Description

Heaven Knows ♫ Innocence ♫ I'm So Sick ♫ Mad Hatter ♫ Secret ♫ Im With You
{"There is no beauty without some strangeness."}

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▐ ❖| N A M E |
"My lovely parents decided the names 'Briar' and 'Rose' went flawlessly with the last name 'Montague'. I disagree."
| N I C K N A M E |
"My close friends can call me Bri or Rose. To everyone else, I'm Briar."
| A G E |
"I will be 18 soon, but until then, I'm stuck as a minor."
| G E N D E R |
"My boobs should give that away, but in case you aren't of at least average intelligence, I'm a girl."
| E T H N I C I T Y |
"I'm as white as Casper... I haven't the slightest clue where that whiteness comes from though..."
| B I R T H D A T E |
"Born July 18th. I'm officially cancerous."
♋
| S E X U A L I T Y |
"Chicks and di- uh. Men and women are both hot. So yeah..."

{"My biggest fear is that eventually you will see me the way I see myself."}

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| H E I G H T |
"Yes I'm short. Yes I'm over 5 foot. Yes I realize its only by 2 inches but it still fucking counts."
| W E I G H T |
"Right between You and Wish... Fine... I'm 125ish."
| E Y E C O L O R |
"That perfect mix between the sky and the grass."
| H A I R C O L O R |
"Depends on the day. Today it's blonde. Yesterday it was brown. Tomorrow it could be purple. Who knows?"
| A P P E A R A N C E |
"I'm a sexy short girl with curves in the right places, no weird bulging parts. I have washboard abs... ok you got me, but my stomach is semi toned. I tend to wear dark makeup because it makes people uncomfortable and that's just hilarious. And of course dark makeup goes great with leather, spikes, plaid, ripped jeans, and the occasional lacey number. And cant forget the combat boots!"
| O D D I T I E S |
"I do have a tattoo of a rose, but you will never see it unless you buy me dinner first. Just kidding its on my hip bone. I also have a weirdly shaped birthmark that kind of resembles Africa on the back of my thigh. Oh and a few scars on my arms... I wont say what those are from..."

{"I'm a grown ass woman and I do what I want."}

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▐ ❖| P E R S O N A L I T Y |
✦ Flirtatious ✧ Guarded ✦ Loud ✧ Reckless ✦

"I guess you could say I'm a slut... I mean I don't see the point in settling down when it would make dying hurt so much more. It's a hell of a lot easier to do whatever the hell you want when you don't have a ring on your finger too. But I do still get attached sometimes, usually not for long, but that's not the point. The point is I have feelings and you probably won't ever know what they are. Why let everyone know your weakness?

Anyways, I'm not as innocent as I look before putting my face on in the mornings. I'm a rebel child with an addictive personality. I guess I'm also kind of a thrill seeker, adrenaline junkie, whatever you wanna call it. Illegal shit turns me on. I like to try new things, always up for an adventure, even the stupid ones like breaking into the mall after hours. No I didn't do that. Not yet. Wanna go?"

{"Die with memories, not dreams."}

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| P O W E R |
"I'm what some people call a vampire, although its not blood that I need, it's power. When I touch someone, I can do what they do. I can burn someone, read a thought, or dodge a fatal wound thanks to someone else's invincibility. I believe the correct term is an energy vampire. But what do I know? I'm not a scientist. I'm a freak. I guess it's only fair that I get stuck with a power that isn't even mine, it's someone else's. Karma I guess... since the one thing I really want is something I cant give myself..."
| S T R E N G T H S |
✦Clever - "I can sweet talk my way out of almost anything, except maybe theft so let's not get caught."
✧Curious - "If I haven't been there and done that, you can bet your sweet ass I'm planning the trip."
✦Brave - "Nothing really scares me anymore, not after all I have been through."
✧Loving - "As long as you don't piss me off, I will try my best to make sure you are happy."
✦Self Reguation - "My emotions won't hold me back. I do what I have to to survive, regardless of how I feel about it"
| W E A K N E S S E S |
✦Reckless - "I do what I want, even if it may not be smart."
✧Guarded - "No one can really get inside this sexy shell."
✦Unforgiving - "Screw me once, I fuck you up. End of story."
✧No Hope - "The world is fucked and we all know it. Stop acting like it's gonna get any better than this."
✦Playful - "Being serious is for pricks and boring old people. Fun is where it's at."

{"I often miss the little girl whose dreams had no barriers, who believed in a world where anything was possible with a heart that was full and unbroken."}

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▐ ❖| H O B B I E S |
✦Music - "Momma always told me I had the voice of an angel, guess she meant a fallen angel."
✧Art - "Doodling is how I release the beast. Can't exactly purge... yet."
✦Shopping - "A girl's gotta look her best. Can't have fun if you look like Ugly Betty."
| H A B I T S |
✧Humming - "La da da... do do da... Sorry was I doing that again?"
✦Zoning Out - "Dude I'm in my happy place. You don't want to pull me out of it."
✧Pushing People Away - "You wouldn't like the real me anyways. I'm doing you a favor."
| L I K E S |
✦Snakes - "They have that evil yet graceful air about them."
✧Loud Music - "Why would anyone listen to shit at low volume?"
✦Driving - "Freedom just feels good."
✧Fire - "There's just something comforting about a flame."
✦Forest - "The solitude feel nice, like the world is empty and you can be free to be yourself."
| D I S L I K E S |
✦Kids - "Just don't ask... Please..."
✧Cops - "These guys just rub me wrong."
✦Cats - "Why? Um... Have you ever been in the same room as a cat?"
✧Big Crowds - "Just don't like a bunch of twats in my bubble."
✦Bad Smells - "If you fart, I just might throat punch you."
| G O A L S |At least three. Repeat if needed.
✦Leaving - "Too many bad memories in this town."
✧Dying With A Bang - "If I have to go out anyways, why not make it badass?"
✦Fame - "I wanna share my music with the world, otherwise what's the point in writing?"
| F E A R S |At least three. Repeat if needed.
✧Commitment - "Tried it, didn't work out."
✦Being Forgotten - "No one wants to just rot and be done with."
✧Opening Up - "If I let you in, it won't be pretty."

{"The butterflies he used to give me turned into tiny little feet."}

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| H I S T O R Y |
"My parents were high school sweethearts. They knew from the start that they would get married. Dad decided he wanted to 'do his duty' and joined the marines right after I was born. I didn't see him again until I was 5, even then it wasn't very long. Mom and me were taken care of though. I got whatever toys I wanted and we had a nice house with a pool. I was a happy fucking kid, you know?

Things were great until I hit high school. I made new friends that were probably too mature for me. I even met a guy my sophomore year and was totally in love. I was convinced he would be the one I married, just like my mom so long ago. He was amazing. After dating all of my sophomore year, I gave myself to him completely. It was everything I thought it would be and more. He wasn't pushy or rough. He listened. A few weeks later, he was out with some friends celebrating his 18th birthday. They got drunk, of course, and... I cant believe I'm telling you this but uh... He ran his truck off a bridge...

I was broken up for months, still am actually. He was the first and last person I ever really trusted with everything I am and feel. A month after his funeral, I found out I was pregnant. When I told my mom, she broke down crying. She called my dad and he said I was no longer welcome here. So I left. I went to my cousin Ashley's house. She is a nurse at the hospital so she hardly ever was home, which I loved. No one to see me fall apart. One night I woke up in horrible pain and Ashley took me to the ER. I miscarried. Apparently my body isn't made to carry a pregnancy and the fact that I even made it to 7 weeks was a miracle. Talk about bad news..."
| F A M I L Y T I E S |
Marissa Montague - Mother - Age: 40 - Alive - FC: Jennifer Aniston
Tony Montague - Father - Age: 40 - Alive - FC: Mark Wahlberg
Ashley Jackson - Cousin - Age: 40 - Alive - FC: Hayden Panettiere

{"We all get addicted to something that takes away the pain."}

| F C |
Taylor Momsen
| C O L O R |
#0B615E
| P R O T R A Y E D B Y |
KaylaInell

Sheet Ⓒ of CutUp

So begins...

Briar Rose Montague's Story

Seen 9 Times • Page 1 of 1

Setting

Point Place, Maine

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#2016-03-19 22:53:32, as written by CutUp

♫ Echoes ♫

Friday October 14th, 4:20 PM

Matt sat there at one of the tables outside of the school cafeteria by himself. He had his nose in a book, Isaac Asimov's Prelude to Foundation, and with his usual hood held over his head. He was the first one there at their agreed meeting spot. Him, and the rest of the gang of misfits had decided to go out, and visit the teacher, Mr. Walsh, that was watching them during detention during the Storm, well mostly them, Matt had just sat there, and nodded his head. No one has seen him since, or heard anything from him since the Storm. They needed to know if he was also affected by the Storm.

Matt then began to idly chew on the draw string of his hoodie as he continued to wait. "Well, well, well what do we have here?" A familiar voice to Matt called out to him from behind. Matt gave no reaction, and continued to stare forward. "Hey Freak I'm talking to you!" Then a hand came up, and smacked Matt on the back of his head. It was Mike Logan, probably Matt's most frequent bully. Mike was a smooth operator, being able to talk himself out of any trouble, and well loved by most of the schools. He was the reason why Matt was in detention to begin with. Mike still had a slight bruise on his chin from when Matt clocked him. Though Matt got a few good licks in, it was Mike who won the fight.

Matt glanced up at Mike with an uninterested look on his face. "What Mike?" Matt asked a soft, and timid tone. Mike then yanked the book out of Matt's hands, and tossed it aside on the ground. "So I've been thinking about when you sucker punched me. And I gotta say, I don't like it. Especially that lesbo bitch yelling at me afterwards. I don't really appreciate it." Mike stated as he hopped up on the table. "Don't call her that. I didn't tell her to do anything. I told her to drop it." Matt told him, his voice ever so slightly raising. "Don't tell me what to do Greenie! Beside, that bitch is just a stupid cu-" Matt then shot out of his chair, and slammed his hands on the table. "Don't call her that!" Matt demanded as he tightly clinched his fists.

Mike hopped off the table, and sized Matt up. "Well look who grew a pair!" Mike had one or two inches on Matt, but to Matt it seemed like feet. After staring one another down intensely, Matt backed down, and brought his gaze to the ground. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Don't you EVER talk to me like that again Freak." Mike then proceeded to shove Matt, but Matt didn't budge an inch. It was like trying to push a brick wall. Mike raised an eyebrow at this, and saw that some of the others were starting to come. "We'll finish this later Door Matt." Mike whispered in Matt's ear before he left.

Matt clinched his jaw, and sat back down, averting his eyes from the others. "Umm......hi." Matt greeted rather awkwardly, still unable to look them in the face. Matt took in a deep gulp as he took quick glances up at his 'friends'. What an odd group of friends. If he can even call them that. Most of them are complete strangers, having only seen them when walking pass them in the halls. Then there was Max, he does consider her a friend. Though he's not sure why she can say the same when she hardly knows anything about him.

Matt got up, and picked up his book. "So....is everyone ready to go?" Matt asked. "Does....anyone have a car? I don't think Max's car can hold us all....though I guess Huxley can just run.....and maybe Jessica can teleport? And Dustyn could turn into a bird or something." Matt suggested. He folded his arms, and held them close to his chest rather uncomfortably. Those were probably the most words he has said to most of them. Matt opened, and closed his right hand as the others talked. His body still felt rather weird, he felt like he weighed as much as a tank, and just as strong as one.

Meanwhile as the group was gathering an unknown man watched them from afar. He rode in a blacked out SUV, with the drivers side window rolled halfway down. He held a camera in his hands, and was taking pictures of the group. Focusing particularly on Matt, Magdalene Atwood, Minx Monroe, and Myung Sung-Jae. He was rather out of the way, no way the teens could see him watching him.

After several more pictures his cell phone began to vibrate. The man placed his camera in the passenger's seat, and calmly picked up his phone. He received a text message from someone simply referred to as 'The Boss'.
{From: The Boss}
{They're going to the teacher's house. Get there first, and set up surveillance. It's an important moment for them.}
The man sighed as he put his phone down, and drove away. "It's gonna be one of those days." The man sighed, his voice sounding like thunder.

Setting

Point Place, Maine

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#2016-03-21 02:27:02, as written by Starlight77

Color ||#b300ff

The morning was like any other. The alarm on her phone caused the device to vibrate, which sent Duke into action. The large, beast of a dog leapt onto Max’s bed and immediately started licking her face until she awoke with a disgusted “ugh!”. She shoved him off, rolling the mutt onto the other side of the bed. Knowing he did his job, Duke simply laid there, his big pink tongue flapping in and out of his mouth. Max’s father told her that Duke was a mixture between a Siberian Husky and German Shepherd, but Max is pretty sure there’s some Tibetan Mastiff in his genes. The dog is massive; on his hind legs, his paws reach the girl’s shoulders.

Max knew she had to get up; if not, her brute of a dog would just drown her in slobber once more. She started her day like most others: filling her empty house with loud music and dancing through her morning routine. A quick shower, doing her hair, getting dressed, making breakfast, and feeding Duke. Of course, she couldn’t resist giving the dog a couple of nibbles of her own food; she knew it wasn’t healthy, but those puppy dog eyes broke her down every time.

Once she was ready to go, Max opened the front door, only to have Duke bolt out and leap into Max’s car. “Sorry, big boy. You should stay home for today.” The dog whined, flattening his ears, practically pouting. Max let out a dry laugh and sat down in front of the wheel. “Fine, fine. You can come.” He let out an elated bark, his tail thumping against the leather seat.

There was always something about driving with the top down that felt… empowering. Not just thrilling, but strengthening. It felt like she was flying with the wind tearing through her hair, with Duke sticking his head over the side, tongue flopping out. Her speakers were blasting one of her favorite songs. She sang along loudly, practically shouting the words.

It was easy to spot the group she was to meet with. By the time she had parked her car and started walking over, the douche-dick that had gotten her that detention was picking on Matt. This made her clench her jaw in frustration. She strutted over, head high and shoulders wide. Duke trotted alongside her, his face serious and his chest puffed out. It was as if he could sense that Max wanted to show dominance, so he went along with it. Before she had even reached the group, the bully was storming off. Her steely-gold gaze followed him, but her jaw relaxed. She crouched down for a moment and put her hand on Duke’s head. He perked up, tail wagging and tongue flopping. “Duke, why don’t you go play with our friend over there.” Duke’s body language changed just with the inflection of the way she said “play”. He grew stiff and took up a dominant body posture once more, waiting. “Go.” And it was as if he was a thoroughbred being let out of the gates. Duke was off like a bullet, darting after the guy, barking wildly with fangs baring. The bully immediately shouted and ran, Duke nipping at his heels.

Max approached the group with a broad smile on her face. She just caught the end of Matt’s sentence. “..Does....anyone have a car? I don't think Max's car can hold us all....though I guess Huxley can just run.....and maybe Jessica can teleport? And Dustyn could turn into a bird or something.” She put her arm around Matt’s shoulder, despite the boy being taller than her. Her boots did add an inch or two.

Her gold eyes surveyed the group, counting how many there were. “Let’s see… We’ve got… nine people, minus Dusty, Huxleberry, and moi…” She said to herself, trying to figure out how many people she could fit in her car.

“No can do, boss- so far, I've only been able to teleport places I've actually been before. And I'm not in the habit of stalking teachers, so… Still, I can always sit on someone's lap if needs be.”

Jess. Max felt her heart skip a beat, like something out of a shitty romcom. That one night… God, she’d fucked that up bigtime. She probably rushed the poor girl and scared her off; the blonde was out of the door before Max had the chance to offer her coffee. Although she had liquor in her veins, Max remembered that night vividly. The feeling of her pale, soft skin… Her nails digging into Max’s shoulders… The noises she made…

It was as if a jolt of electricity was sent arcing up her spine. Despite the warmth she felt in her face, Max still managed to open her smart mouth, “Well, my lap is open if you’re willing.” That clever smirk creased her lips. A sharp bark in the distance got her attention. Duke trotted over; she could see a slight bit of denim in his mouth. The bully had been wearing jeans. She leaned down and grabbed his cheeks, giving the mutt a kiss on the nose. “Gooood boy. Good boy.” She patted his head before standing up and looking back at them.

“Regardless, this doesn’t fix the problem. I can only bring five people maximum in my car… Where are we going, anyways? Where’s this teacher live? God, I can’t even remember who it was. Can being struck by lightning cause memory loss?” She let out a laugh, albeit it was nervous, as she rubbed her temples.

Setting

Point Place, Maine

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#2016-03-31 12:09:07, as written by VitaminHeart

There weren't a huge number of things that could leave Maggie Atwood speechless. Ever since her transfer to Point Place much of the school had been subject to her running commentary and expression of fascinating facts about unsolved murders or pagan burial practices or spontaneous human combustion. Today was different. Today Magdalene had been...uncharacteristically quiet. Of course being addressed was still enough to stoke the young woman into conversation... but it was a little unusual to see the regular chatterbox so comparatively muted.

Superpowers were all well and good, but you had to actually know what they were in order to use them effectively...and up until pretty recently Mags had had no idea what kind of ability she'd been bestowed with, or indeed if she'd been given anything at all. The idea that some freak storm had bestowed x-men shit on every random bastard except her seemed like the kind of thing that might happen.

Except she'd worked it out. Completely by accident mind you.

Maggie had read stuff about synchronicity before, how unrelated events might line up together in strange, nearly deterministic ways...and it was an impressive stroke of luck in many ways that she were to get a superpower of that nature just before she was going to need it. Evenso, Magdalene could not help but feel like she moderately preferred the annoyance of not knowing that you had any kind of superpower, to the events that had led up to her working hers out.

Jacked zipped up and an aged-looking purple keffiyeh scarf draped round her neck, the figure of miss Atwood slipped out of a side door and over to the group, affixing a moderately socially acceptable smile on her face before she got close enough...albeit it was a little strained as it became clear that they were going to have a degree of canine company.

Supposedly the plan was to go seek out the teacher, assuming he'd not turned into a pumpkin or a pick-up truck or been dropped through a wormhole. Who knew. She'd be willing to bet anything by this point.

"Don't panic everyone, I'm here." she remarked, rather flippantly, before flopping back against the wall, calculating her apparent carelessness to make sure she had a decent number of people stood between her and some hairy death machine.
"What did I miss? Anyone started to fight crime yet, because honestly the lot of you are way behind the curve with that. We're getting into 'uncle dying' territory at this point and no-one wants that to start going off, so someone should probably go falcon punch a mugger this afternoon just to be safe."

She hunched forwards, arms folded over her chest and booted feet crossing each other.

Alright, so quiet was still not that quiet.

Setting

Point Place, Maine

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#2016-04-01 05:40:00, as written by rubytuesday

CLEMENTINE KIDO
hex; #a0c7b4XXXlXattire; xXXXlXsong; x

Fourth period always seemed to move with a particular sluggishness, the ache of the period prior still dull and brooding, coupled with the knowledge that there was still another to go.

Kido tucked a lock of silky black behind her ear, only for it to tumble back towards her face. She liked the easiness of her short hair, the little effort it required -but she could not deny that her bob's irritating persistence could be grating after a long enough space of tucking, and falling. Tucking, and falling.

The door opened, and there was a young boy. Dark and small with eyes like a startled deer. He walked towards the lecturing professor, head bowed shyly as he passed on the slip of paper. Professor Gaffney read the paper with a funnel between his brows, and looked up through smudged spectacles. "Kido? You're wanted at the office."

Immediately everything was hushed whispers and curious chatter. And Kido stood up amidst intrigued gazes, and walked to the office with blossoming rumors trailing behind her like a murmuring cloak.

She walked into the office, and saw her mother. She frowned, and spoke perplexed. "Mom? What are you doing here?" Her mother balled the handkerchief in her hands, looked up at her with damp eyes. "Oh, honey. It's- it's Aunt May."

Kido frowned some more, knowing perfectly well that she did not, and never had possessed any such Aunt. Nonetheless, she followed her mother out of the office, getting into her car with a sigh of annoyed realization.

"So, we got you out of that hell hole, huh? What did you think of my acting?" "Good enough to put Keith Richards to shame." "Keith Richards? He's not an actor." "Exactly."

Her mother pouted, before grinning merrily, squeezing Kido's shoulder with one hand whilst she drove. "Anyway, Snippy, I was thinking McDonald's? For a treat." "What's the occasion?" Her mother looked offended, but she hid it -badly- behind a layer of nonchalance. "Do I need a reason to treat my daughter?"

You got dumped again, didn't you?

Kido didn't say it aloud, and when her mother bought her a happy meal, she ate everything despite not being hungry. She humored her mother as the woman made jokes about the large gentleman sitting beside them, ensuring herself that he probably couldn't hear them, or even if he could, he wouldn't know that they were talking about him. Kido didn't completely believe herself, but she pretended to, and as her mother took her to bumper cars, and bought her an ice cream, and then clothes shopping, she tried not to pay attention to the fact her mother's card maxing out in front of a number of other impatient and judgmental customers.

By the time her mother finally dropped her off back at school, Kido was exhausted from feigning cheer.

She walked into the room just in time to catch the end of Magdalene's quip, and she raised her hand in casual wryness. "I offer my services. On the house."

Setting

Point Place, Maine

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#2016-04-12 17:26:25, as written by CutUp

♫ Ghost ♫

Matt flinched slightly as Max wrapped her arm around him. He appeared even more uncomfortable being touched. But there was nothing he could really do. Max was Max, she does whatever she wants. He rolled his eyes when she made a comment about her lap being open for Jess. As the others began talking, and Max's dog Duke joined them. Matt lightly patted the dog on the head, who then proceeded to lick his hand. Matt watched as Octavia joined them, gravitating towards Max. When Octavia jumped from Huxley's entrance, and clung to Max's arm he saw this as his chance, and ducked underneath Max's other arm to get away.

With everyone there, and discussing riding arrangements Matt rubbed the back of his head. "Ok.....so we'll ride in Max's, and Jonathan's car, while Huxley, and Dustyn get there their own ways." He summarized it up. "I know where Mr. Walsh lives, I looked it up last night." He stated. "If everybody's ready, then we should go on."

And with that everyone loaded up in the respected cars. Matt got into Max's car, taking the front seat with Duke sitting on his lap. It was a short twelve minute drive to Mr. Walsh's house. He lived in a small residential area, with only a few neighboring houses. As they pulled into the driveway the curtains of the window next to the door shuttered slightly as someone had watched them pull in, and quickly moved away. Matt stared at the window before getting out of the car. Matt carefully approached the front door, opening the storm door, and knocking on the door. Shuffling could be heard from the inside, stuff being moved around rather quickly. Matt knocked once more before the door was finally opened.

Mr. Walsh answered the door. The teacher was in rather bad shape, with thick bags under his eyes, his skin being a ghostly pale, and his hair being a complete mess, with what would appear to be small clumps pulled out of it. "Mr......Mr. Walsh?" Matt asked hesitantly. "Gr....Greene? What are.....what are you kids doing here?" He asked, struggling to get his words out. "We.....we haven't seen you since the storm.....we were worried.....can we talk?" Matt nervously asked. "Ta....talk? The.......Storm......the Storm......the Storm.......cause of the Storm......it has to be- ARRGGHH!" Mr. Walsh screamed in pain midst his ravings. Mr. Walsh clinched his temple as he screamed in agony, and then he began pounding on his head.

Mr. Walsh staggered back away from the door, mumbling something. "Mr. Walsh!" Matt opened up the door fully. Once he did an overwhelming stench bombarded everyone. It caused Matt to flinch, and cover his mouth, almost enough to make them throw up. Inside Walsh's home the entire living room was a mess. Furniture turned over, holes in the walls, pictures broken, it was a complete mess. "Mr......Mr. Walsh are you ok?" Matt asked as he fought through the overwhelming smell. "So many voices! Too loud......can't think.....hear it all.....not sure what's my thoughts anymore." He managed to get out.

Matt approached him carefully. "Can't....think.......Butter knife.....it was just a butter knife....No don't!......was my hero....now my burden." Matt stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. How did he know? He wasn't even thinking about that. "I'm strong now........make him pay.....Animal.....they see me as an animal.....and I like it.......The Lily......the Lily's gone, and I have wilted......Can't face them.....only makes things worse.....always worse.......He fought for so long........then the plug was pulled......A thirst that can't be quenched.......encouraged by the jasmine......" Walsh stated seemingly randomly as he held his head, groaning in extreme pain.

"The Seagull tinkers......to keep his mind off the flock.....Rejects because.....it's what she fears......So many men......so many bruises......strength, need strength......Guilt, am I guilty.......just a child.......so was he......Couldn't be without her......she lights a fire within me....." Walsh leaned against a wall, nearly collapsing. He looked like death warmed over. Everything he said seemed to be random until it pertained to each teen. They were each something he heard from their minds. It was apparent that he had powers as well. "Mr. Walsh....are you ok?" Matt asked as he hesitantly approached him. Matt glanced over into the kitchen to see something covered by a white sheet, the kitchen was where the smell was the strongest.

He then looked to the wall that Mr. Walsh was leaning on to see a crooked picture of himself, and some woman who's face was obscured by the broken glass of the frame. "Mr.....Walsh? What happened-" Before Matt could finish his sentence Mr. Walsh abruptly pulled out a revolver pistol. Matt was surprised, and out of instinct backed away from the teacher. Matt held out his hand behind to signal the others to stay back. He couldn't get hurt, but they could. Matt held out both his arms in front of him, hopefully to show that he didn't mean any harm to the teacher.

"I can't think......everyone's thoughts.....deepest secrets.....desires....." Mr. Walsh groaned as he waved his gun about. "Things......I shouldn't hear.......twenty years of marriage.......affairs.......hated me......couldn't take it........it had to stop......she had to be quiet....now she's quiet.....everyone else is loud.....too loud..." Mr. Walsh continued to back away into the kitchen as he waved his gun about. "Just.....calm down....We can get you help.....no one has to get hurt." Matt stated as he slowly, and calmly approached Mr. Walsh, keeping his hands where he could see them. "It's ok.....it's gonna be ok.....just put the gun down."

As Matt got within arm's reach of his teacher he gently placed his hand on the barrel of the shaking gun, pointing it towards the ground. 'You can read thoughts right? Just focus on my mind. Ignore everyone else. You can do it." He repeated in his mind, which seemed to have worked as he began getting more calm. As he got closer Mr. Walsh placed his other hand on the back of Matt's neck, and leaned him in closer, and whispered something in his ear so low that the others couldn't hear. Then a gunshot was heard as Mr. Walsh unloaded a round in Matt's abdomen.

While it didn't cause him any harm the initial shock made Matt jump back slightly, letting go of the gun. "Sorry....it's too much." Mr. Walsh then placed the barrel of his gun underneath his chin, and pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang in Matt's ear, drowning out any other noise. Mr. Walsh's blood, and other fluids sprayed the kitchen, with Matt himself being right in the splash zone. Matt stood there, his eyes widened at the sight he just saw. He's never seen a real dead body before. The smell of blood was overwhelming. Matt couldn't move a muscle, his entire body was shaking with the gunshot still ringing in his ears.

His stomach was turned upside down, he felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn't take his eyes away from the dead body. He couldn't will himself to look away. He could feel the blood dripping down his face. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't move, and his body was still shaking. His mind was blank.

Setting

Point Place, Maine

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#2016-04-13 16:15:41, as written by wednesdaysun

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What was to ensue at Mr Walsh's house was more than enough to make up for the uneventfulness of the rendezvous by the school. Not even he could muster enough to properly joke as they followed Max's car to the particular house. His mind was abuzz with the same what-ifs and theories as the night before, and he groaned silently at the realisation that it was going to have to take more time to reflect—and perhaps another spliff—to set his mind straight.
Those who couldn't ride in Max's car for lack of space he took in his pickup.
"Smell that? Minty fresh. I told you," he said as peppermint wafted out of the Colorado.

The jangly riffs of an Australian psychedelic rock band playing quietly on the speakers seemed the only respite on the drive there.

It seemed a good enough neighbourhood, he thought to himself as they seemed to near the place. He could just make out Matt gesturing towards the house ahead of him—and he swore he could even see the house closer than he could behind the wheel. Luckily for him, there wasn't a car coming at them as he momentarily let the car skid for a very, very brief moment that he promptly apologised for, as one should following accidentally posing great risk to lives being behind the wheel.

He had no idea just why his mind had wandered off into someone else's, and specifically his first body's. He still couldn't wrap his head around the scene immediately post-storm, though he remembered it perfectly well enough.
Several desks were overturned. The (fortunately, stunned and not dead) bodies of his fellow detainees were on the ground in odd positions. Must've been powerful, he thought to himself as he came to, and slowly got up on his arms to try and dust himself off, only to find he wasn't wearing his jumper. Frowning, he wondered where he had gotten this particular jacket (deep blue, hooded) and this particular tan (considering getting sun involved him burning like bacon on a cast-iron skillet) when he looked up to see that carrot head of his lying by the shelving in the back of the classroom. His sound of protest was immediately cut off just hearing the sound of not-his-voice. He came to in his real body a minute after, and for the longest he'd ever mustered in the presence of people his age, remained quiet trying to figure out what happened.

He pulled over in front of the house, parked appropriately (so no one would have at him for parking inappropriately), and got out with the rest.
The Walsh fellow seemed to him a decent sort of man, if the residence and all in it was enough to go by. Still, there was something unsettling about the way that certain things had been overturned, things had been thrown about, things broken, things fallen off walls that screamed that something in what he assumed was a perfectly ordered house could be and had gone wrong like a burglary or a nasty scuffle. It looked as if the storm had happened twice over.
Not unexpectedly, those thoughts were confirmed by the presence of the man in question. He looked wrong. Everything around him was in complete disarray—and was that blood on him?
He observed as the Matt fellow tried to reason with him, ask him what was wrong. A small part of him wanted to declare that no, he was absolutely not all right. But they needed to be delicate. If they could be spooked by the sudden appearance of powers after a freak lightning storm, then Mr Walsh could be no different—and maybe even be more worse off than them.
Then, the Cassandric babbling came.

"So many voices! Too loud......can't think.....hear it all.....not sure what's my thoughts anymore. Can't....think.......Butter knife.....it was just a butter knife....No don't!......was my hero....now my burden. I'm strong now........make him pay.....Animal.....they see me as an animal.....and I like it.......The Lily......the Lily's gone, and I have wilted......Can't face them.....only makes things worse.....always __________________________________
worse.......He fought for so long........then the plug was pulled......A thirst that can't be quenched.......encouraged by the jasmine...... The Seagull tinkers......to keep his mind off the flock.....Rejects because.....it's what she fears......So many men......so many bruises......strength, need strength......Guilt, am I guilty.......just a child.......so was he......Couldn't be without her......she lights a fire within me....."

It occurred to him that the incoherent ramblings actually did make sense. Hearing his own nickname seemed to prove that well enough, and Clem's and Jay's stories. However, he was more preoccupied trying to think of ways to tackle the man if he posed harm to himself and others.

"Easy, Mr Walsh. No need for the tin foil today," he tried to encourage, to say something, in the hopes that it could help make the situation light. That was futile—the teacher's eyes darted over all of them before he started to shrink in on himself again. His moves were erratic and utterly pained. He looked as if he were going to tear his hair out from the roots.

His eyes widened in shock at witnessing their own teacher making his student eat lead for breakfast, lunch and dinner and turning the gun on himself and shooting. Immediately, he backed up at the sight, gripping at the hair at the back of his head as he stood there speechless. When he came to his senses half a minute later, he gulped audibly and sucked in his lips.
"Cops. Coppers," he muttered, frantically looking around for a telephone.

Setting

Point Place, Maine

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#2016-04-13 18:17:30, as written by VitaminHeart

Magdalene actually felt surprisingly calm as she watched the insides of their teacher's skull decorate the kitchen ceiling.

Having followed along quietly and without much comment with the group on the way there, she had hopped across to the house fairly quickly (if for no other reason than to avoid the damn dog). It hadn't really been her intention to be too heavily involved in the discussion. She was not exactly popular with school staff, especially not after the whole bra incident, so she figured she'd just stick around and try not to poison the well before things started.

She didn't know what she'd expected, but whatever it had been...this didn't meet it. As soon as the door opened it became clear that something was seriously wrong. The smell that began to leech out of the place was something that Mags picked up on almost immediately, but discounted it..mostly because it was easier to believe it was just food gone bad. And it gave some veneer of sanity to the situation.

Well, so long as you discounted the man himself, and the manic glint in his eye.

The events after that went pretty quickly. The ranting, the first shot that impacted harmlessly with a certain invulnerable member of the group. (That was pretty lucky.) And then the final shot, the spray of gore over the floor and ceiling, and the body lying prone on the floor with a considerable gap in the top of its head.

Perhaps it was a life of being a horror enthusiast. Perhaps it was some hitherto untapped steely resolve that Magdalene was surprised she possessed, or perhaps the last twenty-four hours had caused her to reach some kind of weirdness terminal velocity and she couldn't possibly get more freaked out than she already was...but Maggie didn't panic. She didn't even offer a yelp of alarm at the shots and the grisly consequences.

She stood there, eyebrows raised, a moderately shocked expression on her pale face, for a few seconds approximately, until the frantic movements of Livingston provoked her to respond in kind.

Anticipating Gully's action, Maggie's gloved hand closed around the receiver of the phone, holding it down unless anyone attempted to do anything rash and snatched it up.

"No. Let's not. Bunch of kids in some guy's house. No other witnesses. Guy supposedly just up and blows his head off in front of everyone when we all happened to show up at his house? And one of us has his prints on the weapon?" Mags indicated Matt with a casual wave of the hand.

"We're going to end up as suspects. No cops. Hang on a second and let's think about what we're going to do before we start getting the law involved, alright?"

Almost immediately she felt some level of guilt for her own safety being her principle concern. After all a man had just died.
On the other hand, someone had to say it. Before they all ended up in court trying to persuade a jury that their teacher had killed himself after an attack of apparent malicious telepathy, and that he'd attacked them first but fortunately the guy he'd shot was immune to bullets.

At least, she reflected, they'd probably end up in a psychiatric hospital rather than jail.

Setting

Point Place, Maine

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#2016-04-13 23:42:01, as written by Ivisbo

He actually flew quiet well, considering his past experiences in the air. Yeah, to other birds he might look like a full-sized adult flapping its wings like a fledgling, rutting for the right wind streams and faltering on perfect glides, but he made it.

Dustyn made a terrible landing in the (thankfully) soft grass just in front of the indicated house, a few feathers flying loose at the clumsy impact. He sent a disdainful 'don't-anyone-say-anything' glare at the group of teens that were unloading from the cars, then promptly changed back into a human, adjust his clothes, and followed the group to the front door.

Walsh opened the door and Dustyn was felt an onslaught of sickly warm humid air that seemed to seep into the back of his throat like rotting sewage. He held back a gag, his face twisting into an uncomfortable grimace as he hid his nose in his leather sleeve. He couldn't tell if it was coming from the sickly looking teacher or the house, but Dustyn reasoned it was probably both.

The man looked bad, pale and gross and near death, by the looks of him. Matt had backed the teacher into the living room and Dustyn's attention turned towards the kitchen, nose scrunching as the stench increased. That was we're the putrid smell was coming from, the smell of disease and rancid meat. Meat that was not fresh, that had festered and should be left to the lesser animals... a comforting growl was echoing through his mind as he turned away from the vile murder scene covered by a stained sheet, a mental unsheathing of claws as his eyes raked over the defenseless excuse for a man. Pathetic creature...someone should put him out of his misery. A very feline rattle shook through him, a feeling that only meant power and fury and blood.

And he liked it.

"...Animal.....they see me as an animal.....and I like it..." Dark blue eyes widened as his thoughts were redirected back at him through the mans mouth, followed by a muttering stream of more random sentences. The man could see through him, he knew that Dustyn enjoyed this beasts whispered words and suggestions. Anger surged, a brittling clawing that felt like knives digging their way out of his soul, but he stamped down the change with gritted fangs as soon as his eyes locked onto a gun.

The first blast of gunpowder made Dustyn jump, eyes feverishly wide as he stared the two bodies in front of him. He knew Matt could not be hurt, but it was the anticipation of the second shot that made him uneasy.

Blood sprayed, covered the carpet, wall, and soaked Matt through. Dustyn didn't even hear the gunshot, just the noise and smell of the red liquid slapping against hard surface's and soaking into soft. Staining the carpet and Matts clothes with pinprick dots of lovely red, a spattering of the most beautiful kind of art...

Ignoring Gullys muttering, Mag's snappy retort, and Jess's frantic rambling, he took three long steps forward to get a better look. He'd never seen so much blood at once, not even when he let loose on the neighbors dog. He'd killed animals already, but the sight of human blood plastered across form of of the invisible blonde teen made a pleasurable purr threaten to leak out of him. Dustyn stood next to a very still Matt, yellow eyes locked on the body.

"I could take care of this" Gesturing towards the brain blasted body, he cast the tiniest of glances Matts way, chilly blue eyes drinking in the blood splattered across the blonde boys face, "You clear everyone out, I can make this look like a nasty accident."

Setting

Point Place, Maine

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#2016-04-14 01:20:07, as written by ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

Myung Sung-Jae | Eighteen | Atomic Transmutation | #368BC1

Sung-Jae hadn't been close to Mr. Walsh. Quite frankly, he couldn't remember most of the teachers at the high school. If they couldn't give him decent life advice or a good recommendation letter they were pretty useless to him. Still, seeing Walsh's power spin out of control (at least that's what he hoped it was rather than inviting everyone to watch him commit suicide) made him a bit glad he had nothing to hide. It also made him a bit sad that he wasn't the one who stepped up to help the man find his center.

The gang was left to pick up the pieces after his death which meant a flood of emotions from each person in the room. Gully was looking for his phone, Magdalene being oddly casual, and Jess very obviously wanting to vomit (not that he blamed her). He'd faced death in different ways as his family had a history of depression, casual alcoholism, and heart disease but he'd never been close enough to anybody to look at their death beyond a clinical sense. It, too, made him sad sometimes. But not sad enough that he couldn't deal with the situation at hand.

"It's a good idea but we're limited by what you can turn into," Jay interjected, glancing from the teacher's corpse to Dustyn, "unless you plan on cracking his skull it'll be hard to explain what sort of animal in Maine made a bunch of scratches and a clean bullet hole."

He steeled himself as he walked past the body, eyes scanning the room until he found one of the bullets Walsh shot into Matt.

"There's also the matter of the gun," he continued, "if it's suicide (which it was), why did he need two bullets? If it's not suicide then why is the bullet that shot him the same as from his gun?"

He was beginning to sound like the lawyer his parents always wanted him to be.

"If we do choose the route of calling the cops though I'd suggest someone call a lawyer."

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