30 Kisses: Melody

I swear the universe conspired against this fic. 

The day had been long and trying and had, by the end of it, tied itself up into a complicated knot. It throbbed between his eyes now, making the charts and figures on the laptop screen swim in and out of focus. The key to unraveling it was somewhere in there, buried between neat columns of figures, if only he could just find it.

His fingers tapped along the edge of the desk, pressing down on imaginary keys to sound out silent cords. Despite the tension in this brow, his fingers were relaxed, delicately curved in a way that would have made Mr. Long, dead nearly 200 years, twitch his thin lips up in approval (the moment Oliver made the slightest mistake however, that smile would disappear and the man’s thin baton would come whistling down, rapping smartly across the boy’s knuckles). Oliver paused, his own lips quirking upwards. Despite having lived for the man’s small morsels of praise for nearly ten years, he hadn’t thought of Mr. Long in decades. His smile turned rueful. No doubt, if the man were to see him now, there would be a rap on the knuckles, followed by a gravelly, “you think too much. It’s music, not a problem.”

With a sigh, Oliver sat back in his chair, eyeing the laptop screen sourly. Maybe he was over thinking things. His fingers twitched, longing to be pressing at a different kind of keyboard. Oliver tucked them against his palms, but the itch continued, joined by a mounting desire to send the whole file back to Matthew as it was, and let him make heads or tails of it.

Shoulders squaring, he reached out the pushed the laptop closed. He’d give in to one temptation, but not the other.

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Ancient post-it notes!


How often do you reach for a Post-It note? Maybe you’re making that to do list, or figuring out your groceries. But you know, what if you lived BEFORE Post-It notes or scrap paper? What would you use then?

In Thebes, where these examples are from, and across the Roman Empire, scraps of used and broken pottery would be used to scribble quick notes. These examples are called ostraka. Most of the ostraka that our conservators and curators are studying right now contain notes on taxes and granary receipts from the second century AD.

The notes are written in Greek script. Kay Sunahara, ROM archaeologist studying these pieces, described the Greek langage at the time as, “the lingua franca of the Mediterranean”. Greek was the most frequently used written language, used to help bridge the gap between speakers of different languages, much like English today.

The majority of these pieces we’re found and acquired in the early 1900’s by none other than ROM founder Charles T. Currelly.

So how are these scrap pieces of pottery useful to archaeology today? Are grocery lists really that vaulabe? For archaeologists, ostraka provide them with a great deal of information about the people who left these notes in the first place. Information such as what people were eating, trading for, in trouble for, and the prices of things, give us a unique look into those who lived far before us, in this case well over a thousand years ago.

Interestingly enough, it also shows us just how similar we are to those who lived long before. Everyone needs groceries, and a reminder letter, maybe from their mom, or from their husband, of what to get from the store.

National Archaeology Day takes place on October 20th at the ROM and many other museums around the world!

Easter Drabbles

featuring some of the provinces and a random texas

Nanook’s sundress had started out pale yellow, with tiny rabbits picked out carefully in white thread. Halfway through the egg hunt, it had become more of a muddy green, the yellow peeping out only between grass stains. One rabbit had been lost entirely to a thick brown smear, which Matthew hoped was mud but thought was probably chocolate.

He held her basket in his lap, fingers curled easily around the pastel patterned wicker, watching her run across the field of parliament hill. Occasionally, she would toddle back over to him, her tiny arms filled with brightly coloured eggs, and tip them into the basket for safe keeping.  Then she would be off again, running, and tripping, and shrieking with laughter.

The dress was a lost cause, Matthew mused, but her smile was worth it.

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Flash fic

My bunnies weren’t cooperating, so Liz challenged me to a flash fic involving hugs. I like hugs. 

The sound of the front door opening and closing brought Alex’s head up. He paused, one ear cocked, but no further sound came from the front foyer.   


There was the rattle of keys hitting the small porcelain dish kept by the door, but no greeting back as there usually was.  Slightly perturbed, Alex set down the basketball bracket sheet he had been carefully filling out, and clambered out of the chair, padding across the room to peek down the hallway to the front door.

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Sooo apparently toronto is having a “Just for Cats” festival tonight. It is dedicated to cat videos.

It is sold out.

Last day of class today. Two weeks until I am officially an educational assistant at my museum.

….I am both ecstatic and terrified. 

Dead fic dump



file is getting too big, time to dump the dead ones. Just a whole lot of QuOn and Ny/On

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-takes a deep breath- -takes another- -takes a million more-
Did you hear that? That was the sound of my heart breaking into a billion tiny pieces. I legit shed tears over these. They were beautiful and gut wrenching and sad and ugh. The last one destroyed me for good. Have I ever said I love the way you write and you seriously make me feel so many different raw emotions when I read your stuff?

thank you <3 <3 <3

if it helps, um there is a shit load of really sweet and happy stuff (including Celine Dion songbook XD) coming up in my queue??