sunflawer759

[sunflawer759]

Hands. Their hands are intimacy

[sunflawer759]

Mass Effect Legendary Edition: ME3 (dev. Bioware)

[sunflawer759]

The new past AU: The attack

CW: blood (not very visible)

Finally sharing this art✨ the shiny stuffs are magical/celestial spearheads, don't question too much how this work or how this could cause fire, it just did-

Writing of the scene under the cut! Enjoy!! (angst with a happy ending ofc)

It was a peaceful and calm day on Flower Fruit Mountain, and today, MK was with his dad and the pilgrims.

Macaque was taking his usual stroll in the peach orchard, appreciating this beautiful corner of his home.  when this uneasy feeling slowly crawled under his skin. He could feel it, something was about to happen.Wanting to know the source of this feeling, he used his enhanced hearing. But even with it, he wasn’t able to pinpoint the exact origin of the disturbance; only that it was coming from the celestial realm.

The next moments all happened so fast: focusing all his attention toward the sky high above, Macaque never expected the sound of commotion coming from his very home. 

How was this possible?? He was convinced the problem is with the celestials, there is no way the mountain was the target- oh - oh no- now everything made sense.”Heaven is attacking”.

How could this happen?? How could the Six Eared Macaque not hear an incoming attack?! He’s supposed to protect this place! This couldn’t be real, this was a nightmare, and he can’t wake up. 

He rushed to the source of commotion, hearing only screams and noises that will forever haunt him, forgetting his shadow power in his panic.

Finally leaving the forest and at the border of the clearing, his heart sank with the scene his eye lay upon:

The mountain is covered in flames, the village is destroyed, and monkeys are escaping the chaos the best they could.

With a shaky breath, Macaque looks around, he needs to find the author of this monstrosity, and make them regret their actions.That’s when he looked up: there he was “Erlang Shen”, attacking his beloved home. 

Macaque was ready to jump at his throat, but Erlang summoned another round of his celestial spears, aiming what was left of the village. Rage clouded his mind, but before he could unleash his wrath, he got distracted by a noise: a small chirp ; barely audible even with his hearing.Then he saw: in the middle of the celestial aims, a cub, curled up in a ball, so small that Erlang mustn't have seen her. And if Macaque doesn’t do something, the spear will kill her. So, without thinking twice, Macaque jumps to protect the cub, not caring about getting hurt. Ignoring the throbbing pain coming from his shoulder, he look down at the cub, relieved to see they are unharmed.He turns his head toward the attacker, baring his teeth and glaring at him with eyes filled with rage.

Erlang high in the sky, stopped his attack upon noticing Macaque.He open his mouth and start talking to him:

 “Consider this a warning, do not even try to go against heaven ever again”.

 “What’s the meaning of this- this unjustified violence Erlang?!EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” 

Erlang, look down, no visible emotion on his face “ I have nothing against you, Six eared Macaque, I was only doing what I was ordered to do.”

“Ordered?? What, are we seen as a threat to receive this kind of destruction?? Does the stupid Journey mean nothing to you Celestials?!”

Erlang paused, then answered with a more serious look : “The heaven knows of your child. From what was seen when he’s in company of the pilgrims, he’s not a threat for Heaven” 

macaque: “... then why this horrible warning?”

 Erlang sighted; “ Li Jing was the one who ordered me to do it. Your kid may behave well now, but to ensure any of you don’t do anything against the celestial realm in the futur, he saw deems that a warning had to take place”

Macaque, whispering between his teeth “ what a load of crap..”

Erlang: “If this cub still behaves until the end of the journey, Heaven will officially leave him alone and not do anything to your little family. Now if you excuse me, I need to report back. Goodbye Six ears Macaque, and sorry.”

The celestials left as fast as he arrived. 

Macaque, still shocked by what happened, looked around him, still holding close the cub in his arm. So much was lost, not all monkeys managed to escape in time. The small cub, after being paralyzed by fear this whole time, starts to cry and sob uncontrollably, chirping for her parents. 

The shadow monkey, wanting to help this lost kid, asks her where the last place she saw them: with her small shaky paw, she points to the right. But when he looked in this direction, the only thing he could see was what used to be a house, devoured by flame. Using his enhanced hearing all around,his ears only met the sound of fire and things burning. There was no sign of life, everyone who’s alive was already far from here, and there is no way parents would leave without their cub.

 It could only mean one thing, and Macaque hates everything about it: the poor kid lost both her parents in this stupid attack from Heaven.

Macaque’s mind started to become hazy from the blood loss, but he had to check the house for the cub's parents, he wanted to believe they were somehow still alive. But it was too late, the house completely collapsed and it was only an inferno of flames now. 

His legs gave in, all hopes for possible survivors are now gone; the cub and his heartbeat are the only things he can hear right now. 

He doesn't know what to do, he is here, alone with the cub, doing his best to calm her down, surrounded by flames. Using his shadow power was not an option, he’s too unstable right now and it might put the kid in danger. 

His vision is slowly fading, and the only things he can see in the distance is… Xiaotian? What's he doing here? And is that… Wukong? Why are they both on the Mountain..? Shouldn’t they be on the journey..?

They both rush to his side in a panic:

 “BABA! OH GOD WHAT HAPPEN HERE–” MK shouted in panic, “YOU’RE HURT! AND VERY BADLY TOO!! Dad what do we do??”

 “Xiaotian.. don’t worry it’s okay-”

 “ MOON!” Wukong immediately crouches down to look at his face and injuries “WHO DARE DO THAT!? TELL ME AND I WILL KILL THEM-” he said with a voice filled with venom, ready to unleash his power to whoever did that.

“Sun.. please don’t.. it will only cause more problems… “Macaque said while caressing his lover face, “just please can you check if this cub’s parents are alive? she told me they were over there-” 

Wukong calms down and looks in said direction, using his golden vision to find who they are looking for. But as expected, no lifeforce could be detected. Macaque looked at Wukong, waiting for an answer, which Wukong gave by simply shaking his head.

 “...I see.” Macaque takes a deep breath, wincing from the pain “.. Why.. are you both here?”

MK answered with a shaky voice: “I- I felt that something happened to you. It was as if my shadow power was screaming to me to get to you. So that’s what I did” 

“What’s important is that we are here! But no more talking!” Wukong interrupts, lifting Macaque and laying him down on his nimbus, “We need to treat your injuries first! Let’s get to our house, it should be fine being behind the waterfall-” 

“Wait, what about the kid?! we can’t just leave her here!”MK ask.

“Of course we bring her too! Come on MK, I thought you were smarter than this” Wukong lightly chuckles “also she is firmly gripping Mihou, I doubt she will easily let go”

Macaque let out a weak laugh, relieved to have his family around him.

__________

Oof okay so I ended up writing more than I anticipated (also if there is any error please ignore them lmao) sdfdsf

BUT FINALLY!! THE MEIHUA LORE!!

Don’t worry Macaque recovered pretty quickly and Wukong and MK take good care of him during his recovery✨ I have brain more stuff for what happen next, but it will be in another post✨

Masterpost

[sunflawer759]

Today is mother's day in my country, so Mamacaque get some flowers from his kids and a soft kiss from Wukong✨

Meihua made the flowers crown and MK the bouquet textless version:

[sunflawer759]

A quiet place in the back of Thunderclap Temple.

Available for free on my Patreon.

[sunflawer759]

┊ 6 ┊ Streets Where Gods go Hiding

A stranger with golden eyes stops in the rain. He says he once walked with you through worlds that no longer exist. And for a moment, you believe him.

The city smells like wet pavement and old wishes.

Rain falls soft against your coat, clinging to your eyelashes like ghosts that haven’t let go.

Neon bleeds into puddles.

Footsteps echo down alleys that don’t always lead to where they should.

You’ve walked this route a thousand times —

and yet, tonight, everything feels slightly… wrong. Or maybe right, in a way you forgot to name.

 

Then you see him.

 

A stranger stands beneath a flickering streetlamp.

He isn’t holding an umbrella. The rain slips down his shoulders like it knows him.

 

Golden eyes.

That’s the first thing you notice — gold, not yellow, not amber — but gold, like light distilled into something you could drink.

His coat is dark. Too old for this time. His staff rests beside him like a secret he’s not trying very hard to hide.

 

He doesn’t move until you pass.

And when he speaks, his voice is a story written in thunder:

 

“I remember walking with you.

Through mountains that have since fallen into sky.

Across bridges of bone and silk.

Do you remember me?”

 

You don’t.

You shouldn’t.

But your chest aches — like something there once bloomed, once burned.

 

You pause, and in the pause, the world exhales.

 

The streetlight hums.

Rain pools around your feet.

And somewhere, in the far-off hum of a train passing, you think you hear your name.

 

“I’m just trying to get home,” you murmur.

 

He smiles, and it breaks your heart.

“No,” he says. “You’re trying to remember where home was.”

 

He steps back into the night, vanishing between a bookstore and a bakery that wasn’t there yesterday.

You stand alone,

but not empty.

 

Because now, there’s a thread tugging at your ribs,

a warmth blooming under your skin,

a memory that isn’t a memory —

just his voice in the rain,

and a pair of golden eyes that saw you

before you ever knew to look.

 

𖦹 There are streets where gods still go hiding.

And sometimes — if you’re listening — they find you first.

[sunflawer759]

┊ 7 ┊ stage, curtain, eternity

he plays the Monkey King. you play the one who doesn’t recognize him. but in the third act, something in his eyes breaks — and the world begins again.

It begins, as all things do,

with a spotlight.

 

You stand in the wings of a velvet theatre, moth-eaten and dust-veiled.

The boards beneath your feet are old wood, soaked with echoes —

of laughter, of silence, of stories told and told again.

 

They call your name. Not your real one —

the one you wear for this act.

You step forward. The curtain parts like an open wound.

And across from you, already in motion beneath the golden glow —

is him.

 

He plays the Monkey King.

 

Of course he does.

 

He wears the mask well —

crown askew, staff spinning in practiced ease,

each gesture carved from a myth so old even the gods have forgotten its ending.

 

The audience watches.

You speak your lines.

And he — he does too, at first.

 

But somewhere in Act Two, he hesitates.

Just once.

A single moment, a breath too long between motions —

where he looks at you

not like a character would

but like someone who’s waited lifetimes for you to see him.

 

You forget your line.

 

His smile wavers.

The lights flicker.

And backstage, the sound of time unspooling begins to rise —

quiet, like thread snapping.

 

In Act Three, the scene calls for farewell.

You are meant to leave him behind.

You are meant to bow, to smile, to exit stage right.

But he speaks again —

not with words the script gave him,

but with something deeper. Something truer.

 

His eyes —

gold cracked with sorrow — meet yours.

And something breaks.

 

Not on the stage.

In the world.

 

The floor gives way to clouds.

The theatre vanishes.

You are standing on a mountain again. Or maybe it’s the end of the sky.

You’ve been here before, haven’t you?

 

He reaches for you, no longer in costume,

no longer pretending.

 

“Please,” he whispers.

“This time — remember me.”

 

And the curtain falls.

But it does not end.

 

𖦹 Because some plays were never fiction.

And some love stories begin only after the seventh act.

[sunflawer759]

┊ 5 ┊ Peach Trees at the Edge of Ending

The world is over, but the blossoms still open for him. And when he smiles, the sky seems to remember spring.

The world ended softly.

No sirens, no fire —

only a long breath held too long,

and then silence.

Ash settled where rain used to fall.

Buildings became bones.

Names slipped from memory like dry petals in wind.

 

And yet —

he still comes.

 

You find him beneath the peach trees.

They should not exist.

Nothing should, not here, not now.

But they bloom.

 

Every spring — if this can still be called spring —

the trees along the hill unfold their pinks,

their gentle whites, their sighs of life

where life has no right to be.

 

And he stands among them like something remembered by the earth itself.

 

You don’t know his name.

Or maybe you did once, long ago, when the rivers still sang.

All you know is that when he smiles, the sky seems to blush —

as if recalling what warmth felt like.

 

His fur is sun-drenched bronze, touched by soot and time.

His robes are patched, dirt-worn, but he wears them like royalty.

He speaks little. Sometimes not at all.

But his eyes carry stories your bones want to believe.

 

You sit beside him.

He offers you a peach.

It is warm from his hand —

still firm, still fragrant, impossibly real.

You eat in silence,

and the world, for a moment, does not feel broken.

 

“Why do the trees still bloom?” you ask, voice barely a ripple.

He looks up. A single blossom brushes his cheek.

“Maybe they remember,” he says, not quite to you, “what we forgot.”

 

The wind moves through the orchard.

Petals spiral around you both like snowfall in a sweeter season.

And you think:

If there is anything sacred left in the ruins,

it lives here —

in the way he looks at the sky,

in the way the trees listen.

 

𖦹 The world ended.

But spring still returns to him.

And somehow, that makes you believe it will return to you, too.

[sunflawer759]

Here's my second, it's LONG

JTTW X Celestial! Reader. Reader is the 'heir' of the Jade Emperor, basically... He tried to keep sun wukong away from heaven's future chief/emperor... To keep the bad affluence away but! The first time monkey got to see reader was from a distance during havoc in heaven, but it was for a split second... Then the Jade Emperor got annoyed at monkey cause he wouldn't inquiring about that 'person/beauty/you choose' during the original story, and reader... Well, got more curious about the 'problem' that the Jade Emperor had talked about as well as some others..! Reader is close to Erlang Shen and was trained (still is) by him, and so after... Quite the array of problems on earth, Reader asked the Jade Emperor to go, reluctantly he authorized so, Reader has said quite the arguments, but reader get accompanied by Erlang Shen, and while reader get to the problems, the gang get into their body guard and wonder why he is here? Then Tripitaka walks into Reader and while recognizing an heavenly aura on reader, both become friends really fast and when Tripitaka and Reader see monkey and Erlang Shen practically fight, Reader's presence stop Erlang Shen, monkey is trying to recognize Reader... and the others are f*king shocked? Aaaaaaaand that's when you decide what happens!

( ͡º ꒳ ͡º)

✧ When Heaven Gazes Down ✧ and chaos returns the stare with Golden Eyes

The Celestial Palace rested suspended on thick, cloud-silk, gilded by eternal mornings that never set. Lotus flowers bloomed between the steps of the main hall, and the scent of jasmine lingered like a slow song in the corridors. Inside, amidst jade-carved columns and dragons sculpted with such care they seemed to breathe, you walked — dressed in fine fabrics like a breeze.

Your hanfu, long and flowing, shimmered in amber and sky-blue hues, adorned with golden threads that wound like rivers through the sleeves and hem. The high belt, made of golden silk, firmly held the imperial seal — a pair of phoenixes in mirrored flight. Your hair, always tied in a high bun, was decorated with white jade pins and small shimmering pearls, fixed as if the sea had whispered above your head.

You were the heir to the throne. But you were not made of marble. Your eyes, large and attentive, held an unease that no thousand years of etiquette could tame.

༶⋆｡

You heard about him long before you saw him.

In the hall of decisions, while gods and ministers discussed in hushed voices, the words arose like ashes: “This reckless monkey... Wukong.” “A rebellious problem.” “A mistake to be corrected.”

But what caught your attention wasn’t the warning tone. It was the silence between the words, the embarrassed discomfort of those who spoke with anger but looked with fascination.

And then came the day of disorder. The sky in soft flames. The palace trembling under the sound of screams and shattered spears. Celestial warriors ran like swarms of light.

You saw him.

For a second.

There was no denying it: he was different from everything. Among the fallen banners and astonished guards, he appeared in spins and jumps that tore through the air like ink on silk. The dark red armor, etched with battle marks, boldly reflected the sun. The golden staff spun in his hand with impossible precision. But it was his eyes that held you: golden, wild, and joyful — as if chaos were just a new game.

You froze. And he passed.

He didn’t see you. But his world moved.

༶⋆｡

Then, the Jade Emperor called you with hardened eyes and a cold voice.

“Do not dare approach him.”

“Why not?” you asked, without raising your tone.

“Because he is… tainted.”

“Or just free.”

The silence fell between you like a stone in a lake. He didn’t argue further. But the doors began to close.

༶⋆｡

Time passed in the sky like a repeated song. You continued training with Erlang Shen — your brother in arms, your master, perhaps the only one who dared to look at you without fear of your lineage. In your training, the celestial fields were the stage: meadows where flowers never wilted, surrounded by mountains painted in blue mist.

Erlang wore dark, practical robes, gold in the details, and his eyes, always steady, seemed to weigh every step you took. But even he noticed: your mind was already far away.

“What ties you to the earth, little star?”

You smiled. “Perhaps curiosity.”

༶⋆｡

It was a minor disturbance, they say. A problem between forgotten villages. But you felt there was more. You asked — no, demanded — permission to descend. Leaning over maps of the human world, your voice was a spear: firm, controlled.

The Emperor hesitated.

And yielded.

You left with Erlang Shen. And carried the sky beneath your feet.

༶⋆｡

The Earth received you like an ancient, wild animal.

The air was dense, warm, laden with smells: wet earth, wood smoke, wild flowers along the paths. You wore a simpler hanfu now, but still celestial: dark red with aged golden details, embroidered with clouds in the fabric of the wide sleeves. A necklace with a white stone — a gift from the Celestial Empress — rested on your clavicle, glowing in the sunlight.

It was amidst the crowds, the noise of markets and temples, that you met Tripitaka.

He stopped. Looked. The calm gaze, but attentive. The kind of gaze that sees beyond the flesh.

“You… do not belong to this world.”

You tilted your head, your eyes soft. “But today I walk in it.”

He smiled. And so a friendship was born — silent, serene, like an untouched lake.

༶⋆｡

And then, he appeared.

Wukong.

Leaping from rooftop to rooftop as if the ground were lava, the staff strapped to his back. He wore a faded tunic, the red scarf around his neck weathered by time. His hair hastily tied, his feline posture. When he stopped and his eyes met yours — as golden as the harvest sun — there was silence.

Erlang Shen stepped forward. His hand already on the spear.

You spoke first.

“No.”

The tone was low, but not even the wind dared to contradict.

Wukong raised an eyebrow. His gaze passed over Erlang, over Tripitaka… and finally stopped on you.

“…Have I seen you before?”

Your answer took time. But came like a breeze: “Perhaps. Or perhaps you only dreamt of me.”

He gave a half-smile, as if unsure whether to laugh or retreat.

“You look made of the sky.”

“And you look made of the storm.”

No one understood what passed in that instant. But the air became lighter. And more tense. Tripitaka averted his eyes, as if he had read something sacred.

Erlang Shen, furrowing his brow, murmured: “This will cause trouble.”

You smiled. A small smile.

“Maybe. But some things only bloom after the thunder.”

༶⋆｡

Dawn arrived gently, spilling pink light over the willow tops lining the dirt path. The dew played on the leaves, shimmering like small crystals. You walked ahead, the dark red tunic still marked by the folds of night, the white stone necklace resting on your chest like a silent promise. Behind you, Tripitaka walked calmly, while Zhu Bajie searched for roots with a hungry gaze and Sha Wujing kept watch, the spear resting on his shoulder.

Your thoughts, however, returned to the meeting of the previous night, to the almost imperceptible touch of Wukong's gaze, and the unexpected tranquility he awakened in you.

༶⋆｡

Further ahead, the river wound between wet stones. The water flowed whispering, inviting a pause. Zhu Bajie, with a snap of his fingers, filled the wooden bowl he carried and extended it toward you.

“Here, princess of the Heavens, taste the water of the Earth,” he said, his voice heavy with soft irreverence.

You smiled, accepted the bowl with delicate fingers, and drank. The coolness slid down your throat like a caress.

“It’s different,” Tripitaka commented from behind. “There is no pomp in mortal rivers.”

You lifted your eyes to him, the serene glow in your golden eyes.

“Every river carries its own song.”

༶⋆｡

When you lifted your face, you found Wukong standing on the opposite bank, watching with his staff resting on his shoulder. The morning light wrapped him like living flame, accentuating the battle marks on his scarlet armor. His eyes, this time calm, smiled with contained challenge.

He crossed stone by stone, with silent leaps, until he reached your front. A few steps from you, he stopped. This silence wasn’t heavy, but full of expectation.

“Did you hear the river sing?” he asked, his voice low, laden with genuine curiosity.

You looked him in the eyes and then glanced at the water. “Yes. It speaks of departures and encounters.”

“And what does it say about us?”

The wind played with the fringes of your hanfu, as if it were invited to answer. You tilted your head, thoughtful.

“The river taught me that some currents flow together for a stretch, only to follow different paths later.”

Wukong slightly furrowed his brow. “And if we want to stay together, even knowing the will of Heaven?”

Your silence was the answer both of you were secretly waiting for.

Sha Wujing approached, interrupting the intimacy of the moment but not breaking the mood. He extended his dagger to catch a silver fish that was struggling in the water.

“Better hurry,” he murmured with a slight smile. “The day promises to be long.”

You and Wukong exchanged a knowing glance, as if that moment belonged only to you two, before returning to walk with the group.

༶⋆｡

Later, under the thick shade of bamboo groves, you took a brief rest. The ground was soft, dusted with old leaves. You sat on an exposed root, running your hand through the damp grass. Wukong let himself fall beside you, picking up a stick from the ground and drawing patterns in the earth.

“You always find poetry in everything” he commented, eyes fixed on the movement of the stick.

You smiled without answering, letting the breeze carry your smile through the bamboo.

༶⋆｡

As the sun touched the horizon and painted the sky orange, the group gathered around a clearing. Tripitaka extended a cloth to you, which contained fresh bread and fruit. Zhu Bajie snapped his fingers, calling sparrow chicks that came to peck at crumbs. Sha Wujing searched for twigs for the fire.

You, still lost in thought, let your gaze wander over the contours of the mountains in the distance, where clouds curled around the peaks like silent veils.

And then, Wukong spoke, his voice as soft as the crackling of twigs:

“I… thank you for letting me observe you this time.”

You turned to him, your eyes shining like distant stars.

“Observing is also a way of walking together,” you replied.

He nodded, and for a moment, the distance between you both ceased to exist — as if sky and earth were side by side, united by the same sacred road.

[sunflawer759]

Hey everyone,

I’ll be taking a short hiatus. Life has been overwhelming — between university, work, and the need to take better care of my health, I realized it’s time for a pause.

This moment is for breathing, realigning, and returning with more peace in my heart and clarity in my mind.

I’m deeply grateful to everyone who follows, supports, and understands. I’ll be back when the time feels right.

Take care of yourselves too.

With care,

~𝘟𝘪ǎ𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘯

[sunflawer759]

Smiling so cheekily like she didn't just stole the Monkey King's wife tsk tsk mischevious lil monke cub.

Babey jail for stealin his wife

[sunflawer759]

Pspspps how tall are Wukong and Suklha? I need to know for reasons...

Hellaww anonie 🌹

Tango is 130cm / 4'3

Suklha is 180cm / 5'10 (Without her antennas and heels)

She is 187cm with her Heels and Antennas

[sunflawer759]

Practicing my Arthur Morgan skills

RDR2 ending spoiler ⚠️ I warned y'all

He's napping

He coughed that

[sunflawer759]

What if reader didn’t sing for wukong and macacque anymore when the curse is lifted and they courtnapped her?

I shall direct you my friend to Ask #Eighteen where Reader does just that!

She asks for freedom in exchange for singing and the duo get a bit pouty. Enjoy!

Sorry for not responding sooner! I've been doing life stuff lately, and got a tiny bit burnt out.

[sunflawer759]

Heyy , if your still writing for sun wukong can I request the destined one x fem/gn reader where she is immortal and also was the mate of the original wukong

She's getting used to the fact that the destined is her husband but also NOT him yk , she has a habit of holding his hand , looking at him lovingly etc but with sadness also that he's not her wukong and he silently assures her it's fine and he realizes her still feels smt for her in his soul yk

@alastorhazbinz ((SORRY DARLING I TOOK SO LOOOONG!!!))

Under the bright moonlight, his eyes were glued on the starry summer sky. A fresh breeze moved his fur somewhat, a small refresh from the scorching sun of the day, while a perfume of jasmine reached his nostrils.

His eyes moved from the stars, bright in the skies like the pearls of the sea dragons, to your figure, curved over the tea that you were preparing. You never drank anything besides that blend made from that flower, he noticed once, and the curiosity had caught him once.

I thought you remembered, no?

But he couldn't, and you remembered, and that hurt you more than he wished for.

You knew him, the old sage. No, to be precise, you were his spouse, his everything. You were immortals, both of you studying under the patriarch Subodhi, disciples of Taoism and the research of immortality.

Something happened in those years under the old master's teaching; you became more than just sworn brother and sister, something that decided to bloom and curse you at the same time.

You were his wife, and, as for fulfilling his last wish, you decided to aid the Destined One, the one monkey sitting in the patio of the house right now, to become his true successor. You would never believe that something could actually start between you two, and yet why does he feel like this was more like a facade than an actual love?

You were like those stars. In the sky, shining and ephemeral, something he couldn't just admire and now grasp.

It was clear, like those stars, that you were holding on to a memory, a hope for his comeback. He did, and you did too, and it was such a painful show to view.

Sometimes you were slipping back, saying things that maybe Wukong would understand, doing things that he would have remembered, but the Destined One had nothing about those. He didn't remember because he wasn't Wukong, and those things belonged to the sage, not his successor.

Maybe that was your punishment for having decided to stay at the side of your husband, to never repudiate him or his beliefs. To be forever attached to a ghost and to be tormented by the spitting image of that same one, only to never have them both together. A torment that could have ended with a simple phrase, with just some words.

I'm not him; this thing makes both of us suffer. Let's take separate ways!

… But he couldn't. No matter how much it would look easy or for the best, he simply couldn't leave you. Was pity? To shatter your last hope?

… Or was that string to his heart, that maybe, just maybe, he felt content by just being there, hearing you talk, smelling your perfume around him, just knowing that you were there?

Was something more in there? A bond that still stayed strong, against reasons and time? He couldn't grasp it, and maybe he didn't want to.

"You look deep in your thoughts. Care to share them?"

A small cup was placed in his hand, the aroma of jasmine now stronger.

"… I was thinking…what a lovely night…"

He didn't know why you liked it so much, but from the first time he ever smelled it, he knew he couldn't get over it.

[sunflawer759]

[🪡] Cute sweaters

Small drawing about this post by @mehiwilldoitlater

Yes, absolutely yes, making custom-made jerseys for each of them, sooner or later there will be a chapter where they wear jerseys over the armor (?)

[sunflawer759]

Calgar: It is with pride that I now present you with an honor worthy of your deeds: the Laurels of Victory.

Titus: *taking the helmet*

Calgar:*holding a box too* and it seems that pur beloved Legion Mother, Lady Guilliman, had heard about you either...

Titus:....*taking out the fresh made sweater, with a small note with a hand written "welcome back Titus ^^"*...*holding back tears*

@ahrianee