#roman alphabet

[wtfearth123]

The Evolution of the Alphabet: A Story of Human Ingenuity and Innovation 🤯

How the Alphabet Changed the World: A 3,800-Year Journey

The evolution of the alphabet over 3,800 years is a long and complex story. It begins with the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, which were a complex system of pictograms and ideograms that could be used to represent words, sounds, or concepts. Over time, the hieroglyphs were simplified and adapted to represent only sounds, resulting in the first true alphabets.

The first alphabets were developed in the Middle East, and the Phoenician alphabet is considered to be the direct ancestor of the Latin alphabet. The Phoenician alphabet had 22 letters, each of which represented a single consonant sound. This was a major breakthrough, as it made it much easier to write and read.

The Phoenician alphabet was adopted by the Greeks, who added vowels to the system. The Greek alphabet was then adopted by the Romans, who made some further changes to the letters. The Latin alphabet, as we know it today, is essentially the same as the Roman alphabet, with a few minor modifications.

The English alphabet is derived from the Latin alphabet, but it has undergone some further changes over the centuries. For example, the letters "J" and "U" were added to the English alphabet in the Middle Ages, and the letter "W" was added in the 16th century.

The evolution of the alphabet has had a profound impact on human history. It has made it possible to record and transmit knowledge, ideas, and stories from one generation to the next. It has also helped to facilitate communication and trade between different cultures.

The alphabets are a fascinating invention that have revolutionized the way humans communicate and record information. The history of the alphabets spans over 3,800 years, tracing its origins from the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs to the modern English letters.

Here is a brief overview of how the alphabets have evolved over time:

Egyptian hieroglyphs (c. 3200 BC): The earliest form of writing was the pictographic system, which used symbols to represent objects or concepts. The ancient Egyptians developed a complex system of hieroglyphs, which combined pictograms, ideograms, and phonograms to write their language. Hieroglyphs were mainly used for religious and monumental purposes, and were carved on stone, wood, or metal.

Proto-Sinaitic script (c. 1750 BC): Around 2000 BCE, a group of Semitic workers in Egypt adapted some of the hieroglyphs to create a simpler and more flexible writing system that could represent the sounds of their language. This was the first consonantal alphabet, or abjad, which used symbols to write only consonants, leaving the vowels to be inferred by the reader. This alphabet is also known as the Proto-Sinaitic script, because it was discovered in the Sinai Peninsula.

Phoenician alphabet (c. 1000 BC): A consonantal alphabet with 22 letters, each of which represented a single consonant sound. The Proto-Sinaitic script spread to other regions through trade and migration, and gave rise to several variants, such as the Phoenician, Aramaic, Hebrew, and South Arabian alphabets. These alphabets were used by various Semitic peoples to write their languages, and were also adopted and modified by other cultures, such as the Greeks, Etruscans, and Romans.

Greek alphabet (c. 750 BC): The Greek alphabet was the first to introduce symbols for vowels, making it a true alphabet that could represent any sound in the language. The Greek alphabet was derived from the Phoenician alphabet around the 8th century BCE, and added new letters for vowel sounds that were not present in Phoenician. The Greek alphabet also introduced different forms of writing, such as uppercase and lowercase letters, and various styles, such as cursive and uncial.

Latin alphabet (c. 500 BC): The Latin alphabet was derived from the Etruscan alphabet, which was itself derived from the Greek alphabet. 

Roman alphabet (c. 1 CE): The Roman alphabet is essentially the same as the Latin alphabet, as we know it today. The Latin alphabet was used by the Romans to write their language, Latin, and became the dominant writing system in Europe after the fall of the Roman Empire. The Latin alphabet was also adapted to write many other languages, such as Germanic, Celtic, Slavic, and Romance languages.

English alphabet (c. 500 AD): The English alphabet is derived from the Latin alphabet, but it has undergone some further changes over the centuries. For example, the letters "J" and "U" were added to the English alphabet in the Middle Ages, and the letter "W" was added in the 16th century. The English alphabet consists of 26 letters, but can represent more than 40 sounds with various combinations and diacritics. The English alphabet has also undergone many changes in spelling, pronunciation, and usage throughout its history.

The evolution of the alphabet is a remarkable example of human creativity and innovation that have enabled us to express ourselves in diverse and powerful ways. It is also a testament to our cultural diversity and interconnectedness, as it reflects the influences and interactions of different peoples and languages across time and space.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the post about the evolution of the alphabet. If you did, please share it with your friends and family. 😊🙏

[ancientstuff]

Never doubted it for an instant. True fact: when I was in high school, taking chemistry, I was so bored I wrote all my notes in runes. Took AGES to study from them. Don't copy me, little leaguers.

[lexivass]

Feel free to share your country in the tags <3

[glyptolite]

Study of Z, or the Zendik Glyph, by Shane Huss.

[thoughtportal]

Chinese is one of the oldest still-spoken languages in the world. But when technologies arrived like telegraphy and computing, designed with the Roman alphabet in mind, if Chinese wanted to be able to participate then it had to choose between adapting, or paying a heavy price. And sometimes both were inevitable. Jing Tsu, author of Kingdom of Characters: The Language Revolution that Made China Modern, recounts how Chinese contended with obstacles like alphabetisation, Romanisation and standardisation.

[melancholia-ennui]

Getting a "video is unavailable" notice on the link so idk if the original went into more detail but the gif set are a little misleading, and importantly miss out my favourite parts of the history of the Roman alphabet, so to put my Linguistics masters degree to good use here's a few corrections.

The invention of vowels

The above gifs suggest that the bull glyph was chosen to represent the sound /a/ because the early Canaanite word for "bull" was alf - this is only half true. The early Canaanite word for "bull" was 'alf, with that first little ' symbol indicating the glottal stop /ʔ/, kinda like the middle sounds in a British pronunciation of "bo'le" (as in "water bottle"), and this was the sound represented by the bull glyph in Proto-Sinaitic and by the Phoenician 𐤀‎.

In fact, neither Proto-Sinaitic nor the Phoenician script had any vowels at all - they were consonantal alphabets or abjads. This is why Semitic scripts that are directly descended from Proto-Sinaitic, such as Arabic and Hebrew, historically have no vowel glyphs, and must use either diacritics or repurposed consonant glyphs if they want to represent vowels. (Notably, this isn't much of a problem for Semitic languages due to their trilateral root morphology but that's besides the point.)

So, where the hell did vowels come from?

The answer is, predictably, Ancient Greece, but maybe not in the way you expect. The thing is, the Phoenician abjad had a number of symbols that were used for consonants in Phoenician that either didn't exist as distinct phonemes in Ancient Greek, or which to Greek ears sounded similar enough to other sounds in the alphabet that they seemed redundant - 𐤀‎ for /ʔ/, 𐤄 for /h/, 𐤇‎ for /ħ/, 𐤉‎ for /j/, and 𐤏‎ for /ʕ/.

So these Phoenician traders start rocking up in Greek ports all across the Greek speaking world with this fancy new system of accounting, and naturally the Greek sailors want to learn how they can keep track of goods and stock with short squilly lines. And so, playing out countless times across the Greek peninsula, you get conversations that go something like this:

Phoenician Trader [pointing at 𐤀]: "This is the letter 'alep, it makes the sound /ʔɑ/."

Greek: "Ah, yes, the letter alpe, makes the sound /ɑ/, that makes sense."

And thus, through countless little mistakes, the first vowel letters were invented - Α, Ε, Η, Ι, Ο.

There were some additional complications before we got to the full quota of Greek vowels - Ω was derived from Ο, while the Phoenician 𐤅 /w/ was borrowed into Greek as two letters, Ϝ and Υ. But that's pretty much how we ended up with vowels.

Etruscan erasure? On my good Christian dashboard?!? (it's more likely than you think)

The above gifs state that it was the Romans who rotated 𐤀 to give us modern A. This is wrong: it was the Greeks, and as noted above, skipping over the Greeks to go straight from Phoenicians to the Romans misses the pretty important step of the invention of vowel letters.

However, there is another important step between the Greek alphabet and the Roman one which, while less innovative than the Greek invention of vowels, is nevertheless very important for understanding some of the ways the later Roman alphabet is so damn bizarre. I am talking, of course, about the Etruscans.

Who were the Etruscans? While Rome was still a shitty little monarchy straddling three hills, the Etruscans were the big boys in the town that was the Italic peninsula. A federation of city states centred on Etruria, the Etruscans were (arguably) the dominant force in what is today Italy between around 900 BCE and the late 300s BCE, when Roman grew to eclipse and eventually conquer the Etruscans.

Unfortunately, we know very little about the Etruscans - their language is pre-Indo-European (either an isolate or a member of the hypothetical Tyrsenian family with the Rhaetic languages and Lemnian dependent on which arguments you find most compelling), which creates difficulties in attempts at translation, and the corpus of surviving texts is relatively small (they seem to have mostly used perishable writing materials, which is fine if you live in a dessert but tends to result in your texts disappearing over the centuries when you live somewhere like Italy).

What we do know, however, is that they got their alphabet from the Greeks, specifically Western Greeks. Now the Ancient Western Greek alphabet had already suffered some merging of letter sounds - both Κ and Ϙ were pronounced /k/, which is why K and Q surface as /k/ sounds in Etruscan and later Latin scripts.

However, the Western Greek alphabet also had Γ /g/. The thing is, Etruscan didn't have a /g/ sound, so they just heard this as /k/ as well. Over time, the hard angle in Γ was simplified to a curve, giving the letter 𐌂 /k/. Various other letters were simplified as well, beginning to resemble their modern Roman forms, e.g. 𐌔 /s/ from Σ.

Now the Romans finally enter the scene, and here we have a problem. They got their alphabet from the Etruscans, but Latin had some sounds that Etruscan lacked - specifically, a /g/. The Greek traders had a letter for Γ /g/, but it was very similar to the 𐌂 /k/ the Romans had inherited from the Etruscans. So what did the Romans do? Combine them together of course - add a Γ to a 𐌂 and what do you get, a G for /g/.

This is why the Roman alphabet has three letters for /k/ - C, K and Q - and also why the letter C comes at the point in the Roman alphabet were you would expect gamma Γ. Why does G show up where it does, rather than immediately after C like other derived letters (cf. U V W)? No idea, but at least we know why C is where it is.

This is also, by the by, why I get very irritated when fantasy and sci-fi writing systems have a glyph for C. The existence of C in the Roman alphabet is a very specific, very weird history, and it serves no actual function - C only ever makes the same sound as K or the same sound as S, so there really is no need for it. It's a pure historic artefact. And yet, you will so often find fantasy and sci-fi works presenting their scripts as a one-to-one code for the Roman alphabet, including all of C, G, K and Q where there is no good in-world reasons for all of those letters to exist in that script. If you want me to believe that this is an authentic script from another world, ditch the C (unless you are specifically using the Roman glyph C to notate some particular phoneme, e.g. an unvoiced palatal plosive like the IPA or something).

Anyway, that's my little rant about how vowels were invented by drunken Greek sailors who didn't understand what a /ʔ/ was and how C is the stupidest letter and also my precious little baby because of the Etruscans.

Edit P.S. Also just went back over the gifs and saw she refers to the language of the Proto-Canaanite people as a "dialect" which is kinda yuck. Just fyi historically "dialect" has been used as denigratory term for languages that weren't considered "real" languages like the (white) "civilised" languages of Greek, Latin, and (later) other European languages. These days, it has a distinct meaning in linguistics - a (usually geographic) division between varieties within the same language (so e.g. Yorkshire English and London English could both be called dialects of English), but the person in the video doesn't seem to be contrasting the variety in question with other dialects of a given language, so I can only assume they're using it in the historically racist way, which is definitely uncomfortable to come across.

the origin of the letter 🇦

(from the documentary The Odyssey of the Writing, 2020)

[ccscocoapuffs]

Roman Reigns NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Loves to pull you into to his arms and and lay your head against his chest. He wants to lay with you for a bit and come down from your highs with skin to skin. He wants the feeling of being close to you after your most intimate moments before he will hop up and go get the water running for a much needed and deserved bath for you two.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Roman is 100% an ass guy, he loves to walk up behind you and smack it before just chuckling and walking away or leaning into your neck and leaving soft little kisses there to tease you. He also loves walking with his arm around your waist and having his hand resting on your ass. His favorite body part on himself is probably his arms, I mean come on look at the man, he has fucking muscles for days. He loves them though cause it allows him to pick you and throw you over his shoulder while he carries you to the bedroom.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He loves cumming on your face, tits, and inside the most. If he has alot of energy still built up after a match be prepared to be covered in him, he loves making a mess out of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Jealous ass fucker, though he secretly loves when you try to make him jealous intentionally, cause he knows he gets to put you in your place and make you remember exact who fucks you the best. (Brat tamer energy *wink wink*

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Very well experienced and understanding of sex. He is fully aware on how to make a woman have a mind blowing orgasm but he is also aware of the fact every woman can be different in the bedroom. He uses his knowledge and adapts to your likes and dislikes to insure that you're completely fucked out by the time he's done with you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) He definitely likes setting you on his lap and making you ride him knowing very well that after a minute you'll be begging him to fuck you. His all time favorite though is "The Seashell", he loves the aspect of the deeper penetration that comes with it and he loves fucking folding your ass when he fucks you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous?) Roman is for sure on the serious side of things. He wants the time you two share together to be hot, kinky, and sexy. Hence why he fees being goofy can kinda ruin that feeling.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Roman has thick black hair that he tends to keep trimmed down enough to remain in a manner he deems presentable. He likes to leave enough so that when he fucks your face you choke on the hair just slightly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Roman can be very intimate, he cares about you more than anything in this world. He definitely shows that in his actions throughout the day as well as in the bedroom. Though don't let his romantic heart fool you, he is a hard dom and isn't afraid of having to punish you for bratty behavior.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) As a punishment for you being a brat he will cuff you to your bed and make you watch him get off. Right before he cums he'll walk over to you and spill himself over your stomach or chest just to tease you even more. He will look you in the eyes and say something along the lines of "I bet you wanna touch it, huh? if only you could fucking behave then it would be buried in that wet pussy right now"

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Spanking Choking Slight bondage such as tying you to the bed and such Slight Spit kink Daddy Kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) He doesn't have a preference on where to have sex but if he had to pick a favorite he would say the shower. He loves pushing you up against the wall being surround by the steam it makes it seem more sensual to him in the moment.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Roman is turned on by you and your confidence. He likes when you aren't afraid to show that you belong to the head of the table himself. Walk up to him while he's handling bloodline business and just sit down on his lap, let all of the bloodline and wwe roster know exactly who you belong to.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Roman won't share you, he likes keeping the things that are his strictly to himself you included.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He is a god at giving, he loves over stimming you with his mouth alone. If you want to give him a blowjob then he is gonna make you worship his cock. He also loves to fuck your face on occasion.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Roman loves a faster and rough pace but he will start slower, he likes being able to pound into you deeply ad make sure he hits every spot before absolutely rearranging your guts.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) He is always down for a quickie, I kinda feel as though roman wouldn't care about getting caught so if you two happen to be walked in on during one of these quickies, he for sure will tell you just keep going while yelling at the other person to get out.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Roman loves to experiment with you, he likes being risky cause he finds alot of excitement there. One of the risks he would take is making you wear a remote controlled vibrator to dinner with all of the bloodline.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He can for sure atleast go 3 rounds, 9 times out of 10 you won't be able to walk when he is finally done with you. He loves being able to have longer times being intimate with you though.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Yes he owns a few toys for you. His favorite would for sure be the remote controlled vibrator or the grinders. He loves setting one of the grinders on his thigh an then setting you on top of it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He is a BIG big tease, without a doubt. He loves to tease you to the point of you begging and whining to him to stop and just fuck you. It lowkey strokes his ego.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Definitely dirty talks alot as well as very deep and rough groans. If you tease him he lowkey will almost growl in your ear to let you know he ain't playing with you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) If you wanna be the ultimate brat and earn yourself the biggest fucking punishment in the world. Pull his hair. See what happens.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Roman is about 8 inches in length and has a VERY thick girth. No matter what you'll be able to feel him stretch you out every time.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Relatively high, though it depends on his mood. If he is frustrated from Bloodline stuff then it is for sure alot higher because he needs to take out that frustration.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He usually will wait till you fall asleep. He likes to make sure that you're well taken care of and resting before he pulls you even closer and kisses the top of your head while he drifts to sleep.

[poorlydrawninstarsandtime]

favorite word?

(bonnie's actual favorite words are "mango" and "punch")

[id in alt]

[blogquantumreality]

It's kind of fascinating how this Etruscan mediation of the Western Greek alphabet in the development of the Roman alphabet was influenced by certain features of the Etruscan language, as elaborated in these videos I watched (co-hosted by Drs. Jackson Crawford and Luke Gorton):

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

fucked up that the etruscans spoke a language totally unrelated to any modern language, but the latin alphabet descends through the etruscan alphabet, so still linguistically influenced like most writing on the planet

[joannasteez]

nsfw alphabet | romans reigns

pairing: roman reigns x black reader

warning/authors note: self explanatory. explicit content below! minors please do not interact. i been wanting to do one of these for a little minute so here it us.

(A) AFTERCARE

the throb in your spine is sweet. but it is torture. it aches. takes the course of your muscles, leaving you limp and short breathed. dragging moans pass into whimpers, the split of your ears and that wayward blur of vision taking you fast. he was good, too much even, making a mess of you to please his own needs. an insatiable desire to see you broken and undone. he loved you, a natural dedication to you like the sun to it's sky, but he loved to wreck you just as easily. pull you to pieces just to build you whole again. 

so he holds you close, like a soft mold against the wide build of him. a tender grip of hands and light kisses to your pulse that will away those harsh thumps of blood. he kneads and caresses. slots the wet of his tongue till its between your lips, taking you in for a tender kiss. whispers delicate into your skin, sweet nothings, that sound like everything. "so beautiful". fingers warms. soothing. "feeling so good on me". his mouth lazy and loving. "you were made for me". 

and you preen, nudge your nose to his and wrap your legs tighter. maybe in the hope to stick to him. 

(B) BODY PART

theres always a favorite, but whats more important is the occasion. for his more amorous needs, when his skin grows skittish and hot. fingers flexing with need, twitching at nothing in the hopes to touch you soon, he will absolutely bring his mouth to your breast. squeeze and pinch and groan till he's had his fill. flick and roll his tongue at the hard of your nipples, messy drips of his spit slipping down past his mouth. and he groans. takes his time and feels you tremble in his lap, breath hitching as you grind at him for some form of friction. 

but when he isn't that needy, struck by lust. his favorite part of your body is your neck. it's where his lips go, if not at your lips, they trail the skin there at your neck. at home, at gatherings. quick pecks and lingerings kisses. it's intimate and possessive. 

(C) CUM

roman had resolved himself early on to the idea that, if he was gonna come undone anywhere, that it'd always be inside you. the tight mess of your heat too incredible to ignore or forsake. he'd groan, something strangled and rugged, hips rutting wild and ill controlled, and when he was ready, he'd pull from the softness of you slow and watch his spend drip lazy.

but you'd changed his mind. or rather, you'd given him a different perspective. in some summer country villa in the dead of the night, surrounded by melted candles and the lulling scent of lavender. you'd been particularly fired up and demanding. "kneel", you'd told him, and without much fight he'd dipped his tongue through your slit. committing the taste of your clit to memory. every moan you made hardening him till his dick ached from the faintest touch. but he worked you good, pleased you, and when he was through, you took him, hot and stiff in your hand and ran him through the soaked mess of your pussy. and there he stayed. rutting and groaning, till his speed and control broke to nothing and he came there. just at your clit. chest rising and falling deep. 

your fingers rubbed and teased his cum at your slit, arching and spreading as he watched. he felt the possession in it, a silent claim that you were his. 

(D) DIRTY SECRET

you're a charming woman. you make people smile. so when the guys on the roster meet you, it's no question that their hand shakes come with a brighter smile, something more genuine than before. and their eyes linger a little longer when they think roman isn't looking. "i like your shoes", but its really your legs. "i like your dress", but it's really your figure. "you look nice today", but they'd rather say beautiful, their eyes flitting to your lips. 

but he hates that part of him would like to watch. he would like to see you with someone else, only to have you after, and have them realize that the difference is jarring. they'd pale in comparison, because you were made for him, or rather that's what he'd like to believe. it's all voyeurism for prides sake, a simple means for his ego to swell. so he keeps that tucked away from you, in the deepest parts of him. where the control of it is strong and true.

(E) EXPERIENCE 

its not about how experienced he is but more of what the experience is like being with him. his in ring persona is manipulative and domineering and a lot of an asshole. he takes pieces of all those things and sprinkles them throughout the loving ways he takes care of you. teases and controls the pace, between kisses. whispers of sweet nothings in between taunts that leave you desperate for more of him. when he grunts, and urges you to "take it". when his hips grind and an awfully harsh beat moves his heart at the dazed sight of you. "my good girl", he'll say in praise. and "i love you", when your eyes take his own in a deep stare. 

but sometimes the tribal chief bleeds into his eyes, suffers the softer parts of him to quiet and he becomes merciless, even in his mercy. tosses and pulls at your body to have you exactly where he wants you and when you spasm hard and soak his skin and sheets a sodden mess he scoffs. feigning disgust as you spurt wet and unrestrained. narrowing his eyes at the shivers your body takes, your voice small and sobbing. begging. “im sorry”, you cry, thighs wet from the seemingly endless onslaught of him. feeling him press into the arch of you back. his knee bending for a better angle. a more brutal pace. he sneers in a taunting manner, reveling in the weight of his power. “no, no youre not. you love coming for me”, his breath heavy. “so fucking needy”.

it's an intense experience.

(F) FAVORITE POSITION

missionary, missionary, missionary. with your legs bent to your chest, spread and aching. well yes, of course. BUT. those lazy days, afternoons, nights, whenever they are, moments on the couch still. when the lights are low and the breeze is a little more than just chilly. you find your self hot, skin damp, nothing more than moans and a mess of whimpers, hips taking a slow ride atop him. the pace lax, his lips sticky from the filthy roll of your tongue. "take your time sweetheart", his palms spread and caressing at your hips. working through the ache. "get what you need", soft and sure. "fuck me till you come" as his hips push upward, a tender nudge into the clutch of your slick heat. hot and hard and patient for you. 

(G) GOOFY

playful during? not so much. maybe when you both have had a drink or two. not drunk but buzzed, and you're not so steady. not as poised and put together. a little clumsy and falling over him. he's kissing your skin, leading with tongue and ending with painless nips of his teeth. you giggle and squirm, and he tries to get you to still. to concentrate, but you giggle more. more and more and it makes this big burly man atop you snort. a cute silly little moment before you're kissing him and asking him to take you slowly. 

(H) HAIR

yes yes yes, he trims. not enough to be bare but its clean. it looks kept, but who gives a fuck about that when he's got a head of hair like he does. its this raven black color almost. inky and long. sticking to his skin, falling over his eyes and at the soft line of his lips. it whips up when his head nudges hard, slick at his back threatening to fall over once more as he pushes his tongue to taste the inner warmth of your thighs. your fingers pulling through it to urge him. his hair is always soft. like fine silk running through your palm. and when you rough at the root, pleading, enough to give him a firm guide to where you need him most, he grunts and waits for another tough short pull because he's such a damn tease. and sometimes when need overtakes the natural authority of him, his hair will get messy, splay out and over till its everywhere, fluffy and kind of damp, as he kisses you with sticky wet lips. sloppy and full of breath. his tongue drunk and his eyes threatening to roll. he clings to you like his own strands of hair. utterly addicted.

(I) INTIMACY

the feeling was an odd one, something new and less known to him. this breaking in his bones, in the wide stretch of muscle, where strength holds fast and his resolve proves unbendable. its a tension in him that splits even till it grows raw to the touch. every one of your kisses making him shiver till groans push hard from his chest without restraint. his spine throbs and in the deep parts of his ears resound this heavy pulsing. his nape shivers at your touches there, delicate and tender. your skin soft and sweet to the tough build of him. you hum and purr, a moan and a kiss, his hips slow to move but persistent for the tight vice of you. he breathes heavy, warm. cursing the ache in his gut for the way it coils and burns unashamed. his eyes watered with yours, welling till a tear slips free. "tell me again", roman pleads. his fingers nailing into the sheets, the brown of his eyes earthy and sincere. "tell me please". and the seam of your lips play along his, sharing his breaths, the pound of his heart rolling into your chest. your arms about him, clinging desperate to savor. his forehead rests against yours and you whisper amongst the silence. "i love you". 

(J) JACK OFF

its a mixture of preference and occasion. alone and needy, he’ll conjure up the filthiest fantasy. your body, your skin, the wet take of your lips and the tender claw in of your nails to him. lines drawn from broad shoulders to the slim curve in of his waist. begging with tears, with short faint breath. please please please, you’d beg. his wrist stiff and his palm tight as he strokes hard, trying to replicate the shape of you. somehow soft and unrelenting all the same, powerful enough to bring him to his knees. and when the dream is vivid enough, the blur of his imagination coming into something defined, he can almost feel you. and just there, amongst the rain of a shower, he’ll come. groans broken and stuttered in their escape.

but it isn’t always like this, left by himself to work through the tension mounting in his bones. sometimes the air is more sultry, more sensual than the emptiness of white bathroom tiled walls and warm prickling water. sometimes he’ll melt into your touch, into the leather of the sofa. he’ll whimper and curse, breathy and fighting for patience, finding himself undone and ill suited to do anything but beg for you to be near him. and you’ll kiss the skin behind his ear, trail lazy and seductive till you take his neck as a place to taste. to lick and suck, teeth nipping to tease. and your hand goes strict, this steady wringing of your wrist that coax’s his hips to lift, chasing the feeling. he huffs, struggles to fight the unraveling that awaits him, breath hot and delicate as he nudges into your neck. lips attempting to kiss, to gain some form of control, but he grasps at nothing, left dazed in his own desperation. he mumbles, incoherent.

“fuck i-“

“please”

“oh-ah…shit”

every muscle in him tenses, a stillness where his breath hitches, before his nerves rattle wild. he drags through a groan, chest pulling in and pushing out, breath after breath as he comes.

(K) KINK

say it with me. overstimulation. roman, within the boundaries that have been set, is menacing. he schemes, he plots. he thinks methodically, and he acts out his ideas in ways that you have only ever briefly dreamed of because trust is a scary thing to give. he'd of course only step as far as you'd let him, but roman was a big man, and so the distances he could cover were more than enough to meet your every desire. and he took to ropes easily, their weight, the strength of a knot as it wrapped about your skin, tight but not too much. the supple inner flesh of your thighs bare and bound, your pussy dripping with anticipation as darkness loomed. the tie around your eyes silky and assuring. you could feel him staring, a grand statuesque form roaming about the room as you laid spread and shallow breathed. 

the bed dipped and you fought against the pounding in your chest, begging for it to still with shudders. the seconds drawn slow into minutes. 

his mouth this gentle skim above yours, tongue slipping to run faint. "breathe babygirl". 

you chase the phantom of his lips for something. a kiss, his tongue, anything. he chuckles dark, a rumbling from his chest that leaves you eager. 

"you trust me?", he asks. fingers running in a clever maneuver toward where you ache for him. his thumb a sweet delicate caress at the pulse of your clit. 

you body melts into the bed, back arching as your hips buck for friction. "ahh", the length of his middle and ring finger burying deep till they cover wet to the knuckle. "oh fuck me, i need-"

"not yet", he cuts. his fingers resting idle in you. letting you throb and pulse. letting you feel and rest in the depth of his touch. 

(L) LOCATION

let's set the scene shall we?...steam, a thick cloud. water raining with a prickling heat. the cascade of it stressing a warmth into your skin, but nothing that beats the heat of him. the tower of his body, taut and statuesque. he's all muscle and power, the pull and push of his hips is vicious and beautiful. languid and tormenting. his mouth drapes your neck, trails lazy till his nose nudges into wet hair. curses and groans deep, melodic. he ruts singleminded, the heart of his pleasure stored in the devious clench of your pussy. his breaths draw in, they release, they shudder, waver with weakness, drag and go broken, all done by the tight slick dripping between your legs. flowing till it trickles along the shower floor. 

and he likes the echo here. the bounce of your moans from tile to tile, till it finds itself slipping clever into his ear. the shower differs from the bed, calls for something possessive and raw. the space doesn't open the way it would in his bed. here he stills your body, holds your hips and wills into your flesh the need to trust him. to trust the hold he has on your body.

your hand trembles, dainty and desperate. pulls his fingers till his palm rest just at the soft of your mound. you groan, weak and dazed. eyes threatening to roll. 

"how's that sweetheart? you like me there? you like me stretchin' that pussy?" 

a tear wells. your voice small. "yes".

(M) MOTIVATON

let's revisit his dirty secret, that slight voyeuristic streak in him that wonders about you with other people. and though he, in the deeper, more quiet parts of him, likes to fantasize about it, what gets his blood going more than knowing they wouldn't hold a candle to him, is the subtle and not so subtle ways you reject these advances. you feel the stares and the lingering touches, the charming smiles and the eagerness for small talk. and you indulge to a degree; coy grins, little intimate laughs where your hand takes to a strong arm that isn't roman's and that slight head tilt to the side as a whisper flows to your ear like some little hushed secret. 

and these little events are all the same. wrestlers in a room, drinking and eating, chatting about everything and anything. 

it's a little easy to slip into a few drinks, to get comfortable. sometimes overly comfortable. and while it doesn't always happen, there are moments where the air pushes beyond flirty into something more solid and the veil is lifted. you pull back, feeling roman's eyes turn cold, because the game is only fun for you when he's playing too. 

"whats one more drink?", someone from the roster will ask. completely taken by your charm. a hand attempting to reach for the lower dip-in of your back to guide you to the bar. "one too many", a soft smile. quick and naturally small about your movements as you slip away from them  and back over to roman before anything else can transpire. 

"having fun?", he'll ask. 

"not anymore", a gentle pout. standing under the burden of his eyes. the grip of his hand at your waist a little more firm than usual. trying against his will to calm. 

he hates to love this little game. 

"we gotta fix that". 

but the fix is a blunt stroke of his hips. hot fingers and an even hotter release. it's this odd chain reaction of waiting and watching, till the possession in him unfurls broad and stifling. his palms twitch and his nose flares. you could have anyone and anything you wanted, this he knew for sure, but you were here with him. choking on the heaviness of a moan as he fucked rough into you against the sink of a bathroom. 

"he'd never have you, none of them would. not like this, so desperate and ready to come".

pride blooming in his chest, the soft warm pull of your heat greedy and unsatisfied as you drip against him. 

(N) NO

roman won't do anything non-consensual based, and nothing that could directly compromise his hygiene or yours. he's all about trust and a shared experience, and if anything goes against that, he won't even consider it. 

(O) ORAL

curtains sweep, flowing delicate. a soft glow taking to your skin as they sway, working to tame the harsh rush in of the morning sun. and the view from where he stands is picturesque. the drape of you against the sheets reminiscent of beloved paintings of old, far too fine and intricate to be handled. but here, he gets to touch you, form the heat of his hands to tender skin. and of course roman aims to be gentle. aims to caress light, to enjoy the feel of you without such harsh rushes of desperation. and he does it well, molds his lips to you unhurried, patient, there at your neck, the smooth plain of your shoulders, till they grow deep and lingering, teasing where your collarbone lives. 

you shift awake, moaning with a drunken sort of awareness. tethered some still to sleep. your fingers roaming the wide stretch of his back. taut muscle and warm skin.

roman finds himself nestling in at where heat runs just at your inner thighs. so close to where you begin to yearn for him.

the steadiness of his patience feeling to you more and more like teasing. 

his tongue licks warm and simple. riles up the rest of your nerves that dare still to sleep. and his lips move, in tandem with deft fingers. panties pulling over and away to make room for the heavy heat of his breath. 

he’s just there, looming over the throb of your clit. eyes lazy and growing fascinated at the way you clench and release about nothing but the anticipation of his touch. 

the tip of his nose leads the seam of his lips as they ghost and when he speaks, your hips chase that faint soft bed of his mouth. hungry for him. 

“i had a dream about you”, he muses. suckling the skin where your inner thigh bends. 

your voice breaks off the remnants of sleep. tone coarse but still to him so damn sweet. “yeah? about what?”

“doesn’t matter”, he hums. a wet gentle strike of his tongue at the tip of your clit. testing the reflex of your hips, a satisfied grin as he watches your hips roll and arousal pool. “you being there was enough” 

you chuckle. hissing as his thumbs spread your wider, angling to push in and trap your clit. the nub pulses, forces an arch to form just at your back. 

“you love to sweet talk”. words breathy. 

“you love to hear it”.’

“roman…”, you urge. pleading his name. 

he hums. “you ever known me not to take care of u?”

“no”. 

“then relax for me”. command gentle and restraining. 

his thumbs move, circling firm. but you need more. 

he's touched you, but barely, not in the way's you've at many times known him to, when the air is heavy, your body's clinging and rutting one against the other, senseless and wild. in those times, the urgency takes him and possesses him with a more vicious sort of passion. storming with impatience. but his time here though, as he skims your skin and takes delight in the heavy bursts of breath from your chest, whiny and incapable of waiting, is endless. 

and his restraint has much reason, if nothing more than to see you weak and undone. his kisses sweet at the light quiver taking your thighs, and the soft slipping lick he takes at the fat of clit. a steady downward stroke, moving to reach at the wet clench of your entrance, till he curls lazy, drooling with thirst, adding to the mess of you. 

oh his restraint has much reason, mouth working till it covers over the whole of your lower lips, roman's hands like nails as they push to suffer your thighs under their weight. anything to spread you further, to get himself deeper into the taste of you. tongue prodding till it dips through to where you drip and throb, muscles clenching, begging for a stretch and to feel the fullness it knows he can give it.

he slurps obnoxious, your taste steeping in till it soaks his mouth. forces something raw out of his chest, a lax groan that rattles your bones. 

and he holds there, suckling till he feels you grow weak into the bed. whimpers that break off fragile. 

his touch, where ever it finds itself, is all passion. every flick and caress, every roll and kiss and tensing bite, every moan and every second he takes to please you is this raw form of devotion. a wordless sort of reverence that is singleminded in its plot to draw from you the finest pleasure. 

(P) PACE

he's an all around type of guy, and the pace varies upon his mood, but you can always tell what you'll get before he even touches you. when those coffee brown eyes twinkle in their mischief, and his touch pours hot into your skin, you know he'll tease you till your nerves stress and your voice breaks with begging. the dip and roll of his hips shallow and unfulfilling. almost like he can't stand to see you happy and satisfied, and you hate to love him then. his taunting words and the amusement in his eyes, high off control.

but sometimes he reads more vicious. his touch is the harsh piercing of a nail and his hips knock into you rough as they see to your undoing. he spreads you wide and grows relentless, ego fed by the writhing of your body and the limp form your moans take. his pace is brutal then, stills your hips to dig into you till he's buried to the hilt. 

and other times a softness overtakes him, washes him whole and drives him to the utmost gentleness. his ministrations grow tenderly deft, hips steady and patient. he takes the time to feel you, every short twitch and the lingering way you cling and pull at him, coaxes him deeper till you've taken every part of him. 

(Q) QUICKIE

if he doesn't have to have a quickie he won't, but life doesn't work that way and sometimes, when the pull in his gut is far too harsh to ignore, he'll pull you aside and make quick work of sharing that neediness, till you're attacking him quick and breathy, kissing his lips wet and hasty. his hips rutting, sweat breaking at his skin, his forehead nestled into your neck as he chases that heavy pulling in his gut and the burn in his flesh that comes with release. 

(R) RISK

he's not as much of a risk taker as he'd maybe like to be. he's very much all about his image and staying negative press free. and you of course respect his wishes, but there are times where he will indulge your riskiness, at private events mainly, where cameras are more than likely non-existent. 

(S) STAMINA 

his restraint will more than likely dictate this in a way. if he's hard pressed to release the tension in his bones, he makes quick good work of taking care of you before he does so for himself, and sometimes that can look a little quicker than usual but other times, more often than not, the pleasure can feel endless, with these short bouts of reprieve, right before he's back to doling out pleasure. 

(T) TOYS

the voyeur in him can't hate your use of toys and you are more than proficient at pleasing yourself. can you bring yourself to a hair pulling release, completely breathless and ears split as you feel the undoing of your nerves, maybe not as intensely, but thats where he comes in. he's all about the collaboration, anything to see you twitch and quiver uncontrolled, to have you begging and pleading his name. 

(U) UNFAIR 

he's the BIGGEST TEASE, and definitely has more moments of unfairness than you do. he mocks you, denies you sometimes even, and when he's in a less generous mood, all in the name of seeing you squirm, he'll even downright ignore your advances. 

(V) VOLUME 

the volume is something that is shared more equally than not, neither of you more louder than the other. the both of you falling into your moments where words and noises are unabashed in how loud they can be. but it's never insanely loud. theres been a time or two though, at a hotel maybe, where a knock comes about a complaint. 

(W) WILDCARD  "do you trust me?" you'd asked him. 

"yes", without hesitation. 

and the rope wrapped tight about his skin was beautiful, something quite more artistic than you'd expected. his muscles bulging against the taut knots and tawny twine. his hair hanging long and damp, stray pieces sticking to him as his skin grew red with desire. his thighs spread and restrained, dick aching and standing stiff. in need of much attention. but you were not in the service of pleasing him. no you were very much enjoying the tremble in his body, the desperate way he chased your lips, and the lazy pass of his eyes as they took to the tight lace painting your skin. 

you lean in, bowing forward, your nails resting at his thighs, lips running to ghost the seam of his. tongue escaping to lick a less than faint strip. and he rumbles, cock twitching, his chest rising the more you tease his mouth. 

"you're so good. so obedient". 

your hand itches to touch him, fingers delicate and controlled as you take his warm length to caress light. and he accepts what friction he can get, his head lulling back, hair swaying, a groan flowing as your touch becomes slightly more firm. his hips rut forward, and then your touch disappears. a frown taking your lips in confusion. you'd thought you'd made yourself rather clear.

"if you can't control your urges, then maybe you don't deserve to come". 

" 'm sorry", the loom of your figure leaving him, and it nearly leaves him ill. "fuck, i'm sorry". 

you hum, thumb reaching to sooth at his cheek. the only touch you can afford to give him as you watch him suffer. 

(X) X-RAY

you could say so many things, but to put it short and sweet, he's above average, but not incredibly big. he's thick, veiny, and a bit curved. just enough to slightly knock the wind out of you. to have you feeling full. 

(Z) ZZZ

he'll fall fast asleep rather quickly. after he's sought to your needs, he'll pull your body in close to share the heat of him, shape the silhouette of you with his warmth and allow sleep to take him. and other times, when you're last to sleep, roaming around till your restlessness is no more, you'll wrap an arm around his waist, attempting at a big spoon, but it's no use of course. and he'll remedy that by turning over in his daze, a soothing drag of a hum sounding from him as he's pulling you to his chest. effectively turning him into a body pillow.

[glyptolite]

While at a museum I took a picture of something that would look good on this blog. I must've assumed I'd remember what it was.

[sforzesco]

lucullus: you know what. this doesn't concern me.

After this [Crassus] collected sailing vessels, crossed into Africa, and joined Metellus Pius, an illustrious man, who had got together a considerable army. However, he remained there no long time, but after dissension with Metellus set out and joined Sulla.

-Plutarch, Crassus

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / tip jar!

[kaontic]

Some Reflector art cuz I think he’s super cute (def wanna draw more of him). OwO

Despite the fact that he’s a lil’ snitch along with the microcassette recorder.

[Reflector: You’ve just been censored. ⬆️]

Bruh shoo! *Gently waves him away*

This is an unbiased Decepticon news blog, duh.

Not really lol. I love Autobots too I promise. Shout out to [REDACTED].

Anyways, don’t they make for great intelligence officers? :)

Well along with Nightbird, Shadow, and some others but those are different stories hehe.

Also I thought of this idea that he could have these advanced metal “straps” (which come out of his alt mode like measuring tape), that basically act as his “arms”.

You know, for purposes of *checks script* “improved accessibility”.

Thanks Shockwave.

I mean it’s all fun and games until he [REDACTED] or [REDACTED] someone—cuz those ends are sharp.

Just think Ming-Hua and Lin Beifong from LOK…and potentially Lucy from Elfen Lied.

Emphasis on the “potentially”. O_O📷

Okay, into your new studio apartment (time out box) you go- 😅📷 🧰

Update: *On the floor* Ow…

Never thought I’d get my ass beat by a camera but here we are lol.

He’s a spicy little guy, but we love him here. :)

[chalkrub]

demons from last year i've been revisiting recently

[uwmspeccoll]

It’s Fine Press Friday!

In the spirit of Christmas’s arrival in three days, we present a small Christmas-themed book entitled An Alphabet of Christmas Words, published in 1966. The book is a dictionary of holiday terms, with corresponding illustrations. Entries were selected and edited from the Oxford English Dictionary by American writer Helen McKelvey Oakley (1906-2003), who explains that her “interest [in this project] lies in seeing how The Dictionary treats [each term].” The accompanying illustrations are by Ursula Suess (b. 1924), a graphic designer, calligrapher, and artist. Most recently, her art was shown in a 2022 solo exhibition at the Tubac Center of the Arts in Tubac, Arizona.

An Alphabet of Christmas Words was offset printed in Times Roman on Mohawk Superfine Text paper by Hallmark Lithographers Inc. in an edition of 360 copies, published by the Oxford University Press and designed by Ursula Suess and the press's art director and vice president John Begg (1903-1974). Also included with this book are two small season’s greetings cards from the press; one has Begg’s name printed on it and the other has “from Ursel and Mutti” inscribed in black ink.

View more Fine Press Friday Posts.

– Sarah S., Special Collections Graduate Intern