#mondo’s writing

[mondothebombo]

are you still doing these perchance?? 🌹🌹🌹🌹 ‼️‼️‼️

teehee !!

yep! have another snippet of wytyaa chapter 8!!!

“Do you ever wi—“ he stops himself from finishing the word, frowning. “Ever wonder what your life would be like if you never met Wu?”

The question catches her off guard. Jay doesn’t look at her when he asks, he’s still staring off into the distance with a worn look on his face.

“What do you mean?”

Jay hesitates like he regrets even saying anything. “I-I don’t know, I just…” he sighs, “Sometimes I just think that if I had told Wu no, or my parents hadn’t let me go with him back then, things wouldn’t be so messed up right now, and I… we wouldn’t have seen the things we’ve seen, or been through all we’ve been through.”

Nya doesn’t say anything at first.

Jay… Jay has a point.

“I-I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love you guys more than anything, and I do love helping people, but,” an embarrassed flush blooms across his face and he bites the inside of his cheek, “sometimes… sometimes it just feels like my powers are a curse. I didn’t ask to be an elemental master, none of us… none of us did.”

Nya gets it. She really does.

She’s nothing short of guilty when it comes to wishing she never had powers, but at the same time… if Wu never found her and Kai, she doesn’t want to think about what could’ve happened.

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” she admits. “But you know a lot of worse things could’ve happened if we weren’t ninja. We’re all Ninjago has.”

“And I know that,” Jay says sharply. “But we didn’t ask to be. And I know that’s so incredibly selfish, so I hate that I feel that way sometimes, but I still do.”

Nya squeezes his hand again as she lets out a resigned breath. “It sucks we can’t afford to be selfish.”

“Yeah,” Jay sniffs, “it really does.”

[hatchetings]

[suddenlymicah]

i remember someone online telling a story of how their dad used to live in a pretty bad neighborhood and there was this one openly gay boy that tutored all of the gang leaders and someone started bullying the boys nd like a bunch of gangs beat him up and i cant decide whether its kubokai or ishimondo

[nvathuw]

i got ur back bro

[painedpen]

In the trenches rn (the ishimondo tag on ao3, trying to find a fic with characterization that isn’t complete and utter dog piss)

[probably-not-a-rutabaga]

ik there’s not a lot of tmnt: one off couple stuff yet,,,, BUT IDC I’M CURIOUS

[jeseniawesenia]

help, im obsessed with them

every time i listen to bad habit by steve lacy i think of Mondo so i had to make it a reality

theyre doing karaoke!! chihiro thinks he chose the song to flirt with Taka but it was rly cuz he just learned he's a Gemini from Aoi, and theres a line about it in the song LMAO

also I don't actually think his singing is ass... (maybe a little bit) n i was gonna draw more ppl from class 78 but i have work so 🤷🏽‍♀️

[chinateacup]

Hey guys so remember last year how my grandpa died and I needed money to cover travel costs? Well my gran is now on her last legs too. She took a fall this week and broke her hip. We’re estimating she won’t make it to next month.

I’m linking my fics and my Kofi here. If you’ve ever read or enjoyed my work, please consider donating.

I am so immensely grateful for the support I’ve received so far and I feel terrible having to ask more, especially given current events. Thanks.

[affluent-havoc]

More children! Sakura: She was definitely the hardest design for me to do but my gosh was it rewarding as hell. I wanted to ensure she looked strong but also cute and all. Thus, I gave her a little flower broach/pin of some sorts on her chest and a little red butterfly clip. Who knows. Maybe it's a gift that she got. Also, I did try with the muscles. I am not the best at those but I tried! Also contemplated giving her pants so she could fight better but opted for the skirt so she still has some ties to her original design. Will def draw her in a full gi sometime though. Might also give her a design with bandages on her arms too. Chihiro: I used a bit of one of Chihiro's beta designs as a base since it was giving some cute energy. Gave Chihiro some headphones too since the outfit wasn't giving the programmer energy. Not that Chihiro's base outfit gives programmer. Still though, wanted to get some of that in there. Also, I have no idea why but I'm looking at little Chihiro now and imagining them making a ton of cool as hell games on Scratch. Not cus they can't use other programs but that they're just that good. Aoi: Was both easy and hard to do for her. Her base outfit already works well for an itty bitty version and I wanted to ensure that I wasn't just drawing the characters but shrunk down. Thus, I gave Aoi longer hair. The hair at the top didn't change though since it's iconic and adds to her silhouette more. No clue how I'd reinvent that. For the colors, I will be real. I kinda just picked whatever to make it look similar but not the same as her original counter part. Thus, hoodie on the waist! Made her shoes similar though cus I felt they fit with that sorta energy of a little girl who's just throwing on some clothes before running off to do some stuff and practice her swimming. Added the acne too cus preteen. Mondo: This little biker boy. Yeah. I had the same issues I had with Aoi which was that his base design was already pretty good material for a younger revamp. However, I needed to give him more stuff to work with. Thus, purple leather coat with the sleaves ripped off! He did not do it for fashion. He probably says that he got into a really gnarly fight when he just got a bit too rowdy with a giant ass dog or something. I also gave him like, one of those twigs or like, a toothpick in his mouth. Cus why not. It looked cool and gave him more. His hair stayed the same too cus he could have gotten tips and tricks how to style it from his older brother, Daiya. Like, Mondo is kinda mirroring him in a sense cus of how much he admires him. Finally, once again with the middle schooler acne. Kiyotaka: I feel Taka has that energy of his younger selves looking like shrunk down versions of his older self. He just has that vibe to him. Thus, I just did some small adjustments for him. Have him a little star on him cus he just gives MAJOR energy of that one kid who excelled and always got like "the star of the day" or something like that. Gave him little boy shorts too cus why not! They look cute! And yes. I gave Taka the Spongebob socks. He does not know that they are the socks of the Sponge. Also, the boots stayed cus why not! Maybe he also wants to look taller cus maybe's a bit on he shorter size. Who knows! I don't! One last thing is that I gave Taka like a missing tooth/tooth gap in his bottom row. I just felt it really added to the whole design. Hope the designs are good here too! As I mentioned on Aoi's section, wanted to ensure that they weren't just a carbon copy of themselves since no one is once they get older. So, yeah. This means I will give them all some horrible fashion choses too or just stuff they could look back on and be like "ew! so tacky". Think that'd be pretty fun!

[mondothebombo]

🌹🌹🌹🌹

han!! you also get a wytyaa chapter 8 snippet, here’s a jay and lloyd bonding moment!!!

“Let’s just say I understand the touch thing. You can probably connect the dots.”

Lloyd’s face falls and he immediately hugs Jay tightly. The blue ninja hugs him back just as tight, although mindful of the younger’s injuries.

“Oh, Jay,” Lloyd finally says, releasing his brother. “I’m so sor—“

“No, stop,” Jay interrupts and he turns to face Lloyd. “That’s not why I told you. I told you so you’d understand that it’s not your fault, what Harumi did to you.”

Lloyd’s stomach twists and he looks away. “B-But I was the one who—“

“Lloyd,” Jay says sternly. “I’m only gonna say this once, so you better listen. It is no one’s fault but the person who hurt you.” Jay squeezes his eyes shut, before fixing Lloyd with a look, and Lloyd doesn’t think he’s ever seen the master of lightning so serious before. “They made their choices to do what they did. It wasn’t my fault then, and it’s not yours now. Okay? It took me awhile to believe it, but it’s true. If you never listen to another word I say ever again, please at least know that.”

Lloyd’s eyes well up with tears, but he doesn’t want to cry.

“It wasn’t your fault, Lloyd.”

[live-at-fortune-city]

ktp anthro art set the “I remembered I genuinely like these games” set

[ieatedyourcrayons]

Thank you for the Quick answer! I'll request for Mondo since its probably the easiest for you to understand by a Quick search ^^

A fluff Mondo Oowada x Fem reader (possibly a curvy introvert girl) where he manages to gain enough courage to invite her out?

They're both a bit clumsy and anxious about the whole situation being unexperienced?

Hope its not too much, Thank you and have a nice day (again) U3U

Mondo Oowada x Fem!Reader

Sorry for the late response. school and work has been on my shoulders lol. thank you for the request!

Mondo had his eye on you since he first saw you at school. Your shyness and dedication to your school work caught his eye. You kept to yourself and kept small talk to a minimum, especially with people you didn’t know.

Mondo was conflicted with his feelings for you. Your personality and skills were far from his. He was a hardcore punk and gang biker, while you were shy and closed off. He hung around a hard group of people and you hung around a small group of people.

Chihiro was your best friend. You knew everything about eachother and your nerdy interest clash perfectly.

One day while you were sitting in your reading elective class that you conveniently shared with Oowada, you caught him staring at you. You could feel the eyes burning your head.

You turned around and made eye contact with his burning eyes, just for him to look away quickly and act like he was doing work. Red plastered in both of your faces.

You tried hard to ignore the feeling of him staring at you all class. Thoughts running through your head. You never got attention like this from boys, not that you cared for it , it’s just new.

You brushed away the thoughts. He was probably just bored, he’s attractive and popular. “He probably wants some new attention” you think to yourself as your grip on your pencil gets tighter.

Oowada’s confidence slowly declined after you didn’t look back at him anymore, He was still determined to get some sort of interaction with you.

As you were walking down the hall, headed to your locker, Mondo takes his chance. He quickly walks over to you before anyone can catch your attention first.

“Oh cool, what class?” He ask you, hiding his relief. “AP calculus.” You shrug as you close your locker. “I couldn’t even pass regular calculus” He laughs.

You guys share a laugh before you turn to walk to class, Mondo trailing behind you. “So would you wanna hangout sometime? i have a wii..” He adds sheepishly, fidgeting with his knuckles.

“I haven’t played the wii in so long! do you have smash bros?” You reply excitedly as you continue walking to class.

“Of course I do? Who did you think I am?” He laughs back. He didn’t expect it to be this easy. “Okay then. Wii tonight?” You ask with a big smile on your face.

He nods, confirming your request. “Wii tonight. my place” He replies verbally. “I’ll text you my address on instagram, bye y/n.” He adds before turning and walking away.

You contain your excitement and smile as you walk into you class and set your things down. Junko eyeing your giddy expression.

“Uhm.. what happened to you?” She ask with her usual snarky tone. “Oh nothing. just something funny happened.” You reply, not giving “miss gossip” anything to go talk about.

[hey-heigo]

Chapter 23

ohhh baby we back in it now

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

byakuya pov finally

bonus headcanon coming into play here: byakuya being Wasian

shoutout @digitaldollsworld for helping me conceptualize byakuya's mom! both of us are Sick about her

Content warning tags: wall-punching, grieving/mourning, unreality (dreaming)

< previous - from start - next >

There’s a woman standing in his office.

Byakuya stands behind the cracked-open doorway, peeking through - though, part of him does rile up with the indignity of having to spy into his own office - at the intruder, standing in front of his desk, back facing the door.

He can’t see her face. But he can see her flax-yellow hair, tied back with a wrinkled, silken scarf that’s probably the most expensive thing she’s wearing. Her cotton jumpsuit is so stained and faded that hardly any of the original blue is still there. Her canvas shoes are discolored with mud.

She would look more out of place, if the shabbiness of her hadn’t seeped into her surroundings. The carpet is splattered with crusted clay, and shards of stone stick out of the plush threads like thorns. The mahogany surface of his desk is creaking and bent under the weight of a large cube of fleshy, white marble, splintering under the lacquer.

As he watches, she lifts her bare hands - ugly, roughened, thickly muscled fingers, nails cracked and filthy - like a conductor before an orchestra. She pauses, head tilted like a bird, thinking, and Byakuya inexplicably finds himself holding his breath; and then, she places her palms against the stone.

The surface of it warps and distends beneath her touch, first like a swollen balloon, and then like clay, twisting and following her hands like a swimming fish. And he watches, fascinated despite himself, as she bends and shapes it, twisting pieces off, smoothing edges down. She pinches out a piece in the middle for a nose, smoothes down a sharp edge for a sloping curve of a cheek, flicks her nail sharply beneath the brow to pull out a crease for an eyelid.

It’s magic. In seemingly no time at all, there on his desk is a bust; the head of a man brought to life, caught in a soft, gentle expression. The sculptor pauses, and steps backwards to take in her work.

There’s something reverent about it, and Byakuya suddenly has the feeling that he’s witnessing something not meant for him to see.

But he creaks the door open slightly more to get a better look, finding it strange how he was more curious than angry, even despite the intrusion. As he approaches, the bust’s eyes suddenly flick towards him, and immediately the serenity is replaced by a solemn, pinched brow, the smile replaced by a severe slash of a frown. And Byaukuya realizes he recognizes this face.

The marble-wrought head of Kijo Togami is sitting on his desk, scowling at him.

“Byakuya?”

He turns to the woman. She’s facing him now, though she has no face to speak of - it is blurred and unfocused, like a distant background character of an impressionist oil painting, the features mere shifting smears against a flat plane - but he knows her. He knows her.

“Byakuya,” She repeats, the syllables awkward on her tongue. She’s speaking French, and she sounds distant. Muted, underwater. But her voice still has the same, oddly musical quality to it that he remembers, making everything she said sound like a lullaby. “Bijou. Did I not tell you to stay out of my studio?”

Her studio?

“This is my office.” He protests back. He can’t tell if he’s speaking Japanese or not; every word feels clumsy and foreign, like he’s just learned how to talk. “What are you doing here, Mother?”

She just sighs. Shakes her head, her featureless face. There’s no anger in it, no loving exasperation either; just a neutral disapproval of his presence. His unwanted existence in her space. “Bijou,” She says again, and the nickname irritates him. A sweet-sounding endearment that was ultimately empty, a placeholder for her to refer to him by, because his own name was too clumsy to speak with her accent. “When did you become so grown? When will you stop being so cold?”

The stone Kijo Togami is still frowning at him. In this instant, both the man he calls ‘Father’ and the woman who had birthed him - one painfully-detailed stone, the other indistinct flesh - stand before him. One silent and forever displeased, the other sweet but hollow-sounding and entirely uncaring that they shared any blood at all.

“How strange it is, that you look so much like me,” She sighs, raising a hand to his face. He flinches away from it, the sandpaper sharpness of her palms, the filth that stains the creases of her skin, the heat that comes off of it like a kiln. “And yet, you are so much like him.”

—

He wakes up with a gasp, eyes snapping open.

He’s greeted with the pitch darkness of his ceiling, cut through with a thin slash of white from his bathroom light, streaming through the cracked-open door. A reminder he had taken to preparing for himself before he went to bed, that his eyes were still there, and he sighs and presses a palm to his chest as he stares up at it. Feeling his heart pounding beneath his fingertips, then slowing, in time with his breaths.

A dream. He can’t remember the last time he dreamed so vividly, but he had been subjected to some unpleasantly…shocking events the last few days (he won’t call them traumatic, he’s witnessed far worse in his life). The details of the dream are already slipping away as he tries to recall it, like sand between his fingers. It’s hardly important.

He lies in bed a moment longer, trying to see if sleep will come, but even with the adrenaline fading he’s wide-awake. Annoying, but not surprising, considering how he had spent much of the day before napping in short, fitful bursts. He pushes himself upright, reaching under his pillow for his handbook; may as well make use of the time.

The clock on his handbook reads: three AM. His neglected stomach gurgles as he squints at the dim glow of the screen, and he sighs. He hasn’t eaten since Celeste’s little tea party the day before, and he might as well go to the kitchen now. There likely wouldn’t be anyone wandering around to disturb him. And with Ishimaru gone, there was no one left to seriously uphold the nightly curfew; he drags himself out of bed with a grunt, grabbing his bathrobe off the end of his bedpost as he goes.

He’s not expecting the trap that he finds when he opens the door, however. The first step he takes past the threshold is accompanied by a loud, startling crunch, and he jumps backwards, just barely stifling a shriek. He throws his hand against the light switch, digging it into his palm as he flicks in on, and at once the yellow glow streaming from his room illuminates the something round, brown, and somewhat deflated sitting in the hallway.

For a moment, he thinks it's some kind of rodent, dead and trodden under his foot. But closer inspection reveals it to be packaged bread, only slightly crushed in its plastic wrapper. There’s no note, but he can guess who the offering is from.

He sighs, picks it up by the corner, and tosses it behind him towards his trash can as he leaves.

The hallways are dim, and almost silent if not for the dull hum of the school’s inner machinery. The whoosh of air conditioning, the muffled clang of pipes. None of the construction that Hagakure had reported days ago, not even when he strains his ears.

But he does catch the quiet murmur of conversation as he passes the bathhouse, and he pauses, staring at the light that streams from behind the curtain, the quick-flicker of shadows moving from inside.

“It wasn’t your fault!”

He freezes, standing just outside. That was Chihiro’s - no, Alter Ego’s - voice. 

“I know Master wouldn’t resent you.” It continues, earnest and bright. “And based on my data…I don’t think Kiyotaka would blame you either!”

“But it was my fault,” Mondo’s voice is strained and hollow, grieving still. “If I hadn’t left them alone - if I’d tried to just talk to him -”

Byakuya shifts slightly. He doesn’t want to be here, to have to witness Mondo’s continued breakdown. He still hasn’t forgiven the other boy, but having to see him stuck in the depths of misery was…unpleasant. And he’s not so petty to want retribution while the target of his ire was in such a state.

He tiptoes past, giving the bathhouse entrance a wide berth. From inside, he hears more indistinct voices, one low and gravelly from crying, the other electronic and gentle. And then-

“Brother, what are you looking so down for?” This one was new, but chillingly familiar. Loud and overeager and belonging to someone who was supposed to be dead. “You-”

Crash.

The sound of crunching metal. In the quiet of the hallway, it’s as loud as an explosion, and it makes Byakuya jump. Before he can reconsider, he’s sprinting into the bathhouse, throwing aside the curtain.

It takes him a moment to process what he’s seeing. Owada is standing, partly-hunched, one hand punching against the wall of lockers hard enough to warp the thin metal door. Someone is standing beneath him hands raised in self-defense - it takes Byakuya a moment to recognize that it’s Makoto, dressed in the white and dark blue of his pajamas, lacking the signature green of his jacket - and from somewhere behind Makoto, there’s a dim, neon-green glow, and a confused, worried voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-!” 

“Don’t do that,” Owada snarls, drowning out Alter Ego’s stuttered apology. The locker door rattles where his fist is pressed into it. “Don’t just- wear his face, don’t you dare-”

“M-Mondo, it didn’t mean to! It was just trying-” Makoto breaks off, apparently noticing Byakuya. “B-Byakuya-?!”

Byakuya was immediately beginning to regret his decision to involve himself in the first place. “What is going on here?” He demands, crossing his arms and glaring imperiously.

Instead of replying, Owada pulls away, withdrawing his hand and retreating to slump over on the bench, despondent and unresponsive once more. Makoto twitches, turning between Owada, then Alter Ego, and back to Byakuya. “Um…”

“It’s not their fault!” Alter Ego pipes up hurriedly, its voice echoing tinnily from inside its locker, and Byakuya could feel a corresponding vibration from the handbook tucked in his shirt pocket. “It seems Mondo wanted to ask me a question, and Makoto was just helping to convey that-”

“I don’t care.” He snaps, and Alter Ego falls silent. “Neither of them are supposed to be here in the first place, and especially not after hours. Are the two of you trying to draw Monokuma’s suspicion? Endanger Alter Ego?” Makoto flinches a bit at that. Owada doesn’t even move. “Don’t you care about getting out of here at all?”

He’s not really expecting a reply, so he’s surprised when Owada speaks up. “ ‘Course not.” He rasps, so low and hollow that it was like he was speaking from the depths of a pit. Or maybe he was the pit, swelling with black-matter misery. “I…don’t care about anything anymore.”

Well. That’s to be expected. But even despite that, he finds himself a bit rattled. He’s been at the receiving end of anger, venom, screaming anguish and even vehement hate at this point. But this emptiness Owada is exhibiting was new; It seems like this school is insistent on teaching me new things, he thinks, and feels his lip curling up with the bitter irony.

“So you’re content to waste away? Throw away that anger that you were so proud of?” He raises a scathing eyebrow. “Go ahead and do that, then. I won’t stop you. But at the very least, spare the rest of us the dramatics of your little episode.”

“Byakuya!”

He twitches a bit, irritated. Makoto’s voice is shrill despite being hushed, and laced with anger; he’s standing stiffly next to Alter Ego’s open locker, hands trembling at his sides.

“What, Makoto.” He snaps, and only belatedly realizes that this was the first time he’s actually spoken to the other boy since the trial; in his irritation, he went and broke his own self-imposed vow of silence against him.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but doesn’t immediately shrink away either at the acidity of Byakuya’s tone. If anything he stands up a little straighter. “It’s only been a day since…you know.” He says, and his words are slow and careful, meticulously chosen. Like he’s in a trial again, trying to soothe skittish tempers - though Byakuya feels the exact opposite of ‘soothed’ by it - “Mondo asked to talk to Alter Ego. I went with him. It got a little heated-”

“A little? Is that what you call this?” He points at the locker next to his head; the one that Mondo had punched, the dent a clear, dark blotch of shadow in the middle of the flat green surface.

“That -” Makoto winces slightly. “We weren’t really expecting-”

“No, clearly not. And not thinking either, I imagine.”

“I-”

“I suppose safety and logic took second priority over trying to be helpful, hm? Since that’s all that’s important to you?” He’s not sure where these words are coming from, filled with acid. But it feels good to talk, to spit out every miserable thing that he’s feeling, that he’s felt because of Makoto. “You were so very kind to help me during that trial, after all.”

“Okay, that’s not-”

“That must be why you’re here now, I imagine. Sneaking out at this late hour past Kyoko, just so you could babysit this useless mess.” He sneers. “Did you decide to make Mondo your next pet project, trying to be his little assistant like you were mine?”

“Oh, for-” Makoto takes a deep breath, presses his hands to his eyes. “Can you shut the fuck up?! For one second?”

Whatever else Byakuya was about to say, dissipates like smoke out of his slack-jawed mouth. Even Owada seems to twitch up at this, the only sign of surprise he could give, compared to Byakuya’s shock.

Makoto is quiet for a few seconds, and the only sound is the quiet hum of pipes, and the sound of his breathing, shaky but slow. He pulls his hands away from his face after one more shuddering breath. “Okay. I’m okay now.” He says this part quietly, as if it were more for himself than anyone else. Then:

“It’s not fair,” He addresses Byakuya, and his voice is almost steady. “I’m trying my best, I’m trying to keep us all alive.”

“Yes, and you’re doing-”

“No! Shut up! Just listen!” He snaps, and Byakuya’s teeth click as he shuts his mouth, effectively cutting off the rest of his sarcastic remark. “Right now, the best thing we can do is to survive together. We’re just going to play into the mastermind’s hands if we can’t trust each other. Why doesn’t anyone get that?!”

His voice actually cracks on the last syllable, and he sounds close to hysterics. Byakuya simply stares, dumbfounded for a moment, before:

“...You’re going to say that? After what just happened?” It’s so ridiculous he could almost laugh. Trust? In this school, in this game? After everything that’s happened? “We all trusted Ishimaru. Where did that get us? Where did that get Chihiro?”

No sooner has that name left his mouth, does he try to bite it back. Feeling all at once mortified that he would stoop so low, that he would let himself be pushed to such a level. But it’s too late to take it back - at the sound of those names, Owada jerks again, and Makoto actually takes a step backwards, as if struck - so Byakuya keeps going. “This isn’t some-some fairy tale where everyone can learn to get along by talking about our feelings. None of us have any unity left - if even Ishimaru can snap, then there’s no telling who might strike next.”

“Stop,” Makoto grits out. “Taka - it was an accident. Just a stupid accident.” And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? That none of this was supposed to happen at all; if the coincidences hadn’t lined up terribly, horribly perfectly. “He didn’t mean for Chihiro to die!”

And Chihiro didn’t mean to get killed either. But he manages to swallow that thought, bitter and heavy in his throat. “His intentions didn’t change the outcome.” He says instead, cold and flat and utterly, completely empty.

Silence falls on the room. The lights buzz, the pipes hiss; the old, outdated screen of Alter Ego’s computer hums softly, contemplatively. There’s the muted, metallic thump of the water heater, somewhere inside the wall.

And then Owada speaks up.

“What should I do?” He asks hollowly. He’s looking up now, directly at him. His hair is limp, pompadour undone and falling over his face, obscuring it in streaks of dirty yellow. “I…they’re dead. I couldn’t-” He takes a slow, shuddering breath. “It was my fault. But I don’t know what to do.”

His words are pleading and genuine, as if Byakuya could give a proper answer; he hesitates, still uncertain of what to do with this…empty shell of a punk.

He glances towards Makoto, and then the dim green glow still emanating from the open locker. “Do you care what you do with your life at this point?”

“Byakuya…” Makoto starts warningly, but Owada interrupts him.

“No.”

“Then use it to protect Alter Ego.” If Owada has any sort of misgivings or protest about this, Byakuya ignores them. “That’s Chihiro’s last work, after all. It’s the least you can do to guard it.”

“Is…” Owada’s head turns towards the locker, then back. “Is that…okay?”

His hesitation is understandable. Even if Alter Ego was nothing more than a clever program, it did still wear the face of the boy who Owada’s friend inadvertently killed, and whose corpse Owada had tried to conceal. And that wasn’t even considering if Alter Ego would be cooperative in being protected by him, though there wasn’t much it could do about it.

But Alter Ego is the one who speaks up. “I hope we get along well, Mondo!” It chirps, a smile clear on its voice. And Mondo simply stares for a moment, before burying his face in his palms, and begins to cry.

__

“Are you going back to your room?”

He stops, and turns. They’ve left the bathhouse, Mondo departing first after sobbing his eyes out, and Makoto insisting he go rest in his room - though he probably would’ve ended up staying in the bathhouse all night if he could’ve gotten away with it - and Byakuya, having ended up spending an hour more than he wanted to dealing with it all, is tired once more..

“Where else would I be going?” He scoffs. Makoto is standing just in front of the bahthouse curtains, his face entirely concealed by shadow.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “I noticed you didn’t really…eat a proper meal yesterday. I could go make you something?”

It’s tempting, for a moment. Byakuya clenches a hand in his robe, pressed against his stomach to stifle any unwarranted growls. “No.” He says firmly. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Oh…are you sure? Because-”

“Makoto.” He falls silent. “I told you that there’s no need for us to uphold the deal we made. Your assistance is no longer needed.”

“...But, this isn’t because of the deal, I just-”

“I’m not so low that I’d need charity from you.”

He goes quiet again. Quiet and still, and there’s something off-putting about how he looks. Outlined by the yellow lights of the bathhouse but otherwise completely in darkness, his silhouette sharpened without his jacket. “...Is it really that hard, trusting someone?”

For as angry as he’d been in the bathhouse, now he’s more like his usual self. Quieter, and unsure. The one person out of place in this school, designated unremarkable and then made remarkable because of that.

An unremarkable life. No wonder he couldn’t understand.

“You’ve never had to worry about it before,” He says. “I imagine your life is like a sheep’s. Completely oblivious to the danger around you, as long as you stay inside the fence.

“But the world isn’t as kind as you think it is. And people can always be swayed, no matter how much you trust them, or how much you think they trust you.” He’s seen it happen. He’s exploited it himself, even. “At this point, it would be safest to stop associating with anyone. If you had any brains at all, you would do the same.”

Makoto lets out a sigh that’s almost a laugh, though it’s bitter and mirthless. “Kyoko said the same thing,” He mutters, half to himself. “So you won’t feel safe unless you’re alone? Even though there’s only ten of us left?” He shakes his head, and the motion is a little dizzying, the messy shape of his hair blurring into a dark mass. “How many more people need to die for you to feel safe?”

He sounds angry again, but it’s a colder kind of anger. Resentful and resigned. When did you become so cold?

“...I won’t be safe until I’m out of here.” Byakuya replies steadily, though the hand clenched in his robe tightens slightly. “Even if I could keep everyone in my sight, it’s not like it’d be easy to tell if they were holding a weapon.”

Silently, he adds: And thanks to you, they know that as well.

Makoto doesn’t say anything in reply, so Byakuya leaves. Quickly, in case his stomach threatens to grumble again; his hand doesn’t leave his robe until he’s safely inside his room, door locked behind him.

He almost treads on the bread again, stepping on a corner of the packaging and jumping at the sharp, crinkling sound. It takes a little bit of fumbling in the dark until he finds it, squeezing it through the plastic.

He’s tempted, for a moment, his fingers already searching for the serrated edge to tear it open. But the image of Makoto standing at the bathhouse entrance jumps to his mind; still and shrouded in darkness. A strange, statuesque parody of his usual self.

He throws the bread across the room and climbs back into bed.

< previous - from start - next >

[nite-puff]

more young mondo n michi because them being childhood friends is so important to me.

bonus little ref thingy:

[morangoowada]

DND AU INFO POST

Intro:

This AU features Kiyotaka, Mondo, Leon, Chihiro and Yasuhiro, the main party on an adventure together as a group. They are investigating a certain mistery revolving around their land, where multiple people are disappearing without a single trace. During their investigation they encounter a lot of different individuals and obstacles.

(And as the title of the au says, it has a Dungeons and Dragons setting.)

Character sheets:

Some boundaries and disclaimers:

Fanarts are completely okay, I would love seeing all your takes on the designs, if you ever make any please tag me.

I know people have different takes on different characters, but if you're gonna draw any of my designs, PLEASE don't whitewash the characters. Taking my designs and just whitewashing them is completely unacceptable. (This applies to any AU I ever make, please be decent)

I have no issue with people making ship content of the characters, just be careful because there are some canon relationships in there.

Asks about my Au are completely fine, so if you ever have any questions or just wanna say something about it, please send them to me

Now... Here is the fanfic. Please be patient with me this is like my first fic ever..

@dnd-au-archives The archive blog!!

(This post will probably be updated in the future)

[painedpen]

Hiiii <33 how's your day going?? I hope good :)

I saw that you wanted People to request, so here's my idea:

A fluff Mondo Owada x fem!Reader (If possible her Appearance being shy, short and a bit chubby) where he wants to approach her more but she instead distances herself from him NOT because she doesn't like him back but because she also finds him intimidating :,)

He would be desperated to ask for advices to his brother or close classmates(??)

Write what you think would be cute ^^

Just in time for his birthday!! Thanks so much for the request, anon!

—

Request: Mondo Owada x Shy!Chubby!Reader

Warnings: Discussions of weight/insecurity about weight. Mentions of teasing/bullying.

Genre: Fluff!

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The first time he looked at you, Mondo thought you were adorable.

It took him forever to even approach you, cause he’s pretty shy himself.

When he finally did, he messed up pretty much immediately.

The poor man can’t control his volume when he’s nervous, so he ended shouting his confession at you.

You jumped, and made a frightened, squeaking noise that just broke Mondo’s heart.

He all but ran away once he realized he’s scared you.

He immediately ran to Daiya and Takemichi for advice. Their advice was quite simple: “Don’t yell at her, you fucking disaster of a human.”

So he approached you again a few days later, this time focused on his volume.

He ended up over correcting, as his words came out as incoherent mumbles that you couldn’t understand.

You picked up a few words, such as “sorry… yellin’… didn’ mean ta… like…”, so you were able to get the gist of what he was saying.

You told him— in a very quiet, shaking voice— that it was okay, and that you forgave him.

Then it was your turn to run away.

This dance went on and on until eventually Kiyotaka stepped in, beyond frustrated with Mondo’s constant moping.

He told you very plainly that Mondo thought you were cute, and was just really bad at talking to people.

In spite of your blushing and stuttering, you could relate to him in that regard. You’d always been incredibly shy and insecure, so you suddenly found Mondo’s fumbles… really cute.

You gathered up all your courage, and approached Mondo yourself.

You were barely able to get the words out, but you told Mondo that you felt the same way.

Mondo could have died on the spot.

He just thought you were so beautiful, especially when your face was tinted that dusty pink color.

He ended up not saying a word, because he really didn’t wanna yell at you again. He just nodded, and gave you a nervous, wobbly smile that melted your heart.

And thus marked the beginning of the world’s best relationship.

Mondo is nothing if not a gentleman. Growing up, his brother taught him everything about how to treat a woman.

“Real men treat their gals right. If I find out yer treatin’ future girlfriend as anythin’ less than a princess, I’ll beat yer ass.” — Daiya Owada

His main love language is physical affection, but he’s too nervous at the beginning to initiate that, so he settles on spoiling you instead.

He just loves making stuff for you. Jewelry, food, a cool chair, you name it and it’s yours.

A little roadblock here is that you have no idea how to accept gifts, so kinda just hands things to you and then runs away before you can start with your “oh, I couldn’t take this! You worked so hard on it!” spiel.

Later in the relationship, when he’s more confident, you can’t pry him off you.

He just loves to hold you so much! He adores how soft and fragile you seem, he can’t help but keep his arms around you at all times.

If you’re insecure about your weight or your appearance, he’s going to be absolutely scandalized.

How could you possibly think you were anything less than perfect? You were clearly the most gorgeous girl in the world! He’d have to put a stop to that thinking.

He’d hug you so tight, and tell you very seriously to never think of yourself that way again. That if you’re ever feeling lesser, to come to him, and he’d throw those thoughts out the door.

And if anyone dared to tease you about it? Oh, he’d go batshit.

He doesn’t like to get violent around you, especially knowing how easily frightened you are, but he would simply have to commit a crime.

He introduces you to the Crazy Diamonds, and they all adore you.

They take a solemn vow to protect you for the sake of their boss, who has never gotten a girl to date him before.

The two of you are flustered disasters around each other, but it never stops you from letting each other know how much you love them<3

—