#the sof spider web

[mercurydancer]

Burning Matches Pt 5.

Welcome Home

-

          “No,” Peni gasped at the sight of the warning flashing on the screen, looking from it to Pete. “No,” she repeated, and pressed the button again. At the sound of the warning chiming again, Peni had to swallow back the start of more tears.

汚染

          “No!” she cried out and pushed it again, still trying to fight against the prickling burning of tears at the back of her eyes, back of her throat, under her ribs. “That’s a LIE!” Another warning beep.

汚染

          “He’s not contaminated!” She pressed the button again, and a sob rasped out from deep in her chest. “Shut up!” she screamed as it blinked out:

汚染

          Peni gave another sob, not sure what it meant, what it could be referring to, why it wasn’t working. She had already made sure that there was a field in place for each of them, that it could recognize their cells and what made them different and be able to work around that. Why wasn’t it working? What did it mean? Was the Lizard venomous? But it should have been able to simply take out the venom, why was it acting like…like he wasn’t even…?

          Peni couldn’t even think about it, and her arm reared back as the urge came to punch a hole through the monitor that was lying, Peni’s voice coming out in a stilted scream, and Peter B was suddenly before her.

          Her arm halted before it even came close to touching him. Peter B grabbed her mechanical hand in both of his, and held her tight, bringing her hand down to his level and staring up into her eyes with wide and insistent brown. There was worry in them, but also a burning resolve that fed into her a calm that she desperately needed.

          “Peni, Peni, it’s okay. It’s okay, he’s still breathing, we still have time, he’s not dead yet and he won’t die in here.” Peter B kept his eyes locked on hers in her suit, his voice calm and certain. “Your machine probably just doesn’t recognize the Spider mutate. That’s fine. He’ll be fine. I’ve survived worse, he’ll survive worse, it’s going to be fine, we just…have to take him somewhere else.”

          “But where?” Peni asked. “He…he was…”

          “I got my back broken once, kid, and I’m walking around fine and I definitely didn’t have any access to your…weird medical stuff,” Peter B kept his eyes on hers, voice steady. “If that happened to him it might take a little longer, but I don’t doubt that he’ll be back on his feet eventually. But frankly, we don’t even know that’s what happened. Do you have a way to take an x-ray? Or anything? What did that first image show? Can you get the data off it?”

          “Yes, but…”

          “We’ll take him somewhere they can help. I didn’t have any fancy medical technology, and he definitely doesn’t, but we’re both still here. This isn’t the first time he’s been cut up, either…but he’s starting to bleed around the webbing, and I’m lacking some sanitary webbing. We gotta move.” Peter B’s voice was gaining urgency once Peni stopped panicking and it filled her with resolve.

           Peni felt herself calm, immediately seeking to hack through the mainframe and steal what information the machine could gain before it decided that Pete wasn’t… She still didn’t know what exactly was happening or why it had blocked him out, but it was like the machine decided he wasn’t even human.

-

          Peter took a deep breath as soon as Peni turned to her task, pressing the button that he had seen Peni use that released the odd bed. He checked the bleeding and found that while it was definitely still oozing out around the webbing, it wasn’t at life-threatening levels. Not yet at least, but it was getting to the point where it might be critical. He turned to ask for help and found three Spiders staring at him in shock.

          “What?” he asked.

          “That was…that was pretty amazing?” Miles managed breathlessly. “I felt calm and I wasn’t…you weren’t even talking to me.”

          “Oh, well…you learn what to say, kid,” Peter finally said softly. “Lot of experience with that kinda thing. But listen, I need you all to help me move him back to Peni as soon as she has the data. We…we need to take him to Aunt May.” The slight waver in his voice hardened as he said those words, knowing that as a registered nurse, and someone that had experience with her nephew she would be the most capable. As he spoke he went over to the remains of Pete’s shredded coat, and balled it up before walking back to the man. He gestured to Porker as the smallest of them, and wadded up the coat, putting it on his wound and applying pressure to slow the blood-loss even more. Porker caught on quick, and pressed, following the conversation quietly even as he applied all of his weight on it.

          “No,” Gwen said suddenly, shaking her head as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Peter blinked in surprise, turning back from helping Porker.

          “What do you mean…?” he started.

          “She already buried her nephew once, are you going to ask her to take care of him again when there’s the possibility she can’t help him in time, and she’ll have to bury another?” Gwen asked. “Why not take him to MJ?”

          “MJ isn’t a registered nurse, for one, and for two she has to deal with my healing factor. She doesn’t have any experience with people that aren’t exactly like me, I don’t think she’d be completely up to the task,” Peter argued back, which was true, as much as he didn’t want to throw MJ under the bus, he knew that her medical skills were limited.

          “She might be the only one who can help us, even if his healing isn’t as good as yours. Who knows, maybe the sight of him like that also might make her stop wanting kids, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore,” Gwen snapped back.

          Peter found himself stuck between bristling and reeling with the absolute venom in Gwen’s voice. He didn’t know what to say for a moment, various words caught in his mouth, fighting over his tongue, and then another voice:

          “My mom’s a nurse,” Miles interrupted suddenly, and all attention snapped to him that could be spared, Peni still working on retrieving what information she could. “My mom’s a nurse. She could…she could help him. I know she could. She works in the trauma ward, she…she’s good at this kind of thing, she’s seen it happen all the time.”

          Peter took a moment to gather his thoughts again, staring down at Miles closely, taking in the way Miles took a step back under the initial scrutiny, before squaring his shoulders and standing upright. Miles looked up at him with his expression daring him to say no, and Peter finally kneeled down before him. Peter put his hands on the oh-so-small shoulders encased in their black spandex costume and stared deeply into the kid’s eyes.

          “Are you sure, kid?” Peter asked. “This is a big decision and I need to be sure that you are sure.”

          “Yes,” Miles replied, and he met his gaze with all the intensity that the thirteen-year-old possessed, those shoulders squaring. “If it means that Pete’ll be okay, then I’ll do it.”

          “Kid, listen closely,” Peter ordered softly, watching as Miles locked his gaze. “If you decide this is the moment when you show your parents what you’ve been doing and who you are, then alright, we’ll be with you and support you no matter what. But if you decide you are not ready then let me do the talking, okay? No matter what we have your back, but trust me, just let me do the talking.”

          Miles nodded, and that was the moment when Peni finally called out, “I have it!” They immediately set to repositioning Pete. Keeping his body as steady as possible without the cocoon was a little more challenging, but still doable, even with Porker’s added weight. “Where are we going?”

          “My world,” Miles said, straightening and squaring his shoulder’s defiantly. The black of Pete’s blood stained the red on his fingers. “My mom’s a nurse. She can help.”

          “Okay,” Peni agreed, and immediately set to programming. A portal opened again and all of them resumed their places on the mech. Peni leapt through, that weird disorienting feeling lurching through Peter’s stomach, before they were out again. Each of them leapt to the side as Peni threw out her own web, Times Square brilliant and shining before them in the nighttime sky.

          Miles took the lead and they all followed him in an odd parody of follow-the-leader throughout the city, keeping high and out of sight.

          They had to adjust their pattern to make sure there wouldn’t be many people noticing as they finally made it to Miles’ neighborhood. Miles paused before making the final leap to his fire-escape and into the building, and Peter watched as Miles pulled the mask off, before looking up at him with wide eyes. Peter made eye-contact, watching the fear and the uncertainty war within the young man, before making his decision.

          “Say that we need help, and then let me do the rest,” Peter said, and his voice was filled with all of the calm confidence he could inject into it. Miles continued staring at him for a moment, before nodding, and diving into his bedroom. A few moments later he rushed back to the front and began pounding on the door, his clothes changed and fear in his movements.

          A woman stepped out a few moments later, pushing curly hair behind her ear and looking at her son. She was dressed in scrubs, looking like she had just gotten off of a shift, her body still holding all of its stress between its shoulders, and her gaze that had been sharp and almost panicked softened into a mixture of concern and surprise when she saw Miles standing there. She ducked down immediately, reaching out with both hands and taking Miles’ shoulders in her gentle, if not steady grip, and began speaking to him in worried, but mostly soothing Spanish.

          Peter gave a slight nod at the sight, respect building for her already. Miles threw a glance their way, waving, and Peni slid out of SP//dr, the mech ducking low and camouflaging immediately. Peter helped her onto his shoulder in a move he knew Pete had performed first, and the other two moved into position to better hold Pete steady, Porker still applying pressure. Miles made a gesture at his own room, just as a man ran forward into view, and the other three made the leap over to Miles’ room when given permission.

          “Tenemos que ayudarlo, mamá,” Peter could hear Miles saying in Spanish as he led his parents over to his room with hurried feet, the sound of a door slamming a second later, “Por favor, tenemos que ayudarlo, él... él me salvó, y está tan... está tan herido, por favor”

          The door was thrown open then, that man that Peter hadn’t really had a chance to glance at before suddenly standing before them all suddenly standing before him. He was tall, broad-shouldered in a way that Peter’s physique could never pull off, particularly now (but he wasn’t thinking about that), and he was definitely the larger threat, the one that was actively going to be worried about what was being brought into his home, what was being brought near his family.

          Peter could respect that intimately.

          It was the reason why as soon as he knew that the man had taken a good look at the five of them, taken in their bedraggled appearance and the costumes, and had finally focused on him as being not only the tallest but the one in the costume that would be so iconic to their universe that Peter stood up slowly. Holding his hands up, Peter reached up to his head, and pulled off the mask. The man’s eyes widened in surprise at the face that was revealed to him, taking in the lines, the gray to his hair, the fact that he knew that face, and Peter took another step forward, his hands still held up. He heard Miles gasp in surprise at the sight of him taking off his mask, but he didn’t acknowledge the kid.

          “Hola, mí nombre es Peter Parker…” he said in Spanish, it having been the language that he had heard as they entered in the door, and the sight of Miles’ as well as his mother and father all boggling was mildly amusing for a moment. He stepped to the side when he knew he had their attention and gestured to Pete lying still on the ground, Porker finally able to move from on top of him, taking the coat with him. “Please, we need your help,” he finished, and Miles’ mother reacted with a gasp.

          They hadn’t bothered to reclothe Pete, knowing that it would eat up too much of their already limited time, and it needed to be removed anyway. It left his chest and the ugly gashes with their black blood and their white webbing visible, as well as the awful discolored bruises on his chalk-white skin. The woman dropped to her knees down next to him, her eyes as wide as possible.

          ”Dios mío,” she started in soft Spanish, “Why is he so white? What…what happened? Why haven’t you taken him to a hospital?” She asked finally, turning her gaze back to Peter, the questions in English, but they were almost…afterthoughts, unimportant, gesturing at her husband with her other hand in a way that he seemed to recognize immediately. Her husband immediately ran out of the room towards another deeper into the apartment, not only showing that he trusted them but also just how closely-knit their bond was. Peter’s respect grew just that much more in the way only another married couple’s could at the sight of such blatant understanding.

          “Alternate dimensions,” Peter started. “He’s from one without color. Like…literally without color, it’s pretty wild. Everyone’s from an alternate dimension.” The woman reached up for his mask to pull it the rest of the way off, and Peter immediately ducked down, “Wait, wait, that’s a no-no. If he wakes up and finds his mask missing, he might think that he’s being held captive.”

          She nodded, and that was when her husband returned with a downright impressive first-aid kit. He dropped it next to her and moved into position to grab whatever she wanted.

          “What about the webbing, does it need to come out?” She asked.

          “No, it’s biodegradable, a bit like liquid stitch, but I…ran out…” Peter blinked.

          “Alright. I don’t have any staples, we need to close it the old-fashioned way, does anyone have a blood count or anything?” she asked. Her husband held out a hooked needle that had already been prepared and she took it with a nod of her head, suture thread pulled out and threaded through.

          “I have the information!” Peni called out and waved her small stack of paper that she had brought with her. She spread it out next to the woman and began talking to her as the woman started her sutures. As her attention turned to that, her husband’s attention turned to them, but ultimately stuck to Peter. Peter did his best to square his shoulders and stand up straight, doing his best not to squirm under the taller man’s scrutiny. He could do this.

          “Who are you?” he asked, squaring his shoulders further and using all of his intimidating height to loom over him. It would probably be more intimidating if Peter hadn’t faced down the Goblin.

          “Peter Parker of an alternate universe.” Peter responded, “Can I…ask your name or are you the one going to be asking the questions?”

          The man paused, taking him in before finally giving a brusque, “Jefferson Davis. If you’re from an alternate universe how did you get here?”

          “Kingpin.” Peter watched the sudden flash of understanding on Davis’ face. “A while back he linked everything up and we all got dragged here. On one hand it was the worst because we were being physically torn apart, on the other…it brought us together, and that was…kind of amazing.” Peter looked to the other Spiders, his expression fonder than he wanted to admit. “We fought to come back together and in particular to get back here because…we had to leave before we were able to help your Spider-Man before we could turn off the collider.”

          “You were there? Why did you…why did you have to leave?” Davis took a step forward, his eyes flashing with some odd mixture between anger and concern, and Peter knew that Davis had obviously bonded with the newest Spider. “Do you know what you left him to? Why didn’t you finish the job?”

          “Because we were literally falling apart. Our cells were rebelling against being in your world and our bodies were…less than happy about it. We left because we were being more of a hindrance than a help, and because…he wanted us to. Because he knew he could stop Kingpin, and we trusted in that. We trusted in him.” Peter saw the way that Miles was staring at him, the wide dark eyes and the awe written on his face and he didn’t say anything more.

          Davis paused, taking in that answer, and finally giving a heavy sigh. “Alright. Alright, I can…I can accept that. But why did you come back?”

          “Because we wanted to be sure, and because learning how to be Spider-Man? It can be pretty tough on your own and believe me, I would know. I started at 15 and let me tell you what, balancing homework and saving the world was a pretty tough gig. I owed him a better lesson.” Peter hesitated. “We all saw what happened to your world’s Peter Parker. We’re trying to stick together more so…so what happened to him doesn’t happen to the others that put on the mask. Or at least…if it does, there’s a support-system in place.”

          Davis paused, obviously thinking, his head lowering as he took a step back. “Alright. Then what…what happened to him?” he gestured at Pete and Peter took a breath.

          “It was a…bad time. We jumped into the wrong spot at the wrong time and...without that warning he wasn’t able to compensate. We were looking for your Spider-Man, but we found your kid instead. Or he found us. When he saw what happened to him and how he was hurt he told us about his mom and about her being a nurse. We…couldn’t take him to a hospital. We couldn’t think of a way to explain the black and white thing, and we can’t exactly be taking off masks everywhere, and…when he promised us it wouldn’t be an intrusion, that you’d help us…we took him up on it.” Peter met Davis’ eyes directly, trying to convey everything, the stress, the worry, and beneath it all the overwhelming gratitude. “I’m very sorry for barging in on you like this, and for asking all of this from you, but…I’m grateful that you were so quick to help us. It means a lot.”

          Peter watched as Davis huffed out a sigh and took another step back and felt a bubble of satisfaction rise in his chest.

          Still got it.

          “Alright, alright. I’m sorry for looming and…I trust you. Miles is a good kid, I’m glad he was there when you needed him, though he shouldn't have been anywhere out and about.” Davis turned to look at his son with a frown, and a look that said they would talk later. 

          “I'm glad that he was there, as well,” Peter agreed without hesitation, turning the conversation and the attention back to him.

          “How old did you say you were?” Davis asked him.

          “I didn’t, but I’m thirty-seven. Been Spider-Man 22 years, so I’ve got a bit of experience.” He smirked slightly. “Gotta whip these kids into shape.” Just like that, Davis gives a brief huff of a laugh, and a smile slowly spread across his face.

          “Alright. I…I have some questions I want to ask you later, but…for now I think I’m good.”

          “Good,” Peter returned the grin with one of his own, “Who’s the one helping my buddy?”

          “Oh, I’m sorry, that’s my wife, Rio Morales,” Davis introduced. “She’s good, you won’t need to worry about your friend.” Mrs. Morales looked up from looking at the information Peni gave her just enough to give them a nod before going back to reading.

          “I’m Gwen Stacy,” Gwen said suddenly, pulling her own mask off and looking up at Jefferson. “I…I’m also grateful for you guy’s helping us.”

          “Peni Parker,” Peni said then looking up with her wide and shimmering eyes. “Thank you for this.”

          “Peter Porker,” Porker introduced, pulling off his own mask and holding up a hand that…wasn’t wet, Peter saw with a brief flash of annoyance. “Nice to meet you.”

          Davis stared down the pig for a moment, before finally reaching out and taking the other’s hand, giving a brief shake. “Um…yeah…? Nice to…um, meet you too?”

          Took it like a champ, Peter grinned. He liked these people. Kind of made him feel bad about lying through his teeth, but it was all for Miles. At that thought he finally risked a glance at the teen, catching eyes that were so round and so…amazed they made him feel like he had just moved a mountain, and that was all the confirmation he needed to know that he had truly done good. God, he had missed that feeling.

          “I’ve done all I can for him,” Mrs. Morales finally said, looking up at them, brushing her hair back with a black-stained hand. Pete’s chest had been wrapped in gauze, which matched the color of his skin almost perfectly. It was a very discomforting sight, and Peter shifted slightly. “He has cracked ribs, a great deal of bruising, and has lost a lot of blood, on top of what is likely one hell of a concussion, but he’ll live. Judging from the charts Peni printed, he’ll likely be out of it for another few hours at least, but all that leather he seems to be wearing protected him from anything worse. He was lucky." The gaze that she flashed them all was intense, her mouth in a fine line. 

          The relief that ran through everyone was staggering, Peter finding himself sitting before he even realized what was happening, the other Spider’s dropping into a similar stance.

          “Thank @#%&!” Porker shouted out, his hands over his blue eyes, that blond tuft of hair on his head whipping. “I was gonna have to kill him if he died!”

          The exclamation broke a scattered laugh out of them, something half-hysterical and half-genuine.

          “Watch your language,” Davis scolded, with a slight frown, but he looked happy as well. Mrs. Morales made a sound suddenly, her eyes locked on Gwen's leg. 

          "You didn't mention anyone else was injured..." she frowned, and they stiffened slightly. What began was more mothering than Peter B could remember happening in a long time. The fight with Lizard had been hard on everyone. 

          These were good people, Peter finally decided. He was happy that Miles’ had parents like them. When they invited them all to stay with them for as long as it took for their friend to be up and moving, as well as their own injuries to be healed, it solidified that warmth and made Peter hopeful that Miles would be able to open up to his parents sooner rather than later. Peter didn’t really feel bad about lying, but he knew that the longer it took…the worse the fallout would potentially get.

          Either way, the rest of the Spiders were there for him, and he promised himself that he’d be there, too.

          For now...they would wait for Pete to wake up, and hope that he would forgive them for what had happened. 

#spiderverse #spiderman #peni parker #miles morales #jeff davis #rio morales #peter parker #peter benjamin parker #spidernoir #spiderham #peter porker #gwen stacy #absolute nonsensical medical stuff #but it's fun #i am out here for jeff davis and rio morales #also also the absolute way i lost my entire soul laughing #when they insisted to be called by their last names only #i wrote this when the first movie came out #i was like nah #gosh #enjoy

[platinumrosetail]

Shadowpeach, DBK ,freenoodles spicy noodles, Silktea x baby spider Queen daughter separate

So Spider Queen was keeping something a secret and she was going to tell everyone after she killed sun his lover and Cub but the lbd killed her but unknown to everyone she had a egg this one perfect and she wanted them safe so she hide it in a sof place and when it hacth she made sure they are safe telling them about her soon to be subjects.

But of course it doesn't happen and little baby stay waiting for her mama and listen to her not move

Waiting and crying but then hear something get thorw into the cave that was hiding and keep her safe and see one of the boys fighting a Demon and then the demon get stuck in the webs

The reader quickly hide's scard and looks for her mama but when she run her baby kimko show her Spider half and she hiss at them. And they quickly yell to there lovers that they found what the slider queen was hiding and figured more then her life for.

And trying to help her out ( mk and Macaque I know you have spider fear but come on this cute is your daughter)

And they get her us to them and take care of them and say she the spider princess

Ooh the poor boys who have fear for spiders, and I didn’t know macaque had a fear for them I honestly thought it was just mk, so that’s good to know, thank you!

I also watched that clip you showed me and omg was it good!! Thanks for showing me as I never had a clue on what it was called.

Warning: noob author, dark theme, yandere platonic characters, female child reader, and others.

Characters: shadowpeach, SpicyNoodles, dbk.

This will have part two!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadowpeach:

You were the spider queens heir to her throne and only child, and after you had hatched she made sure to keep you safe; telling you to not move from that area before leaving.

You didn’t know how much time had passed but you still stayed in the spot your mother had told you to stay in.

You kept on calling out in hopes she just forgot the spot as she seemed to have always had something on her mind when she spends time with you but it never works as she never comes back you even fear the worst though that doesn’t last long as you always give yourself a pep talk that you mama is strong and she wouldn’t die.

In one of the calling sessions you heard something before a loud crash came; you stopped in fear that it’s not your mama.

You had started to hear the sound of struggle and fighting then more struggle; you guessed it was because one or both had themselves caught in the web your mama had told you about that surrounded the area your hiding in.

The sound of the intruders had come closer and closer to your hiding spot so in fear you ran as fast as you could.

The one who was close to your hiding spot was sun wukong; you heard about him from your mother and from the way she talks about him you don’t want to get close.

You looked human to sun but then he quickly noticed the spider legs you had that was previously covered by a big shirt that swayed as you ran allowing him to see your spider half.

Sun quickly called his mate over and told him what he saw about you and how maybe you’re what spider queen was hiding which lead to macaque to go after you as you probably don’t know what had happened to your mother and need someone to take care of you.

Macaque found you after a bit and made sure to have sun away so he doesn’t disturb him gaining your trust.

You didn’t really hear much about macaque from your mother but that he is the mate and lover to sun and that they have a cub named mk.

You started to trust him as they kept on coming back down here, sometimes with food, or mk, and sometimes both.

You noticed how they didn’t act like your mother had told you about them, so you began to trust them more and more.

They will make sure they stay with you as your mother couldn’t before. They’ll make sure you’re safe and comfortable even if that means keeping you isolated.

Spicynoodles:

Redson was the one who found you as him and his boyfriend fought the demon that had attacked them.

He had found you after he fired one of his fire to try and get a hit on the demon which burned a few webs that was helping hiding you from intruders.

You didn’t have much time to run and hide again as mk had grabbed you and pulled you away from the demon’s attack that was really aimed at redson but will also hurt you as well, mk made sure redson wasn’t hurt at which made the red head demon fluster and become his tsudere self like always.

You never really heard of redson, only when your mother is talking about mk is when you hear about redson but other than that it only has been mk, sun and macaque, which you met them as they brought you out of your hiding spot.

You kinda trust mk more than redson as he seems to have a bit of a temper but he does tries his best to keep his voice lowered or else you’ll run and hide like when they first met you.

When they showed you to the others they all had mixed feelings; pigsy and tang very skeptical but tried to be open about it, sandy and mei were ok with it, with sandy being more ok with it; sun thought you were so adorable and while macaque in the middle of everything, dbk and pif weren’t really in for their son to adopt you much less with their enemy’s son but tried to be more open even if it was hard.

All in all redson is shocked that mk isn’t scared of your spider half, it’s probably because of what had happened to spider queen.

(A/n: I accidentally keep on making the first one long while the others short than the first, I’m sorry about that 😅 anyway hope y’all like it and have a wonderful day/evening/night!!)

(Also here will be part two

#various x reader #anime #anime x reader #x reader stories #lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid #jttw #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #lmk spider queen #lmk mk #lmk red son #shadowpeach #lmk spicynoodles #platonic #yandere x reader #yandere

[hamsahoney777]

The Fifth World, what is it?

In both indigenous and jewish mysticism reality is based upon four different "Worlds" of formation. Multiple groups of humans have idenitfied the same spiritual reality exists. This is a very brief post and is in no way a full piece on the totality of understanding of the interconnectedness of All. My hope is that this allows you to learn at least one thing and give you avenues of personal research and experience.

The now pan-indigenous story of "Grandmother Spider spinning four webs of creation from the fifth web" gives understanding to the anishinaabe dreamcatcher and how the fifth world, or dimension, is accessed through our dream state.

These four webs are called worlds in Jewish mysticism. They are emanation, creation, formation, and action, at least in English. As one walks through each world, the level of consciousness raises.

The entity that has been introduced in this post as "Grandmother Spider" is given the title "Ein Sof" in our cultural practices. Both sit beyond this realm entirely, allowing for it's creation eternally.

We access this plane of consciousness or fifth dimension through our dream state. If you are interested in truly exploring this plane of existence, it is highly recommended to wear silver to sleep. It will act as an umbilical cord to allow your spirit to return to your vessel. To not wear silver would be foolish and allow for the possibility of sleep paralysis or DEATH DURING THE SLEEP STATE.

With silver, there is minimal risk involved.

Personally, there is a sterling silver necklace I do not take off, even to shower or sleep. You won't have to do that unless you are truly an active dreamer, in which case it is encouraged.

There is so much more to this realm than what humans have been conditioned to believe is true. Your dreams are so much more real than anything on earth.

#dream magic

[duchess-of-tales]

was tagged by @leer-reading-lire​ Thank you very much for tagging me! :)

7 COVERS IN 7 DAYS

Rules: Each day, I will post the cover of a book that I love and nominate someone new to start the challenge.

Tagging: @selkiewife​

#anansi boys #neil gaiman #one of my favourites #look how beautiful the cover is #the sof spider web

[janekfan]

Thank you so much @lymazhu for letting me illustrate these wonderful scenes for the @podcastbigbang!

Image IDs under the cut!

ID [Black and white drawing of Jon and Martin together. In the background is a cozy room that has gray curtains. The curtains are pulled to the side revealing a bright day. On the window sill is a pot with a small flower. Under the sill is a glass container that has an assortment of objects including books. In the forefront is a white plush chair. In the chair Martin is holding Jon who's sitting on the floor leaning back into the touch. Martin has short black hair and freckles. He's wearing a sweater and has grey pants. Jon's visible from the shoulder up. His shirt is white and lose fitting. He has a scar on his neck and spotted scars all over his body. Jon's skin is dark and his eyes are half-lidded. He has the start of a beard mustache combo. His hair is black and white it's long and very curly.] End ID

[begin ID: A black-and-white digital drawing of Jon and Mog, the cat. Jon is a Jordanian man with long curly, salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a loose, low ponytail. He's just fallen face-first onto the floor. He's wearing a striped jumper, slacks, and dark shoes. Next to his left is an armchair with fringe at the bottom. Mog, a long-haired, with a little white on his chest, black cat, sits in the armchair. Next to the armchair is a small side table with a few books on it, and a cane resting against it. In the background are cupboards and a closet. end ID]

#The Magnus Archives #TMA #Jmart #Jonmartin #Mog! #Cat! #Jumpers! #sof touches #scars #cane user Jon #curly hair #fainting #spider webs #i am proud of them #hair braiding #fic art #lymazhu #podcast big bang 2021

[siderealxmelody]

It

@thevictoryofthepeople - look! It's finally done!!!

@silentwcrds - the entity I was telling you about!!

@waywardlightbearer - more lore!

@candy-addicted-angel - one of your ocs with one of its children??

@sigynofficial - not sure if you're interested, but this is why Loki is insane! 😅🥺

@ckingsbury1967

It has many names Eyn Sof, Ohr Raz, Azathoth, Anasi, The Spider Mother. It sits in its web at the center of the universe watching everything.

I should know, I am from it. It tastes all the worship fed to it, all the gods power come from it. The silver strings coming from its swollen body push its power outward. The power is much like starlight, weaker it gets from the source.

Many of the races have different ideas for why it made the universe. Some say it was because it was a thing of vanity and universe was spoken into existence to worship and entertain it. Others say,  universe was spoken  to make it look inward and explore itself more. Some even think, the universe was spoken on a whim, it has no interest or care for everything. It merely keeps the universe  around because it forgot it existed. 

In truth the universe was spoken into existence while it dreamed, a reflection of its dreams. A mirror to understand itself with. Past universes according to it had began with a specific intention. This one had began on accident and it decided this one would help it understand itself. And in this one it wouldn't be removed, it would walk its creation. Do diary entries of each day of its journey. 

So in a way, all of the theories are right. You're probably wondering how I know all of this, am I one of its heralds? Am I it?

No, I am of it, I am its child. It has many, they are always crawling over each other and on our parent. 

Our parent can't or doesn't wish to control when any of our siblings appear. Our eggs are pushed to the surface of its body and we must tear our way out. 

It's survival of the fittest, we all start out weak and sickly. If we don't find a way to survive our parent or bigger siblings will eat us. 

Most of us never make it past the nest, too weak and scared to leave our parent's safety. 

But some of us can be saved, I was. My oldest sister found me and took me in. She taught me everything I know. 

I love her, I truly do but the things she dreams of are childish. We will never be free of our parent. We can go nowhere where it can't see us. 

Some of return the favor and save some of our younger siblings. Sometimes I have them work for me or sell them to people who will have use for them.

But this entry isn't about my family's internal politics.

No, this is about it and how it relates to its creation. 

Sometimes it walks the worlds letting itself be swept up in whoever's life it has come across. If this lifeform has impressed it it will offer them a blessing. It will tell them what it is, the nature of the universe. It will ask if they wish to help it like they had before. If the lifeforms say yes it will make make a Gardener depending on their life. 

Reapers were individuals who dealt death in their previous life. It is their job to cull its children if they get too be too much of a problem. Sowers were the individuals who dealt with life in their previous life. They act to keep the universe in balance. They speak to the other lifeforms, they act as it's messengers, gently guiding the lifeforms when needed. Lastly, are the Tillers They were thinkers in their past life. They advise the children that have left its nest. They try to keep us from gaining too much of its attention. 

From personal experience my siblings and I aren't huge fans of the Gardeners. We see them as stuck up, and spoiled. I will be the first to admit I am jealous of them. They understand and know our parent in a way we were never allowed to. 

So far only 7 of us have escaped the nest. I know not what all six of my siblings do with their time. I try to stay away from the lifeforms. I was reckless once and decided to manipulate a lifeforms fate so they'd never be given their birthright of king. Now he heads a genocidal council and craves power in a way that makes me nervous. 

My eldest sister, Sadopa wishes to make us a home. She has made an artificial planet far from any of the other lifeforms. I do not find it very appealing but I hold my tongue, for she hasn't asked my opinion. 

Then there is Rirevu she acts more like a force than an individual. She bends lifeforms to her will. Last I checked she had subjugated an entire planet and found a way for them to worship her and her alone. Though I suspect our parent still gains the worship through its connection to my sister. The people of this planet call Rirevu their Exarch of The Stars, The Black Death, Their Dark Lord, and their Paragon of Red. 

I worry of her plans but our parent hasn't stopped her so I suppose it will all be okay. 

I know though when this universe ends so will all of us, it will consume us all, chaining us in its multicolored threads. A tiny part of me feels it will be glorious that that is when I will feel truly alive. That this moment before me, this existence stretching before me is excruciating and agonizing in contrast. But a bigger part of me is terrified and wishes futilely for the inevitable to never come. 

I rather be in this state of dread than dead. 

~ Excerpt from Dalazo's diary, found in Apollo's archives. Included with what looks like artwork of Sadopa, Rirevu, It and a Reaper.

#reference

[llamagoddessofficial]

Drider au.... (Spooder bois)

OHmyGOD okay so I’m incredibly arachnophobic (just images of spiders can make me jump) but honestly???? A giant spider skeleton boyfriend could wrap me up anytime ifuknowwhati’msayin. Obviously the non-spider half isn’t gonna be a drow it’s gonna be a sexy skeleton... so that would make them... Skiders?

The height differences at the head between the boys and Mc is the same... but that really doesn’t mean they should be considered small. For those who don’t know what a drider is, or the rough spider -> skeleton body proportion I imagine:

So yeah. Skull is gonna be fucking huge

Sans: All skiders have their extra-large venom delivery teeth over the top of their regular teeth- and Sans in particular is incredibly venomous, able to control his venom with deathly precision. One bite and he can paralyse you, send you into sleep for a length of his choosing, or instantly cause your organs to shutdown. He’s based off a sazima’s tarantula- his spider body is black and blue. He’s also a mobile little shit and can jump with surprising agility considering his size.

He probably befriended Mc when they were both small and she went into the woods. Most skiders learn very quickly that humans don’t want anything to do with them, and might kill them... but they would play together, a newly hatched and lonely skider immediately falling for Mc when she didn’t run away from him like the other human kids did. In return he kept her safe no matter what.

Red: Red prefers active hunting- he’s not one for digging out a den and waiting for some idiot to stumble in and decide to spend the night. As such he’s met more than his fair share of hunters out to kill him due to his particular taste for human blood. He can eat animals, sure, but... human blood is his favourite. He’s based on a Brazilian wandering spider, and his markings are black and crimson.

He’s a... ‘friend’ (hunting partner) of Sans who kidnaps Mc upon mistaking her for prey. She talks to him a bit, trying to convince him not to chomp her, and he almost agrees to let her go... but just at that moment Sans comes out of nowhere and starts a vicious fight. Sans is pissed Red almost ate his future wife and Red thinks Sans is just trying to steal his quarry- meanwhile Mc is sitting there webbed up in a tree absolutely petrified she’s about to be spiderfood.

Once they calm down, she’s released from her sticky situation (hehehehe) and Red starts paying her regular visits, much to Sans’ chagrin.

Skull: You thought naga Skull was scary. This mf will make you piss yourself in terror when you see him. He’s gigantic, his venom delivery teeth are the size of your hand, he’s covered in scars and marks, he’s got a spear and several small knives embedded into the back of his giant abdomen... a physical reminder of the last-minute struggling attempts to live from the huntsmen who so stupidly walked into his den thinking they could kill him. His legs alone are longer than Mc is tall, and he’s roughly based off of a goliath birdeater spider, just red and black.

His injuries mean he lost the ability to create webbing so he relies on paralysing his victims with his venom or overwhelming them with sheer strength in order to make a kill. He bit Mc after stalking her, intending on eating her... but then quickly realised he didn’t want to eat her (pretty and sof) and spent a few days caring for her in the safety of his den until the toxins gradually wore off. During that time she got over her fear of him and they bonded over dumb nerdy things like their favourite types of plant... that he would then go out and collect for her, mostly to make her feel better but also because he was quickly developing a crush.

#llamagines #skider au #researching for this au was just me having several heart attacks as various images of terrifying eight leggy bastards appeared on my screen #hope youre happy #dont say i dont make sacrifices for yall

[perspectivepodcast]

[Transcript] Side A: Infinity Times Infinity

In their song entitled ‘Sun’, music band Sleeping At Last sing: “We are the dust of dust. We are the apple of God’s eye. We are infinite as the universe we hold inside. Infinity times infinity.”

 In an interview to Krista Tippett for her ‘On Being’ podcast, physician and writer Rachel Naomi Remen tells a story her grandfather had told her when she was a child, the story of the first day of the world. “[T]his was my fourth birthday present, this story.” Remen recalls, “This is the story of the birthday of the world. In the beginning, there was only the holy darkness, the Ein Sof, the source of life. Then, in the course of history, at a moment in time, this world, the world of a thousand thousand things, emerged from the heart of the holy darkness as a great ray of light. And then, perhaps because this is a Jewish story, there was an accident. And the vessels containing the light of the world, the wholeness of the world, broke. And the wholeness in the world, the light of the world, was scattered into a thousand thousand fragments of light. And they fell into all events and all people, where they remain deeply hidden until this very day. Now, according to my grandfather, the whole human race is a response to this accident. We are here because we are born with the capacity to find the hidden light in all events and all people; to lift it up and make it visible once again and, thereby, to restore the innate wholeness of the world. This is a very important story for our times — that we heal the world one heart at a time. This task is called “tikkun olam” in Hebrew, “restoring the world.”

Krista Tippett at this point of the interview asks Remen if there is “a connection between the story of the sparks and tikkun olam in Jewish tradition? Are they bound together?”

“They’re exactly the same.” Replies Remen, “Tikkun olam is the restoration of the world. And this is, of course, a collective task. It involves all people who have ever been born, all people presently alive, all people yet to be born. We are all healers of the world. And that story opens a sense of possibility. It’s not about healing the world by making a huge difference. It’s about healing the world that touches you, that’s around you.”

 In the prelude to her book ‘Figuring’, Maria Popova writes: “All of it — the rings of Saturn and my father’s wedding band, the underbelly of the clouds pinked by the rising sun, Einstein’s brain bathing in a jar of formaldehyde, every grain of sand that made the glass that made the jar and each idea Einstein ever had, the shepherdess singing in the Rila mountains of my native Bulgaria and each one of her sheep, every hair on Chance’s velveteen dog ears and Marianne Moore’s red braid and the whiskers of Montaigne’s cat, every translucent fingernail on my friend Amanda’s newborn son, every stone with which Virginia Woolf filled her coat pockets before wading into the River Ouse to drown, every copper atom composing the disc that carried arias aboard the first human-made object to enter interstellar space and every oak splinter of the floor-boards onto which Beethoven collapsed in the fit of fury that cost him his hearing, the wetness of every tear that has ever been wept over a grave and the yellow of the beak of every raven that has ever watched the weepers, every cell in Galileo’s fleshy finger and every molecule of gas and dust that made the moons of Jupiter to which it pointed, the Dipper of freckles constellating the olive firmament of a certain forearm I love and every axonal flutter of the tenderness with which I love her, all the facts and figments by which we are perpetually figuring and reconfiguring reality — it all banged into being 13.8 billion years ago from a single source, no louder than the opening note of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, no larger than the dot levitating over the small i, the I lowered from the pedestal of ego.

How can we know this and still succumb to the illusion of separateness, of otherness? This veneer must have been what the confluence of accidents and atoms known as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., saw through when he spoke of our “inescapable network of mutuality,” what Walt Whitman punctured when he wrote that “every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”

One autumn morning, as I read a dead poet’s letters in my friend Wendy’s backyard in San Francisco, I glimpse a fragment of that atomic mutuality. Midsentence, my peripheral vision — that glory of instinct honed by millennia of evolution — pulls me toward a miraculous sight: a small, shimmering red leaf twirling in midair. It seems for a moment to be dancing its final descent. But no — it remains suspended there, six feet above ground, orbiting an invisible center by an invisible force. For an instant I can see how such imperceptible causalities could drive the human mind to superstition, could impel medieval villagers to seek explanation in magic and witchcraft. But then I step closer and notice a fine spider’s web glistening in the air above the leaf, conspiring with gravity in this spinning miracle.

Neither the spider has planned for the leaf nor the leaf for the spider — and yet there they are, an accidental pendulum propelled by the same forces that cradle the moons of Jupiter in orbit, animated into this ephemeral early-morning splendor by eternal cosmic laws impervious to beauty and indifferent to meaning, yet replete with both to the bewildered human consciousness beholding it.

We spend our lives trying to discern where we end and the rest of the world begins. We snatch our freeze-frame of life from the simultaneity of existence by holding on to illusions of permanence, congruence, and linearity; of static selves and lives that unfold in sensical narratives. All the while, we mistake chance for choice, our labels and models of things for the things themselves, our records for our history. History is not what happened, but what survives the shipwrecks of judgment and chance.

Some truths, like beauty, are best illuminated by the sidewise gleam of figuring, of meaning-making. In the course of our figuring, orbits intersect, often unbeknownst to the bodies they carry — intersections mappable only from the distance of decades or centuries. Facts crosshatch with other facts to shade in the nuances of a larger truth — not relativism, no, but the mightiest realism we have. We slice through the simultaneity by being everything at once: our first names and our last names, our loneliness and our society, our bold ambition and our blind hope, our unrequited and part-requited loves. Lives are lived in parallel and perpendicular, fathomed nonlinearly, figured not in the straight graphs of “biography” but in many-sided, many-splendored diagrams. Lives interweave with other lives, and out of the tapestry arise hints at answers to questions that raze to the bone of life: What are the building blocks of character, of contentment, of lasting achievement? How does a person come into self-possession and sovereignty of mind against the tide of convention and unreasoning collectivism? Does genius suffice for happiness, does distinction, does love? Two Nobel Prizes don’t seem to recompense the melancholy radiating from every photograph of the woman in the black laboratory dress. Is success a guarantee of fulfillment, or merely a promise as precarious as a marital vow? How, in this blink of existence bookended by nothingness, do we attain completeness of being?

There are infinitely many kinds of beautiful lives.

So much of the beauty, so much of what propels our pursuit of truth, stems from the invisible connections — between ideas, between disciplines, between the denizens of a particular time and a particular place, between the interior world of each pioneer and the mark they leave on the cave walls of culture, between faint figures who pass each other in the nocturne before the torchlight of a revolution lights the new day, with little more than a half-nod of kinship and a match to change hands.”

 We all come from nowhere, and from everywhere. But are we worthy of the infinity we contain and are?

 In her illustrated book ‘Eating the Sun’, writer and illustrator Ella Frances Sanders writes about the sense of awe the infinity we are made of and surrounded by inspires. “A sense of wonder can find you in many forms,” Sanders writes, “sometimes loudly, sometimes as a whispering, sometimes even hiding inside other feelings — being in love, or unbalanced, or blue.

For me, it is looking at the night for so long that my eyes ache and I’m stuck seeing stars for hours afterwards, watching the way the ocean sways itself to sleep, or as the sky washes itself in colors for which I know I will never have the words — a world made from layers of rock and fossil and glittered imaginings that keeps tripping me up, demanding I pay attention to one leaf at a time, ensuring I can never pick up quite where I left off.”

Astronomer and poet Rebecca Elson published only one collection of poetry in her too brief lifetime, and it was entitled ‘A Responsibility to Awe’. Are we ever able to live up to that responsibility to awe, to the universe in its infinitely changing expressions?

Sanders goes on: “Depending on where you look, what you touch, you are changing all the time. The carbon inside you, accounting for about 18 percent of your being, could have existed in any number of creatures or natural disasters before finding you. That particular atom residing somewhere above your left eyebrow? It could well have been a smooth, riverbed pebble before deciding to call you home.

You see, you are not so soft after all; you are rock and wave and the peeling bark of trees, you are ladybirds and the smell of a garden after the rain. When you put your best foot forward, you are taking the north side of a mountain with you. […]

A lot of our time is spent trying to tie up loose ends, trying to shape disorder into something recognizably smooth, trying to escape the very limits that hold us close, happily ignoring rough edges and the inevitable. We separate ourselves out into past, present, and future, if only to show that we have changed, that we know better, that we have understood something inherent; if only to draw neat lines from start to finish without looking back.

The problem is that chaos is always only ever sitting just across the table, frequently glancing up from its newspaper, from its coffee cup filled with discolored and imploding stars. Because chaos too waits. Waits for you to notice it, for you to realize it’s the most dazzling thing you’ve ever seen, for all of your atoms to collectively shriek in belated recognition and stare, mouth open, at how exquisitely embedded it is in everything. Because we are not designed to be more orderly than anything else; seams have a tendency to come apart with time — you and the universe are the same in this way, which makes for a delicately overwhelming struggle.

So, then, if you can’t ever end things neatly, can’t ever put them back quite the way you found them, surely the alternative is to remain stubbornly carbonated with possibility, to never rest from your rotation. To keep assembling stories between us, stories about how everything was everything, about how much we loved.”

 Tell me, can we really embrace the infinite facets of the same infinite oneness we all are?