NORMALHQS is a skeleton rp about a mysterious town and a group of unlikely comrades uniting to figure out what makes Normal so weird. CURRENT RP TIME: May 2019 MN. var fhs = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id = "5611453"; var ref = (''+document.referrer+'');var pn = window.location;var w_h = window.screen.width + " x " + window.screen.height; fhs.src = "//freehostedscripts.net/ocounter.php?site="+fhs_id+"&e1=&e2=&r="+ref+"&wh="+w_h+"&a=1&pn="+pn+""; document.head.appendChild(fhs);document.write(""); / var fhsh = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id_h = "3333877"; fhsh.src = "//freehostedscripts.net/ocount.php?site="+fhs_id_h+"&name=&a=1"; document.head.appendChild(fhsh);document.write("");
hello, I'm tori, I play holly and I am a very good respectable person who causes no trouble ever and I would like to change Holly's FC from Abbey to Kennedy McMann thank you have a blessed and good night amen
FC change! Abigail Cowen is now open and Kennedy McMann is taken
So i saw the post about how you made the muse pages for the skeletons, and I went to the source page and found the code for the theme but I don’t know what to do with the code. What do I do? What do I use?
Hey anon, like I said in that post you’re gunna need to message me on my personal account if you want me to walk you through it.
Hi, gang! Our triggers list been updated so just make sure to give it another look and tag anything accordingly! If anyone needs anything added don’t hesitate to ask.
Also all new members are welcome to start plotting/interacting once they drop their intros! We’re so excited to have all these new faces on board to our little hellmouth!
( Congratulations, Penny! Please send in your tumblr blog and your discord to the main in the next 24 hours or THE STONER will be reopened )
STATS
Full Name: Juniper Ackerman
Faceclaim: Diana Silvers
Age: 17
DOB: June 13
Year in school: Junior
Gender: Cisfemale
Pronouns: She/her
Side of Normal: North Normal
Worst fears: Are you kidding me? Only thing left she’s scared of is death itself
Milkshake order: She’s got issues, so she drinks peanut butter milkshakes
BIO
Many people have told Juniper Ackerman that, for a girl who lives in a mansion big enough to fit the entire population of Normal, she couldn’t seem more South Side-born if she had it tattooed on her face. She was a walking, talking, cursing example of a juxtaposition. A soft, unimposing face accompanying a ready string of expletives at the slightest inconvenience; dark, inexpensive-looking clothes as she walks from the largest manor in her neighborhood; dried paint on hands only used in public to flip people off; tired eyes with dark circles permanently pressed into the skin beneath them always a little too wide to look normal; a name known by most (if not all) of the students, though few knew anything about her at all. If she weren’t so desperate to fill up the empty, to chase away the darkness by filling her home wall-to-wall with people, there was no doubt she would be a social pariah in every regard.
Biting words and ill-mannered jokes keep most people at bay from her, save for those few she’ll spare. Everything about her screams unhealthy coping mechanisms: from the faint scent of alcohol always clinging to her clothes to the nails she’s chewed off to the array of medicines-- both prescription and… recreational-- stashed away in the drawer by her bed. Her defense mechanisms are just as bad, though she wasn’t always like this. For most of her early years, she was a fairly normal (and nice) child. All she wanted was to make friends, to have people to spend time with other than the girl who lived in her closet.
Then came the seventh grade slumber party to ruin it all. Everything had been perfectly prepared. An array of movies was chosen to keep her and her five companions up for hours, she’d ensured each invitee had three of their favorite snacks to choose from, and the family room had been cleared out to make room for their makeshift campout. She couldn’t think of a single thing left out, until that single thing began causing disturbance after disturbance in the middle of the party. Pounding headaches, missing belongings, pulled hair, and scratched DVDs were just the most prominent issues to arise within two hours. Headless Mary, as Juniper had fondly called her, didn’t like not being invited to the party. But at that point, June was aware she was the only one who could see her, and she wasn’t exactly sure how to justify speaking to someone no one else knew existed. That was what she’d been trying to explain to Mary in the kitchen, anyway, when one of the girls came to get another soda only to find the host of the party locked in a one-person conversation with an empty spot of air. Within the next school week, her reputation was completely trashed.
Throughout the years she found herself becoming more and more withdrawn; if she curled up small enough, maybe people would forget she was there and move on from calling her the local freak. She found herself spending more time with the older people who frequented her home while her parents were off. Being old enough to be left alone didn’t seem to matter, since the amount of people to come out of the woodwork the second she was meant to get the house to herself was outrageous. Somehow, even in spite of Mary’s presence, it took her a few years to realize she was the only living person on the premises during that time. That was when the drinking began.
The Juniper you’ll meet in the hall now is the same personality she created in the transformative summer between eighth grade and freshman year. Her appreciation for silence and basking in the sounds of nature was replaced with the blaring notes and voices of rock music. It’s still hard to catch her without some violent, thrasher music turned up to full volume in her ears. She’s not sure she could function an entire day without it. Her vibrant, brand-name clothes were traded in for tattered thrift store finds, allowing her to fly much further under the radar. Her upbeat, friendly personality markedly absent, her smile exchanged for a scowl. The only difference between freshman and junior year is this: it’s no longer all about self-preservation. Now, in the wake of Tommy Richter pulling a total Ouija Board and communicating to all the members of Normal’s dead kid population that she can hear and see them, she’s terrified of putting anyone else in these ghouls’ line of sight.
( Congratulations, S! Please send in your tumblr blog and your discord to the main in the next 24 hours or THE FAN will be reopened )
STATS
Full Name: Rose Tuntayakul
Faceclaim: Lalisa Manoban
Age: 16
DOB: December 31
Year in school: Junior
Gender: Cisfemale
Pronouns: She/her
Side of Normal: North Normal
Worst fears: The dark
Milkshake order: Orea with soya milk
BIO
Rosie Tuntayakul is a target for bullying from the day she’s born. She’s the runt of a large, wealthy family, the scrawny and awkward sibling, a punching bag for her siblings. It’s a role she plays so well, without even meaning to. She has a talent for sticking her foot in her mouth and for being too enthusiastic. And thanks to her eagerness to please, her desire for real friendship, Rosie never learns any better. A diary extract from her ninth birthday reads: I’m glad I described the goody bag contents on the invitation. People really like Tamagotchis, so I think that’s why they came.
Without many (read: any) friends, Rosie spends her days reading. She fancies herself as a regular Hermione Granger, and decides that one day, just like Hermione, she’ll find at least a couple of people who want to be her friend. Eventually, she does find one, someone with similar fanciful notions of love and romance. One friend, truthfully, is enough for Rosie.
At fourteen, Rosie buys her first deck of tarot cards. It started as a mild curiosity, but a girl like Rosie needs something to hold on to, and paganism became exactly that. She’s able to divine comfort from the cards, and spends many a night holed up in her room laying out spreads while the Harry Potter score plays in the background. Her cards and her writing are what makes it so that Rosie can keep wearing that sunny smile on her face, no matter what.
The Leader’s arrival in her life, if you ask Rosie, was written in the stars. The Death card she drew the night before told her as much: it was the end of an era, and with him, the Leader ushered in a new one. With the breakdown of her relationship with her only friend still weighing heavily on her shoulders, Rosie needed someone new, and the Leader perfectly fit the bill. Her fanfictions are tossed aside momentarily, dangerously teetering on the edge of becoming unfinished multi-chapter slow burners, as Rosie scribbles in her diary about the Leader instead. All she’s ever wanted is a group of friends to call her own, and his club? Rosie’s never wanted in to anything so badly, and that’s saying something.
Rosie’s no stranger to embarrassing herself. She’s been doing it all her life after all. Though now, it’s by choice, begging the Leader for his time of day, tailing him and the group around at lunch time and after school. She never thought she would sink as low as she did though: paying him, making him pity her by telling him all about her pathetic life. She feels a little dirty at first, like she’s hiring him out as some kind of platonic prostitute, but that feeling quickly fades. Having something close to friends greatly outweighs the severe deterioration in funds she suffers.
It’s like a burst of creative genius hits Rosie, all thanks to the Murder Club. They fuel her fanfictions. The students of Hogwarts have never acted so out of character, taking on strangely eerie resemblances to the members of the Murder Club, and focus shifts from Harry to Hermione, who, according to Rosie’s archive of our own account, is young woman with long skinny limbs and a fringe. She listens during their meetings, but just about. Just enough to draw out a draft for the next chapter of her current fanfic.
Then, one day, the Leader declares his love for her and Rosie snaps to attention, pulling away from doodling in the margins of her notebook to look around the room, just to double check that there weren’t any other girls named Rosie around. Certainly an unexpected development … has her high charisma score in DnD transferred into her real life all of a sudden? Maybe she should try to get involved more often, really get her money’s worth. And maybe, just maybe, her story is actually about to begin. She won’t need to indulge in escapism anymore, her sad little existence can become something bigger.
Life, starring Rosie Tuntayakul. She likes the sound of it.
( Congratulations, Brie! Please send in your tumblr blog and your discord to the main in the next 24 hours or THE VIXEN will be reopened )
STATS
Full Name: Mariana Díaz
Faceclaim: Ester Expósito
Age: 17
DOB: August 8
Year in school: Junior
Gender: Cisfemale
Pronouns: She/her
Side of Normal: South Side
Worst fears: Being unloveable
Milkshake order: Dark chocolate cherry
BIO
Everyone at Normal Secondary School knows Mariana Díaz. If they don’t know her personally, they’ve seen her strutting through the halls and they’ve heard the whispers of her escapades within the boys’ locker room. She’s the one you should keep your boyfriend away from. The girl who can shatter a relationship with a quick wink or a well-shot snapchat. Of course, Mariana hasn’t always had this reputation. It’s relatively new, and if you ask anyone in school about Mariana’s past before this year, most wouldn’t be able to place her. Had she been a transfer? There’s no possible way she grew up in Normal, not with that body, those eyes. She would’ve been noticed. Right?
The truth is, Mariana was born and raised in Normal. Originally on the Northside, in a cute house with a white picket fence and three bedrooms for the brothers and sisters she never had. Her parents always wanted a bit of an age gap between their kids, if only to make it easier on them. It’s hell, raising toddlers at the same time. And before her parents could even consider having their next child, her father was taken from the world. He was a truck driver and had an accident on the road. Mariana found out at school, in third grade, when she was pulled out of class by a solemn-looking front desk attendant. Her world had been shattered that day, and forever changed
Mariana had never been close to her mother. No she and her father had a much stronger bond. And when he was gone, things between the two Díaz women grew ever more distant. Money became tight, her mother was barely home due to the incredibly long nursing shifts she’d pick up in order to make ends meet. The two ended up having to move out, and into an apartment on the Southside. Mariana became quiet, someone you wouldn’t notice. At least for her formative years. She blended into the background, sat at the end of the lunch table and ate quietly in peace. Teachers chalked it up to grief. But it was more, it was an absolute hatred of her life.
To escape she read. Books of adventure, of love. She dreamed she was those girls who were swept away in an epic love story. And because she didn’t receive that love from home, she searched for it other places. Her promiscuity began in high school, at a party. She had put on a short skirt, straightened her hair, and it was simple, nice. She had gotten the attention of a rather drunk football player, all while standing against a wall watching everyone else in the room. When the two escaped to a room and he called her beautiful while also forcing her hand between his legs, she let it happen. Because at least for that short amount of time, she was all he was thinking about.
It continued that way. Boys called her easy. It wasn’t dates to Marie’s Diner that she was getting, instead, a quick drive to the empty school parking lot for hookups. Maybe if she was lucky, 20 minutes of a movie at The Sunset Drive-In before lips found their way on her neck. Regardless of their destination, she’d never end up outside of the car. She knew they were just using her, but the high she got when they moaned out her name was always the same. It’s why she kept coming back. Of course, she thought the Alberonie boy would be different. He wasn’t, he was a boy after all. But he did give her something none of the other boys had given her before. Power.
The transformation happened overnight. Mariana woke up with beautiful silky hair, a body that was thin and fit and didn’t require her to break a sweat in order to keep. She watched hours of makeup tutorials online in order to learn how to achieve the perfect cat eye, to know exactly where to place her highlight for maximum dewiness. Red lipstick became her armor. When she walked into school, she wasn’t just noticed, she was desired. By every boy, she passed, by some girls as well. Students who never batted an eye at her, now wanted her to sit at their lunch table. So what if this newfound popularity came with some costs. The loss of her oldest friend and the need to suck boys dry? Fucking worth it.
( Congratulations, Nikki! Please send in your tumblr blog and your discord to the main in the next 24 hours or THE KILLJOY will be reopened )
STATS
Full Name: Emmett Quinn
Faceclaim: KJ Apa
Age: 18
DOB: April 22
Year in school: Senior
Gender: Cismale
Pronouns: He/him
Side of Normal: North Normal
Worst fears: Being stuck in Normal forever
Milkshake order: Black and white, extra whipped cream
BIO
Emmett Quinn was destined to be a Somebody.
In the vein of all those bright and brilliant boys, determined to blaze their own trail through life, he had been definitively Ivy League-bound before he’d been old enough to understand what that really meant, before his parents had thought to think that perhaps their son was rather clever, wasn’t he? (They had always been a little bit slow on the uptake where Emmett was concerned.) He was a Somebody headed Somewhere Important,with a sparkling GPA and a list of extracurriculars that read like Yale clickbait, an overachiever with a specialist study in all things logical, and that, in a town like Normal (that specialised in all things normal) was quite enough to set him apart.
People like Emmett were never really fun at parties, too direct and focused and self-assured, but he’d found his people just as if they’d all been magnetically charged. Between swim-meets and crew practice and the endless list of extracurriculars and volunteering that popped up on his resume, he’d always had a tough time scheduling fun into the mix, but his friends had somehow had a knack for drawing it out of him. Future Somebodies attracted Future Somebodies like a gravitational force and Emmett’s friends had all been destined for something great — they were clever and gifted and witty and athletic. Sure, they weren’t Homecoming Kings and Prom Queens, but his friends held the keys to the future in their hands. Who cared about High School Royalty when you were sitting next to future Senators and Judges? Senior Year was supposed to be their victory lap, his own little clique of the soon to be Ex-Normal’s; next destination anywhere brighter than their hometown.
What happened at the cabin that night didn’t happen to people like them. To people like him.
He maps it out, sometimes, counting down the variables in his head as he makes the familiar drive from the carpark outside the local 7/11 to the cabin and back again, timing it by the clock on his dash. He catalogues every detail, breaks it down to show the workings, and plasters it to the schematics of that night like maybe he might unlock the truth of it if he just keeps looking. Forty-eight minutes is the longest the drive has ever taken him. Forty-eight minutes was the amount of time it took to snuff the brightest stars out of the Senior class in one unsatisfying mystery, leaving behind them only the bitterest taste of mediocrity, dissatisfaction and him.
One beer-run for a party that never-should-have-been and his entire world had been remade, shaped into a configuration he neither liked nor understood, but would grow to know intimately over the months following. He’s combed every inch of the woods around that cabin since, long after the search parties and the murmurs of how tragic it was had all died down. He posted flyers and checked in at the Sheriff’s office and demanded, of everyone in his life, that all of his ambition and his drive be met by something other than a maddening, quiet sense of indifference.
Even now, all these months later, Emmett can’t quite believe that all his bright and brilliant friends could be gone. As his grades and extracurriculars and acceptance letters tumble around him like forgotten toys and the swimteam wish he’d forget their existence, all his competitive spirit and drive seems to have been sunk into that one night, into the false promises of that Junior Deputy program that Emmett suspects they’d shoved under his nose if only to shut him up for a moment. Surely, one of his friends had found their way out of those woods, of whatever trouble had slunk their way that night (footprints that didn’t look like footprints; certainly not coyote tracks, whatever they say.) Surely, if he only digs his heels in and keeps on questioning he’ll find his answers. He always has before.
Except that Junior Deputy position, with all the benefits of cleaning coffee pots and filing paperwork and blatantly eavesdropping and snooping on every little scrap of information he possibly can, has gone and found itself a caveat; babysitting. The Sheriff insists that it’s more like bodyguarding, that the newspaper club has been sticking their noses into dangerous places and wasn’t it better, Emmett, to keep them out of harms way than to deal with another incident.
Emotional manipulation, unfortunately, works just as well as the presence of his friends casefiles piled on the corner of the Sheriff’s desk at motivating him these days. And he isn’t angry, he really isn’t, he might be in the furious throes of a spectacular burn out of all his Ivy potential but he’s not careening off the rails he’s just — focusing. As he always does. He’s shaved seconds off his personal best in the pool and the crew team hates him for their gruelling practices and maybe none of it matters but it has to be better than the dark hole that waits for him if he just stops.
And maybe he doesn’t relish the task of spending the dwindling moments of his senior year chained to a bunch of social misfits with a murky reputation that’s registered through even his obsessive spiral, but keeping himself busy is better than the alternative — to seeing the way that people look at him these days, not like he’s too bright to look at (not anymore) but like he’s plummeting down from lofty heights and might not survive the fall.
But however far he might have fallen, no matter how often he is forced to dodge concerned parental looks and concerned teacher looks and concerned guidance counsellor looks and concerned coach looks, at the very least his association with the murder club lets him console himself that he hasn’t stooped to blaming his problems on yetis and ghosts. If they need someone to point out the obvious while keeping a close eye to make sure they don’t wander too far out of the light than, well, it’s not like Emmett has any friends left to remind him that he isn’t their mother.
( Congratulations, Jess! Please send in your tumblr blog and your discord to the main in the next 24 hours or THE BRUTE will be reopened )
STATS
Full Name: Bryce Evans
Faceclaim: Charles Melton
Age: 17
DOB: April 10
Year in school: Junior
Gender: Cismale
Pronouns: He/him
Side of Normal: North Normal
Worst fears: Becoming irrelevant
Milkshake order: Strawberry with chocolate flecks
BIO
There are plenty of places one’s mind jumps to when they hear the name Bryce Evans - spoiled, annoying, a fucking dick – and really all of them are pretty damn accurate. The worst part about it? There’s a part of Bryce that’s always taken a twisted joy in being reasonable hated since, you know what they say, there’s no such thing as bad press. Kind words or poisonous curses, Bryce is happy so long as he’s being talked about and for the most part, it seems that desire is pretty well met by classmates from classroom to classroom and from all corners of the hall. If people aren’t falling in love with his killer smile, they’re talking about how much of a terror he is and truth be told, he eats it up.
When Bryce was born, his parents saw ambition, a chance for their legacy to live on in the form of their spawn and to wear the Evans name with pride. As he grew up though, that didn’t really seem to stick. At least, that’s what his father told him one night after one too many whiskey straights and after Bryce had done something to particular get on the old man’s nerves. Generally, his parents don’t pay him much mind and he doesn’t give a shit.
Well, that’s what Bryce tells people, cause everyone knows that giving a shit just isn’t cool anymore. Instead, he lies to himself, saying it’s better this way and at least this way they’re out of his hair, allowing him to host some of the most obnoxious ragers known to man. And so what if his parents don’t want to be a part of that? He’s managed – usually – with the help of dear friends who for some reason always felt like his company was worth all the bullshit they put up with to keep him around.
All that changed once Tommy died though. Secluded from those who could potentially witness any showing of emotion, Bryce had his first big breakdown that night. Not that anyone noticed and of course, afterward, he wiped away his tears and stiffened that upper lip because dammit, he needed answers. That’s when he got involved with them, the Murder Club, a little group he was tipped off about Tommy hanging around with The Jock before his best friend’s tragic end. Now, would he have rather just busted in there and started knocking skulls together until he got the answers he wanted? Sure, but that didn’t seem likely. So, instead, Bryce decided to link up with the little ragtag group of weirdos and residential annoyances, at least for now.
THE SUBMIT IS CLOSED!!! Thanks so much for playing! We’re so grateful for the interest and effort you’ve all put forth into your apps and can’t wait to have you with us. Results shall be up shortly!
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