#wukong lego monkie kid

[metathemeta-art]

another print done!! tumblr is exploding my computer for some reason but here they are

[aniflowers]

MonkieTober 2: Wukong

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This drawing fuvking ATE my paper becouse I erased so much to get the pose right! XD Inking this later will be an absolute pain! I'll have to be extra carefull to make sure the color doesn't bleed to much.

[filamero]

You’re Okay, You’re Alright

[ title originates from 'Rider's Lullaby' from Centaurworld! ] Word Count: 1419 Genre / Warning : Angst, Hurt/Comfort — Trigger / content warnings for: blood, non-explicit unintentional but somehow simultaneously intentional self-harm, something akin to a panic attack, themes of derealization for a bit, and overall, mentally distressed MK Summary: There are types of hurt that you don't keep bottled up, no matter how much of a burden it makes you feel. MK still has yet to learn this lesson, and his reluctance to do so manifests itself into something he can't manage alone. — In which MK has a rough time late at night, and Wukong is (finally) the one there for him. [ao3 link! : https://archiveofourown.org/works/38866356 ] (fix below the cut :D)

MK is bleeding. The shattered glass of the mirror is piled within the sink and scattered across the floor. His eyes are trained on where the mirror used to be situated, afraid that she would appear should he even dare look in his reflection again. His ears ring, as if searching for the voices that filled them just weeks ago, his consciousness powerless against the thousands of others.  She’s here, he can almost make out over the thud of his heartbeat in his ears.  She’s here for you. He doesn’t know how he managed to break the mirror. He doesn’t know if anyone heard that. He doesn’t even know if he’s even breathing.

Breathe. Come on. Breathe. Why won’t his body breathe? Breathe. Come on. Breathe—

“—K? MK, bud, I’m here.”

His eyes obey the sound before anything else, darting to the source. He is met with golden pools of amber, concern etched in every crevice of Wukong’s eyes. “MK,” he repeats softly, in a tone that he is unfamiliar with hearing from him. “Come on, breathe with me.”

Faintly, he begin to register a rhythmic tapping against his arm, watching his chest rise, still, and fall in time with the tempo. Slowly, he closes his eyes, trying his best to follow along.

Breathe. Come on.  Breathe.

Eyes still shut, he feels him shift and hears the distant noise of one of the cabinets being opened. There’s a soft clatter of plastic against the tiled flooring, and his hand is pulled away from his body.

“You’re doing great, bud,” he reassures beyond the abyss of his eyelids, echoing around the chamber of his mind. “You’re okay. I’m here.” He hears the sink turn on, the rush of water a welcome ambiance to fill the silence. “I’m going to clean your hands now. You can keep your eyes closed if you want.”

Hesitantly, he opens his eyes.

Though Wukong’s focused on his hands, MK can clearly tell he’s worried, and it makes something ugly rear in the depths of his chest. His eyes flicker up for a moment, meeting his gaze. “Mirrors, huh?” he jokes softly, though his smile doesn’t turn up just as high as it typically does. “I never really liked them either, don’t worry.”

The mention of the mirror makes MK’s heart plummet into his stomach, muscles tensing. “She was- She was in it,” he blurts out, voice hoarse and wavering with the threat of tears. “The mirror. I saw- I saw her. She was there, she was in it—“

“MK.” There is a hand cupping his face, and he keels to the touch. His eyes meet Wukong’s once again, clinging to every ounce of comfort he is willing to offer to them. “She can’t get you here.” There’s something he can’t quite name simmering beneath his tone, but all he wants to focus on now is the reassurance. “She won’t get you here. I swear, she will never come near you again.”

His voice is steady, a tether to his mind. He sounds sure of himself, as he always does, and for the first time in a long while, his trust in him outweighs his doubts. He is still as he cleans and bandages his bloody knuckles and scratched skin, constantly talking to keep the silence from taking over. He is thankful, he is so, so thankful. Soon enough, his wounds are properly cared for, and Wukong looks up.

MK isn’t sure he’ve ever seen his face drop so quickly. Instinctively, he yanks his hands back, covering up his own face. That’s when his fingertips brush up against damp skin, tears greeting his fingers as they trickle down.

Oh.  Oh.

When had he started crying?

“Oh, Bud,” he murmurs, just loud enough to hear. He is almost convinced it’s not him; he’s never heard him sound as pained and dejected. For a moment—one mere, little moment—his panic flares back up, convinced that this must’ve been some cruel illusion that she made to toy with him. He takes a step back, eyes darting left and right to find some fault in the illusion and snap himself out of it. “MK?”

“You’re- You’re not real.”

Wukong’s face shatters more. “MK—“

“You- You don’t- You don’t sound like Monkey King—“

He reaches out for them. “Breathe—“

“I need- I need to get out of here—“

He is slower and weaker than him, and his arms wrap around them before he can even blink. His muscles tense, hands poised on his torso to shove him off. “No- No, stop it,” he begs, eyes welling with tears. “You’re not real, you’re not real—“

“MK,” he mutters, and there it is. There is that tone again, the one so soft, and concerned, and sorrowful that he is sure this can’t be Wukong. “I am real. I promise you, I am real.”

A lump forms in his throat, his resolve crumbling the longer he is held. “You are?” he asks, and his voice is softer than he intended. Much, much weaker too, wavering with the threat of more tears.

“I am,” he responds, holding him carefully as if he would shatter should his grip get too tight. He pulls away enough to look him in the eye, and for a moment, he expects them to flicker between gold and blue, waiting for a sickeningly amused smile to spread across his face. But that moment never comes, and his hands stay firm on his shoulders with no intentions of hurting him. “I’m sorry. I should’ve- I should’ve been here for you. When she was here,” he admits, and MK’s muscles slowly allow himself to relax. “You, just- Just look at you. I should’ve been here, I’m so sorry.”

Though he is still hesitant, for the second time in a long while, his trust in him outweighs the doubts in his mind. “You’re here now, right?” he says softly, trying his best to plaster on a smile.

Wukong doesn’t return the gesture, simply pulling him back into a hug. “Don’t do that,” he scolds gently, moving a hand to the back of his head and weaving itself into his hair. “Don’t act like I’m not part of the reason you’re like this. I hurt you, Bud, I did.”

There’s a pause, a stilted moment in the midst of apologies and comfort.

And then, the dam breaks, MK’s resolve crumbling as he finally return the hug. “You did,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. His hands curl around the fabric of his clothes, tears beginning to spill freely from his eyes. “It- It hurt when you left us- when you left me,” he continues. His breath begins to shorten, the months of hurt upon hurt toppling down from the neat pile he tried to force it away as. “And then, you- you didn’t tell us anything, it felt like you were just gone, that you weren’t thinking of me, and I didn’t matter to you anymore—“

He cuts himself off with a sob, pressing his lips to stop the sound midway. His efforts are in vain, another pained noise rearing itself up from the back of his throat, forcing its way past his lips. They come almost as frequently as his tears, and it makes him feel small. His breathing doesn’t come easily, legs giving in.

Wukong is careful not to let MK fall, sinking down to the floor and pulling him closer. He is wordless as he sobs, rubbing circles into his back as he lets the moment carry itself out. He cries and he cries, until his eyes feel dried out and his chest hurts—and all the while, never once letting go of Wukong out of the fear he would leave the instant that he does. He combs his fingers through his hair, his tail wrapped protectively around the two of them.

“I’m sorry,” Wukong repeats, once MK's breathing evens out and his sobs reduce into mere hiccups. “I’m so sorry.”

He burrows into the comfort he offers, reveling in the feeling of being held after so many months of running and fighting. “I’ll forgive you,” he responds, and before Wukong can say anything more, he adds on, “Not yet. But- But in time.”

There’s a huff of air, a sound teetering on the line of almost-laughs. “I’ve got all the time in the world, Bud.”

MK smiles, eyes slowly fluttering shut as he lets the promise of rest lull them to sleep. “Yeah. You do.”

And he is okay.

[thelostmoongazer]

Undivided attention

[brick-rolled]

drew the favs ^^ 🪷 GRGRGRGRGRRRRRR THEYVE INFESTED MY BRAINNN

[munkiey]

[swagginmun]

Still have not gotten over this

[runningwithscizzorz]

I watched Monsters Inc and nearly openly wept at this scene so I had to draw it, the next one will be more funny I promise (nezha pulling a Mike Wasowski)

Two commissions I finished for @/cloudhead and @/mochBN

[smallpwbbles]

I just need SWK and Pigsy to start having a custody battle on screen while MK is literally going ape kaiju shit in the background, also bonus doots:

[burrotello]

Legos except they’re not actually legos anymore

[oh-gh0st]

i heart these rivals so much. maybe they'll kill each other. maybe they'll kiss. maybe they'll make ou

[chocolattekinq]

Still waters run deep…

——————————————————

I headcanon that it wasn’t death that made Macaque a scheming savage and a dirty player, he was always like that. But back in the days of the Brotherhood he was more shy and timid, which, combined with adoration of Wukong and (at the time) small figure, made him look rather harmless and sometimes naive.

But, sometimes, his true nature did shine through

Also first time drawing anyone from the brotherhood except gay monkeys

[muffinsouffle]

Choose your team!

And Happy Easter, everyone! And have a great day 💖

[ami-lol]

Sweet times~

[cafi-catfish]

[brick-rolled]

more lego monkies RAHHHGRGGGRGRRRR