#wallpapers reign

[prplocks]

✧❁ wallpaper 〴 anne popplewell ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

reblog if you save ➳

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[artofthering]

[wwefont]

two (2) lockscreens of the shield. like/reblog if you save. DON’T REPOST. wwefont’s requests are open. follow our blog for more.

[jazzy-tzw]

Dont know if you want them, but here some that came out better with camera(and filters). I was out of control, it happens to me every time lmao

You took these?? These are so beautiful!!!

[wrestlingeditsheaven]

@ava-valerie

[aziiiz810]

Roman Reigns ⚡️🔴

[lushxboba]

The Emperors Prize

Emperor Geta X Peasant!Reader

Word Count: 2k

TW// 18+ ONLY (minors be gone), mentions of family members death, mentions of murder, spitting, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, thigh riding, if i missed anything let me know !!

A/N: i haven’t written in months so be gentle with me pls 🙏🏽

It’d been the longest year of your life. Ever since Emperor Geta took over after his father died, your whole life had been turned upside down. Your father died the year prior, finally succumbing to his disease after being refused medical care by the kingdom. And your brother was left to do the only thing he felt was right to take care of your family. Train to be a gladiator. Perform in front of the Emperor and all of Rome to fight for his families survival. Only to not survive himself. Leaving you to take care of your little sister and sickly mother all to yourself.

Of course you blamed the only person you felt was responsible. Geta. He killed your father. He killed your brother. You wouldn’t let him take the last of what you had. So you did what you needed to survive, and stayed far away from his tyrants.

You’d heard of his army walking the markets day to day, blending in with the rest of peasants just to try and find someone stealing. They would take them to the temple and cut their hands off, cut their tongue out, maybe even behead them then and there. But you were smarter than those people. And faster. You had to be.

Before your father died, he always told you that your speed would be your superpower to survive Getas reign. You’d never have to face the torment of being in the arena and using your strength against your neighbors, but you could use your speed against his tyrants.

You spent days running in the slums, back and forth until you couldn’t breathe again. Or until you felt like you could’ve lost them. You knew you were ready for anything. Considering you did steal food to survive, you had to be.

You never thought you’d get caught. You’d been doing it for months now, and it seemed that only the elderly were the ones being dragged back to the kingdom. Call it population control if you will. But your time was surely coming to an end, and you could feel it.

You took your weekly walk down to the market, keeping your hood up and frequently looking out for suspicious vendors and customers. You’d seen people dragged away enough to know what they’d look like. They weren’t very good at disguising themselves. To you at least.

You tried to go to different stands each week so they wouldn’t catch on to you. You found a nice fruit stand with more colorful berries than you’d ever seen in your life.

You approached the stand as you practiced your distraction tactic in your head. You took a look around the stand, asking the man about how much he gets each week to sell, making him turn around to look in his inventory, giving you the perfect chance to quickly shove pints and pints of fruit in your bag.

Before he could turn back around, you were gone. Quickly walking through the market fast enough to be out of his eyesight but not fast enough to cause a scene.

You’d made it halfway down the road, just long enough to think you’d gotten away with it until you felt two pairs of hands gripping on each of your arms tightly.

“Little girl thought she got away, huh?” A deep voice husks behind your ear. You don’t fight it. No point in fighting when they’ve already made up their mind. And they are clearly much stronger than you.

You just roll your eyes as you let them walk you towards the kingdom. You can feel the eyes of everyone on you as they practically carry you towards the kingdom, but you pay them no mind. Your father always told you there was no reason to fight.

Once you reach the castle, the anger in you bubbles more and more. Knowing two people you loved died here made you want to rip the ugly brown wallpaper off of the walls and break down the pillars.

The men carry you up the steps to a large room bolted down with a big gold chain. You don’t even bother being nervous or anxious about what’s behind that door. You know your fate is decided the second your name is mentioned to the emperor.

One of the men unlock the chain while the other holds your arm even tighter. You’ve made no signs of struggle so you don’t exactly understand why they have to bruise your arm in the process. The door opens to reveal a long hallway, covered with a red and gold carpet leading to a throne. You’d recognize that throne anywhere. Along with the man who sits on it.

The walk down the runway seems like hours, as the man you despise most in this world stares you down with his wide brown eyes.

“You’re dismissed.” He says in a dark tone. The two men let go of your arms and bow before Geta before turning and leaving the room. Bolting the door down once again behind you.

“Most people bow when they see me.” He says, his legs and arms spread comfortably on the soft throne paid for by his slaves.

“I’m not most people.” You stand tall in front of him, keeping eye contact. “...your highness.” You smirk before playfully bending your knee and bowing in front of him.

Geta scoffs before standing up from his throne, slowly making his way towards you. “You look familiar.” His breath lingers down your skin as he circles around your body, his arms behind his back.

“You killed my father… and my brother.” You can see the gears click in his mind as he stops right in front of you. He places his hand roughly under your chin making you shiver. He forcefully turns your head both ways before nodding. “Caius’ daughter. How could I forget those innocent eyes?”

Your breathing gets heavier as you remember everything this man has put your family through. You spit on his cheek, making him quickly shuffle back. He chuckles under his breath, looking up at you as he wipes your saliva off of his face. “I should have you hung for that alone.”

“You’re going to kill me anyways. What else do I have to lose?” You get down on your knees, placing your hands behind your back as you ready yourself for the knife that is knowingly going to come to your neck.

“Who ever said anything about killing you? I surely didn’t.” He steps closer to you, leaning down to place his hand under your chin once again, this time softer. “Who could kill such a pretty little whore like you?” He lifts your head up to look at him, smirking as your eyes meet his once again.

He roughly pushed your head away as he steps back, slowly untying his robe. “I’ve already done enough damage to you, don’t you think?” He smirks, dropping his robe to reveal his extremely toned naked body. His cock jumps up to his stomach in anticipation, and as much as you hate him, you can’t take your eyes off of it. “In return for letting you live, I say you do a little something for me, don’t you think?” He spits in his hand, moving it down to stroke his cock as you watch on your knees. “You’re already in the position… it’s only fair.”

He moves back to his throne, sitting with his legs spread as he continues to stroke himself. Your mouth salivates at the image alone. You get up from your knees, slowly walking towards him until you’re standing in between his legs.

“I’d rather die than do anything to serve you.” You spit on him once again. Before you can turn around, he grabs you by the wrists and pulls you down on to your knees, holding your hair in one hand so you can’t move.

“This wasn’t an option.” He grabs his cock with his other hand, tapping it on your cheek before roughly shoving it into your mouth. You can’t help but moan the second you taste his salty seed lingering out the tip. “The good girl likes it, too.” He chuckles.

You look up at him with fire in your eyes, slowly bobbing your head up and down his hard member. You keep your arms behind your back and let him take control. That is all he wants after all. You watch as he throws his back in pleasure, moaning loud enough you’re sure the rest of the kingdom can hear you.

He grips your hair tighter with each movement of your mouth, pulling you every which way he wants you to go. “Your mouth is so wet and tight. Can’t wait to see what that perfect cunt feels like.”

You quickly pull off of him, removing one of your hands from your back to stroke him. “You never said anything about fucking me.”

“Oh, but I just did.” He smirks, leaning down to grab your hips and pull you into his lap. “You thought you were going to get away without me feeling your cunt wrapped around my cock?” He grinds into you, his hands roaming up and down your sides. You can’t help but to grind with him, moaning into his hair as he attaches his mouth to your neck.

His hand reaches down to lift up your skirt, revealing no underwear underneath. He moans into your neck as his fingers trace along your wet slit. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him closer to you as you grind your pussy along his hand.

You reach down to palm his cock, making him moan even louder if that was possible. “Need to feel you already.” He whines as he pulls your shirt up, his mouth immediately sucking on your nipples.

You grab his cock and run the tip along your slit, smirking as you tease him. “Never thought I’d have the Emperor of Rome begging me to fuck him.” You laugh, still riding the tip of his cock.

He growls, grabbing his cock and quickly thrusting up into you. You gasp loudly, gripping his neck tighter than before. He wraps his arms around your back, thrusting into you hard. You match his movements with the bounce of your own hips, leaving both of you a moaning mess.

You can feel your own arousal leaking out and coating both of your thighs. The sounds emitting from this room were obscene, and you just hoped the Gods would forgive you.

You roll your hips faster against him as you feel the familiar coil burn in your stomach quickly. His cock twitches inside of you, making your ego bigger than it already was coming into this room.

“You’re going to cum.” You say breathily, gripping him by his hair to make him look at you. He doesn’t say anything. Just looks in your eyes with his mouth open as he thrusts into you one last time. His hands grip your hips tightly as you feel him dripping out of you. The feeling is enough to make you shake as you reach your own high.

You hold him by his hair tightly, your hips still slowly rolling against his as your both catch your breath. It doesn’t take long for him to remove you from his lap. He grips your hips and swiftly places you back on your feet.

“You may be dismissed now.” He says quietly, clearing his throat as he looks down at his feet.

“Nothing to clean me up at least?” You respond, looking at him even though he isn’t doing the same.

“You’re a peasant. You walk around dirty anyways.” He scoffs.

You walk close to him, lifting your skirt and placing a leg on either side of his thigh. You slide yourself down his thigh until it’s coated in your juices before hopping off.

You fix your skirt, smoothing it out as you smirk up at him. “Your highness.” You bow, pulling your skirt out each way before turning around and walking yourself out. Leaving Geta speechless… for now.

[nadvs]

I love love love this new au🥹 coming from a severely stressed Uni student could you write how rafe would take care of her when she’s studying too much barely eating or drinking and just really anxious for exams and stressed out.

aaa thank you angel 🥺 yes of course!! i hope you feel better soon!!

based on this fic

“…practice until five,” she hears.

“sorry, what?” she mumbles to rafe, her stare focused ahead.

her boyfriend gazes at her profile as they sit in his bedroom, watching a show on his flatscreen.

“my schedule next week,” he says. “you asked about it.”

“right,” she says. she meets his concerned blue eyes. “sorry. i was out of it again.”

she can feel herself retreating from reality all the time. finals are only a month away and she keeps catching herself zoning out out of lectures and conversations, spiralling into nerve-racking hypotheticals.

“did you eat today?” he asks.

“um… i think so?” she says.

“you’d remember if you did.”

rafe grabs his phone out from beneath the covers to order takeout. she looks at his screen, his wallpaper the photo of herself in his jersey that she’s seen so many times, and realizes it’s minutes away from eight p.m.

“fuck, it’s eight?” she says, scrambling out of bed. “i was supposed to go home to study like an hour ago.”

she grabs her things, staring at him with wide eyes, confused why he isn’t rushing to leave.

“you can drive me, right?” she asks.

“chill for a second,” he sighs. “what if you skipped it tonight? sleep here.”

“i can’t. i can barely sleep in my own bed,” she says. “i can barely sleep at all. if it’s a hassle to drive me, i can order a-”

“no.” rafe stands, relenting. he knows she’ll just argue if he pushes. “let’s go.”

“are you mad?” she asks.

“no,” he says.

“we don’t bullshit-”

“bullshit each other, i know,” he finishes her sentence. “i’m not mad.”

she trails him out of the room. even though he said he’s not mad, he’s acting like it.

rafe’s hands are tight on the steering wheel as he drives to her college campus through dark, busy streets. his girl’s been in her own world lately. every day, it gets worse.

he knows fighting will just stress her out more. he tries to encourage her to take breaks, but it seems to just make her spiral more.

he gets it. his mind gets tangled up, too. pressure can be a bitch. so, he bites his tongue for her sake. she’s the only person he cares enough to reign in his temper for.

“you’re really not mad?” she asks softly.

“i’m worried,” he admits.

she’s silent, staring out the window.

“it’s just finals,” she says. “i’ll be okay.”

rafe’s not entirely convinced. but he gives her the space she needs and drops her off.

about half an hour later, she gets a text from him that there’s takeout waiting for her downstairs. she can’t manage to eat everything because he sent enough food to feed a whole group of people.

then, he texts her close to midnight to see if she went to bed yet.

she replies: can’t fall asleep.

he texts: i’ll be there soon.

when rafe arrives, he calls her to come downstairs. she tries to climb in the passenger seat, but he tells her to go the back. when she opens the door, she sees that he laid out blankets and a pillow across the backseat.

“what is this?” she asks.

“you said you can’t sleep in your bed. or mine,” he says. “what if i drove around? could you sleep then?”

“are you serious?” she says.

“i’ll park in front of my place when you fall asleep. i’ll stay in the car. just get comfortable, alright?”

she settles in the back, leaning across the seat, following his instructions to still buckle herself in.

“thank you,” she says as he starts to drive. her eyelids are already getting heavy, the steady motion of the car genuinely helping. “sorry i’ve been so stressed out.”

“just sleep, baby,” he says.

“okay,” she whispers.

it works. she dozes off within minutes. he drives around for a while to make sure she’s deep asleep.

after he parks in his driveway, he sprawls out in his seat. this is uncomfortable. he’ll be sore tomorrow. and maybe the next day, which is a game day.

but as he listens to her deep breaths, he doesn’t doubt that she’s worth it. she hasn’t been taking care of herself lately. if he has to do it for her, he will. every time.

[razzek]

God I love everything about this! XD These two being casual everyday dorks and living their lives in between working for gods is just so fun! Matthias' "dude wtf" face is killing me. XD "Babe this is important, I'll leave in a second." XD Aaaahhh! 8D

June Patron Sketch #2 For their sketch, @razzek requested their character Art (whom I've had the pleasure of drawing before!) "being a thirst trap with his shirt open." No time to kick your Sex Ferret Boyfriend off the john, it's SELFIE TIME. (It kind of a little bit looks like Art does not have a dick, which is totally on purpose and not because I meant to draw something there and forgot.) Razz got this sketch because they made a one-time donation of $25 or more to my ko-fi (and because they're awesome and are always there to support me)! (it also just occurred to me that because this is a mirror selfie, Matthias is actually wearing a shirt with a backwards F on it. Iconic)

[monster-disaster]

Request: Chimera inspired monster

Not necessarily a traditional chimera, just a monster that you mish mash together yourself since you’re the author! I wanna make sure you have a lot of creative reign to design the creature how you want to!

Scenario/Plot: A retelling/inspired story of Beauty and the Beast, but female reader agrees to be his bride from the very start. She has abandonment issues and just yearns to be loved by anyone who’ll take her. And reader found her monster groom to be very attractive from the beginning. She’s just enjoying her life living in opulence with a man that’s fully devoted to her. *Cute shenanigans ensue between the couple, that ends in a Gomez and Morticia Adams romance*

Not sure if this’d be good for NSFW, or just a super fluffy romance would be better!

It's spring, and I'm in my historically inaccurate Regency Era. I hope you will enjoy it!

chimera!Lord Elohim x human!Reader Good to know: no warnings, and I can't promise anything, but there is a chance that we will meet Lord Elohim again because I have more ideas for their pair

A soft 'thank you' slips past your lips as the carriage door opens, and a hand reaches out towards you, offering help. Your fingers find a firm grip as you step out onto the gravel path, gathering the soft fabric of your dress to pull it out of your way. The pebbles creak under your shoes, mixing with the bustling noises of the others around you. Your gaze scans your surroundings, finding a few familiar faces among the guests. The ladies are adorned in their latest gowns, following the fashion and expectations of their titles. Their necklaces and earrings glint and shine under the warm light of the lampions and candles like the stars in the dark sky above you. In contrast, the men appear dull in their dark coats and trousers.

"Y/N?"

Your attention shifts from the guests to the mansion before you. Your gaze sweeps over the sturdy walls and delicate carvings and details. Candles glow in every window, dancing and pulsing among the lush vines that climb the grandiose building.

"Y/N?"

A slight frown pulls on your brows as your attention pauses at the wide window above the entrance door. A tall shadow stands firm and straight. The lights streaming out from the house make it impossible to see clearly.

"Y/N!" Your gaze tears away from the sight as an arm curls around yours, pulling you away from the next carriage in the long row of arriving guests. You need a moment to drag your focus away from the window. The back of your mind still lingers on the dark figure, though. "Mother?" "What are you doing?" She asks. Your frown again with confusion this time. "What do you mean?" "Come." Despite her small, delicate form, your mother has every power in her body to drag you into the house after showing the man standing at the door your invitation. "Wow!" Your amazement escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your eyes are on the chandelier hanging from the painted ceiling. "Don't be so crude!" "I'm not!" You reply, looking at the older woman with an amused smile. It's so easy to rile her up. "Come on! Don't tell me you are not surprised." She looks around more discreetly than you. Her attention lingers on the wallpapers with golden details, lush plants, and framed paintings. "I mean…" You can't help but laugh. "See?" "Well, the King was generous," she hums quietly, making sure you are the only one who can hear her while the others come and go around you two. "He saved his nephew," you reason. "He almost died."

The ballroom is already buzzing with life as you and your mother continue further into the mansion, her arm still linked with yours. "Wow!" "Y/N!" You don't even bother with a reaction. You're too busy taking in the green walls with their glinting decor, the flickering candles, and the sturdy wooden furniture. The windows, wide and tall, are framed with dark curtains, offering glimpses of the garden behind the mansion filled with lush greens and flowerbeds. From what you can see, the whole house is elegant and stylish, with the obvious preferences of its male owner.

"I will bring us something to drink," you tell your mother when you see the familiar form of your neighbor coming your way. The woman's face is red with excitement, and her eyes shine with news and the latest topics to gossip about. You already know most of them anyway. "Thank you, dear," your mother replies, letting go of your arm to face the other woman.

The excited voice of your neighbor soon disappears in the cacophony of the soft music that is quiet enough to give space for the chatter in the room. Young couples dance in the middle in each other's arms, whispering and swirling at the melody while the others stand around with drinks. Their voices mingle together to the point you can't understand them.

Maybe it's for the better.

After the King bestowed a title, fortune, and lands upon a monster who saved his nephew from certain death on the battlefield, it became impossible to avoid the whispers circulating through the streets and social gatherings. Allowing monsters to earn wealth and find a way to integrate into human society, primarily through the military, was one thing; however, granting them titles and authority was an entirely different affair. The Ton found themselves uncertain of how to react without angering the King.

They don't dare to express their opinions to the monarch; they are not dense, after all. Yet, they can't readily accept the monster into their social circles, either.

Then, a week ago, everyone received an invitation from Lord Elohim, putting many between a rock and a hard place to your utmost amusement.

As you survey the room full of people of the society close to the King, you notice that their curiosity outweighs their resentment. For tonight, at least. The lack of your surprise is understandable; you are sure this party will provide rich fodder for gossip for weeks, if not months. You glance back at your mother and her friend, already chatting in hushed whispers. Yes, you think, it's already started. It started even before the night began.

The table is pushed next to the wall between two windows. Your eyes scan the various drinks, cakes, and fruits, all fresh and ripe. You're about to reach for two cups when your attention shifts to an archway nearby. Through it, you glimpse a narrow corridor and another open door with a tall bookshelf. Your hand hesitates in mid-air, halfway to the drinks.

You shouldn't.

Your gaze sweeps over the guests, observing everyone having a great time. People continue to dance under the watchful eyes of the wallflowers and eager mothers, while the men chat in small groups.

Your mother would kill you.

As you stand still, unnoticed by the others, you find yourself repeatedly turning your attention back to the door outside.

It would be really rude of you.

You take a few tentative steps away from the table, still focusing on the people around you. A few of them smile when your eyes meet, but nobody stops to start a conversation with you.

Just a quick glance, you tell yourself as you slowly back out of the ballroom. Nobody will know.

The corridor appears much darker in contrast to the ballroom, and when you step into the other room, you have to light a candle you find on the small table next to the door.

The small library is much simpler than the other rooms of the house you've had the chance to see. The walls are hidden by bookshelves, with two sofas and a small coffee table in the middle. From there, you have a full view of another part of the garden spreading out behind the mansion.

You move quietly and slowly with the small, burning candle in your hand. The floor creaks under your steps. The dancing flame warms your face as you lean closer to read the spines of the books. The soft glow illuminates the line of your eyes and the slope of your nose. Most of the books are worn and faded.

You glance at the entrance every now and then, making sure nobody has noticed your absence yet. The noises of the music and the guests seem far away through the half-closed door.

You should go, though.

You nibble on your lower lip until it's red and slightly swollen as you reach up to the shelf. The book you grasp is dark red with a golden title. You can see that it has been regularly read.

Just a peek, you try to convince yourself, and you'll be ready to go.

Before you know it, you're sitting on one of the sofas with the candle on the table and the book on your lap.

Your mother will definitely kill you.

"It's from a friend." The deep voice coming from the door almost makes you jump out of your skin. You grab the books at the last moment before they slip from your lap to the ground. "Oh!" Your heart throbs in your throat as you gasp for air. "He wrote it," he continues, stepping closer. His hands are behind his back. The dark blue coat stretches on his broad shoulders. "While he was traveling."

You have seen monsters before. Even though humans are not particularly fond of them, they are not banned from cities and towns. At least, not anymore.

But you have never seen anything like him before.

Your eyes rake over his tall, sturdy form. At first, you think he is a rakshasa, with a thick yet lean body and a dark mane around his head, but there are goat horns peeking out of the thick fur. And instead of the delicate lion tail, a crocodile one swings behind him, dark green and covered in scales.

"Lord…" You gasp again, standing up from your seat. You can't hide the surprise in your voice or wipe it away from your face. Your fingers are tight on the book, still open. "Lord Elohim," he says with a slight bow. "And you are…" "Lady Y/L/N," you tell him. You are still so overwhelmed by him that you forget your manners entirely. You stare at him openly without shame. He is barefoot. The white shirt he wears is a bit bigger than him, showing off a bit of his chest, and tucked into the creamy-colored trousers that hug his lean waist perfectly. A slight grimace pulls on his face, letting you see his sharp canines. "I'm not doing it right, am I?" He seems easy and amused. Even a bit awkward. Your tense posture relaxes a bit. Your shoulders fall. "I mean," you dare to tease him with a small smile. "You should be outside, socializing, but I shouldn't be here either. And for that, I'm sorry." "Don't be," he says, stepping even closer. Your breath hitches. "I love being here too, so I understand." His gaze runs over the shelves full of books before his attention falls on you again. "How do you like it?" He nods to the book still in your hand. "It's interesting," you tell him. "I didn't know orcs have such a rich culture." There is a glint of amusement in his eyes. "How many orcs do you know?" Heat creeps up on your cheeks. "None." "You can take it with you," he says, motioning to the book again. "It's really good." "Oh, I can't…" "You can," he says immediately. "I'm offering." He is so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face. The male is handsome, with his almost black snout and golden eyes. The realization shocks you. You didn't think monsters could be so attractive. "Well," you clear your throat. Your nose is full of his scent. Warmth and nature. "Thank you." You put it down on the table next to you, though. Maybe you can sneak in before you have to leave and take it home without your mother noticing. She wouldn't be happy with you leaving the ballroom and being alone with a man, monster or not. "You are here with…" "My mother," you tell him. "She is outside… where I should be." He grins. "Me too." None of you move. "Do you want me to introduce you?" You ask him. You can't just leave him here. Not after he offered you his book and was so kind to you. "It can be scary around the ton for the first time." There is something wolfish in his smirk that makes your insides tremble with excitement. You understand, though. You don't think there are a lot of things that can scare him. "Thank you," Lord Elohim says in the end, holding up his arm for you to take. He is warm under your touch as you accept his offer.

Your heart flutters at his closeness.

Eyes fall on you the moment you step into the ballroom on Lord Elohim's side. Your fingers tighten on the curve of his elbows, and he squeezes your hand softly as a reassurance. The room gets quiet as you make your way to your mother through the crowd. Her eyes are wide with shock as you approach her. "Mother," you smile at her, not caring about the heavy gazes on you and the monster. "Let me introduce Lord Elohim." Your mother curtsies, taking back the control over her face. A soft smile appears on her lips, and she looks up at the tall male. "My Lord." "Lady Y/L/N," he bows, still holding onto you on his arm. His paw-like hand is warm on your glove-covered skin. "Please," he straightens, looking around the room. "Continue. Enjoy the night."

His words are followed by silence, and everyone needs a few seconds to regain their composure and focus on their business. Quiet murmurs ripple through the guests, the music starts again, and the weight of the others' attention lifts off your shoulders a bit. Not entirely, though.

"Thank you for the invitation, my Lord," your mother says. You know she feels awkward even though she is really great at hiding it. "I hope everything is for your liking." "Of course," the older woman nods. Before another tense silence could fall on your small company, you turn to the male. He is already watching you, and you can see your mother's eyes widening with fear about what you plan to say. You understand her. "It would be really gentlemanly of you to ask me to dance." You hear your mother gasping, but your focus is on Lord Elohim and his sharp canines as he smiles at you. There is something satisfied and cheeky in the curve.

His golden eyes bore into yours as he gently tugs on your hand, leading you to the couples dancing in the heart of the ballroom. You're aware of the gazes fixed upon you, analyzing your every move, yet you couldn't care less. Your attention is consumed by the chimera before you. His paw-like hand trails from yours, grazing over your arm until it settles on the small of your back, drawing you closer until you're enveloped by his embrace. A tingling sensation courses through your entire being. A sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it. "Are you alright, my lady?" The rumble of his chest echoes within yours.

Are you okay? You're uncertain. Unable to tear your gaze away from his, you feel like a raw nerve, sensitive and on the verge of bursting as he encloses you against himself. The air around you grows hot and heavy, causing your chest to ache and throb.

A smirk plays on his lips. "Are you thinking of running?" Lord Elohim teases, regarding you like a deer he often spots in his garden at dawn. With wide eyes and slightly parted lips, you gaze up at him. He's certain the soft skin of your cheeks would be warm under his touch if he dared to act as he desires despite the attention of his guests. Oh, how he longs to send them all home and keep only you for himself. The pretty little lady with the tendency to sneak around.

"No," you breathe out, fighting for air when you find your voice, holding onto his shoulder more firmly as if he is the only one who keeps you on your feet. You can feel the softness of his mane on your fingertips. Your other hand is in the air in his grasp.

It takes a moment for you to register the orchestra and your body's response to the gentle melody. You move mindlessly under Lord Elohim's guide. Swaying back and forth, you follow the male's lead on the dance floor. His embrace envelops you in warmth, leaving you feeling giddy and breathless as he twirls you, pulling you back to him moments later. You smile up at him, on the verge of laughter.

"You're quite the dancer," you compliment him. "Well, thank you," he hums, his gaze still firmly fixed on yours. "In that case, I hope you won't mind if I ask you to dance with me again." And a few more times.

You don't answer immediately. A sense of certainty washes over you, Lord Elohim will be your lifelong dance partner. The thought fills you with excitement for your future as you stare up at him. It seems like the gold of his eyes swirls under the lights that dance in sync with you.

"I'd love to dance with you some more, my Lord."

For an eternity, if it's possible.

[sophie-frm-mars]

Tony Blair, Margaret Thatcher's greatest success, shifted the image of the labour party into the chic neoliberal image obsessed world of PR politics where symbolism and focus groups reign supreme. Electoral politics has been a bourgeois world of distraction and suppression of working class radicalism since its inception, but the move that Blair brought to UK politics shifted the divide from crusty socialists vs radical free enterprise finance perverts to a blurry divide barely legible within the framework of capital, so that the finance perverts became the wallpaper and radicalism was simply no longer in the room.

Starmer, in reincarnating Blair's ghost on a landslide victory that a huge amount of the population feel no enthusiasm for and at best relief that he's not technically the Tories ant more if they haven't been paying much attention to his policies, is reaffirming that the division is not between differently coloured ties you decide on at the ballot box but (as it has always really been) between the ruling class and the working class. He is positioning himself ready to do the most by the book straightforward statesman ship possible, which is to say to mediate class tensions in favour of the ruling class. His victory should only be a reminder that 99% of politics is outside the polling station and now is the time to get organized.

Socialists still involved in the machine of elite politics like Corbyn should absolutely make a socialist party that can catch labour defecters in the same way that Reform will inevitably catch tory ones as the next 5 years go on. If that goes well, there may be a chance that our votes are meaningful in 2029, but if not it'll just be the game liberals want it to be, a game of keeping The Bad Party out. It is more important not to be the bad one than it is to ever do anything good.

But if we think about 2029 elections, 2034, 2039 and so on, assuming that the GEs happen when they're scheduled (🤷‍♀️) then we so quickly run into a world devastated by climate change that we realise spending any of our energy thinking about electoralism over organising is a waste.

The party who nakedly despise the working class are no longer in power, the party who have to pretend not to despise the working class are in. You still can't ask them for anything, you have to take it. Now is the time for strikes, protests, and parallel community structures refusing to delegate responsibility to the state to push harder and harder and harder still

[wwefont]

two (2) lockscreens of the shield. like/reblog if you save. DON’T REPOST. wwefont’s requests are open. follow our blog for more.

[graveyardhorror]

WHAT HE DOES ON YOUR PHONE

>SUPERSTARS MASTERLIST

➽────────────────────❥

DEAN AMBROSE/JON MOXLEY

-He may not be the most tech savvy individual, but one thing he has mastered with technology is being an absolute menace

-Changes your contact names, rearranges your apps, even changes your wallpaper to the most random pictures he can find online

ROMAN REIGNS

-When you leave your phone unattended around him expect to find a lot of selfies of him, since he knows he's away a lot he leaves you with a wide range of selfies lol

-From selfies that show how handsome he is to pictures that look like he accidently took them, he gives you everything and every facial expression in his beloved selfies

SETH ROLLINS

-So many videos of him talking about how much he loves and cares about you, kind words, borderline ted talk motivational speeches, and even cute videos of him with your pets

-He wants you to have videos of him to look back on for when times get rough or when you have a bad day, since he can't always be physically there to bring you comfort or call you

RANDY ORTON

-Though he doesn't use his own phone much (besides for calls and occasional messaging), he loves to play all the random fun games on your phone

-Like an iPad kid this man can spend hours playing mobile games, he may look pissed while on your phone but really he's just focused on beating the latest level in candy crush

FINN BALOR

-Another selfie taker! He takes selfies and videos of him post-workout, flexing his muscles, etc. all for you to gawk at later on

-His muscles are built from years of dedication to the gym and his wrestling career, however he likes the look on your face when you see him shirtless (it's a win-win scenario every time)

NEVILLE/PAC

-Goes through your online shopping apps and buys your entire cart, he just loves to see your happy and surprised face when he purchases those things you've been talking to him about nonstop

-He is a lover and a giver through and through and because of this he enjoys buying you things from your phone, at the beginning of your relationship he'd buy you small things but now? he goes all out!

➽────────────────────❥

[wrestlingeditsheaven]

@ava-valerie

[thedroneranger]

Pages In-between

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Synopsis: Mrs. Seresin is a hard person to surprise. However, stealing a page from her book, Jake may have managed to catch his wife off guard.

Notes: Here is entry one of two for @roosterforme's '80s Rocktober challenge! The song is Centerfold by J. Geils Band. Part of the To-do List collection.

Warnings: 18+ only; smut.

Word count: 3.8k.

Mrs. Seresin did a little happy dance as she stuck the key in the lock and opened the door of her PO box. This was the last time she would have to stop by the post office to pick up her business mail. A smile pulled her lips as she cradled all the mail in one hand and locked the box with the other.

She was also delighted by the thought of all her sample books and design digests moving to her new studio. Now, she and Jake had more room for collector edition novels and travel tchotchkes in their home office. Jake was returning tonight from a week-long training and had promised to help pack. He might’ve been more excited than her that she was finally getting a studio. 

Jake never stood in the way of her career, but he did voice his opinion about her need for more separation between work and home. Yes, she had an office—they technically shared the space—but sometimes work spilled into other areas of the house. And Jake knew she was overworking when he was away.

Today’s mail drop was sizable and included a few new sample books. A couple of her monthly subscriptions also arrived. She’d have time to thoroughly sort when she got home. Jake wasn’t due back until later.

Once home, she parked in the garage and was greeted by Ruck when she entered the house. She spent a few minutes loving him before going upstairs to change. Ruck on her heels, she returned to the garage to get the mountain of mail. Back inside, she stood at the kitchen island and sorted.

A sample book for a new tile company’s latest collection. The wallpaper samples a client requested. Pantone’s interiors collection for the new year. New editions of Dwell and Architectural Digest. The last piece of mail was wrapped in an opaque poly plastic bag. Going for ease, she fished scissors out of the drawer beside her and sliced off the crimp.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said aloud as she pulled a glossy magazine out of the wrapper. Staring back at her was a shirtless Jake, wearing Wranglers with his thumbs hooked in the belt loops. He donned his favorite Stetson and had a toothpick dangling from his lips. The title Flyboy was printed above his head in a font that mimicked the infamous Playboy.

A smile plastered on her face, she sighed as she flipped it open. As tempted as she was to immediately look at the centerfold, she browsed the articles and features first. Jake put a lot of thought into Flyboy—from the photos to the articles and down to the barcode, which included their wedding date.

Now she understood why she’d been banned from his calendar photoshoot.

Every year, the Lemoore-based strike fighter squadrons competed to raise money for charity. By New Year’s Eve each year, the squadrons were expected to present a check for at least $12,000 to the charity of their choice. The three years previous, Jake’s squadron, the VFA-151 Vigilantes, had at least doubled the minimum expected donation. The squadron’s creative approaches to raising funds not only brought in a lot of money but made them the reigning champions. 

Over the years, the Seresin became a staple in the competition. Year 1, Mrs. Seresin pitched the Commander to allow the Vigilantes to participate in a date auction. The night was memorable not only because the squadron raised $64,000, but also because Mrs. Seresin got into a bidding war with the Commander’s ex-wife over Jake. The victor, she got kudos from the Commander for putting his pain-in-the-ass ex in her place.

The following year, Jake suggested weekend car washes from Memorial Day to Labor Day. The weekends he and Mrs. Seresin volunteered were always the highest grossing. When Mrs. Seresin couldn’t join him, he was sure to send her pictures of him and the rest of the squad posing in black triangle bikini tops.

For Year 3, the squadron was cleared to host an air show. It got so much publicity that the Navy decided its official demo squadron, the Blue Angels, would participate. Obsessed with the Blue Angels as a child, Jake nearly blacked out when he was presented with an honorary patch for flying alongside them.

No one thought the Vigilantes would be able to top the air show for Year 4. However, inspired by an anniversary gift from his wife, Jake proposed a calendar. Twelve months, 12 pilots. After the initial laughter, everyone was sold.

When Jake told his Mrs. Seresin, she immediately sprung into action to assist. By the time Jake left for work the next morning, she had secured a pro bono photographer and had plans to dress the sets and pilots. Jake knew his wife was a force, but she never ceased to amaze him. She had to shoo him out of the house before he was late for work, because he was showering her in physical gratitude. 

Mrs. Seresin couldn’t help but smile as she thought about all the late nights and takeout. Ann, her long-time friend, agreed to be the photographer and de facto assistant art director. Mrs. Seresin and Ann had staged and shot so many home and business interiors together, they lost count. They were excited to tackle a new frontier.

However, Mrs. Seresin did not get to conquer the frontier that was Jake in front of the camera. When he asked her to not attend his shoot because he wanted to surprise her, she choked down her disappointment and respected his wishes. 

However, her disappointment was in the rearview mirror the minute she saw Jake’s photo at the reveal party. Clad in just his dress whites pants, Jake’s megawatt smile lit the image while he kneeled alongside Ruck. Tongue lolling out of his mouth, Ruck was also smiling at the camera. 

To top it off, Jake was the pilot for December, Mrs. Seresin’s birthday month. “An early birthday gift,” Jake called it as he hugged her to his side and kissed her temple. 

That night was for Jake and the rest of the squad, but Mrs. Seresin felt like the real winner.

After its release, the Vigilante calendar took social media by storm. It was easily their most successful campaign, raking in over six figures. And of course, Jake and Ruck became everyone’s favorite duo. 

Although Jake wasn’t on social media, and Mrs. Seresin kept her social footprint strictly business, the internet sleuths still found them. Fortunately, they were respectful of their boundaries. Even more surprising, learning Jake was married and that Ruck was Mrs. Seresin’s dog just made folks swoon harder.

An hour after opening the mail, Mrs. Seresin was tucked on the couch, wine in hand, and reading Flyboy cover to cover. Ruck laid at her feet and lifted his head every now and then to confirm her noises weren’t duress.

Mrs. Seresin held the magazine sideways to take in the centerfold in all its glory. Jake was standing naked in the foreground of a hangar with his helmet perfectly positioned to keep the photo modest and have his call sign on full display. His signature smile, sandwiched between deep dimples, added to the cheekiness of the missing vowels on his helmet. She couldn’t help but smile.

Jake knew the magazine arrived today. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he thought about her reading it. It wasn’t the pictures he was nervous about, it was the pages in between. 

Curating Flyboy was a trip down memory lane for Jake. He spent time scrolling through their shared memories and writing his perspective of their adventures. It was fun, and he even decided to start a journal.

Jake was confident the magazine caught her off guard. His birthday plan was unfolding perfectly. He was hoping his outfit, his flight suit, was the second punch of a one-two celebration combination. The cherry on top was riding shotgun: a half dozen her favorite donuts. 

Since her birthday was two days after Christmas, Jake vowed to keep her birthday separate from the holidays. To honor that, he always celebrated with her in early December. More used to having her birthday swept under the rug, it was the first time in their relationship Jake was able to surprise her.

The truck headlights lit the closed garage door as Jake pulled into the driveway. Once parked, he slipped out of the vehicle and prepared for Mrs. Seresin’s three-legged protector, Ruck, to greet him. Inside, while Jake shed his things at the door, Ruck nosed the donut box. Jake had bought a doggie donut so Ruck could celebrate, too. Package inspected and approved, Ruck led the way to the living room. 

Mrs. Seresin was flipping through what Jake assumed was his magazine. She glanced up to find him swaggering over in his flight suit—the top tied around his waist—and a black t-shirt, holding a box. “Hey, flyboy.” Her voice was sultry. “Or should I say coverboy.” Jake couldn’t help but smile, and she mirrored his expression. 

“Happy birthday, baby.” He flipped open the box. Her face lit up as she stood to get a donut. Jake watched as she selected her favorite and happily took a huge bite. While she chewed it, she turned the pastry to feed Jake. He obliged. 

She tucked a couple fingers in the waist of his flight suit and led him to the couch. Jake placed the donuts on the coffee table and traded her donut for Ruck’s treat. She smiled and fed it to him. Jake’s heart swelled at how gentle Ruck was with her. She finished her donut nestled under Jake’s arm with Ruck’s head in her lap. She fed Jake the last bite. After swallowing, he leaned in to plant a sugary kiss on her lips and murmur one more “happy birthday”.

“Can I unwrap my present?” She smirked at him.

Jake grinned. “You already did.” He tipped his head toward the magazine on the table. Mrs. Seresin leaned forward to grab the magazine, and then returned to her spot under Jake’s arm. Casually, she flipped the pages. “Do you like it?” Jake questioned.

“Love it,” she quickly answered. She looked at him with the biggest smile. He leaned down again and pressed his lips to hers. “So thoughtful. So personal. So hot,” she said between kisses. “But you really didn’t drive home in your suit flight for me?” Her lips pulled into a pout. “I know this is a clean suit. You don’t reek of jet fuel.” Jake wordlessly responded, his bottom lip disappeared behind his teeth as he smiled.

“What was your favorite article?” Jake asked, unfazed.

“Ruck’s, of course.” Jake scrunched his nose at her. She chuckled and returned to lazily flipping the pages. “I also liked reminiscing about our honeymoon. You picked some exclusive photos.” Jake flashed a toothy grin as she looked back at him. He had included some photos he took of Mrs. Seresin on the private yacht they stayed on for their French Riviera honeymoon.

His personal favorite was her draped nude on a deck lounge chair with her legs butterflied while she pleasured herself—her hand tastefully covered her core. “I’d love to recreate some of those by the pool,” he responded. 

“Mhmm,” Mrs. Seresin replied, still flipping through the magazine. “Or on another yacht. We do have a milestone anniversary coming up,” she reminded him. Jake responded by placing a kiss to her temple.

“Your photos were nice, too,” she added, making eye contact with him and sticking her tongue out. He squeezed her closer and tried to playfully catch her tongue but captured her bottom lip instead. She leaned into the kiss, bringing a hand to the side of his face. Carefully, Jake removed the periodical from her lap as she slid onto his. 

Straddling him, she cradled his face in her hands as she deepened the kiss. Magazine safely on the coffee table, Jake slipped his hands under her shirt—one of his Academy shirts—and his thumbs dipped into the waistband of her bike shorts to rub the soft skin of her lower belly. His thumbs circled lower and confirmed his suspicion—no panties. 

She rolled her pelvis into his as she kissed him harder. He moaned, and Mrs. Seresin thought she might come right then. She pulled away, mouth agape, and sat back on his lap. “Get this off.” She demanded as she helped strip him of his t-shirt. “Just like the magazine.” She referred to the picture of Jake shirtless with his flight suit tied around his waist. In the photo his suit was so dangerously low that, with his thumb hooked in the roll, you could see his tiny “Bite me” tattoo. 

She rubbed herself all over Jake as they continued to make out. Jake’s hands alternated between squeezing her ass and wandering up her shirt. He quickly learned she wasn’t wearing a bra and was doing his best to coax her out of her top. 

She whined and tangled her fingers in his locks, pulling his head back and breaking their kiss. “I want to feel more of your skin.” Jake punctuated his statement by palming her ass.

“It’s not your birthday, you don’t get to make demands.” She ground herself more in his lap, making him groan.

“Not a demand, just a suggestion,” Jake responded. She loosened her grip on him, allowing him to dip his head toward her chest. She watched as he found one of her taut nipples through the fabric. Gently, he tugged it with his teeth. She bit her bottom lip as she enjoyed the sensation. 

“Jake.” She drew out his name as her head tipped back. He switched to the other nipple. “Fuck.” She quickly ripped her shirt overhead, and he gladly mouthed her bare chest. As he licked and sucked and massaged, she found a rhythm rolling her pelvis against his.

Mrs. Seresin slowly halted her hips and curled her fingers back into Jake’s hair to pull him away from her chest. Jake looked up at her—lips puffy and cheeks a little flush. He whined when she wiggled out of his lap. 

She stood and slowly began to slide off her bike shorts as she sauntered out of his reach. She even turned so he could see her tattoo appear on the swell of her backside as she slowly slid the fabric down. Once her shorts were around her ankles, she stepped out of them. 

“C’mon, coverboy.” Back still to Jake, she come-hithered him over her shoulder as she strutted away. Jake immediately knew where she was leading him. He practically jumped off the couch and ran after her. She squealed when his arm snaked around her middle, and he carried her sideways into their office. 

There were boxes—half full, empty, flat packed—strewn around the room. Otherwise, the office was in its usual decadence. The floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out to the secluded backyard, letting the moonlight flood the space.

Jake marched past their desk, over to the windows and set Mrs. Seresin on her feet. He soaked in her naked form as he held her until she was steady. Jake was distracted by her curves illuminated in the night light. She got his attention back by tugging on his arm as she turned to face him. Jake made eye contact with her as his hands continued to traverse her body. He could feel the incremental movements of her muscles. 

“You ok?” She asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved a stray lock of hair away from his face. 

Jake engulfed her in his arms and pulled her into his chest. Her head was tipped completely back. “Never better.” His voice was heavy with lust. She smiled as his lips met hers for a lingering kiss. “Is it my birthday or yours?” he asked as they separated. 

She smirked and nipped his lip. “It’s definitely mine.” She slipped out of his arms. He watched as she pressed her back flush to the cool windows. “Your flight suit looks good on, but take it off for me, coverboy,” she said.

Even in the low light, Jake’s smile was beaming. Jake’s movements were antagonistically slow as he loosened the fabric and pushed it down his body. She couldn’t help but smile as he mimicked her earlier motions, slowly revealing his tattoo. 

Flight suit abandoned, he stalked toward her, holding eye contact. His cock bounced against his abdomen with each step. Back and palms still flush to the glass, she craned her head back to maintain eye contact as Jake approached. He leaned down for a kiss. A large hand softly cupped the column of her throat. Jake had her pinned between him and the window with his length resting against her belly. She squeezed her thighs together as their make out intensified.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Jake pulled back. “Turn.” His voice was deep. She obeyed and supported herself with her forearms against the glass as she bent and arched her back.

Mrs. Seresin closed her eyes and remembered to breathe as Jake easily slid to the hilt. “You’re so wet,” Jake praised as he began a slow pace. One hand returning to her throat. “Did you work yourself up looking at my photos, thinking about what’s behind that helmet?” Jake rhetorically asked as he gently squeezed her neck. He snapped his hips, making her whimper. He smiled, feeling the hum against his fingers.

For leverage, Jake placed a hand beside hers on the window, and slipped the other around her front between her legs. She moaned and squeezed her eyes closed as his calloused fingers drew tight circles on her clit. Jake smiled into her shoulder as he felt her push onto her toes to chase the friction of his fingers.

Together they found a perfect rhythm. Jake continued to pepper her with praise and move with her. Eventually, Mrs. Seresin had her cheek and chest pressed against the window. She moaned with each thrust. Jake knew if they kept this positioned he’d come before her. 

She gasped but stayed pressed to the window as Jake dropped to his knees. Spreading her with his thumbs, he lapped her from behind. She keened as she arched her back more to give him better access. Jake shifted slightly so his tongue dipped into her.

That was all Mrs. Seresin needed. Jake stilled and let her bounce up and down on his tongue. Mrs. Seresin grew louder with each bob. Palms pressed to the glass, she rested her chin on it as she quickened her pace. Finally, her hips stuttered and she slowed her motions as waves of pleasure rolled through her. 

Jake popped to his feet and quickly slipped his cock into her throbbing heat. “Yes,” he hissed as her walls squeezed him. A few thrusts and he pumped her full of cum.

He groaned as his body eclipsed hers against the glass. After he caught his breath, he kissed her shoulders. She groaned, lifting her head off the window to look over her shoulder. 

“Happy birthday,” Jake said before he pressed his lips to hers. 

“A happy birthday, indeed.” She returned to her position against the window. 

Quickly, Jake slipped out of her and scooped into her his arms to avoid dripping any cum on the floor. She relaxed into him as he carried her to their bedroom. He deposited her on the bed before getting a washcloth to clean her up. 

Cleaned up, he tossed her favorite of his shirts at her before disappearing back into the bathroom. When he returned she was already curled under the blankets. Jake tossed on a shirt and shorts and headed downstairs to let Ruck out. 

While Ruck was in the yard, Jake went to the garage and unloaded the last of Mrs. Seresin’s gifts. He set them in the office out of the way. She could open them in the morning. 

Their little secret, Jake treated Ruck to one more donut before they headed back to the bedroom. Ruck tucked himself in his bed on Mrs. Seresin’s side of the bed as Jake slipped under the covers and spooned his wife. 

She turned to face him. “Thank you.” She gave him a quick kiss before flipping back over to tuck herself against him. 

“You’re welcome.” Jake pressed one more kiss to her temple, and then listened to her breathing as he fell asleep. 

The next morning, Jake still asleep, she wandered downstairs to make coffee. While she waited for his pour-over, she picked up the remnants of last night. Retracing their steps, she picked up clothes and folded them. As she entered the office, she kept her sights on Jake’s crumpled flight suit. She folded it, a smile tugging her lips as she thought about last night. Her smile became a full fledged smirk as she noticed all the body part prints on the glass.

As she turned to leave, something leaning against the bookshelves caught her eye. Those were not there last night. Two very large packages. She walked over with a hand extended, fingers ready to graze the paper, when she heard, “Go ahead, open them.” 

Startled, she jumped back, clapped a hand over her heart and turned to find Jake. His grin outdoing the Cheshire Cat, he leaned against the door frame with a mug in each hand. She caught her breath as Jake sauntered over. He handed her a mug and pressed his lips to her forehead. 

“These are your last gifts,” Jake said. She threw him a look as she walked back toward the packages. Perching her cup on a shelf, she dipped her fingers behind one of the folds and tore the wrapping. She couldn’t help but laugh as she caught sight of her own face staring at her. 

Quickly, she tore through the paper to reveal framed prints of her draped naked across the hood of Jake’s vintage Mustang and him naked, holding his helmet and smirking. Their centerfolds.

“Where were you thinking we would hang these?” She gathered her coffee and stepped back beside Jake so they could view their photos together.

He shrugged. They looked at each other. “You’re the designer, and it’s your birthday, so you get to pick.”

“I’ll think about it.” They both smiled as she bounced onto her toes to give him a quick peck. 

“One more thing,” he said as they parted. She waited for him to continue. “You can’t hang yours in the garage.” She arched an eyebrow. “I don’t want the neighbor boys trying to sneak a peek when the garage opens and closes.” She burst into laughter. 

“I love you,” she replied. Jake feigned confusion as she kissed his cheek. Together, they sipped their coffees and chatted about where to hang the photos. 

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[jellogram]

One thing for which I'm really grateful to my parents is that they absolutely let me be a weird little art freak. I had free reign over decorating my room so I had sink plugs hanging from my ceiling and my dad brought me back signs from a closed down grocery store so I had a bunch of grocery store displays and I filled a bunch of bottles with weird shit and lined them up on my shelves and it was all great. And my mom would always be like "Oh... that's... different..." but she never said no. And I think this is great. When your ten year old wants to wallpaper part of their room with home depot paint chips you have to let them.