You have no idea what this war has put me through! Me personally! The Fire Nation took my mother away from me.

7. A short while after she meets Hama

Katara: We completely understand. We lost our mother in a raid.

8. Repeated mentions in The Southern Raiders episode

(Most of the episode basically)

The first mention with Sokka is in the middle of a siblings' spat where she tells off Sokka for trying to act as if he were superior when it was obvious that in the face of the gaping hole that was left by Kya's sudden death, Katara had shouldered much more responsibility.

When she tells it to Aang, she uses it as a proof that the Fire Nation is capable of immense cruelty and destruction.

The Gaang travel all around the world and meet different people affected by the war in different ways. So when Haru, Jet and Hama narrate their own stories, Katara sympathises with them and talks about Kya's death in lieu of "I understand, the Fire Nation hurt me too."

After they got separated, Aang, Sokka and Katara each had their visions and after they get back together, they all mention their visions and so does Katara.

When left alone in catacombs with Zuko, whom she considered as the face of the Fire Nation— the same Fire Nation that had her mother killed and forced her father to leave to fight in the war, she has a meltdown where she rightfully accuses him of all the bad things he's done and then breaks down while talking about how the war has cost her i.e., by causing her mother's death.

The Southern Raiders is the episode where Katara hunts down the man responsible for her mother's death. If you think mentioning Kya repeatedly in this episode is uncalled for, then I don't know what to tell you.

In all the incidents mentioned above, Katara mentioning her mother's death is a very natural occurrence is the respective conversations. She mostly talks about Kya's death to either extend her sympathy or to use it as an example of the ruthlessness of the Fire Nation.

Another fact to be noted is that 70% of the Gaang's storyline is followed via Katara from a narrative point of view. Plus, being the mom-friend, she acts as the spokesperson. Considering that Kya's death is a major event that played a huge role in shaping Katara's life and is also the source of her severe, unresolved trauma, which acts as the driving force of her story, it is only natural that she brings up this topic whenever she is engaging in a deeper conversation.

It is us as the viewers who have seen her from the start and already know about her mother's death and we see her talking to multiple people about it. Which is why it might come across as repetitive to some people.

While, Kya's death is not necessary information that everyone needs to know, Katara talking about it never comes across as a forced or unnatural.

2. Katara invalidates others' pain because she thinks she has suffered the most:

First of all, if anything, Katara is the most empathetic person of them all. As the mom-friend of the group, not only is she their constant moral support, she also helps them untangle and sort out their own feelings. She is also able to tap into issues that aren't said out loud.

Instances of Katara helping and supporting Aang, emotionally are uncountable.

She is the first one to notice Sokka's sour mood in B3 Ep4 "Sokka's Master". And even though his insecurities seem baseless, she validates him (by saying "I'm sorry you're feeling so down" instead of something like "That's a dumb thing to say") and knows exactly what to do to cheer him up.

In B3 Ep7 "The Runaway" she has the insight to understand that Toph's unruly behaviour is caused by the mixed feelings she has about her parents even though Toph's herself never talked about it.

She even reaches out to Zuko in B2 Ep19 "Crossroads of Destiny" even though she used to think of him as the face of the enemy.

But then there's The Southern Raiders.

Ah yes, that episode where Katara is extremely OOC and a total b*tch.

Agreed that she said some things that she definitely shouldn't have said. But like, she's just 14?? And has been hurting on the inside since she was 8?? And pretended to be fine just for the sake of other people?? Like, there's a limit to how much she can have her shit under control?? And she did a real good job of Sokka's upbringing and taking care of the village and taking care of Gaang on her own?? Some people out there are really willing to forget everything she has ever done just because she was mean for 5 minutes?? A traumatised 14 yo shouldn't be villianised and called toxic because she got mad and lashed out at people that one time??

But here's my take on the scene anyway:

When Aang gets to know that she's going to go face her mother's killer:

Aang: Um ... and what exactly do you think this will accomplish?

Katara: I knew you wouldn't understand. 

Aang is a non-confrontational person who prefers running away from difficult situations as opposed to Katara who firmly stands her ground and is never afraid of confrontations. Katara had approached Aang only hoping that he would understand. But going by his dismissal, he obviously doesn't understand the burning need that she has to confront the man who had single-handedly destroyed her childhood. (Most people infer that what Katara means is that she thinks that Aang doesn't understand the pain of losing people. And so does Aang, I guess)

But things start getting even more tricky when:

Aang: Katara, you sound like Jet.

In all honesty, this is probably the most insensitive thing that she could've heard from anyone right then, let alone one of her closest friends. Hearing herself being compared to a homicidal maniac just because she wants to avenge her mother's killer. (No, I'm not justifying murder but there's a clear difference between homicide and avenging someone's death. And Aang may not be my favourite character but I do love him but this wasn't really a good thing to say either. And he wasn't even mentally distressed in the very least to be completely lacking tact or a filter.)

And then the situation escalates:

Sokka: Katara, she was my mother, too, but I think Aang might be right.

Katara: Then you didn't love her the way I did!

After 6 long years of Katara bottling in her dark feelings and letting them fester inside herself, she is finally letting them out and the first things she faces in a span of few minutes are outright rejection, invalidation of her feelings, comparison to a homicidal maniac and nothing akin to the unconditional support that she has provided to everybody. Her own brother tells her that he is siding with the boy who just compared her to a homicidal maniac.

Yes, accusing your own brother of not loving your mother enough is a very cruel thing to do. But both Sokka and Katara know that she doesn't entirely mean it.

But also, there is one very important factor in here:

In B3 Ep7 "The Runaway", Sokka says to Toph:

Sokka: I'm gonna tell you something crazy. I never told anyone this before, but honestly? I'm not sure I can remember what my mother looked like. It really seems like my whole life, Katara's been the one looking out for me. She's always been the one that's there. And now, when I try to remember my mom, Katara's is the only face I can picture. 

Katara overhears this conversation just as Sokka had meant her to.

This dialogue lets us know that Sokka's coping mechanism has made him suppress all memories of Kya and replace them with memories of Katara in order to attain a semblance of normalcy.

Both Katara and Sokka had very different ways of coping with Kya's death. Katara pressed down her feelings and tried her best to pretend to ignore them while Sokka partially succeeded in forgetting her.

When Katara first hears these words she is shown to be crying. But if she were to remember these very words while she was justifying herself infront of her own brother and a close friend for wanting to avenge her mother, it would've had a negative impact on her.

In her rage, she would've thought: "Of course he doesn't want to avenge mom. Because he doesn't think it's worth it and that's because he doesn't even remember enough of her to be mad about her death."

And for someone who has spent each day of the last 6 years trying to fill in the shoes of her mother and experiencing her absence everyday, the idea of forgetting her mother is a ridiculous concept to her.

Her thoughts would have quickly derailed to: "He didn't love her enough to remember her."

In light of these thoughts, saying "Then you didn't love her the way I did" doesn't feel out of the blue.

No, I am definitely not justifying what she said, I'm just laying out a possible explanation to why she said what she said.

Yes, she should've apologized to Sokka for this and I think that they definitely should've had a long conversation about their mother's death and how it affected them. Between Katara supressing her feelings and Sokka supressing his memories, i don't think they ever had this conversation.

But sadly we are given neither of these scenes.

Tl;dr: Everytime Katara mentions her mother, it's with good reason and I don't think it's fair to call a character toxic when they lack a mind to mouth filter for 5 minutes and say some mean things. And considering all that Katara has done for everybody, it isn't fair at all.

Peace out!

[paleface-warmheart]

Is it farewell to the ‘clever girl’?

“That’s right, but they never attack the same place twice.They were testing the fences for weaknesses. Systematically” - Jurassic Park 1993

Meaning ‘swift seizer’ in Latin, the Velociraptor appears to be the most terrifying of all of the dinosaurs. During that 1993 classic film from my childhood, the scene in which they hunt and terrorise the young children in the kitchen would give me nightmares. So much so, that as a grown adult in my 30′s I still cannot watch that scene. The thought of these ferocious, predatory creatures who hunt in packs, and fool their prey were more horrifying to me than the Tyrannosaurs Rex ever was.

After a recent interaction with an old ‘friend’ those memorable lines from Jurassic Park, ‘clever girl’ and the one about how they try to find weaknesses in the perimeter fencing, came flooding back to me. Why? Why would I suddenly be reminded of those lines when thinking about the old ‘friend’ that I had known of since Kindergarten. The one who grew up with me in the same country area, and the one whose parents and mine, were former best friends. That was really all we had in common. She was never very good at school, didn’t have much interest in the bands and movies I liked, was painfully thin while I was the ‘fat kid’. She also appeared scarily asthmatic requiring a ridiculous breathing machine during class times each Winter. Unnecessary, but she loved the attention. To later discover that she was also creepily infatuated with her next door neighbour throughout high school, just added to her oddness. Neighbour was also a girl, but this one was beautiful, earthy, somewhat intelligent and highly attractive to the opposite sex. This old ‘friend’ would latch onto her, want to know her whereabouts, what she was doing, when they would be catching up again. It was suffocating. The beautiful girl knew that she would never let go until she had to break away, escape the clutches of the old ‘friend’. I couldn’t help but think of how whenever I would catch up with this old ‘friend’ she would make me feel worse about my situation. I would end up rehashing the horrible parts of my life. She would then complain about receiving financial support from her parents in ways that I had only ever dreamed of. After catching up with her this last time, I would no longer feel frustrated, weak and bewildered, like I often had in the past. Things had been made so much more obvious to me, and she was still the same. How and why?

Was it her lack of insight? Selfishness? Spoiltness? Inability to accept responsibility for her long history of shitty behaviour? That behaviour that my partner had recently experienced right after the horror of discovering that his ‘special lady’ had jumped from a 5-storey building in a failed attempt to end her own pain, and his too. The selfishness of the old ‘friends’ behaviour that was evident in her reaction towards him. The tantrum-like behaviour of an individual who was not getting her way, not getting what she wanted, not getting what she had too often gotten from me. Priority. Granted, it was an incredibly stressful, shocking time, and she was understandably upset, traumatised and in disbelief. Sounds a bit like how I felt when I discovered the truth, and sounds a lot like how Nick felt the entire time too, and in many ways still does.

That feeling of nervousness, but satisfaction in being able to confront her, to witness whether she was going to face-up and admit that she was wrong. To admit that her behaviour towards Nick was inappropriate, self-centred and worthy of a long overdue apology. That no amount of rehashing her trauma, her tragedies, her horrible upbringing would overshadow how wrong she had been. I was awaiting the opportunity to see if she was still as fucked up a human as I remember. Or was I just becoming another one to add to the list, the long list. The ever increasing list of her ‘friends’ to burn the bridge connecting them to her, connecting them to the human ‘swift seizer’. Beautiful girl had long been on that list. Would I be joining her?

Her ‘velociraptor like’ nature was becoming increasingly more evident. She never ‘hunted’ in a pack, she was more of a loner. However, just like the creatures in the film, she would test, and test, and test, and hope to find a weakness in others. Hope to find something that she could feed off of. Her favourite weakness of all to feed from was the trauma or personal tragedy of others. A tragedy or trauma that she could ‘mine’ for more information, more sustenance. Pretend that she cared, while all along analysing the information to see what she could use, how she could guilt them, manipulate them and make her feel like a ’clever girl’ whenever she succeeded. 

To finally admit that you were the ‘prey’ and that she had been successful in manipulating you,and feeding from you. She had succeeded in identifying your weaknesses, identified your gullibility and your need to feel liked. That same manipulation that had been identified and exposed to you by other friends, but the manipulation that you had long been in denial of. That manipulation that works to find a weakness, any weakness that can become fodder for the old ‘friend’. Something she would feed off of, identifying ways in which to satisfy her needs. Admitting that the manipulation existed, would therefore mean that you would have to admit that you were weak. Weak, just like MIranda had called you throughout your childhood. You cry because Mum hits you? You’re weak. You are indecently assaulted by a work colleague? You’re weak.  Weak. Weak, Weak. Fuck you.

Remembering the early days of being forced to make yourself familiar with that old ‘friend’ who you have known of your whole life, but never truly known. Never invited to their childhood birthday parties, never invited over for slumber parties and movie nights. Never. Not much of a friend back then, and one hell of a ‘swift seizer’ now. She was too obsessed with the beautiful girl anyway. Beautiful girl got away and old ‘friend’ was still left back home, under the watchful eye of her fuck up of a mother. The only ‘mother’ who had the same narcissistic characteristics as your own mother. Maybe that is why she is such a fuck up? Maybe that is why you were easy prey? Anyway, she needed an escape. You helped facilitate that escape. The confusion you felt when she contacted you years after high school wanting to catch up. Why? We were never really friends? Never had similar interests? She would be rude, blunt in high school, but how dare you call her out on that. That’s being a bully. That’s being mean.

 However, you were a mess when she contacted you anyway. Stuck in a shit of a job, life going nowhere, a handful of friends, desperately needing change. You needed someone, anyone. She came along. You were happy that you had someone to do fun things with like go to concerts, music festivals and other adventures that you rarely got to experience. Someone that introduced you to a whole new group of people. People that would eventually become some of your favourite people. I am thankful for that. 

You know that the old ‘friend, the ‘clever girl’ still has a hold. She has so much information, knows my weaknesses and will forever look for another way in. Some way to test, and test, and test. 

Should I be more like the Tyrannosaurus Rex? Stand strong. Stand tall and farewell her...?