#The Door

[flowerytale]

Margaret Atwood, from ‘January’, The Door (2007)

[ceaselessims]

thinking about the door imagery in the magnus archives– the threshold metaphors if you will.

jane prentiss and her worm doorway, the door in jon's mind keeping the ocean of knowledge at bay, obviously helen and michael and the distortion itself manifesting as physical doors, and of course the final incantation of "i open the door" to unleash the apocalypse

the use of the physical idea of a door to give a visual for the lines that are crossed in tma is so fascinating to me as a concept, bc as a zillennial one of the lines that lives rent free in my head since 2011 is from doctor who - "a doorway, once opened can be stepped through in either direction"

and this leads me to the literal door ways to parallel worlds in the magnus protocol and god if i had more brain power and time to do a full relisten to further Think about this

[inky-void]

Helen and Michael :3

[sypherafin]

"Four more souls to the call

Won't be all

And you know it"

[elekid]

there's someone at the door

[thoushaltnotlive]

S5 Martin is such a silly little guy, because what do you mean he wanted to kill a guy out of jealousy. S1 him might just have a heart attack if he caught wind of that.

Tma S5 (as far as I got for now) in a nutshell:

Martin:We're gonna have to incinerate that guy.

Jon, The one who has to laser beam them: Damn

Helen, popping out of nowhere: ~c0upLe g0@lS~ *insert creepy laugh*

[balasha7sanbardo]

please please please PLEASE do me a favor and unfollow me if you have a problem with me dump posting about palestine or if you’re pro-israel/a zionist or neutral about what’s going on. I’m not gonna stop and you have no place here.

[thewordfortheday]

I am the door. If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture. (John 10:9)

Jesus claimed to be the Good Shepherd but He also claimed to be the Door- the way through which He leads every one of His sheep into the presence, blessing and salvation of God. Jesus said in John 14:6,“ I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” Yes, without Jesus it is impossible to go to God. He is the Door, He is the only way to heaven.

[eira-draws]

MICHAELLLLL

[flowerytale]

Margaret Atwood, from ‘The Last Rational Man’, The Door (2007)

[betty-fran]

#my fanfiction recommendation column

the door by pouxin

james t. kirk / s'chn t'gai spock

It ought to make us feel ashamed when we talk like we know what we're talking about when we talk about love. raymond carver, 'what we talk about when we talk about love'

I have a complicated relationship with this story because it's too intimate, too personal, too angsty, one that gets under my skin and reminds me of things I don't always want to think about.

But this is without a doubt one of the best, literary-heartbreakingly-written AOS fics. There's a lot of talking about books, thinking about love and grief, and having sex. And it's all expressed through a wonderful play on words. Strangely, I find this a very AOS thing, my personal headcanon, something from my youth that I miss in this easy way - forgotten Allen Ginsberg's Howl on the table, paperbacks in jacket pocket, the muted jazz of Morphine, the deserted streets of the heat of stifling summer nights, the feel of hot asphalt under bare feet, the shared moisture of kisses, that incomprehensible physicality of life. And it is this difference in physicality that, for me, makes AOS and TOS so unlike each other, the result of the half-century lying between them, something that makes AOS simpler, more down-to-earth, not as mythical, not as ancient in its depth, not as fateful as TOS, and that's why I love them so (equally) differently.

It's a replay of STID, but it isn't really tied as much to the external plot as it is to the internal, to the feelings and sensations, to the thoughts and memories, all those things that go on in our heads, and that scream and cry and want to be seen. And this is a fairly rare and good example of working with memories of Tarsus in the AOS universe, with an ofc that really touched me. It's not an easy read, there's a lot of talk about grief and loss and guilt and shame, but it's healing, not destructive. And it's very beautiful.

Finding quotes this time was a difficult task, given the length of this text, and my aesthetic infatuation with almost every line, but as always, a few, actually a lot (almost non-spoiler) quotes:

Mom, what's at the end of the sky? And she'd say, well, space, the universe. And I knew that, because of dad and everything. But then I'd ask: what's at the end of the universe? And she'd say, nothing, nothing; and I'd say, but what's actually there?; and she'd say OK, OK then Jimmy, a brick wall. A big brick wall. A big red brick wall. Is there a door? I'd ask. No, she'd say. No door.

It... speaks to me, you know? It's one of those texts that just, you know, grabs you by the throat and shakes you and makes you feel feelings.

There is a line from Wonderland: “You’re not the same as you were, you’ve lost your muchness. You used to be much more…. muchier". Spock has never understood that line, but now he thinks he does. There is a 'muchness' about Jim. Spock isn't one for imprecise language, but it is the closest he can come to, in words, for what he admires most in Jim. Muchness.

Spock stoops and then gently slots the photograph back where it has fallen from. He notices the last line of the book is underlined in thick, black ink: "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."

Spock leafs through the book. At the back, on the final page Jim has written something else, messily, almost as an afterthought: 'I still wouldn't do it. And neither would you. And I am glad.'

But it was not the story itself that I truly wished for. No more than it had been the singing. It was my mother's warm hand on my brow, the occasions she believed I had already fallen asleep when she would run her fingers very lightly all around my face, down my nose and across my jaw, and then up the curve of each ear.

On occasion it comes back to me, though unbidden: I was someone's heart's own darling once. I am reminded of it at foolish times, inappropriate times.

I would kiss you. Unbidden, and unexpected, like all the best of thoughts, the worst of thoughts. Stealthy, unexpected, and yet at the moment of contact it has always been there, always there.

He is breathing hard. He half laughs. His eyes are closed. Then he says softly, "Hey." And two of his fingers find Spock's, and his fingers are slightly damp with sweat, and Spock's skin sings for the moisture. What are all these kissings worth / If thou kiss not me?

"Your mind. Igen-kur. Kahs'khior'i." "What's that?" "Shooting star."

Jim curls his hands into fists, making the scar tissue stand out, tusk pale against the ruddiness of his skin. "Because it looked like I could fight. Like I could handle myself."

You don't give much, you know? But when you do, your smiles, they're like gold to me, Spock. They're the most precious things I've ever been given.

"But you don't know what it was like for me." Spock is so very still. Only the passing shadows on his face, the darkness and sporadic ember glow of his eyes. "No. I do not." "I am not just part of one homogenous mass of human behaviour. I'm me." "Yes. You are."

Then he says, "There is something Surak says: Ri vath natya-vik k'svi khaf-spol-tu. Ein boshau k'tik sov-masu-rom. Vath ri irak-glu na'ish. In Standard you would say: There are different wells within your heart. Some fill with each good rain. Others are far too deep for that.”

A little while after that, Jim is hovering above the velvet precipice of sleep, when he thinks he hears Spock say: “I would not have you any different.” But that might just have been part of a dream.

Well, it's important, isn't it? To understand a place. It's like when I think of home, I think of how it smells. The smell of summer in Iowa. The scent when the corn's being cut. Hawaiian Tropic sun lotion, new flip flops on hot pavement, warm dog's belly, burgers on a barbecue. That's home. That's how it feels to be home, to have it in your ears, your eyes, your nose.

What were you fighting for if not to try and protect all the little things you love. All the perfect, tiny, inconsequential things that make it all worthwhile.

I reached for her and it was too late. I reached for her. There is a part of me that is still reaching.

"I wish to be inside you," Spock replies, kissing at the side of Jim's face, the hair on his temples. "You are," Jim says, resting his forehead against Spock's. "You already are."

"No," Spock says, recklessly, impetuously, thrillingly, "It is you, your nearness." Jim's smile deepens. "I make you come over all illogical." "You do." He finds Jim's mouth. Rivers. Lightening. Blood.

"Is that how you like me, Spock? In the darkness?" There is a thundering in his temples, a strange, blind sort of wanting. "No. No. I like you in the light."

Spock is silent momentarily, then he says in a new voice, a voice Jim has not heard before, gritty and stretched. "If you were to die -" He pauses as if searching for the right words, something he never usually does. "If you were to die-"

He moves his hand away in shock. I wanted you to touch me, and you did not, and now you are touching me.

Scars, that mark the pale pain of his survival. This will work, Jim thinks. It will work. He can do this. After all, Jim Kirk is damaged goods. And if life has taught him nothing else it has taught him that damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.

Fear. Swooping and endless. This is what he has tried to avoid. That night he lay by Jim's side, wakeful in the darkness, listening to the slow, heavy slump of Jim's heart, touching the soft, vulnerable parts of his body.

"I could have found her. I could have held her hand." This is what he should have said to Jim, then, when Jim had told him about Lyla: It would have hurt her worse if you had been there. It would have killed her a thousand times to see you die too. If she loved you. If she loved you, that would be the most terrifying thing of all, to have you hold her hand. She would want you to live. Live, live.

And I knew what he wanted from me, and that it was wanted. I knew what he wanted, and I could give it. And it was such a little thing, the giving, such a little thing, even though it had illogically appeared as though it were the biggest thing of all.

The warm willingness of his blood. How breakable Jim was, how tender. He thinks on how much that used to scare him. But the fragility is part of the beauty. He sees that now. Every love story is a potential grief story. That's the whole point.

The realisation comes to him then, slowly and with a sense of dislocated surprise, that he has been wrong all along. For even now, even now with the heartbreak he finds he is gladder than he has ever been to look upon the sky. Everything, everything that happened, even if Jim is lost to him forever, is worth it, because of the colour of the sky. Now it will always mean something to him. Always. And he finds he would not have it any other way.

He finds that he misses Jim not just physically, intellectually, socially, but also morally. But loving Jim was always about seriousness and truth. How could it not have been? Spock sees that now. Loving Jim was the most logical action in the Universe, because it made him better.

There is a line from a book and it goes like this: At first he only dipped below the surface of sleep, and skimmed along like a salmon in shallow water, so close to the surface that he fancied himself in air. He thought himself awake when he was already asleep.

"Jim." Spock pushes the hair back from Jim's brow, and then he says, "Istau nash-veh tu-gluvau lu du sa'awek il svi'mu'gel'es, tauraun ha'ge-tu hasu." "Surak?" "Yes. He says: I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in the darkness, the astonishing light of your own being."

But Spock smiles back, the little half-smile-not-quite-a-smile Jim'd first fallen in love with, natural and guileless, a smile that has no intention to charm. It makes Jim's throat ache. Gold, gold, gold from straw.

[andfor-you]

[altraviolet]

Hi Violet ! I and a friend had a discussion about how Rodimus and Soundwave might eventually share a berthroom or not in the future of TEG. We thought neither would want to move in the other's room due to their preferences in interior. Yet Rodimus seems to not mind and gotten used to being in Soundwave's so we thought maybe he would be the one to move. We also had in mind that they would have the wall separating their rooms removed so the interior would be bigger, perhaps renovate too where they have to decide on the interior design together. What are your thoughts on these ?x]

Hi anon!

this is a super cute question x3

ok ok here are my thoughts:

Rodimus would want to remove the wall, yes, whereas SW is like "? but there's just one doorway in between," as in, why bother when all we have to do to access each other is go through one door. but that's still a WHOLE DOOR Rodimus doesn't want to deal with, and also, hey maybe it's like, symbolic or something. so Rodimus wants to take down the wall

Ultra Magnus does a big NO to that, for many reasons, including structural reasons. Rodimus perhaps starts tearing down the wall anyway until he trips some kind of alarm and gets found out. UM is Not Happy. Rodimus is like :'D :'D

Eventually UM lets him take down however much of the wall is safest to do so, so now they have semi-connected rooms. and now, yes, they run into the trouble of wanting different things for interiors. Rodimus realizes he's lost a wall for displaying his posters/videos and he's not into crystal-studded-darkness 24/7 (ship equivalent), and SW finds the constant barrage of moving posters/videos distracting and annoying.

oh no. but Rodimus can't back down and get the wall rebuilt! then he will have been wrong about his idea!!

so eventually they get a folding wall thingy that re-divides the rooms xD it's pretty much the same as having a door, which SW points out, but Rodimus shushes him, and he makes a big deal about how Nice and Foldy the foldable wall is. oooh, look how it folds. it's so foldy. no one else has a foldy wall

so yeah they end up with a really silly, flawed arrangement but Rodimus is too stubborn to make it less silly and flawed and SW really doesn't care that much. so it's all good xD

thanks for the question. that was fun to think about haha, hope you enjoyed

[rammington]

New villain when?

So I was scrolling until one certain post caught my eye..

(Post by @gailsfrog btw go check it out)

THE SHADOW BITCH IS REAL

like bro i thought it was my brain making up stuff or it was some kind of fever dream but no he’s REAL HALLELUJAH

and I saw a couple people talking about the door..

And so I thought, wouldn’t the door and the shadow man combined be a cool concept? Cuz like every time it zooms in on the door, there are shadows around it.

and so I decided to draw him.. (btw this is just my depiction of what I think he looks like I never saw him having a canon design)

took this picture last night and the light was reflecting off of my pencil for some weird reason so here’s one without it

He could be working for puzzles, who knows..

who knows how long he’s been there? Lurking in the shadows.. possibly waiting behind that DOOR

oh yeah I also imagined him taking over other peoples’ shadows and just watching them, waiting for the right time to attack

another cool power I thought of for him was that he can take over peoples’ dreams and turn them into BLOODY NIGHTMARES

but hey, those are just my headcanons :]

@midnight1nk hi how ya doing