I HAVE THREE EYES.

  for thin is the veil betwixt man 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱.  

[mystikah]

DR. STEPHEN STRANGE,     THE SORCERER SUPREME,     THE EYE    —    of marvel comics,    based primarily in the 616 universe with an adaptable mcu narrative.    emphasis on headcanons  &  canon divergence.    as foretold by doll,    she / her.    minors dni.   

           ⊰     𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴,    𝘪 . 𝘪𝘪 .  𝘪𝘪𝘪     —       𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴.      —      𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨.

AN EXPLORATION IN    . . .    sci-fi gothicism.    lovecraftian horrors  &  cosmic indifference.    fate  &  inevitability.    the significance of existence.    alienation of the self.    transcendence  &  depersonalization,    expressed through bird motif.    the occult.    magick comes at a price.    

[movedcrawl]

THE WOMAN STOOD AT THE DOOR,    AND THE DOOR STOOD IN THE SAND,    BOTH IN THE DESERT,    NOWHERE,    IN TANDEM.    (  catherine ‘cathy’ rose,   a lovecraftian / sci-fi inspired original character.   as summoned by doll.  )   

[mystikah]

just letting you all know that i’m not dead, but i am sick 😃🔫     i’ve been on my kylo blog this past week because he’s a bit easier to write — i’ll be here as soon as i feel coherent tho <3

[mystikah]

it’s all about that slightly disheveled look...

[mystikah]

force ship ? ;)

[mystikah]

ASHERAH.​

@mystikah​​​  :  stephen  says,  ❛  they  look  at you  and  see  whatever  they  want   (   .   .   .   )   because  they  don’t  see  you  at  all.  ❜

THE  DARK  WATER,  A  THOUSAND  EYED,  gazing  upon  their  somber  forms,  grey  as  winter’s  morning,  black  as  the  solemn  hour  of  midnight,  she  leans  forth,  arms  bracing  against  the  rails  seperating  daughter  of  the  sea  from  its  harsh,  frigid  depths.  bare,  cracked  lips  lour  into  a  scowl,  black  foam  lashes  closing,  asherah  leaning  her  head  onto  her  arms,  sighing  from  the  depths  of  her  fractured  soul.  for  the  briefest  of  moments,  she  feigns  ignorance,  listening  to  the  crashing  waters  beneath,  his  words  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  into  an  endless  pit  within  her  mind,  lies  made  to  comfort  a  woman  doomed,  damned  from  the  beginning.  ❛  and  what  do  they  not  see,  stephen  ?   ❜  she  whispers,  voice  drowning  beneath  the  winds  and  waves  howling  and  crashing,  wrath  blooming,  a  flower  poisoning  each  thought  and  action,  she  raises  herself,  thrusting  a  finger  unto  his  chest,  voice  raising,  ❛  tell  me,  what  do  they  not  see  ?  they  see  a  threat,  a  monster  blossoming,  ready  to  destroy  everything  around  her.  do  you  not  see  the  same  ?  or  do  you  have  the  audacity  to  lie  to  my  face  ?  tell  me  !  ❜

                in an eve of purple’s deepest hue,    these secret shades of black a wax melting over the horizon,        shifting into the gazing void of the depths’s domain,    where it growls its unutterable secrets.    fastened over a typical dark coat,    the cloak billows with the wind like the waves below,    its golden hem catching the moon’s gaze,    as though it,    too,    were aware of all of their observers,    these thousands of witnesses.    angular features contoured by shadows of deep night,    the sorcerer’s grey gaze watches on    ;    to waters,    the cosmos,    and beyond,    caught in some conduit of thought,    like he were entertaining countless realities by the second.    hands that had rested against the railing,    gloved and shaking,    move to rest at his side as he turns to face her,    and finds a finger thrust against him in accusation.       ❝    i’ve sworn an oath.    if,    for a moment,    i thought you posed a threat to this universe,    we would not be having this discussion.    ❞    habitual sobriety coats his words,    yet the nuance of his voice was lush with concern,    replete with consolation.    as far as reprimands go,     it was far gentler than he should allow.    such a leniency spared could cost the cosmos its life,    but he knows that he cannot,    in good faith,    let her face this alone,    abandon her to the horrors that crawled here.     ❝    asherah,    ❞    stephen murmurs against her array of demands,    with a shortage of any particular sentiment ━ whether he's moved by her outburst,    he’s content not to reveal.    he wills a step closer then,    hands raising to ghost over her arms,    not quite touching,     but an act meant to placate nonetheless,      ❝    would i lie to you?     these doubts and fears that plague you    ( . . . )    what monster can attest to having their own?    ❞

[mystikah]

the real question is .... would your muse keep stephen company as he's summoning cosmic beings in his basement ? 🤭

[wastedseductions]

“The sky collapses, and my heart, filled with astral light, / Becomes a vast cemetery of stars.”

— Georges Rodenbach, from Selected Poems; “The Reign of Silence,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[mystikah]

stephen is actually the best person to go to when you want to vent for hours because he’ll zone out half-way through.

[mystikah]

      this is a secret starter call.    👁

[jrhysmeyers]

Jonathan Rhys Meyers as Alexander Grayson | Dracula, 1x01 — The Blood Is The Life

[mystikah]

if you pspspspsps at stephen, he will most probably come to you .

[mystikah]

NEW YEAR’S EVE KISSES   —   NO LONGER ACCEPTING. 

@manofiiron​ declares   ⊰     🎉 ( he went there )

          UNDER THE EXPANSE OF THE UNIVERSE LAID OVER EARTH LIKE A LADEN QUILT STOOD THE ROOF.      the street stretching below was otherwise quiet,    except from the booming fireworks,    illuminated by the grace of the distant stars above.     it was only this light that stood as witness,      at this junction of the late night’s past and the early morrow’s future,    the beginning of a new chapter   —  had it been up to strange,    the entirety of the evening would’ve been devoted to studies and meditation.    celebrating the completion of a rotation cycle seemed too unfruitful an act when the ever-shifting fate of the cosmos relied on him,    but tony had insisted,    and so he’d obliged out of courtesy.

the cloak,    laid over a regular black coat,    curls up with relatively more zest that the sorcerer it belongs to,     who has barely enough time to subdue his surprise when tony grasps the front of his collar and pulls him down for a kiss as colorful fire explodes across the sky,    signifying the new year.    it's over before strange can settle on an emotion,     and so he clears his throat,    and inclines his head enough to catch stark’s eyes,    voice laced with some degree of humor,      ❝    i think i’ll take you up on that offer for a drink,   if you’d be so inclined.    ❞    

[mystikah]

NEW YEAR’S EVE KISSES   —   NO LONGER ACCEPTING.

          A CLOCK CHIMES,    ONCE,    TWICE,    FROM SOMEWHERE WITHIN THE SANCTUM,    WITH CLAMOROUS INTENT.      in the vacancy,      it reverberates even louder,    but he barely spares it a thought,    engrossed in the volume of incantations he’s been skimming.    it is the closing of some leather-bound tome that snaps strange’s focus away from his own,    gaze tracing the dust dancing with the waltz of candles around WANDA    (  @roseguided​​​  )    another glance,    then,    towards the neatly stacked books now lay in disarray,    no longer organized by title but by desperation,    by whichever one held a sliver of anything about the current predicament  —  a break is in order,    he decides.    there’s no one else here    (  except for her daughter,    who he’d lost track of,    hiding around the building  )   and neither of them have anything better to do this evening,    he’s not unaccustomed to it,    but they’ve spent hours going through every book the sanctum’s library had to offer,     and she’s undoubtedly tired.     

                                 ❝    happy new year,    ❞    two delicate glasses of champagne manifest with the third and final chime,     swaying unsteady in his grasp,     that constant twitch thrumming through bone which he manages to will to a halt for a moment.     he passes one to her,    and in the silence that sits between them,    all around them,    a sort of seclusion that seems to seep into the walls,    the sorcerer leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead,     ❝    i hope it brings you something better.    ❞ 

[vaememes]

Send ’ 🎉 ’ to kiss my muse at midnight on New Years Eve.

Alternatively, send ’ 🎉 + diss ’ to turn away from my muse trying to kiss yours at midnight on New Years Eve.

[mystikah]

guys, meet stephen’s talking phantom dog — bats 🥰

[mystikah]

it’s, like, nowhere near done but if you’re wondering what i’ve been wasting my time with — here’s a peek at my unfinished lore document 😊