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starryeyedadmirer · 1 year
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Brad Pitt: Cleaning Day
-Brad x Reader-
!!CW!! — None
Synopsis: Though you enjoy spending time with your neighbor — Brad — you can’t deny that he’s got a serious hygiene issue. His body is dirty, his house is dirty… and damn, his mind is dirty too. He usually lives like an overgrown sewer rat, but — by some miracle — you’ve managed to stop by his place on a rare occasion — Cleaning Day — and, in the spirit of friendship, you’ve volunteered your help. Though he doesn’t take you up on your offer quite the way you expected him to — as far as cleaning the apartment goes — he does have a job for you… and there’s something in you that just can’t refuse it.
Words: 1,538(+/-)
A/N: I saw a few photos and gifs of Brad going to town on his belly button (posted them all below) and lost my fucking mind!!! God, these are so damn hot😫!!! The idea of him being a gross bastard to his core — just living in dirt — and helping him clean things up is like heaven in my mind… especially after seeing him dig for gold like that. Also, sorry if the writing isn’t the best. It was super late when I first wrote this, and I haven’t revised it in months. Anyway, this story doesn’t really have much to it… it’s literally just the interaction before things get weird… but I may pump out a part 2 for it, if I’m feeling up to it. Anyway, enjoy!!!
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Wattpad Link — “Celebrity Worship Fics” Series
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You love going over to Brad's house, it's your favorite hangout spot on the weekends — when you don't have to go to work. You have a good time whenever you're there — playing card games with him and his girlfriend, smoking old cigars, and drinking cheap beer, right out of the case. You feel like a kid in a playground when you're hanging out at his place... but his apartment is far from perfect. Brad's got a pretty major issue with dirt... it seems to pile up wherever he goes. He always got a bunch of shit laid out all over his place — grody, smelly underwear strewn out around the room; old food containers that needed to be thrown away ages ago; and loads of loose, stinking trash. You try to excuse his less-than-satisfactory cleaning habits... as deplorable as they are. He's a close friend of yours... and you grew up with seven older brothers at home — what's a few pairs of nasty underwear to you? If you've learned anything from your childhood, it's that a little dirt never hurt anyone... even if there's a lot of it. You're at Brad's door now — on the first Saturday of the month — waiting for him to answer your knock.
"Hey," he beams, opening up for you, "What's up, mi compadre? It's been a while, huh?" He's standing in his doorway — butt-naked — with only a set of yellow cleaning gloves to cover his hands. It's a nice sight for sore eyes — the look of his lean, toned body... his well-defined v-line, and smooth thighs — but definitely not what you were expecting to see at this time of day.
"Y—Yeah...," you stammer, trying your best to stop your eyes from wandering too far down, "... about a week... I think. How you been... man?"
"Pretty good... pretty damn good." He gives you a quick once-over with his eyes — taking note of the fact that you're wearing clothes — then looks down at himself. "Oh... uh, so about that, mi amigo. It's... uh... cleaning day around here. I like to be free when I clean... let the little guy out for some fresh air, ya know... give 'em a nice mist-bath with the good stuff."
"Uh... cool," you reply, awkwardly staring down and his junk, "Well... I hate to bother you on cleaning day, but are we still on for the evening? I brought this new racing game I think you'd like. You can make your own car... customize the license plate, and all that kind of stuff."
"Nah, man," he sighs, looking back into his den, "Can't today. Gotta fix the place up. You can, uh... come back tomorrow though. I'm game then, if you are." He rubs a hand over his chiseled abs. They're pretty great for a guy who sits around on his ass all day — well defined, like an eight-pack of bread rolls. He's gotta be on steroids, or some hard drugs — it's the only explanation that could make any sense... for everything.
"Yeah... yeah... I'm down with that. I'll definitely come by tomorrow. I'm still free today though... I could stay and help you clean if you need."
He gives you a half-cocked smile. "Nah, man... you don't have to do that."
"Oh... okay. I don't know why I even offered. I'm sure a guy in as good a shape as you can handle a thorough house-cleaning on his own."
"Oh... thanks. You won't believe this, but I'm totally stuffed right now, dude. Found an old box of donuts tucked under my bed... couldn't not eat 'em." He looks down at his stomach, and pulls at the skin on his belly button. "Guess my abs still show pretty nice, huh?"
"Yeah. They're pretty sick."
He pulls up at his skin — admiring each and every ab on his stomach — then tugs at the rim of his belly button once more. "Woah," he says to himself, "Looks pretty gnarly in there. Guess I gotta clean that too. A little spray oughta do."
Brad looks back up at you, with a douchey smirk across his face, and starts poking around inside the hole. His yellow-gloved finger swivels around within the confines of the tight rim, squelching and slipping with the sound of rubber and sweat... it does something to you. You feel yourself getting flustered almost immediately — jittery, and warm all over — although you have no idea exactly why. He's an attractive man — no doubt about that — standing completely naked before you, in all his sculpted glory.... and though he looks like a Roman dream, seeing him in his natural state isn't what's thrown you for a loop. You've been at his door for minutes now, without having a single reaction to his nudity — not even the slightest erection — and yet, the mere sight of him touching his navel has got you throbbing.
"Digging for gold, huh?" You joke, trying to diffuse your sudden tension. "Those gloves really came in handy. Wouldn't wanna get all that gunk on your finger."
"Sure," he shrugs, putting the rubbery digit up to his right nostril. There's specks of black dirt and lint all over it — gross stuff from the depths of his umbilical hole. It's obvious that it hasn't seen a drop of soap in ages... but what else would you expect from a guy like him? Brad's the kind of guy who brags about how many days he can go with a single pair of underwear around his hips (8 days is his most recent record)... who fills his tub up with bleach, to wash his dirty sheets when they start to stink... the kind of slob who eats months-old donuts from under his bed, without a single qualm. "Woah... that stinks," he groans, pulling his head back from his finger, "Get a whiff of that."
He puts his hand up to your face, swiping the black speckles right over your lips. "Woah! God, man! What's on that thing," you exclaim. Acting purely on instinct, you push his hand away, and cover your nose with your shirt. His glove smells disgusting — of old cheese and festering sweat — like the deepest crevice of an armpit, that hasn't seen a single swipe of deodorant for years. You can only describe the odor as... horrid. "Damn, Brad! You gotta spray something in there, dude! What the fuck!"
"I know... that's awful." He closes his eyes for a second, taking another swipe of the scent for himself, and leans in. "You, uh.... said you're free today, right?"
"Yeah... I am."
"Well, uh... if you insist on staying, you could help me clean. An assistant spot just opened up around here... cleaning assistant, that is... and I know a good place where you can start."
"Really? Okay. What do you want me to clean first?"
He grabs your shoulder with his soiled glove, and ushers you into his apartment. "Here's the thing, man. Um... I'm gonna need a little help getting around in there, ya know? Why don't you, uh... get down on the floor... and clean it out for me. I swear it's not a big job... just something quick... for the both of us."
"W—What's that?"
"It's, uh... it's my belly button. Go ahead and get in there for me... clean it up a little." He forces you onto your knees with a smile on his face, looking down at you like you're one of the numerous streetwalkers that he pays to sleep with him, every now and then. "Get going, man... that thing won't clean itself." His dick is right in front of your face — hanging over his balls — half-erect.
"Uh... okay... you answer," staring nervously at his cock. That hot feeling in your face intensifies — shooting throughout your entire body — and commands you to do as he pleases. "Want me to use that blue spray over on the windowsill? That's Windex, right? I think Windex is pretty good on skin."
"No... no," he whispers, "Use your tongue... like a cat. The tongue is a great tool, dude... nature's sponge. They're super sensitive... can get into every nook and cranny of any object. Just feel around in there, man... pick out some of the crap. I know there's a lot more gunk where that came from." His hand gently caresses your chin, pulling you in closer to the shallow hole. You can smell it from where you are — the terrible sweaty odor is ripe on your nostrils.
"The... the crap?"
"Yeah. Go ahead, man... time's a'ticking. Oh, and once you finish the job, I'll let you play that racing game on the TV in my bedroom... while I clean this place up. But you gotta do it well, okay. I'll watch you work... and inspect it once you're done. It don't have to be spotless... just lick around until you don't taste anymore dirt." His dick twitches in front of your face, perking up at the mere thought of you licking his belly button. He's got lust in his eyes, and that same douchey grin on his face — staring down at you. "Now, let's see that pretty little tongue of yours get to work, huh."
"Oh... okay. Sure."
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Thanks for reading ❤️❤️❤️!!!
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dilfwaynes · 3 years
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Can I request in a headcanon for dating margot Robbie (with female reader) sfw and nsfw 👀💗
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ive been waiting for this moment thx anon
parings ; margot robbie x fem!reader
warning ; the readers a bitch in the beginning, smut, dom/sub themes
a/n: if margot robbie ever comes across this ill kms. tell me if u like it anon. not edited !!
you first caught her eye at the once upon a time in hollywood premier, when she saw you and leo engaged in a conversation
her and brad little ways by the bar carrying their own conversation, or at least trying.
her attention failing at brad as her eyes keep drifting back to you and your little black dress
“brad whos that girl?” stopping mid word and turning to margots line of sight, face souring.
“not a fan?” she asks confused at his distrain for you
“that’s y/n l/n, jackass journalist for vogue. pretty but a real snobby bitch, also fakes her shit.” brad adds, bitterly knocking back his drink
margot raises her eyebrows but goes no farther with questions, continuing to watch you from ajar
that is until you and leo part ways at the table shes occupying 
her eyes settling on the navel of the low cut of your dress, following to slit of the fabric and the smooth legs and thighs exposing with each step of your heels
leo’s laugh enters the area of her and brad as you both stop at the table. your face amused lightly
“well that’s my cue for tonight, always a pleasure dicaprio,” your eyes meets the blondes for a second before hardening at brad
a smug look quickly washes over though as you pass,”pitt.” you mutter finding pleasure at the way he stiffens and glares softly
he rolls his eyes and goes back to his drink
leo snorts at the encounter before his attention goes to margot, which seems to be on the behind of you
“oh good luck with that one robbie.”
she glances at him confused but drops it when he doesn’t bulge
the next time you see each other is when she understands what brad means
truth be told within the first seconds of the interview she already settles on the choice she definitely hates you, or at least dislikes
for reason no doubt, you were a hotshot vogue journalist and you shown it by your attitude
 only interviewing the most popular celebrities, if you deemed them worthy enough that is
obviously with margot finishing up once upon hollywood and on press tour, you were scheduled for a sit down with her
and my god did you have a god complex about your status and your role at vogue
when first walking in you barely acknowledged her or her introduction/greeting. giving a small nod and a quick mutter of your name back
you were barely interested in any talk of the movie and only seemed to ask personal things, as well as push her buttons
you enjoyed getting under people’s skin, especially margot’s because fuck shes hot when shes mad
the way her eyebrow would raise and jaw stain under the pressure she’s applying
”well this is over i’ll say, though one more question,”you pause smirking slightly, margot holds in her breathe as she awaits your question.”are the claims of your divorced with tom ackerley true? as well as the rumors of him cheating?”
her eyes widen in astonishment face turning red, from anger or embarrassment she doesn’t know
you flutter your eyes, eyebrows shooting down as you flash a fatuous smile at the obvious hidden answer behind’s the actress silence and flushed cheeks
“i think that wraps it.” you swiftly grab the lather clad notebook and pen
breaking out of her shock state she quickly grips your wrist tight, her face vexed and her jawline sharp with ireful”where did you find that out from.”
you bite your lip at her expression, her fingers squeezing harder at your wrist as a way to hurry you to tell
“don’t worry robbie that was an off the table question, it’ll be free from tablets.” you reassure, prying her fingers off slowly as her expression calms
your snatch your coat to protect you from the winter of new york, starting at the blonde as she just leans into her chair
you roll your eyes before opening your notebook and inking down your number, ripping out the paper giving it to her
“here if you’re gonna be in nyc for a few days call me and we can go out for dinner or lunch.”
not waiting for her answer you leave
later that day staring at your number rushed out on the paper, she decides to text you
‘is your offer still on the table?’
‘depends, are you ok with plans at my place while i work on my article on you?”
you smile at her smiley face at the end of of the text
you got under her skin today and completely torn down her usual nice personality
you were obviously attracted to her and you knew that, hell she even has to know that unless she never looked at herself in the mirror before
you texted her your address and not more than 10 minutes later shes at your door
her hotel must have been in upper east side as well
“i wanna apologize for how i acted when you asked me that question, it was out of line for me to touch you.”
you laughed this was definitely a first, someone apologizing for snapping at you when you were the cause of it
“it’s fine, the question was rather... intense,” you finished not knowing how to label the question honestly..”how long are you in town for?”
her eyes snaps towards the now filling wine glass in front her, trying to avoid the clear peak of your exposed chest at your angle.
“a few weeks, doing some press time and other things here.” she replies as you sit across from her
the rest of the night actually is nice and fun, something margot hasn’t had in awhile. though she’s surprised at the lack of bit in you that she saw only hours prior
you were lighter than you let on and you did have a bite, just learning towards more of an entitled brat than a bitch
“i have to ask before i leave, how did you know all that information?”
you pause at her question, you knew it was bound to be asked sooner or later
i’m friends with the girl’s cousin, i got told the gossip as soon as she told my friend. always the assistant, eh?”
she lets a loud laugh at your attempt of trying to lessen the awkwardness and tension with your bad joke
you giggle along with her kinda going heart shape eyes at her laugh and her scrunched up face
the night ends smoothly with her returning back to the hotel even though you offered her to stay at your place
oddly after that night the next few weeks are spent with each other mostly in your penthouse on your couch watching pulp fiction and everything else in between
and fuck do you yourself falling so fast and hard for her
in the nearing days of margot’s leave her divorce gets let out and quickly finds comfort in you in the late nights
“i feel so stupid, i trusted him so much that i ignored all the obvious hints of him cheating.”
you stare back at her as your faces are only inches away in your bed
“you’re not stupid, he’s just a dumb jerk,” you reply softly, smiling at her adorable laugh.”its true”
her laugh fades out while her smile is still placed, tucking your hair behind your ear.
you feel your heartbeat speed with her grabbing your chin between her fingers and lean towards you
closing the small gap and kissing you, snaking her around your waist and tugging you on top of her
you gasp at the sudden change in the kiss, soft and gentle switching to desperate and rough
she groans when you pull back gasping for air, lips swollen and now a wet spot in your underwear
she stares up at you in her lap and her hands now placed on your hips 
without a second thought you latch yourself back to her moaning at her soft squeezing and touches
“please.” she chokes out kissing your hip as she tugs your shirt, silently begging you to take it off
you grab the hem of your shirt and margot quickly helps you out of the oversized shirt
reveling your dark green lace set
practically melting in the way margot stares up at you and her now rough grip on your waist
pulling you back down and slamming her lips against yours
whines slips out when you feel her fingers enter you, swallowing your moans and cries
settling in between her pretty thighs after cumming and relishing in her moans
the night finally ends with you both entangled and her arm around your waist and her face in your neck
the next day beginning with you waking up first and quietly peeling away from margot, once again going heart eyes at the sight of her
opening up the fridge and getting everything out to make breakfast, turning on the stove and cooking everything you know margot likes
smiling when you feel arms wrapping around your waist and a kiss pressed against your shoulder.
“good morning gorgeous,”you murmur shutting off the stove and turning to face her”you wanna talk before or after breakfast.” you ask figuring its better to address the obvious
“before”
you both admit that you gained feelings for each other these past few weeks and having sex did add onto that
you both agree not to rush anything and ease into your new feelings and just take it slow
“i really like you, i just need more time to heal and trust again.”
the conversation ends and pretty much know where you both stand and want
the next few days margot spends at your place, watching tv, eating and everything else together
as well as ending most nights talking about everything and anything and a lot of quick kissing 
the final night of her stay in nyc holding a sad drag to it
your chest already hurting at the thought of not seeing her everyday, especially these last few
you both say goodbye at your place as you cant make it to the airport bc of work, and you wouldn’t be able to give a  proper goodbye with each other at the airport
at least one you both wanted anyways
you both ease into video chatting and texting alot
sending cute and corny shit to laugh at
margot sends the most useless shit but u pretend to be interested
also sends good morning and night texts like :((
she’s adorable
once shes back in australia timezones become a huge thing since shes 12 hours ahead
and eventually it comes to you both barely getting to talk since you have work throughout the day and by the time you’re done ur jumping into the bed and sleeping
-
“is that l/n smiling? am i seeing correctly?”
you rolls your eyes,”i dont know, is that chris evans in new york? instead of boston.” you shake your head and get up to greet him
he laughs and hugs you, lifting you up slightly.
“gotta see my best girl sometime,”you roll your eyes but still smile”now what has you smiling.”
your smile widens and you blush, flushing worse when chris starts to tease you
the teasing only getting worse when you all but utter the word ‘talking’
“let’s talk about it over dinner, on me.”
“fine but its just dinner, nothing more evans. that boat already sailed in the 2000s” you warn, grabbing your coat and walking out.
-
“whats got mar smiling over there,” shutting off her phone and turning to her siblings
“you know what’s got her smiling,” she rolls her eyes at their laughter, jumping in between the middle of them
attention on the movie playing on the screen until it gets paused, she looks confused at her sister and brother
“margot you should see this,” she raises her eyebrow but grabs the phone anyways
‘CHRIS EVANS AND VOGUE JOURNALIST Y/N L/N LIGHTING AN OLD FLAME?’
clenching her jaw she sits the phone down, getting up and grabbing her own.
‘if you wanted to fuck someone you could’ve just told me instead of doing it behind my back’
she fumes when it hits the hour mark and still no reply. seething silently while trying to focus her attention at the tv school and siblings.
-
you groan sitting upright and looking over at chris passed on the floor
 searching for your phone at the sound of a ring, eyes squinting at the amount of texts and calls
ignoring them all and reading the one from margot, confused because last time you checked the last person you slept with was her, and that was a few months ago.
opening other texts you click on the link sent, hissing at the headline.
“WAKE THE FUCK UP CHRIS!” throwing at pillow at him before turning back to text margot.
spamming out an expectation and denial to the tablet
heart pounding when see her typing
‘it’s fine even if you were, you own no expectation as we’re not seeing each other. whatever we’re doing should be put off, i think it’ll be for the best for both our professions.’
you reread the text another ten times before you finally register it
realizing she still doesn’t believe you and think you did the same thing you comforted her about
you rush to your room yanking open your closet and shoving clothes into your suitcase and flying out the door and cabbing to the airport
completely ignoring chris still on your floor, he’ll figure out the situation when he wakes up.
-
landing in australia nighttime and hailing a cab, jabbing out the address
“y/n?”
you walked past her into the house and spinning to face,”listen chris and i didn’t do anything ok? that headline was bs, chris and i haven’t been anything since like 2008” you rush out explaining.
waiting for her reply she grabs the back of your neck instead and quickly kisses you, confused but choosing to kiss her back
“you literally came all the way to australia to explain, i know you’re telling the truth.”
squeezing your hip she brings you back into her
nails digging into your sides
“my room now.”
stumbling onto the large bed the back of your legs hitting the mattress
“maybe we can film a little video yeah? send it to evans, let him see you getting your back blowed.”
you mewl at her now aggressiveness and dirty talk, her accent deepening
“i’m gonna fuck you so bad pretty girl, i got something just for you hold on.” she lets go of you and disappears in her closet within seconds.
coming back with a strap in her hand and shirt off define chest and back
tugging on your tennis skirt,”such a little tease, take it off.”
slipping out of it as well as your top, quietly waiting for her next demand
“lay back for me sweet girl,”she sets the strap around her as you watch leaning on your elbows, already drooling
moaning when the tip bumps your folds, her hand interlocking with yours. head buried in your neck as she slowly pushes the strap in
“tell me if it hurts sweet girl,” you squeeze your eyes at the pain starting from the inches sinking into you.”got this just for you, i was supposed to fly you out soon and fuck you nice and gentle. but i reckon the circumstances are different now.”
you gasp when she snaps her hips up and lifts your leg to wrap around her waist, giving her the angle to go deeper inside you.
pain fading and pleasure taking over completely
hands on your hips with a bruising grip, the bed shaking lightly
“what if i called your little ex chris huh? let him hear how you sound getting fucked into MY mattress, let him hear you scream my name.”
you feel the coil in your stomach begging to snap and for release
“i-i’m gonna cum margot, fuck im so close.”
“then cum sweetheart, cum for me.”
you definitely do cum with a loud dragged out whine and clawing her back and leaving long scratch marks in your wake.
your vision covered by black dots
“enjoyed yourself sweetheart?”
you calm down your breathing and turn to her, taking her hand and kissing it.”so much,” you inch closer to her and bring her arm around you.”i would never do what he did to you.” you tell her softly
“never?”
“never.”
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whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years
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Scream            part 3
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Part Three: Host Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Platonic Peter Parker x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Warning: Swearing, fighting. Summary: With the fear that Scream is still inside you, you confine in Bucky. A/N: Im so glad people are enjoying this as much as I am. Let me know if you would like to be tagged when Part 4 is out.  Master list of chapters
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You tried to brush it off climbed into the bed and under the sheets, attempting to get lost in the feeling of the silk on your skin and just when you thought you were drifting off. You cant get rid of me that easy.
The next morning you found yourself in the kitchen sat at a rather large table, poking at the bowl of chopped fruit in front of you. You thoughts were else where and despite the growl of your stomach you couldn’t stop thinking about her voice. All night you felt like you were talking to yourself trying to get her to speak again, so you knew you weren’t going crazy but she never responded. You couldn’t shake the fear that she might still be inside you some how. Laying down your spoon you ran your fingers through your hair attempting to come back to reality. That’s when Peter walked into the room, you sent him a small warm smile and sat back in your chair watching him for a moment. He sent you a smile back but he seemed a little scared of you, his reaction caused you to sigh and look away from the boy. That look alone made you feel like a monster.
“I never got the chance to say thank you for saving my life” attempting to break the tension, the froze for a moment holding an apple in his hand. He just nodded, thinking about his next move. He eventually decided to sit beside you at the table, nervously playing with the fruit he held. “What’s on your mind kid?” you questioned, carefully watching his actions. “She... Scream – she said that we were the same...” his words barely surpassing a whisper, he hung his head down a little trying to make sense of the words. “I mean, she could shoot webs...” he added clearly lost in thought. “Don’t let her do that to you, don’t let her get in your head, Peter.” Resting your hand on his arm to reassure him, you gave him another warm smile. “Trust me, you’re nothing like her. Regardless of what she can and cant do.” He responded with a nod, his smile seemed genuine but not convinced. Pulling your hand away from him to pick up your fork again, you started stabbing at the fruits in the bowl. You heard Peter push away from the table and walk towards the door. You assume he had left but you could sense someone. You looked up at the doorway for a moment at first no one appeared, so you shoved the fork full of fruits finally into your mouth keeping your eyes on the doorway. It wasn’t long until Bucky strolled into the kitchen.
He didn’t say anything at first, he just made his way to the cabinet and pulled out a glass before turning to the skin to get a glass of water. You swallowed your mouthful, your hand covering your mouth attempting to be lady like. Once he had finished gulping down the water, he nodded your way “Hey” he spoke simply yet it still managed to send butterflies into your stomach. “Hey” you smiled back at the man, your eyes wandered away like you were thinking of something. Bucky noticed your expression to soften almost instantly, which only caused his brow to cock. “What’s up” he asked leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. You just looked up at him and scrunched your face a little, deciding if he was trust worthy enough to tell about last nights episode. “Erm – Last night when I was falling asleep” You started, taking a few moments you chewed on your thumb before you continued. “I could have sworn she spoke to me again” you admitted, fear striking your face as the words left you mouth. He just shook his head before making his way over to you, taking the spot that Peter previously sat in. “No, no! You just had a long day. Pretty traumatic day actually. I’m sure it was just your mind playing tricks on you” As he attempted to reassure you, you mimicked Peter’s unsure nod as you looked up into his eyes. “Hey, I have nothing planned for today. I’ll stay close by, just incase” he added, giving you his best reassuring smile. “Thank you” you whispered back at him, almost feeling guilty for making him babysit you for the day but the guilt wasn’t anywhere as heavy as the fear.
-
As the sun started to disappear behind the hills, you found yourself in the communal area, tucked into a blanket reading one of your favourite books that you managed to find in the 1000’s of bookshelves jotted around the place. You snuggled into the corner of the sofa, engrossed in the words on the pages. Bucky had kept to his promise, he barley left your side all day, in fact the only time you were ever alone was when you went to the bathroom. He sat close by to you but not too close, he thought you looked far too comfy and didn’t want to ruin it. Peering down at the pages you were reading, keen to know what had you so engrossed. You looked up at him, though now his eyes were glued to the page, it made you laugh slightly which broke his attention. “You like Fight Club?” you asked, a smirk still plastered across your lips. “Never heard of it.” The words made your jaw drop, How had he never heard of Fight Club, hell everyone had seen the movie right? “What?” he added, noting your expression. “How... It’s Fight Club, I get not reading the book but the movie?” he just shook his head at your words as he laid back into the sofa a little more, his arms resting on the head rest. “You mean to tell me you’ve never had to question your sexuality watching Brad Pitt wear crop tops?” He just laughed in your direction, the comment clearly tickled him a little more than he had planned. “Oh we are so watching Fight Club, what the hell!” clearly excited by the idea, you shut your book and placed it down next to you.
As you and Bucky shared a laugh at your over enthusiasm over Brad Pitt’s navel, the voice came back. Oh how cute, like young love. Instantly you stopped laughing replacing your smile with confusion. Oh just stop teasing yourself, just kiss him already. The voice laughed. Bucky picked up on the quick mood change and sat up in his chair, his hands reaching to hold your arm to calm you but you turned your head towards the doorway suspecting someone was coming and like clock work, Steve turned the corner. It was starting to creep you out now but you chose not to mention it. He looked like he had some news to share which meant the voice in your head would have to wait. “I hope I’m not interrupting something” Steve teased, cocking his eyebrow up at Bucky who responded with a sarcastic smile before his eyes wandered back to you, scanning you to make sure you was okay. “So just as we were about to leave, for Carlton Drake. The news informed us that one of his rockets blew up as it was taking off – When we looked deeper at the footage... It looked like he was on there” he paused, insinuating that he had met his end... but in a freak accident, it didn’t seem likely. “We did more digging, turns out Scream wasn’t the only Klyntar he was holding onto. We don’t know how many but...” Venom. You looked around confused for a moment, you could feel rage bubble up inside you but it wasn’t yours. The pain and confusion seemed far too much for you as your eyes welled up slightly. Every other time she made an appearance you could feel how infectious her confidence was but not this time, this time she felt completely different... she felt scared.
You looked up at Steve as he seemed to still be talking “Venom” you’re words interrupting his. The men looked at you confused for a moment before you looked back at Bucky. “She’s still there.” You whispered, despite knowing full well Steve could hear you. “I don’t know what it means but, she seems scared... maybe that’s one of them.” You shook your head slightly, attempting to help the situation as much as you could. “Captain, James... Mr Stark needs your assistance in the lobby, he says its of the urgent kind” FRIDAY broke up the awkward silence in the room and just like that all three of you made your way towards the lobby as fast as your legs could possibly take you.
-
As you bust through the door to the lobby with the two super soldiers you saw Nat, Tony, Sam and Wanda all facing a rather large being. He looked exactly like Scream only he was practically monochrome. You froze in fear as the other two raced in front of you, you wanted to move but you just couldn’t. No! She screamed, causing you to grip each side of your head and wince in pain. “He’s after Scream” Tony shouted towards the men, attempting to fill them in as quickly as possible before things turned sour. “He doesn’t believe that we got rid of her”
The large figure laughed at the billionaires words. “You think it’s that easy?” He mocked, slowly inching closer. “You think your tiny human brains can comprehend the science behind extracting a Klyntar from their host?” He pushed past Tony with ease as he made his way over to you. Your body felt like ice, your eyes welling up. Suddenly your back bent as you screamed out in pain, to everyone else you looked almost possessed. Your body slowly shifting, revealing the very thing that he had come for. Scream panted for a while but every breath sounded like a growl. “There she is” he laughed his rather large hands wrapping around her wrist. “No!” she screamed using all the energy she had to pull away from him. “You left me” her voice though already distorted started to crack. “You left me, alone. YOU LEFT ME WITH HIM” she screamed in his face, his only reaction was to laugh. “You’ve always been one for the dramatics haven’t you” he mocked pulling on her wrist. She fought as hard as she could but she was weak, she had yet to master her full hold on you but you had a feeling her weakness wasn’t the lack of bonding, no it was him. It was Venom. You need to stop him. You cried out to her, attempting to relate to her in some way.
That’s when she whipped her hair into action, wrapping around his neck she kept squeezing but it wasn’t enough, a talon formed from his body and struck her across the face. The avengers stood and watched, not know exactly who to help in this situation or if to help at all but Bucky grew more and more worried as he watched that large dark figure overpower Scream. “We have to help her” He whispered to Steve, Steve peered over his shoulder at his friend with a look of regret. “It’s not our fight, Buck” he replied simply but Bucky didn’t take no for an answer. “How is it not our fight, Y/N is there... not just Scream. If Scream dies who’s to say she doesn’t die too!” his words were fumbling over each other but Steve nodded, finally defeated with the truth of the situation.
Though it wasn’t your physical being that was beaten, you felt every punch. You could feel her getting weaker and weaker but she still stood her ground, fighting back with everything she could... well until she couldn’t. As Venom’s fist came hammering down towards her face, she allowed herself to take the back seat, giving you the control again but before you couldn’t even understand what was happening, your face met with black, completely knocking you unconscious.
When you finally woke up, you found yourself in what you could only presume was a cell. Though it wasn’t bars and a metal bed, no. It looked comfortable and the walls almost seemed invisible if it wasn’t for the blue hue. What the hell happened.
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buzzdixonwriter · 3 years
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A Night At The Opera [FICTOID]
“If I had a machete, I’d placate you,” Groucho said to Chico.
“Atsa no good,” said Chico.  “Imma too old for a placate.”
“You mean a play date?”
“No.  Placate.  You know, one of those girls with a staple in her navel.”
“You mean a playmate,” said Groucho.  “I’m afraid they don’t publish that magazine anymore.  All the playmates are too old now.”
With a loud honking, Harpo scooted by on s skateboard, doing a pivot in front of them then zipping off again.
“I may be mistaken,” said Groucho, “but I think a mop just rolled by.”
“You should get a picture of that, sell it for a million bucks.”
“A million bucks, you say?  I’ll sell it to you for five dollars.”
“It ain;t worth that much.”
A young woman in a leotard screamed and ran by, chased by Harpo with an electric hair clipper.  Behind him came Margaret Dumont, the top of her head reduced to stubble.  They disappeared on the other side of the curtain with a loud crash.
“They fell in the orchestra pit,” said Groucho.
“I thought young girls fall for Brad Pitt.”
“Only if they’re from Georgia,” said Groucho.  
“Right.  Peach pits,” said Chico.
The curtain parted and Harpo, now wearing a full dress Air Force uniform, swung by on a crane.
“Well, let’s get the opera started,” Groucho said.
“What’s tonight’s piece?” Chico asked, sitting at the piano. “John Cage’s ‘Organ2/ASLSP.”
“I don’t know that one,” said Chico, “but if you hum a few bars I’ll try to fake it.”
“Orchestrate it,” said Groucho.
“Why would I want to castrate it?” said Chico.  “That’s just nuts.”
  © Buzz Dixon
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chicagoindiecritics · 4 years
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New from Jeff York on The Establishing Shot: GI’S, JOKERS, AND JUDY: MY OSCAR PREDICTIONS FOR 2020
Oscar predictions can be tricky. The contest in each category usually comes down to two real contenders, but the Academy is often fickle and can confound. Lately, there have been few sweeps. The old days of sentimentality driving awards seem long gone. And sure-things aren’t always so. Just ask Glenn Close.
My correct/incorrect ratio for the last few years hasn’t been stellar, so if you’re thinking of following my thinking, be warned. The best I can do is offer educated guesses based on what’s winning other awards, and where the buzz lies.
So, without any further ado, here are my predictions:
BEST PICTURE: “1917” The serious British war pic will likely squeak past the subtitled, darkly comic “Parasite.”
BEST ACTOR: Joaquin Phoenix “Joker” Phoenix’s sterling performance has won the most prizes. He’s due. And the popular film scored 11 nods.
BEST ACTRESS: Renee Zellweger “Judy” Zellweger staged a big comeback and voters love rewarding actors tackling biopics.
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: Brad Pitt “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” Great performance. Beloved actor/producer/star. He’s due and he’s also given the best speeches. A lock.
BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Laura Dern “Marriage Story” She’s been sweeping the awards and is a beloved veteran who’s always good in everything. Overdue too.
BEST DIRECTOR: Sam Mendes “1917” Staging all that choreography, outdoors, in one seemingly seamless shot? It’s the showy direction all can see.
BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY: “Parasite” If Mendes doesn’t take director, Bong Joon Ho will, but he’ll get plenty of podium time, including here.
BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY: “JoJo Rabbit” It’s between Greta Gerwig for “Little Women” and Taika Waititi, but he won the WGA and BAFTA.
BEST INTERNATIONAL FEATURE FILM: “Parasite” The most certain lock of the night, and deservedly so. In another year, “Pain and Glory” would’ve been.
BEST ANIMATED FEATURE: “Toy Story 4” It could be the Annie-sweeping “Klaus,” but more voters likely saw Pixar’s beloved third sequel.
BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE: “American Factory” The Obamas helped get this documentary made. Celebrity names help. And it’s a great one.
BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY: “1917” “1917” starts to run the technical tables here with Roger Deakins stunning “one shot.”
BEST SOUND EDITING: “1917” Its only competition is “Ford v Ferrari.”
BEST SOUND MIXING: “1917” Its only competition is “Ford v Ferrari.”
BEST EDITING: “Ford v Ferrari” The winner could and should be “Parasite”, but the car race editing will be clearer to more members.
BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN: “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” Academy voters love to navel-gaze and this film turned Hollywood back to 1969. Should be irresistible.
BEST COSTUME DESIGN: “Little Women” Period pieces usually prevail. Lots of dresses do too. This one has both.
BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLING: “Bombshell” For turning Charlize Theron into Megyn Kelly and John Lithgow into Roger Ailes. Remarkably.
BEST ORIGINAL SCORE: “Joker” Who says Golden Globes don’t matter? Hildur Guonadottir’s win put her in the game and likely, the gold.
BEST ORIGINAL SONG: “(I’m Gonna) Love Me Again” from “Rocketman” Celebrity names often prevail in this category and they don’t get much bigger than Elton John.
VISUAL EFFECTS: “1917” The “Jungle Book” win could suggest “The Lion King” prevails here, but “1917” has more prestige.
BEST DOCUMENTARY SHORT SUBJECT: “Learning to Skateboard in a War Zone” Always a tough category to call. This one seems to have the momentum.
BEST ANIMATED SHORT SUBJECT: “Hair Love” It’s moving, sweet, and the most likable of this year’s animated shorts.
BEST LIVE ACTION SHORT: “The Neighbors’ Window” Most of the others are downers. This one is serious but more accessible, and even funny at times.
Those are my best guesses, but remember, Oscar always holds a few surprises. Does that mean Antonio Banderas or Adam Driver could upset Phoenix? Will “Parasite” do what “Roma” almost did last year and become the first foreign-language film to win the top prize? Or will Hollywood reward another film that is all about them like Quentin Tarantino’s latest? We shall see Sunday night.
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nofomoartworld · 7 years
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Hyperallergic: Astrological Aesthetics: April 2017 Horoscopes
Francisco Goya, “Witches Sabbath” (1797–98) (image via Museum of Lázaro Galdiano/Wikimedia Commons)
Aries (March 21–April 20)
James Franco is finished, Miley Cyrus sputtered out, and Shia LaBeouf has lost it. They say Brad Pitt is making breakup art with Thomas Houseago, but that doesn’t seem like it’s going to last. So, Aries, who do you think will be the next celebrity to attempt a crossover into art? This is basic water cooler conversation, so pay attention — you’ve been uncharacteristically socially awkward lately.
Taurus (April 21–May 21)
This is less of a Sol LeWitt month for you, Taurus, and more of an Ana Mendieta month. By that we mean that if you behave in an overly rational way, you will hit a wall, and not in a provocative, abstract, challenging-the-history-of-illusionistic-painting sort of way — just dull and boring. Channel Mendieta by embracing improvisation, instinct, and ephemerality, and you can’t go wrong in April.
Gemini (May 22–June 21)
We’ll admit that “Brie-oncé,” the sculpture of Beyoncé made of cheddar, was technically impressive, but it seems like just the first slice of what could be a veritable platter of art historical cheeses. A parmesan Parmigianino would be a delicious morsel to behold, as would a work by Francisco de Gouda, but there could also be some contemporary flavors, like a piece by Mozzarella Cattelan or Marilyn Muenster. Don’t be afraid to be cheesy this month, Gemini; just learn to ignore the haters, and they’ll leave you provolone.
Cancer (June 22–July 22)
We can’t wait for Trenton Doyle Hancock’s Broadway musical. No, it hasn’t been announced yet or even conceived, as far as we know, but we’re certain that the epic war between the playful Mounds and the cruel Vegans depicted in his riotous paintings, drawings, and sculptures will one day make for a spectacular stage musical. The really tough question, of course, is who will play his superheroic alter ego, Torpedo Boy? Remember to always take the long view, Cancer.
Leo (July 23–August 22)
Former factories and dilapidated palaces seem to be the preferred building types for the current wave of contemporary art museums, but what sorts of architectural spaces will people be turning into sleek white cubes 20 years from now? That was a rhetorical question, Leo — the answer is suburban malls. The countless abandoned malls strewn throughout suburbia will make amazing art spaces. This month you’ll need to stay a few steps ahead of current trends if you want to keep your job.
Virgo (August 23–September 23)
Remember Jacob Kassay? You’d be forgiven if you didn’t; his work is grade-A boring, and after skyrocketing to art stardom circa 2011, he disappeared from view. That’s what makes him so relevant to your current predicament, Virgo. This month, you will face adversity, but you can’t let it affect you. Keep doing what’s right for you — which, in Kassay’s case, seems to be Judd-ian architectural abstractions.
Libra (September 24–October 23)
There are so many great paintings of solitary artists toiling in their studios — we’re partial to Nicole Eisenman’s “Were Artist” (2007). But this month, Libra, you need to get out, breathe in some fresh air, and reconnect with your colleagues and community. There will be plenty of other times to hole up in your studio, navel-gaze, and make work by the light of the full moon.
Scorpio (October 24–November 22)
You’ll be faced with an acute case of a familiar problem this month, Scorpio: an abundance of inspiration and a paucity of money for materials. If you’re based in New York, we have three words for you: Materials for the Arts; if you’re based elsewhere, it’s time to get resourceful and inventive. Do you really need to paint on canvases? What about secondhand clothes or old rugs? Does your vision absolutely have to be executed in clay, or would some curbside Ikea discards do the trick? Seize the day, and the day’s trash.
Sagittarius (November 23–December 21)
You must have a retrospective coming up, Sagittarius, because this is an astrologically ideal month to realize all your long-brewing projects. Bring all your obscure work out of storage and dust it off, pursue public art commissions and crossover branding opportunities — would that sculpture make a good mass-produced toy? how would that painting look on a T-shirt? — and consider bringing a documentary film crew along for the ride. This is your moment, which means you actually need to work harder than ever before.
Capricorn (December 22–January 20)
Do you ever look at Shinique Smith‘s sculptures and wonder what the heck kind of form is lurking under all those layers of clothes? They can’t be clothes all the way through, can they? It’s important that you ask yourself these sorts of questions this month, Capricorn, because you’re going to meet some people who dress very colorfully and seductively, and you need to be able to see past their enticing façades to discern who will actually be good for you.
Aquarius (January 21–February 19)
The careers of artists like Marina Abramović and David Hockney span sharp generational fault lines. People who were around when they made their most arresting and pathbreaking work have a deep respect for their legacies, while younger folks who’ve only been around for their self-mythologizing and lazy later periods see them as aloof has-beens. You’ll end up in the middle of a pitched intergenerational dispute this month, Aquarius, and your ability to diffuse the situation will be dependent on recognizing the nature of the disconnect.
Pisces (February 20–March 20)
What a peculiar kind of heartbreak it must be, Pisces, to hold onto a cherished work of art for decades, to take daily pleasure in looking at it, to finally decide to part with it, and then to see it sell well below its estimate at auction. That rare mix of emotional investment and material upheaval is the closest art analogy we could find to your truly bizarre astrological forecast for April: it is highly probable you will wind up engaged or even married by the end of the month, but slightly less likely that you will be truly in love. Keep the gap between the two in mind when considering any proposals or propositions that come your way before May.
The post Astrological Aesthetics: April 2017 Horoscopes appeared first on Hyperallergic.
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