#gmxtyche

classes had come to an end, and as tyche swiftly shoves her books into her tattered messenger bag ( she really needs to save up and buy a brand new one ), she doesn’t seem quite enthusiastic for another appointment with the institute’s counselor. however, her consciousness tells otherwise while she ambles through the ocean of mutants, so she approaches the entrance of a different hallway — a complete contrast of the previous corridor. she stands a few feet away from joonmyun’s doorstep before the door suddenly flies open, revealing a sniveling male walking past her — she almost doesn’t notice his body disappearing into nowhere, bit by bit, his cells vanishes from her sight. the familiar man emerges from his narrow office seconds later with a concerned look directed not toward her, but to the vast hallway. "don’t blame me — blame his teleporting abilities." tone nonchalant, she rolls her eyes instantly.

joonmyun closes his eyes when his door slams open — he can feel the grating of a migraine pounding at his skull, but he still stands to hurry after the younger male who just threw open the door in his hysteria, to get out — to get away. this isn’t a day that’s going well; not for kim joonmyun — he wasn’t expecting the teleporter to shift into his office cell by cell only to hide in the corner and mutter to himself for most of it, especially when he hadn’t seen him before ( wasn’t sure he was even a student, either. )

but joonmyun is patient and joonmyun is kind, still approached him in an attempt to calm the frenzy that waged in the child’s heart but it only led to pacing and a too quick speech. he stands at the door with wide eyes, a little worse for wear now that it .. seems over, but still there’s the concern somewhere deep inside his heart — he wants to know. he should have been able to fix this. but he sighs, a little resigned to the state of affairs when he finally looks at tyche — smiles despite his aching head and leans against the door frame.

gmxtyche:

fourhours at an almost desolate circus is a little over-exaggerated, don’t you think? ( it’s a mutant circus visiting shinkyo for three days, which makes it even more tremendous than ever ). however, tyche’s group of friends finally finds the time to acquire some nourishment, feeling very worn out from the amount of time they’ve spent in this once-in-awhile experience. after completing her styrofoam cup of black coffee, a woman who appears like her height is about six foot two; face also covered with centipede tattoos, intrigues the ghoul to go in another circus tent as a finale of her day. she informs her short withdrawal from the group before sauntering toward the tent —

HOUSE OF FORMALIN: displaying a show of internal organs and unclothed body content!

— the poster says, and she immediately proceeds to walk in, but halts at the unfamiliar voice in english. “huh? you talkin’ to me?” an index finger points to herself, australian accent quite thick. “do i look like a fucking eleven year-old to you? your answer is no whether you like it or not — and a legal girl wanting to watch this kind of stuff isn’t wrong, you know.”

If there was one thing he could say about Genosha, it was that people were quick to take offense. It was a genuine question on Sangster’s part because he could not fathom how anyone would want to stay in this place, much less walk into a tent filled with things that were definitely obtained through painful methods. The mere thought of it made him shudder. That was all he wished to know, but the girl (lady?) had tossed him an unwarranted sharp rebuke that required some effort on Sangster's part to comprehend due to her accent. He held his hands up, backing up a step. 

"Chill out, lady. You are clearly no eleven year-old-" it took a tremendous amount of self-discipline to prevent his eyes from wandering the length of the body, although he doubted there was much to be seen from the layers of clothing "-and neither am I. It’s just-"

xx. they forgot something.

airheaded—jinri’s had the adjective slung at her number of times, a play on her gift and (though she wouldn’t like to admit it) a pretty accurate one to utilise when describing the girl; it’s certainly a word that runs through her thoughts—along with a slew of frustrated expletives— as she searches through her bag for a certain something, embarrassed and panicked. she can’t find it, she can’t find it, the little bound, black moleskine she used for a variety of things, tattered and worn from her varieties of distress.

the brunette heaves a sigh, dark eyes searching the heavens—as if they’d be there, unless she’d… no, no, no—before dropping to her hands; she frowns, stroking a pale thumb against a blushing fingertip—she’d been busy in the last while, leaving her digits to forget the cutting caress of steel strings and grow irate.

steel strings.

she pulls out her phone, searching through her contacts before pressing the device to her cheek; contemplation colours her face as the dialtone continues to hum (this has to be it, it has to be), eyes widening with foolish surprise as she’s presented with a greeting. jinri clears her throat, tongue flicking across her lower lip before she responds, “hi! um, by any chance, did i leave a little notebook behind?”

gmxtyche 

— 25/12/14 text to : 타이그 

↳ can you come over really quick? i want to show you something

↳ & bring an umbrella, just in case.