Realistic or Modern [CS] Castle on the Hill -- 90's/Modern Time Skip

[Slade]

I miss the way you make me feel
It’s real
We watched the sunset over the

Castle on the Hill

​

Sign-Ups

So how about the Apples?

Navigate:
Basics Guidelines / Face-Claim Guidelines / General Prompt Guidelines
1st Prompt / 2nd Prompt / Additional Prompts
Template / Links​

Reminder:

Roles are not first-come, first-serve. So if you’re bummed someone’s already posted an app for a role you wanted, don’t worry about it just yet!

Basic Guidelines [^]

1. In addition to the two prompts, you must provide your character’s name, nickname/s (if applicable), age, and role. Provide this information at the top of your post.
2. For age in 1993, your character must be 14-18. For age in 2018, your character must me 39-43
3. Besides “the one whose brother overdosed,” none of the other characters have any known siblings that grew up in the foster home.
4. If your character has a secret / particular plot point you’re interested in developing along the RP, PM me once you are accepted. We can discuss ways to integrate it into the story.

Face Claim / Play-by Guidelines [^]

1. Realistic, age-appropriate face claims are required.
2. You must provide two photos of your face-claim:
   • Younger (14-18)
   • Older (39-43)
3. Unless it’s plot-relevant, the two photos must resemble each other. It’s the same person, after all.

General Prompt Guidelines [^]

1. There is no required min/max word count for either prompts.
2. If you stylise your app, make sure the words are legible. No neon-coloured letters or font size smaller than Donald Trump’s hands, please.
3. Here are the things I’m looking for in each prompt:
   • Your writing style, and how it will mesh with the others’.
   • An interesting but realistic character.
   • Would love some diversity as well. We can't all be edgelords!
   • Ability to integrate appropriate backstory with setting (see lore section).
   • Hint: I don’t mind cliches, as long as they are done right.
   • Also Hint: You do not need to fit your character’s entire backstory into the prompts. A glimpse is all we need.

First Prompt [^]
Write a first-person letter that your character would have included in the time capsule. It is addressed to their future self. Include a photo of your character in their teenage years.

Second Prompt [^]
Write a third-person, past-tense (RP-style) post set in 2018, after/as your character remembers the time capsule. Hint at what your character is up to now, how they feel about their life, etc. Assume that the friends have all since drifted apart.

Include the place the post is set in. Place this information before the actual post.

Include a photo of your character in the present time.

The prompts are role-specific. If you feel like there might be a better situation for your character to start reminiscing, go ahead. You don’t have to notify me in advance.

One friend left to sell clothes: As they’re chasing down a shoplifter
One works down by the coast: At work, on a stormy afternoon
One had two kids but lives alone: On Christmas eve
One’s brother* overdosed: On brother’s death anniversary
One’s already on his second wife: At the bar, following an argument with the wife
One’s just barely getting by: After getting served an eviction notice

*The brother’s name is Mike. He was also in the foster home, and is briefly referenced in Bryce’s letter below.

Additional Prompts (Post-Acceptance) [^]
Third Prompt: Once accepted, I will ask you to PM me a description of a small object your character included in their time capsule. You may either include a short description of its appearance, or provide a photo. (Or both!) Include the object’s relevance / why your character chose to put it there.

Fourth Prompt: Depending on how everyone likes the prompt system, I might introduce a fourth prompt! This one will also be sent to me privately, and will be used at some point in the RP. This will, again, be OOC information about your character, and the events leading up to their stay at the foster home.

You wouldn’t need to send the third and/or fourth prompts immediately, as they will only be relevant in the second half.

Template[^]

Please note that you are not required to use this template, or to stylise your app at all. However, it should give you more or less an idea of what your app should contain.

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GREETING,[/B]

FIRST PROMPT GOES HERE

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[B]Current Location:[/B]

SECOND PROMPT GOES HERE

Helpful Links: [^] Interest Check / Sign-Ups / Lore / OOC / IC

 

[Slade]

Bryce Arthur Parsons

18 / 43 | One's already on his second wife

Little boy inside my chest
Beat my heart just like a drum

12/06/93
Dear Old Bryce,

Just in case you and the kids are currently arguing over whose bright idea this is (was?): Yes, it was me. Now I know what you're thinking. This is cheesy, even for me ... but I’m also leaving for Seattle next week, and I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t say I wouldn’t miss these assholes. So we're having a little going away party at The Castle tomorrow. I'm a lot more excited than I'd like to admit, but heh, I'm sure this is all “been there, done that” for you.

Anywho, just for nostalgia's sake, I managed to get one of your senior prom pics in here (how's the hair? still floofy? do you even STILL have hair?). Speaking of prom, remember Tania Wescott? Last week, Mike caught me wasted, leaving the house with a boombox over my shoulder, planning to win her back John Cusack-style. Good man stopped me just in time. To be honest, I’m still tempted to do it anyway heh …

Bet you’re rolling your eyes right now. “This poor innocent soul,” you say, sipping a cup of whatever sophisticated drink you big city folks like to drink. And I bet you’ve gone through a slew of supermodels ever since your first platinum record/world tour … And/Or you could be settling down, complete with wife and kids. Doesn’t really matter to me, as long as you’re up there rocking with Chris Cornell and Kurt Cobain (or maybe just Layne Stanley, hey I’m not picky). Just don’t sell out. But if you’re cool enough to hang out with guys like those, I’m sure you won’t.

Some of the kids are asking me not to pack up so soon. And with Russell getting sick again, I feel like I’m leaving everyone hanging. Makes me feel like shit for sure, but you gotta do what you gotta do, right? Audition spot suddenly opened up for one of the bigger grunge projects … wouldn’t have known if Paul didn’t tell me last minute (remember to thank that guy, seriously). Still don’t have anywhere to stay. Only have my guitar, the recordings, and $457 to my name. This is all very rushed and unplanned, but honestly I have never felt more sure about anything my entire life.

I’m at the point of no return, Old Man. But I have seven of the best people in the world watching my back. There’s nothing to fear.

How's that for cheesy?

Just so you know, I was kidding about the supermodel thing and the world tour (I can live with a gold album, I guess). But for real, as long as you’re happy, that's all that matters right? And good job keeping the kids from killing each other or otherwise setting everything on fire. I know it’s been 25 years, but I’m sure some things never change.

Come As You Are,
Bryce circa ‘93​

Tell him I'll never forget
How it was when we were young

Current Location: Seattle, WA

Somewhere in Minnesota, there was a tiny room that blocked off 99% of the noise of the outside world. Apparently, a mere half-hour inside was all it took to make anyone go crazy.

Bryce was sceptical. By now, he’d probably spent about half his waking moments inside music studios and live booths all over the country -- and yet, his sanity was still intact last time he checked. Remove the instruments and the singing voices, and these rooms became a bunch of auditory vacuums themselves -- so quiet that at times he could swear he could hear his own heartbeat.

More than anything, though, the silence of the studio always put him at ease, and when the soundless space was finally filled with sweet symphonies, well. That was a different story.

His fingertips slid across the guitar strings, dancing along the fretboard as they switched from chord to chord without effort. Bryce’s eyes were closed. He let his hands move on their own, rich acoustic notes bouncing around the layers upon layers of vinyl on the studio walls.

The silence of the studio was the calm before the storm. Music was the tempest that ignited something brilliant within him. Lost in his own melody, he found himself smiling.

Knock. Knock.

Bryce opened his eyes. The man on the other side of the glass called his attention. He looked just a little bit older than him, with his thinning grey hair, and the crow’s feet etched on the corners of his brown eyes. Gerry’s wrinkled face looked even more wrinkled when he smiled; it made him look older and yet, more alive.

Gerry gestured at Bryce to get back into the control room. The latter nodded, setting down the vintage, blue stratocaster on its stand.

“Almost looked like the real deal there, buddy.” Gerry clapped his hand at Bryce’s back as the latter entered the room. Gerry’s gravelly voice was cheerful and booming as ever. “Couldn’t help but play with the cool kids’ toys?”

“Production sent them in advance.” Bryce shrugged, glancing over his shoulder. Inside the live booth was a full set of instruments -- drums, guitars, keyboards, mics -- all tuned and prepared for their owners’ arrival. “Apparently, the band only has half an hour to record, so better get set up in advance.”

“And I assume the rest of their stay in Seattle is, what, reserved for getting wasted and sleeping with groupies?” Gerry scoffed, idly playing with the knobs and the sliders on the mixer. “These self-important little shits think they’re so revolutionary. Didn’t Dave Grohl already do the same thing a couple years ago?”

“Gotta cut the kids some slack, Ger. Foo wrote new songs with every city they visited; these kids are covering the classics. Major difference.” Bryce’s laughter indicated that he was on his co-worker’s side, more than anything. “Besides, that show was produced by HBO, wasn’t it? This is all Netflix.”

With immaculate timing, the door to the hallway flew open. A small crowd gathered on the other side of the door, armed with professional video cameras and boom mics.

“And Netflix is the future, as we all know!” Gerry stood up, forcing a grin as he welcomed their guests. “How are we doing today, folks?”

“Gemma McCallister. Executive producer.” From the faceless mob emerged a tiny woman with horn-rimmed glasses, and a bun that screamed business. She waved her hand to dismiss the two older men. “We have our own sound engineers on the team. They’re more familiar with The Band’s artistic preferences, and have already been featured on the previous episodes. We want continuity.” A pair of young men with gelled beards and stylish undercuts stepped forward to join Gemma McCallister, whose tiny hands never stopped moving -- not even after Gerry had moved out of the way to join the mildly disturbed Bryce in a dark and lonely corner of the room. “Come on, people, let’s go! We’re already behind schedule here.”

The pair of them watched in silence as Gemma McCallister continued to wave her hands around, the crew moving to their respective places with scary efficiency. Somewhere out in the hallway, Bryce could hear someone talking about how he had grown up listening to Nirvana, and how honoured he was to pay tribute to the Seattle grunge scene.

“Ah, shit. Gems? I keep messing up this line.” The faceless voice called out from the hallway. “How do I pronounce this? Christ? Chrissed? Novo-what-now?”

Bryce and Gerry exchanged a look.

Gemma McCallister grunted in frustration. “Nevermind that, Chad. We’ll fix it in editing. Just get in here, all of you.”

One by one, a group of leather-clad twentysomethings in skinny jeans piled into the live booth, picking up their respective instruments. Their frontman began their performance with another moving speech about how grunge had saved his life.

The studio lights dimmed, and, with slightly unsettling synchronicity, all five band members bowed their heads. The keyboardist banged at her keys then, playing a somehow familiar intro that also sounded alien through the abundance of synthesisers.

Like a child forced to go through a haunted house, Gerry grabbed Bryce’s hand. Bryce did not stop him.

The singer moaned into the microphone, and, starting his own interpretation of the song, confirmed the older men’s worst fears.

“Come as you are,
As I want you to be…”​

Strange. Bryce had seen the words coming from miles away, but actually hearing them -- for the first time since he cared to remember -- evoked long-buried memories of hastily-written letters, and the plans that went to the grave with them.

"As a friend, as a friend
As an old enemy..."​

Gerry’s hushed voice kept him from slipping further down the memory lane. “Holy shit, these kids are slaughtering grunge mercilessly.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ger.” Bryce smirked, ignoring the scowls his friend’s comment had elicited. “Can’t slaughter something that’s already dead. Grunge died long ago. Literally killed itself, in fact.” By this point, Bryce’s mind was only half there. Another part of him was too busy wondering: What was it? What did he write again? Why couldn’t he remember?

This time, Gerry’s nasally, badly-suppressed giggling didn’t snap him out of his reverie -- although his vibrating phone did the job well enough. Bryce pulled his phone out of his pocket, bright screen flashing across the room as he checked who it was. It was his ex -- well, sort of ex.

“Bryce, that better be about the divorce papers and nothing else, cause I'd be terribly disappointed otherwise.” Gerry nudged his shoulder, seemingly impervious to the growing amount of stares from the production crew. He was perfectly aware of the growing look of guilt on his friend's face, however. “Swear to god, Bryce Arthur, I'm signing you up for Serial Monogamists Anonymous one of these days.”

“Well, I'm not getting any younger, Ger.” Even Bryce seemed more embarrassed about the admission than he was about the attention the pair of them were getting. “Besides, it's innocent. Promised to give her son guitar lessons, that's all. It’s the only thing that would keep him sitting still.”

“Gentlemen!” Gemma McCallister had her arms crossed, foot tapping at the floor impatiently. “If you must insist on making more noise, could you please do it outside?”

Well, she did say please.

Without protest, the men exited into the hallway. Bryce’s phone continued to vibrate. Gerry chuckled, throwing his hands up in a gesture of resignation. “Go, if you want. Anyway, not like Gemma McWhat’s-Her-Face needs us when she has her hipster children playing with the mixer. Just don’t come crying to me about how it was all a mistake two weeks from now, yeah? It starts to look pathetic once you’ve hit forty.” Gerry sent him a friendly wink.

“Appreciate it, man.” Bryce waved as he ran to his car.

Take your time
Hurry up​

Within minutes, he was driving through the freeway, the exit leading to Meghan’s apartment fast approaching. His mind kept pulling him back to washed-out images of castles and small towns that rain loved even more than Seattle.

The choice is yours
Don't be late​

The car’s radio was held off by incessant notifications of an incoming call. Bryce’s gaze shifted back-and-forth between the road, and the green icon on the car’s media interface.

Take a rest as a friend
As an old​

Ah, fuck it.

Memoria​

As he passed Meghan’s exit, his index finger tapped the red box underneath the caller ID. The call was dismissed, and finally the radio resumed its connection to the local station.

“Blue jean baby, LA lady,
Seamstress for the band…”​

 

[animeloulou]

Amy Jo Hart

17 / 42 | One works down by the coast

Of all the things I still remember,
summer's never looked the same

​

12/06/93
Dear Future Amy,

First of all - if someone I don't know is reading this, buzz off!

Now that that's taken care of, hi future me! It feels pretty weird writing to myself like this. Who knows, maybe you'll find this again and read it and think, "Gosh, I was really odd back then!" Hint hint: I am!

I'm really, really hoping that you don't grow out of being a tomboy. I mean, overalls are way too comfortable to give up! At least I wear pink - that's girly, right? That's gotta count for something. Plus, just in case you don't remember my rad fashion sense, I've stuck in a photo that one of the guys took when I wasn't looking. You're welcome!

I have so many questions! Are you married? Did you have the big wedding? Is he hot? Did you have the big, poofy dress? I am, on the other hand, still single as a pringle... Ugh, I want to be in love! I want the butterflies and the excitement! I haven't even had my first kiss yet! No one at school noticed me, so maybe I just repel guys... I can dream though!

While we're on the subject of the future, did you become a world-famous fiction writer? I really hope so, because otherwise that would mean that all the stories in my notebook were probably bad, and I don't want to self-wound my pride like that. Not now, at least.

So, we're having a going-away party for Bryce tomorrow at The Castle... Can't you tell that I was avoiding the subject? I don't know, in a way it feels weird that we're all not going to be together as a whole anymore. We're definitely still going to be friends when you read this again though - heck, they might be peeking over your shoulder to read this - go on, check!

Whenever you do end up reading this - make sure that you cherish every day, okay? All of us have had enough chaos in our lives, we need each other.

Stay peppy,
Amy, the '93 Edition​

The years go by and time just seems to fly,
but the memories remain

​

Current Location: Wareham, MA

The raindrops battered the windows of the restaurant in a seemingly hypnotic fashion. Fiddling with the rag in her hand, Amy focused on the smooth material between her fingertips, taking long, deep breaths. It had been the right decision to close up early - no one in their right mind would go out in weather like this. She should have left when she had sent her staff home, but a part of her wanted to use the free time to clean up. Instead, she was left alone with only the dull hum of the storm to keep her company.

She had always hated thunderstorms. She had never been able to shake the feeling of dread that would develop within her whenever a storm hit. Her chest would tighten, her palms would get sweaty and her heart would begin to race. It had terrified her when she was younger, although as she got older, she began to discover ways of combating it.

Moving to the bathroom, Amy began to wash her hands, the cool water failing to break her out of her thoughts. It was only when her gaze landed on the mirror above her that Amy froze.

A ghost stared back at her.

Sunken cheekbones and bags under her eyes formed her features, but she didn't notice that. Instead, her mind focused on the fat that had formed on her arms - probably from the leftover chocolate cake that was on the previous day's menu.

A light buzzing in her pocket brought her back to reality. Hastily drying her hands, she answered the call. Some supplier was inquiring about delivery dates. Making her way to the office, she rummaged around in the drawers, growing more and more irritated at her lack of success.

It was then that she saw them.

Pushed to the back of the bottom-most drawer, presumably stuffed in there during the move, were a pair of fluffy pink earmuffs.

"Miss? Are you still there?"

Amy quickly finished up the call after finally finding the relevant documents. It was only then that she cast her gaze back to the oh-so-familiar item. Faint memories passed her mind. Most vivid however, were the many nights that her friends, her family, had stayed with her as thunderstorms raged outside the foster home, even going as far as to present her with the earmuffs before her for her birthday, pink of course. One glance at the small calendar decorating her desk confirmed her suspicions.

The twenty-five years were up.

 

[Awakening AKIRA]

(I altered the flashforward scenario for this role solely because I originally wrote it for the mother's overdose plot line. This has been edited and redited so many times I am so sorry if something doesn't make sense, it's midnight and I'm too hyped.)

Juno Carter Lee

16/41 | One Friend Left to Sell Clothes - Resident #Edgelord - 'Rich Boy' - 'JuJu'

I said kill me now, I want to die
I heard there's a chance at an afterlife

12/06/93
Oi Assholes,

This is the dumbest shit you've ever done, and Bryce is a dweeb — make sure he still knows that! Even if all his big city dreams came true and he's a rockstar, he's still a fucking nerd who you've caught talking to his hair (remind of him of that if he's being all high and mighty).

This is dumb. I guess future me is reading this? I mean, if I make it to whatever the fuck twenty five years from now makes me: Old as balls is what. And of course the rest of you assholes are probably reading it over my shoulder or have stole it. I hate being the youngest (except for Twitch, but you know, Twitch, fucking old man in a baby faced body). Fuck you all.

But I hope we're still all mates in the future. If we've grown apart, kick us for me, yeah, future me? They're the only good thing in life at the moment. They act like assholes? Don't care. Remember they're the ones that were there for you during the stupid fucking divorce. Plus, they're the only ones who put up with you being a moody bastard. Are we still pulling off the brooding look? And FUCK YOU whoever just said I was never pulling it off in the first place (I know you said it. I know you guys that well, asshats).

Uh. Make sure mum's okay for me, future me. And I dunno, phone dad or whatever. Even if they did dump you in this foster shit hole whilst they do fuck knows what. Sort themselves out, hopefully. Still, Dad said he'd take you back soon so. Yeah he sucks but I guess in twenty five years he'll basically be dead so tell the old man thanks for trying, I guess. Not sure I mean it but fucking Bryce abandoning us is making me all fucking fuzzy and gooey I guess.

I bet the others all wrote about their dreams and plans. Don't fucking have any, so can't ask you how they went. Hope you've figured it out by now and aren't still a total loser.

I guess if those assholes are still reading it this far, they deserve something. So thanks you idiots for everything. I don't think I'd still be here this summer if it weren't for you lot. It's actually been fun, kind of. You're pretty cool for such a bunch of massive dorks.

Important questions I expect you to time-travel back to me:

1) Is Weed legal yet? Because if so hook me up you asshole.
2) Aliens? HAVE THEY MADE CONTACT YET?!?
3) Okay, I sound like fucking Amy here so yeah yeah yeah, laugh away, but do we get married? It's dumb, but after mom left and crap, I want to do the whole true love thing properly. Okay laugh it up guys, you're so funny. But seriously. Am I still able to do that stuff after (you know)?

Right.

OFf you fuck you lot
JuJu
PS. You'd better have told them you're queer by now asshole (If not, I just did it for you, SUCK IT) ​

I might not get let in
But at least I won't be living

Occupation: Model turned Editor for a Fashion Magazine

Current Place of Residence: New York City

Current Location: En Route to North Dunswell

Surprise surprise, as Juno crossed the border into Dunswell the heavens opened and down the rain poured. It'd make him feel nostalgic if it wasn't so depressing. 'Guess I won't be needing these anymore,' he muttered to himself, sliding the ray-ban sunglasses out of his hair and tucking them back into the case.

'What was that, sir?' His driver asked, half turning his face back towards him. Still as nosy as ever then.

'Nothing, Fredricks. Just glad to be home.' Never before had such a filthy lie been spoken. Still, it seemed to cheer the driver up as he rabbited on about all the latest developments in town, bitching as he always did about everyone in The Clearing.

Even seeing Fredricks, the driver who'd taken him to school every day depressed him. Well, every day until things went to shit. Things had changed so much since the foster home, since he'd tried standing his father again after knowing he'd let mom die, since he'd left — but this place still looked exactly the same. Since dropping out of school two weeks before graduation and leaving this entire shithole behind him, Juno hadn't missed it one bit.

Well. Maybe he'd missed some things - some people - but there wasn't much point to moping about it. He wasn't the same kid he'd been back then.

Now, thinking about that managed to win a small smile. What a nightmare of a teenager he'd been. In retrospect, he wished he'd handled it better, not given into the cliche of the rebellious foster child furious at the world. Still, it had shown him he could survive without everything that came with being his father's son, and had given him the courage later on to leave. See, being dumped and then disowned did have its advantages. But there were disadvantages too, like how awkward the next few weeks would be.

Would it really be twenty-five years so soon?

In all honesty, he didn't know why his father had reached out to him now to mourn her. They'd passed the five, ten, twenty year milestones all without a word to one another. Yet there he sat, on the way back to his childhood home for the first time in over two decades. There was to be no service, no great memorial. Just them, Juno and his father, together for a whole two months.

And that thought was even more depressing than the rain.

There went St Agatha's, the Parish, the haunted house, until through the drizzle running down the window, Avondale Estates welcomed him, gates tightly shut. Fredricks buzzed them in and trundled through the five-miles-an-hour zone whilst Juno checked himself in a compact. Vanity chased him even here, to the hellhole he no longer cared about, but then he supposed that was just the nature of the business he was in. Fixing his eyebrows, he prayed yet again that things back at the magazine wouldn't fall to shit without him. It being his first time off of work since — well, since leaving Dunswell, paranoia came naturally.

The car slowed to a halt. He could survive this. After everything, this he could survive.

 

[Error 420]

Michael Brooke Allen

15 / 40 One's barely getting by
"Twitch"

Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is la vie en rose

​

12/06/93
Hey Dickwads,

This is some dumb shit, Bryce. Time capsule?

Whatever. I'm going to try to be sentimental here, for your sake. God knows everybody else went negative with it. Let me guess, they started it with "Hey Assholes"? Well you guys aren't assholes, not to me. You're dickwads, not assholes. I'll split this person by person.

Bryce: I don't know what we're going to do without you, bro. You meant a lot to all of us, and we both know Seattle ain't big enough for your ego. I don't know if you'll come back, but when you do I promise I'll be right here. I'm not abandoning my turf that easily.

Juju: I swear, if you don't get out of this phase soon adult me is going to beat the shit out of you. Okay, you might be a prick, but I still enjoy getting high with you sometimes. We've had quite a few memories together, and hopefully there's going to be a lot more.

Amy: Thanks for the laughs and for the handy nickname. "Twitch" works much better than "Lamer Mike". Sorry about all the flirting, too. I didn't mean it, but I think you knew. You're probably married with a thousand foster kids yourself that you're trying to keep out of trouble. Wow, really puts all the stuff we did into perspective. Oh well. Hopefully they treat you better than we did our foster parents.

Mike: You're like a big brother to all of us, and we're gonna miss you, wherever you go. Promise to drop me a line every once in a while. Remember what's really important in life: Sex, Drugs, and Rock 'n' Roll.

Loud Mouth: Don't let the fact that Juju is prettier than you go to your head. He's prettier than everyone. Sorry you had to deal with my hipster bullshit for so long, but you should never make a bet against Twitch for control of the CD player. Twitch will do anything for control of the CD player.

I don't know what y'all are going to do without me in your lives, but let's face it, it's gonna be lame compared to me.

Love,
Twitch​

​

Current Location: North Dunswell, the Castle

Twitch sits in his regular perch near the castle, watching the sunset like he did whenever he felt introspective. Some nonsense about not enough balloons for the county fair drove him off the wall. He always said he'd run this town, and now he did, with the help of about thirty anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, and whatever else the doctor gave him. The sun setting over the hill gave him a sense of clarity, simplicity, and reminded him to take his sleeping pills.

The kids around town still called him Twitch, but the adults only knew him as the enigmatic Mayor Allan. How would he introduce himself to the ones he once called brothers and sisters? Cocky wiseguy Twitch? Or suave professional Micheal Allan?

A ring from his phone. He hangs up. Another ring. You left me. You can't toy with me. I'm not your toy. He hangs up. A third time. He throws his phone at a tree. Micheal Allan stands from the brick wall of the Castle and begins kicking at the phone. Punching the tree. Screaming at the sky.

Twitch sits down in his home office. Blood drips from his fist onto the imitation oak desk, into a pool that has been gathering for hours. Twitch begins to panic, confused and afraid. His mind races with questions. How did I get who did I where is my please make it stop where is he I can't find him please help-

The sleeping pills kick in. Micheal Allan rises from his seat, removes his suit, and goes to bed.

 

[mikaluvkitties]

Lucas Alexander Moore

14 / 39 | One has two kids but lives alone
"Luke”

I don't need a new love or a new life
just a better place to die

12/06/93
hey old luke,

it’s young luke, reporting in from 1993. i don’t really know what to say. i really should have planned this before i just started writing. anyways. bryce thought this would be fun, and bryce is leaving soon, and i love him, so who am i to deny him.

i’m actually really gonna miss him. mike’s gonna be an adult soon enough, too. i hope he at least sticks around longer than bryce. wow, this all sounds really lame, huh? you don’t want to read about old drama- you already know how it all turns out! i’m sure we’re all fine in the future, right? you guys are all probably laughing about this not right now!

you guys are us. damn. it’s hard to believe one day i’ll be old. let’s discuss other things. god, this is so dorky.

so. what do i wanna do when i grow up. shit, dude, i’m fourteen. when i grow up i wanna know what i wanna do. nailed it.

i’d really like to still be close to mike. the others too, but definitely mike. earlier, we were fucking around and discussing where we’ll go when we’re older. mike doesn’t like it here. i don’t blame him- the town’s boring- but i don’t want him to leave until i can go with him. he might as well be my brother, too.

i don’t think i want anyone to leave until i can go with, but i guess it’s already too late for that.

ugh, i’m discussing drama you’ve already lived through again. i’m drunk, gimme a break.

hope you’re living the american dream? no, that’s not for us. hope you found a purpose.

see ya in 35 years,
younger luke​

I didn't know I was broken
'til I wanted to change

Current Location: Rancho Mirage, CA

In Rancho Mirage, California, it was always t-shirt weather. Even when it was Christmas Eve and you were standing outside waiting for your estranged daughter to arrive, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as you leaned against the posts that held up your patio awning, much like Luke was now.

He shifted from leg to leg again, preparing to apologize to one of the many people he had never before had the chance to. At least this one wrong could be righted.

Immediately, he found himself thinking of Mike, as he often did, someone he would never get the chance to apologize to, even if he was the one who deserved it most. He thought of skipping rocks, ditching school, and an out-of-place castle in sleepy little Dunswell, Washington.

For a couple of minutes, his mind floated to his younger years, both good and bad. And then he recalled a time capsule, filled with a letter and an item to be gifted to his future self as he sat there, giggly from drink, trying to forget in a few days his entire life would change.

Everyone from his old foster home had been there, hadn’t they? When was the last time he had contacted any of them? A little less than twenty years? When was that capsule planted? It must have been forever ago.

Twenty five years.

Like that his phone was out, and he was checking the date. The day was almost here, and a wave of dizziness passed over him- and then a car door was slamming.

He looked up, and despite not seeing her in twelve years, he recognized the woman getting out of her car immediately. His daughter.

And without a thought, his phone was back in his pocket.

It could wait.

 

[myst.erion]

Maria Clara Espinosa

15 / 40 | "One's brother, overdosed...."
"M.C/M.C Espinosa" - "Loud Mouth"

SONG LYRICS QUOTE
DEMONIC INCANTATION

12/06/93
hello....older [much hotter] me,

first off, i just want everyone reading this to know that i am a raging latina right now [as i write this] and i better still be one. porque, if im not, slap it back into me. the closest person to me. JUST DO IT.

also....I have a public service announcement pero, you can't get enough of those. here it is ----> GOONIES NEVER SAY DIE!

there. im done.

for Bryce's sake [god damn you gringo this was a brilliant idea], im gonna get sentimental now. its about to get deep senora [pass it over to me now, thank you. i think you've read enough]. i guess, i better tell you [me] that i hope you are okay. and i hope you have a job, and i hope you haven't made any stupid decisions. and i hope that you have money. and a house. and a job. and a husband, and kids. oh god. have you pushed kids out yet? you know what, I don't wanna know DONT TELL ME. future maria, i hope that you are happy with your life. i really do. [i mean, its my life. you better have not fucked me over]

another thing future me, do you remember jessica? the girl in the photo? i miss her. do you still miss her? i hope so... she was really good to us. she was as good as friends get nowadays [i still love the others too. don't worry] anyways. i hope you still visit her grave. that would be really cool. she would have really liked that. oh, and, what about Mike? Is he a lawyer yet? he's talking to me about it right now. im not kidding : D i swear he is! he really knows what he wants to do with his life. but. future me. he is scaring me too. yesterday he told me some kids who hang around the orphanage want to be his friends. he said billy [the older boy who is a month older than Mike] has special cigarettes [or something], and that i should go with him on thursday to their room. he said we would have fun. i heard him talking to himself last night maria. can you keep him safe for me? promise me you will keep him safe. he's all that i have left. i don't wanna lose him senora. por vavor.

im sure though, that we are gonna get exactly what we want! of course we will! we are unstopabble [he just threw a pillow at me for laughing out loud. imagine that] we are a team now. so what could go wrong? huh maria? we'll be fine won't we : ) Mike is writing his letter too now you know? on the bed opposite to mine. we made a deal. he won't read mine, and i won't read his, until it's time to read all of them. so make sure you pass it to him when you are done reading

one more thing! bryce told me I could write as much as I want, but I don't want you to read too much. i bet you still don't read as much as now. do you? oh my god. did aliens probe you into reading books and learning? NO. OH GOD NO THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING. im just kidding. go read a book. someone somewhere said it was good for you.

alright, im gonna go now. Mike finished his already, and we said we would put our letters and things in together. i don't know why he decided my stupid necklace was okay to take. just make sure he gives it back to you. take a polaroid with it on again for me, for old [this] time's sake will you? : ) oh- wait. i didn't mean that. won't you have cool new technology in 2018? I guess so

puta he is. a puta. i don't wanna get too aggressive, i'll stop now. Leo just left without me....guess that means I have more time to write huh?

what should I write about? [you know, for someone who doesn't even read, everyone gonna wonder why i wrote so much when i was 15 years old : ) i guess that's kinda funy huh?] i know what im gonna do. ask questions. questions are good. I won't know the asnwers to them now, but who cares, do it anyway, its free right? oh my god, america is still a free country right? oh god. is someone trying to ruin it again? did you get any pets? where do you live? are you married [some questions are repetitive. sue me] how manykids do you have? what do you do as a job? have you learnt fluent spanish by now? did they invent a time machine? [if so you better get your ass over here right now and answer my god damned questions] oh, how often do you see Mike? [i hope its everyday]

good luck getting everyone back together i guess,
lots of love, Maria p.s; i know you gave in and decided to read this Micheal. te amo : ) ​

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DEMONIC INCANTATION

Current Location:

SECOND PROMPT GOES HERE

 

[Error 420]

So were all three of you Mike's brother?