finally finished this! here's the Borderlands AU version of the Cataclysm girls!
finally finished this! here's the Borderlands AU version of the Cataclysm girls!
So. Cursive is taught because it helps develop fine motor skills but ASL helps develop both fine and gross motor skills, plus it allows for access for Deaf and HOH people to communicate if we teach children that.
hey i wrote this in one of those tagging games once but this is a reminder that my Klaus knows ASL! he’s not completely fluent, (and it was actually a bit harder to learn because he’s left handed) but he spent a lot of time teaching himself when his jaw was wired shut, and then continued to learn it even after because it was super helpful on missions (and to talk shit with allison at dinner while the other siblings weren’t paying attention)
ok so im not sleeping for the next 48h. i hate my life
literally sobbing about portgas d ace in 2021 😎✨
anxiety making me doubt every single thing I’ve ever said or done ‘was that a normal human interaction????’ I sure as hell don’t know. ‘you ever wonder if these are even words anyone would ever actually use in that order and not come across as absolutely unhinged?? ?’ well now I fucking do
fine man bickslow,,,,also laxus' fight w jurassic jura was so good, so fine too laxus pls come to life
hoh! dsmp! georgenotfound. just because.
Smol Shanks needs to stop giving me baby fevers
i really hope i get into all the classes i want this semester .. im already sick of the mandatory ones i just wanna have fun please god
if you practice ramadan, feel free to unfollow/block me for the month, cos i do swear n whatnot on here
(taking 3 different language courses in one semester because im insane and pursuing a lingusitucs/modern languages degree) haha seems like a good time to also try to pick up some tagalog and learn more about the grammatical structures of old english :)
24 mar 2021
dwsa dump 1: oops all melchritz
2 / 3 / 🦋
I really love when you’re learning a language and you’ve just been repeating sentences or translating them back and forth snd then all of a sudden it’s like boom organic thought in target language and tldr I realized last night I can sign “I get anxious when I’m high” from that tiktok trend I’ve had stuck in my head for three days
So, @winterpower98 Just posted a li’ll something about a swap AU, but between the Traffic Light trio and some of the JTTW crew. You can read about that here for context for this snippet that i promptly wrote after she shared the idea slkdfmawe
Anyway, without further ado:
Have some words >:P
(2,114 words to be precise)
Red Son watched Wukong get involved in things he should never have known about and felt his anger build with each passing attack that his kid was forced to thwart.
Monkey King, Mk, he had no right, he had no right to suddenly thrust himself into his kid’s life. He had no right to reappear after so long and take Red Son’s kid, to turn him into someone made to fight his battles for him. He had no right to take something dear to Red Son and twist it, and take it, and change it until he barely recognized him anymore.
Wukong was never the heaviest of sleepers, but Red Son could tell he wasn’t sleeping nearly as much since he’d become Mk’s successor. He was restless, paranoid, jumping at the littlest of sounds that he shouldn’t have noticed anymore, in a way that reminded him of how he was when they had first met, back when he’d first took a young, shaking kid under his wing and into his shop, into his life, giving him support and safety when he could find none in the places he’d once known. If he’d ever had any in the first place, and Red Son didn’t think he did.
It had taken years to get to the point they were at, to have built up trust enough for Wukong to flop down on his couch after a long day, unafraid of putting his feet on the coffee table, even after Red Son told him not to, because he knew, even if he was loud, even if he was angry sometimes, he knew that Red Son would never tell him to leave, that he would never hurt him.
And then Mk had come along, and in a matter of days, he had taken all of that, and uprooted it, ruining everything Red Son had worked so hard to build with his kid.
He was through with letting him abuse his kid. Through letting him give him responsibilities he didn’t deserve to have weighing down on him, and power he didn’t need, powers that never should have been his.
High on his anger, his defensive rage, his bitterness and his refusal to let go of past hurt, Red Son shifted into his demon form, and proceeded to make the worst mistake of his life.
Wukong didn’t recognize him. He was counting on it. Too arrogant to be cautious when the Demon Bull who seemed to know a lot about Monkey King offered to train him. Or rather tricked him into demanding he be trained. Red Son knew Wukong well. He was as prideful as he was powerful, egotistical as he was selfless. It didn’t take much to coax him into asking for training, to convince him it has been his own idea all along, and the Demon Bull was simply doing him a favour.
Red Son built from the ground up all over again, but this time, instead of it coming from a place of care, compassion, and kindness, it was from a place of overprotective rage and bitterness, of anger that he had never really let go of.
He planted seeds of resentment inside his kid. He coaxed him to think of the Monkey King as a hindrance more than a help, to put distance between him and his mentor.
He was so blinded by his unshakable commitment to seeing it through that he didn’t see… he didn’t see the way Wukong changed under his tutelage, didn’t see the way he slept even less than he already did, the way he snapped more often and always seemed to have the staff on hand rather than hidden in his ear. He didn’t notice what he was doing to his own kid.
His plan came to head and he took Wukong’s Monkey King powers the only way he knew how, the way he’d been preparing for since he’d first approached him in his demon form:
He knew Wukong was too attached to them to give them up willingly, he knew he’d never understand what the powers were doing to him, what Mk was doing to him, how he was being harmed by them. High with his rage and bitterness and hidden behind the shield of a form Wukong did not know was his, did not know was Red Son, he ripped Monkey King’s powers right out of him, and pinned him to a mountain with the staff he could no longer wield to keep him out of harm's way.
Out of harm's way, he’d thought, mere moments after harming him himself.
He pulled Monkey King’s powers into himself, because he knew he would need them, because this was what he’d been preparing to do since the moment he’d begun planning this, because he had known he would have needed Monkey King’s powers in order to truly stand against him. To stand against him and to win.
He bulldozed through the sound of pain Wukong made when he forced the powers out of him, the yell as he hit the mountain, the look of betrayal and hurt, only barely masked by stubborn pride, as though he were telling himself again and again that it didn’t hurt because it didn’t care. He ignored all of it, barely registering any of it, so completely focused on going through with his plan, on ensuring Monkey King would be out of their lives forever that he didn’t realize… didn’t see…
Monkey King came to him, saving him the trouble of flying all the way to his island, to his secluded mountain of solitude and hypocrisy. He arrived like he was the one protecting Wukong and Red Son’s rage sparkled and crackled until it lit up in an inferno consuming him inside and out and they fought.
The power of Monkey King was immense. It was earth shaking and burned him with the heat of the sun, rising up and burning away everything in a white blaze.
Luckily for Red Son, he was used to the feeling of burning from the inside out.
The ground shook under them with every blow, it was invigorating and added all the more to his rage, to be able to punch with enough force to send the Monkey King through several mountains, to actually hurt him; to bring pain to the untouchable.
He almost forgot Wukong was watching them.
Almost forgot his kid was there.
The mountain started to shake apart.
The mountain that his kid was one, and he didn’t notice.
“Red!” Monkey King yelled at him, blocking a blow. He hadn’t been throwing many punches, Red Son noticed distantly before his rage swallowed up the thought. “You have to stop this!”
“I don’t have to do anything,” he snarled back, throwing another punch fast enough that he was knocked off his feet and hurtling into the side of the mountain. He lunged after him, roaring. “You are never going to interfere with my family again!”
He slammed into him, pushing him back further into the rock of the mountain, cracks spider-webbing across the entire surface, up and up and up and--
His scream was sudden and unexpected and the entire world ground to a halt.
“Kid,” Mk said, like he had the right.
Red Son went flying.
He crashed into the side of the next mountain over, rocks falling all around him until he fell with them too, landing back on the ground with a slight stagger. He looked up just in time to see Mk saving his kid from their battle. From his battle.
A rock hurtled down towards them as Mk struggled, in a moment of weakness, hurt from the fight, and sluggish with exhaustion, to remove the staff that was keeping Wukong pinned and in the path of the falling rocks.
No, no, he was supposed to be safe.
Red Son was there in an instant, the powers he’d taken, stolen, giving him the speed required to be there to slam into the boulder with enough force to make it explode so only small rocks littered down on them.
Wukong pushed against the staff, and Mk pulled with everything he had and it came loose with their combined effort, and then Monkey King grabbed his chosen successor, who held the staff tightly, who held it even without Monkey King’s powers in him, and moved.
He hurtled away from the falling mountain, Red Son barely a step behind, holding Wukong tightly in his arms, protecting him from any stray falling debris until they landed on the ground, far enough away that there was no danger from the mountain.
Red Son watched as Wukong stumbled when Monkey King set him down, then he landed a short distance away.
“Red,” Mk said, sharp as a knife but with none of the hardness. Only a pleading exhaustion and anger.“Stop.”
Red Son felt the world halt a second time as Wukong’s eyes flicked once to Monkey King, confusion on his face, then to Red himself, a series of emotions flashing across his face too fast to read.
Except it wasn’t.
Red Son knew him, he’d known his kid for years, and he could see every piece of information flitting through his mind as he processed, connected and pieced together the things he knew.
Red son watched as he blinked, his eyes shifting to gold, and could do nothing to stop it.
If he thought the look from before was betrayal, it was nothing compared to the expression that came onto Wukong’s face then.
His voice was small when he said:
He watched him as he paled, knuckles white from his grip on the staff, holding it so tightly his hands began to shake, eyes wide and disbelieving, pleading that he was seeing things wrong, but knowing only that it was the truth.
“Kid,” Red Son tried, stepping forward, reaching for him, feeling sick to his stomach at the horrible look that was directed at him.
He could see the emotions flashing across his face: the horror, the denial, the confusion, the hurt, the complete and utter betrayal.
He stumbled back, away from him, shaking.
Red Son’s heart stopped, and so did the rest of him, freezing in place, hooves rooted to the ground, completely still and unmoving as a ten ton stone.
In all the time he’d known him, even when he’d found him on the streets, even when he’d first come into his home, broken and alone and scared…
Wukong had never once flinched away from him like that.
His heart was crushing, crumpling up and squeezing until it was hard to breathe, he took an aborted step forward, and Wukong…
Wukong, who had never once admitted to being afraid, who was always louder then life itself, and yelled at the top of his lungs, and pretended, all the time, to be unstoppable, untouchable, even when he was young and trembling…
Behind Mk, he stumbled, scrambled, desperately, terrified, hurt. He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it, grabbing onto the back of Monkey King’s shirt and holding on tight like a lifeline, like he was the only reason he was still standing, and looking at Red like…
Like he was someone he trusted who had stolen his powers, pinned him to a mountain, tried to kill his mentor, and nearly killed him as well in the process.
Red Son’s mouth went dry.
“Kid,” he tried, choked, and high, and afraid. “I never meant—“ he stepped forward again, desperate to explain, to tell him he never meant to hurt him, to tell him he’d never hurt him intentionally. (But he had, hadn't he? He’d known how this would go.)
He faltered again, as Wukong ducked behind Mk even further, breathing hard and shaking so badly it seemed he would lose his grip on the staff.
Picking up on his distress, (how could he not, it was so obvious,) Mk threw his arm out, shielding his kid from him, baring his teeth and tensing. “Don’t come any closer,” he said, the threat clear, and Red Son…
He could do nothing but obey, frozen where he was at the sight of Wukong peering out at him from behind Monkey King’s shoulder, and he realized then, under his fearful, confused, betrayed, hurt gaze, with completely surety, that he had just done something terribly, terribly wrong.
Mk gathered Wukong up in his arms, eyes never leaving Red Son for a second, then leapt onto his cloud and was gone, just like that.
Red Son stood, alone on the mountain range, still as stone, and twice as hollow, and realized that because of his actions…
He had lost his kid.