This is a little head cannon/What if Macaque had more original powers, a little more Starry Night dreamlike powers leaning into the more nurturing kind, you know, the moon and sun kind of powers? 🌙☀️
Maybe in the past, he was like a therapy friend to Wukong, someone he could really be himself with, vent, and tell his secrets without being judged in the safety of his own dreams. Someone he can truly trust, and that was Macaque.
Skip to Redemption Ark for Mac
Now he's a therapy friend to the whole MK team! (Against his will) They cuddle, pet, and vent to him with their problems. He's like one of Sandy's therapy cats, just bigger and grumpier.😾💕✨ he just has this way with people I guess
Okay, this is how it starts: Macaque and Wukong's first encounter was in a dream.
Wukong would not shut up about the pretty demon in his crazy dreams, often to his sworn brothers; he talked about all the fun and crazy adventures he'd have, the long meaningful conversations and jokes, and the occasionally moving pictures of otherworldly strong magical humans with sparkly eyes and spiky hair who wield giant weapons that shoots Fire called anime, and that this had been going on for a few months now.
This annoyed and concerned them; they think it's a demon trying to take over the Monkey King's mind or trying to brainwash him somehow, so Azure Lion and the Sworn Brothers all brainstormed together to devise a plan to somehow confront this tricky dream demon. Wukong doesn't want the fun dreams to end or scare off this other celestial monkey, so he decides to talk to his friend in his dreams. Wukong casually brings up the idea that the macaque should visit Flower Fruit and meet his sworn brothers! Macaque of course hesitates, not sure of the idea of traveling to an unknown island and meeting The Monkey King's questionable choice of sworn brothers, but of course, Wukong, sad and a bit offended, but he doesn't give up.
He decides to bring upon the Ultimate Weapon, begging and whining until Macaque crumbles and gives in, which eventually does. Mac reluctantly agrees to travel over to FFM in disguise, just to be safe he tells Wukong he'll be there. Within a month, Wukong couldn't be more excited; he was like a little kid waiting for Christmas day!
So this is what kinds of powers I think he should have.
😴 the first pic is crossing over to other people's dreams and making their experience life-like he has illusion magic so this makes sense to me. Wukong and macaque would prank the Brotherhood or play tags and hide and seek in their brother's dreams. 🌸The second pic is the soothing ability to calm one's nerves if they pet or cuddle him like a therapy cat,🐈 Wukong would groom him for hours to calm his nerves. now come copes with food🍑🍔🍭
🌸🎶I saved the best one for last the cute/sad little head Cannon I have
At the end of every dream Mac visits they would end it by dancing to music Mac would bring from the future laughing and stumbling while wukong slowly wakes up, wukong has always gone to bed early But now he goes even earlier to bed. Wukong always thought he was the luckiest monkey in the world he gets to have two Adventure and one of them is with his prettiest best friend Macaque 😚✨the monkey of his dreams.
🌸 Wukong couldn't truly dream of a world without his bestest friend🥰✨
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in the aftermath of haven, thea asks cullen if he believes she's chosen
“Haven could have been much worse, Lady Herald,” he said. “Don’t discount your efforts. They made all the difference.”
She turned to frown at him, and he allow himself to study her face in the golden light and black shadow. Her wounds were healed for the most part. The scrapes across her face and the gash at her temple had scabbed over to shiny pink skin, and the bruises had faded to a faint green tinges down her jaw and over her brow.
“It was bad enough.” She turned back towards the fire, and only then did he realize how intently he had been staring at her. He gently cleared his throat and watched the flames with her as she continued. “He came for me, and people died for it. Now I can’t even get us out of the wilderness. It’s been three weeks, and not a stronghold in sight.”
It might have had the air of a joke, had her voice not broken around the words. “No one expects you to have all the answers,” he said, “but you’re doing a fine job of it regardless.”
“I think they expect the Maker to whisper the answers in my ear.”
He chuckled softly. “That may be true.”
The fire crackled in the silent moments before she asked him, “Do you believe I’m chosen?”
The question surprised him, though he supposed it shouldn’t have. She must have contemplated such things often. He thought again of the ease with which they had closed the Breach at the temple, without a single mage falling to the will of the Fade. Was it the Maker’s protection, or had the mages drawn on constitution from the Herald herself? It may have been one in the same. If there were anyone to say so with any authority, it was certainly not him.
The truth of her divinity was not a question to which he needed an answer. He had grown quite tired of dealing in absolutes.
“Does it matter what I think?” he asked her.
She snorted again. “That’s a no.”
He waited for her to face him. When she did—when he was able to look her in the eye—he told her the truth. “I believe you will deliver us, and I will serve you until you do. And after still. Should you have any need of me.”
She swallowed, and her gaze flickered away. “I hope I deserve that.”
He sighed, impatience laced through the breath. “Think of those you saved.” He saw her, in his mind, with her bow at her side and blood matted in her hair. She stood in the center of the village chantry, where the flaming sun carved into the doors behind her encased her in a burning halo. Her bright eyes were all fire, face set in steely determination as she looked at him.
But when her hand joined his atop her shoulder, he felt it tremble. The memory came to him unbidden, and he was once again struck by the gravity of the decision she had made. “You stayed behind. You could have—”
Died. He remembered her collapsed in the snow, her hair cast around her, a shrouded black crown in place of the blazing Chantry sun. His chest had run cold when he saw the gaping wound at her temple, but when he held her against his chestplate, he caught sight of the pulse that vibrated along her neck. The dark column of her throat was exposed over his arm as he carried her back to camp, and a deep red trail of blood and matted hair covered the lines of her tattoo.
“I didn’t.” Her voice was steady, but a muscle jumped in her jaw.
“I will not allow the events of Haven to happen again.” He laid his palm against her, his fingers curling around her shoulder. She rolled her head to face him again, and her chin brushed the top of his glove. He wondered if she could feel the tremors that plagued him, just as he had felt her shaking fear in the chantry.
He would have to tell her eventually, but not tonight.
He squeezed her shoulder to steady his arm, to convince her that he was a man whose promises meant something. To convince himself. “Thea, you have my word.”
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