#space archaeologist

[turtleblogatlast]

Love the thought of Leo and Mikey teaming up their mystic abilities to prank archeologists and historians

Leo makes a portal then within that, Mikey opens a very very small time portal of his own

They toss something in and excitedly wait for the results of the dig-site right where Leo had set his portal to

Cue mass confusion as the archeologists wonder what the hell a 1000+ year old Lou Jitsu figurine is doing in the ruins of an ancient city all the while Mikey and Leo laugh themselves unconscious

[evilhorse]

Planetary preview

RIP John Cassaday

[movie-robotnik-positivity]

Sonic 3 will be centered around a goverment conspiracy. The previous movie established that Longclaw's tribe once lived on Earth and built several structures. SA2's story includes an Egypt-like location....

Just saying...what if the owls built the pyramids?

[boygirlctommy]

is anyone else here in archaeology youtube have you guys heard about the crucifixion of flint dibble

[catsafarithewriter]

After the fortnight from hell, I finally had a free day and I've made belated progress on TBF 😅 I'm already so excited for when I'll be able to share the first case, it's gonna be so much fun!

[klumpypotamus]

Daily O’Brien - 03/10 Miles “The Mummy” O’Brien

[https-sally]

hatsune miku, tw: discussion of religion

is this miku ?

[v2 miku art]

no. it isnt.

its a representation of miku, it isnt miku herself. 

[clip art of a pringles can with 3 pringles on the side]

that image is miku about as much as this one is a pringles can. meaning it isnt, its just a representation of one.

what is miku ?

“a vocaloid” you might say, “a voice bank” maybe, “an anime character” no. “an icon” ? yes, she is.

miku is an idea, she only exists because we, as a collective, agree so. she has no physical body, yet she exists. not as a real human person of flesh and bone, but as a concept. every depiction of her is just an interpretation of the idea of “hatsune miku”.

shes a bit like money

[photo of a one (1) euro coin]

this coin has a value of one (1) euro only because we as a society have agreed it has. in the same way this 

[v4 miku art]

only “is miku” because we have agreed that is so.

i was raised catholic christian. not very strictly or overly religiously, but that is the religion and idea of god i am most familiar with.

i think god exists, but not as an actual being, but as an idea. the act of believing in god creates god, the act of believing in god is god. very similar to miku. she exists only through our belief that she does.

people put up shrines for their gods, they turn to them in times of worry when they need comfort, and they believe in their gods. so isnt hatsune miku a god ? does a god need world creating and destroying power ? does miku have world creating power ? do the countless people shes saved count as worlds made ? if the world only exists through the perception of those within it, doesnt that mean every person is their own world ? doesnt that mean miku has created countless worlds ? has saved countless worlds ?

i jokingly say i follow mikuism when someone asks me what region im part of, but could i not say so genuinely ? 

[ "any specific system of belief and worship, often involving a code of ethics and a philosophy." This definition would exclude religions that do not engage in worship. It implies that there are two important components to religion: one's belief and worship in a deity or deities.]

im not reading all that, BUT does that not mean miku can literally be a god ?

does that not mean miku is a god ?

[the-nettle-knight]

What really bothers me about the whole "museums are in crisis" thing is that it's not about stolen artefacts. We absolutely should repatriate what was stolen, but those artefacts are a tiny proportion of what is in museums. This is all about British artefacts, because every single cm of this island has been inhabited. A big site can produce thousands or even tend of thousands of artefacts. These are two separate issues and saying "just return everything" isn't actually helping anything or even valid in this case

[cremepuf]

The movies I haven’t seen in the tags

[sapphicautistic]

In the 1980s in France, musicologists and archaeologists Iégor Reznikoff and Michel Dauvois used their voices to explore caves with notable Paleolithic wall paintings. By singing simple notes and whistling, they mapped their perceptions of the caves’ acoustics. They found that paintings were often located in places that were particularly resonant. Animal paintings were common in resonant chambers and in places along the walls that produced strong reverberation. As they crawled through narrow tunnels, they discovered painted red dots exactly located in the most resonant places. The entrances to these tunnels were also marked with paintings. Resonant recesses in walls were especially heavily ornamented.

In a 2017 study, a dozen acousticians, archaeologists, and musicians measured the sonic qualities of cave interiors in northern Spain. The team, led by acoustic scientist Bruno Fazenda, used speakers, computers, and microphone arrays to measure the behavior of precisely calibrated tones within the cave. The caves they studied contain wall art spanning much of the Paleolithic, dating from about forty thousand years to fifteen thousand years ago. The art includes handprints, abstract points and lines, and a bestiary of Paleolithic animals including birds, fish, horses, bovids, reindeer, bear, ibex, cetaceans, and humanlike figures. From hundreds of standardized measurements, the team found that painted red dots and lines, the oldest wall markings, are associated with parts of the cave where low frequencies resonate and sonic clarity is high due to modest reverberation. These would have been excellent places for speech and more complex forms of music, not muddied by excessive reverberation. Animal paintings and handprints were also likely to be in places where clarity is high and overall reverberation is low but with a good low-frequency response. These are the qualities that we seek now in modern performance spaces.

Sounds Wild and Broken, David George Haskell

[xomoosexo]

Got nothing to do about how I came in the fandom but everything with DNF :

My last fandom with real persons had a ship really popular. Except the persons were OK at first then very unconfortable with it as people were too upfront about it (and needed to say stop, which people didn't heed 'till it became unbearable for everyone and the ccs cut contact). So coming through the DSMP then dteam, I was very cautious about DNF bc I feared a repetition

Fool that I was, I didn't realize how insane they are about each other

😭😭😭 wait now I'm interested in what the other fandom was

[evilhorse]

Planetary #19

RIP John Cassaday

[vsholmes]

FUGITIVES COVER REVEAL

​It’s finally here! The fifth and penultimate book in the Stars Edge: Nel Bently Books is available for preorder, and you can check out the amazing cover below, plus find a glimpse of the first chapter.

Fugitives will hit shelves August 12th.

PREORDER NOW!

ABOUT FUGITIVES

Queer archaeological science fiction with a side of horror and romance. 👩‍🚀 Lesbian POV 👩‍🚀 LGBTQIA supporting cast 👩‍🚀 Snark, Science, and Sex 👩‍🚀 Action-Adventure 👩‍🚀 Lovers-to-enemies 👩‍🚀 Space-horror

The body count is rising, and so is Nel's temper. Archaeologist Dr. Nel Bently has spent her life avoiding clingy exes, but she never dreamed she’d be escaping across the stars. Now she and a fleet of refugees are hunted at every turn by the only woman she ever made the mistake of loving. And Nel, used to outrunning everything, just lost a leg. ​ Facing her life’s new trajectory is hard enough, but when Nel starts hearing the deadly signal they tracked on Earth, she is forced to team up with the two men who were once her greatest enemies. Then, a grisly discovery on an abandoned hauler sheds horrific light on the voices in Nel’s head–and what, exactly, Lin is after. Their hold is full of bodies, their plans are full of holes, and bad-tempered Dr. Nel Bently, avoidant-extraordinaire, is sick of running.

READ THE FIRST CHAPTER

[notlongtolove]

your star next to mine

nobody loves the earth for spinning, not really. it's been turning for 4.6 billion years with no applause. the sun rises then sets, and the moon follows suit. the stars flicker in their wake and the earth spins regardless. spencer thinks you’re more than the sun, moon, and stars combined.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: established relationshippp ugh waking up to spencer reid <3 actually more like spencer reid waking up to bau!reader (spoiler: hes out of this world in love with her)

word count: 1k

note: writing this made me SICKKKK with longing and yearning (they r so in love and i hate them for it ugh) sorry sorry writing ab stars and spencer reid in bed AGAIN im sorry i just want to romanticise small moments in life (theyre coming for me with a strait jacket as we speak)

a line: It’s hard to tell where you end and where he begins—Spencer hopes he never has to find out.

When The Big met The Bang and science happened before eyes that did not exist yet, collided and made love to each other was your star next to mine? Tell me, my love; did someone ever wish upon the star we are made from? - m. chase

There are roughly 7100 languages spoken and signed on earth. Spencer himself is familiar with at least seven of them. Russian, Latin, Middle English, to name a few. You remember him explaining the intricacies of medieval typography during your third date—You think you fell in love with him somewhere between his comparison of Gothic and Carolingian scripts. 

Before there were text messages made up of abbreviations and emojis, there were letters. Love letters of thoughts born from lovelorn minds that made their way into granite, pressed against the grain of paper. Before that, feathered quills dipped in ink, sometimes splattering on parchment. A testament to words too heavy to get out right, but a need to get them out all the same. 

But the earth has been spinning for 4.6 billion years. And before that, there were cavemen that carved primitive symbols into stone—etches and notches that archaeologists still devote their lives to deciphering. Spencer sometimes thinks that had he not joined the FBI, he might’ve found himself in their shoes, decoding ancient scribbles, a circle with four notches, stick figures huddling around it. 

Now, he thinks, there’s not much left to figure out after all.

You turn in your sleep, hand searching for him in the mess of sheets. No words needed. I missed you, even in sleep. I miss you. Spencer shuffles a little closer to appease you, the small crease in your brow softens, almost vanishes, content when you find the curve of his hip. When Spencer places his hand over waist, he knows you know what he’s saying. I missed you too. I miss you, even in sleep.

Your hand shifts to accommodate his, intertwining with his in a way that makes his chest squeeze. It’s a dance you’ve both perfected, your fingers settling into the spaces between his. His hands are far from soft. The callus on his left palm is rough and worn, a result of years in the field with his gun. Yours aren’t perfect either—nails a little less neat than you'd like, a few nicks from the hurried days of recent weeks. His thumb traces the back of your hand. You give a small squeeze in return. And then two more. It’s instinctual—fingers find fingers. Spencer gives three squeezes back. 

But then your hand pushes past his, brushing lightly over the scab on the small of his back—A close call with a bullet during last week’s case. Even in sleep, you frown at the reminder. Not a big deal, baby, he’d winced through the burning pain in an effort to reassure you. You’d cried anyway. Later, you’d marched straight to Hotch, demanding better bulletproof vests—I don’t care if they have a bigger budget, I want the kind they use down in D.C.

Spencer gently takes your hand and places it on his chest. The tension in your brow visibly eases. For a moment, it rests there, still and quiet, before it stirs again, sleepily travelling up to settle on the curve of his neck. The birthmark on your shoulder makes a quiet appearance when his shirt slides off you a little. A lover’s kiss from a past life. Spencer hopes it was him in your life before this. And the one before that. And all the other ones before that. 

He breathes you in as you nuzzle into his neck, the motion guided by how tightly he pulls you to him. The only thing he loves more than falling asleep to you is waking up to you. It’s hard to tell where you end and where he begins—Spencer hopes he never has to find out. You pull back slightly humming lightly into his skin, a good morning before the good morning. A hi again, i’m glad it’s you i’m waking up to. 

The strands of hair falling into your face can’t hide the explosion of color in your eyes when they sleepily blink open. Once, then twice, before you’re closing them again—It’s woefully insufficient. Spencer thinks of how constellations were once used for navigation. They guided sailors across vast oceans, helping them find their way home. 

Then you’re leaning in to kiss him, eyes still closed. When the big met the bang all those years ago. His hand moves from your waist, tracing the curve of your spine, down your arm, and back up. You catch his bottom lip lightly between your teeth and Spencer sees stars. He thinks it’s a wonder you still have this effect on him after 439 days—206 of those being nights spent together. His fingers graze along your jaw before resting gently on your lips. A journey from waist to lips—one Spencer would gladly make a thousand times and more.

As someone with a PhD in Mathematics and who prides himself in his comprehension of logic and reason, Spencer knows infinity is an abstract idea. It’s an unreachable concept through mere arithmetic. But for you, he’d solve for it a million times over just so he doesn’t have to spend a single day without you. Honest to god, he doesn’t think he can. Truthfully, he doesn’t know how he’s managed to go so long without you in the first place.

When you pull away breathless, grinning, it’s almost a little wicked. You're definitely fully awake now. Cheeks flushed, lips red and rosy and you’re both leaning in again.

No words said. Lips to lips. A universal love letter through the ages. Pieces of parchment, folded and sealed, wax stamps guarding tenderness in ink. Hairs tucked inside lockets. Pictures in weathered wallets. From the sea to the shore, from the granite to the quills, from the stone to the paper. No words needed. 

Nobody loves the Earth for spinning, not really. It's been turning for 4.6 billion years with no applause. The sun rises then sets, and the moon follows suit. The stars flicker in their wake and the earth spins regardless. Spencer thinks you’re more than the sun, moon, and stars combined. 

There’s nothing else to decipher. A fact, pure and simple. An absolute consistency through and through. 

Lips to lips, over and over. The big meets the bang, again and again. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: sidelines by phoebe bridgers sailor song by gigi perez

[blueiscoool]

Bronze Statues and Coins Found at Ancient Sacred Bath in Tuscany

Archaeological excavations at the Bagno Grande sanctuary in San Casciano dei Bagni, Tuscany, Italy, have uncovered a wealth of artifacts that highlight the Etruscan-Roman heritage of this ancient thermal site.

Dating back to the 3rd century BCE, the sanctuary was originally constructed by the Etruscans and later developed by the Romans into the renowned spa complex, Balnea Clusinae. Revered for its therapeutic hot springs, the site attracted visitors from across the Roman Empire, including Caesar Augustus.

The recent excavation, spanning June to October 2024, focused on the sacred temenos, a walled enclosure surrounding the sanctuary, and revealed the remnants of a central temple built around a thermal water basin. Within this sacred space, archaeologists unearthed an array of votive offerings and artifacts remarkably preserved by thermal waters and clay.

Among the most notable finds are four bronze statues, votive limbs, and heads, inscribed with dedications. A striking bronze torso, bisected from neck to genitals, was dedicated by a man named Gaius Roscius to the “Hot Spring.” Researchers suggest this statue symbolizes the healing of specific ailments. Other discoveries include a child statue portraying an augur priest holding a pentagonal ball, likely used in divination rituals, and elegant votive heads inscribed in Latin.

Inscriptions in both Etruscan and Latin were uncovered, including dedications to the Nymphs and the thermal spring, referred to as “Flere Havens” in Etruscan, and oaths to Fortuna and the Genius of the Emperor.

The sacred basin contained a diverse range of offerings, including oil lamps, glass unguent jars, painted terracotta anatomical votives, and coins—more than 10,000 spanning the Roman Republic to the Empire. Precious metals, such as a gold crown and ring, Roman aurei, and fragments of amber and gemstones, were also uncovered. Notably, the presence of preserved eggs, some with intact yolks, suggests rites symbolizing rebirth and regeneration.

Decorative elements such as pinecones, branches, and bronze serpents—one nearly a meter long and thought to represent the Agathodaimon, a protective spirit—emphasize the connection between the rejuvenating waters and nature’s generative power.

Efforts are underway to preserve these extraordinary finds. The National Archaeological Museum of San Casciano dei Bagni is being established in the Archpriest’s Palace to house the artifacts, while a thermal archaeological park is planned around Bagno Grande to promote cultural tourism.

By Dario Radley.

[city-of-ladies]

"Here’s what we know about Julia Felix: she lived in Pompeii from at least 62 CE. She was possibly illegitimate but was definitely not a member of the social and cultural elite. She worked for a living setting up and running a very interesting business and, by 79 CE, she had planned to shift her focus from managing a business to owning property. We know all these things because twentieth-century excavations at her business uncovered an advert, carved in stone and attached to the external wall of her huge building. It reads:

"To rent for the period of five years from the thirteenth day of next August to the thirteenth day of the sixth August, the Venus Bath fitted for the nogentium, shops with living quarters over the shops, apartments on the second floor located in the building of Julia Felix, daughter of Spurius. At the end of five years, the agreement is terminated."

This find illuminated the building it was attached to, bringing what otherwise looked like a very large anonymous domestic house into dazzling focus. With this description of the purpose of each room written by the owner herself, archaeologists and historians could see the site through a whole new lens and they realised that they had discovered a Roman entertainment space for the working middle classes. It is, so far, a completely unique find and it is magnificent. It offers us, as modern viewers, two amazing things: a little glimpse into the lives of the commercial classes of the Roman Empire who are so often completely and utterly invisible, and a brutal reminder that so much of what we ‘know’ about Roman women in the Roman world comes from rules concerning only the most elite.

We’ll do that second part first, because it’s the least fun. Roman written and legal sources are pretty universal in their agreement that although women could own property, they could not control it; they had no legal rights, could not make contracts and were to be treated as minors by the legal system for their entire lives. In order to buy or sell property women required a male guardian to oversee and sign off on any transactions. This is a basic truism of women in the Roman Empire, repeated ad nauseum by sources both ancient and modern including me, and it is undermined by Julia Felix’s rental notice. 

The rental ad makes it pretty clear that Julia Felix is the owner-operator of a business complex including public baths, shops and apartments (there’s more too, as we’ll see), and she doesn’t seem to require anyone else to help her rent it out. She names her father – sort of; ‘Spurius’ might just mean that she is illegitimate – but this is effectively a surname, a personal identifier to differentiate her from other Julia Felixes in the area. It doesn’t mean her father was involved. Furthermore, the use of her father’s name as an identifier suggests that Julia didn’t have a husband and was either unmarried or widowed in 79 CE. The strong implication of her advert is that Julia Felix was an independent lady, a honey making money and a momma profiting dollars who could truthfully throw her hands up to Destiny’s Child.

We will never know if Julia escaped the flames and choking ash of 79 CE, fleeing as it swallowed her business and her home, but one discovery, made on 28 January 1952, suggests that she didn’t. The archaeologists, led by Amedeo Maiuri, uncovered on that day the skeleton of a woman who had fallen while running across the garden during the disaster. It’s clear this fallen woman was well off, because she was wearing a lot of gold jewellery. She carried four gold half-hoop earrings and wore four gold rings. Two of these rings were particularly expensive; both contained a red carnelian gem, one carved with a figure of Mercury, the other with an eagle. Around her neck she wore a necklace of gold filigree, dotted with ten pearls and hung with a green pendant. Someone stole both the necklace and earrings from the Pompeii Antiquarium in 1975 and no one, somehow, had ever bothered to photograph them so all we have are descriptions but the rings that survive are fine and expensive. The woman who wore them – was wearing them when she died – had real money to buy these objects and the woman who wore them did'nt leave Pompei in time.

 Moreover, when she was found it was clear that at the moment of her death she was heading not towards the street or towards safety, but towards the shrine to Isis in the garden where all the most valuable possessions were kept. The valuable possessions that Julia Felix grafted for and maybe couldn’t bear to leave behind. There’s no way to tell whether this skeleton is Julia Felix, whether these bones once stood and looked at the plots of land Julia bought and made plans, or whether they belong to a looter or a chancer or someone just caught out. But it’s nice to pretend that Julia Felix, who shaped the city’s roads around her dream and offered respite and luxury to workers and made a tonne of money doing it, died and was buried with the place that still bears her name."

A Rome of One's Own: The Forgotten Women of the Roman Empire, Emma Southon