#will i ever be able to outrun that dick post

[sukunasun]

I read your "how the jjk men would give it to you" post you made and.... like... surprise dick w stressed nanami sounds *chefs kiss* amazing. I was wondering if you had more thoughts about it bc i havent known peace ever since i read that hc/snippet

i was wondering which piece you were referring to only to realize you meant THAT post....

despite the dark circles and a scowl keeping his face in an ever-constant state of agitation, he’s a picture worth a million dollars, in tight-fitted suits that pinch at the waist, the back of his hand dusting over broad shoulders, poised, prim, lapels ironed flat over a wide chest. built and beautiful and so prudish is he. what is it about nanami the salaryman. his life made up of decimal points going up and down, a strand of hair he finds randomly on his shoulder, and the long, long, hours that build up overtime, a culmination of disappointments and tension unlike any other. forcing him closer to that edge, losing all control.

maybe it's the way his face is lit by a computer screen, by fluorescent lights, looking sickly and tense. he leans back in his chair every 30 minutes and the heavy sighs he lets out, the deep groans, guttural and frustrated sound so pornographic you think he's doing it on purpose. your friends tell you it's the clark kent effect, everyone's into the hot nerdy types, the quiet ones who hide that wild, primal side of themselves. but he is no superman, in fact, he's the complete opposite, he hides nothing and he hones no powers. he's just a man in need of a splurge or something, the desperation written all over his face.

who says things like "make me copies, reschedule my meeting, this coffee is atrocious make sure you use the french press like i taught you" do this, do that, barking orders at you all day without so much as a thank you. well, it’s less bark and more bite really. he's so cutting it's like he could say anything to you just so he gets to sneak in some kind of backhanded comment, unsolicited and uncalled for, an inkling inside you warning you of its hidden meaning.

if he were anything like his coworkers, he could just visit the strip club, pick up a girl on a dating app, find some stranger at a club, a quick fuck, a one night stand. but nanami wouldn’t dare. it's such a shame that he doesn't know how to fuck, wouldn't be able to the way he seems so tightly wound and uptight—mr. 'i'm better than you because i make so much money and i am good at my job'.

not to mention it wouldn't work either because he needs something more, something along the lines of your pretty mouth wrapped around him, taking him all the way inside, choking on it. you'd make him last as long as possible, make him shake and tremble with his hands gripping your hair tight, fisting, tugging hard and he'd keep you there, releasing down your throat. it’s what he wishes for when he stands in a bathroom stall jerking himself off for the fourth time that day and god help him because it’s now a routine, just for the sake of release, mechanical and so quick he doesn't get to savour it. even when he does reach his peak—cum painting his fingers, hot and sticky and so incredibly disgusting when the adrenaline wears off, heartbeat slowing, lips swollen and bruised clamped down between his teeth, his body doused in all that shame—it's not enough.

later in the day he gets off the phone with a client who's been bugging him about buying, selling, about shares, investments, the money's not real and on paper they're making a fortune but nanami knows he's going home with most of it. his patience along with the desire to keep his job is wearing thin. seen with the way a vein bulges over his temples, jaw clenching, his tie comes undone then, tugs at it until it hangs loose. starts to crave a cigarette by the lounge, away from prying eyes, but it's not needed when he looks up and sees you by your desk. “he’s just this guy at the office, you know, the kind that has a stick up their ass and takes themselves too seriously,” he overhears you say on the phone—it’s offensive of course, because you say it with such contempt like he wasn't capable of bending you over a desk, over a leather couch, making you muffle your screams in a supply closet as he fucks you silly. he wants to scoff, you should have been keeping those things to yourself, let alone talking about him out in the open. 

at this rate, he could just pull some strings and let you lose your job but he decides otherwise, walking over to where you are, nanami raises an eyebrow when he stands over your desk. "menial tasks requires less brain power so this falls right within your purview doesn't it, what are you, an errand girl?" he usually speaks in a monotone voice. this time however, it's like he believes himself superior. smug and snobbish.

“i graduated top of my class," you reply with indignation. who does he think he is, was this some weird power trip? he’s always been so quiet, so composed and collected. “and it’s sexist to imply that i merely run errands,” you spit back. if it weren’t for you, he’d be fucked. who organizes his schedule and replies his emails when he could just do it himself. 

immediately, he says “i made the assumption based off your incompetence, not because you are a woman.” then glances at you with his nose upturned. cringing at your gaping mouth, at your shocked expression. “stop staring, you're getting drool all over company property," he plops a few stacks of papers by the edge of your desk and without thinking about the implications of it, pushes them towards you with his pelvis. a lazy thrust of his hips and you look up then, expecting to see a sly expression, just like every other man who work on top floors and smoke cigars in penthouse view board rooms but his face is hesitant, like he's holding back something, "get this sorted, and don't make a mess of it." he instructs, before walking away, striding towards the men's bathroom for...whatever reason, you didn’t know, but he's always disheveled and doused in cologne afterwards.

geto and gojo suggest he meets the daughter of one of their clients but nanami suspects it's just another one of their schemes. “she’s a babe, would be down to fuck on a first date,” gojo doesn’t care that he’s being loud and obnoxious because he has more money than anyone will ever make in their lifetime while geto slaps an envelope against nanami's chest, “here, go buy her something pretty, it might help us convince her dad to invest,” geto says from behind him. he peeks through the opening and finds crisp bills stuffed into it, bursting at the seams.

the woman in question looks more like a doll, she smells like vanilla and her full lips purse when she whispers, "i like you," straddling him and leaving soft little smooches against his neck. it sounds made up because she barely knows him. he looks down at her spread legs and wonders what they'd look like in stockings, the kind you wear, in a pencil skirt and a blouse buttoned all the way to the top. her wavy extensions don't do anything for him, where's the updo, where are the hairpins tucked behind the ear. he doesn't want to hear her praises or her exaggerated moans, she's definitely a professional, a respectable one at that because she does it well but he wants a woman who's careless with her work, who looks down on him, he wants an errand girl—

"don't speak, you’ll ruin it,” nanami groans, and in a hotel room behind closed doors, she does as she’s told. he makes her face the other way so he doesn't have to see her, hear her, he could just deal with the weird, nauseating mix of being unsatisfied later on, feeling guilty when he knows he's using someone else, she's merely an object now, he doesn't care about her or whether she likes him and it's so infuriating that he wishes to prove you wrong because he's made to press up behind you, feel his heart beating beneath the skin, racing and pounding. proof that he has one, that he's made for more than just sitting behind a desk.

so he'll compromise tonight, all until he leaves her in an empty bed the next morning, rushing off to work with geto’s money left on the bedside table.

he's even more of a pain in the ass that morning, breathing down your neck and making sure you're left with double the amount of usual things he makws you do. but also he keeps a distance, going as far as flinching away every time you so much as tap him on the shoulder. this man is on edge, like he's about to implode. "what's your deal, haven't you ever felt the touch of a woman?" you tease, just for fun, even when you know he wouldn't laugh. and he doesn't really, but instead finds himself fucking you against the wall of his office.

skirt bunched up around your middle, he rips into your stockings with his hands, ripping it and pushing your panties to the side, "i'll buy you another more so stop whining," then tells you to leave the heels on and you do. even when he holds you up in his hands, legs propped up on his shoulders, you try to keep them from slipping off. in the reflection of a mirror, you watch his muscled back flex, the walls thudding, and those heels start dangling over your toes from the sheer force, each one of his thrusts, hard and fast and deep, keeps pushing you over the edge.

the first time you come all over him, it makes you tremble and shake, the newfound revelation that he's actually so skilled is one thing but nanami kisses your neck, gently coaxing you through your release. when he moves you to a couch, he sets you atop him, legs spread wide and thighs held firmly in his hands. he adjusts himself behind you and before you could whine from just how sensitive you feel, he pushes himself back inside, stretched and full and so hot. making sure that over your shoulder, he could watch you in that same mirror, and that you'd see him too. you'd see just who exactly makes you feel this way.

and by the time he fucks you by the window, you whimper when you look out then, clear blue sky and bright sunlight, it's a beautiful day out and the street below are bustling with cars and people who are looking to make memories. some colleagues are out for lunch and others are having some fresh air, a seemly normal day, and your heart pounds, fear and excitement creeping up because anyone could see, turn their heads up to catch the view of a woman with her knees tucked to the sides of her head, squirming and bucking as her boss fucks up into her. "i'm starting to think you like this," he taunts when your moans ring out, and it's true because you were running your mouth, making a scene, you believed him to be incapable and inexperienced but now you can't think of any other man who's made you feel the way he does. nanami doesn't care one bit about the exposure, abut public indecency or whatever the fuck they'll say about him, let them see how he makes you come apart, making your mind go numb.

"you did this to me," he snarls into the crook of your neck, how often had pictured this moment and now that it's real, his cock buried inside you, the moans you let out sounding better than anything he could have imagined, and the look on your pretty face while you're succumbing to him, this snappy little thing now submitting herself. "let me know if it's too much okay?" he whispers, biting down on your neck, pounding inside you, feeling your juices run down til it drips all over the carpet floors. he'd make you call someone to get it cleaned, and he'd stress about getting it done on time so no one would suspect a thing but he'd also go back to being a pain in the ass, or maybe he'd start being a little sweet, a little kinder, gentle and tender...until he isn't.

[emotionallyits2009]

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :) 

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010. 

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The  professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on. 

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

[camsthisky]

Breathe Disaster

ao3 | ff.net

Summary: Dick’s been shot, Wally feels guilty, and Cassandra sheds some insight on why Dick fights.

Based on @haunt-the-stars‘s birdflash post. It did not turn out the way I thought it was going to at all, but I hope you enjoy! Title comes from Marianas Trench’s song Ever After.

“Come on, Dick,” Wally murmurs, head lowered as he sits in the chair next to Dick’s bed side (or should he say cot side, since they’re in the Batcave’s medbay. Maybe he would have, but even his mind, the joke falls flat). He has his hands clasped in front of him, and he hates this feeling of waiting. It’s too slow. It helps him feel better to talk to Dick, though. To mutter, “Come on, Dick. Wake up soon, or else Batman’s gonna fillet me.”

He won’t. Batman’s always been through here more times in the past three hours than Wally can count, and Wally doesn’t doubt that Batman’s too worried about Dick to do much more than grunt in Wally’s general direction.

Unfortunately, Wally hasn’t known Batman—Bruce Wayne—long enough to translate Bat-speak, so he’s at a loss for what that particular grunt means. He hopes it means that he’s not going to kill Wally. But without Dick there to translate, and with Tim being uncooperative and not speaking to either Bruce or Wally, it means that Wally is out of luck.

“You know,” someone says, and Wally looks up to see a girl about Tim’s age—Cassandra, Wally remembers��next to him, looking down at him. He doesn’t know her very well, but she’s always shied away from his exuberance.

“Don’t take it personally,” Dick had told him after one too many times she’d disappeared on them in the manor. “She doesn’t know you well, and you’re probably just too loud and obnoxious.”

“So are you!” Wally had claimed.

Dick had just shrugged with an easygoing grin. “Yeah, well, I’m her brother. She has to like me.”

That conversation had dissolved into wrestling pretty quickly, and Wally thinks that they’d broken one of Alfred’s weird vases. They’d scrambled to clean up the shards, both reminiscing about the times they’d done this before when they were kids. Wally is pretty sure he’d seen a shadow watching them that day, and he wonders now if it was Cassandra.

“You’re not going to wake him up by staring at him,” Cassandra says, eyes flickering over to where Dick is lying unconscious on the cot. She looks sad. “But he’s not in any danger, so it should be okay to rest and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry,” Wally says at once, even though it’s a lie.

He’s starving. Not to mention exhausted. But all he can see when he closes his eyes is turning around to see the bullet piercing through Dick’s suit. Dick falling. Wally had barely been fast enough to catch Dick and flash him away somewhere safe. The stricken looks of his family when Wally had brought him to the Batcave.

Cassandra hums, but it doesn’t seem like she believes him. “I know how your abilities work.”

“I don’t think I can leave him.”

“Alfred can make you something,” Cassandra offers, her eyes soft and her voice gentle, but there’s something powerful about her that Wally can’t quite place. But then she looks back over at Dick, and she hunches in on herself, and all that power turns to fragile hurt. She’s sad. This is her big brother, Wally realizes, and she probably hurts just as much as Wally does to see Dick like this, but she’s torn herself away from him to take care of herself. Probably because that’s what Dick would want.

But Dick is Wally’s best friend. And he was there when Dick was shot. He’d had to watch as Dick fell like a puppet with its strings cut. And he sits here and he doesn’t think he can tear himself away until he knows for sure that Dick’s eyes will open again.

Cassandra seems to understand, because she sits down on the empty chair and pulls her knees up. “It sounds bad,” she says quietly, “but we’re all used to this. It’s the price of being…human, I guess.”

“I’m human,” Wally croaks. “I’m human, and this doesn’t happen to me. I can dodge bullets at super speed and I have accelerated healing, and sometimes—sometimes I forget that Dick isn’t me. He can’t take the hits I do and keep on going.”

“Maybe,” and Cassandra sighs. “But Dick’s one of the best when it comes to this, and there’s a reason.”

“Yeah?” Wally snorts. “And what’s that?”

Cassandra smiles. “Friends. Family. The people he loves, and the ones who love him.”

Wally runs a hand down his face. “That’s not going to help him dodge a bullet when it’s aimed straight at him.”

“Maybe not. But it gives him something to fight for.” Cassandra hesitates, and then she stares at Dick again. She seems almost—reluctant. “Dick…is different. Bruce fights for the city, but Dick fights for love. Family. Friendship.”

“Shhh,” Dick moans, his eyes still closed and his face pale, but his hands twitches towards where Cassandra is sitting. “‘M tryna sleep over here, Cassie. You, too, Walls. Love ya, but shuttup.”

Wally blinks, a little startled as he looks over at his best friend, but from the corner of his eye he sees Cassandra bite back a small smile.

“Dick?” Wally asks, almost in disbelief, that guilt threatening to overwhelm him again. He hadn’t realized that Cassandra had been distracting him from it until Dick’s blue, blue eyes open and catch his green, and they just look at each other. Until Wally feels something hitch in his chest and has to wrap his fingers around Dick’s weak hand. “Thank God.”

Dick huffs an amused breath, his eyes hazy with pain killers, but he squeezes back as much as he can. “Come here often?”

“Shut the hell up, Dick,” Wally says, but something loosens and Wally is crying tears of relief. “God, you scared me half to death.”

“Jason’s the one who does the death jokes around here,” Dick half slurs, a loopy grin across his face. “He’s not gonna be happy you’re taking ‘em over.”

Wally laughs wetly, and he has to take a couple of deep breaths before he can speak again. But before he can, he looks around in bewilderment, because—

“Where did your sister go?”

“T’get Bruce,” Dick says.

“I didn’t even see her leave.”

“She’s sneakier than a ninja.”

“Why is she getting your dad?”

“He’s a worrywart.”

“You got shot.”

“So’re you.”

“It nicked a lung.”

Dick huffs another laugh, but he grimaces this time and shifts. “I think the pain meds are starting to wear off.”

It’s less guilt this time around and more worry that makes Wally lean forward and squeeze Dick’s hand just a bit tighter. “Are you alright?”

Dick hums and closes his eyes. “Ask me again in a couple hours.”

“Dick,” Wally says, and Dick opens his eyes up again. He looks exhausted, but he meets Wally’s eyes, and looks slightly more coherent than before. He waits patiently, giving Wally a I’m listening look, and Wally swallows. “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.”

“And if I say I’m the one who’s sorry?” Dick says, his tone sharp all of the sudden. “Are you gonna let me take the blame for this one? Or are you gonna pull a Bruce and take all of the guilt?”

“Why would you be—”

“Because I jumped in front of it, Wally,” Dick says, his voice solemn, and Wally feels something sink his in stomach at the serious look in Dick’s eyes. At Dick’s words. “It was heading straight towards you, and I knew you wouldn’t have been able to get out of the way in time, eve with your speed. So, I jumped.”

Wally lets go of Dick’s hand and stands up, staring at his best friend. Dick looks—resigned. Like he’s expecting Wally to leave and not come back. But—that’s not—

“I can heal faster,” Wally says. “You shouldn’t have—”

“You can still die, Wally,” Dick says, and his voice is hoarse and there’s pain in his face that Wally thinks is from something other than the bullet wound in his chest. “Not even you can outrun a shot through the heart.”

Wally knows that his expression is showing all of the disbelief and pain and fear at the fact that his best friend jumped in front of a bullet that had been meant for Wally. “Dick—”

“I saw him pull the trigger and my body just moved,” Dick tells him. “And honestly? I’d do it again. I’ll be fine in a few weeks, but I don’t know if you’d be. There’s no way to know that if I hadn’t taken that bullet you wouldn’t be six feet under the ground.”

Wally sits back down and runs both hands through his hair, taking that in. He’s not—happy about it. But he’s not angry. He knows Dick. He knows that Dick is the kind of person to put someone above himself.

Dick fights for love, Cassandra had said, and yeah. Wally can’t believe how true that is. That Dick had taken a bullet for a speedster. For someone, if they’d just been facing the right direction and making a rookie mistake, that could just run away from it without a scratch.

But Dick had jumped in front. Had watched his back.

“Thank you,” Wally says, wrapping his hand around Dick’s again. “For saving my life.”

Dick shoots him a tired smile. “Anytime, Wally.”

[latestnews2018-blog]

Chris Messina Is Fine With Not Being A ‘Hollywood Chris.’ Maybe.

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/chris-messina-is-fine-with-not-being-a-hollywood-chris-maybe/

Chris Messina Is Fine With Not Being A ‘Hollywood Chris.’ Maybe.

Here’s a hard fact: Chris Messina is routinely omitted from the roster of Hollywood Chrises, the white guys with the same first name who take turns popping up in blockbuster movies. 

And that’s some bullshit, seeing as Chris Messina is the most talented and the most attractive of the Hollywood Chrises. (No offense to Rock, Noth, Cooper, Lee, Lloyd, O’Dowd, Tucker, Meloni or Walken, whose first name isn’t even Chris. Ditto the so-called real Hollywood Chrises: Pine, Evans, Hemsworth and Pratt.)

Ignoring journalistic ethics, I told Messina as much on the phone last week during a quick chat about “Sharp Objects,” the bewitching HBO limited series based on Gillian Flynn’s mystery novel of the same name. Messina was a good sport, but he evinced a hint of bittersweetness as he laughed off the situation. Of course, the Hollywood Chris phenomenon has more to do with superhero franchises and social media personalities than anything else ― two arenas that Messina hasn’t entered, perhaps for the better. Still, how does it feel to be left out of the “Saturday Night Live” monologues and best-of brackets and general internet obsessiveness devoted to your industry (Hollywood) and your name (Chris)?

“It’s OK,” Messina said.

By the way, are you watching “Sharp Objects”? You really should. Messina plays Richard Willis, a Kansas City detective commissioned to investigate the murders of two teen girls in the eerie Missouri hamlet Wind Gap, where a troubled journalist named Camille Preaker (the incomparable Amy Adams, his “Julie & Julia” co-star) has returned home to report on the case. I asked Messina about the series, his friendship with Adams and, of course, the Hollywood Chrises. 

This is quite the unlikely “Julie & Julia” reunion.

Yeah, thank goodness. Amy and I became friends on that, and then I had always said to her, “I really want to do something else with you where I’m not just eating your food and telling you how delicious it is.” And I wasn’t quite sure it was ever going to happen, but she called and said, “Have you read this book?” I hadn’t. She said, “Take a read, I’m going to play this part.” If it wasn’t for her, I would have never been in the show.

Stephen Lovekin via Getty Images

Amy Adams and Chris Messina at the New York premiere of “Julie & Julia” on July 30, 2009.

With something like “Sharp Objects,” where the mystery unfolds in waves over eight episodes, is there any limitation to reading the book and knowing the outcome before your character does?

It’s true ― we had the source material, which was fantastic. And then the scripts were great, so yeah, you kind of have to go one scene at a time and, if you can, forget where it’s going or try to make-believe you don’t know where it’s going. The good news is I did read the scripts before we started, but they changed. So there was this feeling of change happening. There was a flow of new pages coming in here and there, so that kept me on my toes.

The end result was what it was in the book, but if I just kept my eye on one scene at a time or one episode at a time, I guess that was the trick.

Did anything significant change with regard to Richard?

No, but because it’s like an eight-hour movie, really, you get to flesh out these characters more. When I read the book, I was pretty clear that I wanted to be part of it. I loved the book. I found it heartbreaking and painful, and in terms of the mystery, I was intrigued to figure out who this was and what the hell was going on in this town. Richard was very clear on the page in terms of what the job was, and it only got more fleshed out in the scripts because it’s an eight-hour movie.

But visually, [director] Jean-Marc Vallée is so gifted. He’s a very improvisational filmmaker, and not so much with dialogue; it’s more images, like all those fans you see in the show. Those weren’t in the script — we were just hot as hell. They are these sharp objects, these fans. And that’s just one of many instinctive visual examples of what he grabbed on the day. It was really exciting to work that way. Sometimes it’s frustrating because you’re not in his head, and you don’t know why the hell he’s shooting these fans, and then you see the show and you see it edited together, and they’re beautiful and evocative of the place.

HBO

Taking a break from his investigation, Chris Messina’s Det. Richard Willis drinks alone in a sleepy Missouri town’s lone pub.

The visual style gives the show a hallucinatory feel that’s exciting. When you encountered Richard in the book and in the first few episodes, did you think of him as a trustworthy person?

That’s a good question. I really didn’t talk about this or share it because it wasn’t necessary, but I kind of thought that Richard was damaged in a way — not exactly the same way as Camille. He had his own baggage and heartbreak and desires, and a need to be seen and heard and to be a part of something. He’s a man who obviously is an outsider of this town but carries with him a past that haunts him, like we all do. But I was thinking he was the other side of the coin of Camille. As you see in the first four episodes, she needs help. She’s in pain. Maybe it’s not that drastic with Richard, but you only find out so much about the character, so it was important for him to come to the town with his own baggage.

Richard and Camille have an interesting conversation in the woods in Episode 4. She points to a spot where the football team would “have their way” with girls, and Richard says that sounds like rape. But Camille essentially says it isn’t, thereby inverting the positions we might expect a man and woman to have when discussing consent. What was your approach to that scene?

There was a lot of discussion about that and what we were saying. I remember flipping back and forth and trying to get a handle on what it is we’re saying. I love that Camille’s character is usually a man parading around town drinking. The scene you’re talking about, and the entire series, flips that. I love that about the book and the show.

It’s interesting, Camille’s take on it and Richard’s take on it. They’re quite different. I enjoyed that the writing was pushing that. Most of my scenes are with Amy, and I can just look across the camera and see a friend who you know is a fine actor, just fantastic, and has proved herself time and time again to do so many different parts. But to look at her playing something like this was really wonderful and inspiring.

And then the flip side is she was also one of the producers, so she would be in this pain — and most days were filled, in terms of the scene work, with darkness. And then we would call cut, and she would put on the producer hat. She would be taking care of us and getting an ice cream truck for us and looking at scripts and talking about scheduling. And then she’d go back into the part, into the character. It was really fascinating to watch that.

How micro were your conversations? Taking that scene in the woods, for example, are you two — as actors and as friends — breaking down what sort of tone you want to bring to it so it doesn’t sound like he’s lecturing her?

We talked more in the beginning, and then as you start to live in it; and it’s a few months down the line, you feel it more than you need to talk it, if that makes any sense. You start to know where these characters should be going and what Jean-Marc is looking for. And, really, acting with Amy is really like — I’m a bad tennis player, but I imagine if I was any good, it would be like playing Serena. You’re bound to play better. She makes everyone better around her.

That scene through the woods is a lot of pages of dialogue. But Jean-Marc Vallée doesn’t rehearse; he doesn’t light it. There are no marks on the ground. The director of photography throws his camera on his shoulder, and we kind of just went. A lot of that was shot really, really fast. He doesn’t do a lot of takes, which is great because I think if you look at all the stuff he gets, he gets raw performances. You don’t have time to start acting because you’re almost rehearsing on film, which is beautiful. The flip side is that I tend to be an actor that wants to keep exploring it and trying different avenues, and he’s like, “We’re done.” When you have a director like that, you just trust him.

That’s the theater kid in you, as someone who’s been onstage so much and able to tweak the same show night after night. Speaking of different mediums, TV has been very kind to you, with “Damages,” “The Mindy Project,” “The Newsroom” and now “Sharp Objects.” Your movie roles haven’t been as abundant, though. Are you getting the type of movie work you’d like to be doing?

I really feel like what happened with me — which happens to a lot of actors — is I came from the New York theater scene, and I played all these delinquents, all these really complicated characters. The reason why I became an actor in the first place was to dig into the dirt. I came to LA and got “Six Feet Under,” and I played a Republican lawyer. So, as you know, if you do anything halfway decently in Hollywood, they want you to repeat it. For a while, whether it was “Julie & Julia” or “Vicky Christina Barcelona,” I was trying to outrun the nice-guy suit, or the kind of guy you thought was a dick but has an OK heart. And I’m grateful for all the parts and all the opportunities that I’ve had. But I certainly feel — and probably most actors feel this way — like I haven’t been able to do a quarter of what I can and want to do.

A lot of the film stuff that I really have loved — “28 Hotel Rooms” or “Fairhaven” or I played a small part in my movie “Alex in Venice” — were so small you have to tie somebody up to watch them. They had very short runs in actual theaters, so you have to find it on iTunes or Netflix — and we’re oversaturated with great stuff to watch.

In terms of big movies, I really loved doing “Live by Night” with Ben Affleck. Someone finally gave me something different. I gained 40 pounds, and I was in the 1920s and 1930s as a gangster. That was a remarkable experience. Unfortunately, people didn’t go out to see that film. So I feel like this is the tip of the iceberg.

Warner Bros

Chris Messina in “Live by Night.”

Are you familiar with the phenomenon known as the Hollywood Chrises?

Yes, I’ve heard of this. The Chris Pine, the Chris Evans, the Chris … Hemsworth? And … oh, and Chris Pratt.

How does it feel not to be included among the Hollywood Chrises?

[Laughs] Well. Yeah. It’s OK. Those guys are all great and talented guys. They deserve to be in their club. I’m my own Chris.

But the thing is — and I swear I’m not just saying this because you’re on the phone with me — you are the most talented and most attractive of the Chrises.

Oh, that’s very nice. Well, I don’t know how those things start, but I’m the Chris running behind all those guys being like, “Wait up! Wait up, guys! Can I play too?”

One reason they get lumped together is because they’ve all done superhero movies. They’re blockbuster stars, and that’s a terrain you haven’t tread yet. So, the obvious question is: Is that a terrain you would even want to tread?

I would never say never. They’re not movies I run to, to be honest. I really got started with character-driven films. It was the films of the ’70s. It was the Dustin Hoffman, Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, Gene Hackman roles. My kids really dug “Black Panther,” and so did I. And all of them are cool — what they’ve done with them, how they stretch them out. I love Heath Ledger’s performance as The Joker, and I’m of course looking forward to Joaquin [Phoenix] playing The Joker. I love everything he does. But I don’t run to see those films. I run to see the new Gus Van Sant movie, which was phenomenal. And again, Joaquin was incredible [in “Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot”]. I love old movies. As much as I do watch TV, it’s crowded, so I’m always trying to catch up. But it’s never-ending, and a lot of times I just opt to put on “Chinatown.”

Which was a reference point for you in preparing for “Sharp Objects.”

Yeah, I used that one a lot. It’s just one of the greatest movies of all time, I think. I never get tired of watching it. But Jack Nicholson is one my favorites. I guess he’s one of all of our favorites. But in that particular film, he’s trying to solve the case, but he starts trying to solve her. So I thought early on with Jean-Marc Vallée, you know, “Sharp Objects” is kind of like “Chinatown.”

What is your favorite Amy Adams performance that isn’t “Sharp Objects” or “Julie & Julia”?

Oh, there’s so many. Can I have a tie?

Sure, pick as many as you want.

I think “The Master” and “Her.” They’re both so powerful and so different. She’s so vulnerable and unrecognizable in “Her.” It’s obviously Joaquin’s film, and I guess Scarlett Johansson on the device, but Amy comes with such artistry in that film. And on the flip side, “The Master” is so Shakespearean and powerful. She’s quiet and still, but she’s so fierce.

But it’s really hard to name because you could go on for a while with her. I would say those are my top two.

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