#valtroix

[rubindraws]

Hello! I am currently busy spending the holidays with my relatives, but I do have something to post today! o vo)/ !! This is the gift I got to make for @valtroix for this year’s secret santa ( @danganronpasantas) ! I hope your holidays are warm and comfy and full of super gifts!

[stellacity-blog]

Yes hello, it is me and I'm back at it again. I'd like to reserve Peko Pekoyama from Danganronpa. Today's date is September 18th! ^^ OOC contact info is this account.

I am feeling... hopeful. I mean, hungry. Actually, don’t listen to me at all. The lovely lady with the sword is reserved for you until September 26th!

♈ aries

[stellacity-blog]

Alright! ^^ Sending in a reserve for Makoto Naegi from the Danganronpa series! The date is 09/13 and my OOC contact is this Tumblr account, valtroix.

One good boy, comin’ right up!

They’re reserved for you until September 20th!

♎ libra

[nefariouslottery-blog]

skyfall

@valtroix

One moment he’s in the sky- wings spread wide and wind flowing around him. A courier job like this one is nothing special. Even if the documents are confidential- important- he doesn’t really care. It’s his job to deliver them safely and that’s it. Usually he doesn’t have trouble on his runs. No one stops him. No one tries to prevent him from going anywhere- at least not with any sort of force. Perhaps he’s been lucky in the past.

Because he certainly isn’t this time.

Arrows are extraordinarily painful. Maybe his kind are just thin-skinned, bones brittle. He doesn’t deal well with the sudden searing feeling- the trickle of blood. His mind reels with it- wings fluttering back with another hit. He doesn’t even register the number of arrows. By the time there’s a third he’s already lost most of his ability to think. He’s spiraling down- down down and suddenly he’s on the ground. He can hear the snapping sound- feel the pain associated with it. 

But he barely stays around long enough for it to matter. It’s excruciating- horrible, but it only lasts for a moment. He’s breathing hard- clawing the ground- his clothing as he struggles to pull himself from the ever encroaching darkness. He doesn’t escape it, though. Doesn’t manage to pull himself away quickly enough.

And things are black in a matter of moments.

His vision starts to blur in, but he’s groggy. It isn’t until the pain hits that he starts to recall what happened- to flash into how he’s feeling and fill the holes in. His mind reels yet again as he tries to jolt upward- wing screeching at him with the motion. He yelps- curling in on himself for a moment. He lets out shaky breaths- body following along with the action. He manages to crack his eye open- nerves gnawing at him with his pain. One eye is still black- visionless. He blinks, but only gets a jolt of pain from the dark eye in response.

It’s now he finally manages to pull himself to look around the room. A stranger’s place- nowhere he’s been before. He assumed those that shot him would kill him, but instead he’s here... His open eye widens has he looks around- breathing still far to quick. His head is hurting- everything is. What is this? Why is he here? Was he brought here? It doesn’t seem right for the people who shot him down. It seems a bit odd that he would be brought here... He had assumed he would just die. Why... Isn’t he just dead?

He chokes on his own voice for a moment. His vision is still not fully stable, but he won’t let it stop him. He starts to try to move- tries to force himself to do something but that wing is still sending jolts through his body. It stings at the slightest move. He recalls the crack and his eye widens yet again. It’s broken. It has to be. He winces at that and moves a hand to rest against his face.

And then the worst part hits him. 

His mask is gone. He shivers- grips at his clothing as his breath catches in his throat. Where is it? Where did it go? He needs it, now. If he’s seen it will be catastrophic. His broken wing, his eye, the throbbing pains in body, none of that matters. Without his mask he runs a high chance of facing excommunication- dishonor. He can feel a cold sweat breaking out. Pain and fear are mixing into some nasty concoction.

It’s then he finally sees the figure in the corner of his eyes. His mind doesn’t process exactly what that means and he jerks his head to the side. He stares at the stranger head on- eyes wide as he does. His claws dig into the sheets-  breathing picking up yet again into it’s far too quick pace. He bares his teeth- eyes almost starting to water. It hits him then and only then. It’s too late. He’s been seen.

He drops his head- covers his eyes with one hand as he tries to stop the feeling that’s hitting him. It’s over isn’t it? He’s ruined everything with his own foolish actions. What should he even do? What can he do? He removes his hand- feathers standing up slightly more as he glares.

“Where is it?!” He snaps the words in a strained voice. There’s no greeting- no thank you for the help or saving his life. “Where is my mask!? Why did you take it from me?!”

[nefariouslottery-blog]

trip up

@valtroix

He’s good at making mistakes. That is a fact that has followed him his whole life- chased him like a persistent dog on the hunt. He doesn’t mind it. As far as he’s concerned, he probably deserves it. The mistakes are a part of what makes him such a failure- a mess. He doesn’t think there’s something any more wrong with that then the rest of him, honestly. He’s, in his own, a mistake. He’s really only existing out of apathy or laziness. Something like that.

But he doesn’t want to think of this as a mistake. Show isn’t a mistake. He tells himself that often enough that it’s deeply ingrained in his mind. When the older man insisted on some sort of trip to celebration Zitao’s birthday, it was almost difficult for Tao to understand why. He hasn’t celebrated his birthday in years. He doesn’t think of it as hardly anything important. Who would want to celebrate his birth? Certainly not him. He doesn’t have any reason to celebrate his existence. But being with Show? He... can’t deny that he’s happy about. If Show deems him somehow important enough to celebrate, he can’t bring himself to say no. So he agreed- plainly enough. 

And now he’s here, which... might be a bit more of a mistake. It’s later in the day at the hotel and that means there are less people at the pool. Of course, that doesn’t make him feel that much better about the water, but it’s alright. He’s not swimming. He’s actually quite a ways away from the water- sitting calmly with a book in hand. He can’t remember when he took up reading. Maybe it was those awful vampire novels he picked up first. Really, he was just reading them to see how inaccurate they were in reference to Show, but it’s been an interesting little journey none the less. Maybe Zitao just has a thing for trashy romance novels. The protagonists, he finds, are usually annoying or barely there. Both of these things he thinks are semi-amusing.

Sometimes he admittedly has to skip certain parts of the books, though. The details get a bit much for him and he finds himself skip pages ahead. Really he just... doesn’t want to read about the girls, but carrying around homoerotic novels seems... Like a horrible plan. So he sticks with what he’s got. They amuse him none the less.

He looks up over the book for a moment- making sure that Show isn’t... drowning or something. Not that he logically should be, but Tao’s fear of water does extend to the irrational level quiet commonly. He looks up just at the wrong time, though. At first, he just smiles at Show ever so slightly, but then he notices what appears to be a small crowd headed toward the pool. University students he would guess from the obnoxious noise as well as the overly touchy couples. His smile drops just a little and he finds himself shuffling back in his seat ever so slightly. He casts another glance to Show- meeting his eyes. He’s sure that the vampire won’t be pleased with the crowd either. Not that Tao hates other people- generally he doesn’t care. He’s used to bars and clubs- places where shady men like to hold shady meetings for shady reasons. He can’t really be bother by party-goers in that case. He’d have a hard time with business if he did.

But Show likes peace and quiet. Tao likes peace and quiet when he’s with Show. It’s a pretty simple thing, really. The crowd funnels in and instantly Tao is catching a few words here and there. It’s not hard to tell that some of these people- these kids- are drunk. It’s a tad early for that, but Tao isn’t going to judge. At least, not outwardly. Inwardly he makes a note that they’re stupid and that efforts to talk to them to quiet them down would likely be worthless. He looks to Show again before retreating into his book. He’d really rather not have to deal with this, but Show can decide exactly when they’ll leave.

That is... until he notices a shift in some of the crowd’s discussions.

Suddenly he has become a topic of interest, and as such he listens a bit more closely. At first it’s just sidelong comments in what they clearly think are hushed voices, but it turns quickly to more blatant commentary. He’s not sure what they would want from him at first, but their words make it clear what they think. He finds himself curling in on himself. His body shakes just a little.

“What the hell happened to that guy?”

It’s his scars- all of them. He never thinks much of them because others don’t usually see them well. The ones on his arms are shown from time to time, but the rest of his body is usually hidden under clothing. He often forgets that his chest and back are completely littered with the proof of what he’s been through. The strangers clearly think something is wrong with him. They continue to sneer.

“God he’s hideous. It’s awfully weird for such a pretty guy to be all fucked up like that”

“Why would he even take his shirt off if he looks like that? I’d be hiding.”

“Do you think he’s in some kind of gang? He’s got those weird burns.”

“Shh! You’re too loud! If he’s in a gang we don’t want him to hear us!”

Hands shake as he closes the book. One moves upward to cover one of his ears. Suddenly his desire to leave has been amplified. He can’t bring himself to even look up. His eyes stay focused directly on the ground- the water. In his mind their voices are echoing with every word. They think he’s ugly. They think he’s completely hideous. He wants to run. He wants to either run or run them through. There’s no in between. He feels his hands tense into fists- nails picking at the skin around his tattoos.

“He’s really distracting, though. Like... How am I supposed to avoid looking at someone so gross?”

“Yeah. It’s really killing my buzz.”

He doesn’t stand. His body feels locked up. He barely manages to lift his head and stop staring at the back of the book. His eyes are reading dead now. He doesn’t look sad, just... empty. There’s a million thoughts running through his mind: murder and escape, slaves and masters, the past and the current. He doesn’t want to overthink, but he can’t help the places his mind goes. He can’t help the memories of each scar- or why or how. He glances at Show- empty.