#pottery shards peter is like

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

IDK 🤷‍♀️ I just love feral Peter let him commit war and federal crimes and let him be a gremlin child that my favorite Peter

god that's what i'm saying. everyone's like "oh he's such a sweet sunshine boy he is innocence and hugs and sweetness" no he's fucking insane. you don't make the life decisions that leads to spiderman and not be fucking insane. kid was fourteen and he decided to hurl himself off a building and kick flip a car thief. that's a traumatizing experience for everyone else involved. like can you fucking imagine you're an everyday petty criminal in the beginnings of spider-man, before he's really known, and some fucking dude in red and blue sweatpants just flings himself off a lamp post in the dead of night and suddenly you're dangling upside down and god fucking knows when you'll get free again. i'd move to philly or chicago or some shit where this fucking thing doesn't happen. can't have shit in new york. let peter be insane.

[thegreatobsesso]

sleep, scatter, urge, paint, & involve

sleep

Callie POV

Peter shrugged off his sweater jacket thing and held it behind her, leading her hands toward the holes. Then she let him put one of her freshly-sweatered arms around his waist to steady herself as they stumbled back to her room.

“I have a secret,” she sang as he helped her get her key in the magic-hole. “And I’m not gonna tell you what it is, no - matter - what.”

She pinched her fingers and pulled them across her lips, like a zipper.

“That’s fine,” he said, smiling at her as the wards pulled back. Why was he smiling at her? She was a hot mess, all smudged make-up and unsteady feet. “Tomorrow you can tell me all about the secrets you’re not gonna tell me.”

He came in just far enough to supervise her descent into bed, and she fell asleep without taking off her shoes.

scatter

Callie POV

Peter had mastered this, the mounting pressure screaming inside her. He was strong.

She was nothing but a loaded gun in a shaking hand.

She let it go.

For a single, glorious second, she became magic and she was sure it killed her. She was the white-hot center of a nuclear blast that flattened the foliage in every direction. Birds screamed and scattered.

She was alive. Still in pain. Slumped over in the ruined grass, staring at her cold hands, still crackling.

If dad was right, then she’d surely go to hell, but it would also mean Peter was already in heaven.

urge

Callie POV

This, the small room at the end of an undecorated hall, must be the spare room Riley told her she’d be using. It was an afterthought of a space, containing only what was needed for someone to sleep there and be reasonably comfortable - a small bed with a khaki-colored comforter, a night stand, and a dresser Callie knew was empty without checking.

The whole place had the look of a model home, inoffensive to all and interesting to absolutely no one, so long as you stayed out of the basement.

She resisted the urge to pull up the carpet and check for trap doors. It was hard to believe they were going to break the preconceived notions of magic and science here, in some partially assembled page of a Pottery Barn catalog.

paint

Riley POV

When the glass above their heads shatters, Riley is one with every shard. She catches them before they hit the ground, the dewey night air rushing into the room while the hooded Swordsmen shield their heads. She wastes no time demonstrating her control, spinning the broken glass into an impressive whirlwind, finally settling it into the same shape she sees pinned onto their robes.

It almost makes her nauseous, the massive sword hovering underneath the vaulted remnants of a ceiling - it’s predictable, melodramatic, and worthy of Callie Ray.

It pays off. Their awed stares, the way she hears his name scattered across their whispers, confirm she’s done her job well. Her hands sting as she flexes them, holding her sculpture in place; she’s moving like she’s finger painting and every flutter is agony. Beneath the magic, she’s irritating her burns. She keeps her expression even.

Adrian’s hands come down on her shoulders, steady, proud.

“The heir of Nauxial,” he says, his voice cutting through the electrified din.

involve

Simon POV

“The obelisk,” Wayland managed, reading between the lines. “We need to destroy it.”

And he understood - the obelisk had their scent now and Adrian could use it to send his power out across miles.

But what could they do? He’d like nothing more than to destroy the godforsaken thing but they didn’t have the strength. Callie was straining, her arms trembling as she held the plant’s arms around too many assailants to count and Fallowhyde wouldn’t be down for long. Every one of their guards was trained to resist his control and he was most certainly not trained to break through when someone was trying to fight him off. Wayland had overextended, Janan was injured, and Lucinda was in such a shaken state he knew she wouldn’t get involved in the fray if her own life depended on it.

“We need to run,” he breathed, pulling himself up and reaching out to Janan. “Now.”

I have been consumed by work stress lately, but today is Saturday and I feel like myself again. Doing this was really fun. :)

Tagging @fearofahumanplanet, @winterandwords, @avrablake, @chauceryfairytales, and @jamieanovels with the new words sing, home, name, wild and blink 🥰

[stormcrow513]

I fucking love everything I've read from @polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup they are sooo good,

pretty sure their Spiderman/Punisher crossover (Pottery Shards I think the verse is called) is my fav though Franks utter despair of Peters life choices is glorious.

These Stupid Hells We Keep gutted me like a grizzly on a salmon, I love it forever

This gig needs to be bloodier but it'll do

Summary: “It’s been a while since I had a student,” muses the man. “Last few were a couple of shitheads. Still.” And Lisa thinks, I’m not dead yet. And then, I’m not dying today. Or: Stick finds an orphaned kid with enough grit to survive a gang shoot out. Taking her on as a student in no way endangers his life, because she doesn't have a surviving murderous father, no, really. Matty has a thing or two to say about it, though.

Author: @polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup

Note from submitter: A really fucking good series that looks at just how terrible Stick’s training is. Pretty sure this series is gonna stick with me forever. Mind the warnings

[sainthamlet]

andrey and peter stamatin share soul-shards precisely like kintsugi pottery. every time andrey's flame brings about a shattering, peter takes and tesselates until iridescent stitches keep its selfsame essence safe.

[hexandbalances]

Fall Reading List

The Darkening Age : The Christian Destruction of the Classical World by Catherine Nixey

A New York Times Notable Book - A New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice Named a Book of the Year by the Telegraph, the Spectator, the Observer, and BBC History Magazine.

In Harran, the locals refused to convert. They were dismembered, their limbs hung along the town's main street. In Alexandria, zealots pulled the elderly philosopher-mathematician Hypatia from her chariot and flayed her to death with shards of broken pottery. Not long before, their fellow Christians had invaded the city's greatest temple, smashing its world-famous statues and destroying all that was left of Alexandria's Great Library. Today we refer to Christianity's conquest of the West as a "triumph." But this victory entailed an orgy of destruction in which Jesus's followers attacked and suppressed classical culture, helping to pitch Western civilization into a thousand-year-long decline. In The Darkening Age, Catherine Nixey brilliantly resurrects this lost history, offering a wrenching account of the rise of Christianity and its terrible cost. "A feast of tales of murder, vandalism and] willful destruction . . . Nixey has a great story to tell, and she tells it exceptionally well." -- Guardian " A] bold, dazzling and provocative book." -- Peter Frankopan, best-selling author of The Silk Roads.

The Immortality Key : The Secret History of the Religion with No Name by Brian C. Muraresku

A groundbreaking, controversial dive into the role psychedelics have played in the human experience of the Divine and the development of religion throughout Western history. The Immortality Key connects the lost, psychedelic sacrament of Greek religion to early Christianity--exposing the true origins of Western Civilization. In the tradition of unsolved historical mysteries like David Grann's Killers of the Flower Moon and Douglas Preston's The Lost City of the Monkey God, Brian Muraresku's 10-year investigation takes the reader through Greece, Germany, Spain, France and Italy, offering unprecedented access to the hidden archives of the Louvre and the Vatican along the way. In The Immortality Key, Muraresku explores a little-known connection between the best-kept secret in Ancient Greece and Christianity. A secret with the capacity to revolutionize our understanding of the past and chart a bold, new course for the future. Before Jerusalem, before Rome, before Mecca--there was Eleusis: the spiritual capital of the ancient world. It promised immortality to Plato and the rest of Athens' greatest minds with a very simple formula: drink this potion, see God. Shrouded in secrecy for millennia, the Ancient Greek sacrament was buried when the newly Christianized Roman Empire obliterated Eleusis in the fourth century AD. Renegade scholars in the 1970s claimed the Greek potion was psychedelic, just like the original Christian Eucharist that replaced it. In recent years, vindication for the disgraced theory has been quietly mounting in the laboratory. The rapidly growing field of archaeological chemistry has proven the ancient use of visionary drugs. And with a single dose of psilocybin, the psycho-pharmacologists at Johns Hopkins and NYU are now turning self-proclaimed atheists into instant believers. With convincing analysis and a captivating spirit of quest, Muraresku mines science, classical literature, biblical scholarship and art to deliver the hidden key to eternal life, bringing us to what clinical psychologist William Richards calls "the edge of an awesomely vast frontier." Featuring a Foreword by Graham Hancock, the New York Times bestselling author of America Before: The Key to Earth's Lost Civilization.

Medusa : Solving the Mystery of the Gorgon by Stephen R. Wilk

Medusa, the Gorgon, who turns those who gaze upon her to stone, is one of the most popular and enduring figures of Greek mythology. Long after many other figures from Greek myth have been forgotten, she continues to live in popular culture. In this fascinating study of the legend of Medusa, Stephen R. Wilk begins by refamiliarizing readers with the story through ancient authors and classical artwork, then looks at the interpretations that have been given of the meaning of the myth through the years. A new and original interpretation of the myth is offered, based upon astronomical phenomena. The use of the gorgoneion, the Face of the Gorgon, on shields and on roofing tiles is examined in light of parallels from around the world, and a unique interpretation of the reality behind the gorgoneion is suggested. Finally, the history of the Gorgon since classical times is explored, culminating in the modern use of Medusa as a symbol of Female Rage and Female Creativity.

Wise Child by Monica Furlong

Children’s fiction. In a remote Scottish village, nine-year-old Wise Child is taken in by Juniper, a healer and sorceress. Then Wise Child’s mother, Maeve, a black witch, reappears. In choosing between Maeve and Juniper, Wise Child discovers the extent of her supernatural powers—and her true loyalties.

[crackcrocs]

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #3

3. Transformation Central

the entities of my personalities would like to come together in one voice that speaks through me, we or I call this collection of words from the mustiest corners of my brain to this note page to voice something that might come close to what I feel underneath the skin I wear. In all my unorganised words- I might even go as far as to call this a poem, titled:

‘TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL’

sub characters in my head would appreciate if this could be visualised & understood through as deep a lens as humanly possible. even I confuse myself so if you can decode or relate to any of this, wonderful. If not, I’m locked in my own mind, swallowed the keys to my soul.

SIMILARITIES & INTERCONNECTEDNESS BETWEEN HUMAN & PLANT CONSCIOUSNESS EXIST! if you look closely at my nose freckles you’ll see the resemblance of the constellations above. if you look at the human veins & the layout of a tree, this is further proof.

{VISUALS THROUGH A SEPIA WINDOW STARING @ THE AUTUMN LEAFS; IMAGINING THE SEEDS UNDERNEATH, THROUGH NUMB ROOT VESSELS THAT PERMEATE THROUGH EVERY MEMBRANE OF MY EXTERNAL TO INTERNAL ENVIRONMENT}

~FEATURING THE VICIOUS CYCLE OF DEPRESSION & PERFECTIONISM.

here goes:

What is this part of my mind ?

If you want; delve inside-

I may look sweet like Alice,

but underneath it all

I deteste looking in the mirror

-cos I see the mad hatter.

my inner child needs a platter-

full of care not distortion & abuse pls.

less fibbin would’ve been a breeze.

now following the dead fish in the stream!

HOW on EARTH do I fit with the cod & the Haddock?

I’m the rainbow fish- beat & battered.

dim my own light cos I’m too afraid to shine.

alone.

thieves tried to steal my shiny scales.

I sat and watched them grow.

In the sea realm they were mean gargantuan selfish whales, with poisonous shark fangs & alligator tails. scorpion hands. (gremlins)

and still they make me feel like the alien-

I cant take it.

Make it make sense ?

I can’t.

controller in my hand-

Off balance stance.  

anxiously I move round like a wobbly jelly.

where’s the button to balance my chi & shut out the ego ?

the teLLIE telling lies to our vision!

change the channel aura terracotta orange- daily dosage of vitamin D & C.

catch me sun gazing by the sea

head buzzin like a bee.

speaking from a dusty box

stuck on top of a forbidden shelf

cos I dunno how else.

I’m tryna delve deep but forgot how to dive

How can i visualise? scenery foggy-

the establishment man with the glue gun got me xD

inner monk burning but at peace

Cos I refuse to believe

If the only way is the American dream

Interconnected; like the frog in science -let’s dissect it!

down to every floating atom spirit neighbouring your door

subcategories & divisions, it’s more!

than the rich and the poor -prism that’s been built

do we all feel like a performance monkey on stilts?

will my data be extracted & used to mould a robots personality some day?

well obviously not.

does the price of our lives all amount down to slave ways?

LABOUR YAY!

but morals & values it seems we’ve forgot.

sO If i don’t speak its cos I’m lost.

or maybe i’m enlightened-

Standing at the edge of the porch;

watching TRYING to understand how the flowers grow.

questioning eVERYTHING man made!

I’ve stepped out of the perfect picture frame

I can see the coal pollute the sky

I need to hop on the train-

but I’m comfortable

Sunset to sunrise statue standing still.

what’s the ingredients to life’s yucky pie?

I’ve exceeded mental lotteries.

Sanity n universal peace would be a trophy.

TIL then I’ll be crafting & shaping a solid pottery reality,

with a few pence, gum, and a bandana of belongings tied to stick.

thinking one day I’ll be laying the bricks

& building a kingdom of bliss.

guess for now I’ll use the intricate delicate materials in my tool box- that’s all I’ve got.

might have a long way- maybe worth a shot.

I observe, cruisin in the sky.

dunno why..

I jus look @ the hills.

Only time & history reveals.

no thanks mr men-

I don’t want your prescription pills.

there’s enough propaganda as it is.

I won’t jump on the merry go round-

til my core trusts & envisions we’ll actually feel safe!

I don’t want to take part in this faux fur, sweet nothings & a jack in a box punching blur, so called future.

oh and genuinely thanks quarantine-for once again, I can hear bird sounds!

guess this is me tryna speak out loud!!!...

it’s not thrilling

system  time killing everything-

mother nature’s oxygen

everything is nauseating

clock ticking, I better start creating.

they should write a book on how to be free when the system set us up to believe that we’re tied to the cut down trees that gives them a currency of greed that they breed.

If blindfolded, I don’t wanna eat what they feed.

Whilst they profit of us -tell us smile and the bandits don’t wanna see us happy.

they’re too busy robbing all our hoods.

In exchange for the silence, they’ve granted us with a 21’st century fashion garment of a slave muzzle! labelled conform.

More delusion to add to the already desensitised norm.

zootonic diseases, welcome covid 19 to your plastic kiddy tea party!- apologies for questioning your motive!

Been handed too many hot plates with a post it note saying HOLD THIS.

we’ll be okay just hush.

Same Shan message told to every generational seed.

If we don’t TRY overpower-

we’ll never succeed!

it’s getting even more scary.

Artificial intelligence.

Societal negligence..

my canvas isn’t clear-dunno am I schizo ?

finger painting, cos it makes more sense.

struggling to blend.

borderline conspiracist pretending to be fine;

moving the goal post, hovering above the race line.

who made the chalk? who set the lanes?

I wanna know it all, maybe¿ far past insane.

I can fit all I need in the palm of my hand,

Maybe even less! cut a finger off not sure it’ll even add stress.

hi from personality Peter, even sober- always away with the fairies.

Pass the pixie dust, I’m in a rush

Found shelter in the comfort of pan physicists timer, no not the one on your phone!

Ring ring, skeptical! is it my demon or my mommy on the phone?

I’m stuck in the airspace of an infinite glass filled with beach particles trying to form myself standing up still attempting not to slip through the hands of my very own discovery.

time is running out & ill go when I go.

I’m sitting inside the fly trap -

stardust, chakras can you feel the sensation colors like a starburst.

deep emotion is a curse.

still entrapped in the sand dune of nothingness-

flipping a domino monopoly of solidified thoughts as I sway with the wind.

I’m the trapped sandbox in the playground & the slipping sand in my own hands.

Inhale chronic but I wanna enter the quiet realm of white noise

-color of a wife beater vest, calmer than the ease in ignorance of a red neck.

sadomasochistic, messes.

but oblivion, seems like less stress.

Unfortunately I can see, with all eyes

empathetic paralysis, gets me vexed.

Punching truth into the core of your chest!

It’s not funny, neither is the one on the receiving end..

My limbs are numb

& im done playing octopus alchemy.

I want minimalism & life can be simple,

Evil entities have made it hard.

Maybe I’ve got stars above my head like an old cartoon character.

But I can’t make it make sense, are they out to get me. worse all of us? Or have I bottled myself tryna re mesh the broken shards,

I feel glued to the floor cos there’s a pretty price to pay if you want more.

I see life through a different lense, maybe born downside up, Benjamin button I came out the back door-

Outside looking in, digesting confusion.

Is to be a product of environment a sin?

rummage through my messy brain.

personalities sardine packed in this tin

I’m the wizard of my mania

Scaring & attracting the black crows-

they’re my friends.

Sometimes still a cowardly lion

Roaring pain & true riddles at the wrenching wicked witch posse of the west.

will my voice ever be loud enough to shed light wit my words and grate the sweet zest

In to the cake i’m baking?

Probably not.

Got more thoughts than the autumn leaves collected by the garden rake. alone.

gathering & storing the pains of yesterday.

sometimes I stay in line

Other times in my head Im on my hands juggling out of time.

but I really don’t mind if I lose or win.

we all have a pace

I jus don’t want the 1% to win the race.

It’s unfair!

Humanity does anyone care ??

Half lady

half fairy

Good  MOOrning-

from my anagrams.

no I’m not a cow.

twister fidget spinner brain in the flesh-

form of expression this time around lyrics.

feel I’m jus a silly rubix

& still mourning

I don’t like dairy

pass the oat milk.

Are you aware the industry are sabotaging our diets?

we want peace!

the powerful elite-

perceive & deceive

the scene they want us to be.

chuck the narcissistic psychopathic pie back in our face-

every time we almost found & addressed the Programme & Control man in the maze.

evil & extroverted- he said that the anarchists have to be the cause of riots.

working isn’t class. I said let’s switch roles- he said pass.

It’s piss! Who’s got the bomb & the guns?

Who got the land? off wit OUR heads 4 fun!

it’s pure scary.

Pharmaceutics handshake.

with the cooked up suppliers, also crooked wack liars.

I’d rather shot a gallon of bloody blubbery infused slaughter house milk

If it meant we didn’t use cocoons for silk.

why not add a drizzle of bleach to the concoction & maybe that’s a reach.

every time I guzzle fakeness, it taste peak.

I want real fruit, what next-

a seedless peach ???

what’s the difference between a weirdo & a freak?

layers & levels to the shit.

Magnifying tapping the window of society, I’ll be puffing green til I get to the land of Oz.

sponge soaked soaking up emotions

Suffocated by deduction of care in life

feel entrapped in this paradigm

what am I thinking ?

got the verbs & a cuppa tea

It’s mixed with torment & desire to be free.

I’d rather be awake than asleep

When I get too comfy I feel weak

Demons they reap

underneath

rip the seems as I bleed

Concrete

Solid

Emotions

Is all you’re getting

It’s all sad scenes in the imagery I’m setting

people need care we seem to be forgetting

why are we in debt wit

a posse of clowns

pay the price so we can get a frown

here’s some seratonin

quit ya moaning

life is all sound

aw yeh¿  if you’re not an over thinker!

product of environment- Sirius flickers

theyve done a ritual like it’s Wicca

now here’s your gold sticker..

for managing to co operate.

In this world fuelled off of evil n hate

waking ups a bloody disgrace

I am not amazed.

Man I love my fam n my friends

Just hate this part of my brain that feels the need to play pretend

sometimes I feel insane

but I’m calm

need to escape so I don’t do harm

Gold lioness in the sky by the sea

with puff the magic dragon

fire out my mouth, fuel helps me breathe

I will shine bright

Promise imma be alright

even tho I’m not sure why

I function like this

I wanna be myself

It’s just hard to find the comfortability

To feel happy and pretty

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Ring around sing about overdose emotions

Sorry dunno how to communicate

Heads in a constant debate

Should I go or should I stay

My head clashes

Burnin the next ciggy as my thoughts become ashes.

[touchingoldmagic]

Day 12 - Epic Moment

Day 12 of the 30 Day Ghostbusters Challenge! 

Author’s Notes: In the spirit of IDW adapting some ghosts from The Real Ghostbusters into their storylines, I couldn't miss the chance to include a dragon in the comic'verse.

"Well there's something you don't see every day."

Peter slowly drew his thrower as the shadow of the large green dragon passed right over their heads. If their arrival in Ecto hadn't alerted it to their presence, probably no other sudden movements would, but he didn't particularly want to take the chance.

"Wow!" Ray said, head craned back to look. "It's gotta be at least twenty feet long!"

"Closer to twenty-five," Egon opined, likewise pulling his thrower.

All four men watched the reptilian creature warily, but it only continued its slow circle above them. Even from a distance its large yellow eyes were visible, but the elevation made it hard to tell if it was watching them or not.

The Ghostbusters had arrived at a construction site in the picturesque Massachusetts countryside. The road curved steeply up around the hillside, a guardrail the only thing between the road and a steep drop down to the valley below. At the top of the hill a home was being built. Currently only the foundation had been laid, outlining what would eventually be a very large manor.

"So someone was building a house and the local fire-breather took offense?" Peter wondered drolly.

Winston shot him a look. "Man, we went over it on the drive up, you'd know if you didn't fall asleep."

Peter shrugged, unconcerned. "It was a long drive."

"The construction workers unearthed what they claim looks like ancient pottery," Ray explained. "Inevitably they broke it when they were trying to clear it out, and once that happened, the dragon and multiple other entities appeared and construction was halted. They said they put it all--oh, over there, I'll bet." He spotted a pile of pale debris under a tree on the edge of the property. Egon was already heading in that direction, PKE meter out.

As if it were a choreographed act, as soon as the two scientists approached the pile, at least a dozen vapor-like ghosts burst from the trees and descended toward them together.

Two proton streams shot out from Winston and Peter, who were used to hanging back and providing cover fire for their science-minded teammates, but the spirits were agile as silk ribbons (and fairly resembled them as well). They curled and dodged around the proton streams, scattering through the air.

"Aren't they usually a little more groggy when they just wake up?" Winston grumbled.

"Took us a couple hours to drive out here," Ray called back. "They must be quick learners."

"Great," sighed Winston.

The swam of ghosts were all similar in appearance. Very elongated, thin and flat like streamers, mostly sickly pink or green or yellow in color. Like banners they floated and waved in the breeze, but they had definitely identified the Ghostbusters as a threat and were arranging themselves to dive down again.

"Here they come!" Winston barked out in warning. Ray had pulled his thrower to help provide cover. Egon, kneeling at the base of the tree, ignored all of them in favor of studying what he found there.

Peter spared a glance away from the swarm, keeping an eye on the dragon to see if all the sudden action had spurred it to change its pattern. It was still circling; maybe it had gotten a little closer, it was hard to tell.

Taking advantage of his distraction, one of the spirits swooped down and slammed into the psychologist. It knocked him off balance and then, apparently inspired by the action, picked him up in a surprising show of strength and chucked him straight at the guardrail on the side of the road.

It all happened too fast for the Ghostbusters to react. In the time it took to gather breath to shout, Peter was over the edge and gone from view.

Ray's mind froze in horror. He didn't remember moving, but suddenly he was there at the edge of the road, clutching the metal railing and calling Peter's name. Winston stood beside him, and the pounding footsteps of Egon were coming up behind him.

Then a strong rush of wind caused all three to shield their faces, and a shadow blotted out the afternoon sun.

When Ray could see again he immediately looked upward, following the feel of the wind as it had rushed by. The dragon was climbing higher skyward, wings pumping steadily, and Peter clung to the stiff ridges that ran along its spine between its shoulders.

"Oh good, he's... riding the dragon." Winston's deadpan voice might have wobbled a little at the end.

Ray whooped in relief, both hands in triumphant fists over his head. "Go, Venkman!"

"Get me down from here, brainiac!" Peter screamed back at him.

Egon had reached them at the guardrail by the time the dragon made a graceful arch in the air and glided down toward them, wings extended. It looked like a paper airplane coming in to land. A twenty-five foot paper airplane.

"Hey, looks like he's on our side," Ray said with a grin.

"Or maybe he tried to make Pete a snack and just has really bad aim," Winston pointed out. "What happened to the ghosts?"

"They retreated when we vacated the immediate area they’ve claimed," Egon said, indicating the trees behind them with the hand still holding his PKE meter. The other hand held the largest shard of pottery he had been able to reclaim from the pile. "I believe this explains it. These are the Roman characters for Genius Loci, a benevolent spirit usually bound to a certain place to protect it. The soil I found inside the pottery was most likely from the location the Loci had been protecting. I believe the dragon spirit was purposely bound to the artifacts to help guard against the release of the more aggressive ghosts, and all were set free when they were broken."

In the time it took for Egon to give his conclusion, the dragon had landed. The wind it stirred up was considerable. Not as bad as a helicopter, but Egon had to raise his voice to be heard clearly, and all three of them held up a hand to shield their eyes.

Despite its great size, the dragon pulled in its wings and landed in the road beside Ecto with a dainty little dip, displaying its grace even in the way it curled its tail to avoid striking their vehicle. Peter was still perched on its tall back, clinging to its dark green spines in a death grip. His boots were several feet above the heads of his teammates.

"Hey Pete, Elliot giving you any trouble?" Winston asked innocently.

"Better be respectful, Winston. He could set you on fire." Peter eyed the ground, debating if he could jump down from the creature's back without twisting an ankle. He wanted both feet back on solid ground, immediately or sooner.

Apparently the intelligence of the dragon was enough that it understood the issue. Before Peter could make a move to disembark, its pointed teeth gently closed on the top of Peter's pack and it lifted him down to the ground.

Taken by surprise, Peter squawked with hands flailing, until his boots touched the ground. Then he coughed and tried to reclaim his dignity. The dragon released him and drew its head back, neck arched like a jade-green swan.

"Huh. Yeah, thanks, Smaug." Peter craned his neck to check his pack for monster teeth-sized punctures, then made a face. Dragon slobber smelled just as bad as slime.

"But Peter,” Ray said, “he's completely the wrong color for Smaug."

Peter gave Ray a look.

[dragon-stones]

Toddler Madness

Chapter Name: So much for calm  Part: 8 Pairing: Frostiron     Rating: T Summary: Peter causes someone to swam dive! And Doctor Strange is thrown into this mix. Can this get any worse?

Find on AO3 and FF.net

Tony sits on the counter as he watches Loki clean the children with a damp washcloth. Peter had woken up and is happily babbling baby nonsense. The inventor found out that the spiderling loves to be bounced. So here he is bouncing a baby on his knee. This is such a strange situation for the adult. But something about Peter being a baby seems to melt the engineer’s heart. Don’t tell this to Rhodey or Pepper though, they’ll never let him live it down.

Once the kids were cleaned, Tony handed Peter to Loki and slid off the counter. Though he did see the annoyed look the other gives him. Loki doesn’t like people sitting on the counters, something about it not being sanitary. Though, Tony doesn’t care one bit.

“Okay, who’s ready for lunch?” Tony clapped his hands together and Loki snorts. This man is a weird one.

“Me!” Clint says as he jumps up with his hands in the air.

“No, I am.” Bruce mimicked the archer, with more enthusiasm though.

Soon all the kids were getting rowdy. Well all except Natasha, she just looked annoyed. Much like Loki. And Tony to a point. The adults sighed as they watch the kids exclaim who was more ready for lunch. Soon, Nat piped up.

“You all noisy.”

Tony snorted a laugh. Yeah, the kids can be noisy. He’ll agree with that. Loki seemed to find amusement in what Natasha said. But they are kids, so this is normal. But soon, it was getting annoying and Tony is getting a headache.

“Hush now kids.” Loki hushed the kids as he herded them out of the bathroom.

“Crazies,” Tony mutters, shaking his head.

“No, they're not.” Loki snorts, patting Tony’s back.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Oh yes, they are.” He snorts, but it’s heart filled and not full of malice.“I’m going to look into what caused that flash of light.”

Loki nodded. Indeed, what caused the sudden flash? Did Jarvis have a malfunction? It’s possible. Even highly advanced technology can malfunction. But that fact the flash of light can cause the kids to lose it like they did worry the god. What if it happens again and they can’t calm the children done? What if it happens in public?

“Then I’m calling bold one-eyed pirate about if they found anything.” Tony huffed as he headed to his Lab, pulling a phone from his pocket.

“Right.” The god muttered under his breath. Then turned to the kids. “Come, children, time for lunch.”

Loki ushered the kids out of the bathroom and down the hall. Jarvis had told him that Pepper is using a kitchen on a lower floor since the penthouse is a mess. Jarvis had ordered things for the room to redone. So the penthouse is off-limits for a while. Ushering everyone into the elevator, they were taken the floor Pepper is on. With a ding, the door opens and Loki leads the children to the kitchen. Pepper had made ham and cheese sandwiches and cut them into small squares. There are glasses of juice and water on the table with the plate piled high with food.

“Good, lunches ready.” Pepper sets plates on the table as Loki sits the kids into chairs.

Loki nodded and hums. “Tony’s going to call Fury to see if they found anything about this.”

“Hopefully they found something,” Pepper says as she grabs a small sandwich square.

“Same here.” Loki bites the square he picked up. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Not a problem,” Pepper says as she grabs another.

They eat in calm talking. The kids munch on their lunch like there’s not a care in the world. Peter is sitting in a high chair with a bottle in his mouth. Where did the high chair come from? Loki didn’t remember Tony owning one. But Pepper did do some shopping when she was told about what had happened. So, the chair could have been delivered. Loki taps a sip of his water when he notices Peter beginning to fidget in his seat.

“Something wrong, spidey?” Loki sets his glass down and walks over to the little spider.

But stops in his tracks at what the little gut says. His jaw hitting the floor.

“D-d-daddy.”

The room falls silent. And eyes are staring at the baby. Loki had never heard Peter utter a word. All he did was babble, so the Frost Giant had assumed that the toddler couldn’t speak. But it appears that he had been wrong. Blinking Loki turns his head to Pepper. The redhead is just as stunned as he is, mouth agape. The other kids are shocked as well, Clint even dropped his half-eaten square on the floor.

“Did he just…” Pepper whispered, her voice filled with shock.

Loki slowly nodded. “He did.” Another slow nod. “He said...daddy.”

“Daddy!” Peter whined.

“Do you think he means Tony?” Loki turned to Pepper as she shrugged.

“Maybe.” The woman said. She turned to Peter. “Do you want Tony, honey?”

Peter looks at the adult and nods. The spider made grabby hands. Loki picked the child up and chuckled as the baby wrapped his pudgy arms around his neck. Pepper had once made mention the Peter liked to be held. So Loki picked the little spider up.

“Well, let’s see what tony’s doing.” Loki chuckles.

“Daddy!” Peter clapped his hands.

“I think that’s a yes,” Nat said from Loki’s side.

“Well, let’s go see daddy then.” Loki muses as he heads to Tony’s lab.

Pepper watches. She knows that something is up and didn’t like the feeling she is getting. But, this is Loki. So, anything can go.

“Oh no.” Pepper whispers under her breath.

In the lab, Tony paced with a phone to his ear. The engineer is annoyed, even aggravated. Could this day get any worse? With the information that he had been given, he felt like nothing could make this worse. Why did this random shit have to happen to him?

“Well, that’s just great.” Tony hissed into the phone. He pulled the phone from his ear as who is on the other end started to yell.

“Fucking fantastic.” The engineer muttered low. He sighed and placed the phone back against his ear.

“Yes, they're fine. Rowdy little hunch.” Tony sighs, sitting on a chair. “Yeah, not a problem. Goodbye.” He hung up with a growl.

“Great, just great.” Tony tossed the phone on the table place his head in his hands. He hated his life.

“Sir, Miss Potts is coming down with Mr. Loki and the kids,” Jarvis said.

“Thanks, Jar.” Tony huffed.

Hearing the door open, Tony looked up and sighed. They’re not going to like the news he’s going to have to give. Why is his life so hard? Why can’t he get a break?

“Found anything?” Pepper asks as she stands next to Tony. Loki stood in front with Peter in his arms and the kids around him.

“Yeah, the powder they found has a spell on it.” Tony leaned his head into his hand. The inventor's voice is full of tiredness and annoyance. Though there is a bit of hope as well.

“Well, that’s great.” Loki snorted, this news he did not like at all. As the mortals, they’re SOL’d

“What? Can’t you fix it?” Tony perks up and blinks. He hoped that Loki could fix this.

“No, Odin took my powers away.” Loki huffed.

Shit.

“Can this day get any worse?” Tony grumbled standing and grabbing his cup of coffee.

“Don’t jinx it.” Pepper sighed. She’s hoping Peter does say what she knows the little one will say.

“Daddy!” Peter stuck his chubby little arms out at Tony, a goofy smile on his face.

Tony blinked, eyes wide. Did, did Peter just call him? The cup in his hand dropped, shattering pottery shards and coffee on the lab floor. His face is the perfect imitation of a fish out of water. Why...why is Peter calling him...

“Did he just—” Tony didn’t finish his sentence. He collapsed to the ground in an unconscious state.

Tony Stark had fainted.

“Oh...oh dear,” Loki said, looking at the unconscious man.

The sound of sizzling caught the attention of everyone and they turn to see a ring of orange light. A man steps through in blue robes and a red cape. The man does not look impressed and even annoyed. One could tell that he didn’t want to be there. Much to Loki’s amusement.

“Well, well. I didn’t think you’d come.” Loki snickered, the man glaring at him.

“Why was I called?” The man’s voice is monotone.

“Now, now, Doctor Strange, was it?.” Loki chuckles, causing the man to have an annoyed look. “We need your help.” He gestured to the kids.

Strange looked at the kids and baby in Loki’s arms and sighed. Oh, this can’t be good. Not with a God of Mischief involved. His eyes trailed each child and then to the man on the ground. Pointing a shaky, scared finger, he asks…

“What happened?”

[you-guys--are-losers]

Only You

Summary: 

“Once upon a time we had it all, Somewhere down the line we went and lost it; One brick at a time we watched it fall... I’m broken here tonight, and darling, no one else can fix me-- Only you.”

- “Only You” by Little Mix

Warnings: Violence, Grief, Depression, Loss

Word Count:  2,387

Characters: Michelle Jones x Peter Parker

//Sorry, guys, it’s been a while! I know this isn’t a fic update, but I just felt like writing tonight. ;) Thanks for being patient with me!

The fight was bigger than any that the two of them had ever had.

It took all of MJ’s willpower not to think about it as she moved around the apartment at night, her feet cold on the wooden floors. Her mom was out for the night, and normally this would be one of the nights spent with Peter. It had started about a week after they began to go out, right after MJ admitted to him that she didn’t really like to be home alone. He started showing up with a movie to watch, with one of May’s recipes to try, with a page filled with a half-completed formula for improved web serum. Whatever it was, the two spent the night doing it, and then ended up falling asleep on the sofa or curled up on the floors with blankets and plates of food.

But now, the house was empty, and it had been this way since their fight almost a week ago.

MJ set the kettle on the stove with unnecessary force, trying to block out the thoughts. But, even as she worked to find the tea bag she wanted, she could not keep away the recollection of the argument.

It started small, with one comment from MJ, reminding him that she did not need to be sheltered from his double-life. His reply had been terse, a reply in which he agreed with her verbally, but his tone suggested otherwise. MJ, being stubbornly observant, had commented on this, and before she knew it they were snapping. Neither one shouted-- it was not their style, although Peter’s voice did rise in pitch when he was upset. And he was upset; they both were. Neither wanted to be fighting.

But MJ was sick of seeing the boy she cared about so much being buried beneath the burden of his superhero identity, and Peter was sick of her prompting him to allow her into harm’s way. The fight had been inevitable, and MJ did not know if there was a solution. All she knew was that she was falling in love with the slightly shorter boy with the mess of soft curls.

And now, she thought she might have lost him.

MJ’s thoughts were interrupted by the shrill scream of the kettle, one that caused her to jump and nearly drop her empty mug. However, the girl in the loose hoodie and the old pajama shorts managed to recover the mug, letting out a sharp breath. MJ brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, one that had escaped from her messy ponytail, and inhaled deeply in order to calm herself. Her nerves were always slightly frazzled when she was left alone at night, and she needed to snap out of it.

MJ poured her tea, letting the smell of chamomile and vanilla wash over her for a moment as the earthenware of her mug warmed her hands. She was fine, she told herself. She was just tired, and emotionally exhausted.

But she wasn’t going to go crawling back to him, she told herself. She would wait, wait until he realized what she had realized forever ago-- that he was not going to lose this over some dumb fight. But she did not want to speak to him about it until she was sure he felt the same.

MJ held the mug close, walking down the hall towards her small bedroom. She made sure to turn off the lights as she approached her room so that she would not have to turn anything else off before bed, except for the bathroom light across the hall. Once she had done all of this, MJ finally clutched her mug in one hand and turned towards her room, slipping inside. Her movements were as quiet as possible so that she had a chance to bask in the silence, let it wash over her and drown out all thought. She just needed to read and go to bed, take the night as a chance to unwind and forget.

All thought of relaxation was driven from her mind as MJ shut her bedroom door, revealing a figure standing behind it, drenched in scarlet.

MJ’s whole body clenched, ever muscle pulled as tightly as it would go as shock poured over her like ice water. This time, the mug did slip from between her fingers, tumbling to the ground and shattering. The hot water was painful against her cold feet, causing MJ to leap backwards, away from the silhouette in her shadowy room. She could not seem to scream or cry out, and MJ knew no one would come even if she did.

But then, her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and the figure in the darkness became a familiar one. Because beneath the blood, beneath what looked like a second skin of ash and dust, she could see what had once been red and blue fabric, and the eyes that stared at her with an empty, mechanical expression were eyes that had been manufactured by Tony Stark, and they had once been white rather than spattered with crimson droplets.

“Peter?” MJ found herself saying, her mind not on the pain in her feet or the shards of pottery on the floor. Her mind spun, focusing on the blood... So much blood. She had to try and fix it, fix him. “Peter-- come on, we’ve got to get you sitting down, you’ll bleed out-” 

MJ moved to help him, but then Peter spoke, and her heart broke in her chest. His voice was constricted, hoarse, raw in a way that only came from hours of screaming one’s lungs out. “N-no... No, MJ. It’s not--” His voice cut off completely then, a sound so painful to MJ that she felt a twinge of pain in her chest. “It’s not m-mine.”

Now that MJ’s eyes were adjusted to the darkness, she could more clearly discern his form in the darkness of her room. He was shaking, trembling like a leaf, and that was it. MJ stepped over the broken mug, ignoring the tenderness of the skin on her feet as she slid beneath his arm. She could feel something warm and sticky sliding onto her skin, soaking into her clothing from his, but she did not seem to care. Instead, she crossed the room and led him to her bed, where she lowered him onto the gray coverlet.

“N...No,” he protested in that same hoarse voice, though it seemed slightly less empty. At least those mechanical eyes were moving to mimic his expression, now, and they looked slightly less hollow. “Your bed-”

“Parker, I don’t give a damn,” she murmured, though her voice was gentler than normal as she lowered him to the bed.

Peter finally allowed himself to keep from protesting as she lay his head on her pillow. After a few seconds, she could hear him exhale from inside his mask. MJ began to remove it, freeing his face from the fabric, and her heart only ached more. His eyes were closed, but they were puffy and swollen. There was no color in Peter’s face, and the pallor only made his cracked, scabbed lips look even more painful to her. There was a bruise blossoming along the side of his cheek, and MJ’s fingers flew to this first, caressing it before she could regain control of the actions.

Even in his state, Peter leaned into the touch, and she watched as those painful lips moved to form a sentence. “You... Were right. You’re always right, I should have told--”

“No,” she found herself saying, and now MJ’s own chest was tight as she she stood, focusing on the suit that was clinging to his body now. “Stop that. I don’t want to hear it right now. I need you to tell me what’s wrong, so I can fix it.”

Peter winced as she fumbled to press the button on his chest, causing the suit to balloon around him before she began to work it off. “There’s... Nothing life-threatening,” he whispered as MJ removed the cloth from his skin, revealing a chiseled chest that glistened with red. “Just some bruised ribs, a few second-degree burns, and some cuts. Nothing else. But they--”

“They? Who is they?” MJ pressed as she finally managed to remove the suuit from his weakened limbs. He was almost fully undressed except for his boxers, but MJ was not thinking anything about that right now. At the moment, she only needed to make sure that he was okay.

“The people in the... In the building collapse.”

The words caused MJ to let out a sharp breath, and for a moment, she paused. Her hand moved down to his own, which was covered in grime with filthy and ragged nails, despite the fact that his fingers had been covered by the suit. MJ suspected that something extremely sharp had pierced the suit, and that he had used his own nails to try and dig someone out from the rubble.

She did not know what to say for a moment as she laced her fingers with his, gripping it tightly. “Parker...”

“I should have told you.” The boy’s dirty face was screwed up in an expression of the deepest pain, and MJ could see tears in his eyes now. “Maybe if you were there, on the headset, or Ned-” 

“You did the best you could,” she interrupted, her voice firm. Still, MJ could not just stand idly by him. She slowly climbed into the bed, and for a moment, she sat beside him with his hand in her own.

“The best I could do was nothing,” Peter spat, and MJ had never heard such bitter venom in the gentle boy’s tone. “I moved stone, I dug in the rubble, I pulled person after person out of there after putting out the fire-” His voice broke, and his hand trembled violently in her own as she held it tighter. “And they were all gone. I did nothing.”

MJ felt her heart break with his voice, and for a moment, she just looked at him, at brown eyes that were shattered and hollow as tears slipped free of them. After a moment, MJ lowered herself to the mattress, laying beside him. For a moment, all she could see was surprise in his eyes-- and then, she was pulling him close, and she felt his muscles go limp as he buried his face in the curls that had slipped loose of her ponytail.

She could feel his body shaking, heaving with sobs. MJ held him close, allowing his arms to snake around her neck and pull her closer. She did not care that his body was clammy with sweat or smelled like ash and singed flesh. All that she cared about was him, about the fact that he was breaking, and MJ would be damned if she let him hurt without anyone else there.

He was falling apart, and she was going to help hold the pieces together.

She was not sure how long they lay there together, just the two of them in a mess of tangled limbs, embracing as the world fell apart around them and blood soaked from his skin into her clothing. But what she was sure of was that she was not going to let him go, no matter what. This was so much more important than a single fight.

After a while, Peter finally spoke up, his breath warm against her mess of hair. “I’m still sorry.” 

MJ let out a breath as she held him closer. “I know you are. But you were right, too.”

She felt him stiffen, and then his neck was craning up to look at her as they lay next to each other. “What do you mean?” he murmured, his voice conflicted. “MJ, this did nothing but prove your point-”

“And yours,” she murmured, allowing herself to look into those deep, soulful eyes. “Because I don’t have any idea what your world is like, and it wasn’t fair of me to try and push you to let me into it.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then MJ felt one of his hands find her own in the mess of their embrace. She caught her breath, and suddenly her heart was hammering in her chest.

“But I want you in my world, MJ, and I’m willing to risk it for you. Only you.”

She could not breathe, and suddenly MJ was all too aware of their proximity to one another. It had not phased her when she was trying to help him, to soothe his pain, but now that he was talking about her... Suddenly his hand sent tingles up her own arm, and she could feel warmth flooding her cheeks.

“MJ?” When he spoke her name, there was worry in his tone. He began to remove his arms from around her neck, as if he was worried he had inconvenienced her. “I... Look, I can leave, if you need me to. I-I shouldn’t have said anything”

“No,” she whispered, and MJ found herself only holding him closer. “No... Don’t leave."

His arms returned to their place around her neck, and MJ let out a sigh of relief as he did so. She felt his arms tighten a fraction of an inch around her neck. “What... Did you miss this?”

MJ held him close, her mind reeling. He had gone into a building collapse, and they had been fighting about something so, so stupid. One wrong move, one unstable piece of stone, and he could have been buried with all of them... And she would have still been waiting for him to come back so she could hit him with an ‘I told you so.’ She had come so close to losing him.

So, in order to answer his question, MJ thought for a moment. “What, the hugs?” she asked. “They’re good, yeah. But no... I didn’t miss them. Only you.”

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Fantastic chapter like always and absolutely adorable.

I love how you expand so much on the characters even the dead ones in this fic in a way that makes them so present in the narrative. The way this makes Frank just completely absorbed by his family constantly while still building them as real people independent to him is great. Just the little details about Maria this chapter and how they relate to Matt is absolutely fantastic

The situation between Peter and Frank needed to blow up spectacularly before getting resolved I should have known that something would actually blow up.

The way you showed the Spidey sense in action through Franks pov was really good it's my favorite Spidey power and really fun to see in action.

Poor Peter though. I hope that once the situation gets resolved he can have a good cry about everything ever.

Also I really want Tony to get punched in the face. Just a small punch! Just once! But Jesus Christ the way he handled this situation has been so bad for Peter I am so angry at him. I know he's dealing with something behind the scenes bit still he needs to think about the impact this all has on Peter it's so bleak and isolating

i simply love explosions and add them in to everything i can. they're the spice of life. do not have the police investigate me i am so so normal about fire

Maria Castle is alive in my head and I love her. the version that lives in my head simply loves Matt. He's the dumbass little brother she's always wanted. He enchants her with his poor decision making and emotional unavailability. When he comes over she insists on throwing herself in his arms and he twirls her around because it annoys frank and they're inherently both assholes. The Maria in my head will never be showcased unless i end up pushing my Castle Family Agenda in earnest, but I will reference her as she exists in my head in works where she's still dead. I love her your honor.

The reaction to tony in kintsugi continues to be hilarious to me because kintsugi partially exists because I didn't see this reaction post-CW. Like the reaction I saw was mostly hardcore Iron Dad and i just didn't really see or hear a lot of commentary about how he handled the time between CW and Homecoming. And in kintsugi I changed literally nothing about how Tony treated Peter in that time and people are soooo mad at him. It's kind of funny

[sciencespies]

Hot pots helped ancient Siberian hunters survive the Ice Age

https://sciencespies.com/biology/hot-pots-helped-ancient-siberian-hunters-survive-the-ice-age/

Hot pots helped ancient Siberian hunters survive the Ice Age

Prof Oliver Craig sampling pottery. Credit: Carl Heron

A new study shows that ancient Siberian hunters created heat resistant pots so that they could cook hot meals – surviving the harshest seasons of the ice age by extracting nutritious bone grease and marrow from meat.

The research—which was undertaken at the University of York—also suggests there was no single point of origin for the world’s oldest pottery.

Academics extracted and analysed ancient fats and lipids that had been preserved in pieces of ancient pottery—found at a number of sites on the Amur River in Russia—whose dates ranged between 16,000 and 12,000 years ago.

Professor Oliver Craig, Director of the BioArch Lab at the University of York, where the analysis was conducted, said: “This study illustrates the exciting potential of new methods in archaeological science: we can extract and interpret the remains of meals that were cooked in pots over 16,000 years ago.

“It is interesting that pottery emerges during these very cold periods, and not during the comparatively warmer interstadials when forest resources, such as game and nuts, were more available.”

Why these pots were first invented in the final stages of the last Ice Age has long been a mystery, as well as the kinds of food that were being prepared in them.

Researchers also examined pottery found from the Osipovka culture also on the Amur River. Analysis proved that pottery from there had been used to process fish, most likely migratory salmon, which offered local hunters an alternative food source during periods of major climatic fluctuation. An identical scenario was identified by the same research group in neighbouring islands of Japan.

Shards of pottery from a cooking pot used by Siberian hunters. Credit: Yanshina Oksana

The new study demonstrates that the world’s oldest clay cooking pots were being made in very different ways in different parts of Northeast Asia, indicating a “parallel” process of innovation, where separate groups that had no contact with each other started to move towards similar kinds of technological solutions in order to survive.

Lead author, Dr. Shinya Shoda, of the National Research Institute for Cultural Properties in Nara, Japan said: “We are very pleased with these latest results because they close a major gap in our understanding of why the world’s oldest pottery was invented in different parts of Northeast Asia in the Late Glacial Period, and also the contrasting ways in which it was being used by these ancient hunter-gatherers.

“There are some striking parallels with the way in which early pottery was used in Japan, but also some important differences that we had not expected. This leaves many new questions that we will follow up with future research.”

Professor Peter Jordan, senior author of the study at the Arctic Centre and Groningen Institute of Archaeology, University of Groningen, the Netherlands said: “The insights are particularly interesting because they suggest that there was no single “origin point” for the world’s oldest pottery. We are starting to understand that very different pottery traditions were emerging around the same time but in different places, and that the pots were being used to process very different sets of resources.

“This appears to be a process of “parallel innovation” during a period of major climatic uncertainty, with separate communities facing common threats and reaching similar technological solutions.”

The last Ice Age reached its deepest point between 26,000 to 20,000 years ago, forcing humans to abandon northern regions, including large parts of Siberia. From around 19,000 years ago, temperatures slowly started to warm again, encouraging small bands of hunters to move back into these vast empty landscapes.

The paper is published in Quaternary Science Reviews.

Explore further

Pottery reveals Ice Age hunter-gatherers’ taste for fish

Provided by University of York

Citation: Hot pots helped ancient Siberian hunters survive the Ice Age (2020, February 1) retrieved 2 February 2020 from https://phys.org/news/2020-02-hot-pots-ancient-siberian-hunters.html

This document is subject to copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study or research, no part may be reproduced without the written permission. The content is provided for information purposes only.

#Biology

[travelersepisode]

Roma!!! Eternal city which lies at the heart of Italian capital. It is one of the most touristy place in the world. It has a deluge of fascinating sites and landmark that will remind you of its gripping past such as its beautiful squares, great museums, renaissance fountain, medieval buildings and roman sites.

Before planning the trip, every time there is one question which pops up. How to explore this beautiful city? Places to visit in Rome? and so on…. So I decided to put together a 3 Days guide to navigate around the city without falling into so called tourist traps.    

Roma in 72 Hours  

  Colosseum

Palatine Hill

Piazza Venezia

Spanish Steps

Trevi Fountain

         Day 1: The best of Rome — So let’s begin our first day!!!!!!  

Colosseum:- Start your day by visiting the most famous and magnificent monument.   This huge marble structure was built to hold more than 50,000 spectators to witness bloody contests of might and the slaughter of wild beasts.

Palatine Hill:- continue with your visit of archaeological area by exploring the Palatine Hill. It is considered to be the birthplace of the Italian capital and is believed to have been inhabited since the year 1000 B.C. In the Palatine Hill you can see hundreds of ruins of the imposing buildings that were created for high Roman society in ancient times.

Roman Forum:- After this you may start strolling along via Cavour and immerse yourself into the historical ancient popular borough Rione Monti. After this one can take Dei Fori Imperiali again and walk up  Capitoline Hill to fully enjoy an unique view of the roman forum and the scenographic square designed by Michelangelo.

Piazza Venezia:- Don’t miss Capitoline Museums. As soon as you go down the capitoline stairs you will discover Piazza Venezia with its huge white monument Altare Della Patria and Palazzo Venezia.

Trevi Fountain:- Walking along Del Corso and Delle Muratte Trevi Fountain designed by Nicola Salvi. It will open before your very eyes with all its splendour in few minutes.Never forget to throw a coin in the pool! Cause this will bring you good luck to you.

Pantheon:- La rotonda, this is the name Romans call the Pantheon with amazing examples of Roman building techniques . It was initially built to be a temple but later on was changed into a christian place of worship. It is world’s biggest dome built in concrete more than 2 thousand years ago.

Spanish Steps:- Right after going past the historic Caffe Greco, you will reach Piazza Di Spagna dominated by its monumental stairs – Spanish Steps – leading to the church of Trinita Dei Monti.   

Do you know that Colosseum was once known as Anfiteatro Flavio.

  Day 2: Rome along The Tiber

St. Peter’s Basilica: St. Peter’s Basilica is one of the holiest temples for Christendom and one of the largest churches in the world. The basilica was called St Peter’s after one of Jesus’s twelve disciples known as Saint Peter, who became one of the founders of the Catholic Church and was executed in Rome  and buried where the Basilica now stands. The visit to the Treasure Museum and to the Dome are on payment. If you feel like climbing the stairs you will be rewarded by the spectacular view of the city. You may admire La Pieta by Michelangelo, the baroque Baldachin and Alexander VII’s Funeral Monument made by Bernini.

Vatican Museums: The Vatican Museums is one of the most important Museum complexes in the world housing very important masterpieces from the Egyptian Age to late Renaissance. If you wish to visit the Sistine Chapel and to admire the amazing vatican collection you need to visit Vatican Museum.

St. Angel’s Castle: It is also a fascinating site you could visit within a walking distance from the vatican.

Tip- Do not miss to get up the terrace where you will surely enjoy a breathtaking view of ROME.

Piazza Navona: the Baroque-style Piazza Navona is one of the most charming and popular squares in Rome. The most beautiful parts of Piazza Navona are its three fountains, designed during the papacy of Gregory XIII. It’s unusual shape derives from this ancient Roman Stadium where horse and chariot races used to take place .

Campo De Fiori: The only historical square in Rome where there is no church. In fact, in the past it was used for public executions. It is lively both during the day; with its flower, fruit and vegetable market, and by the night; when the terraces are packed with people.

Jewish Ghetto: It is one of the best attractions in Rome and also one of least-known. Discover the Jewish tradition which is still deeply live among ancient relics as Ottavia’s Portico and Theatre of Marecellus, places and fountains.

The Tiber Island has always been a place of mystery, wrapped in legend, surrounded by the river and forever tied to the origins of Rome where once stood Esculapio’s temple, god of medicine.

Trastevere: Take a trip across the Tiber river to Trastevere, a charming medieval neighbor hood with a fiery temperament. Once a popular borough today famous for nightlife thanks to clubs, discos, restaurants.  

   Rome is far more than a collection of artistic treasures & historical sites

  Day 3: Art and Nature – So here comes the last day of our trip!!. Let’s explore historical Centre to the modern boroughs.

Borghese Gallery and Villa: Rome is full of green areas and Villa Borghese, one of the biggest parks in the city with its 80 hectares.It hosts various buildings, museums and a small lake. Visit Borghese Gallery, the best access is via Di Porta Pinciana. It hosts the most important sculptured groups by Gian Lorenzo Bernini such as II  Ratto Di Proserpina, Apollo E Dafne & David, as well as the famous Paolina Bonaparte by Antonio Canova.

Pincio Terrace: Enjoy a nice walk in the park while heading to Pincio’s Terrace where you can enjoy an amazing view of Rome.

Piazza Del Popolo: It is surrounded by three churches with the Fontana Dei Leoni in  the center . At the south end of the square there are two elegant historic cafes which over the last century have become  famous hangouts for artists and writers.

Circo Massimo: You can visit the ancient stadium built by the chariot races. A small exhibition site was recently opened to better understand the history of this extraordinary archaeological site.

Aventino Hill: Climb up the hills, you will find Roseto Comunale, Rose Garden particularly in spring time.

Piramide Cestia: Its an original imposing tomb – more than 36 metres high built for the Praetor Caio Cestio in the I Century B.C. The marble covering the pyramid has come back to its ancient splendour after a long restoration.

Rione Testaccio: After reaching Rione Testaccio and you will see a little hill called Monte De Cocci literally meaning The mount of shards. It’s an artificial hillcock made up of pottery fragments collected during the ancient time. From the latin word ‘Testae’ derives Testaccio, the modern name of the area.

So my travel buddies lets travel and discover the historical powerhouse. Lose your heart in this fabulous city!!! Come and Roam in Rome 🙂       

Benvenuti a Roma (Welcome to Rome) Roma!!! Eternal city which lies at the heart of Italian capital. It is one of the most touristy place in the world.

[marywoodartdept]

Welcome back! This week we have Ceramics and Arts Administration major Emma Pilon. Emma is a senior (and former blogger) who has traveled to different places while at Marywood and tends to make large ceramic works (2-3 feet tall!).

Meet Emma

Name: Emma Pilon, Class of 2017

Major: Ceramics and Arts Administration

Minor: Art History

I am majoring in Art because: I really had no idea what I was going to study in school when it came time to go away, but beginning in high school, throwing clay was something that never failed to make me feel fulfilled. If you’ve touched soft, plastic clay before, you know what I mean. It’s so cathartic to manipulate clay in all kinds of ways. It was only when I got to Marywood and started interfacing with Professor Matt Povse (who’s since retired) and the clay studio, and the ceramics students that I started to understand not just how satisfying, but also how prosperous a career in ceramics could be. There was a whole craft world out there I had never known about. I abandoned my inhibitions about the uncertainty of a degree in art, focused on what could be with a little hard work, and never looked back.

The kinds of things that inspire me are: I’m inspired by a lot of things. I am a dual major so I find I draw a lot of inspiration from my other program of study – Art Administration – which has attracted me to modern and contemporary artists like Ellsworth Kelly, Robert Ryman, and Mark Rothko. I’m also inspired by contemporary craftsmen like Lee Kang-Hyo, Jean Michele Gerard, Jun Kaneko, and Lauren Mabry, as well as the greats that lived through the american contemporary craft movement, like Peter Voulkos and Paul Soldner and Don Reitz who, in short, helped bridge the gap between the art world of abstract expressionism and the craft world of ceramics. Take my word for it… you’re gonna want to look them all up! Still, at the end of the day, I am simply inspired by the medium. There are so many profundities in clay, like the way we manipulate it with our hands, tactilely, which make it so immediate and therapeutic and addictive!

My favorite class so far was: I’ve taken many classes at Marywood that made me so much more passionate than I could have ever anticipated. I think my nineteenth century and women’s art history classes tie for first place. Being able to take those courses in back to back semesters made making connections between the two pretty effortless, and the “Aha!” moments so satisfying. We have had so many challenging and engrossing conversations in those classes, and through a desire to understand the artists and their works, I feel increasingly successful as a more serious and independent researcher, being able to satisfying my mounting curiosities. Taking art history really tuned me into another sector of art that was and is outrageously fascinating to me.

When I’m not in class: I love to simply relax at home. I’ve recently found I love to cook, and try new recipes when I have the time and ingredients. If I want to get out though, I’m satisfied finding a cozy spot in one of the many homey coffee shops around the Scranton area, and in the winter months, skiing at Montage Mountain is always fun. I also like going to the gym. My work is growing in size; most of my pieces stand about two to three feet tall and weigh anywhere between 40 and 60 pounds, give or take, so I need the strength to get them from kiln to kiln!

The coolest thing I’ve done so far was:  I’ve done a lot of cool things as a result of the connections I’ve made at Marywood and beyond, one being my three-month internship at The Clay Studio in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, but I think traveling to Portugal for a short study abroad tops my list. I was hand-picked, along with one other student, by an art history professor to assist in gathering information from a collection of ancient Roman ceramic shards, harvested from the ruins of an archaeological site called Torre de Palma. For two and a half weeks, I worked as an assistant in the National Archaeological Museum of Lisbon, handling these broken pieces of ceramic, and learning first hand all about the various clay bodies indigenous to different parts of the Roman Empire. Together, we were even able to identify shards of the same material and reassemble about half of a lost Roman amphora. I felt so lucky to have experienced such an underrated European city (I’m convinced Lisbon is a best kept secret), and to have had the perfect opportunity to meld my two passions in the professional world – ceramics and art history.

When I graduate: I hope that when I graduate, I can continue to make my artwork, to cultivate a more mature portfolio, and learn more about operating a professional ceramics studio. I am currently applying for several internships, fellowships, and short term residencies at studios and craft schools where I can do just that, as well as continue to make connections with leaders in the ceramics field. I’m very interested in seeing different parts of the country at this point in my life as well, and would be thrilled to be moving towards an area where ceramics and craft may have a stronger presence in the minds of makers and consumers. I’m also very attracted to Philadelphia, and could see myself setting up something more permanent there in a few years, like a pottery business, or a potential career in the museum environment; or maybe even do both. But for the more immediate future, I want to develop myself further outside of academia. I’m willing to bet the real world is a pretty good teacher.

I’d recommend the Art program at Marywood because: You’ve probably heard it a thousand times over, but at Marywood, you are a unique individual, not a number. I find it very hard to believe that the same opportunities I have had the pleasure of experiencing here would be offered to me at a larger university, where I might be lost among the crowd, and competing to rise above my peers enough to be noticed. Professors bend over backwards for students who show even the slightest bit of interest, investigation, ambition, or passion. This genuine a connection between student and instructor, and even student to student, cannot be forged, and certainly helped me nurture what it was that made me motivated, and turn it into a career.

Some of Emma’s Work

14″x 14″x 22″

14″ x 14″ x 33″

13.5″ x 13.5″ x 26″

14.5″ x 14.5″x 24″

8.5″ x 5.5″ x 16″

14.5″ x 14.5″ x 28.5″

Thank you for sharing your work with us, Emma! If you want to see more of Emma’s work you can go to her website, Instagram, or Facebook for more!

Until next time!

~Jordan

Jordan introduces us to senior ceramics+artsadmin major & former blogger Emma Pilon in this week's student spotlight Welcome back! This week we have Ceramics and Arts Administration major Emma Pilon. Emma is a senior (and former…

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

HI HELLO EXCUSE ME I JUST SAW THE TAGS ON YOUR LAST POST ABOUT THE POTTERY SHARDS VERSE? HE GASLIGHTS CAPTAIN AMERICA?? AND YOU CUT IT OUT????? DO YOU CARE TO ELABORATE???? I love love loooove your pottery shards and acts of... verses sooo so so much btw absolute masterpieces. It is so hard to find anything about Jack Murdock but he is just so interesting please. Also pottery shards??? mwah i love it. I usually avoid mcu stuff bc peter is always stripped down to some spineless kid, but he is SO MUCH MORE. plus it's so funny like god

It wasn’t in pottery shards. Explanation below the cut.

The scene came from a fic I have planned and partially written but no idea if I’ll ever publish. The idea was that Bucky, post Winter Soldier, ends up recovering with the vigilante community of New York, which results in Peter Parker becoming ferally protective of him. This Peter is extremely productive, mildly insane, terrible at communication, and a total ride or die. Every adult in his life is terrified as to what he is doing at any given moment, because it could be anything, and Peter will not tell them until it has already happened. he just keeps doing things and he will not fucking tell them what those things are. 

as a side note, bucky in this AU adores peter to his dying breath, and he has never been more stressed out in his life. it’s like a tiny steve who has the power to fling himself off buildings and is even worse about sharing relevant information in a timely fashion--and steve let the army fucking experiment on him without letting his good ol’ pal bucky know that his last enlistment attempt worked. bucky has aged a thousand years since meeting peter. he would be stressed all day, every day, seven days a week, but he gets to time share his stress with frank castle, which alleviates some pressure. 

Bucky hadn’t reached out to Steve at this point—who was tearing apart the world looking for him—and Peter was a very firm believer in bucky’s right to heal on his own timeline. So, when Steve spots Bucky near one of their old haunts in Brooklyn, he’s elated, and Bucky is less than elated.

Peter, who was coming to meet bucky, takes exception to this fact.

He just sort of gets in Steve’s way in the street, acting like a random passer-by, and Steve, in his rush to get to bucky, grabs him by his bare forearms to move him out of the way when Peter keeps getting in his path. This is, of course, exactly what Peter wants, because he immediately activates his stickiness and Steve now physically cannot let go of this obvious child.

Peter immediately proceeds to give an Oscar winning performance of “terrified child in the process of being kidnapped, please, please, this isn’t my dad, someone save me.” He tries to fuck off immediately after, but he gets snagged by Sam and dragged into Avengers tower for questioning as to what the hell he just did, how the hell he just did it, and how is he involved with bucky.

Peter decides the only way out is through and that he just has to lean into the kidnapped child thing. He just. Immediately starts gaslighting the fuck out of everyone. He didn’t do anything, that’s insane, their theory is that he can, what—become sticky at will and somehow force captain America to drag him around by the arms? he’s fourteen and an honor student and he wants his aunt, oh god is he actually kidnapped by the avengers. He cries. It’s mildly humiliating.

It’s also extremely convincing, because like. He’s fourteen and an honor student. he’s crying. Why would this random child have any affiliation with the winter soldier? And what could he have done to make Steve grab him by the arms and drag him around—become sticky at will? That’s insane.

So he convinces everyone that Steve saw someone who was just a bucky lookalike on the street, snapped, had a nervous breakdown, lost control of his own strength, and almost kidnapped a fucking child. Including Steve. Steve also thinks he had a breakdown and almost accidentally kidnapped a child. But, good news, Peter really really doesn’t want to be on Ellen as the kid who almost got Datelined by Captain America, so he’d love to just go home and never talk about this ever, please and thank you. they really lucked out of a lawsuit, if you think about it. So he manages to gaslight them into letting peter go with their profuse apologies, and they’re actively making plans to ship Steve off to a wellness retreat on one of Tony’s tropical estates, because obviously the stress of hydra and looking for bucky has just been too much for him. He snapped and almost caused the most difficult to explain PR scandal ever. 

This, of course, all fails, because Peter accidentally unlocks his phone with Face ID while they’re giving him back his stuff, and a photo of him with Bucky is his home screen. He is very high intelligence, very low wisdom.

“Huh,” says Peter, into the damning silence. “I almost gaslit my way out of that like a girlboss.”

And then he immediately shoved his phone down his pants and announced that he would personally make sure that anyone who went after it would never be allowed in a school zone again. It devolves from there.

I loved it. It was so funny. It was peak chaos. Peter will never apologize for his actions. Foggy tries to get him to, and Peter says “I’m not sorry and I would do it again” and Foggy has to be like “HAHAH kids say the darnedest things please don’t press charges.” Matt keeps having to leave the room to laugh. Karen gets all teary-eyed with pride whenever Peter does does anything illegal, so she’s useless at scolding him. I had to scrap it in the end because it was a very big narrative point—Steve finding bucky again—that could be used in much more effective ways. It was devastating but made for a stronger plot.

I fully agree—a lot of fandom makes peter like, pretty spineless and helpless. I think there’s a big difference between making him young and making him a damsel which a lot of fanfiction misses. I, personally, like him insane. Ironically, pottery shards peter is probably the tamest peter i have in my drafts. 

Jack murdock was this lasting point of interest for me where I desperately wanted a fanfiction where he lived and there just really wasn’t a lot of options. Lying by Omission by deniigiq was really the only thing that had fun with an alive Jack murdock, but I really, really wanted a Jack who just managed to survive canon. Roscoe Sweeney taking Matt instead was the obvious choice, which—it has such fascinating implications for guilt that I was obsessed. I’m glad you also like it.

I’m glad you’re enjoying pottery shards and acts! Thank you for the kind words!

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

22, pottery shards?

22. Who is your favorite character in [insert fic] and why?

It is a TOSS UP between Matt and Peter.

Matt is sooo interesting to me, because he somehow is the guy that got better. Like, Daredevil takes awards for being mentally unstable, but I like to think that Matt in pottery shards is someone who took daredevil season 3 to heart and really has gotten better. He, Karen, and foggy are legitimately a team that is fully in sync with one another. I feel like Matt’s been actively or passively suicidal for the majority of his life, and for the first time, he isn’t. And he’s suddenly at a stage of healing where he can try to be everything that Stick wasn’t to him.

It’s the thing about oxygen masks, right? You put yours on first, then you help other people. He finally has his mask on, and he’s trying to help Peter put his on. He got older, got better, and he’s finally at a stage in his life where he can help other people in the way he never was. I kind of love it for him.

Peter, by contrast, is so mentally ill right now.

I haven’t published any of my other versions of Peter, but this one is probably one of the angriest. I love how angry he is. He’s in an absolutely terrible place, mentally, he’s raging at injustice, but he’s still trying to funnel it towards good. At the end of the day, he’s just so good, no matter the pain he’s in.

Also, he’s just so funny. God, he’s the most concerning boy to exist. Frank has aged one thousand years since meeting him. I love him.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

For AO3 Wrapped: 12, 27, and 29!! <33

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

oof. so, there's a few ways of answering this. there's ones that i have in my docs, and there's ones that will realistically be published.

the structure of pottery shards is already set. it's going to be three multichapter narrative fics, and i have at least five character studies asides (sam, steve, bucky, tony, and luke, may do more if the need arises) planned that also reveal events that don't fit into the limited POV of the multi chapter narrative (like, the background accords drama going on right now--the brunt of it is luke's and tony's story to tell, but it would be a huge narrative divergence from the focus of kintsugi, and there really isn't a good alternative POV to relay the events otherwise. so, most of it will be character study based, but it'll be filtered through some relevant events). the first step of kintsugi is like, relatively close to being finished? I wanna say it's 2/3rds there. so we have seven works lined up the barrel for pottery shards. I want to say realistically we're probably going to get through kintsugi, 3-4 character studies, and start on the second multi chapter fic in the upcoming year. so 4-5 WIPs from the pottery shards verse.

the lisa castle series has 3 narrative installments that will almost definitely get out in the next year. I can't decide if i want to end it on the 4th or go for a 5th, so that may be put on pause because i'm deciding where to take it still. ~3 WIPs from the hells verse.

i want to finish it's not a whore HOUSE it's a whore HOME series and get it off my docket. it's just got one WIP before it's done. so 1 here.

i have at least 2 from the acts of contrition verse, one is almost definitely going to go out in the next year. ~1 here.

I really want to start the Peter Parker Roommates AU, which won't be a series, once some of these wrap up, so probably one entirely new project that would be started. 1 WIP.

So, realistically, we're talking about 10-11 WIPs of varying lengths. Some of them are gonna be pretty short, some of them are gonna be multichapters that are at least started in the next year.

If the question is how many WIPs do I have in my google drive that have at least a page of writing and have been plotted in their entirety or close to, the answer turns into 41.

27. What do you listen to while writing?

i put on episodes of bojack horseman on really low volume sometimes.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

ooooh that's a hard one. i think i'd probably go with this:

Matt’s clever, right? So goddamn clever. He has it all planned out. He’ll never tell a single living soul about his powers, because that’s dangerous, and because he can’t trust anyone with it, and because the only person he should have ever told is in the pressure of the ground making oil so another rich fuck can dig it up in a million years. The industrial complex is ever-churning, after all. 

What is a poor man’s body except oil to grease the works?

He’ll never tell a single soul, and that will be that. Can’t steal candy from a baby if the baby’s hidden it. No one can take advantage, because no one knows there’s anything to take advantage of. 

There’s Stick.

not really sure why. I feel like there's a kind of bitter callousness to the internal monologue that i deeply vibe with. i really like the line of the "making oil so another rich fuck can dig it up." and then just having the line be "there's stick," because, like--in glaze defects, we don't really see what stick does to him. we see the effects, but the most we get of stick himself is like, one sentence. stick's a horrendous thing that happened to matt, but in his own internal reflection, he's entirely absent compared to what matt perceives as his own failings. I just like the vibe.