#normal:event1

[kazcaldwell]

bruh u comin to tommy boys today?

KAZ MY MAN! see you in the water, bitch ass.

kaz i s2g if you don’t show up today i’mm gonna nut check you on monday

hey cutie, are you going to tommy’s? i’m only going in the pool if you do lol :)

They kept coming, all morning. Kaz hated to be a complainer, especially about something that was clearly a privileged problem, but he wanted to throw his phone at the wall. He would’ve done it, if he thought his parents would shell out the money to buy him a new one. As it was, they never would, and he really didn’t want to spend all Summer mowing lawns to buy some shitty iPhone 4 from the local pawn store.

He’d gone ghost on them. He showed up to practice, but his mind was never really there. When they didn’t see him on the field, it was like he’d never existed at all. He had disappeared to live in a different universe - one full of the monsters that Jamie described in that old, stuffy classroom. He couldn’t understand how everyone else went on with their lives in a world that seemed foreign to him now.

It was almost nice, if he thought about it. They cared enough to text him, knowing he hadn’t answered in weeks. They wanted to see his face. They missed him. Maybe they even worried about him. One of them had told the others to help get Kaz out of the graveyard that day, and there they were, all bombarding him with texts until he couldn’t say ‘no’.

He went to the pool party, but there was a newly grown stubborn part of him that refused to have fun. He was a miserable sight in bright flamingo board shorts, holding a cup of stale Sprite and laying prone on the white trim that surrounded the pool. The concrete was rough, like sandpaper against the skin of his back, and it made him uncomfortable enough that he could consider it unenjoyable. His own personal punishment for daring to be there at all.

People came over to speak to him and then quickly vanished once they realized they’d somehow entered a depressing Twilight Zone episode where Kaz played the role of Death. He was there to kill the party.

It was only Johnnie that persevered despite Kaz’s unwillingness to play along. The sun had wound down and Tommy was announcing part two of the evening. Kaz could hear Johnnie approaching; he was talking to some girl. Kaz couldn’t see her, but he knew she was blonde without looking.

Without much warning, Johnnie was straddling his waist and slapping his face. He said something about being Kaz’s ‘wake-up call’. Kaz was bringing them all down and it was high time he nutted up and buried his emotions like a real man. Johnnie’s invitation to the warehouse was more of a command, and Kaz, like he always would, dutifully followed it.

The warehouse was dark and humid. It smelled of old, rotting wood, cheap acrylic paint, and the perfume some 14 year old had too heavily doused herself in. Johnnie pressed two bright orange handprints to either side of Kaz’s face, smooshing his cheeks together and blurting out something crass about getting fucked up, or fucking, or both.

To Johnnie’s credit, it took him nearly an hour before he decided to take matters into his own hands. Kaz was vaguely aware, through the flickering black light, that Johnnie was whispering in the blonde girl’s ear, while the two both looked in his direction. She blinked in and out of existence with the strobe lights as she approached him. He wasn’t ready for her mouth to be on his, let alone her tongue down his throat. She left pink claw marks on his tshirt where she grabbed it, pulling him close until she could successfully lodge the pill far back in his mouth.

He sputtered as she pulled away. He hurked like a cat about to vomit, but Johnnie shoved a bottle of water into his hand before he could, with nothing but a wink and a “have fun”. He and the blonde disappeared into the crowd like mischievous imps.

Kaz downed half the water, moving along the wall to the corner of the room. When his eyes found Johnnie again, so close despite having walked the opposite way, he was astounded that whatever had been shoved down his throat had worked that fast, but then -- No, that wasn’t Johnnie. Not with that surly look on his face.

“Jamie?” he asked, squinting into the purple dimness. “Your face looks how I feel. What’re you doing here?”

@devilsward

[screamqvccn]

It wasn’t difficult to guess that Edwina didn’t get invited to many parties. Tommy’s invitation had only been extended to her because their parents were church friend. On top of that, the only reason she got ushered into the warehouse for the after party was due to Raquel making sure to snatch her hand and drag her along for the ride. Maybe Edwina needed to let loose a little, but the girl would have at least like 48 hours notice about a teen rave before going. That way she had proper time to mentally prepare herself and give a pep talk in the mirror.

The girl had little intentions going in on joining in truth or dare, but when Tommy stormed every nook and cranny of the party to get people to play, she felt she had little choice as she was yanked away by Tommy and his friends chanting, “Clussy! Clussy! Clussy!” 

Everything seemed to move dramatically quick as Edwina felt herself being shooed into a closet with Jamie. It was empty, as expected, but she could only assume it was used to store cleaning supplies when the building used to actually be occupied. Her protests for going in the closet were ignored as the group ring leading the game pulled the steel door shut in her face. 

Edwina immediately regretted stepping into that party once her and Jamie got dared to partake in a good ol’ fashion game of 7 Minutes in Hell Heaven. Of course everyone would get a kick out of putting the two weird kids in there like they were trying to bred two really awkward horses. It was horrifying to know shoving her in there with him was malicious, but not as horrifying as the realizations he might have to kiss someone and that someone was Jamie.

“Soooooo…” she finally spoke to break the painfully weird silence. She really didn’t want to do this, and it was hard to hide it on her face. For starters Jamie probably did not own a tongue scraper so his oral hygiene was not up to par with the kind of person she’d want to share a kiss with. “… How’s Satan been? The wife and kids doing alright?” she asked, hoping her attempt to stall wasn’t too obvious.

// @devilsward

[devilsward]

Jamie didn’t expect a lot from Tommy Richter’s party. It was hosted by Tommy Richter and his friends who’ve spent the majority of their time making fun of him for having a comb over and liking Halloween more than the average ghoul. The unoriginality combined with the heat and overwhelming amount of illicit substances circulating the place should’ve kept Jamie far, far away from it but he wasn’t going to be one to pass up the opportunity to harangue his peers while they were at their most vulnerable. Half-naked, drunk, tired. He had to hand it to the jocks and cool kids in Normal for knowing how to make his job easier. Everyone was far more willing to answer his prying questions about Darleen Tiller once their common sense was drenched in cheap vodka and a tireless loop of Post Malone.

He found out what she liked, what she didn’t like. Who she was dating and what they were doing during mass on Wednesdays. Admittedly, some of the lewd details he could’ve lived without, but Jamie wouldn’t be one to turn down gossip. He never knew when something would come in handy, like the sight of the Mayor’s son trying to merge in with the crowd like he was any more one of them than Jamie was or the Sheriff’s daughter looking like she’d gotten into the refreshments without knowing that they were probably not all that fresh.

Jamie wasn’t looking for her, but he couldn’t miss the halo of her hair or the florescent glow of her lips opening and closing around air like a guppy as she missed the straw to her drink each time she went for it. He watched for a while until the well of humor dried up enough for him to approach her without looking like Johnnie. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, holding the straw steady for her. “What happened to 'not rebelling’? Looks to me like you’re being mighty rebellious.”

@violet-matthews

[hollys-eve]

Holly had never been to a party before and she was slowly realizing that this was not the place she really wanted to be. There were sweaty bodies crammed together in the darkness, illuminated only by the glow of the black light. She wasn’t even sure why she had come tonight. At least it was a way of wasting the hours until she inevitably snuck back up the fire escape and through her open window. 

There had been a glow or get our policy which made the situation worse. She hated the way the black light paint felt on her skin as she dodged in and out of crowded party goers. At least they hadn’t made her wear shoes, though the swimsuit felt awkward when they weren’t anywhere near the water anymore. Sitting by the pool and people watching hadn’t been all bad, but every bump of a stranger made her skin crawl.

People were drunk, passing around brightly colored slushies that looked sickeningly sweet and smelled like booze. In her entire life she had only ever had alcohol once and that was because Maggie had poured her a glass of wine as a birthday celebration. It tasted like sour grapes and she’d poured it down the sink when she thought no one was looking.

Getting ready to pack up and leave, Holly stumbled into a gaggle of teenage boys, drunkenly shouting and full of excitement. She was about to turn around and leave when she made awkward eye contact with the only one of them she knew past a first name basis. There was Kaz, completely in his element. 

She felt like she was in middle school again. Surrounded by sports ball bullies. Not wanting to interrupt, but sure it would be a social fuck up to not at least acknowledge that they had seen each other, she gave him a quick wave.

@kazcaldwell

[frvnchies]

@devilsward​ — Everything at this party was so loud. Even if she could talk, it wasn’t as if anyone would be able to hear her; in a way, it was comforting. Here, everyone was in the same boat as her. Even so, she’d lost Theo about a half hour ago, and he was the only one around who’d sign with her. And so she’d been left to wander, freezies clutched in her hand until her gaze caught on pale hair and dark skin. Eyes lighting up in recognition, she followed a wobbly line toward her newest target, nearly tripping and falling over the wedges on her feet with every careless step. By the time she arrived, it was a miracle she hadn’t taken a tumble onto the sticky warehouse floor. 

“Jamie — Johnnie? — Jamie,” she signed indecisively, squinting in the low light of the warehouse. She was a few drinks deep, which was not nearly enough to deal with this. A few drinks too deep, it seemed, to remember that Johnnie would have no idea what she was saying; at best, Jamie might recognize his own name somewhere amongst the mess. Taking a quick, sweeping glance of his posture and expression, Frenchie relaxed slightly when she made a calculation that it was Jamie and not his twin. This, of course, quickly devolved into confusion as she remembered where they were. A party hosted by Tommy Richter wasn’t exactly the first place she’d look for Jamie — it didn’t even rank on the top five. Brow furrowed, Frenchie fumbled with her board for a moment before pushing it toward his face. why are u here, it read, her neat handwriting a sloppier than usual. this isn’t really ur scene is it? 

[murderclubhq]

EVENT 1 // BLACKLIGHT PARTY (CONCLUSION)

The party was a wide success and for a moment, you really feel like it was the best idea to come from the jocks yet. It was messy but enjoyable and you’re certainly not thinking of Darleen Tiller anymore when all that’s pounding in your head is the latest Kygo remix. Your heart is light and your spirits are high, thrumming with the thrill of seeing all your friends so happy.

As the sun hovered on the edge of the horizon and the crowd thinned out, you feel good about heading home for the night, ready for the last few weeks of school before Summer vacation when a blood curdling scream stops you from leaving.

You begrudgingly turn back towards the warehouse, head dizzy with exhaustion and vision hazy from the freezies Tommy and his friends handed out earlier in the night. You’ve no interest in an after party. You’ve had your fun.

“BLOOD!” the girl shrieks and it snaps you out of your stupor. Her hysteria spreads quick like wildfire as all the lights shudder on in the warehouse, illuminating the dance floor with hot, florescent lights.

Covered from wall-to-wall is a gruesome smattering of blood and guts. Eyeballs rolled out of the red Solo cups you saw your friends play beer pong with and the strings you thought were streamers were someone’s small intestine. You think you’re going to be sick and the need to look for your friends rockets up your spine.

You find one. She’s wide-eyed and panicked but mostly alright aside from being terrified of how quickly the night was turning. You feel relief for a moment until you see the smear of blood on her cheeks where you remembered painting flowers on her earlier. Your stomach sinks into your bowels as fear grips you tightly. All the things you’ve drawn on her had been beautiful under the black light but all they looked like now was incriminating evidence. Your first thought is ‘what are my parents gonna think?’

Then, you get another thought.

Trembling with anxiety, you take a look at your own hands. They’re red.

Your scream joins the others.

It’s pandemonium.

OOC //

Admin Notes: That concludes our first event! Thanks so much for participating! Please try to finish up all threads concerning the party, however, feel free to continue post-party be it hours after/morning/at school. Stay tuned for news of the murders.

[screamqvccn]

The party was rather loud and dark. Edwina had lost herself in the crowd and was desperately reaching out around her to make sure she wouldn’t bump into anyone. It was a good plan until she touched someone a little too sweaty and felt the ick on her hands. Edwina held in a barf before elbowing herself to the nearest ladder to climb to the significantly less crowded second floor.

Edwina slammed her hand against the nearest wall, coughing and spewing up all the hypochondria that had built up since the party started. At least there was no one around to see her like this, or so it seemed. Maybe there was still hope she could get invited to another party.

Her sense of being alone was quickly chucked out when she noticed familiar red locks and a face full of freckles. “Hi-lly!” she practically choked, pounding her own chest with her fist as she got a last cough out. It was an accidental mishmash of combining “hi” and the other girl’s name. She hoped Holly wouldn’t think she talked like she had a stroke. “Uh. . . I didn’t know you were here! What have you been up to?”

// @hollys-eve

[frvnchies]

@abby-rosenthal — Under any normal circumstances, clumsy was hardly the first word someone would use to describe Frenchie. Graceful, perhaps, as she glided across the pageant stage; stuck-up on a bad day, when her sneer was ever-present on her face. But there’s always a first for everything, so it seemed that today was Frenchie’s day to bear the brunt of being uncoordinated for once in her life. Desperately, she searched the crowd for any semblance of a familiar face — and as a direct answer to her prayers, none other than Abby Rosenthal herself emerged from the masses. If there was anything for certain in life, it was this: death, taxes, and the fact that Abby would inevitably have anything she could ever possibly need hidden somewhere in her ever-present backpack. As such, Frenchie made a beeline for the brunette, planting herself directly in Abby’s path to ensure there was no mistaking her intentions.

ABBY!!! I’M DYING, she scribbled in greeting, drama etched in every facet of her expression as she shoved her board toward the other girl. Tell me you have a band-aid, she added, looking for all the world like she truly believed that she needed fifty stitches. When she held up the offending injury, though, only a tiny bit of blood trickled down her finger from a thin little cut. Though the reveal was anticlimactic, there was no denying the fervor with which Frenchie was pleading her case. “Please,” she signed, the pout on her face rivaling that of an unruly toddler.