#yep honestly everything else you can figure out from the blog below

[fairy-ganj-mother]

finally created my own little world, goodbye

[aitadjcrazytimes]

It's been a good run

But it's time to bring this to a close!

The saga is over, C, T and I are all together. T and I are in the swing of it, C approves as much as it is possible for him to approve of anything, everyone knows about the blog and is chill.

C is back at his rightful place of walking his sister down the aisle.

I'm getting everything I want, and we're all free to make each other miserable until the day we die.

I'm not going to be updating this blog anymore! Nobody else involved with the situation will be submitting any more AITA posts either, because they are either not on tumblr or agreed it would be annoying.

I will say that there is some stuff on here that I've alluded to that isn't necessarily 100% in the spirit of things, so I've included some stuff below the cut for the folks who have caught onto that. I would not suggest reading it if you like how all of this played out and want to keep it that way. I know that's incredibly vague, but I'm not sure how to phrase it without making it weird?

Thank you all for listening and talking to me over the past few days! That's where I'm leaving it!

...

...

...

...Is everyone who wants to keep believing in the disaster polycule gone? Yes? OK!

So, this was fake. I made up the whole thing. TK and C and T and everyone else are fictional characters. Did I lie? Yes. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Q: All of it? Even the og AITA post? The followup AITA post? The screenshots?

A: All of it.

Q: Wh... Why did you do this...?

A: Well, first this all started as a Red vs Blue fanfic for the ship Chexer (Church/Tex/Tucker)-

It started as a fanfic for Chexer. However, I was already working on a different fanfic for RVB that was totalling about 15k words at this point (+ at least 90k to go), and I knew I would never have the time or energy to write this one. I thought: yknow. this would be really funny as an aita post.

Q: It was a fanfic of a Halo fanfic series.

A: Yep!

So, I submitted Tucker's perspective. I did not expect for it to get more than maybe 100 notes at most. I totally thought someone would call it out right away.

The funny part is, if I'd dedicated all this energy to a fic instead of this blog, I'd probably have about 15-20 thousand words of fic already, but whatever, can't ruin my personal day!

Also, I wanted to see how many people would figure it out/how long it would take for it to become too obvious that this was a fandom thing. I was dropping names and RvB lore since the beginning. A few people did figure it out, and I DMed them in private to let them know.

Q: But why make the blog then?

A: Because I love to lie and be a nuisance to the general populace! <3

It was always my intent to wait until Carolina's perspective got posted (i am honestly still shocked i got away with "Carey/Georgia/West Virginia/Alabama/Miss Louisiana 1988"), let it simmer for about a day, then come clean. Which is what I'm doing now!

The reason I'm coming clean now instead of dragging it out is because I don't want anyone to feel stupid or like they got duped. You're not stupid! You were a part of this story! This was, as one anon said, a creative writing project. It was a collaboration! Thank you so much for helping me!

That said, I'm sorry to anyone that finds this disappointing! I had a blast doing this, but I will not be doing it again. I have gotten my fill. I have had my taste of being an influencer, and now I can go on with my life without ever feeling like I need to start a youtube channel.

Q: How did you keep up with a consistent timeline?

A: I didn't, especially at first. But in my time as a liar who lies about things, I have found that usually people are willing to believe you when you say "yeah, i lied about that".

Q: Wait, what about the thing with your kid?

A: Yeah, I fucked up on this one. In the other fic I was/am writing, Tucker was around 33. So, when I was saying what Junior's age was, I subtracted it from 33 and got 18. It wasn't until I was showing my partner the blog and they said "Wait, he had his kid at 13??????" that I realized I had fucked up. Oops!

Q: Was it really ALL fake?

A: For the most part. I will say that I did actually drop chocolate cake all over my tits that one time and had to shower by myself like a fucking loser. That one was true. I did also get my nails done for the first time ever, which did actually affect my typing. And I am in a band (but so is Tucker, canonically)! There are a few other things as well, but I don't want to list all of them.

Q: DID you ever read homestuck?

A: Nope. And I never will.

Even the title, though I will say that the title I came up with was "Leonard "Alpha Bitch" Church's Decidedly Not Lo-Fi Beats to Get Nasty and Get Clean To: The Movie"

Q: So there was never a combination sex/bathtime playlist?

A: Maybe! But perhaps more accurately: the combination sex/bathtime playlist was inside of you all along. You can make it. There are only three songs on there that are canon to the lore of this blog. Those are No Children by The Mountain Goats, Take It Out On Me by Thousand Foot Krutch, and one unknown song from the album Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV by Coheed and Cambria (Yep, the call was coming from inside the house, I gave Church my music taste). I had intended this to be Wake Up, but it's out of my hands now. The rest is yours to fill in.

Q: What's your main blog, so I can follow you?

A: Hi, this is aitadjcrazytimes. You're not getting that.

Q: Your AO3 handle?

A: Nope, not that either.

You will never find me. And that's the way I want it. You will see me in every blog. Every new follower. Every stranger you meet on the street. You will look into your discord kitten's eyes, and you will absently wonder if he was the one behind aitadjcrazytimes. And you will never know for certain.

Q: But-

A: Let me live on in your memory. The only person who knows both who I am and the fact that I did this is my partner, who is not into RvB or commonly on tumblr. I am not a RvB blog. I am not a writing blog. I am a nobody on the fringes of tumblr society who's been here long enough to know how to remain in the shadows.

And, even if you do manage to find me, against all odds:

No one will ever believe you.

I am closing my askbox. I am also closing my messages. If you have anything to say to Tucker or Me (tumblr user aitadjcrazytimes), you are welcome to do so in the replies or reblogs, but you will not be receiving an answer. I'll keep this blog up for anyone that wants to go through after the fact and do a deep dive or what have you.

Thanks to everyone who made this into the wild ride it was! Live long and get fucked or whatever! Xoxo <3

[ot3tropetober]

Eliot and Hardison are travel journalists for rival publications who keep showing up in the same places 

Fic for this (~3500 words) is below the read more! Some notes: 

[backstory on why Hardison is writing these comes from this post]

[Eliot, Parker, and Hardison are all commenting on this document, think of it like the chat in Google drive? In-document comments from Eliot are italicized, from Hardison are in bold, and from Parker are plain text] 

By the time Will Coffey stepped off the plane in Dallas, all he wanted was a nice long shower and to sleep in his own bed for once. Being a travel journalist for a leading travel magazine had its perks– a month-long trip across Mexico, for example, all expenses paid or at least reimbursed – but after a month on the road he was dead tired and ready to be home. 

Is this supposed to be me? Why am I living in Dallas? 

Yes, and also, you don’t actually live in Dallas, Eliot, you live here, in Portland, with us. 

I know that, I just– you know what, never mind. 

Well, Will Coffey likes Dallas. 

I am Will Coffey!! 

That’s the spirit. 

The other thing about being on the road for a living was that sometimes it felt kinda lonely, and as relieved as he was to be home, the first couple of minutes after he walked in, turned on the lights, and looked around at an empty place, that was always a little bittersweet. But the only other person he’d really seen in any kind of serious capacity the whole time he’d had this gig was a fellow traveler who spent just as much time on the road as he did, so it just kinda was what it was. He set his keys and his bag down and headed to the kitchen for a beer, but he hadn’t even opened his fridge when his phone buzzed a couple times. It was a text from Sarah, his editor. He’d known her forever– they shared a couple classes in college. Now they shared the stress of managing a print publication in an increasingly digital world. 

“Did you see this?” she had written. There was a link in the next message. “How does this guy get this stuff up so fast?“ 

Will already knew what he was gonna find before he clicked the link, and sure enough, it directed him to a popular travel blog called The Travel Geek, which was a ridiculous name for a travel blog but people absolutely went wild for it. Will liked it too, not that he would ever really admit it, but that probably had more to do with the guy who ran it than anything else. They had…not a thing, exactly? It was hard to explain whatever was going on with Jeremy Edwards, who by rights Will should probably hate for stealing his stories and his audience. But the problem with that was mainly that the guy was so goddamn likeable. 

I’m guessing that’s you. 

You would be correct. 

You think I think you’re likeable? 

No, I know it. 

he is pretty likeable

Yeah, yeah. 

Will had met Jeremy a couple of years ago, right when he was just starting out with his blog. Jeremy said he’d been reading Will’s stuff for a while and would love some advice from a pro. It wasn’t like Will didn’t know it was a little bit of flattery, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know it was a little bit of flirting, either. It also wasn’t like Jeremy was bad to look at. So Will said sure, he’d be glad to, and they were in Belgium, so they shared some beers, ate fries from a baraque at one in the morning on a park bench, shoulders pressed together, while Will tipsily rhapsodized about gaufre de Liège while Jeremy laughed and laughed. 

I have never *rhapsodized* about anything in my damn life. 

Have you heard you talk about food? This is not a criticism. I could listen to that all day. 

Nothing really happened, in the end, just a good conversation and the promise to keep in touch. That turned out to be easier than it should have been, because they started covering the same damn things, all the time. One big world, and somehow they were always sharing part of it: Will was in India on a camel safari through the Thar Desert, and Jeremy was there, keeping Will up at night tappity tapping on his keyboard. Or Will was in Oatman, Arizona, for a piece on Route 66, and there was Jeremy, taking selfies with the wild burros roaming the streets of the town. Or Will was traveling around Japan, doing a feature on onsens, and Jeremy was there, too, acting like he wasn’t looking in Will’s direction while they sat, very naked, in the soothing hot water. It went on like that for a while until finally one night in Barcelona, in front of Sagrada Familia, he looked at Jeremy, tall and handsome in this absurd brightly patterned scarf, and said, “This is ridiculous, man,” and pulled him in for a long, lingering kiss. 

Do you honestly think it would have taken me that long? 

I don’t know, baby, it took your cowboy ass five years in real time, so Will’s doing a lot better than you. 

OoooooooOooo 

We had a lot goin on!!! And what is that supposed to be, parker? are you some kind of ghost? 

it made more sense in person 

I’ll take your word for it. 

It wasn’t a relationship, exactly. It was just something they did, sometimes, if they happened to run into each other on the road. It wasn’t like he was getting invited home for the holidays, or anything, and he was fine with that, really. The long and short of it was, they’d basically been circling each other for years now, professionally, personally, whatever, but the professional stuff was definitely getting in the way of anything else. Because Will would sit down and write out his long, detailed articles with carefully selected photographs that would look just right on the page, while Jeremy had already turned out quick blog entry after quick blog entry, listing off places people should visit with witty little one sentence summaries, and people just ate it right up with a spoon while Adventure., Will’s magazine, slowly saw its sales circling the drain. It stung a little. Maybe more than a little. It wasn’t like he could say the guy wasn’t working hard, but damn. Hell, the best selling issue they’d had in a couple years was the one where Sarah had masterminded a collaboration between Will and Jeremy. Blogging was definitely here to stay. 

That night in Belgium was five years ago, and at the time it seemed impossible that the internet would ever really fully overtake print. But bloggers and phones had both gotten smarter over the last five years, and now everyone wanted their news in little chunks that they could read on a screen during their commute, so travel blogs were the hot new thing. Will grimaced as he looked at the blog entries Jeremy already had up from Mexico, where they’d run into each other at least half a dozen times. 

Five Reasons You Need to Visit Mexico City Right Now; What You’re Missing Because You’re Not in Monterrey; Everything You Wanted to Know About Agave But Were Too Afraid to Ask 

“You gotta be kidding me with this,” he muttered, staring at his phone and thinking about the half-written article he had saved on his laptop detailing the history of agave and how to experience Jalisco as more than just the birthplace of tequila. 

He pulled up Sarah’s number and dialed. 

“I don’t know how we can compete with this,” he sighed, when she picked up. 

“We’re going to have to adapt,” she said. “You know that. I can hear you making a face." 

"I don’t want to blog,” he complained. “I like print." 

"I know,” she sighed. “I’m working on it. Anyway, I’m glad you called, I was going to call you. I need you to go to Italy. Flight leaves tomorrow." 

"No way. Not interested,” he told her. “I just got back to my apartment, Sarah, I’ve been in Mexico for a month. I’m beat." 

"It’s not my fault that you spend half your time on extracurricular activities,” she teased. 

“You can just say sex,” he said. “I won’t be offended. And it’s not half my time. Like, maybe twenty-five percent. Anyway, I get the job done." 

"Yeah, and you’re very good at it, which is why I need you to go to Italy,” she said. 

“I’m not saying yes,” he told her, “and I’m not interested. But what’s in Italy that’s so important for me to get to?" 

"You’ll love this one,” Sarah promised. “It’s a food festival." 

Okay, maybe he was a little interested. "Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said. His phone buzzed in his ear. “I just emailed you the details. Including your flight info." 

"Dammit, Sarah–" 

"Oops, emergency, the printer’s on fire, gotta go!” she chirped, and the line disconnected. 

Yeah okay that’s Parker huh

Yep!

I do know y'all a little bit. 

“Dammit,” Will said again, and opened Sarah’s email to read up on his next destination. 

+ 

The food festival turned out to be a week long international celebration of local food from around the world. It only happened once every few years in October, when a world of people descended on the city of Torino, and more specifically the park by the River Po, where they set up tents and stands and served pretty much every kind of food you could imagine, and Will loved food and could imagine a lot, so that was saying something. It was pretty cool, seeing all these people from all over the planet showing off food that was important to them, sharing it with strangers. It really was the whole planet, too, the way the park was set up you could walk through a continent at a time, with all the countries on it represented at their own space. He figured he’d pay his respects to the hosts first and start with Italy, which was definitely the largest section. Halfway through the displays he found a stall with some folks from Campania selling fresh mozzarella di bufala the size of his fist for a Euro. It was speared on a stick like a candy apple so he could walk around with it, nibbling on the sweet cheese as he checked out the festival’s other offerings. Aged cheeses covered in mud and straw from a little town in France. A swanky tent with wood plank floors where the Filipino agriculture offices had a set up with big displays dedicated to traditional food and heirloom crops. Six different kinds of wild rice were layered in a glass display bottle in the booth dedicated to Indigenous agriculture in North America. There were folks from the Yucatan peninsula displaying cured meats and wild honey. There was a whole series of displays about preserving, protecting, and raising Maasai red sheep, from Kenya. The whole event was really impressive, actually, and even though his body had no idea what time zone he was in, he didn’t feel too tired– although that might have been more because he’d been downing every cup of coffee from anyone selling it. 

Okay, this actually sounds pretty cool. But now you gotta fake a whole food festival like this if we ever use these aliases. 

I don’t have to. That’s a real thing. Happens every couple of years. I was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the next one. Parker can probably find us a job after, anyway. 

I’d love– like that. 

Hardison. HARDISON.

Why isn’t this deleting the things I tell it to delete??? 

Ooh, forgot to tell y'all, this chat records your keystrokes? You know. Just in case you happen to type something sappy about how much you love me, and then delete it before you send it in the chat. Pretty much exactly what just happened. 

Dammit Hardison I’m gonna delete YOU

Baby, that doesn’t even make any sense. 

im w hardison on this 1. it’s ok if u love things eliot. especially food . or us 

Just let me finish reading Hardison’s make believe story so I can get back to dinner prep, ok? 

(he loves us) 

I know :) 

Will strolled around the park, snapping photos here and there, jotting down notes. He talked to folks from all over who came here to run their country’s booths, locals who had come out to enjoy the day, and people who had traveled long distances to be there. After a couple of hours and a really good lunch, he found an unoccupied bench near the river and posted up there for a while, notebook open next to him as he flipped through photos on his phone, the story he could tell about this event already starting to take shape in his head, and he had to admit, at least to himself, that Sarah had been right about this one. Nobody else on their staff knew food enough to get this right. But even though he had a good idea where to start, he couldn’t help feeling a little overwhelmed, too. You could spend two weeks here and still not talk to everybody, and it seemed important to try, somehow. 

“Well, well, well,” said a voice, and Will looked up from his phone and his notes to see the tall form of none other than Jeremy Edwards. 

“Dammit, Edwards,” Will swore. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Again?" 

Yeah it’s pretty much EXACTLY like that every time

Mmmhmm. You talk a big game, man, but no one here believes you. 

What he said ur like that stuff u put on the dessert u made 4 us last wk

Stuff on dessert– the Italian meringue? You really comparing me to Italian meringue?! 

Is that the stuff that was kinda hard and crunchy on the outside but actually really soft and sweet inside? 

Yep that’s the stuff

This is the worst conversation we’ve ever had. 

It’s weird how I can hear you smiling right now, though.

Shut up, Hardison, I’m reading.  

Got him! XD 

"Looks like it,” Jeremy said. He took a seat next to Will on the bench, despite the fact that Will had absolutely not fucking offered it to him. He grinned. Will looked back at his notes before he smiled back. “We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this." 

"Yeah, well, trust me, I’m working on it,” Will grumbled, and risked a look at Jeremy again. Still handsome, and still smiling, unfortunately. He thought about the blog a little and made himself frown. “So, you’re here to blog about this, huh? How many blog posts have you done already?" 

"None so far,” Jeremy said, scratching his chin, “but I am working on one right now. Tentative title, How to Tell The Guy You’re Casually Seeing And Have Been Chasing All Over the Globe That His Boss Sent Me Here To Work With Him." 

Well, there was a lot of information there, but Will decided maybe sticking with the professional stuff was better for now. "I’m sorry, you’re here for what?" 

Jeremy shrugged. "Sarah really liked that collaboration thing she got us to do last year, I guess, wanted to try it again for this. I said yes. It’s good for your magazine and it gives my blog some credibility with all you snooty print folks." 

"We’re not snooty,” Will said, although that wasn’t exactly true. Maybe they were, a little. He unlocked his phone and saw the email from Sarah, the subject line of which read: “DON’T ARGUE IT WILL BE GOOD FOR YOU/US/THE MAGAZINE.” He sighed and looked back at Jeremy. “I can’t believe she sent you to a food thing." 

"I’m offended,” Jeremy said, although it didn’t much sound like it. “I know food." 

"Oh really? So last year when we were in Beijing and you were looking for a McDonald’s that was just you knowing food, huh,” Will drawled.

“Sometimes you just really want a Happy Meal,” Jeremy joked, and Will just shook his head.

“I guess we should figure out what we’re doing, then,” he said, and Jeremy raised his eyebrows. 

“About the story,” he said, “right?" 

"Yeah, about the story,” Will grumbled. 

“Whatever you say,” Jeremy said affably, just like always. 

+

It was actually pretty easy to figure out how to cover the festival now that he had a partner in crime. They worked out a plan that afternoon, sketched out a couple of pieces, a collab for Adventure., a short guest piece for Will on The Travel Geek, and a short story in the magazine for Jeremy. Sarah signed off on everything from afar– “What time is it where she is? Does that woman ever sleep?” Jeremy asked, as they both got email after email. “I don’t think she does, man,” Will laughed– and they got to work pretty quick. There was plenty to do and they were both here for a few days, so they wandered through the park as they worked, stopping occasionally to sample food or take photos.  Eventually they walked all the way out of the park and into the city, up to a big plaza, Piazza Castello, in the center of the historic part of town. They got gelato from one of the many carts set up nearby for the festival, and sat outside, eating and talking as the sun set. 

It was nice. It was always nice, when they ran into each other. That wasn’t the problem. But they’d been stuck in the same routine for years now: they’d find themselves in the same place, Jeremy would laugh, Will would pretend he was annoyed, and then they’d spend a good chunk of their time together enjoying each other’s company in as many ways as they could find, and then they’d head to the airport and go their separate ways. And that was that. This shouldn’t be any different, but somehow it was. Maybe it was the sunset lighting up Jeremy’s skin, or maybe he’d just been lonely too long, but maybe they needed to figure out what they were doing with more than just the stories they were here to tell. 

“You wanna get dinner?” Will said, before he could talk himself out of it. 

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, smiling again, and this time Will let himself smile back. Just a little.  

They asked around for recommendations and ended up at a little restaurant in the city, a few blocks from the Piazza. They split a bottle of wine, a margherita pizza, and some perfectly fried fish, and they didn’t really talk about work at all. 

“You know,” Jeremy said, about halfway through the wine, “not for nothing, but I’ve gotta say, this looks and feels a lot like a date." 

"I wasn’t under the impression that you’d be opposed to that,” Will said.

“Oh, I’m not opposed,” Jeremy told him, “I’m just a little surprised you’re asking. I figured at this point it was gonna have to be me who said something." 

Will eyed him carefully, thought back to a lot of nights on a lot of trips. "How long exactly have you been waiting around?" 

"I mean, don’t get the wrong idea, here, I haven’t been pining away for you like some Victorian in a bad novel,” Jeremy said, and Will snorted. “But yeah. I played a long game, man. I gotta say, though, after that fishing boat incident in Guyana I really thought you figured out we had a thing." 

"Yeah, well, I didn’t have time to notice, I was too busy taking pictures of you hiding behind that skinny British guy when that big old fish jumped out of the water,” Will snickered. 

“Big old– that thing was two-hundred and thirty-four pounds of ichthyological torpedo headed straight for yours truly,” Jeremy said, and Will chuckled. “Big doesn’t really describe it.”

“Hmm. It was kinda wild he thought we were gonna get in the water with it,” Will mused.  He winked. “Glad you finally remembered you owed me dinner for keeping him from pushing us into the river." 

"Ha. You know Sarah wants us to work with that guy again, right?" 

"Aw, hell,” Will said. “Really?" 

"Yeah,” Jeremy confirmed. “She said she was gonna talk to you about it when we got back from this. Canada this time, so when Mister Fisherman tries to throw me in the water at least the hypothermia will probably get me before the monster fish does." 

"Nah,” Will said. “Don’t worry about that. Nobody throws you off a fishing boat. Except maybe me. No. Well. Maybe. No,” he concluded. 

Hah. I mean, okay, that does sound like me. 

Oh, I am aware, trust me. 

“Sarah maybe also mentioned we might do a few more of these little…collaborative things,” Jeremy said, drawing invisible circles on the table. “Maybe even in a more formal capacity." 

Will raised his eyebrows. "No way she talked you into giving up the blog." 

"Oh, definitely not,” Jeremy said. “But funnily enough, people keep sending me emails about wanting a print version of some of my photographs? But I don’t really have the publishing connections. A magazine, though…” he shrugged. “Me and Sarah figured we might come to some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement, somehow. Might be seeing more of you, is what I’m trying to say." 

"Can’t say I mind that,” Will said, and reached out across the table to cover Jeremy’s hand with his. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Jeremy answered, and this time Will didn’t try to hide his smile. 

/end 

Okay? 

Okay, what? 

Well where the hell is the rest of it? 

What rest of it? It’s clearly implied that they’re dating now. They’re dating, they’re happy, they’re gonna work together for real, happily ever after, et cetera. 

they should have at least kissed. i would be into that 

This is what I’m saying. Where’s the resolution, here? 

Baby, anytime you want a kiss, you know where to find me. 

What I want is for you to take this seriously since you’re making us read all of it. 

Wow, okay. Here: 

They walked around the city for a long time after dinner, still holding hands, and the kiss they shared later under the moonlight felt like a promise. The Actual End. 

Y'all happy? 

too sappy 4 me but idk what eliot thinks

Not your best work but it’ll do, I guess. 

Are you still in the kitchen? 

Yeah, why? 

I’m gonna come give you a demonstration of my best work, that’s why. 

Bring it on, man. 

do i get a demo too

You know it.

[siren1song]

For You

Summary: Logan and Roman are celebrating five years of marriage and get so incredibly distracted before they're even able to work on their plans for the day.

Warnings: None I can think of

Pairing: Logince

Word Count: 1,683

General Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @another-sandersidesblog, @strawberryjellystuff, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @gr3ml1n-loser, @firey-alex, @orca-iguana, @spooky-scary-virgil, @yalltookmyurlideas, @sanderssidesweirdo, @stormypaint, @just-a-little-bit-gay-oops, @dying-is-a-hobby, @rose-gold-roman, @the-angry-ship, @rosesisupposes, @just-perhaps

Notes: Birthday fic for @main-chive. Ren you’re an amazing person ilysm

Commissions!! | Buy Me a Kofi!! | Join Casper’s Crew!! | Ao3 Link!!

There was so many things Logan loved about his husband. He could try to list them, but then he’d be stuck in bed with Roman’s arm thrown over his waist and head on his chest while Logan himself stared at the ceiling all day.

Well… he’d say the rest of the week but Logan wasn’t really one for exaggeration.

Maybe he’d list the top ten things and then get out of bed to make his love some breakfast? Learning to cook had been going well, and Logan didn’t want Roman to be the only one to make meals.

Alright, that sounded like a reasonable compromise. How to order this list though?

As Logan was trying to figure out if he wanted to go in descending or ascending order of some of his favorite things about Roman, his husband grunted in his sleep and shifted until his head was tucked just under Logan’s chin.

No particular order then.

“One,” he started, whispering softly as he removed his hand from behind his head to run his fingers through Roman’s hair, “incredibly adorable when sleeping.”

“Are you making lists while I’m trying to sleep again?” Roman mumbled, his voice hoarse but still full of amused affection at Logan’s actions.

“Yes, but this time the list centers around you. Surely that gives me a free pass?” he asked, unable to help the lift of the corners of his mouth, his heart metaphorically melting in his chest.

“Mmm, I suppose. The first one was calling me adorable?”

Logan chuckled, eyes tracking his husband as he shifted to supporting himself on his elbow so he could look down at Logan properly.

“Yes, when you’re sleeping you tend to get as close to me as possible and it makes me feel incredibly ‘mushy.’”

Another hum from Roman that turned into a yawn where he leaned back a little too far and landed on his back in the bed next to Logan.

“What’s the list then? All the features that make me the most attractive? You better not forget my love handles. Or the mole on my chin. They’re very important to how pretty I am.”

Gods above and below, Logan loved this man.

“And your surgery scars, and your crooked teeth, and your acne scars. Everything about you is beautiful, love. The list is some of the things I love bout you, in no particular order.”

Roman hummed (a little more successfully this time) with a little smile from Logan’s praise of his looks.

“No order this time? You usually try to at least go in ascending from least to most.”

Logan sat up, back pressed against the wall as he watched his husband with a soft smile.

“Yes well, pardon me for being unable to figure out any one thing about you I love more than anything else.”

Narrowing his eyes, Roman tilted his head in Logan’s direction, not doing much else to move.

“Are you buttering me up for something love?”

There was a snort, and Logan rolled his eyes.

“Have you forgotten it’s our anniversary we’re going to be going to the sunflower fields Janus has been taking care of?”

Roman shot up at the reminder, grin bright as his eyes locked on the closet.

“Oh, I can’t wait to wear the sun dress and sun hat I bought for this trip!”

Logan chuckled, mentally listed Roman’s enthusiasm for fashion at number two, and then prepared himself to leave the bed.

“Alright, you get dressed, I’ve got my own things to do to prepare.”

Roman waved him off, rolling out of the bed, slapping his chubby stomach in excitement a few times before going to the closet.

Gods above and below Logan loved that man.

At number three, Logan put Roman’s stimming with his own weight, and then he left the room to go take a shower before he got started on breakfast.

While he was getting dressed, Roman knocked on the bathroom door to get his attention.

“Yes dear?”

“Would you plug in the curling iron before you leave the bathroom? I want to be a little more feminine than usual today.”

Logan smiled, glancing towards Roman’s basket of hair products.

“Of course, love. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Thank you!”

When Logan was dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a blue tshirt he left the bathroom (having plugged in Roman’s curling iron and noting the closed bedroom door) and made his way to the kitchen.

He was going to do his best to make a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage. Hopefully nothing would burst into flames this time.

“Logan, love, what are you doing?” Roman asked, entering the kitchen dressed in a beautiful sun dress that really complimented his body and his sun hat in his hands.

Looking to the eggs Logan was currently trying to save, he sighed.

“I’m attempting to cook breakfast. I managed the sausage and bacon, but at one point the eggs started to burn and I’m not entirely sure how to fix it.”

Roman’s smile was amused, and Logan knew he was doing his best not to tease Logan’s lack of skill in the kitchen.

“I’m flattered by the attempt love, but it’s not my birthday, today is a day for both of us. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll remake the eggs.”

Logan sighed, giving Roman a grateful smile as he sat heavily in his usual chair.

When Roman pressed a kiss to the top of his head, Logan’s heart swelled with affection and he couldn’t resist bringing his husband down for a peck on the lips.

The giggle Roman responded with only made Logan want to kiss him again.

“If you distract me with kisses we’ll have to get take out for breakfast,” Roman said, another giggle escaping his throat.

“Alright, I suppose your right. I’ll distract you with kisses after breakfast. Janus will have to tolerate us being a little late.”

His husband snorted, moving over to the stove to work on fixing Logan’s mistakes.

“We’re always late to everything on our anniversaries. Can we be on time for once?”

Logan let out an offended gasp, taking his years of watching Roman being dramatic to heart to really sell the fact he’s not at all offended.

“You would rather we skip out on our tradition of loving kisses and you trying to get away from my attempts to tickle you?”

Roman looked over his shoulder from where he was getting the pan ready to soak to get the burnt egg off easier to give Logan a look of exasperated fondness.

“As much as I love your kisses, I would like to cut out the squirming away from you jabbing your fingers into my sides from our “anniversary traditions,” love.”

Logan hummed, resting his arm on the back of his chair and his chin on top of it.

“Alright then, I suppose. I have other ways I can get you to squeal in that adorable way of yours.”

His husband huffed loudly, but Logan saw his smile as he turned back to the sink and turned off the water.

“You live to embarrass me. Five years of marriage and you have no respect for the love of your life? Honestly, Logan.”

Logan was about to retort, but the number got stuck in his mind, distracting him while he watched Roman work.

Five years. He’d been married to the most wonderful enby he’d ever met for five years. What a thought that was.

“Love? Logan?”

Logan hummed, blinking a little to get his mind back to the present and to stop counting the years in moments of Roman making him absolutely fall.

“You spaced out a little bit. Are you still trying to finish that list from earlier?” Roman asked, glancing at Logan while doing his best to keep his attention on the food he was making.

“Ah, no, actually. I think I forgot to continue that list after number three,” was his answer, smiling sheepishly when Roman gave him his full attention for longer than a few seconds.

“You forgot to continue a list after only three items?”

Laughing at his husbands shock, Logan stood from his seat so he could wrap his arms around Roman’s waist and press a kiss to his temple.

“In my defense, there’s so much to love about you I couldn’t figure out what to put next. You’re amazing in so many ways.”

Roman leaned back against him, shifting the eggs in the pan.

“Not in every way?”

“I love you, but nothing can redeem your blanket hogging habits or your inability to not sing awfully whenever a “meme song” comes on.”

With a snort that Roman tried his best to hide, he looked up at Logan with a grin, kissing his cheek.

“I don’t sing awfully, I sing to irritate you. There’s a difference.”

“What would that difference be, love? To scream in varying pitches that do not work well together?” Logan asked, leaning back a bit to give Roman a disbelieving look.

Roman’s cheeky grin was soon taken from him as he looked back at what he was cooking.

“The difference is you like my singing normally. So I have to make myself sound as bad as possible in order for you to get irritated because you know just how exquisite I actually sound.”

“Ah yes, of course, how could I be so misinformed? Clearly singing awfully and irritating me are two entirely different things.”

“Exactly! Glad you’re open to learning from your mistakes.”

Logan laughed, stepping back from his husband and shaking his head as he sat back at the table.

“I would say your insufferable, but I agreed to suffer you for the rest of our lives five years ago. So I suppose that would be an inaccurate statement.”

“Yep!”

As Logan rolled his eyes, he couldn’t help but think that he may not have been able to finish his list of things he loved about Roman, but he could tell that his favorite thing about his husband was Roman himself.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

There would be a joke here about interrupting your regularly scheduled programming, but what even is that on this blog anymore? Je ne sais pas.

I wrote a fic for yet another fandom because I don’t know how to stay in just one! So, if anyone watches Deadly Class...

Rats’ Waltz

Rating: E (NSFW BELOW THE CUT) Pairing: Petra Yolga/Billy Bennett Chapters: 1/1

‘The Lady in Red’ played itself out and Petra let her arms slide down from Billy’s shoulders. His eyes darted nervously and he clasped a hand around his opposite wrist, throttling it. She wondered what was going through his mind. She’d always thought she’d known, before, but it was so different with him here in front of her. His words, the way he’d said he loved her, were easy to brush off; dismissing Billy and everything he was… that would be impossible after they’d danced, holding each other like that. If she wasn’t careful, he was going to figure out that she had a heart after all.

“How do I look?” she asked, watching his face steadily as his gaze zoomed down the length of her dress and shot back up to her eyes. It was mercury in a thermometer plunged into boiling water. It was the last ride on a condemned rollercoaster.

Billy’s laugh came out mostly through his nose.

“Like a princess.”

Petra pinched his bicep, hard, and he flinched away, almost dancing again, but more like the frantic, mosh pit shit that he and Lex practiced. The kind of dancing that god intended the populous to headbang along to.

“We could burn it off,” Billy suggested excitedly, fishing from his back pocket the lighter that had recently unleashed Lex’s pyrotechnic mayhem on the sky over Kings.

“Ah,” Petra halted him. She laid a soothing hand over Billy’s jittery one. “Good in theory, but I’m pretty sure one of those Sweet Home Ala-bitches got me with a blast of hairspray, and I’d rather my head didn’t go up in flames.”

She raised her hands level with her temples and made an exploding gesture, complete with sound-effect. Billy lowered his chosen instrument of chaos and Petra watched his nimble fingers push it deep into a front pocket of his pants. His hands were nice; she hadn’t really noticed that before. Then again, the chunky cast on his forearm generally arrested the eye.

Billy shifted, jumpy and overactive, and let out a giddy laugh.

“Me too, unless it’s metaphorically. I support your punk-given right to be a rage monster.”

Petra offered a tender half-smile.

“You had that handled tonight. You stood up for me.”

“It was retribution,” Billy said, sounding psycho-tough and stabbing a pointed index finger at the floor.

“It was anarchy.” Petra grinned. “And it was beautiful.”

He jerkily shrugged his shoulders.

“What’s a Rat got ‘cept other Rats?”

She nodded.

“You look out for your own. Your own,” Petra repeated, fainter, and reached up to cup Billy’s cheek.

He was too soft―not his face, though she doubted he’d ever shaved out of necessity―believing that she wouldn’t yell sike! or pull some other shit to punish the trust in his eyes. After she’d already hurt him, hurt him on purpose at Shabnam’s party. She was clearly bad for him and he was bad for her, a bad alliance in a place like this, not exactly hell, but maybe the clammy space between hell’s toes.

She kissed him because that seemed like a better idea than waiting to see if he’d do it first.

Billy pulled her back in, following her with his mouth when a breath snuck between them. Petra could feel him shaking, but she didn’t exactly know how to touch him. Damn green-mohawk’d livewire. He was so the opposite of casual.

“You’ve done this before, right?” she checked, drawing her face back from his.

“This this?” He puckered his lips to demonstrate kissing. Petra’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh,” Billy said, “this. Yep.” His vigorous nodding told Petra he’d caught on.

Yes, she meant sex, and yes, she knew he wasn’t a virgin. The way she’d asked probably made her seem like she didn’t know, but shit, it was supposed to have come out ringing with mockery, not soft and insecure. Ugh, she sounded tragically preteen.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” she snapped at him.

Billy’s jaw tightened and Petra felt the whole scene teeter at the edge of a cliff she hadn’t known they were on. He’d say something about Viktor and then she’d get defensive and shut him out and then he’d get frustrated by the ineffectiveness of the way he always tried to break down her emotional walls with a battering ram even though this had never worked in their entire history and then―

“Do you… have something to contribute?” Billy asked, rocking on his heels.

Petra got her nostrils to un-flare from her pre-emptive surge of anger.

“I haven’t,” she said shortly. Less words meant less room for feelings to leak out of the corners of her mouth like drool when the dentist took too long prodding at your molars. Jesus, when had she last been to a dentist?

Billy’s features showed exaggerated confusion: forehead rumpled like bedsheets, eyes wild, etc. Petra sighed.

“Done this,” she clarified, her eyes careful on his. “Not with anyone who mattered.”

“Viktor was…?”

“There. He was there. Frankly, I’d rather get the taste of him out of my mouth sooner than later. Metaphorically,” Petra added when something caught fire behind Billy’s eyes.

“Look, we can forget all about what I said before, ok?” His confession at Shabnam’s was what Petra took this to mean. Billy laughed awkwardly, self-consciously. “Things don’t have to be that intense between us, but I also don’t wanna be mouthwash.”

“It came out wrong,” she admitted, inexplicably pissed at herself for having to apologize for something. “You wouldn’t be mouthwash.”

“Well… good,” Billy decided. “I’m a person, Petra.”

“You’re a cold-blooded lizard-man if you don’t shut up and kiss me again soon.”

“Shit,” he laughed, hesitantly cupping the sides of her head like he thought she might knee him in the nuts. Honestly, it still wasn’t completely off the table. “I know you’re not exactly overflowing with emotions, but there is this thing called romance.”

“I don’t do romance.” She hoped her eyes hadn’t just gone as wide and dreamy as it felt like they had. Fuck.

“Guess that’s all on me then.”

As his face tilted towards hers, Petra anticipated a kiss that came down hard and hungry, like the one she’d given him. Apparently, that wasn’t how things went when Billy led. She should’ve learned from the dancing.

His lips brushed hers and something deep inside her jerked loose like a vending machine dropping a soda. Petra felt fizzy. Their mouths hadn’t fully connected when Billy’s tongue skated slickly along her lower lip. What the hell. She could feel this getting her wet; normally it took several minutes of her chosen paramour’s determined fingering (post- several minutes of her determined instructions) to do that. It was her body throwing her words back at her, a reminder that no one else she’d messed around with had mattered. What a disturbing revelation though. Not only did she have feelings for Billy, she was also hot for him. The hits seriously just kept on coming.

Moaning was inevitable when Billy’s tongue stroked fully along hers and dragged it back into his open mouth. Petra half-mourned the fact that the Nazi she-devils hadn’t played dolly right down to her underwear, because the ones she was wearing were still her own and they were going to be a bitch to hand-wash with bulk-bought soap in the communal ladies’ room. A soft “uh” sound found its way out of their interlocked mouths and her hands gripped the front of Billy’s shirt. Instead of pulling back the way Petra dreaded he might, he moved his hands down from her hair, rubbing the back of her neck. Thank god he hadn’t given her some innocent startled face. Not a good complement to how badly she wanted to ride his thigh.

Petra stayed close, pressing both palms to his chest. Well, what a pleasant surprise―this skittish little skateboarder had the gentle swell of non-steroid-enhanced muscle under here. Lean but firm. Felt like his body had adapted after so many rounds of combat class, even if his brain hadn’t. (Petra rarely saw him win a bout. He just wasn’t great at anticipating his opponents.) As she ran her hands across his chest over his t-shirt, Billy dropped his straight to her ass. Kind of amazing that he could find it under the fucking puffy dress. Petra assumed the credit went to some inherent ass-finding skill only present in teenage boys.

He pulled her in, which was when she felt his erection. Again, the dress had been deceptively puffy because, against Billy, all that fluff compressed in a manner usually only observed in spray-cheese. Petra’s heart thrummed and popped like a bassline.

“We can’t get caught,” she said, drawing back to give him a dead-serious look.

Billy rolled his eyes.

“No shit.”

“After the poisoned darts tonight, which we are definitely getting nailed for at some point, we can’t afford any more trouble from the Man.”

“Yeah, babe, talk socialist to me.” He chuckled, kissing her neck, but Petra pried him off. “Ok, ok! You’re right.”

“We can’t stay here,” she said, beginning with the obvious. “Somebody’ll be back to clean up once they get those lowlifes medical attention.”

“Can’t go to the dorms. Roommates.” His grasp on her ass loosened as he thought; it was kind of cute how Billy looked when he concentrated. Ugh, god, no. Focus on the problem, Petra.

“Plus someone would hear us and either go for snitching or blackmail.”

“Oh yeah? You think you’ll be loud?” He grinned.

“I may have left my weapons in my other ball gown, but I can still break you, Bennett,” she warned.

“Promise?”

Petra grabbed his hand and yanked, heading for the door. She stopped short of dislocating his shoulder, but she knew Billy got the message.

“So, where we goin’?” he hissed as they glanced left and right, slipping out into the hall.

“The Rats’ Nest.”

Dumb name―the bastard offspring of their group’s label and a ship’s crow’s-nest―and it had stuck since whichever Kings’ class hooligans had invented it. It was a room on the roof, where all the Rats hung out. Not a stairwell or storage, the rooftop shed was their pinnacle, their dirty confessional, their canvas for graffiti practice. Mostly, it was where guys got their first blowjobs and girls got their first sour taste of the patriarchy. It would do.

“Grim,” was Billy’s assessment. Petra wouldn’t and couldn���t argue, but it was what they had.

“Yeah, I won’t be lying on that floor. Hope missionary’s not your favourite position.”

“Have you wondered?” he asked sleazily as they climbed the stairs to the roof.

“No.” Yes. “But then again…” Petra glanced at Billy over her shoulder. “…everything about you screams ‘submissive,’ so maybe not missionary.”

He bounded up to get ahead of her, swinging the door open.

“Is that what you want?” Billy let the door close slightly so that she was delayed right next to him.

“What?” She was confused and it was better self-defence to wrap that confusion in barbed wire and come off irritated instead.

“Do you want me to be…” He glanced down, practically jumping in place as he bounced on the balls of worn sneakers. “…submissive? Is that what you like? Petra,” Billy said, suddenly staring her right in the eye, “tell me what you like.”

Her eyes widened in discomfort, almost giving her a headache, and she pushed past him, stepping out onto the roof. Clear night tonight. Not even a lingering hazy of smoke from the boys’ cheap firecrackers.

“Fuck off.”

“Ooh, you’re so scary.”

Billy danced around in front of her, walking backwards as she strode ahead.

“Why do you want both of us to feel like shit?” he prodded. “Downstairs… we were… We were getting somewhere, dammit. What do you want from me? You want me to like you, then hate you, then like you, then hate you! Do I have to say it again?”

“Just get in the Nest. I’ll blow you if you’re lucky,” she said dryly.

Billy backed into the little room’s door and crossed his arms.

“No. I love you.”

Petra sighed impatiently.

“You wanna get laid or not?”

“Be a bitch all you like,” he said. “I’m still going to make you see this is worth something. That’s why I want it to be good. You’re not helping yourself by putting that mask back on.”

She clenched her hands into firm fists, but when she went to hammer one into Billy’s chest, all the force went out of it. Her knuckles just barely dug into his skin. His heart pounded back from underneath. They didn’t stare at each other long before Billy surged forward and kissed her.

“I love you, Pet,” he mumbled against her mouth.

“A light touch,” she offered, meeting his eyes as he drew his face back to look at her. “I’m tired of being used and abused.”

“Light touch,” he confirmed. “Got it.”

Petra took one last look at the stars, then reached around where Billy had leaned away from the door and yanked it open by its stiff handle. They entered and he found a box filled with broken bottles to keep the door ajar for the luxury of late-night, city sign light and fresh air. It still smelled like beer and something even funkier, though thankfully not like urine as the only Rats nasty enough to piss up here (all males, go fucking figure) considerately did so off the edge of the roof, hitting the occasional unsuspecting pedestrian.

Billy was watching her and Petra felt insulated with him for the second time tonight, though the first had only been an illusion provided by the music.

“This is a good idea,” he told her.

“The best.”

They were kissing again and Billy was up to his old tricks, getting every little bit of feeling out of her lips and doing it as tenderly as possible. She was insane for liking him this way, Petra realized, because only liking him was going to make her life hell. It would torment her days, find her in her sleep. He’d be kissing her like this in her dreams, the prick. She knew he would.

His hands were gentle too. Clutching at her waist, but moving eagerly to her breasts when Petra tugged the top of her dress down. (Her attackers had declared that the black straps of the bra she’d had on completely ruined this wedding cake vision they’d made of her. Like the rest of her other outfit, she bet the bra was currently bobbing in a toilet bowl.) She wondered if guys could really be like this, on the condition that they were sufficiently surprised to be getting what they wanted…

Nah, they were trash. But not Billy. His hands were warm on her as they dug inside the dress and cupped her boobs. Petra inhaled sharply through her nose when his rough thumbs circled her nipples with inhumane slowness. Her breath came loud in the small space. It felt as though they were miles from the school, or anything.

Billy gave her a last, firm kiss on the mouth, then continued pressing them into her yielding skin; up under her jaw, down her throat. Her heart beat hard. Like a total amateur, Petra gave herself away by grabbing the back of Billy’s mohawk when he smoothly licked over her nipple, but he didn’t get aggressive. He was the perfect gentleman, if that’s what you called the spastic boy you took to the blowjob spot. He was her new definition, anyway.

“Touch me already,” she blurted.

He laughed.

“Just trying to do what you said.”

“I said light, not slow.”

“That’s part of the romance,” Billy informed her, hiking up the hem of her dress.

“It sucks.”

“Thank you.”

He ran his palms up the outside of her thighs and she got goosebumps. Trying to stay calm, Petra put her hands on his shoulders―a stabilizing gesture.

“You seem taller,” she said nervously. Billy just smiled in confusion.

His hands brushed very gently over her hips and the ratty black lace of her underwear. They were a little old, but Petra hadn’t seen any she liked as much as these, and she wasn’t just going to steal cheap ones. She had standards. Better standards for what went on her body than who went in her body, most of the time. But then, tonight, she was getting it on with Billy while wearing something so truly hideous that Petra would’ve tried to murder herself if she’d been someone else and seen her wearing it.

“You look really beautiful. Nothing to do with what they did,” Billy clarified, palms rubbing over her hips, dress frothed up outrageously between them, “just… your face.”

She exhaled as he snagged her panties around hooked fingers and dragged them down.

“Lift your feet,” he requested.

“Why?” she asked, already doing it.

“Well, it’s not like the ground’s spotless and these…” He bent and retrieve them as she stepped out. “…cover a pretty sensitive area.”

It was bizarrely intimate to see Billy holding her undergarments and Petra glared so as not to blush. Prick.

“What am I supposed to do with them now? I’m lacking the over-teased heap of chemically-enlarged hair that I assume Brandy uses to solve feminine problems such as these.”

Billy shrugged.

“I’ll keep ‘em,” he offered cheerfully, stuffing her wadded up underwear into the back pocket of his pants.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Just for right now.”

“Or longer.”

“For as long as you last,” she taunted.

“I will give you the opportunity to renegotiate possession after you’ve seen me last.”

Petra let out an exaggerated, sarcastic gasp.

“Gosh! Really?”

He smiled and then leaned into her, pinning her firmly to the wall. She was pretty sure Billy felt her smile when they kissed, so she bit his lip to balance the scales. Once again, he somehow knew she didn’t mean it and was not deterred. That was how Petra realized she hadn’t broken Billy’s heart properly back at the party. Or maybe she had and he was just a quick healer. The rough cast pressing into her shoulder was a decent reminder.

“When do you get this off anyway?” she asked, touching the cast, then grazing her fingers up the black sleeve covering his arm above it.

“You almost sound like you care,” he accused, grinning and raising his eyebrows. Petra gave him an acid look.

“I’m asking for the sake of my own comfort, dweeb. If we do this again, I don’t wanna feel your plaster digging into me. Shut up,” she said to his awed expression. “I said ‘if.’”

Billy smiled and went back to kissing her. Petra kept her mouth tense and unyielding, but only for a couple of seconds. If Frenching was the kind of thing they graded at this wacko school, this idiot might actually come top of the class. She gave up on just going through the motions and fully gave back to him everything he was giving her, her arms folded around the back of his neck. Billy moaned a little and tilted his hips into her.

“Go ahead,” she panted, breaking away.

He pulled his face back just far enough that her eyes didn’t un-focus when they looked into his. Lowering one hand, then the other, he bunched the skirt of the world’s ugliest dress back into position. She could feel the texture of his pants against her thighs, but he kept his hips back now. Staring steadily into his eyes, Petra leisurely unwrapped her arms from around him and caressed down the front of his army-green T-shirt. Billy shivered and she smirked a little. She popped his button and unzipped his fly without glancing away from his face. He, meanwhile, was doing an exemplary job of not ogling her boobs. The heat from his crotch was practically enough to toast a marshmallow by, but Petra didn’t touch him yet.

“You first,” she dared.

With a visible swallow, Billy fisted the material of her skirt in one hand and slipped the other beneath it. Tentative fingertips located the poke of her hipbone. She didn’t know if he was aiming high and right on purpose, or just curious about her. Petra wondered, for a second, what it would be like to have her entire body touched by him. She wondered how it would be to touch his. The Rats’ Nest was no place for total nudity, unless you wanted to see what kind of diseases you could contract.

She stepped one foot outward, then the other. Billy took a shaky breath and inched his fingers down to cup her. It nearly killed her―worse than being stabbed, poisoned, strangled, or any of the other shit that had been done during real fights or just over the course of gaining the stellar education Kings was supposedly providing. This absolutely asshole! With his unhurried tenderness and goddamn reverent expression. Petra’s head knocked back against the concrete wall. He hadn’t even done anything yet. This was all the mere fact of his hand’s position; feeling it and knowing it was there.

The large studs on the cuff around his wrist were cold when they made contact with her abdomen, but she was pleased to have him holding her closer, more securely. It was almost like claustrophobia―this light-headedness in a small space―as Billy’s seeking fingers spread arousal over her clit. Petra thought he might mock her for being so wet (it was something she might have done, to pierce the atmosphere choking her with meaningfulness). He didn’t.

If it was up to her to play the mean card, she’d have to make a crack about how hard he was already, how desperate. Except it wasn’t funny, even in a make-fun-of-him way, when Petra gripped Billy through his underwear. He let out a shuddering exhale, clamping his eyes closed and flashing them open again a second later.

“Could you lay off that for a second?” he requested, sounding a little lightheaded himself. “This is kinda already too good to be true, and I don’t want to prematurely ejaculate all over our, you know―”

“Romance,” they said at the same time. (His tone was a little less sarcastic than hers. Ok, a lot.)

Billy grinned and kissed her with a swift peck that bumped Petra’s skull against concrete. This was still Billy, after all. But then, yes, he did have some surprises.

“I hope your hands are clean,” she said seriously as she moved her fingers to his ragged belt loops and he rubbed a little faster across her clit.

“I went to the bathroom right before we stormed the dance, and I always wash my hands. I’m a classy guy.”

Petra snorted out air, but her inhale was all moan. He was hitting her just right. She hadn’t… she hadn’t even told him what to do. If he’d just stroke the tiniest bit to the left. God, he did it.

“What’s your secret?” she gasped.

“Huh?”

She shook her head to tell him nevermind, because she was coming, stretching up on her toes in the stupid shoes that were the only things between her feet and a dirty needle or ancient glob of gum. Billy rubbed more forcefully―and swore significantly more forcefully than that―to pull her through the orgasm and out the other side. Petra didn’t specifically remember closing her eyes, or letting her head slump forward to rest on Billy’s shoulder, but evidently, those things had happened, because here she was, breathing his scent off his T-shirt.

Slowly, he removed his hand, wiping his fingers on the ass of his pants. Petra’s eyes were wide now, staring hard at nothing as she kept her head down for a minute longer, mentally getting a hold of herself. He’d touched her lightly, like she’d said. He’d paid attention to her response and adjusted his technique (though it truly baffled her to think of Billy having a technique for anything―except maybe rolling a joint) accordingly. What could she do… what could she say to that?

“I lied,” Petra admitted. She raised her head and pushed her hair the correct amount off her face.

“Well,” Billy began, smoothing a hand down her arm, “if it’s about something that’s gonna tear my heart to pieces, could you maybe save the truth for later?”

“I like rough and fast,” she said, holding eye contact. “In the past, I’ve tended to be the dominant partner because guys see the black hair, and the black clothes, and the black makeup, and that’s who they want to think I am because they don’t give a shit about who I actually am. But I’m not some Goth fantasy who wants their sexual experiences to revolve around teasing out some asshole’s kinks―a surprising amount of time literally involving their assholes. And I hate light touches,” Petra added. “Usually. Except not with… I guess not with you.”

He was staring at her. He wouldn’t quit staring at her. She was going to have to drive the heel of her horrible shoe into the top of his foot. Then he did something worse than the staring. He said her name, softly.

“Petra.”

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck like she had when they’d danced and kissed him. He held her―tight, then tighter. Something was surging inside her and it wasn’t the desire to maim that she constantly felt around almost every person inside the building they were standing on top of. This whole thing had been a very dangerous fever dream.

They were kissing fiercely and it terrified Petra, but it was a horror she wanted to wrap herself around. She tasted it, her tongue twined with Billy’s, and nothing had ever been sweeter. Restless, she twisted with and against him, getting her hands to his hips. They broke the kiss wetly and abruptly. Petra stretched the band of Billy’s underwear away from his abdomen, then yanked them and his jeans downward. He leaned back―just his upper body.

“You want me, take me,” she said. “I want you to.”

Billy nodded rapidly and Petra found herself nodding back. She was turning in his arms as he quickly lifted her heinous skirt again. His hand came around, feeling her waist, then dove down, seeking her from the front as his hot erection prodded from behind. With less reluctance than she would’ve had not high on lust, Petra slapped her hands to the well-tagged wall and tilted her hips back. Billy quickly drove in. He was blunt and spontaneous and he started to say something, but Petra reached back and covered his mouth. No apologies necessary for giving her this. She returned her hand to the wall as he dragged back out.

“Oh, Jesus, Petra.”

His breathing sounded shivery. He bucked forward and she stretched into the feeling. Finally, Billy gave up on keeping her dress out of the way and grasped her hips with both hands.

“Please,” whipped out of her mouth before she could press it into her arm. Arms were useful tools for self-defence, physical or verbal, but she didn’t want the first kind and the second had just failed her.

Billy thrust harder and Petra’s eyelids closed briefly as her eyes rolled back. On the next forward swing of his hips, she met him in time and they released an obscene duet of pleased moans. God, they’d circled each other for so long―him: bouncing up and down, her: still and largely silent. Now, Petra considered that she shouldn’t think so harshly about his neglect to anticipate attacks. She’d been blind here. Blind, blind, blind.

She struggled to keep her eyes open. Her nerves were catching and sparking like exposed wiring, hands tensing into fists before she flattened her palms back out on the wall. Billy was in the grips of his desire. He had one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her body to his, and the other making the descent to her clit, which was not so easy now that he was pounding into her, shaking them both. Petra felt his hip bones when he thrust inside and held himself there for a long second. It seemed like he was pushing as hard as he could, feeling all of her, every time. Her spine felt like he’d scratched a match straight down the length.

There was a desperate noise, a needy whimper, and Petra couldn’t place it.

“I know,” Billy told the sound. “I know, I know.” His voice cracked into a groan of craving that made her squeeze around him greedily. “I can’t… much longer.”

Petra dropped one palm from the wall and fumbled for his hand, settling his fingers optimally on her clit. He scrubbed violently and she came in seconds. Yes, he listened, and no, he did not fuck around. The orgasm left her reeling and quaking. She couldn’t tell if she was hot or cold, up or down. Billy kept stroking at her until she moved his hand away. Somehow, their fingers stayed tangled together as he tucked this arm around her too, hugging her from behind. The texture of the cast didn’t matter so much now.

“No condom, I’m guessing,” Petra said as dryly as she could while he continued to do things to her that made her jump and angle her hips for more.

“When am I ever ready for anything?” he panted, laughter just underneath.

She thought quickly as Billy’s thrusts grew shallow.

“On the dress,” she said.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He pulled out and Petra turned quickly to face him, smoothing the skirt down for a change, to ensure it received the most coverage possible. She was less prepared for watching Billy jerk himself off, and apparently, so was Billy, his eyes a little wild and afraid. Petra slowly looked him up and down, then reached out and slid his t-shirt up his stomach to see more skin. He didn’t stop stroking.

“You look good,” she said, holding his gaze carefully.

Billy’s eyes clamped shut and his forehead crumpled. Petra guided his free hand up to her breast; he gripped. She felt a wave of flush go over her skin as he released in a jagged jet along the skirt. The top was undone anyway, so Petra wriggled out of the rest of it while Billy leaned into her, then hauled him close. She was naked, apart from her shoes.

While her hands climbed up his back under his t-shirt, Billy hiked his pants up and delicately tucked himself back in. Then he fell against her the last tiny bit of the way, his weight pushing her to the wall. Petra laughed and stroked the back of his mohawk flat, then clawed it back the other way with her fingers.

“How long are you gonna let me hold you?” he asked after a minute, speaking into her hair.

Petra turned her face to his shoulder and smiled.

“Until I think of some other way to cover myself. I’m not putting that dress back on.”

“Oh!” He let go of her. “Hang on.”

With a twitchy motion, Billy shrugged out of his black button-down shirt. It got hung up on his cast, so he rotated his arm while tugging the sleeve; Petra stood there, arms crossed over her chest. Shyly, he extended the shirt to her and she slipped into it, noticing him completely turn his head to look away. She buttoned it up. The fact that the shirt would cover her ass solved part of the problem.

Billy’s gaze squiggled over her quickly when he faced her again. His mouth tensed, probably trying to contain a smile. With a steady hand, Petra touched his cheek and lightly kissed his lips.

“I know how we get you out of here,” Billy said, his smile appearing slowly, at the same speed his eyes opened as she drew back.

He reached an arm back and hooked the neck of his t-shirt from behind, tugging it awkwardly over his head. When he got his elbows trapped and started to flail, Petra assisted his escape.

“How is this helping?” she checked, unconsciously clutching his shirt to her stomach.

“Streaking, Pet!”

“Oh god,” she groaned, but as she thought about it, she knew it would work. Mr. ‘I Climb Over Tables Instead of Walking Around Them’ was good at attracting attention.

She gave a half-nod, but Billy was already yanking his pants down, too committed to his harebrained plan to think about her agreeing or not. He caught her looking as he lowered his underwear.

“Next time,” he informed her, “we’re doing my favourite position.”

Petra was still trying to deaden the look in her eyes and keep her gaze over his left shoulder. She sighed heavily for effect.

“Fine. What is it?”

He grinned.

“Missionary.”

Startling herself, Petra let a laugh burst out and shoved Billy by the shoulder, almost toppling him as he idiotically attempted to remove his clothes without taking his shoes off. (Not that she blamed him for keeping protective footwear in place. Fucking Rats’ Nest.)

“You’re not serious,” she shot back.

“You’ll find out.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and straightened up. “Uh, can you hang onto these for me?”

She accepted the rest of his clothes, wadded into a sloppy ball.

“The panties, uh…” Billy floundered.

“You’ll get them back with everything else,” Petra promised. What the hell.

He grinned again.

“Also, next time, condoms.”

She raised an eyebrow. Not at his second use of ‘next time’ though. For Petra, that had been decided before she’d hit the first orgasm. Maybe even before they’d gotten up to the roof.

“You’re not actually going to buy them, are you?”

Billy scoffed, swinging his arms, naked apart from his sneakers, already almost in motion.

“What do you take me for? Some capitalist dupe? I’ll steal ‘em like a good boy.”

“What a relief,” she said.

“What is?”

“Just, you.”

He blushed.

“’K, if we ever wanna do this again, I gotta run.” Billy sprang forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Love you, Petra. Gimme a head start.”

She stood in the Rats’ Nest doorway, holding Billy’s clothes, and watched his bare ass as he bolted for the stairway. He flung the door open and pounded away down the stairs screeching ‘London Calling’ at the top of his lungs.

Glancing at the dress she’d intentionally walked across on her way out, Petra smiled wickedly at the thought that she could come back up here and burn it. Maybe bring Billy.

Quietly, she hopped the box of broken bottles and ran to the stairs, heading for her dorm. Billy’s voice was echoing everywhere. She wondered what trouble she was going to have to help him fight his way out of when Master Lin picked his punishment. Moron just had to be a hero.

[travelteatv]

On a bit of a whim, Hamilton and I recently booked a trip to Quebec City during Air Canada’s flight sale. It was just for the weekend (flying out Saturday morning and leaving Sunday evening) and we were super excited for the trip to get us into the festive mood. It’s an absolutely stunning place with a lot of history, making it a perfect weekend break.

I had been once before, in late April (a few years back), at which point it was still -1, yep -1 in April. I’m also pretty sure it snowed. This should have got me thinking about the fact that in December, it was definitely going to be somewhat colder than -1.

Nevertheless, ever the optimists, we discussed our plans of meandering around the city, exploring the beautiful European style streets in Old Quebec City and then slipping into some of their fantastic restaurants/bars when our feet got tired.

… While we were there, it was (real feel) -24 degrees. I’m not exaggerating. As I’m sure many people are thinking “this is winter in Canada, what were you expecting, you nincompoop?” (or probably similar words to that same effect) Well, in all honesty, not -24. It had been around -2 in Toronto and at times, around -8. I’m aware it gets much colder in January/February but come on, it’s only just December. Thankfully, many people confirmed with us in Quebec that this was an unusually cold weekend and it didn’t normally get that cold at that time. So basically, we weren’t complete idiots, we were just unlucky.

I’m prefacing this post with that information mostly, in all honesty, in the hope that you will respect all of the exploring that Hamilton and I did actually manage despite the conditions. Perhaps, you’ll even commend us with some kind of brave travellers award. I’ll wait. Plus, a warning in case you are intending on visiting Quebec City during this time – it is possible and it is enjoyable but my goodness, it is cold.

Anyway, I’ll get on with the post now.

  SATURDAY

I would first like to say that regardless of what I wrote above, we had a great time in QC.

As well as the quaint streets it is known for, there are lots of churches and beautiful buildings to see in the area which we did wander past but didn’t go inside, plus a Museum of Civilisation but in general, it is just a lovely place to walk around even though it is absolutely freezing. I don’t think there’s enough to do for a week long trip unless you start looking at things outside of the city but for a weekend there is the perfect amount to do and at this time of year, there are plenty of decorations up, music playing, ice skating, santa’s grottos and even some carol singers, which I think makes it a great alternative to a Christmas Market, if you’re looking for one.

CITADELLE

We arrived mid morning on Saturday and got dropped off just outside the Fairmont. From there we trudged through the snow, down to the Citadelle and across the Plains of Abraham, where you can get a great view of the St Lawrence River (which I was surprised to see wasn’t frozen, by the way).

After being outside in the wind for about 30 minutes, we on the other hand, were freezing cold so we rushed down the road and into Le Cafe de Paris. It’s a really sweet little cafe that does bites of food, as well as hot drinks and alcohol. We skipped the food and went straight for Baileys Hot Chocolate. It’s something we always used to have when skiing because it really warms the cockles and having alcohol with a hot chocolate makes drinking at 11am feel a little bit more acceptable.

OBSERVATORY

Once we were back up to normal human temperature, we headed back out into the freezer and up to the Observatory which I really recommend. A) It’s inside and B) It has great views of the city. What I found strange though, was that even on a day like that, it was completely empty. Most of the time, we were the only people up there. All the staff were super friendly, I think because they were glad to have someone to talk to, but it was nice and made for a very inviting atmosphere at what we thought was going to be a big, busy tourist attraction. It only costs $14.75 to go up and you can use that ticket as many times as you want in one day, so you could go up at lunchtime and then return to see the sunset if you wanted.

One thing though – the lift is absolutely terrifying. I’m not scared of heights or anything, it’s just the fastest lift I’ve ever been in. Hamilton and I both genuinely nearly fell down when it started moving. Thankfully we were the only ones in there and no one else saw this happen but good god, there should be a warning.

After that, we braved the cold once more (I think we were getting acclimatised to at this point because it didn’t seem too bad) and walked towards the old town. The day was getting on by this point, so we also stopped for a bite at a snack bar, which I can’t remember the name of but it was cheap as anything and they had huge portions. I mean, it felt like a waste in all honesty because I could barely eat it but that’s hardly something to moan about.

QUARTIER DU PETIT CHAMPLAIN

Until this point we had barely seen any other people walking around the streets and assumed it was because it was so cold, they didn’t want to go outside. As we then got into the quaint streets of the old town we realised it was actually just because they were all there. I guess a lot of people come on day trips, see the famous streets and then leave again.

View this post on Instagram

Back from our weekend in beautiful, snowy Quebec City and feeling exceptionally Christmassy right now! Blog post coming soon ✨

A post shared by Abi – TravelTeaTv (@travelteatv) on Dec 10, 2018 at 9:44am PST

  HOTEL LE SAINT-PAUL

Once we had our fill of pretty streets and cold toes, we checked in to our hotel – Le Saint Paul. It is situated by the old port, which makes it a great location. We really enjoyed our stay there but I must say, it was confusing as hell. The reception area kind of seemed like it was under construction, even though I don’t think it was. From that, we assumed our room was going to be a bit crappy, then we got up there and had our minds blown – we had a suite. And it was massive. It had both the biggest bath and bed we had ever seen, plus a big TV, coffee machine and a great view. It also had a shower, which was surrounded by glass meaning if someone showered, you could just see them. We both agreed that it would be great if you were there on a romantic stay but for us it was just a bit weird. If either of us showered/had a bath, we just stayed facing the other way watching TV for the duration.

CHEZ JULES

Now, Quebec is known for having great food, so we looked into this ahead of time and booked a table at Chez Jules. Our reservation wasn’t until 8pm, so we first got a drink around the corner at D’Orsay, on Rue De Buade. On the same road, is a Christmas shop that I believe is open year round where you can buy a myriad of random Christmas decorations and items (like the Santas below), so even if you aren’t in QC during the holiday season, you can still get festive.

Dinner. Was. Amazing. We got a carafe of wine, main meals and then a dessert, and it honestly didn’t break the bank. Nonetheless, the waiters treat you like royalty and it feels like quite a fancy experience. There are of course, fancy fine dining restaurants in Quebec City where you can have that but if you don’t have the money, Chez Jules is a good alternative.

  SUNDAY

OLD PORT MARKET

Breakfast was included at the hotel, so we got up at about 9 and went downstairs, then put on basically all of our clothes and walked across the road to the Old Port market. It’s open year round but at this time, it was a festive market so had a mix of food, handmade goods and Christmas gifts/decorations on offer. It felt very local, wasn’t filled with tourists and had a very chill atmosphere. It made me think about how nice it would be to live somewhere like that and wander down there on a Sunday morning to pick up some fresh food for the day.

  Sadly we do not live there though and our day continued. We walked back through the Quartier du Petit Champlain and up the steps to the Fairmont. Warning – QC is pretty damn hilly. After living in Toronto, which is exceptionally flat, my legs were likely jelly from walking round Quebec.

FAIRMONT LE CHATEAU FRONTENAC

Right by the Fairmont, is a toboggan run and it is the greatest. It’s only 3 dollars per person per ride, so about £1.80 and is open to adults and children alike. You do have to pull your own toboggan up to the top but that’s part of the fun. The run is actually pretty bloody fast, so we screamed the entire way down and we were absolutely freezing but it is such a great activity, I could not recommend it more.

Plus for the adults, once you’ve done that, you can go into the bistro (Sam) at the Fairmont right next door and treat yourself to a stiff drink in luxury surroundings. Top tip (that we learned the hard way): the view from the balcony of the bar is amazing but you need to book to eat in order to sit there. We sat at the bar because we didn’t book but the waitress said you don’t need to have a full on meal, you can order something small and it’s still ok to sit there.

  LE CLOCHER PENCHE

We only had one quick drink at the bar before we had to rush off for our lunch booking at Le Clocher Penche, which was a 30 minute walk (in the snow) away but the food made it worth it. For a set price, you get a hot drink, starter and main, plus great service. We really lucked out with the places we picked for food, I won’t lie; we don’t always book food places but seeing as we were only there for two days, it made sense to pick some nice places to ensure we got to go to them and that we didn’t have to wander the streets figuring out where looks nice.

After this, we had kind of seen everything we wanted to. I think if it was warmer, we would have gone back to the little streets in the old town but we didn’t feel the need to, so instead we crept into a bar and stayed there until it was time to get to the airport for our flight.

  What are your favourite things to do around Christmas time?

  Abi

X

@travelteatv 

      A FESTIVE WEEKEND IN QUEBEC CITY On a bit of a whim, Hamilton and I recently booked a trip to Quebec City during Air Canada's flight sale.

[racingtoaredlight]

Degenerate’s guide to college football season 2018 week 8 tv watch ‘em ups

I’m not about to make this a Michigan Wolverines blog but I’ve got to say it warms my heart the way Jim Harbaugh has risen back up in the rankings after being left for dead a few weeks ago. And now he’s facing the football avatars of the sickly Michigan State University so I kind of feel a pull towards rooting him on.

I can’t do that. I would be murdered by my wife and her family. But I might do it.

There’s other stuff happening but with Navy and Miami both effectively dead in the water I’ve already fallen into the mode of only hoping for chaos. There are so many teams that I wish ill upon.

See below for details!

Times are eastern. You can guess whatever else. I might be around to watch with you and I might be outside taking advantage of temperate weather in the desert.

Saturday, October 20

Matchup                                           Time (ET)                 TV/Mobile

Auburn at Mississippi                    12:00pm                     ESPN

Mercifully this one gets rid of itself quickly. Both these teams are bad and the rumors they are a-flyin that Gus Malzahn has all but announced his retirement. Or quitting or whatever. I don’t know if he means to quit coaching altogether or just wants out of Auburn. The racist south lost their best player but he’s a WR and they have three more superstars in that position group. Expect everything to happen and all of it to be inexplicable.

Buffalo at Toledo                             12:00pm             ESPN+ / WGRZ

If things break a certain way, Tyree Jackson could be the #1 quarterback in the 2019 draft. I think he’s probably third at best but somebody could really fall for his potential. Is he closer to Josh Allen as a prospect than he is to Andrew Luck? Absolutely. But imagine the delightful disaster that could be the Giants taking him in the top 10 and then thrusting him into starting duties before he’s ready. The franchise could never recover and isn’t that what we all want? The line has swung towards Buffalo to the point where they’re now favored. Maybe don’t bet this one, though.

20 Cincinnati at Temple                   12:00pm                    ESPNU

Things are setting up nicely for Luke Fickell to return to Ohio State as head coach.

Illinois at 23 Wisconsin                    12:00pm                       FS1

Paul Chryst has a whole season he needs to resurrect if he’s going to live up to his surname. To start he needs to beat the spread against shitty Illinois and that means he needs to beat the hell out of Illinois. The betting public does not trust him to do so but I sort of do. Wisconsin by 40.

Maryland at 19 Iowa                          12:00pm                     ESPN2

The most depressing healthcare story in football comes to the most heartwarming stadium in football and hell if it doesn’t seem like Maryland is the better team, records aside. The spread is shrinking and so is the over under. I don’t feel safe predicting much for either team in terms of outcome but 44 total points? That looks like free money.

Miami (Ohio) at Army                         12:00pm                   CBSSN

This game is crap.

6 Michigan at 24 Michigan State        12:00pm                     FOX

The capacity is limitless for each of these teams to fuck up to the point where you’re not sure whether they mean to play football or not. If I were you and you were betting, I as you would take Michigan State to cover +7.5 and pound the under (40.5.) 

Northwestern at Rutgers                     12:00pm                      BTN

Holy hell this is almost a MAC game.

9 Oklahoma at TCU                              12:00pm                      ABC

Wouldn’t that just be so Gary Barnett to beat Oklahoma right now and kind of fuck over the Big XII Conference. Oklahoma fired their DC last week and here they are favored by 7.5 on the road with an O/U of 61.5. The average total of a Big XII conference game is 94.3.

Tulsa at Arkansas                                 12:00pm                      SECN

Arkansas has started showing signs of life and I don’t know why and I really don’t know why they’re playing Tulsa right now.

North Carolina at Syracuse                  12:20pm               Raycom Sports

If you are unaware, the ACC is full of bad teams this year. UNC might just be the worst of the bunch. So of course they’re going to beat Syracuse today.

Virginia at Duke                                      12:30pm                RSN/ESPN3

The straggler of the early slate is a soul crusher just by listing the teams. UVA is coming off a big upset of Miami that has the Miami faithful, er, questioning their faith. Duke has only 1 loss and a terrible QB who has an odd distribution of hype.

Bowling Green at Ohio                           2:00pm                      ESPN3

Good job by Bowling Green to be bold in a bad situation by firing their coach. 1-11 just feels better without all the extra questions.

Idaho State at Liberty                              2:00pm                      ESPN3

Go Idaho State.

Florida Atlantic at Marshall                     2:30pm                   CBSSN/FB

Luther Campbell’s favorite coach is favored in the road for reasons unknowable. Bet on Marshall here.

Utah State at Wyoming                            2:30pm                      ATTSN

Utah State is a darling of computer rankings and they’re favored by 14 against Wyoming. I’ve got no advice to pair with these things.

Charlotte at Middle Tennessee                3:00pm                      ESPN3

I defy any one of you to offer a cogent expression of expectations for this game.

Eastern Michigan at Ball State                 3:00pm                      ESPN+

Look at all this stupid goddamn MAC football.

Western Michigan at Central Michigan    3:00pm                      ESPN+

At least it’s all happening at once and I won’t see it.

Akron at Kent State                                    3:30pm                      ESPN+

None of it.

1 Alabama at Tennessee                           3:30pm                        CBS

Tennessee got their first conference win in 2 years last week and this week they’ll be slaughtered.

Coastal Carolina at UMass                         3:30pm                     ES/NESN

This is an absolutely perfect weekend to skip football watching.

Colorado at 15 Washington                        3:30pm                        FOX

This is an OK game but it shouldn’t be a contender for best of the week. Brutal slate of games.

Houston at Navy                                           3:30pm                   CBSSN

Ed Oliver had 5 TFL, including 2 sacks, last week. You’d think that would be tough to duplicate against a Navy team that never throws but in two previous games against the Middies Oliver has 25 total tackles, 5 TFL and 2 sacks. He’s a defensive tackle. I understand why he isn’t going #1 overall next year but he should probably go #1 overall next year.

16 NC State at 3 Clemson                               3:30pm                     ESPN

GAME OF THE WEEK! CONTRACT THE ACC!

18 Penn State at Indiana                                  3:30pm                      ABC

I’m not just saying this because I hate Penn State - that 14.5-point line is mighty tempting to bet the Hoosiers. I wouldn’t take Indiana to win but that’s a lot of points to give at home against a team that hasn’t really played up to their rep so far this season.

Kansas at Texas Tech                                       3:30pm                       FS1

My prediction is lots and lots of turnovers from both teams and a final score that’s very disappointing for anybody that roots for and/or bets for the Kansas Jayhawks.

Louisiana at Appalachian State                       3:30pm                     ESPN+

Minnesota at Nebraska                                      3:30pm                     BTN

Our collective dream of an 0-12 season for the Cornhuskers is going to get a serious challenge this week from a pretty bad Minnesota team that isn’t so far away from questioning their own expensive coaching hire.

SMU at Tulane                                                      3:30pm                  ESPNU

The fuccponi’s travel to New Orleans for a debauch and a football game. As far as gambling I wouldn’t touch this one but if you want to see some interesting offensive concepts get in now on Tulane’s modern-ish twist on an option offense. They don’t have any high level talent to speak of but somebody with more to spend is going to scoop up Willie Fritz in the near future.

UTEP at LA Tech                                                  3:30pm                   ESPN+

You aren’t going to see Louisiana Tech favored by 24 over a lot of teams but UTEP isn’t just any shitty team.

Wake Forest at Florida State                               3:30pm                   ESPN2

Florida State is a lot closer to being good again than most people realize. Vegas has noticed and has FSU favored by 10 this week. The rest of you will notice when they beat Notre Dame next week.

California at Oregon State                                    4:00pm                Pac-12N

This is a great Pac-12 After Dark game that is seriously undermined by an early  afternoon start.

Memphis at Missouri                                             4:00pm                    SECN

Drew Lock versus Darrell Henderson in a key RTARL-American cross conference matchup.

Georgia Southern at New Mexico State     6:00pm     11 Sports / AggieVision

SEE FOOTBALL THROUGH THE EYES OF AN AGGIE WITH INCREDIBLE NEW AGGIEVISION VR GLASSES!

22 Mississippi State at 5 LSU                               7:00pm                    ESPN

This is the kind of shit game you can set your watch to. Both of these teams are ranked and, I guess, deservedly so. But that doesn’t mean you should expect good football out of them. Montez Sweat is one of the best players in the country this year and he’s somehow going to get 3 sacks in this game but also lose by 15. Yep, I’m predicting an 18-3 final score.

Texas State at ULM                                                7:00pm                    ESPN3

They got the degenerate part down pat for this one.

10 UCF at East Carolina                                         7:00pm                  ESPN2

The nation’s longest winning streak gets tested by... Whatever. Sometimes ridiculous things happen and ECU winning wouldn’t compare to Old Dominion brutalizing Virginia Tech a couple of weeks ago in terms of insane upsets.

  UConn at 21 USF                                                    7:00pm                   CBSSN

USF and UCF are barreling towards a huge end-of-season showdown and UConn shouldn’t really put up much of a fight here. The Bulls are favored by 32.5 at home and it would honestly be a big disappointment if they don’t beat the spread. One of my favorite things each week the last couple of seasons has been seeing the hilarious final scores of UConn games.

UTSA at Southern Miss                                          7:00pm                   ESPN+

I don’t like this ESPN+ nonsense one bit. Because I haven’t ever figured out what the hell it is and a game like this screams out for the CBS Sports or FOX regional treatment.

Fresno State at New Mexico                                   7:30pm                  ESPNU

ESPNU, on the other hand, I understand. This trash is in its perfect place as a game you put on the tablet to stare at some bullshit while whatever you actually are watching is at commercial.

North Texas at UAB                                                  7:30pm        beIN SPORTS

Oh, hell yes. This is beautiful. I’m rolling with the UNTs +1.5 and over 54.5.

2 Ohio State at Purdue                                             7:30pm                ABC

I find Ohio State football to be deeply and eternally unsatisfying. I can’t count on them to win or lose the way I like. Oh, well, as long as Dwayne Haskins keeps racking up 5 or 7 passing TDs a game they can do whatever the hell they want in every other facet.

Old Dominion at WKU                                               7:30pm              ESPN+

If ODU can finish 1-11 this season we are all winners.

12 Oregon at 25 Washington State                           7:30pm               FOX

I hate the national scheduling making this start in daylight hours but I love everything else about this game. Both QBs were on the RTARLsman list this week as one is the legitimate best QB in the country and the other is leading the country in most counting stats.

Rice at FIU                                                                   7:30pm               ESPN+

Holy crap does Rice suck. This is better left out of sight out of mind.

Vanderbilt at 14 Kentucky                                          7:30pm               SECN

Kentucky being ranked in football is unnatural and bad and I hope it stops soon.

USC at Utah                                                                 8:00pm               Pac-12N

No idea what to expect from either team and I still don’t think of it as a conference game but I find these two uniforms to be aesthetically pleasing.

Arizona at UCLA                                                         10:30pm            ESPN2

Now that UCLA has won a game I don’t know what to do with my hands. I kind of want Sumlin and Kelly to work out for at least a little while in the Pac.

San Jose State at San Diego State                            10:30pm            CBSSN

SDSU isn’t the best they’ve been in recent vintage but SJSU is an abomination of a team that might just be the worst in America. Classic degenerate watch ‘em up. Sometimes San Diego State wears cool looking unis and the contrast between their shiny maroon and black should be very nice against San Jose’s blue, yellow and white.

Nevada at Hawaii                              11:59pm     Spectrum/Nevada Sports Net

Hawaii disappointed me greatly last week but I still love them eternally just for playing so late when they’re at home. This is kind of an ugly uniform matchup but it could still be a fun, wild and crazy game between middling teams that do cool stuff on offense.