#magyst

[mtchstck-a]

incorrect quotes ft @magyst

[stormlit]

call. @magyst​

        ❝ i don’t give a flying fuck what kind of demon bullshit you think is going on here, von sydow. you wanna talk to this guy, i wanna talk to this guy. we go together, or i blast you through that wall and go myself. capisce? ❞

[mysteriesdelved]

       ‘ we must be in for big trouble if you’re in gotham. ‘ not that gotham was ever not in big trouble as it seemed to a magnet for every crime man could come up with, but the kind of trouble he dealt with was something else entirely. bruce probably wouldn’t be happy to hear about it. ‘ most people don’t exactly come here just to visit. ‘

@magyst​

[mtchstck-a]

@magyst​ :  “ Fuck, I feel hungover.” dr sleep prompts

Livvy sets two asprin dug out from her backpack on the card table in front of him quietly. No point rubbing salt in a wound. After some searching she manages to find a luke-warm and half empty gatorade bottle and sets that beside him as well. She’s going to ask about what happened last night, they’re going to talk about it, but not yet. “---You look like shit,”

[mtchstck-a]

@magyst​ :  “ The world’s a hungry place.” dr sleep

She knows. Good god does she know. She’s lived with wolves for years now, ravenous monsters who made their bones preying on the weak and less fortunate. She’s slipped below their radar out of pure dumb luck. But eventually, luck runs out. The corpse in front of her still smolders and the scent of burning fills the alley.

Livvy stands beside John in silence, idly wiping tears from her eyes and stifling sniffles. This is already enough of a mess- she doesn’t need to toss vulnerability into the mix. She just doesn’t know what to do.

[mysteriesdelved]

         ‘ are you here to have your tarot read? ‘ isobel’s tone was sharper than usual, tinged with suspicion. usually those that wanted to know their futures were women, either much older or much younger. others were too skeptical to believe it would ever truly work. it had been some time since she’d left le cirque des rêves for something simpler and quieter. a corner shop suited her, at least for the time. she moved towards the desk and the old, tattered deck of tarot cards lying on top, quickly setting her hand on top to hide them from view.

@magyst​

[mtchstck-a]

magyst replied to your post: liv’s got at least 5 lighters and 2 books of...

john is so proud

thank god,

[unrite-a]

@magyst      :      MOST DAYS, ALL I HAVE IS REALITY, WHICH IS NONSENSE TOO.      *

if he expects some sort of sympathy from her,      she has run out of that particular brand of kindness years ago      :      gertrude plays at doddering old woman well,      but only when it suits her,      only when there is something to gain from the playacting.      the hard - set line of her mouth,      the analytical coldness of her eyes.      the way she looks at him as if trying to solve a puzzle,      and finds the solving too simple,      not challenging enough.

‘      better,      i would think,      to have a nonsense of a reality than something that makes sense but isn’t real.      ’            was there ever a time she had looked at what has become her everyday and thought it nonsensical,      impossible,      utterly unfathomable?      there must have been.      her life before the institute had been horrifically dull,      but it seems so distant now      :       as if that is the nonsense,      and this is all that is real,      these battles they fight,      this war she wages.            ‘      it’s all any of us have,      really.       ’