#Like. lewis was one of the first people Ridley met after all

[chaos-squared-house]

a very totally not late Day 6- Family Photo

I adore the concept of Lewis being an honorary member of the Gales, but also think that there isn’t enough content of Lewis and Ridley’s dynamic specifically within that context. :3

[princessphilly]

Hockey Fic Exchange: Second Chance in Chicago

This is for the @hockeynetwork​ winter gift exchange. I was matched with my friend, @texanstarslove​ and it was relatively easy to give her what she wanted. 

Title: Second Chance in Chicago

Player: Jonathan Toews

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 6410 words

 March 2007

“Wouldja look at that? There’s the future NHL star, looking like the dork he is.”

Lizzie stuck out her tongue as Rachel announced the presence of the asshole himself, Jonathan Toews. They were all sophomores at UND but he had gotten drafted third overall by the Chicago Blackhawks last year. Hockey ruled UND so the team already had a high profile. But this year’s team looked like it would do some damage in the tournament so all eyes were really on them.

Tonight, Lizzie and her friends had decided to go to a frat party at the Beta house. It was a cold early March Thursday night but she had been in the mood to party. Unfortunately, the party had been invaded by the hockey team.

Jonathan grinned, his deep brown eyes sparkling like he had already pregamed. “Hey ladies,” he greeted before grabbing Lizzie and giving her a hug.

“Ew!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away. He definitely had pregamed, he smelled like good old Vladimir vodka. He was going to have a fucking hangover tomorrow.

Jonathan pouted. “I thought we were friends, Lizzie,” he exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around Lizzie again

“When did you think that?”

Rachel and Bethany snickered. It was a bit of a running joke, this animosity between Lizzie and Tazer. No one quite knew how it really started except it had been a freshman year hook up that ended bad. At least, that was the rumor. Ever since, Lizzie couldn’t stand Jonathan and Jonathan did every thing possible to needle her.

Lizzie flipped her hair over her shoulder before elbowing Jonathan in the ribs. Giving him an angelic smile, she ordered, “Don’t touch me.”

Being the drunken asshole he was at the moment, Jonathan leaned down and murmured in her ear, “You didn’t say that last weekend.”

“Ugh!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away before stomping towards the keg. Jonathan shrugged as TJ and some of the other hockey players came in. She was able to avoid him for the rest of the night and even flirted with a couple of junior guys she hadn’t met. Of course, as soon as she went to get a breather from the hot party, Jonathan was already outside.

Shivering, Lizzie huddled close to the door, planning to ignore Toews. There had been a snowstorm the other day and there was a good ten inches of snow on the ground.  

“Supposed to snow again tomorrow.”

Lizzie let out a loud sigh. Of course, he couldn’t respect her silent plea to be left alone. “This is North Dakota. It’s always snowing.”

Turning to her left, Lizzie looked at Jonathan. For once, he didn’t have his cocky, self-assured, ‘I’m the one in complete charge’ look on his face. He looked slightly pensive and a bit unsure. “Here, have my hoodie.”

“I don’t-,” Lizzie started to say but she relented as Jonathan put his hoodie over her head, pulling it down. She was cold as fuck, shivering in just a short-sleeved shirt and her jeans. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome.”

They stood there for several moments, breath turning into puffs of icicles before Jonathan finally broke the ice. “Ridley, really?”

“Oh, you know him?” Lizzie tensed, UND wasn’t as big as other schools but she could at least have found someone that Jonathan didn’t already know. But then, hockey ruled here and he knew more people than her so yeah, just her fucking luck.

“He’s cool.” Jonathan shrugged, suddenly feeling nervous as fuck. It really wasn’t his area to talk, he didn’t really want to be a cock-block, but fuck it. “He’s not an asshole or anything. But we both know that’s not who you really want.”

“Oh really? Who told you what I really want?”

He hadn’t really planned to do it now; Jonathan had planned to go for it next month. But he already had told coach and his teammates that he was going pro after this season, so he might as well do it. “We have unfinished business, Elizabeth.”

Lizzie froze at Jonathan’s use of her full name.  He was the only one here at UND who ever used her full name. It brought back memories, those first weeks of spring semester of freshman year. Memories of doing things that would have had Momma reaching for her rosary and Papa yanking her out of UND to go into a convent. She bit out, “No, we don’t.”

“So, that’s why you called me last Saturday, asking me to come over after the game?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I was drunk,” she very primly replied, staring at her nails. She thought to herself, ‘I need a manicure.’

“Then last weekend, you came over and you definitely weren’t drunk.”

Lizzie shrugged, pretending she didn’t hear what Jonathan said. She didn’t want to admit the truth; Jonathan made her nervous. She was 19 and every time she was with him, she felt like this could be something that could be forever. But Lizzie had plans; she was planning to go east for law school, get out of North Dakota forever. This wasn’t the time to even think of settling down with anyone, especially not with Jonathan since he was going pro. Even though, her traitorous pussy reminded her, Jonathan made her cum better than anyone else and wasn’t scared to choke, bite, or spank her unlike other guys.

Jonathan growled, of course Lizzie would be acting obtuse. He wasn’t looking to settle down or anything serious, he was just about to turn 19 and about to go to Chicago in five and a half months to start his pro career. Jonathan did really like Lizzie a lot and wouldn’t be against putting a label on what was going on. Then, Lizzie got cold feet last year and had been stringing him along for over a year. It would be nice if Lizzie actually admitted that they had something going instead of being nasty to his face but fucking with him late at night.

“Okay, since you don’t want to face reality, I’m just going to say it. It’s not fair that you like to treat me like shit in public but you want me to fuck you when no one is looking.”

Lizzie opened her mouth before closing it. From the tone of voice that Jonathan had used, it sounded harsh. Like she was using him like a whore. But Jonathan wasn’t done.

“Don’t worry about my hoodie, I’ll get it before I leave.”

Jonathan turned around and went back inside of the party. Lizzie stayed outside for several more minutes, pensive. Then she harrumphed and rejoined the party, resolute that she was going to ignore Jonathan once she gave him his hoodie back.

**

Twelve years later

Lizzie brushed her ginger hair over her shoulder. It was weird to be ginger for the first time since she was fifteen. The past years, she had been a very faithful blonde but it was time to do something very different.

“Not bad for a rancher’s daughter.”

Lizzie twirled in her full-length mirror, admiring the way the navy-blue dress fit her body, accessorized with her diamond hoop earrings, tennis bracelet, class ring, and the brand-new patent leather heels she had managed to score on clearance at Neiman Marcus. Very much the uniform of an intellectual property litigator who had just made partner, not the yee-haw who had went to UND. But right now, as she thought about tonight, Lizzie felt like the yee-haw she tried to suppress.

Tonight, there was a fundraising cocktail hour for her firm, Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper. This would be the first one that Lizzie attended since she transferred to the Chicago office from Atlanta. She was good at gladhanding and charming people, attending Penn Law had sucked the yee-haw from Lizzie’s accent. Now, she was Elizabeth Romanelli, ready to make connections while raising funds for the Children’s Miracle Network.

Only fly in the ointment was that this fundraiser was being held at the United Center. Not only that, it was rumored that the firm was able to get a couple of players for the Blackhawks to appear. Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper did some work for the Blackhawks, mainly with local TV contracts and sponsorships. Lizzie took in a deep fortifying breath. “It has been years,’ she told herself. “There’s no need to be nervous seeing Jon again.”

She turned around and grabbed her coat. It was mid fall but the temperature dropped enough at night that Lizzie wanted to wear her coat just in case. Before she left, she looked at her left ring finger. Taking a deep breath, she slid her old wedding ring off her finger. It was a new start, time to act like it.

**

The fundraiser went pretty well, in Lizzie’s eyes. It was her first firm social event in Chicago so most of it was spent shaking hands, exchanging business cards, and talking some shop. There were a couple of Blackhawks players there, none of that Lizzie recognized. She admitted several times while in conversation, that she was more of a college hockey than pro hockey fan.

Then, the one person she was hoping wouldn’t show up, showed up. Lizzie worked hard not to check Jonathan out but he had the kind of presence that commanded attention. His hair was cut short and the once lanky frame had filled out completely. Lizzie smirked when she saw one of her fellow attendees lick her lips but she couldn’t blame her. Jonathan looked delicious in a black suit with a pristine white shirt, no tie. He looked like casual, dominant elegance in a hockey player package as he made his rounds the room.

“You’re lucky that your department doesn’t work with the Blackhawks on anything,” said the woman who licked her lips. Lizzie looked down and looked at her name tag, it said ‘Elise’.

“Oh why?”

Lizzie took a sip of her pinot grigio, waiting for a reply. Elise didn’t disappoint as she whispered, “He’s single and my law school loans say he would be perfect for them.”

She couldn’t resist laughing at that statement; Lizzie totally understood where Elise was coming from. But as soon as her laughter faded, there was Jonathan Toews, right in front of them. Elise looked up at him, obviously starstruck. Lizzie put her best courtroom face as she stuck out her hand. “Hello, I’m Elizabeth Romanelli. You are?”

Jonathan blinked when Lizzie introduced herself as Elizabeth Romanelli. She was Lizzie MacArthur in the flesh, all these years later. Grasping her hand, Jonathan said, “Jonathan Toews, but you know who I am.”

Jonathan kept his best PR smile on his face as he processed his thoughts. This was Lizzie, the only one who got away. She was a redhead now, not a blonde, but those green eyes were still the same. Deep green eyes that always brimmed with an intelligence that had made Jon feel like he was an idiot when they first met at UND.

“Oh, how do you two know each other?”

Lizzie managed to keep her expression completely neutral while Jon reddened a bit. He dropped her hand as he said, “We went to college together.”

“Where was that,” Elise innocently asked and Lizzie wasn’t sure if she was truly curious or if she was being a bit catty.

“I went to University of North Dakota with Mr. Toews for undergrad,” Lizzie said. “Then I did Penn Law.”

Elise replied, “Oh. I remember reading that once.”

Lizzie refused to roll her eyes as Jon made small talk about the hockey season with Elise. Spotting a waiter, Elise raised her hand for another glass of wine. Tonight, was looking like it was about to be long. Before she could make her escape, Elise exclaimed, “Oh, there’s Mr. Schmidt, I need to talk to him! It was so nice to meet you and talk to you, Mr. Toews, Ms. Romanelli.”

Lizzie sighed as she scampered away, leaving her alone with Jonathan.

“Long time, no see,” Jonathan said, taking a sip of his water. Tomorrow was a game night and while he enjoyed drinking, he had no interest in doing anything that would keep him out of peak performance. But looking at Lizzie, he wished he had something stronger. The years had done her good; she looked curvier, stronger, hotter. He felt his pants tighten and Jonathan thought of his smelly hockey gear to deflate his hard on.

Lizzie stroked the curve of her new wine glass before replying, “I know. Wasn’t necessarily planned.”

“Romanelli?”

“I was married,” Lizzie’s smile tightened.

Jonathan quickly replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask anything that would make you feel- “

“It’s okay, let’s not go there, okay. Before you ask, I’m a widow.” Lizzie looked down at her wine. It had been long enough that she knew she wouldn’t break down but it was awkward to talk about it with her first college hookup/almost boyfriend. After all these years, Jonathan still had an affect on her. She felt a bit lightheaded but her once dormant libido had flared up as soon as they shook hands. It was as if her body had decided that someone worthy was nearby and it was time.

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan repeated, his voice low as he ran his fingers through his short hair. It was a bit overwhelming seeing Lizzie again but he was already damn sure that he needed to see her again. As they exchanged pleasantries, Jon moved on to another group at the fundraiser. But every now and then, he made sure to catch her in the crowd.

At the end of the night, he was finally able to get Lizzie alone, again. “Now that you’re in Chicago, why don’t we go out? As old friends?”

Lizzie laughed as she waited for her coat. “We weren’t old friends and you know it.”

“But who said that we can’t be at least friends now?”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a big smile while she scoffed, “I can tell by the way you’ve been looking at me all night that you aren’t interested in being just friends.”

“How was I looking at you?”

Jonathan leaned into Lizzie as he noticed that Seabs was nearby. While he loved Seabs as a brother, he didn’t want him to have any idea of what he was planning, yet.

Lizzie batted her lashes at Jonathan before replying, “Like you never seen a woman before. I have to keep the conversation business casual but we both know what I’d really like to say.”

“Then, you should let me have your phone number.”

“Smooth, Toews,” Lizzie commented. “Very smooth.”

“I try.”

Jonathan couldn’t help himself; as Lizzie received her coat from the coat check, he helped her put it on.

“Wow, I don’t know if you’re actually a gentleman now or if you’re trying to get points,” Lizzie quipped.

Jonathan gave her an aw-shucks grin and a shrug. Despite her better judgment, Lizzie figured that it couldn’t hurt. She didn’t really know anyone yet in Chicago and it would be nice to talk to someone who she at least knew from college. But she didn’t want to openly give it to Jonathan so she took the moment to turn and grab paper and a pen from a table. Writing her number and snap down, she slid it into Jonathan’s pocket.

“There, now you can never say I never gave you anything.”

Lizzie turned and sauntered away. Jonathan fished through his pockets and grabbed the paper, grinning and laughing to himself.

**

Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit. He knew how to attempt to get a woman’s attention. The flowers were a nice touch; not too ostentatious and he was smart enough not to attach his name to them. But Lizzie knew exactly who they were from because there were exactly nineteen pink and nineteen white roses in Monday’s bouquet. Yesterday’s bouquet was a set of nineteen purple flowers that after she looked them up, Lizzie found out that they were purple columbine. Today’s bouquet involved nineteen white camelias and nineteen red chrysanthemums.

“This guy must really like you.”

Lizzie turned around to see Peter, her paralegal. He was pointing at the flowers, a pensive look on his face.

“Really? He just wants my attention.” Lizzie dismissively waved towards the flowers but inwardly, she was loving it.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Okay, whatever you say. Anyway, I have five messages from the managing partners.”

“I already know what they want and I already reviewed the files and sent them to Kristin, Jacques, and Malik. They are working on the briefs for the arbitration and they should all be done by the end of the work day. I will prep my own opening argument myself for the hearing when we are done talking. You can quote everything I just said in your email,” Lizzie stated with a smile on her face. This was her first arbitration hearing at the Chicago office with her new associates working under her. But she knew it would go well.

“But the flowers. I’d look them up, Ms. Romanelli. He’s sending you a message with each bouquet. Especially that first one with those kind of pink roses, maiden blush roses? Oh, he’s definitely telling you something.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Lizzie brushed Peter off, her mind already back on work. However, she messaged Jon later, I like jasmine, lily of the valley, the most.

The next day, there was a bouquet with yellow jasmine, lily of the valley, and red pink flowers, the number adding to 19 and a note, looking forward to seeing you tonight.

**

Lizzie was still a mystery and Jonathan was desperate to figure her out. This was their sixth date and every time he felt like he was getting closer to her, Lizzie pulled back. Jon understood but at the same time, he was getting annoyed. He was also horny as fuck and trying very hard not to let his cock dictate his actions.

Tonight, Lizzie wore a little black dress with strappy heels to dinner and all Jonathan could think of was having Lizzie wear those heels while he fucked her hard and fast. It took all his willpower to keep the conversation light during dinner as his traitorous brain filled with all kinds of dirty images. Now, they were having post dinner drinks at a place Kaner had suggested. It was very intimate, the kind of place for seduction. Unfortunately, Jonathan thought, there would probably be no seduction tonight as he stood on the wall with Lizzie.

“I intentionally wore these for you.”

Lizzie fluttered her eyelashes at Jon’s dumbfounded expression. She wasn’t dumb; she knew exactly the kind of affect she had on men. Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit; he was doing a good job of not being a stupid hornball.

“I love them,” Jonathan drawled before taking a sip of his whiskey on the rocks. He told himself to be patient, as they continued to talk but after another half-hour talking about football, Jon finally broached the subject. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Are you,” Lizzie countered. She went out on a couple of dates with a couple of different guys when the Blackhawks were out of town because, in her mind, she was still a free agent. Doing that actually made Lizzie feel more comfortable with going out with Jonathan. Not that the other dates were bad but Lizzie had to admit to herself that there was still something more with Jonathan.

“No,” Jonathan admitted. His DMs were full on all social media so he could go out with anyone he wanted if he truly felt like it. But right now, he really was just interested in Lizzie.

“That’s nice.”

Lizzie twirled the straw in her cocktail. Jonathan thought about what to say but ended up blurting out, “I still think about some of the things we did.”

“Woooooooow.”

Blushing, Lizzie bit her lip. Some of those memories had come back since she had seen Jonathan again. Some of those things that had seemed extra sinful at eighteen and nineteen were mainstream these days. Plus, Greg had tried but he didn’t have that same aura that teenage Jonathan had. Adult Jonathan had that dominant aura in spades and it was tempting.

Lizzie added, “And?”

Jonathan moved closer to Lizzie, his big body bracketing hers, his monotone voice even deeper, “You remember when I tied you up the first time?”

“That was…. interesting,“ Lizzie replied. She felt flushed, that memory now in her brain. They had been fumbling around and Jonathan had tied her up before making her beg and scream his name. But the knot had got stuck and after he cut her out, Lizzie had chafed skin on both of her wrists. “It was an interesting experiment.”

Jonathan licked his lips. He noticed that Lizzie was flushed, her body leaning towards his. It was almost heady, the tension, he could taste it. So, he decided to press into the attack.

“We’ve both grown up now. I mean, I know what I love to do in the bedroom and I’m not a teen boy fumbling around.”

Lizzie resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Jonathan’s pronouncement. Steeling her face so that she looked impassive, inwardly she was freaking out a bit. Jonathan had been pretty good fuck in college, better than the rest of her boyfriends before she married Greg. But this Jonathan, three times Stanley Cup winner and hockey superstar Jonathan, he seemed lethal.

And he knew it as he gave Lizzie a little smirk and a wink.

“Don’t worry Lizzie, no one is going to judge you now if you like a little pain. I definitely won’t. You know I liked giving it to you when we were experimenting.”

Exasperated, Lizzie exclaimed, “You’re still so arrogant! I seriously doubt you’d have a chance to fuck me again.”

Jonathan moved closer and Lizzie backed up, backing into the wall. Jonathan got close enough that Lizzie could smell his expensive cologne but far enough that she could easily move away if she wanted to.

“I don’t know why you’re still lying to yourself all these years later,” Jonathan murmured, his dark brown eyes looking black. “But I’m patient, I can still wait. You still want me and I’ve always wanted you.”

Lizzie bit her lip and Jonathan resisted the urge to groan. He had thought that he had forgotten her but just meeting her again two months ago had brought back those old feelings. Now, he was getting tired of playing cat and mouse but from what he had learned from TJ and Ridley, Jonathan was trying to be careful and tactical with his advances. He at least managed to get her to go out with him. His cock could wait.

Of course, after telling himself that, images from a decade ago filled his head. Ignoring them, Jonathan instead taunted, “Nothing to say? I never thought lawyers could be rendered speechless.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie reached out and touched Jonathan’s sweater. It was super soft and felt like it was made from the finest cashmere. She finally replied, voice low and soft, “Why am I so attracted to you? This shouldn’t really be happening.”

“Fate.”

It was a very simple reply as Jonathan grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her hand, just a brief touch of closed lips to skin. But it felt like electricity coursed through both of them. Jonathan recovered first before giving Lizzie a devilish smile. “Night, night Elizabeth.”

***

“He’s way too smooth.”

Lizzie took in a deep breath as she watched the first snowfall of the year through her office window. Rachel’s laughter at her complaint registered super loud over her ear pod.

Rachel commented, “Of course he is, he’s had over a decade of practice. I can’t believe he’s still interested; I think Jon has dated models and he could date anyone. You’re lucky as hell, Lizzie.”

Lizzie pouted as she moved away from the window. “I don’t know if I want to be lucky.”

“Well, I remember all of the sneaking around you’d did when we were in college. You had no problems fucking him in private.”

“RACHEL!! Oh, my Gawd, you knew that?!?”

Lizzie put her hand on her forehead, mortified. She thought she had been cautious.

Rachel chuckled before continuing, “No one else figured it out. But it was obvious that sparks were flying. And then Jon goes pro and you end up dating around until you met Greg. But you never were as happy as you were freshman spring.”

Lizzie sighed, feeling a headache beginning to start. “Greg, you know I loved Greg.”

“I know honey, if you hadn’t, I would have seriously considered stopping the wedding,” Rachel consoled. “And he did help you escape the ranch and your parents’ plans.”

“I’ve been a widow for 3 years and this is the first time I’ve been attracted to a man,” Lizzie blurted out. Her cheeks reddened as she realized her admission.

There was an extended pause before Rachel finally replied. “Then you should go for it. Greg wouldn’t want you to give up on sex because he’s gone.”

Lizzie flipped through the messages on her work phone as she pondered Rachel’s words.

“I gotta go, Alyssa is about done with school and the baby should be up any minute. Stop thinking and just fuck him. Just remember to put color corrector and concealer over any marks Jonny leaves on you.”

Lizzie exclaimed, “Rachel,” but she had already hung up. Checking her personal phone for messages, Lizzie grinned when she saw she had a snap from Jon. Opening the snap, she saw a photo of Jon signing jerseys and picks with a note of can’t wait to give you one.

Lizzie responded; too bad I’ll be too busy to get one for the next couple of weeks

Lizzie put her phone down, ready to focus on her work before getting a new message from Jon. I told u I can be patient.

**

Lizzie looked down at her list of pros and cons. All the pros were reasons why she should fuck Jonathan: get rid of all the unresolved tension from college, he’s an already proven great fuck, probably the best guy to be her first fuck since Greg passed away. The cons were that he was Jonathan Toews, he was famous, and he did have the ability to be an asshole. Her skeptical side told Lizzie that she probably couldn’t keep it casual but the other side was like, was that a bad thing?

Shaking her head, Lizzie pulled on a pair of jeans before putting on a sweater. The Blackhawks were back in town and last night, she went to the game courtesy of Jonathan. Lizzie had taken Elise with her and they enjoyed the Blackhawks winning against the Flames. It was actually fun as Lizzie explained some of the finer points of hockey, such as power plays, penalty kills, offsides, and the fact that all refs in all sports were absolutely awful. Tonight, she actually told Jon she would come over after they saw a movie.

Lizzie was curious about where Jonathan lived. She knew it was in an area called Lincoln Park; she lived in the outskirts of the North Side. Her student loans from law school demanded payment so Lizzie moved in the nicest area she could afford, in a gentrifying neighborhood. “Get a taste of how the rich live tonight,” Lizzie said to herself. However, she did put on a matching pair of underwear just in case she decided to do more.

**

Jonathan looked at Lizzie as the car pulled up to his place. He had been on his best behavior tonight; no sly comments, etc. after last time. But Lizzie had been cuddly during the movie and now, she… he couldn’t read her actions.

Jon entered his code and led Lizzie inside. “Very nice,” Lizzie commented as they walked through the first floor of his place.

“Oh wow, you have my favorite flowers,” Lizzie exclaimed as they walked into his kitchen. There was a vase with Spanish Jasmine flowers.

Jonathan shrugged even though he was inwardly pleased. He had ordered them this afternoon, a rush order when Lizzie said she would come over. Now she was here and he felt at a loss. His cock said to seduce her, his brain said to wait for her cues and see if she was actually interested. Jonathan grabbed two cups and got himself and Lizzie a glass of water before guiding her back into the living room.

“More movies,” Lizzie teased as she made herself comfortable on his leather couch.

Jonathan shook his head no, suddenly nervous as he cut on the TV. He didn’t want to fuck it up.

Lizzie smirked as she watched indecision on Jonathan’s face. Tonight, had been their first date since that conversation and it was obvious that Jonathan was still very interested but didn’t want to do anything that seemed pushy. Lizzie thought at first it was because they were out in public but she realized that if she wanted to actually go there again, she would have to bring it up.

“What are you thinking about, Jon,” Lizzie asked, intentionally shortening his name.

Jonathan put his arms on the back of the couch and mentally said fuck it. “Do you want to good answer or the dirty answer?”

“Dirty answer?”

Lizzie grinned as Jonathan gulped then groaned.

“I keep looking at your ass in those jeans and I want to grab it so bad,” Jonathan admitted. Lizzie looked at his big hands and she decided that tonight was the night.

“You can grab it, if you want?”

“Huh, what?”

Jonathan looked so dumbfounded that Lizzie giggled. “I said you can grab it. That’s another way of saying, you can touch me.”

“Are you sure,” Jonathan asked, locking eyes with Lizzie.

Lizzie rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand. “I came here with the full intent of getting fucked. But if you aren’t interested, that’s okay and we can hang out before I go home.”

“Oh, do you really want me to fuck you?”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as Lizzie flung her hair behind her shoulder. “I want you to kiss me, eat my pussy, maybe I’ll suck your cock, and then fuck me, if you want to get precise.”

“Goddamn,” Jonathan breathed. “Fuck, then why don’t you sit in my lap?”

Lizzie climbed into his lap before locking eyes with Jonathan again. His deep brown eyes looked nearly black and he had stubble all around his jaw. She traced his jaw with her fingers before running her fingers through his hair. His voice a deeper monotone, Jonathan murmured, “I’m not going to bite, unless you want me to do that.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie brushed her lips over Jonathan’s, once, then twice. Then she leaned down and nipped his lip. “I like biting,” she whispered against his lips before kissing him again. Jonathan’s arms came around her waist, keeping Lizzie in place as he began to take over the lazy kiss. Need stretched through their kisses, tongues interacting as over a decade apart melted away. Then Jonathan pulled away. Lizzie reached to pull her sweater off but Jonathan stopped her.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, I don’t want to fuck you for the first time in forever on a couch, at least not this time.”

Lizzie laughed as Jonathan picked her up and nearly ran to his bedroom. She didn’t even get a chance to look around and admire before he was on her. Jonathan’s hands were all over her body as he desperately kissed her. Before Lizzie realized it, her sweater and bra were off and so was Jonathan’s hoodie and t-shirt. She could feel his rock-hard abs against her body as Jonathan rolled so that Lizzie was on top.

“Your tits are still fucking amazing.”

“Thanks,” Lizzie beamed as Jonathan gently kneaded them in his hands.

He murmured, “They are still so sensitive,” as her nipples hardened quickly in his fingers, watching Lizzie’s changes in expression. “So, you’ll tell me right away if I do something you don’t like?”

“Like what,” Lizzie asked.

Jonathan lightly grabbed her throat, something they had never done before but something he had learned that he liked to do. “Like that.”

“Mmmm, this is good,” Lizzie replied. Choking was one of the kinks she had explored with Greg and that she missed.

“Fuck, you got dirtier,” Jonathan stated before rolling Lizzie under him again.

“Why don’t you stop talking and undress me some more,” Lizzie ordered.

Jonathan laughed before idly replying, “Normally, I wouldn’t let you tell me what to do but we haven’t even negotiated that yet. And we aren’t, not tonight.”

Lizzie’s giggled as she shimmied out of her jeans. But those giggles were replaced with moans when Jonathan’s fingers brushed her upper and inner thighs before stroking her pussy through her panties. “So wet for me.”

He had planned to go slow but Jonathan was pretty sure that wasn’t happening, at least not for this first round. He needed to be deep inside of Lizzie, back where he belonged. Jonathan stood up and took off his own jeans and boxers, revealing his very hard cock. Lizzie reached up and ran a hand over his cock before pumping it with both hands.

“I’m not going to last that long,” Jonathan warned as Lizzie began to jerk him off. “I want to cum deep inside of your pussy, Elizabeth.”

“Oh my God,” Lizzie breathed. There was something in the way that Jonathan said her full name, it made her pussy drip even more.

Jonathan reached into his night stand and grabbed a condom. “Be a good girl and put this on me.”

Lizzie took the condom from Jonathan’s hands and opened it. Then she guided it over his cock with a wicked grin on her face. Leaning back on her elbows, Lizzie smirked at Jonathan before sucking her lip into her mouth. “Fuck me, Jonathan.”

Jonathan growled as Lizzie spread her legs, showing him just how wet and ready she was for him. Pulling a leg up and over his shoulder, Jonathan entered Lizzie slowly, making sure she felt every inch. Lizzie moaned, her hands grabbing anywhere they could on Jon as he fucked her, slow soft strokes turning harder with each thrust.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Lizzie groaned as Jonathan gave her a harder thrust, hips grinding with each stroke.

Jonathan managed to reply, “Your pussy still feels like it was made for me.”

He was already close and Jonathan couldn’t hold off even though he could tell that Lizzie wouldn’t cum with him this time. Jonathan’s lips found Lizzie’s as he kissed her while he came. Lizzie let Jonathan ride his high out, she could feel that she was getting closer but she wasn’t there.

Jonathan slumped against Lizzie for a couple moments before withdrawing from her pussy. He took off the condom, telling Lizzie, “Stay there.”

Dumping the condom into the trash, Jonathan pulled Lizzie to the edge of the bed. Spreading her legs, Jonathan knelt in between, fingers spreading her folds. Then his tongue licked her clit and Lizzie arched off the bed. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you,” Jonathan cooed as he played with her clit. Then he dove in, licking her juices from her pussy before tongue-fucking Lizzie’s entrance. His fingers continued to roll her clit with light pressure, enough to keep Lizzie on the edge but not enough to get her to cum. Then Jon sucked her clit into her mouth and bit it very lightly, enough of a shock to get Lizzie to cum with a scream, fingers grabbing sheets to hold on for dear life. Jonathan muttered something in French as Lizzie rode out her high. Then she fell asleep with a light snore.

**

Lizzie laid on the bed, her hair fanned out around her head, body too depleted to move yet. But she peeled herself up as Jonathan was sitting up next to her, a MacBook in his lap.

“Wow, what time is it?”

“It’s a little after midnight,” Jonathan replied. He had changed into a pair of sweats and Lizzie licked her lips. He looked really good in gray sweats.

She shrugged. “At least it’s Saturday.”

“I cleaned you up after you passed out.”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a wicked grin as she blushed. “It’s been a while,” she replied.

Lizzie got up and Jonathan pointed to his left, indicating that was the way to get to the bathroom. Lizzie stepped inside of the master bathroom, still too tired to check it out. After taking care of business and washing her hands, Lizzie walked back into Jonathan’s bedroom. Jonathan handed her a t-shirt and said, “You’re too tired to attempt to drive home. You can stay here; I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“I like cumming so you don’t have to keep them to yourself.”

Lizzie gave Jon a saucy smile while he groaned.

**

Let yourself be happy. Find that guy again, the one who was before me. I just want you to be happy, don’t shrivel up and die because I’m gone.

Lizzie looked at the note, last note from Greg before he passed from non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Her wedding ring was on next to it, the simple gold band twinkling in the late winter sun.

Today was her seventh month since her move to Chicago, fifth since she met Jonathan for the first time in years. Tonight, she was going to the game, Elise going with her but this time, they were going to sit with the WAGs. Lizzie had met Jonathan’s closest friends and teammates and it was obvious that there was something happening between them. But Lizzie felt the need to look at this one more time.

“I’m going to be happy, Greg,” Lizzie whispered before putting her old wedding ring and the note in a box, setting it next to a vase of nineteen red tulips that Jon had given her. Then she pulled her hair into a ponytail, sent all work calls on her work phone to voicemail. Picking up her personal phone, Lizzie smiled as she looked at the text from Jonathan.

She wasn’t going to run this time. She was going to embrace a future with Jonathan.

[childrenofhypnos]

Chapter 38: Waking Up

Emery hadn’t passed out.

It would have been more merciful if she had. She had laid on the ground, staring up at the sky, until Wes had shambled over to her. There was yelling. She remembered moaning for Joel, for Wes to let her go so she could get Joel out of that horrible house on the hill. Then crying for Edgar until Wes told her that Edgar was okay, that he’d be okay, even though she knew he wasn’t okay at all.

Grandpa Al had shown up some time later, then Ares Montgomery, and they cleared off the other students.

Emery remembered being led back down the hill, stumbling through her headache and her throbbing leg. The brightness of Klaus’s storm had dimmed, the clouds dispersing, the night settled over Fenhallow once again. then she remembered sitting in Grandpa Al’s office staring at the edge of his desk. Wes sat in the chair beside her, his knee touching hers, neither of them saying anything. Grandpa Al on the phone, surveying the grounds outside the window. Grandpa Al hanging up and saying, “The police,” and “investigate” and “it won’t be a question—so much Dream activity tonight.”

Emery got the details from Wes later. The police came out, and so did several Hypnos cleanup crews. It was Stainer, the highest ranking of any of the cleanup crew members and now completely sober, who confirmed Joel’s death had been caused by a nightmare. Everyone in the city knew about the storm of nightmares that had cloaked the school for nearly half an hour, and news crews swarmed the campus like flies. All the students now knew most of the story. Queen Emery had a doppelgänger. Queen Emery couldn’t defeat it. Queen Emery, top of her class, had finally been knocked off her pedestal.

That such a large outbreak of nightmares had been allowed to form was a possible violation of several Hypnos State laws, but information had been kept under wraps.

“They’re calling in the head of the North American Ward,” Wes said later, when they sat together in the clinic. Emery was in her pajamas, curled against the headboard of the clinic bed. Wes had changed out of his clothes and showered, and his damp hair was curling around his head. Two nasty bruises formed around the bandage over his nose. The clinic windows were closed against the midmorning sun so that Emery could be knocked out and sleep in darkness. “Marcia thinks they’re going to try to pin it on Klaus.”

“They’re going to say he fell asleep on purpose?”

They both looked down the clinic, where Klaus lay cuffed to the last bed in the row, staring blankly at the ceiling. Marcia sat in the chair beside his bed, her back to Emery and Wes, quieter than she’d ever been.

“He knew how powerful his nightmares would be,” Emery said. “He wanted his water.”

“Hopefully enough people know that and can fight against the accusation when it comes up.”

“I will.”

“So will I. So will Marcia, and probably Lana, too.”

Emery rubbed her palms across her face. Her tears had dried, but her whole head felt like it was packed with cotton. Images of Joel spread-eagle on the ballroom floor had burned themselves into her mind. She could still hear the tearing of Morrigan’s hand through his abdomen. It had been hours ago, but it felt like seconds. It felt like she was still there, experiencing it for the first time. She stared at the empty bed across from hers, imagining Joel there. Bandaged up, only sleeping, and he’d wake up and she could curl up beside him and watch reruns of Golden Girls while he healed.

Her insides twisted horribly. She started to imagine Edgar in the bed, instead.

Edgar had not been on the news reports. Edgar had not been brought to the clinic. After Grandpa Al learned what had happened to him, he’d sent Edgar straight to the sleep research center. Emery had refused the nurse’s sleeping sand until they told her what had happened to him. The only update she received was from Grandpa Al via one of the clinic nurses: Edgar was alive, but comatose. He had killed his doppelgänger too early.

They weren’t sure if he’d wake up.

“I talked to Ares, too,” Wes said after a long moment. “I told him you shot her in the head, and she disappeared back into the Dream. He says you wouldn’t have killed her, but you probably weakened her enough to keep her away for a while.”

For a while. For a while until she was more prepared. Or for a while until she was still as weak as she was now. For a while, until Morrigan returned to kill more of the people she cared about.

Until then she would think about the fact that it was her hand, her arm, that had gutted Joel. She would think about the expression on her own face right before she did it.

When she felt herself about to cry again, she called the nurse over for her sleeping sand and left the waking world behind.

~

Her dream was white.

She stood on a snowy hill. Boots, leggings, a warm sweater, a scarf. Moscow in the distance. The air smelled like pine and gingerbread. Peace settled in her chest, still and silent. Snow began to fall from the milky white sky. She held her hands out to catch it.

“Em!”

She turned. A boy came up the hill to meet her. He had a bright-eyed smile and a bouquet of weedy red poppies. He kissed her hello, but somehow it also felt like goodbye. Snow caught in his hair. She reached up to brush it out.

He handed her the poppies. They were dead.

He coughed blood in her face.

~

Emery jerked awake, already crying. Even the clinic’s sleeping sand hadn’t been able to keep out the nightmares. The clock on the clinic wall said six hours had passed. Jacqueline, her arms primly folded beneath her head, lay asleep on the mattress, sitting in the chair by the bed. Emery half expected to see Lewis and Kris there, too, but they were nowhere in sight. Wes sat on the end of the bed, facing the room, leaning slightly on his hammer. Ridley sat on the floor beside his legs, her hair just poking up over the bedframe.

Wes had turned his head only slightly when Emery woke up.

She hid her face in her pillow and pulled the blanket over herself.

~

The outbreak and the ensuing death were news for a week. The story played on every local news channel and reporters lurked around campus, trying to interview students and staff. Apart from a few uncredited sources, no one leaked information. The Hypnos State issued an official statement saying that the storm was the result of a possible attack on the city that the dreamhunters of Fenhallow had contained to the school; the death of a Fenhallow student had occurred in the process of protecting another student from harm, a terrible tragedy that had saved lives.

Joel Cullweather was a hero.

Emery was glad that was what Joel’s parents heard, at least, when they visited the school after that night. She met them in Grandpa Al’s office, and she stood in the corner behind his desk while Grandpa Al explained what happened.

Joel’s father sobbed into his hand and his mother sat in shellshocked silence.

“Your son was a brave boy.” Grandpa Al used his warm voice, his soothing voice, the one he’d once used to get Emery to go to sleep when she’d first come to Fenhallow and was still scared of her own nightmares. He leaned on the edge of his desk, offering Joel’s father a box of tissues. Joel’s mother took one and nudged her husband until he took it. “He knew better than many of the students here what it means to be part of the Hypnos State, and he will be remembered. He saved lives. Not only that, I owe him a special debt, one that I can never repay. He died protecting my grandson.”

Joel had died protecting Emery, too, but no one could say that. If a non-dreamhunter died protecting a dreamhunter from a nightmare, then she was a terrible excuse for a dreamhunter, and should be stripped of everything she had. His death had violated everything she was supposed to stand for, everything she’d been made to uphold. But if Joel died protecting a child…

Grandpa Al said some more, but Emery had stopped listening. Joel’s mother had started staring at her. Stare at her hard, like someone who knew the unspoken truth, the secret to be hidden forever. The guilt ripped at Emery’s stomach. It had to be written on her face, as well.

When Joel’s parents left, led out by a Hypnos State counselor, Grandpa Al said, “Stay here for a moment, Em. I need to talk to you.”

She stood in the center of the room, waiting, wishing numbness could overtake her so she didn’t have to feel anymore. Grandpa Al took her face in his hands. They were rough and hot and made her flush with anger. He smelled like spiced tea.

“Your month is almost up.”

“What?”

“Our deal. A month’s worth of missions and then you can decide if you want a new partner.”

She pulled her head away from him. “Of course I want to keep Wes as a partner. He helped me when everyone else was lying and using me as bait.”

Grandpa Al flinched at that. If she had blinked, she would have missed it. He seemed to gather his thoughts, then said, “When the director of the Ward arrives, she’s going to investigate what happened here. I will report to her the entire story. She will have your termination papers served to you, and your time will begin to hunt down your doppelgänger.”

“Morrigan.”

He frowned.

“Her name is Morrigan,” Emery said. “That’s what she calls herself.”

“Doppelgängers don’t have names,” he said.

“Just because you don’t want them to doesn’t mean they won’t.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled ahrd through his nose. For the first time, she realized how tense he was. “Emery. I tried to explain this before. You’re young. This is a security matter on a scale you can’t comprehend. I didn’t want to do what I did—”

“I don’t care!” She couldn’t breathe anymore, but she yelled anyway. “I don’t care if you didn’t want to! You did it, and now Joel is dead and Edgar is in a coma and how many more people could have died tonight? I could have died tonight! You would have let her kill me!”

He started toward her. “No, Em, I would never let anything—”

Emery didn’t let him finish. She fled the room and the building, making it halfway down the quote-engraved steps before realizing there was nowhere for her to go. It was still more dangerous off campus than on. She didn’t want to be alone, but Joel was gone, and Lewis and Kris had sold her out to her grandfather and Ares, and Jacqueline—even if she weren’t still being detained for using her dreamseeker abilities—would just remind her that Joel was gone.

Emery took out her phone.

Where are you?

Wes texted back a few minutes later.

Working out so I forget how much my face hurts. Why?

Let’s get food.

He met her at the atrium of the Crossing, wearing his ratty blue sweater and some old jeans. Emery ignored the looks they got as they went in and sat down with their food in a far corner, away from everyone else.

Not far away, Kris and Lewis sat together at a table. Kris looked up when they came in. Said something. Lewis glanced over his shoulder. Both of them had dark bags under their eyes. After a moment, Kris got up and shuffled over.

“Hi, Emery,” she said, voice small and meek. It had never seemed put-on, like she was using it to make herself look fragile, but it seemed like that now. “Lewis and I—we’re so sorry for telling your grandpa about everything. We were worried about you. We thought—we thought he would help.”

“Yeah,” Emery said, without looking up from her cottage cheese.

“We miss Joel too. We’re really, really sorry.”

Kris was crying now. Emery could hear it in her voice without looking up at her face.

“Yeah,” she said again.

Another long pause. Kris shuffled away.

Wes watched her go, but didn’t say anything. Emery knew it wasn’t her fault, or Lewis’s fault; Morrigan had always been a known variable to Grandpa Al and the Hypnos State. And not just a variable, but the goal. Kris and Lewis telling Grandpa Al had only lost them some time. Klaus still would have fallen asleep. Morrigan still would have used the storm as a distraction to grab Edgar. Emery still would’ve run out of bullets.

As soon as Kris was out of earshot, Emery said, “Wes. I have to tell you something.”

She explained, as quickly and with as little emotion as she could, how they had been used as bait.

It was a small consolation that the look of betrayal on his face matched what she felt inside.

~

Joel’s funeral took place the following Saturday. Fenhallow students, teachers, and staff packed the funeral home. Yael, the ice sculptor from the kitchens. The maintenance staff who’d lent Joel their keys. Alice, the front gate guard. All of them wore the gold-and-silver pin of the closed eye of Hypnos over their hearts, setting them apart from Joel’s family members.

Only the top half of the casket was open. Joel looked like wax. Emery forced herself to it on stiff legs so she could pin Hypnos’s eye onto his lapel. He didn’t look like he was sleeping. The awake lived in the waking world. The asleep lived in the Dream. He looked dead, and dead people didn’t live in either.

You were right, Jojo, she thought. We should have run away.

She wanted to lean down and kiss his forehead, but instead she stepped away, because Joel’s mother was standing there beside his head, and Emery had never felt so hated.

The burial took place that afternoon in Poppy Hill, the Sleeping City’s largest cemetery, where Fabian Fenhallow had been buried. Old trees and a tall stone wall bordered its rolling lawns. The beautiful October foliage had begun to fall in the face of November, and an early frost blanketed the grass and tombstones. The graveyard was mostly empty. After the casket was lowered, the Fenhallow crowd slipped off into the waning light.

Emery remained in the shadow of a nearby tree with Wes. Her coat came up high around her jaw and swept out around her knees. She had worn it to look imperious. If there was any way at all Morrigan was watching her, she would make it clear that she would not be so easy to defeat, limited number of bullets or not. Wes was just there, stoic and stony, like a cemetery statue. At the bottom of the hill, Grandpa Al waited by a black Fenhallow car. He looked strange without Edgar at his side. Edgar, who Emery still wasn’t allowed to see. Edgar, who had been locked away in the deepest recesses of the sleep research center until the Ward director arrived.

Emery kept her gaze away from Grandpa Al and the car. She watched the cemetery workers pile dirt into Joel’s grave. There was no creeping pressure of the Dream here. The dead did not sleep.

A deep furrow had formed between Wes’s eyebrows. His gaze fixed on the graves in the far distance, where a man in a hoodie and jacket was milling around the path.

“What’s wrong?” Emery said.

“I know what happens to people who can’t kill their doppelgängers,” he said. “The Ward throws you into a tiny, dark cell far underground, shoots you up with DreamLess, then cuts your connection to the Dream and lets your brain fracture into pieces. They say it’s humane because they’re not killing you, they’re just stopping your subconscious from forming anything dangerous. But you aren’t anything after that. Your body is alive but your brain is dead. You’re gone.

“My parents went through dream death three months apart. My dad went first, and I saw my mom once afterward. It’s the only memory I have of her—they took me to the hospital where she was and she held me and cried. It was more like screaming.” His stare never wavered. “They didn’t bring Ridley. I guess she was too young.”

“I’m sorry, Wes.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t want that to happen. To me. To Ridley. When I realized how dreamforming came easier to me than it did to the others, I knew I was in trouble. But I’ve looked through the records, and the dreamhunters whose partners helped them fight their doppelgängers had a higher rate of survival. Much higher. It seems obvious, but the State doesn’t like it. Just another chance to lose a hunter they’ve been training for two decades.”

He paused and looked at her. “We’re partners. We stick together.”

“I’ll do the fighting. You do the dreamforming. We’re like two halves of a whole hunter.”

“Morrigan isn’t going to beat us.”

But the Hypnos State might, Emery thought, then pushed the idea down. There would be time to worry about the State when the more immediate threat was handled.

“What brought this on?” she asked.

Wes nodded back toward the man in the hoodie in the distance. The man had paused on the path as they talked, but now turned smoothly and started walking away.

“That guy,” Wes said. “He was watching us.”

“For how long?”

“I noticed him when they started lowering the casket.”

“Did you sense the Dream on him?”

“He’s too far away.”

“What did he look like?”

“He was wearing a mask,” (Emery scoffed. Masks.) “under his hood. There were no eyeholes that I could see. No mouth. Just…dark. Nondescript clothes. No showing skin.”

Emery looked again. The man had disappeared.

“You think he’s…?”

“I don’t know,” Wes said, “but I’m not leaving anything up to chance anymore.”

A pause.

With a deep sigh, Emery straightened her back against the endless exhaustion of the past few weeks.

“Whatever,” she said. She flipped her collar up and scooped her hair over one shoulder so it cascaded past her face like a rolling black wave. “If any more doppelgängers want to screw with us, they’re welcome to try. Come on. We have training to do.”

She turned back for the car. Wes followed her, and they descended the hill together.

The End

(?)

[auburnfamilynews]

Hey, what do you want to know about these guys?

Thanks to the folks over at Roll Bama Roll for answering some questions about their boa constrictor of a football team. Hope we can make a good showing against them, but who knows. We’re just lowly ole little brother Auburn.

...

So, Alabama is really good. For the hype that the Tide received coming into the season, has it been met?

I actually think it’s been exceeded. We all expected the offense to be good, with the trio of sophomore receivers returning, Damien Harris returning, and the offensive line replacing only two starters with former 5-star recruits. Oh, and a QB that won a national championship in overtime. But I don’t think even the most ardent of Bama fans expected Tua to end up being this good. The defense lost the entire secondary and over half of the front seven, so we expected a step back. Add in pretty much an entirely new coaching staff aside from Saban, and we all had some uncertainty going in. The defense struggled early this season, but has really come into it’s own the last few weeks (though obviously you have to temper that with the fact that LSU and Miss St. have some pretty atrocious offenses).

Obviously, everyone is looking at Tua and the health of his knee. He seems fine, and poised to win you guys another Heisman. If he does somehow go out, what’s the confidence of Bama fans in Jalen or Mac Jones to win an Iron Bowl/SEC Championship Game?

I think we could win the Iron Bowl and maybe the SEC championship with a fully healthy Jalen Hurts, but it would be a lot tighter than with Tua back there. Unfortunately, Jalen is not fully healthy, as he’s still coming off his ankle surgery. We aren’t going very far in the playoffs without Tua though, so please don’t hurt him this week.

Mac Jones on the other hand... The freshman just isn’t ready. We aren’t winning anything if he is forced to be the guy for the majority of the game.

The offensive lineup around Tua has been great, and there seem to be a lot more weapons than in years past where the attack almost seemed like it depended on the deep ball to Cooper or Ridley. Who are the most important skill players you’ve got?

This year has been interesting in that regard. There’s always been one focal skill player on pretty much every Alabama team, except maybe the 2012 year when Eddie Lacy and TJ Yeldon had a nearly 50-50 split. At receiver, Jerry Jeudy, Devonte Smith, and Henry Ruggs all came in the same class and worked on the second team with Tua all 2017, then graduated to first team at the same time that he did. Ruggs and Smith were more of a factor than Jeudy in 2017, but have both dealt with some nagging injuries this year that let Jeudy take the lead, statistically. At running back, you would have thought that senior Damien Harris would be the go-to man this year, but it seems that Saban has been intentionally spelling him a lot all year to keep him fresh-- for late in the game, late in the season, and likely for the pros as well. Josh Jacobs, a change-of-pace guy that dealt with injuries his whole career, has really stepped up and become an all-around back. He catches the ball well, blocks better than any running back, and has added a good bit of power to his previously only elusive game. Then, there’s sophomore Najee Harris, the physical beast who was once the #1 recruit in the nation. As a pure runner, Najee is better than the other two, and is nearly impossible to tackle one on one. His spotty blocking has kept him behind the other two on the depth chart, but he’s always a danger to come in the 2nd or 3rd quarter and grind out some grueling 8-yard gains and give the offense a spark.

All that said, I think I’d actually say that freshman receiver Jaylen Waddle might be the most important. The diminutive speedster was expected to come in as an unrefined athlete who excelled at juking people, but needed work as a true receiver. Instead, he’s seemed to have become Tua’s most trusted target in critical situations. He may not have the most catches or yards, but he’s consistently made tough catches and squirted through traffic for a first down in the most important moments.

Looking at the results so far, the defense has been fine and they’ve always had a big cushion to play with. It’s never been imperative that they make a stop to save the game. How effective are they compared to some of the early-Saban lockdown units?

For probably the first time in Saban’s entire tenure, the linebackers are not the leading position group of the defense. Mack Wilson and Dylan Moses have been good and flashed talent, but they haven’t truly been difference makers. The outside linebackers Anfernee Jennings and Christian Miller have been solid if unspectacular, and are really missing Terrell Lewis, the physical freak of a pass rusher who tore his ACL just before the season started. The secondary has been much better than expected, especially true freshman Patrick Surtain Jr. Safety Deionte Thompson has been absolutely stellar at defending the deep centerfield, and strong safety Xavier McKinney has been excellent in run support and blitzes. Saivion Smith has had some struggles after replacing Trevon Diggs, who went out earlier this season with a broken leg. He’s talented with the ball in the air, but has really struggled in run defense and tackling on the perimeter.

Then there’s Quinnen Williams. The undersized nose tackle has been nothing short of a revelation. He started the season well, and has gotten better and better every single game. Sometimes, a guy just gets in the zone. And Quinnen is in the zone. He’s been nearly unblockable lately, leaving Gary Danielson laughing and speechless. Whether it’s been stopping a run or messing with the QB, Williams has been an absolute terror. And that kind of disruption up front can hide all sorts of minor problems that a defense might actually have.

Twitter has had fun with #BamaKickers because there have been some missed extra points and the like. If the game somehow comes down to special teams, how confident are Tide fans in the team’s ability to convert a game-winning kick, and why has this been such a problem for Saban over the years?

Ha, if it comes down to special teams, it’s game over. The fans have absolutely 0 confidence. Every year, I think that the field goal kicking has to get better than last season, and every year, it just gets worse. It’s pretty comical at this point. I’m not sure why Saban hasn’t totally given up kicking field goals. If the Tide had went for 2 after every touchdown this year, they’d only have to convert 44% of the time to score more that the kickers have trying to hit extra points. And you can’t tell me that Tua and company wouldn’t be better than 44% from the 2 yard line.

As for why? It’s just psychology at this point. It all started in 2011 when Cade Foster missed like three different should-be game winners in the “game of the century” 9-6 loss against LSU. It’s just gone downhill ever since. The kick six didn’t exactly help either, as you well know. Any kicker that kicks for Alabama now has all that history in the back of their mind, and it won’t go away. And every kicker that messes up just adds to the baggage to pass along to the next one. Until we get some sociopath of a kicker to break the streak, it will probably just keep on going.

You’re Nick Saban. What’s your biggest worry heading into the Iron Bowl?

The tackling on the perimeter defense. Auburn has some major speed, and the corners have been a bit suspect on keeping contain and forcing runners back in to the linebackers. Plus the linebackers have a little bit of a history with struggling with misdirection.

On the other side of the ball, the offensive line is dealing with some injuries, with left guard Deonte Brown likely out with a Turf Toe, and right guard Alex Leatherwood is day-to-day with a bum ankle. The line REALLY struggled against Mississippi State without Brown, and it very nearly got Tua killed. Fortunately, the Bulldogs’ offense was quite offensive to watch, so it wasn’t a big issue. But if Auburn’s defensive line can exploit that, while the offense takes advantage of the secondary’s tackling, it might be a long night for the Tide.

How does this game play out and what’s your score prediction?

Ultimately, I think Tua is finally healthy and comfortable. And as long as he’s healthy and comfortable, I can’t see Alabama losing another game. The Tide offense will start hot and jump to an early 14-0 lead before Auburn’s defense settles in and forces a turnover and a couple of stops. Auburn gets a score out of it, but Alabama answers with another touchdown in a 2-minute drill, going into halftime with a 21-7 lead. The second half is a little more bland. Alabama hits a big play early in the half for a touchdown, and follows up quickly with a defensive score off a turnover. Auburn mounts up and puts together a drive in the 4th quarter to make it 35-14, but doesn’t manage to score again as the Tide works to drain the clock.

...

Heathens.

from College and Magnolia - All Posts https://www.collegeandmagnolia.com/2018/11/23/18107519/opponent-q-a-alabama

[apsbicepstraining]

Christian Bale: ‘I was asked to do a romantic humor. I thought they’d lost their minds’

The actor, famed for playing brooding, injury people, is back playing, well, a dwell, shattered man in the gritty western Hostiles. He talks about why the film industry has to change, balding up to play Dick Cheney and why he will never, ever, do a romcom

The interview’s firstly astounds is that a chubby, grungy flesh is filling the Beverly Hills hotel sofa set aside for Christian Bale. The phony athletics a shaved brain, heavy paunch, worn pitch-black T-shirt and khaki camouflage trousers. He looks like a bouncer, maybe, or a resting football rowdy, but surely not the man who daddies up on inventories of the sexiest stars alive. But Bale it is, fall into the seat, occupying his latest physical change.” I ingest a lot of pies ,” he says.

The actor is well known for going to extremes- gorging, starving, bodybuilding- which reshape his physique from Olympian to emaciated to portly and back. He has just done it again, parcelling on the pounds and travelling near-bald to performance Dick Cheney. At persons under the age of 43, these alterations are not getting easier.” I’ve got to stop doing it. I suspect it’s going to take longer to get this off ,” he says, marking the belly.

But the chances of Bale not going all the way for a role are, on the basis of the ensuing interview, negligible. He may be from the smaller Pembrokeshire town of Haverfordwest and speak with an emphatic , non-posh English accent, but he is America’s Zelig: a versatile talent who personifies his adopted country’s dreams and nightmares with singular physicality and intensity.

A driving force, apparently, is danger.” The information anybody hires me is remarkable ,” says the Oscar-winner( for The Fighter in 2011) hired by Terrence Malick, Ridley Scott, Christopher Nolan and David O Russell. It could be spurious decorum, but Bale seems genuinely are concerns that someday the labor- on average one or two films a year over the past two decades- could dry up.” That could be really short-lived .”

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Bale reputedly has a feeling. He was arrested for reportedly assaulting his mother and sister at the Dorchester hotel in London in 2008. The experts did not press charges, citing sufficient evidence. The same time, he propelled an expletive-filled tirade against board of directors of photography on the change of Terminator: Redemption in 2009. A leaked audio recording zinged in all the regions of the internet.

Both are foreboding forebodings that set up the interview’s second stun: today, Bale is affable, chatty, relaxed. He laughter. Maybe it is because of a cold- he is under the weather and sips lemon tea- but it comes out as a wheezing gurgle that for all the world sounds like Muttley, the cartoon dog.

Asked if the nearly decade-old on-set meltdown bird-dogs him- it is the laughingstock of jokes and charades- he shrugs.” Parties don’t mention it to me, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t follow me around. I’m not well informed it if it does .”

Bale has brought glamours, anxiety and taut menace to memorable capacities straddling from Batman to Patrick Bateman, the axe-wielding yuppie of American Psycho( 2000 ). He plays- spoiler alert- another meditate, detriment, hyper-masculine persona in the potent film Hostiles . As a US army captain, he is tasked with escorting a Cheyenne chief through 1892 western badlands. Blood flows as Bale’s character kills, stabs, suffers and mourns.

Bale in American Psycho …’ I’d no idea beings met it as anything other than irony .’ Photograph: Sportsphoto Ltd ./ Allstar

The actor adversaries Robert De Niro and Daniel Day-Lewis for diving deep- physically and psychologically. He doesn’t do it for fun.” There is a much simpler mode, but I can’t do it. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t have any exercise. I ascertain actors who can just be themselves and then swap and give these really incredible achievements, and then switching over to being themselves. I find I start chuckling because I’m too aware that it’s still me. So I try to get as distant as possible. Otherwise, I can’t do it .”

Hence the metamorphoses.” It’s helpful not to look like yourself. If I look in the reflect and extend,’ Ah, that doesn’t definitely sounds like me ,’ that’s helpful .” Bale vowed to not pack on weight again after playing a conman in American Hustle( 2013 ), merely to bloat anew to play Cheney in the biopic Backseat( film after Hostiles ), leaving him now, periods after wrapping, facing another extreme nutrition.” These pants are one of the few pairs I’ve got that have these belts on the side so I can still fit into’ em .” A fluctuating waistline, he says, has consequences.” I’m not big-hearted on shop, so you end up with a lot of elasticated happenings .”

He is calmest, he says, during extreme fasting, such as the time “hes losing” 27 kg( 60 lb) for The Machinist in 2004 (” attains De Niro definitely sounds like an uncommitted wuss “, Peter Bradshaw wrote in the Guardian’s review ).” It’s an stunning suffer doing that. When you’re so skinny that you can hardly go up a flight of stairs … you’re, like, this being of pure anticipate. It’s like you’ve abandoned your torso. That’s the most Zen-like state I’ve ever been in my life. Two hours sleep, reading a volume for 10 hours straight without stopping … prodigious. You couldn’t ruffle me up. No rollercoaster of excitements .” Alas, it doesn’t last.” As soon as “youre starting” putting the nutrient back in your gut, the rollercoaster coming through .”

Sipping his tea, admiring the afternoon sunshine seeping through a canopy of palm trees, Bale arrays over a variety of topics: the US’s polarisation, Hollywood gossips, feminism, the fright of romantic comedies.

Bale in the Machinist …’ It’s like you’ve abandoned your torso .’ Photograph: Allstar/ Paramount

First, there is a movie to promote. Bale announces Hostiles a western with harsh, modern-day resonance. Based on an unpublished manuscript by the late screenwriter Donald Stewart, it is written, induced and directed by Scott Cooper, who previously directed Black Mass, Crazy Heart and Out of the Furnace.

It opens with the butchery of a white family by Comanches, then alters to Command Joe Blocker, a grizzled, prejudiced ex-serviceman of the genocidal Indian campaigns who is forced by political employers to escort a former foe, a croaking Cheyenne chief give full play to Wes Studi, on a 1,000 -mile odyssey to his tribal homeland.

The arc of polarisation and redemption grabbed Bale from the outset.” It was a gut feeling of reading it, wanting to read it again and thinking: there’s really something here that I can preoccupy with for a number of months. It’s an incredible story of American history from the point of view of a mortal who is absolutely destroyed with bigotry and hatred, experiencing his channel back to being human .”

Speaking Cheyenne dialogue was nerve-racking, but uplifting, says Bale.” It’s a beautiful conversation; exceedingly poetic, with a wonderful rhythm to it .” Chief Phillip Whiteman, a Cheyenne consultant who tutored Bale, says the actor nailed it:” The pleasure that it brought me to hear our speech being saved through a character such as Chris’s, this became me emotional. This is going to live on for ever, captured by this big screen .”

The film, fire on location in Colorado and New Mexico in the summer of 2016, objective up reflecting Trump-era topics, says Bale.” We didn’t think that when we started it, but it just started becoming clear as we experienced what was happening in America- picturing how cozy parties were becoming in showing disregard for the other .”

Revelations about sex misbehaviour in Hollywood underscore the film’s observation that” everything is run by age-old grey humen”, he says.” The richness that we could all experience if we started cuddling a much more extensive variety of sources of storytelling from dames, from minorities .” Worthy hopes, but some commentators complain that in Hostiles the native attributes are ciphers.

Nonetheless, Bale supposes the cascade of post-Harvey Weinstein scandals will permanently change Hollywood.” I can’t see that this will become a footnote and be swept under the carpet. It does feel like it will change .” Since moving to Los Angeles in the 90 s, he has worked on dozens of movies, indies such as Laurel Canyon, blockbusters such as Exodus: Divinities and Kings, and garlanded grub such as The Big Short . But he says he was unaware of sexual mismanagement in the industry.

” Some beings might announce me almost reclusive. Nothing gossips with me. I was clueless. If I’m not making a film, I don’t really socialise with that numerous people who stir movies. The throw couch, yes, I’d heard of that. But specifics? No , good-for-nothing at all. Do I believe that it has all been happening? Perfectly .”

Surprising Bale fact: he is Gloria Steinem‘s stepson. His now-deceased father wedded the feminist author in 2000.” It was news to me; I was in Germany ,” says Bale, wheeze-chortling anew.” I found out about it afterwards .” He has not discussed Hollywood’s scandals with her, he says, but contemplates himself a feminist.” If we’re talking equality, absolutely .”

Asked about Ridley Scott expunging Kevin Spacey from All the Money in the World, Bale pauses.” Ridley’s a really smart husband, a acquaintance of mine. I imagine he’s made precisely the right choice .” He says he has been too busy hitting Backseat to say more.” I don’t know if the allegations were so heinous that it was a moral choice of Ridley’s or if it was a strictly business select .”

In Empire of the Sun with John Malkovich. Picture: Everett Collection/ Rex Feature

In playing Cheney, Bale strove “pathways to understanding” George W Bush’s vice-president.” What you discover when you start investigating any person is nobody is singularly bad or singularly good. He’s a wonderful family man, by all chronicles. He didn’t hesitate for a second when his daughter Mary announced that she was a lesbian despite the fact that was complete anathema to his party at that time .”

Bale withholds his own opinions on Cheney’s politics.” I don’t want to do this as a’ nudge-nudge, wink-wink’ action. I don’t want to be divulging my own political bends and then making a little joke. It’s totally irrelevant what I contemplate. I’m an actor, I’m a vessel of that persona .”

Bale was born in 1974 to atypical parents. His father, Jenny, was a circus musician and his father, David, an entrepreneur and flair administrator. They moved frequently- Bale recollects an idyllic stint in Portugal. The future Batman cracked into acting aged eight in a commercial for the fabric softener Lenor. Two year later, he was on the West End in London, playing opposite Rowan Atkinson in The Nerd. At 13, he property the starring role in Steven Spielberg’s adaptation of JG Ballard’s memoir Empire of the Sun.

Overnight, he grew famed- and the family’s primary earner, which motivated a love-hate rapport with playing.” There was none( else) to make any fund. At that age, it was,’ Oh, Christ, I’ve got to be the breadwinner .’ That was no fun. So there’s always been a bit of disliking because of that .”

After his mothers divorced, he moved with “his fathers” to Los Angeles. American Psycho, based on Bret Easton Ellis’s novel, launched Bale as a leading man with a very sharp rim.” When I read the book, I was chortling straight away. I’d no idea beings envisioned it as anything other than parody .”

Then came acclaimed recitals in Chris Nolan’s Batman trilogy, though Bale is self-critical. He wanted the superhero, for once, to be more interesting than the villains. Then Heath Ledger transformed in a sublime accomplishment as the Joker in The Dark Knight, leaving the caped reformer comparatively vanilla by comparison.” I didn’t attain what my design was there .”

Bale has admitted conflicted thoughts over Ben Affleck acquiring the role , but denies any finding on Batman v Superman and Justice League, saying he hasn’t seen either.

His two children- the product of his marriage to Sandra Blazic- have not pictured his own movies, but taunt his thespian efforts during games at home, he says.” They reckon I’m the worst actor ever. My daughter can’t believe that anyone pays me .”

Time’s up, so a final query: has he examined nostalgic comedy?

Bale bats the question back with what is just like a challenge.” Have you ever enjoyed a nostalgic slapstick ?” I pause and he presses the time.” Have you ever enjoyed a romantic comedy ?”

A few, I say, but my recollection blanks.

” Can you name’ em ?”

Er, When Harry Met Sally.

” That’s going back quite a roads, isn’t it? You’re hard pressed .” He shakes his head.” I was asked to do a romantic slapstick lately and I thought they’d lost their thinkers. Felines have those insane half hours every evening. I think it must have been that for the yield fellowship. I don’t know why anyone would ever give me a nostalgic slapstick. I find American Psycho very funny .”

Hostiles is released in the UK on 5 January 2018

The post Christian Bale: ‘I was asked to do a romantic humor. I thought they’d lost their minds’ appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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