#life as a field archaeologist

[dearearlyarchaeologists]

Cube : )

Cube : )

[merovingian-marvels]

Dorestad Fibula

The Dorestad Fibula (brooch) was found in the Dutch village Wijk bij Duurstede, the successor of the Early Medieval Emporium Dorestad.

Dated between 775-800, this brooch is classified as Frisian. Decorated with gold, garnets from East Asia, pearls, enamel and glass, this brooch belonged to an exceptionally rich merchant.

The brooch depicts the tree of life with leafs and fruits. The green inlay portray stylized bird heads.

RMO Leiden, Netherlands

Object nr. F1978/1.1,

Found in Wijk bij Duurstede-Utrecht, Netherlands.

[ochipi]

Who put Bella…

In the wych elm?

In the pasture with the archaeologists?

[stars-and-darkness]

.

[dearearlyarchaeologists]

This is what brings archaeologists and paleontologists together 😌

That and dirt…

I don’t know how to describe it but this is exactly what paleontologists are supposed to look like

[sassmill]

Internet friends what did you first want to be when you grew up. Like before adults told you to start seriously considering your future and before you started pursuing it. What did you want to do with your life before you were forced to be ‘realistic’ and what are you doing now

[reality-detective]

Bees and Honey 👇

🐝Some interesting facts about bees 🐝

Here are 20 interesting facts about the importance of honey and bees:

1. Did you know that honey never spoils? Archaeologists have found pots of honey in ancient Egyptian tombs that are over 3,000 years old and still perfectly edible!

2. Did you know bees are essential for growing many of our foods? They pollinate about one-third of the food we eat, including fruits, vegetables, and nuts.

3. Did you know honey has natural healing properties? It can help soothe sore throats and even speed up the healing of wounds and burns due to its antibacterial qualities.

4. Did you know bees produce a tiny amount of honey in their lifetime? A single worker bee produces only about 1/12th of a teaspoon of honey in her entire life, but together they make a lot!

5. Did you know bees communicate through dancing? They perform a "waggle dance" to tell other bees where to find the best flowers.

6. Did you know honey can help your brain? It contains antioxidants that may support brain health and improve memory.

7. Did you know beeswax, made by bees, is used in many everyday products?** It's found in things like candles, lip balm, and even some types of food packaging.

8. Did you know honey can be a natural energy booster? It provides a quick source of energy because it's packed with natural sugars.

9. Did you know there are over 300 types of honey in the United States alone? The flavor, color, and aroma depend on the flowers that bees visit.

10. Did you know that beekeeping helps many communities around the world? It provides income, supports agriculture, and helps improve food security in many regions.

11. Did you know honey can be used as a natural preservative? Because of its antibacterial properties, honey has been used to preserve fruits and other foods for centuries.

12. Did you know that some bees can recognize human faces? Studies have shown that honeybees can remember and recognize human faces, much like they remember different flowers.

13. Did you know honey can improve your sleep? A spoonful of honey before bed can promote relaxation and better sleep by raising insulin slightly and allowing tryptophan to enter the brain.

14. Did you know bees are colorblind to red? Bees can see ultraviolet light, which humans can't, but they can't see the color red. Instead, they see it as black.

15. Did you know honey can help with seasonal allergies? Consuming local honey is believed by some to help build immunity to local pollen and reduce allergy symptoms.

16. Did you know that royal jelly, produced by worker bees, is fed to all bee larvae? However, only those destined to become queens are fed royal jelly throughout their development.

17. Did you know honey has different medicinal uses in various cultures? For example, in Ayurvedic medicine, honey is used to treat digestive issues, and in ancient Egypt, it was used to treat wounds.

18. Did you know bees have a built-in GPS? They use the position of the sun, the earth's magnetic field, and their own memories of landmarks to navigate and find their way back to the hive.

19. Did you know honeybees are the only insects that produce food eaten by humans? They are unique in their production of honey, which has been a staple in human diets for thousands of years.

20. Did you know that honey can vary greatly in taste and texture? The type of flowers the bees pollinate affects the flavor, color, and texture of the honey. Some honey can even be creamy or spicy!

[foralternateuniverses]

New au based on an anime I liked quite a lot when I was a teen (Dog Days)

Anime's summary: protag-kun gets summoned to another world by a dog-eared princess to be her country's hero its a world where the countries and citizens have pastry-themed names, and each country has certain types of animal people, the countries also have protecting wards to keep monsters away hero-kun is summoned to fight in a war, but the wars are literally just an sports events with magic stuff so people can't die, dog princess chose him cuz she used an interdimensional thingy and watched him participate in an America ninja warrior-style thing and did awesomely (he did not win first place tho, he lost to -i think was either his cousin or childhood friend- and she's summoned by the cat kingdom to be their hero in the second season. in the third, the squirrel dukedom joins the wars and summon one of protag's friends tho she's no athlete, she gets to use magic-tech)

So

the ASL brothers are the heroes that get summoned by the different countries also, the citizens who "die" in the war become furballs and are taken to be treated/rest until they can join again if they want, except the important characters, those get their clothes torn

Germa is the kingdom of the cat people, ruled by Sora (Judge was exiled after trying to experiment on their kids) , they're neighbours with Alabasta (rodents) and Whitebeard (dogs) there are, ofc, other countries but these 3 are the ones that matter and the ones that participate the most in the war games the first to be summoned is Luffy by Alabasta's princess Vivi, they've been in a losing streak and are desperate, so hero time it is the Whitebeard gets Ace and, lastly, Sora gets Sabo Germa and Whitebeard had been absolutely dominating the war games

Until Alabasta brought Luffy Ichiji and Ace met at the war game, ofc, Ace had had the intention of going straight for Luffy but Ichiji got in the way and they were pretty evenly matched, tho Ace ultimately won having been the first to ever tear Ichiji's armour -and clothes- off, giving the Germa -and just all- citizens the fan service they've always wanted -and winning himself Niji's undying hatred-

The brothers get to learn that not all in that world is fun and games when it's time to free Dressrosa but after they do Dressrosa joins in the war game and ends up summoning their own hero, their sister, Uta Oh, yeah, and Dressrosa citizens are mostly sheep and the like

Sora is also a bit of a tech nerd-mad scientist, she's just not that into doing human experimentation or weapons of mass destruction she rather make tech-advanced raid suits and spyware a la Totally Spies the raid suits are supposed to be nearly indestructible so the whole "Ace accidentally burning off Ichiji's clothes on international tv" (because the war games are televised, I think I forgot to mention that lmao, there are commentators and all that jazz) incident was a bit of a shock and Niji will have Ace pay for it, preferably with his life lmao

Robin would be a delight as a commentator actually, she works as an archivist/historian (she does fieldwork as an archaeologist/anthropologist) at Alabasta's royal palace but always makes time to be a presenter at the war games and appreciates Franky's (and Galey-la's crew) effort on designing and making the game's fields}

Now, back to acechiji

Ace keeps accidentally burning off Ichiji's uniforms despite how many adjustments and upgrades Sora does to them and is growing convinced that it must be on purpose theif powers come from god-blessed treasures that respond to their wills and desires which is why Ace's fire keeps accidentally burning off Ichiji's raid suits he does want him nakey but it isn't his intention to leave him nakey on international tv lmao

Ichiji starts aiming to burn off Ace's clothes in revenge but Ace has no shame and has won more times than Ichiji has + Ichiji ends up getting embarrassed if he overdoes it and helps Ace over his privates

All the siblings (+ Ace) also start bringing an extra something for Ichiji to cover himself Ichiji just trying to take them both down but Ace has no problem letting it all hang out lmao Sabo daring him to see who gets censored more on live tv

The moment either of them start moving the show editors have their fingers on the audio censor (for Sabo’s swearing) or image blur (if Ace’s outfit dissolves again)

the worst part is that Ichiji is the only victim of Ace's burning-clothes technique germa citizens love and hate in equal measure this fact and Ace suffers cuz no-one believes that it really isn't his intention to do that (in public)

Sabo keeps scolding him and apologizing to the Vinsmokes on his behalf

Marco: don't you think it's enough? I'm starting to feel bad for the poor boy

Ace, crying on the floor: IT'S NOT ON PURPOSE

his own fire is getting in the way of wooing Ichiji (and then there's Niji) meanwhile Nika is probably laughing in the distance -he is the god who blessed these treasures- it'll take a while but Ace will succeed Ichiji easily fell for his charms but his bruised pride gets in the way

the animal peaple also have omegaverse tendencies, for example, they go into heats

picture -> Ichiji going into heat and getting all handsy with Ace and rubbing against him in public and Ace is flattered but also incredibly flustered and confused until Ichiji is dragged away by his brothers so he can have his heat in peace and someone explains the whole heats ordeal to Ace

[innerfare]

Lawbin Headcanons 

Summary: Early stages of Lawbin. This whole thing is basically Law being a dork who’s constantly trying to play it cool while falling for the weird girl (Robin, I love you, never change). 

Characters: Trafalgar Law x Nico Robin

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

When Robin met the Captain of the Heart Pirates, the Surgeon of Death and a Warlord of the Sea, Dr. Trafalgar Law, she didn’t trust him, not even for a second. Recall, she has extensive experience with Warlords and would have died at the hands of one if Luffy hadn’t saved her despite her own insistence he leave her to die. As soon as she meets Law, she swears to herself that if things go sour, Luffy won’t be saving her and, in fact, she’ll be saving Luffy. She won’t let the Warlord take a shot at her Captain, and she takes Luffy’s proposition that if the alliance goes bad, the crew will have his back, to heart.  

For the longest time, that’s how Robin thinks of Law: the Warlord. She never talks about it, but she has PTSD from her time with Crocodile. She had never known peace or solace in her life; the safest position she’d had before joining the Straw Hats was as the right hand of a man who ultimately viewed her as expendable. And Sir Crocodile wasn’t just any man, he was a pirate brimming with power and eerily intelligent, with a mind for strategy. Just like Traffy, whose insistence on planning out every little detail and having a backup plan for every backup plan takes Robin right back to Alabasta. 

Robin becomes a little obsessed with comparing him to Crocodile. She zeroes in on his willingness to make small sacrifices for the greater cause, his analytical nature and reserved emotions, his apparent lack of friends. Only, Traffy went to great lengths to help the Straw Hats rescue the children on Punk Hazard, and he didn’t take the opportunity to be too cruel to Smoker and Tashigi despite having them chained in front of him. But that doesn’t stop her from trying to make him into Crocodile 2.0.  

And then there’s Law, who’s such a dork. Strategic alliance this, strategic alliance that, but from the second he met the Straw Hats, he wasn’t thinking about betraying them, he was wondering how he was supposed to remain impartial with such an affable group. He thought Nico, at least, would be an ally against the general Straw Hat insanity, but she turned out to be the crew’s worst enabler rather than the mother hen he had originally pegged her for. Which begs the question, what else was he wrong about? 

Annoyed to have been so wrong, Law begins paying more attention to Nico. He notices that she doesn’t fall into the insular trap that a lot of academics do. She’s not just an expert on her one field but in fact is incredibly well read and is a wealth of knowledge on a menagerie of different topics, and each topic he learns she is well-versed in is weirder than the last. 

Why is Nico an expert on Panda Shark socialization? How did Nico come to find out that there is a mythical, lost library full of love poems on an unnamed sky island? Why does Nico have so many books on a random king from the South Blue who died eight hundred years ago? How did Nico learn that there’s an island in the West Blue where white pumpkins grow on bone trees? And why, oh why, is she versed in Germa 66 lore? Finding out the last one makes his heart drop, the realization that he would risk it all for the Straw Hat archaeologist making Law’s stomach churn. 

And how is she so calm all the time? He had pegged the academic as similar to him, but her crew’s shenanigans seem to just roll right off her. She sat in that cell with him and the others in Punk Hazard reminiscing about old times with Luffy and Smoker instead of cowering in the shadow of Vergo, and she more than held her own on Green Bit, lending herself to him as an asset time and again, always being there to lend a helping hand (or twelve) when the plan fails. 

All that is to say, Law falls first. But it’s Robin who makes the first move. 

It’s only when she sees Traffy interact with his crew that Robin sees him for who he is, and she can’t get that man out of her head- that man who isn't domineering but tries to make people follow his orders to protect them, that man who is so adored by his crew (the members of which he protects rather than uses for his own gain), that man who, despite being called Warlord, is kind of adorable. 

Robin starts teasing him a bit; she just can’t help herself. Now that her Crocodile glasses are off, she can see that he doesn’t have the sort of temper that leads him to kill people but rather the sort that just leaves him spluttering and speechless. And, well, she thinks it’s cute. She starts feeling dumb, too, for not having seen it sooner. After all, Luffy saw he was a good and trustworthy person, and that should have been enough for her, but she had been blinded. 

No longer blinded, she starts enjoying her time with Traffy, though he doesn’t notice the shift, doesn't realize she's soft on him. He thinks she’s needling him for some other reason. It never occurs to him that Nico (or anyone, for that matter) finds him cute. And he almost goes into cardiac arrest when she tells him. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He demands one night, fed up with that little smile that always seems to be on Nico’s face while she’s staring at him. “Nothing,” she says, swallowing her giggle, “I just think you’re cute when you’re annoyed.” And with that, she leaves him to process what she’d just said. 

Their relationship is built on info dumping. Robin can talk about her weird interests, such as the mating habits of Sea Kings and the fact that the antidote made from Conine in the bark of Kona Trees can actually be used as a poison if mixed with the correct substances. And Law can talk about his childish interests, such as various comic books and ninjas. These two geek out on a level not previously known to humankind. 

They bring each other odd tokens, typically the weirdest possible thing they could find on their respective travels. 

Law buying Robin books and leaving notes inside that get progressively more personal, Robin asking Sanji to show her how to make onigiri because it’s Law’s favorite. 

And then there’s the trauma. Both were nearby when their parents were murdered. Both were alone in the world at a very young age, Robin hunted by the World Government and Law by the Donquixote family. Both know what it’s like to be completely alone with nothing to their name but a bizarre devil fruit ability and a target on their back. Both managed to find their way in the world despite feeling for years that they never would. They didn’t save each other because they didn’t have to. They’re traumatized, but they’re not broken, and together, they can be even stronger. They saved themselves, and now that they did, they’re free to bask in each others’ presence. And that’s exactly what they do. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[dearearlyarchaeologists]

SOME LAST MINUTE VALENTINES FOR THE ONE YOU’D LEND YOUR TROWEL TO ♥️

Archaeology Valentines Extravaganza part 4

[whencyclopedia]

A Roman Trail in the Moselle Valley

The Moselle Valley is Germany's oldest winegrowing region. The Romans brought viticulture to this area and planted vines along the Moselle River 2000 years ago. After settling the region c. 50 BCE and establishing the city of Trier (Augusta Treverorum) in 17 BCE, a Gallo-Roman culture developed in the territory of the Belgic Treveri tribe that inhabited the valley in what is now Luxembourg, southeastern Belgium, and southwestern Germany.

Between Trier and the junction with the Rhine at Koblenz, archaeologists have found remains of Roman estates, temples, mausolea, and wine presses. They constitute the largest concentration of Roman ruins north of the Alps.

The Moselle River owes its name to the Romans, who called it Mosella or 'little Meuse'. It is one of the longest of the Rhine's tributaries at 545 kilometres (339 mi). The extensive cultivation of vines on its slopes is well-attested in the poem Mosella written by the 4th-century CE Gallo-Roman poet Ausonius (310-395 CE). Ausonius praises the Moselle for its clear waters, fish, quality vineyards, and people. He dwells on its beauty, which is impressive in the glow of the setting sun.

Here one sees the sky without branches twined together, green and dark, buried in fog, here the brightness of daylight never hides. I saw this land of well-tended fields and estates set on hills and cliffs green with vines and hedges running across the slopes like schoolboys at play and murmuring below in the valley, the Moselle, my new-found river hurried along. The pleasant scene recalled to me my distant home, Bordeaux. May I pay my respects to the river praised by every man working in his field? You bring the honour of empire to Trier.

Ausonius, Mosella (Translation by Harold Isbell, 1965 CE)

The Moselle Valley in the Rhineland-Palatinate and Saarland regions of Germany has majestic landscape, hilltop castles, picturesque villages, vineyards, and savoury wines to draw visitors. The region is also a testament to the Gallo-Roman era north of the Alps, with 100 Roman sights showing aspects of Roman life.

The cross-border cultural route "Straßen der Römer" (Roads of the Romans) connects these sights thanks to well-developed archaeological hiking trails and paths. Impressive reconstructions and excavated sites are waiting to be discovered. Descriptions of archaeological monuments provide walkers with access to a thousand-year-old cultural landscape.

Find the best places to visit in this region with our list of the top Roman attractions in the Moselle Valley. For lesser-known Roman sights and museums, including those in Luxembourg, check our map below.

Roman Villa Borg

The Villa Borg is a reconstructed Roman villa rustica located in the village of Borg in Saarland. The complex illustrates how pleasant life was for the Roman elite 2,000 years ago. Visitors can wander the 7.5-hectare (18-acre) estate and learn about Roman daily life while visiting the fully functional baths, recreated gardens and kitchen, and archaeological museum.

Only the pars dominica, the residential area exclusive to the master (dominus) and his family, has been excavated. Excavation work is being carried out in the area of the pars rustica - the space reserved for servants and workers of the farm - and can be visited during the opening hours of the Villa Borg.

The Villa Borg has a year-round programme of events and festivals, including 'Exclusive bathing evening,' 'Roman wine tasting with the slave Jatros', and 'Cooking like the Romans'.

Opening times: Every day except Monday. February-March: 11:00-16:00, April to October: 10:00-18:00, November 11:00-16:00. December, January closed.

Continue reading...

[sloancameronspits]

Shattered Relics

A new Overwatch grunt who isn't quite ready for the field finds themselves enmeshed with a sweet archaeologist who saves them from peril. Venture x reader, hurt/comfort, romantic by the end. CW for non-life threatening injuries. Word count: 3014

This is something I wrote primarily for myself as a result of my Venture obsession and as an experiment in first-person writing, but feel free to insert yourself into it too if you'd like. The reader is gender neutral, after all. Loosely based on Venture's animated intro.

---

As the sands near Petra came into view, the reality of joining Overwatch fully hit me for the first time. It was possible, albeit difficult, to repress the anxiety in the training simulations. Here, thousands of miles from home, it simply wasn’t tenable anymore. I approached the front lines, where Overwatch soldiers were in conflict with Talon operatives attempting to steal a cache of precious artifacts. I wasn’t high rank enough to know any details about the artifacts, but the higher-ups seemed confident that their security was a critical task for Overwatch.

I repeated what I had to do in my head. Steady grip. Careful aim. A bullet whizzes past my head. Shit. Shit. I’m going to die. I drop the gun, falling to my knees in the sand. I knew this was a bad idea. I could hear shouts, but I couldn’t make out any of the words. Another bullet impact, far above me this time, followed by a horrible crack. I’m only able to look up for a moment before a shard of rock hits me, and consciousness fades.

---

The first thing I noticed on waking up was the red sandstone ceiling above me, followed by my surroundings. I was lying on a sleeping bag in a small cavern, next to a tent and unlit fire pit. Definitely not where I was earlier. Well, I’m not dead. The next thing I noticed was the intense pain shooting through my body. 

“Ow. Fuck. Ow.” I couldn’t restrain myself from shouting aloud to no one in particular. To my surprise, there was a response.

“Oh!” An exclamation, far too chipper for the situation, came from nearby. “You’re awake! I was starting to worry you were gonna be history.” A mop of messy brown hair mixed with sand, dirt, and a pair of extremely scuffed goggles came first out of the tent, followed by the rest of the strange person.

I was dazed. “Who… are you… with Overwatch?” My speech unsteady, I tried to sit up. Sharper pain shot through my legs. I winced and fell back down.

“I, uh, wouldn’t do that.” The strange person frowned. “You got beat up pretty bad.” They reached out a hand for a shake before realizing my position couldn’t accommodate such an action, sheepishly retracting it. “Sloan Cameron. I’m with the Wayfinder Society.”

I managed to pull myself together at least enough to hold a conversation. “So what am I doing here, I guess is my question.” I asked flatly, still stunned.

“Oh! Well that’s easy to explain!” Sloan’s eyes lit up. “So. We’re here at Petra trying to find some cool artifacts. I’m here, drilling away-” They gestured to the incredibly large drill resting beside their tent. “And I hear a bunch of commotion outside. I try to ignore it, but some Talon goons break in looking for any of our finds, so Venture jumps into action!”

I smirk. “Venture?”

Sloan glances away, embarrassed. “It’s uh, my codename. I think it’s cool. Anyway, I drove them out of the digsite and decided to help out the Overwatch fighters get rid of the rest of those Talon jerks.” The word wasn’t harsh, but their glare and tone made their hatred clear. “Oh! And then I spotted someone trapped under a rock. That would be, uh. You. And I couldn’t bear to leave someone injured there, so I carried you back here!”

“Thank you. I-” My incoming apology is cut off by a cough.

“Here.” Sloan lay a gentle hand on the nape of my neck, propping up my head and pouring water into my mouth. I hadn’t realized how dry my throat was - I wasn’t used to the desert. Their hand was rough, calloused from the hard work of excavation, but it still gave a tender, caring touch. My eyes fixated on their other hand, clutching the flask of water, and I slowly moved my gaze along their arms. Nicely toned - can’t be easy lugging around a drill that size. They were able to carry me, too, so they must be pretty strong…

“Ay. Eyes up here.” Sloan said sternly. When I met their eyes with mine, they gave another wide smile. “Figured if you were staring you’d at least want to see my famous smile.” One of their front teeth was chipped, but it didn’t affect the infectiousness of their joy one iota.

Caught red-handed, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of shame, even if they didn’t seem to mind that much. I finished the last of the water and let my head hit the sleeping back again. “So… Venture? Uh… Sloan?” I said, ending off with a lilt of uncertainty.

“Either’s fine!” They cheerily replied.

“Good to know. So, what about those artifacts you’re protecting?”

“Aha! You didn’t doubt Venture, did you?” They rummaged through their pack, furrowing their brow for a moment before triumphantly retrieving a small golden object with the face of Anubis. “This little ushabti is something I’ve chased for a while. It used to be in Cairo, but now it’s here in Petra. Now, you might notice that it’s shaped like Anubis. I’m not sure why it was brought here of all places, but I have some theories-” They stopped suddenly. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“No! Go on, I like your enthusiasm.”

“Really? Most people outside of the Society get bored. Anyway, I think there must be some kind of group here worshiping Anubis. I don’t have any proof of it yet, but why else would they bring it here?” They put a hand on their chin. “I guess they could just be thieves, but that’s way less fun.”

“Well, if you’re able to fight against those Talon soldiers, I assume you’ve got the wherewithal to deal with whatever horrible curses you’ll dredge up by disturbing a ritual site.” I joked.

“Oh my gosh. Do you think it’d be cursed? That would be so cool.” Their eyes were wide, lit with excitement. “I shouldn’t keep you up, though. You should really get some more sleep. I’ve called some of my colleagues back at base camp. They’re gonna come by and get you later tonight and take you back to get some actual medical attention.”

“Are the other Wayfinders like you?”

Sloan laughed. “No, they’re much more serious. They let me do my own thing.”

My mood soured, and from Venture’s expression it was visible on my face. “That’s a shame. I was really enjoying listening to you…”

“Hmmm…” Their eyes wandered as they lost themselves in thought. “I mean, you’re totally free to stay in my room at the outpost if you can’t get enough of little ol’ me.” They shot a pair of finger guns along with a wink.

“I… I’d like that.” I said, eyes fluttering closed. “If it’s not too much of a burden.”

“Course not!” Even with eyes closed I could tell from their tone they were grinning. “It’s a date.”

---

The boundary between sleep and consciousness was thin. My body needed the rest, but my mind was sick of sleep. By the time I finally woke up fully, night had fallen. The air was cold, but a fire now crackled at the formerly ashen fire pit. I made an effort to sit up - a successful one, this time. Perhaps the injuries weren’t as severe as I’d thought?

“Howdy hey.” Venture gave a quick wave from beside the fire. They were now wearing a thick yellow jacket and seemed considerably more comfortable, though they had a fresh few markings of dirt on their face. “Glad to see you up. I made some tea; ya want some?”

I nodded, and they passed over a nondescript mug filled with an enchantingly warm tea. “I’m surprised you’re able to keep this from breaking. I mean you’ve got to move around so much in this line of work…”

“Oh, they break. That’s why it’s so boring and cheap.” They said. “Plus, it means that my bags always come back with pottery shards even if I don’t find anything!”

I laugh and take a sip. “Well, the tea inside is still nice. Thank you.”

“Of course! My culinary skills are second to none.” They laughed a bit before adding quietly, “They don’t let me cook back at base after the incidents.”

I paused for a moment, then continued to sip a bit slower. “You’ll have to tell me about that some time.”

“Aaaaaaanyway-” They said, cutting me off a bit. “Your, uh, low-tech medivac will be here soon, and I can show you around the Wayfinder Society Petra Forward Operating Base! Hope you can used to rooming with two other people though, it might get a bit cramped.”

“Two? I didn’t know you had a roommate. I hope it won’t be too much for them.”

“Ah, it’s really no worries. Rosetta loves people!”

---

The trip from Venture’s makeshift campsite to the Wayfinders’ larger outpost wasn’t too long, though the terrain meant it wasn’t exactly the smoothest ride. Still, it was worth it to avoid the whiplash of hot days and cold nights of the desert. The outpost was sterile and scientific, upsettingly similar to the Overwatch training simulations I’d grown to despise, but it was nice to be somewhere climate controlled for the first time in a few days. 

“Here we are! Not much, but it’s mine. And now yours!” Sloan excitedly said upon us reaching their tiny room. Despite its size, it managed to contain a bunk bed and plenty of the archaeologist’s trinkets.

“You mentioned a roommate? Are they here?”

“Oh, Rosetta? Yeah, she’s over there.” Sloan pointed toward a nearby table.

Puzzled, I followed their finger. The table had a small rock with googly eyes stuck on. “Venture.” I said flatly.

They were grinning. “Anyway, I gotta go talk about my findings to the higher-ups. Feel free to get to know each other. I’ll be back later byeee-” They trailed off as they half-jogged away from the room. They really were a strange one.

“Well. Just you and me, Rosetta. How are you doing?” I asked, still harboring some strange belief that she might respond. She did not. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that a rock did not respond, but Venture’s attitude toward it gave me some pause, even if it was… unlikely. In lieu of a conversation with an inanimate object, I chose instead to view the baubles Sloan had chosen to bring along. It was a surprising amount for someone so nomadic, a table covered in rocks given less reverence than Rosetta, along with a few pictures stuck to the wall. There were a lot of pictures of Venture at the pyramids, smiling that wide smile that I had already become so fond of, along with a varied collection of other rocks. These didn’t seem to be given personalities, however.

I was still sore from my injuries, so I sat down on the edge of the bed and checked my phone. No messages. Of course. The rest of Overwatch probably thought I was dead. Probably for the best, as this might have technically been deserting. At least the signal was good. I flicked through social media idly. Nothing particularly interesting, but at least it was a distraction.

I lost track of time, and a quick knock at the door jolted me back to reality. It had been longer than I realized if they were already back. They gently opened the door and I immediately realized something was wrong. They were holding two ice cream cones, but their face was sunken.

“Want one?” They offered one of the cones to me, eyes staring straight down. I took it carefully, suddenly deeply concerned for them.

“Am I… causing trouble, Sloan?”

They shook their head, their mop of hair shaking with it. “It’s not you, don’t worry. I am just frustrated.” They flopped onto their bed, one hand raised to carefully protect their own ice cream. “Mind if I complain? I know you’ve dealt with a lot, but…”

I took a lick of my ice cream. “Go ahead. I want to know what happened.”

They sighed deeply. “I told my higher-ups about that ushabti I showed you. I told them that there had to be a deeper reason for Talon bringing it here. They looked me right in the eye and said I was being unrealistic; that it was probably just that Talon was stealing it to fund their activities.” They took a big bite out of their ice cream, then continued, voice quavering. They were on the verge of tears. “They don’t believe in me, y’know? They think I’m a kid. I’m twenty-six! I’ve been with the Society for ten years!” They winced. “Ow. Brain freeze.”

“Are you worried they’re gonna like, fire you?”

“Nah. Nobody else can fend off Talon agents like me, so my job security is really high. I just wish they’d believe in me.”

I thought for a moment. “Best way to get them to listen is to find some more proof.”

They sat up, trying to maintain their composure. “That’s what I was thinking. I didn’t expect anyone else to think it was a good idea. Usually people don’t.”

“I mean, I can’t exactly help directly… but I’d be happy to stay with you and provide whatever I can.”

“You can accompany me back to the dig site if you want. I’d enjoy the company at the very least.” They smiled bashfully. “Oh! We should probably wait until you’re healed, though.”

I took stock of my body. “A few more days should do me. I’m really not hurt as bad as I thought. Anxiety got to me, maybe.” I finished off my cone. “Do you guys get ice cream a lot here?”

“Nah, this is a treat since I had a bad day. I’ve got connections at the cafeteria.” They finished theirs as well. “Ice cream always makes me feel better. Working at an ice cream parlor was the only other job I’ve had. I was so excited that I could eat as much free ice cream as I wanted while on the job…” They sighed dreamily. “Turned out I couldn’t. I had just assumed that I could.” They grinned. “I got fired.”

---

A few more days of rest had me together enough to go out in the field. While Venture told me not to push myself and that they were fine waiting for me, I could tell in their eyes that they missed the digsite. There were other things I noticed about them, of course. The way their laugh sounded, their chipper greetings in the morning, the way their body curved in just the right ways…

It was worth spending the day in the hot desert sun, watching Sloan as they sunk deeper and deeper into the earth below them. Their beautiful hair was smothered by dust and sand, sweat pouring in rivulets down their face, goggles making impressions around their eyes. They were still beautiful, despite it all.

“SLOAN!” I yelled, trying to be heard, over the din of their excavator. “DO YOU WANT TO BREAK FOR LUNCH?”

Their excavator shut off, the drill spinning to a halt. They panted for a moment, then pulled off their goggles. “I uh…” They struggled to catch their breath. “If you need to, go ahead. I wanna go just a little bit deeper. The ground feels like it’s getting softer? It makes no sense.” They grinned. “I’ve gotta be close to a big discovery.”

I watched from a distance as they spun their drill back up, and slowly sunk beneath the earth into their current borehole. Slowly their head sank, and then they vanished, along with a scream. Shocked, I ran over and found the hole they were digging had collapsed into a much larger cavern.

“I’m okay!” Venture’s yell echoed from the bottom of the cavern. “Can you throw a rope down? There should be one in my bag.”

Trying to manage my panic, I hurried over to Venture’s bag and found a length of rope. I tied it to a nearby pole for the tent and threw it down the hole. “Sloan? Did you get it?” I shouted down. No response. “Venture?” Still hearing no response, I checked the strength of the rope. It was secure enough. I carefully climbed down, fearing the worst.

At the bottom of the pit, I began desperately searching for Sloan. It didn’t take long. They were standing in a strange glow, totally entranced by something ahead. I put my hand on their shoulder and saw it too. The far side of the cavern was dominated by a huge artificial structure, or perhaps a titanic Omnic - and it had the face of Anubis. I stood stunned.

After a brief moment, Venture broke the silence. “I knew something had to be here… I wonder, is this based on the Egyptian god, or the AI Anubis…” They trailed off for a moment before noticing my hand on their shoulder. “Oh! You’re here! I can’t take this. This has the potential to define my work for decades. I need to get more people out here. Gosh, there’s so many emotions.” Their eyes met mine. “I, um. Can I?”

I nodded silently.

They leaned in, cupping my face in their calloused hands. I wrapped mine around their shoulders, fingers in their messy, matted hair. It was not the most delicate kiss, but as I fell into their grip and let their lips meet mine, I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful one. They held on, squeezing me tight, backlit by the glow of their new find. 

When they finally pulled away, eyes wide with joy, I managed to summon enough bravery to ask Sloan a question. “So, does this mean I can stay with you and the Wayfinders?”

They grinned. “It’s an unusual situation, but with a find like this, I’m sure they’ll be happy to keep you on as my special research assistant. And I’m happy to keep you on as my partner too.” Sloan said with a wink.

[eezdalf]

We should also consider if the inhabitants of the mega-sites consciously managed their ecosystem to avoid large-scale deforestation... Archaeological studies of their economy suggest a pattern of small-scale gardening, often taking place within the bounds of the settlement, combined with the keeping of livestock, cultivation of orchards, and a wide spectrum of hunting and foraging activities. The diversity is actually remarkable, as is its sustainability. As well as wheat, barley, and pulses, the citizens' plant diet included apples, pears, cherries, sloes, acorns, hazelnuts and apricots. Mega-site dwellers were hunters of red deer, roe deer, and wild boar as well as farmers and foresters. It was 'play farming' on a grand scale: an urban populous supporting itself through small-scale cultivation and herding, combined with an extraordinary array of wild foods. This way of life was by no means 'simple'. As well as managing orchards, gardens, livestock and woodlands, the inhabitants of these cities imported salt in bulk from springs in the eastern Carpathians and the Black Sea littoral. Flint extraction by the ton took place in the Dniestr valley, furnishing material for tools. A household potting industry flourished, its products considered among the finest ceramics of the prehistoric world; and regular supplies of copper flowed in from the Balkans. There is no firm consensus from archaeologists about what sort of social arrangements all this required, but most would agree the logistical challenges were daunting. A surplus was definitely produced, and with it ample potential for some to seize control of the stocks and supplies, to lord it over others or battle for the spoils; but over the eight centuries we find little evidence for warfare or the rise of social elites.

a description of talianki (located in modern day ukraine), a neolithic site from 5,700 years ago (inhabited from roughly 4100 to 3300 bc) from the dawn of everything by davids: graeber and wengrow

once again this book is fantastic - and one of its main theses is that "the agricultural revolution" and some of the conclusions we draw from it are, largely, not true.

the development of farming in human societies is a much much longer and more "playful" process than popular narratives would have us believe. 'agricultural revolution' suggests an on/off switch almost. and the way it's usually taught sees agriculture being "invented" and then spreading like wildfire to take over the globe - only then allowing for true cities and the "necessary evils" they entail. this simply isn't true. an urban, farming society is not automatically doomed to bureaucracy, inequality, and exploitation.

all across the world the archaeological evidence points to the domestication of plants taking literal thousands of years longer than it "ought to." and then, even when the domestication of a wild plant was complete there isn't an immediate rise of huge fields and class stratification (as the popular narrative goes). again - in the magnitude of multiple thousands of years. we have generations upon generations of humans with farming know-how who don't immediately begin a march of politics and inequality precipitated by farming.

agriculture isn't humanity's curse no matter what the memes and capitalists say. we are not doomed to our current ways - we can imagine, we can build, we can create new ways of being. the past is the present is the past. and fuck you capitalism and doomed "human nature" debates. and read the dawn of everything <3

[cowboyemeritus]

Shovel Bums (Cardinal Copia/Reader)

Shovel Bum (n): a slang term referring to a contract archaeologist; someone who works in the cultural resource management industry.

Or, you and Copia help each other get through a long week of fieldwork. (18+)

Tags: workplace relationship, secret relationship, outdoor sex, archaeology au

Read on AO3

Notes: this is so incredibly self-indulgent, but it is basically my life (not the affair part, lol). i hope it's not too niche.

still slowly working my way out of writers block. lots and lots of ideas that i want to share with you all :)

feedback is always welcome!

It’s only September, but fall is in the air. The mornings are chilly, the days are still annoyingly hot, but the nights, for now, are just right. The rest of the crew has already gone to bed, leaving just you and Copia sitting around the dying campfire. Though the sun has set and the day has been long ��� everyday, it seems, lasts forever in the field — there is still plenty of work for you two. Gadgets need to be charged. Data needs to be reviewed. Site forms need to be completed. If you had time, you’d make a plan for tomorrow that’s more detailed than “walk in a straight line and don’t die,” but it would be a fruitless endeavor. Seldom do your expectations actually come to pass.

This project, for instance, has just been roadblock after roadblock, mishap after mishap. Equipment failures, rough terrain, and perplexing sites merely scratch the surface of all the things that have worked to slow you down. That’s all par for the course in this line of work, but when you haven’t interacted with society in days, it starts to eat at you. When you know you’re sleeping in a tent tonight and your next shower isn’t coming for days, there are only so many transects you can walk, only so many rocks you can look at, before you lose your mind completely. And with two days left and still so much ground to cover, it’s hard not to feel the pressure building. You’ve already done two sessions out here, and there’s only enough cash left in the project budget for this week, a fact that haunts you and Copia like a specter. This thing has to be done by the end of Sunday, or else.

But who cares about that when there’s cool, old shit to look at?

“I’m telling you,” you say quietly, for the sake of your sleeping crewmates, “that point Dew found this morning? Elko Corner Notched.” It’s a fantastic specimen, knapped from one of the many chunks of petrified wood that erode out of the mesas, littering the landscape. This one is red, with bands of orange and yellow that, to you, resembles a sunset. To illustrate your point you hold up one of your (many) artifact guides alongside your tablet, a photograph of the projectile already on display. Copia looks up from his paperwork and squints at it from across the dying fire, eventually coming over get a better look. You gaze up at him as he takes the device from you, admiring how handsome he looks in the orange glow. Though he’s more diligent than anyone on the crew about applying sunscreen, you swear he gets more freckles every day. Not that you mind. His nose scrunches up a little as he looks back and forth between the screen and the book.

“I don’t know,” he says, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Still looks like Chaco to me. And wasn’t it by that room-block we recorded yesterday?” You put on your best faux-pout, secretly delighting in the mirthful look in his eyes.

“Well, yeah,” you acquiesce, snatching back the tablet so that you can zoom in on the stem of the point, where it would have been hafted to the shaft of a spear. “But, look. The base is concave. Chaco is convex or straight.” Copia plops himself down next to you with one of his cute little grunts, resting his chin on your shoulder. “And look at how serrated it is.” He hums in agreement, at this point merely feigning interest in the artifact’s true identity. You feel an arm slink around your back, his hand coming to your hip and gently squeezing the flesh there.

“I love it when you correct me,” he murmurs into your ear. It’s meant only for you, but sound travels in strange ways out here and you can’t help the chastising look you give him. Copia flashes you a cheeky smile to show you just how not-sorry he is and you roll your eyes.

“You’re not gonna be saying that for long, ‘co-Project Manager.’” You laugh, nervous excitement bubbling up at the thought of your recent promotion. Copia had been instrumental in helping you get it, arguing to the company that he needed the help and you, already his right hand, could handle the responsibility. He’d held your hand throughout the process of applying for your state supervisor permit, too, a truly harrowing process that makes your skin crawl to think about. And while the change has brought a staggering increase in the amount of hours you work and corporate bullshit you put up with, splitting the project with him has definitely helped you ease into your new role. With his attention to detail and your obsession with efficiency, you make a pretty solid team. Copia has made this nightmare bearable; you’re grateful to have him, even if he’s a little shit sometimes.

Copia chuckles, finally closing the gap between you. His lips are chapped from the sun, but you’re certain yours are, too. Under the fresh coating of smoke from the fire is the smell of exertion mingled with the artificial scent of cleansing wipes. No one on the crew has had a proper shower in days; that’s just how camping projects go. They’re sweaty, and dusty, and seem to drag on forever, but the satisfaction of looking at a filled-out map at the end of the session (and the notion of several days off) makes it entirely worth it. At this point, though, you’re more-or-less blind to the sweaty human smell, and the feeling of having him so close, especially after the hellish few days you’ve had, is too tempting to resist. Pressing further into the kiss, you can’t help the quiet, contended hum that emanates from your chest.

There’s a rustling from Cirrus’ tent, and both of your heads snap in that direction. Copia, suddenly skittish, scoots away and a moment of tense, almost fearful silence passes over you. What you’re doing isn’t technically against the rules, but with the promotion, it looks a little suspicious. When the opportunity presents itself, you agreed, you’ll make… whatever this thing is, known to any affected parties. For now, though, it’s easier to lurk in the shadows, stealing kisses when no one is looking.

When she, when anyone, fails to emerge and spoil your fun, you give Copia a pleading look. He’s back at your side almost instantly, capturing your mouth again. Eagerly, your arm snakes behind his back, fingers twisting into the thick brown hair at the base of his skull. You lightly scratch at his scalp, and can feel the shiver that runs down his spine. Copia groans quietly into your mouth, then nips at your bottom lip. The lingering traces of warmth from the fire are nothing compared to the heat his advances stir within you. Suddenly needing him desperately, you allow your lips to part, tongue slipping through to prod at his. Copia’s mouth is sweet with the lingering taste of the candy you’ve carefully rationed all week, and you press into him greedily, wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on your body. You get a very risky, very tempting idea.

There’s a string of saliva connecting your tongues when you pull away. For a moment, you wonder how that’s even possible with how much you sweat all the damn time. “Let’s,” you start, nodding in the direction of the trees. Copia gives you a confused look. “Somewhere more private.” The realization hits him. He quirks an eyebrow, now looking rather bemused. Mischief is attractive on him.

“Bellissima, we could be seen… together. People will start to talk.” No one on the crew gets paid enough to care and you both know that. He’s just riling you up. You grunt, stealing another desperate kiss.

“Not if you’re quiet,” you grumble, planting your lips on his pulse point. Emboldened by desire, your hands find his, bringing them to your breasts. “I need you. It’s been…” You have to restart your count when he thumbs over your nipples, already hard through the flimsy fabric of your camisole. Your thighs press together as you recall the last time you had him; frantic, hurried, just minutes before mobilizing on Monday morning. “It’s been five whole days. That’s far too long.” Copia looks like he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. The only option is to silence him with your mouth, but when you finally let him escape for air he’s still got that shit-eating grin on his face. Suddenly, it’s not so handsome anymore. You scowl. “I’m dying here.”

“A snake could bite you on the butt.”

“I’ll bite you on the butt,” you say. Copia cocks his head as if to say don’t threaten me with a good time, and you roll your eyes. Huffing, you stamp your foot, kicking up a small cloud of dust. “All you do is fucking question me. Got me promoted, for what?” You stand up from the log and wince as your hip pops. When the session is over, you’ll need to thoroughly stretch every part of your body. “Let’s go.” You take a few paces away from camp, looking over your shoulder to find Copia tailing you. This is greatly satisfying, and you smirk at him as you saunter off into the forest.

“I’ve created a monster,” you think you hear him say.

The first step in your scheme is to put as much distance between you and the camp as is possible. To that end, you walk out about 50 meters into the trees, stop, decide it’s still too close, then trudge out another 20 or so. It takes a few tries to find a good spot; one large juniper has a colony of ants eating away at its base, the ground beneath another is pockmarked with rodent burrows. Eventually you find a tree about 75 meters out and decide it fits your needs. It’s tall enough for you to lean against, and one large branch juts out right around waist height. You’re only screwed if someone needs to take a piss and chooses the wrong direction to walk in. Liking those odds, you plant yourself down on the branch, watching impatiently, arms crossed, as Copia catches up. Without needing instruction, he slots himself between your parted legs.

In an instant your fingers are tangling into the front of his shirt, pulling him in. Now that you’ve gotten a taste, you need as much of him as you can get. His tongue pushes past your lips the moment your mouths meet, and when he presses his hips into you the hardness of his arousal is obvious. Encouraging him, you grind into him as best you can, planting a hand on the branch to steady yourself. On one stroke the zipper of his hiking pants catches your clit and you moan quietly, pleasure winding up in your gut like a rattlesnake waiting to strike. Copia chuckles into your mouth, cupping your cheek to stop you from following when he pulls away, glancing at his wristwatch.

“It’s already 9:45,” he observes. You stare at him, deadpan, needing only the exhaustion in your bones to tell you it’s probably too late to be doing this.

“Be quick, then,” you mutter, reaching for the button on his trousers. He grunts when your knuckles brush against his hard length, but he lets you work without complaint. Your mouth fills with saliva as you pull him out of his briefs, taking a moment to admire his manhood and savor the weight of it in your hand. Even in the dark — it suddenly dawns on you that you didn’t bring a flashlight, which will make getting back to camp interesting — you can just barely see that the head is flushed a deep pink that blooms all the way down his shaft. He likes to tease, but you know he needs you just as bad. You spit into your palm, giving him a few quick jerks. Copia groans, head falling back as he starts gently fucking into your fist. Watching him, you’re overcome with the desire to take him in your mouth, but that’s not a good idea until both of you have had a date with soap and running water. Instead, you take his hand and again bring it to your chest, untucking your shirt so that he can reach under it. There’s a pleasant jolt when the pad of one of his fingers brushes across your bare nipple and you whine, tilting your head upwards so Copia knows he should kiss you. With a quiet hum he obliges. This kiss is more gentle than before, simpler, but that’s okay. It makes you slow down for what feels like the first time in days.

It’s an exquisitely beautiful evening. The sky is dusted with more stars than you could ever get in the city, twinkling like fine crystal beads against the faint backdrop of the Milky Way. Even in the darkness the forest around you is alive, a symphony of crickets scoring your tryst. An owl hoots somewhere, the sound carried on the cool, lazy breeze. Moments like these, when you’re able to liberate yourself from the demands of the job and appreciate your surroundings, have become increasingly rare. It’s hard to be mindful when you’re constantly, both physically and mentally, in motion, and the deadlines often overshadow your interest in the material. Sometimes, it’s hard to be thorough and scientific when all you want to do is lay down in a freezer and sleep. Sometimes, you forget that you chose to do this, that you’re an archaeologist, and not some drone at the mercy of whatever utility company is footing the bill.

Right now, though, none of that matters. If only for a little while, work doesn’t exist. It’s just you, him, and the endless night.

Soon, though, the moment is over. You grow impatient. Growling, you shoot up from your seat, fumbling with the fastenings of your own pants. Your mouth is still interlocked with Copia’s, the sudden motion causing your teeth to clack together. Somehow you just can’t get the button undone. The piece of plastic keeps slipping through your fingers, still slick with saliva and smears of precum. Suddenly, you want to fucking scream, to give up this game and go flop down in your tent and pass out, but then Copia’s hands are shooing yours away. He pulls back from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, encouraging you to take a few deep breaths in and out your nose. You recognize the look in his eyes from the field, from the moments of stress and crisis you’ve had over these past few weeks. Your heartbeat begins to steady, knowing its meaning:

Chill out, baby. I’ve got you.

You sigh, eyes sliding shut as you let Copia take over the task of unbuttoning your pants. He nestles his face into the crook of your neck as he does, planting a kiss to the sensitive flesh. You feel the glide of his tongue, sampling the salt of your skin, and shiver. Once he’s done with your zipper he grabs your trousers at the hips and tugs them down your legs, leaving them bunched up at your knees. You feel almost childish, needing him to undress you like this, but can’t deny how arousing it is to watch him take care of you. As if to prove that point, the tips of his fingers ghost over your outer lips, just enough for him to feel the wetness soaking through your panties. Even the most simple touch is electrifying against your frayed nerves, and you whimper. Copia’s hand slips under the waistband, skilled digits immediately finding your clit and drawing tight circles around it. A choked sob leaves you when he bites down on your neck, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to evoke the image of him claiming you in your whirling, lust-clouded mind.

“Cope,” you whine, about to rag-doll against him. “Fuck. Come on.” He snickers into your neck, the stray hairs of his normally well-kept mustache tickling your skin, before leaving another playful nip just under your jaw. Grinding his hot, hard cock against your hip, he grunts. The hand pleasuring you retreats, his pointer finger hooking under your panties and tugging them down. He delves between your folds once more, gathering your arousal and using it to slick up his length. There’s a pinprick of loss, of missing having him close, as he turns you around to bend over the tree limb, but it’s quickly replaced by anticipation when the head of his cock prods at your center. Bracing yourself against the branch, you need only wiggle your hips enticingly and he’s pushing into you, a held-back moan rumbling deep in his chest. The stretch is heavenly, hitting all the spots that have gone so tragically neglected. Copia gives an experimental thrust and your head falls between your shoulders. “Oh, fuck, yes.” Your legs are already wobbling. You choose not to think about how the ten hours of hiking on tomorrow’s agenda will feel.

For the time being, both of his hands snake around to your front, sliding under your shirt to fondle your breasts. He latches onto your nipples almost instantly, and each time he pinches the little pink buds a shockwave travels down your spine. Already, that climactic energy is building, nestled deep in your belly. Copia’s pace is casual, unhurried, as if he wasn’t griping about the time only minutes ago. You can feel the heat of his body against your back, his still-damp field shirt sticking to your equally sweaty skin. When you get home, you’ll take the longest shower known to mankind. If Copia is lucky, maybe you’ll invite him to join you. Right now, though, you need more from him. Much more. Twisting your head back, you smash your mouth into his with a needy whine, nipping and tugging at his bottom lip.

“Faster,” you beg, pressing your backside into him so that he can reach even deeper inside you. “Please.” Copia chuckles against your lips, a hand traveling to the apex of your legs to toy with your aching clit. You swear there’s a glint of something wicked in his eyes as he watches your whole body convulse with pleasure, but before you can chastise him for teasing he captures your mouth once more, tongue pushing forcefully past your lips. He keeps you like that a while, using the hand at your chest to hold you in place until you see stars. Once he’s had his fill you finally get your wish, his hips bucking into you with earnest. The clap of skin-on-skin makes you a little nervous, but it’s just so hard to care about being caught when he’s doing you this good.

Copia grunts, pressing his cheek into yours. You can feel the sweat beading at his temples. “You make me work like a fucking dog all day, and still all you do is boss me around. I had better be getting overtime for this.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, you poor thing. Sorry I’m so-“ The head of his cock hits your sweet spot perfectly and you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan. “Demanding.”

Copia snickers, kissing you again. “Anything to please you, Boss Lady.”

At this pace, it doesn’t take long until you’re teetering on the edge of your release. From the intensity of Copia’s breathing and the small stutters in his thrusts, you can tell he’s not far off either. The tree bark, sun-dried and peeling off in strips, digs into your palms, but you cling tighter to the branch as your knees begin to knock together. He still has a hand on your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. One of yours, smaller and not nearly as worn (yet), comes up to rest atop it. Absentmindedly, you trace the thin line of a scar running down the length of his middle finger, a souvenir from his field school days. He takes that as a cue to intertwine his digits with yours. Something about that finally sets you off, and with a few more swipes around your clit you’re falling apart, shaking and cursing. It’s like every thread of tension in your body decides to relax at once, forcefully expelling the stress you’ve been bottling up all week. Copia says nothing but is with you through the entire ordeal, planting soft kisses on your cheek as you come down. Once you start squirming from overstimulation he stops playing with your clit, but keeps fucking you just as hard and fast. A few moments later he moans through gritted teeth, pulling out to jerk himself off the rest of the way. Over your combined breathing you can just barely make out the sound of his release spattering onto the sandy soil below.

You remain like that, him hunched over your bent form, for a few beats. After collectively catching your breath Copia straightens back up, stretching with a satisfied groan. Before either of you can forget, he kicks some dirt over the newly consecrated, cum-soaked ground, concealing the evidence of your rendezvous. “That do it for ya?” He asks, tucking his softening member back in his pants. Contented, you sigh, nodding as you pull your own trousers up. You don’t bother with the accursed button, choosing to have faith in just your zipper.

“Oh, yeah.” Once you’re confident your pants will stay up, you pull him in for another kiss. “Thank you for indulging me.” He smiles gently at you, green eyes twinkling like the stars above. All of sudden, the entire day seems to hit you at once, your eyes growing heavy. You and Copia yawn at the same time, then share a laugh. He checks his watch again, letting out another amused huff.

“9:57,” he notes. “That’s a new record, I think.”

“Congrats,” you say, stepping around to give him playful smack on the ass. “We’ll get you a medal.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“How about a raise?” At this you both crack up again, giggling until your sides begin to hurt. After a few deep breaths, you shake your head, taking a few paces back in the direction of camp.

“This project will kill us first.”

Still basking in afterglow, the journey back to the tents is comfortably quiet. The silence remains as the two of you go about packing up all the tools and papers you left around the fire, now completely dead. To be safe, though, Copia grabs a shovel and dumps a load of sand onto the coals, stirring the whole mess around until he’s absolutely sure it’s been smothered. You watch as he does, already dreading the chill the morning will bring. A decadent thought, that of curling up next to him and drifting off to sleep, crosses your mind. Something in your chest flutters, and you quickly stamp out the idea, lest you get carried away. With a sigh, you sling your pack over your shoulder and shuffle towards your tent.

As you’re unzipping the rain-flap, you hear Copia approach from behind. Turning to acknowledge him, you have to stifle a surprised squeak as he cups your cheek and presses his mouth to yours, keeping you there for a good, long while. Even after making him fuck you, and though you’re exhausted, you can’t help but feel at least a little excited by it.

“See you tomorrow,” he says. It is, sadly, bedtime.

“See you tomorrow,” you whisper, already missing him. Unable to help yourself, you lean in for another chaste kiss, relishing in the warmth and softness of his lips. Before it can turn into another, you open the tent the rest of the way, flopping down on your mattress pad. After sealing yourself inside, the last of your energy is spent shucking off your dirty, sweaty clothes and crawling into your sleeping bag. As soon as your eyes shut, you’re asleep. When you wake in the morning, the only dream you can recall is of Copia, gazing up with wonder at a sky full of shooting stars.

You’ll tell the crew, and maybe HR, eventually. For now, though, what you two have is precious. It’s all yours, and you wouldn’t give that up for anything.

[chaotic-archaeologist]

I’ve got a spinal fusion from the base of my neck to just below my belly button. Do you think I could become an archeologist?

The question to ask yourself isn't can I be an archaeologist? so much as what kind of archaeology can I do? You know your body best, and you should be able to make an informed decision about the kind of physical labor you can safely do.

Maybe you can't do the kind of heavy manual labor required for fieldwork, in which case, join the club! Neither can I, so I've deliberately chosen my career path based on the things I can do. The great news is that there's an abundance of lab work, digital work, theoretical work, educational work, etc that is completely unrelated to your ability to excavate.

I'm a big believer that archaeology is for everyone, and that the field is enriched by people who have different viewpoints and life experiences. Check out the Disabled Archaeologists Network, which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. You're not the first person to have struggled with a question like this, and now there's a community dedicated to providing support for archaeologists with disabilities.

-Reid

[snzymae]

an archaeologist with a cold whose already sensitive nose is irritated by the dust and dirt they have to brush off the artifacts they find. normally, they wouldn’t want to work like this, but they’re so close to finding artifacts from the ancient city they’ve been studying their whole life. they wrinkle their nose in attempt to clear some dust, but that only tickles their nose more. they turn their head away from the others at the dig and let out an earth-shattering sneeze.

and it wouldn’t really matter to the rest of the dig team, but the archaeologist next to them happens to be their romantic partner. they watch as the sickie continues working, clearing their throat and sneezing. their partner wants to tell them to go back to their tent and rest, but they know how much this means to their career and their personal studies, so they let them go.

but then the thunder claps above them and the rain starts to pour. they both rush back to their lodgings and spend the night cuddling together for warmth.

in the morning, they’re much worse, but the sickie dresses themselves for work alongside their partner.

“Sweetheart,” their partner warns. “I don’t think you should go into the field today with that cold. It’s supposed to rain again all day today.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“But you can barely speak!”

“Well, good thing I don’t need to speak to the dead.”