CHARACTER UNSELECTED.

npc roleplay account. under co.

[nonplayabl]

#nonplayabl, shelby's npcs/side-characters. glitches and rejects, abandoned toys, shadows. a study in the sidelined. dash only. 21+. there are no guidelines. SELECT YOUR PLAYER.

[xlovteez]

[nonplayabl]

It’s been a long time since he’s come to her. It’s been a long time since anyone has. She feels hazy, half-formed, as if she were a dream all along. 

          “Are you crawling to me for comfort again?”          

He better not be. To leave her suspended until he sees fit—and only when he sees fit—would be unwise. She is fae through and through: to cause her offense comes with consequences.  

          “How many seasons has it been, @wickdcreatures? How often did you forget me?” 

Answer carefully. 

[nonplayabl]

#nonplayabl, shelby's npcs/side-characters. glitches and rejects, abandoned toys, shadows. a study in the sidelined. dash only. 21+. there are no guidelines. SELECT YOUR PLAYER.

[nonplayabl]

complaining about this here where nobody follows me & i dont run the risk of being murdered but i didnt realize kpop dmn hnters won an oscar for best original song. when they admitted w their whole chest they used ai making the music. and everyones just fine with that

[celebritiesandmovies]

Who hurt you so much you never wanna feel that way again?

[davidhudson]

Happy 56th, Julie Delpy.

[hyunpic]

god may he never figure anything out

[j4dore]

@nonplayabl said: i can't tell if we're dancing or negotiating. / 4 jun frum kangho

“  management  probably  thinks  the  latter,  ”       whether  or  not  a  collaboration  comes  from  this,  he  is  having  fun.  they  are  few  and  far  between  but  he  has  seen  the  pictures  of  minsu  with  kangho.  he’s  seen  kangho’s  name  come  up  on  minsu’s  lockscreen  too  —  and  when  jun  asks,  he  always  flips  his  phone  over  and  tells  him  not  to  worry  about  it.

well,  now  minsu  has  gone  and  got  him  all  curious.  maybe  by  dancing  he  is  negotiating  for  another  chance  to  see  him.  a  chance  to  talk.  to  figure  out  just  what  the  hell  is  happening  between  the  two  of  them.

bonus  points  that  he’s  cute.

“  either  way,  we  should  take  a  break  —  ”        he  certainly  doesn’t  need  to  —  demonhood  has  awarded  him  the  ability  to  dance  as  long  as  he  could  possibly  want  should  he  be  fed  enough.  but  he  isn’t…  and  the  sound  of  kangho’s  heartbeat  is  a  little  distracting.  besides,  he  looks  like  he  could  use  it.  the  poor  boy  is  practically  panting  like  a  dog.        “  you  are  an  excellent  dancer,  not  that  you  needed  me  to  tell  you  that,  though.  you  make  it  look  so  effortless.  ”

[nonplayabl]

          “Thank you.”          Kangho beams, dipping his head graciously. He’ll attribute the flush on his cheeks to the exercise.          “I’ve been practicing since I was little.”

A skill honed through unyielding passion and enthusiasm. Minsu recently asked him if he enjoyed his work, because it so often seems like he doesn’t. He felt so guilty, so ungrateful—singing and dancing are his lifeblood; he needs them to live and he can’t imagine doing anything else. Ever since he could move, he’s danced—and it shows, and he’s proud of that. Same with singing: he puffs up with pride when anyone mentions his perfect pitch, and his ability to keep it during intensive choreography; his breath control, his dedication. Performing itself is heaven. He loves it. He really does. It’s the other stuff he could do without. 

          “But you’re better than me, really.”          He skips over to his backpack, pulling the water bottle from its pocket and taking a long, cool drink. It’s a little embarrassing to be upstaged in stamina by someone older than him, even by only a few years. Usually he’s the one to outshine. Maybe it’s all the American drugs he’s been doing.          “Even more effortless. You’ve barely broken a sweat.” 

He was, of course, paying very close attention to Jun during their dance. He’s dreamy, a more feral beauty than Minsu’s but with a lot of the same key factors, the family resemblance notable to say the least. 

          “If you have a secret, please teach me.”

[unpossession]

Following an order with a request. Willow knows with certainty that she doesn't want to be there when Zero wakes up to this new plan. They have a shared dislike of institutional confinement. Even the fancy sort of place Zero will end up for this rehab stint will be uncomfortable at best - maddening at worst. Willow opens her mouth to protest, then closes it. Roxy wasn't asking, so Willow gives her a small, uncertain nod -- then she's on her way to the kitchen in search of a bin bag.

While she's down here she should look for Zero's music box. Stash away what she can of his drugs before Roxy finds them and throws them out in light of this new decision. Nobody would know that she stole it. Zero might even believe that he took it all himself last night. Sleep might come easy again. Maybe there's heroin in there. Maybe...

Willow scratches at her neck, digging her fingernail beneath the ribbon tied around it. Slows to a stop, shakes her head, then hurries up the stairs before she can think about it any more.

"Maybe you could frame it like a retreat or something. Something fun." She worries he'll get mean. Looking at him passed out, Willow's eyes crease in the corners and expose the tenderised meat in her ribcage. He's easy to love when he's asleep. He's easy to love even when he is cruel. She doesn't know why she doubts it sometimes. Eyes back on Roxy, she hands her the bag and starts collecting things to fold up and put away. "Make it feel like a holiday."

[nonplayabl]

She’s tried that before and it didn’t work, but then again she was the one trying it. Zero is less likely to be suspicious of Willow’s motives. Roxy glances between the two, then nods.

          “Sure, say that,”          she says, dropping the empty bottles into the bag.          “We don’t even have to use the word ‘rehab.’ Make him think he’s going to the fucking White Lotus.”

She laughs, sharp and cynical. Then she sighs.

          “You know, the first time he did this shit, I was scared out of my mind. Like an idiot. Holding back tears, trying not to be hysterical. Now it happens and I feel nothing.”          The bedside table drawer is opened; she starts tossing the collection of pills and powders into the bag.          “Nothing but annoyance, anyway.” 

He’s so selfish. Forcibly desensitizing everyone around him, dragging them all into his nihilistic bullshit. She wishes he would care about something, anything, for once—or, if not that, then at least just fucking commit to killing himself. Then she could take on a handful of normal clients like everyone else. 

Her stomach twists, alarmed at how deep the desensitization runs. Thank God her phone buzzes in her pocket, giving her something else to focus on.

Updated ETA. Fucking LA traffic. Roxy counts to ten and keeps cleaning up.

[wickdcreatures]

minsu  can’t  help  the  small  laugh  —  nothing  more  than  a  puff  of  air  through  his  nose,  really  —  that  escapes  him.  he  thinks  anyone  might  be  charmed  by  just  how  boyish  kangho  is.  the  flush  on  his  cheeks  is  visible  enough  through  the  thin  layer  of  makeup  that  he  still  wears  from  his  photoshoot  earlier.  he  can’t  place  it,  but  there  is  something  about  the  way  that  kangho’s  knees  get  wobbly  for  him  that  makes  him  want  to  kick  them  out  from  under  him.  the  sweetness  of  this  boy  inspires  a  mean  streak  he  never  knew  he  had.

but  even  still,  he  isn’t  heartless.  he  can  be  nice,  and  so  he  will  be  —  he  waves  a  hand  in  front  of  his  face  in  a  dismissive  gesture,        “  my  prices  are  the  same  for  you  —  i  won’t  charge  you  any  more  just  because  i  moved.  that  wouldn’t  be  very  fair,  now  would  it?  ”        he  already  charges  him  quite  a  bit  as  it  is.  he  really  wouldn’t  be  selling  at  a  deficit.  in  fact,  the  market  is  so  much  more  flooded  here  that  he  is  making  more  money  off  of  him  anyways  to  sell  at  the  same  price  he  did  back  home.  a  win-win  for  both  of  them.  well,  maybe  not for both of them,  but  he  will  think  of  it  that  way.

“  and  we  can  discuss  the  price  of  lp-9  later,  if  you  end  up  liking  it.  but  these  are  for  you.  for  the  tickets.  ”        though,  the  money  that  he’s  sure  lines  kangho’s  pockets  tonight  is  enticing.  he  will  make  himself  very  available  to  kangho  for  the  remaining  time  he  has  in  los  angeles,  he’s  sure  the  boy  won’t  mind.

minsu  decides,  all  of  a  sudden,  that  he  has  sold  enough  for  the  night  —  or  at  least  for  now.  he  packs  up  what’s  loose  on  the  desk  into  one  singular  briefcase,  which  is  tucked  somewhere  safe  and  out  of  view  where  no  one  is  bound  to  find  it.  he  jacket  is  slung  over  the  back  of  the  fine  leather  chair,  his  sleeves  rolled  up  to  his  elbows  —  the  party  must  be  in  full  swing  at  this  point,  given  how  hot  the  library  has  become.

“  come  with  me,  ”       minsu  says,  pulling  that  key  back  out  of  his  pocket,        “  let’s  get  a  drink.  ”       the  door  is  opened  and  the  music  comes  flooding  in.  he  looks  back  over  his  shoulder  one  more  time  before  he  begins  making  his  way  through  the  crowd.  despite  the  fact  that  this  is  clearly  not  his  normal  crowd,  he  moves  through  the  shifting  mass  of  bodies  with  precision  and  ease. 

[nonplayabl]

Oh my God. Oh my God? Oh my God.

Kangho hasn’t taken anything yet but he might as well have. He practically floats after Minsu, feeling as if he’s dreaming. Maybe he is dreaming. 

He watches his back as he moves through the crowd, so refined and wary and himself. Out of touch because he’s above it all. Kangho can tell Minsu knows something he doesn’t, some sort of profound secret about being alive, and he really wants to know what it is. And touching him feels like getting close to it. He’d like to touch him again, to test the theory. Since they’re going to get drinks (!!) maybe he can brush his hand against Minsu’s, and he’ll be really cool and smooth about it, and Minsu won’t even know it wasn’t an accident. 

There’s no way this is really happening. This is a dream he’s having and just when it’s getting really good Jaeseuk is going to start chucking Beany Babies at his head until he wakes up. Get cute and start smiling.

Or maybe the California People have hallucinogens that dissolve into your skin through touch, and when the boy with Apollo curls danced with him he gave him something so strong that he’s entered psychosis. That could also be plausible. 

But honestly he’s felt like he’s dreaming ever since the Uber started driving up the hill to this house. At one point, the headlights illuminated a jewel-feathered peacock, its tail all fanned out in the dark.

He's falling a little too far behind. He jogs a little to catch up, easing into step beside Minsu.          “What do you like to drink?”

[wickdcreatures]

taking  one  last  drag  from  his  cigarette,  minsu  gestures  with  what’s  left  of  it  back  toward  the  library  before  tamping  the  cherry  out  carefully.  he  leads  the  boy  back  in  toward  that  antique  desk,  over  to  his  pop  up  shop  of  stimulants  and  depressants  and  everything  in  between.  snapping  on  a  sterile  black  nitrile  glove,  opening  one  baggie  of  pills  to  portion  out  three  little  pink  hearts  into  their  own  little  container.  the  other  two  samples  need  no  introduction  —  they’re  kangho’s  favorites,  a  small,  wordless  apology  for  disappearing  without  a  trace.

“  this  —  ”       he  holds  the  small  pill  bag  up  to  the  light,  examining  the  three  pills  inside.     “  this  is  something  you  won’t  be  able  to  get  back  home  —  yet,  at  least.  it  has  a  few  names.  chemfae  or  lp-9  —  it  has  similarities  to  ecstasy  and  a  body  high  not  too  unlike  lsd.  ”        deep  brown  eyes  flicker  from  the  bag  to  the  boy  in  front  of  him,       “  it’s  one  of  my  personal  favorites.  ”

the  bag  is  then  placed  down  on  the  old  wood  of  the  desk.  minsu  fishes  a  pen  from  the  drawers  to  scrawl  on  the  clear  plastic  —  his  phone  number,  brand  new  since  he  moved  to  the  states.  the  bag  is  fanned  in  the  air  so  that  the  ink  dries  before  he  gives  it  to  kangho.

“  for  your  own  sake,  the  first  time  you  take  it,  you  should  probably  be  alone.  one  pill  at  a  time.  don’t  take  it  with  anything  else.  you  can  drink  while  on  it  but  i  wouldn’t  recommend  it  the  first  time.  ”       and  then  a  smile.  small.  sly.  inviting.        “  you  can  call  me  if  you  have  any  questions  about  it.  consultation’s  always  open.  ”

[nonplayabl]

His heart has fluttered all the way up to his throat now, pounding with embarrassing violence once again. He hangs on Minsu’s every word, eyes flickering curiously—hungrily—toward the mysterious new drug, then widening at the phone number. His cheeks get warm; he has to remind himself that it doesn’t mean anything, this is transactional. He thinks of that sad look Jaeseok gave him and fidgets a little in place. 

It just feels so different. Minsu was always kinder than your average dealer, but California has made him so friendly, almost warm. He speaks to him now with such familiarity, touches him, even seems to be flirting with him a little? It must be something in the air here. Kangho wishes he could stay forever.

Pocketing the drugs, he dips his head again, no less enthusiastic and no less embarrassing.          “I will, thank you! Um—are your prices different here? How much do I—?”

He has plenty of money on hand, crisp hundred dollar bills fresh from the currency exchange. Earlier the group had an impromptu, indulgent little photoshoot at the hotel together, taking pictures of each other with the cash splayed out in their hands, on the beds, and of course placed with glamorous carelessness off to the side. 46k likes on Instagram as of four hours ago, and that’s only on his account.

[unpossession]

"N- No, no visitors," Her voice cracks a little. Willow clears her throat. "Sorry."

Maybe she should have been a little more concerned with Zero's current state when she got here. Willow is just so used to seeing him like this. Watching him sleep was entertaining for a short while but the literature called to her - she always finds something good to read in Zero's library. Willow watches Roxy, her lower lip jutting out only slightly in an apologetic sort of pout.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

It's not that Willow sees Roxy as this stern old crone. She just gets nervous. She hopes that Roxy will realise that. Even if they've been vaguely around one another for as long as they have, Roxy has always been busy enough that Willow hasn't had much of a chance to get to know her enough not to be on her best behaviour.

Then, thinking on that: "Or I can just -- go. I'm sorry."

[nonplayabl]

          “No, stick around ‘til he wakes up. He’s more inclined to behave if you’re watching,”          Roxy says, looking back at the body in the bed. She doesn’t know the particulars as to why—and she isn’t sure she wants to—but she’s noticed lately that Zero has been on his best behavior when Willow is around. He tones down the mean streak, speaks softly and with more consideration, pretends not to have a temper. Uncharacteristically cooperative, histrionics suppressed. She’d like to harness that. Usually he’s impossible when this sort of thing happens.

She approaches the bed again, peering around and under it, looking for evidence. It appears that Willow was right about the wine; she pulls an empty bottle from one of the comforters. Under the bed are a handful of empty pill bottles, some labeled and some not, an accumulation of days just like this. There’s no way of knowing which—if any—of them is the culprit this time.

          “He needs to go to rehab again,”          Roxy mutters, gathering up the bottles.          “This is happening more and more. I mean, he overdoses like it’s a fucking hobby. And everyone just lets him.” 

She stands back up, her arms full of addict garbage.          “You’re gonna help me tell him. Rehab, one week minimum, no getting out of it. Do you mind running downstairs and grabbing me a trash bag?”

[nonplayabl]

my non-glitched pinned post img bc i think its cool & clever & im proud of it

[nonplayabl]

going into kpop stan tags for kangho content & entering a dissociative state

[stilessderek]

“I hope people who can’t express themselves with words like me can express themselves through something else like writing or drawing, or something you like.”

[vital-dust]