#i got swindled by one kid into giving her two bags of candy

[kriskalutz]

I wanted to get at least the first post of my new legacy out tonight (granted its past midnight now so no more Halloween rip) but the rest I plan on tossing out later tommorrow.

Also hope you all had a good Halloween if you celebrated! Most of our treaters came by yesterday: its a tradition around here for kids to come the 30th around the hollars and get candy first, then participate in the city’s big Halloween Trick or Treat event on the 31st. Still had to watch out today because sometimes kids will come from the city event and go treating up in the hollars on the same day lol.

[hansensgirl]

push it to the limit.

summary. | As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him.

warnings. | Non/Dubcon, watersports, obsessive behaviour, coercion, bribery, dark themes, drinking (champagne), hate fucking, unprotected sex, rough sex, public sex, dumbification, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation, breeding kink, choking, allusions to anal, reader is really rude (so is Niki), *sexism/misogyny/paying for sex (see a/n), and more. 18+, MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.4k

pairings. | Dark!Niki Lauda x Reader, James Hunt x Reader (it’s one-sided).

author’s note. | please enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. *he talks about paying you for sex as a way to degrade you, it’s brief and in german! it does not reflect anything about me or my blog. we are pro-sex work here! it’s just fiction.

“Look! There he is!” a small voice tells you, pointing somewhere with a great distance. You’re not sure how he manages to spot his favourite racer from so far. Among the sea of heads, your younger brother sits on your shoulders. You can feel him touching you down to your bones, and you try to ignore the pain just for him. “You sure? You said that five times before, y’know,” you denote, and you hear the six-year-old groan. “Yes, I’m sure! Look, he’s drinking that nasty stuff like always,” he adds, and you realize he’s talking about James’s signature champagne.

“It’s not nasty,” you mumble under your breath, remembering the way the pleasant liquid felt and tasted against your tongue. Sticky gold is what you’d describe it as, and you recall how it stained your skin. Shaky hands are bound to tremor even more under pressure, and your friend is an absolute clutz. It’s no wonder she made such a mess, as it is one of her best traits. But a particular pair of hands that seemed to have Midas’s touch cleaned you up, and you still to this day wish you were awake to thank them. You have many regrets, but that’s just a small one.

“Can we go closer to the fence? I want to try and talk to him,” your brother politely requests, and you let out a heavy sigh. Your mouth is pressed in a line, and you begin to shift your feet. You’ve got boots made of suede, a brown colour that always seems to go best with your all-black outfits. There’s a matching jacket on you as well, and it has fur on the cuffs and collar.

“What’s the marvel of watching it in person rather than watching it on television? Out here, we struggle so much, and you can barely even watch them properly. On the television, well, you see it all, and you can be as comfortable as you want,” you wonder out loud, and the child holds onto you tightly. He squeezes your head tightly, and the ribbon in your hair begins to fall in your face. It’s white silk, with a lovely hem to it. You save it for these races your sibling always wants to go to. Your other coloured ones are left for daily excursions, and sometimes a good party, too.

“Excuse me!” you loudly call out, and other women cast you nasty glares. You’ve seen those same looks one too many times, and you don’t pay any mind to them. If they truly care about their spots, they’d stand up and fight for them. But they’re just like babies with a piece of candy in their tiny fists. Maybe a jellybean, or perhaps even a pack of those oh so enjoyable Sour Patch Kids. “Why do you like only him?” you ask, raising both your eyebrows as you get closer to the fence. “I like James and Niki!” he exclaims loudly, and you loop your fingers between the holes of the fence.

“Niki? As in Niki Lauda? That arrogant, Austrian asshole?” you question in shock, not minding your foul language at all. “Yes! The guy that Dad hates. He’s cool, and he’s fast,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “Honestly? There’s nothing cool about him. He’s just… fast. James is the cool one,” you argue, and you can hear him groaning. “You like James Hunt because he looked at you that one time,” he snaps back in annoyance, and you sigh dreamily in remembrance. “Exactly! Now I need to look for Niki, I wanna say hi to him!” your brother exclaims, and your eyes scan the entrance area for Niki Lauda.

“Don’t just say hi to him; ask him for an autograph! We can sell it to one of his fans afterwards. They’re always dying for anything of his,” you propose, and your brother simply ignores the swindling ways that you’ve inherited from your grandfather since you were a kid. It’s the reason why you tend to find purses with deep pockets and smooth zippers that don’t pinch on the inner fabric. You reach into your bag, and you grab a marker that you’ve always got with you.

The crowd gets louder and louder, almost as if you’ve got headphones on your head and you want to turn down the volume, but you keep hitting the wrong button. A woman shrieks in your left ear, and a man whoops in the other. More bodies press against you, and with the marker in between two of your digits, you hope that you don’t return home with billions of bruises. On the big screen, recaps from the previous races are being played. It’s win after win, all on behalf of Niki Lauda and his incredible luck that doesn’t seem to have any end.

You’re finally able to make out what people are screaming; the curly-haired man’s name. “Niki! I love you!” they all shout, and you wonder if any of them like James. It seems like you haven’t found your people, and maybe just for today, you’re the odd one out. “Seems like you’re not the only one that has Niki amongst their favourites,” you grumble, and your brother lets out a giggle. A few moments later, he sits up far more proper on your shoulders. The hand with the marker in it grabs onto one of his legs, and you make sure he doesn’t fall down and ends up being the true loser of this race.

“Niki! I’m your biggest fan!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, using his full voice and then some. You look over to the entrance, and you spot the brooding Austrian wrapped in red walking out with a deep frown on his face. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but your brother doesn’t care about your deep annoyance towards his idol. Niki shoots a look over to where you’re both standing, and your brother waves his arms from side to side, trying to get the racer’s attention. Even if he doesn’t, you have a feeling that Niki will be more displeased than anything.

It only makes sense, as he always acts that way with his fans though they’re the only people who appreciate him.

His nose is upturned, and he tries to pinpoint your brother and his powerful screams. High-pitched yet so loud, it’s no wonder why his tantrums are the root for almost all household headaches. “He’s looking over here,” you tell him, and your brother nods. “Yeah, because of me! He’s going to come, and I’m going to meet him!” he squeals, somehow connecting none existent dots to fuel a form of hope that dwindles inside him. You can be mean, but you’re not cruel. So you won’t be a realist, and you’ll let the youth on your shoulders believe what he wants to think.

“And when you meet him, ask him to sign something,” you advise, not letting go of your chance to make a few hundred dollars. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s pondering whether or not he should do it. “Niki! I love you!” the woman next to you screams as if she’s using every bit of her energy to get him to notice her. Your head already starts to ache just a bit, and you wish you brought some form of a pain killer. Niki saunters over to the fence, and for some reason, you don’t feel proper behind the fence.

It’s the way he carries himself with the highest of heads, a sort of confidence dragging with his every step. He knows he can do anything right now, and everybody except you would love him for it. He could make an entire turn and not greet his fans, and they’ll laugh it off. You’ve witnessed his haughtiness, and there’s no doubt inside you that you’ll see it again. “Niki! Good luck on the race!” a person says, and the rest of the crowd laughs at them.

“Dude, he doesn’t need your luck,” someone next to them says before elbowing the poor fan’s ribs. You can hear them wince in pain before they start to scream at the racer once again. Niki raises his hands up to his chest, almost as if he’s surrendering to something. That bratty smirk of his is replaced by a cheerful smile, and while everyone adores it, you see right through the façade. “Hello, everyone!” he greets, and you already want to roll your eyes until they fall back into your skull.

Niki stands right in front of you, and you try to look somewhere other than his face. Your view darts wildly until you finally settle on looking at the exceptionally boring asphalt underneath your feet. The screaming quiets down, and you wonder if everything is okay. “Uhm, Mr. Niki Lauda? I love you! I’m such a big fan! I watch all of your races, and I try to go to them all! Can I have an autograph?” your brother gleefully expresses, and you snap your head up at his words.

Much to your dismay, you lock gazes with the man you hate most in this entire stadium. His eyes are rather dull, yet they’ve got a sort of darkness in them that makes you feel just a tad bit uneasy. Both begrudgingly and excitedly, you hand the marker to your brother, who, in turn, gives it to his idol. Niki takes it gratefully, and he raises his least dominant hand. The other fans try to reach for it, for him. But he ignores them, and he gives a high-five to your brother.

You can’t hear the sound of their palms meeting because the displeasure of the crowd drowns it all out. “What do you want me to write it on?” Niki questions, taking the cap off of the marker. “Uhm, my shirt?” he offers, stretching the red fabric towards the elder. You observe as the racer awkwardly signs his name on your brother’s clothing, and you know that your Mother is going to be more than angry. Your Father, on the other hand, will be filled with pride and excitement.

“Thank you so much!” the child squeals, and Niki simply waves his hand as if it was no big deal to him. But you know that deep down inside, he was probably a bit annoyed. “Do you want an autograph, Miss?” Niki asks, and you take note of how his demeanour has changed. His features are softer, and his eyes seem to be lit up. “Oh, uh, no, thank you. I’m waiting for James. I love him a lot,” you tell him, pushing your shoulders back in confidence. The people around you let out gasps, and they follow their sounds up with whispers that aren’t so hushed.

Niki’s face drops, and you give him your fakest smile. He stares at you, almost as if he wants to lash out and scream. Maybe even call you a name or two. “That’s alright,” he assures after a while, and you have the urge to say something snarky. He hands the marker back to your brother, who is too busy being in awe of his favourite racer to listen to you being on your worst behaviour. Niki walks off, but this time, his stride lacks his boldness. “He’s so cool!” your brother squeals, staring at the Sharpie. You sigh, knowing that you two will constantly butt heads over Niki.

“Well, I beg to disagree.”

“Niki! Is everything okay?” one of the mechanics asks, and the star nods his head mindlessly. Instead of pressing him for some sort of answer, he leaves Niki alone to mull all by himself. There is not one person who dares to talk to him before the race unless it has to do with the car or the competition itself. It’s out of pure fear because nobody likes to face the Austrian’s wrath. From screaming way too loudly to piercing, uncomfortable stares, he never knows how to properly communicate with others.

He gazes at you from just a few mere metres away. His eyes are like ice, and he hopes you can feel the coldness from where you are. He really fucking hopes you do. You’ve got that sultry look to you, and it’s not cast towards him. No, it isn’t at all, and it irks him all the way to his bones. You ogle James fucking Hunt. Of all the other inferior racers there, you choose to admire James, and Niki hates you both for that. At every single race, he’s seen you show up to, you never look at him.

You don’t acknowledge him at all. It doesn't just hurt his ego; it also breaks his heart. Your preference and love for the Englishman injure those butterflies inside Niki’s stomach, and yet they still continue to flutter. The funniest, most ironic part of everything is that the races you attend always end with Niki being the winner. Never James. But you still idolize him over the Austrian, and he’s tired of it.

“Make sure it goes fast, okay? Fast, but nothing should catch on fire or malfunction,” Niki tells his technicians, and they halt what they’re doing. “But, Sir-” one of them starts, and Niki closes his fist for them. “No,” he simply states before crossing his arms once again. Niki looks back over to you, and you’ve now got a smile on your face. He loves the sight, but he knows his adoration will turn sour in a few seconds once he follows your line of gaze. So he chooses not to, and he decides to use you as his motivation.

The racers all go to their cars, and they pull their helmets on. Some are dressed in black, some in white, and only two in red. James and Niki. Niki is surrounded by his team, and James has twice the number of people next to him. Along with mechanics are girls in short skirts with jackets similar to yours. Deep down, you wish you could switch places with one of them, but maybe it isn’t as good as it seems to be. Perhaps your spot behind the fence with your younger sibling is what’s meant for you.

Your neck is more than exhausted. Your shoulders have a unique pain to them, one that not even doctors can begin to describe. Your bones are in desperate need of a crack, and your muscles crave a lengthy stretch that’ll leave you shaking. Yet, you continue to stand there with no complaints ready to fly off your tongue. The whooping behind you is so loud, but you’ve gotten used to it. “C’mon, Niki! You can do it!” your brother cries out, clapping his hands in excitement.

Niki flashes a thumbs up, and he looks at you one last time. As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him. Perhaps this time, you’ll realize he’s the best racer there is. He takes a deep breath, and he reassures himself that he’ll win as always.

“I have a feeling Niki is going to win this one,” the lady next to you says, and her friends nod their heads in utter agreement. You want to ask why she thinks that, but you’ve already left a bad taste in the crowd’s mouth. “Do you think Niki will win?” you ask your brother, looking up at him as best as you can. “I think so, but maybe James will surprise us!” he predicts, and you nod your head. “I hope James wins,” you whisper under your breath. Your bottom lip falls victim to your teeth, and you gnaw on it out of stress.

You keep your sights on James, and occasionally, you glance at Niki. Perhaps it’s simply just morbid curiosity that’s eating at you because there’s no way you’d just casually look at a man you despise with all your heart. As all the racers go to their designated spots in their cars, excitement fills your stomach. But it’s mixed with fear, as anything can go wrong at these tracks, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. You get lost in your thoughts, thinking about all possibilities.

Who will win? Who will get hurt? Who will get angry? Who will become sad? You ask yourself all these questions that don’t truly matter much to your life, and yet you still try to find an answer inside of you.

Suddenly, the sound of engines revving and then taking off fills your ears. Screams follow them up, and you realize that the race has started. You wait until every single car leaves your view before looking at the scoreboard. You can’t bear to watch them risk their lives while you stand not so comfortably yet safe behind a fence. “Oh my God! James is in the first place!” you squeal like a kid in a candy store, and your brother claps.

Some of the people around you cheer for James, and others for Niki. But you ignore them, and you simply focus on what the orangish-yellow neon lights say. Some names switch spots rapidly, perhaps too quickly for you to keep up with. But you stay trained on the upper two; I. HUN, II. LAU. The former stays on top for most of the race, and the latter switches with him every now and then. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” you nervously mumble, hoping that the Englishman stays on top.

“Seems like your favourite is going to win,” the known lady cleverly smirks, and you give her the side-eye. “Yes, because he’s good at what he does,” you confidently agree, hoping that you won’t have to eat your words in the next few minutes. She chuckles before shaking her head. “No wonder you don’t like Niki Lauda,” she expresses, shaking her head practically in some form of awe. “What are you talking about?” you annoyingly press, already growing tired of whatever conversation she’s trying to make.

“You’re both egotistical and full of yourselves. You do it because that’s who you are, and Niki does it for his own reasons, like pure enjoyment. It’s so obvious for you to dislike him because he’s a reflection of you, and you hate that,” she states, proud of herself for whatever reasons. “That’s dumb, and so are you. He does it because that’s who he is. I do it because I don’t like some people—such as yourself—and because I have plenty of reasons to be prideful. Not egotistical,” you snap, and she raises her hands as if she’s surrendering.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Your mood has turned absolutely irritable, and the bitterness has claimed you entirely. You realize that you haven’t checked the places since before speaking to the lady, and you get excited. Flicking your head up, you expect to have your preferred person’s name at the very top, but instead, you see the name of the one and only Niki Lauda. I. LAU, II. HUN. “No, no, no!” you panic, watching as James stays in second place. None of the names change places at all, and you find yourself to be absolutely crushed. “Yes, yes, yes!” the crowd cheers and your face has fallen in disappointment.

Niki’s name gets announced, and everyone is absolutely elated. Everyone apart from you. Your brother celebrates the win from his high spot, and everybody jumps for joy. You stay silent, and you try your hardest to not swallow your pride. Each driver gets out of their cars slowly, and they congratulate the Austrian with smiles on their faces. You stare at him callously before you notice that James is still grinning. Despite not winning entirely, he never actually lost. So there’s no reason for you to be so dull and gloomy.

He walks off with his posse of men and women, and you realize maybe it’s time for you to head home as well. “So, your favourite won,” you say to your brother, and he giggles. “Yep! And yours lost!” he jokes, and you let out a forced giggle. “Yeah, yeah,” you brush off, making your way through the energetic body of people you strongly dislike.

Niki is engulfed in overly suffocating hugs. Some hands shake him, and some even slap him on the back, not so lightly. He doesn’t know which pairs belong to which bodies, and yet he goes with them all anyway. “You did great, Niki!” one voice praises. “Yeah, great job, Niki!” another adds. He thanks everybody in one sentence, and he pulls away once they start to mingle amongst themselves. The fantastic win of his isn’t what’s on his mind. It’s the thing that’s been etched and burned into his brain for him to think about, even though it should be appreciated now.

No. You’re what’s on Niki’s mind, and he has no intention of letting you leave.

He looks over at the swarm of heads that may have drowned you, and he can’t find you there. Not one trace of you is left behind, and his blood boils. Do you truly hate him to the point where you can’t even stay back for a few more seconds? Niki swears in Austrian under his breath, and he frustratingly walks over to the crowd. Fingers that aren’t yours reach out for him, and he ignores them all. “Have any of you seen that woman with the little boy on her shoulders?” he angrily questions, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

His heart is still clamouring wildly in his chest, practically beating against him to be let out. “Uhm, she just left… She went that way! But I could easily replace her if you want…” a woman flirts, and Niki completely ignores her words after he gets what he wants. He leaves abruptly, and they are still yelling after him. “So eine verdammte Schlampe. Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dir eine Lektion zu erteilen, du hast darum gebettelt, seit ich dich gesehen habe,” he grumbles, walking through the crowded entrance.

Niki emerges with perseverance and even more anger than before. He searches through the sea of racing enthusiasts, and he spots you being bent over. It’s a wildly lewd position for you to be in, and Niki finds himself feeling flushed and displeased at the way you let others leer at you. He should be the only one to see you that way, nobody else. The Austrian wants to storm his way to you, to grab you and drag you somewhere more private so that he can put you in your place, but he knows the current setting isn’t right.

“Uhm, Mr. Lauda? Would you like a drink in honour of your win? It’ll be on us!” a shy waitress offers, appearing out of nowhere. He jumps in fear, but he quickly calms down. “Well…” he ponders, even though he’s not a fan of drinking after a race. In a trice, the lightbulb in his brain goes off. It shines brightly, and a clever idea starts to nag him. “Do you, uh, mind doing me a favour? I’ll even pay you extra,” he quickly prompts, and the waitress smirks. “Sure!” she agrees, carefully balancing the glasses on her tray.

“I need you to take all these glasses—maybe add some more champagne and make sure they’re really full—to that person over there,” he instructs, pointing to where you are. He watches as you wave to your family, who drives off without you. “The one with the brown jacket?” she double checks, and he nods in assurance. “Yeah, that one. Take them to her, and tell her they’re from someone who adores her and her love for champagne quite a bit,” Niki directs while trying to hold in a villain-like laugh.

“Ok! Then I just leave?” she asks, tilting her head innocently. “Yes. And don’t mention my name or anything about me at all,” he adds quickly before placing a hundred-dollar bill on the tray. The waitress slips it into her pocket before walking to where you’re standing idly. Niki watches the innocent worker make her way towards you until he realizes he should hide away before she makes a mistake.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Hi, I have something for you,” a waitress tells you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- What? I never ordered anything, I think you have the wrong person,” you tell her, turning your back and facing elsewhere. “No! I have the right person. They said they’re someone who adores you and your love for champagne!” she gleefully clarifies, and only one person comes to mind. James. You let out an excited, eager gasp. One that can’t be rivalled by any of Niki’s fans from his win.

She hands you the two full glasses, and you can just tell that the golden liquid is of high quality. You get drunk quickly, perhaps a little too easily. But that’s never stopped you from enjoying yourself at all. “Thank you so much! Oh, and I’m sorry for being rude at first,” you softly whisper to her, and she simply waves you away. “No worries,” she reassures, and she walks off before you can finish your first glass.

Tilting your head back, you bring the first flute to your mouth and you down everything it has to offer in just a few gulps. The drink slides down your throat with such ease. It’s brut, and it has a sort of bitter yet sweet taste to it. Sighing, you smack your lips and take whatever is left of the first glass gratefully. You then switch the glasses around with shaky yet skillful hands. “Thank you, James, for being such a lovely guy,” you murmur to yourself, dragging out the last letters of each word.

The alcohol quickly settles inside you, and it starts to distort you as always. Blurry eyes and a hazy mind, you’ve turned into a drunken mess in a matter of a few seconds. You slowly sip on your second and last glass before your temptations grow tired of your sluggishness. You down the entire thing until there’s a small drop at the bottom that just won’t budge. You let out a tiny sound of amazement, and you find yourself wanting to have some more. You lick your lips, trying to search for a slight hint of the sort of melon flavour until it goes away.

“Uhm? Does anyone know where that waitress went?” you ask loudly, and those who hear you shake their heads ‘no.’ “Damn,” you frustratingly mutter, lightly stomping your foot against the concrete. You roll your head backwards, in both a stretch and a habit. Your mind feels heavy, but your bones and muscles are even more burdensome. You bring your skull back to its normal position, and you decide to go look for her. Stumbling clumsily, you walk back into the dreaded arena where everyone is still celebrating Niki Lauda’s victory.

Niki watches you amongst a crowd of fans who are trying to form some sort of discussion with him. They hound him with all kinds of questions, some about the race itself and some about the esteemed racer and his personal life. Like a hunter stalking his prey, his eyes stay trained on you until you disappear behind the red door that leads to rooms that only named people are allowed to go to. “So, what are you going to do now, Mr. Lauda? How are you going to celebrate?” one of them asks, with a sort of sultry tone to their voice that he fails to notice.

“I have plans with a friend of mine for tonight,” he briefly states before pushing through them and following you into the stadium. “Can I join?” another asks, and he simply ignores them as they call after Niki with even more curiosity. It’s not hard to spot someone in bright red overalls suddenly walking into somewhere he shouldn’t be, but it’s easy to pay no mind to him because he’s a champion and most people who see him aren’t.

“Where, where, where are you, kleine Maus?” he hauntingly calls out, and his voice echoes back. Niki can hear the sound of your shoes clicking against the ground, and he decides to follow it. He tries his hardest to calm his heart down, but it’s hard to both hold your breath and make sure you’re not nearing cardiac arrest. The racer quickens the paces of his feet, practically jogging towards you as you decide to turn around and forget about the champagne.

Your jacket slips off your shoulders as you whip your body around, and suddenly, you’re pushed against a wall. The brick is painted over with a sort of cream colour. You begin to panic as strong hands keep you from fighting your attacker. “Du bellst wohl nicht nur, kleine Maus,” he notes out loud, and you don’t understand a word of what he’s saying. The voice is familiar, though, except for the fact it’s a few octaves deeper than you last heard.

“Niki?” you question, halting your flailing fists and restless legs. “Yes, kleine Maus?” the man questions and your jaw drops in shock. “What the fuck?! Are you insane? Get off of me!” you scream loudly, and his hopes of getting you still begin to die like a flower in the wintertime. Niki grabs ahold of your wrists in his dominant hand, and he swiftly turns you around and stomps on your ankles. “Help!” you cry out, but his other hand presses your face against the wall.

“Shut up, shut the fuck up,” he orders in your ear, pushing your white ribbon out of your face. You listen to him, but you disobey his commands at the same time. Writhing around, you try to escape the claws that squeeze you tightly, and you fail miserably. “Cute. Now stop fighting me, or else I’ll hurt you so badly you wouldn’t be able to go to anyone for help,” he threatens, and you gulp thickly in fear. Your saliva tastes of alcohol still, and you regret ever coming to the race.

“Good girl. See? That wasn’t so hard. All you need to do is listen to me,” Niki instructs, talking down to you like you’re some child who doesn’t know any better. “Why?” you choke out through gritted teeth. Your cheekbones rub against the brick, and the pain is gruesome. “Because I need to put you in your place. Do you seriously think you can just mouth off to me like that? To disrespect me like that? To prefer that pathetic racer over me?” he asks, and you let out a whimper. Each of his words sinks into you like needles filled with anesthesia.

They numb your mind until you realize what’s really happening, but by then, it’s too late.

“Well, obviously, I prefer James over you! Look at you, you’re rude, and you’re a horrible, shitty person. Now get off of me!” you lash out, even though your body doesn’t move. Niki simply laughs like a maniac, and you find yourself wanting to take back your words. “Maybe I’m so rude because I like you. Like how little boys tease little girls when they have crushes. You do know what a crush is, right? Just making sure since you’re so cold-hearted. Bet you don’t know anything other than hatred,” he spits, and you’re pretty offended.

“I know what you’re talking about! I’ve had feelings for people, okay?” you bite back, and Niki becomes curious. “Really? Let me guess. James Hunt? Some old boyfriend of yours? A man at a party who cleaned you up because you don’t know how to take care of yourself?” the Austrian questions, and you don’t realize who he’s talking about until you look at his hands. They’re the same as those gracious ones, except they’re more rough and lack gentleness. “That was you?” you ask, and you’ve lost all fight in your body at the realization.

“Well, of course, kleine Maus. Someone had to watch your back, and that someone is me! Du bist nicht so klug, wie du dich selbst darstellst, ganz ehrlich. But that’s okay, it’ll be okay. It’ll be just alright now that I’m here to put you in your place,” he reassures you, and you don’t even have the energy to ask him what he means. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve learnt my lesson now, can you let me go? I won’t tell anyone, Sir, I promise!” you plea and your words start to blur into one another.

“I don’t think you’re sorry, kleine Maus. I need to do what’s necessary because I’m fucking tired of you and your bullshit,” Niki snaps, and you whimper from the harsh tone of his words. His change in behaviour gives you whiplash, and you realize that there’s no way out of whatever he has planned for you. “So careless, so mean, so ignorant… So clumsy. I guess you aren’t as independent or as strong as you claim to be,” he whispers, and he causes tears to sting your almost empty eyes. They hurt, and they carry such maliciousness to them that you can’t help but be terrified of Niki.

A hand comes up to the waist of your jeans. They flare out at the bottom, and well, they look pretty damn good on you. But maybe a little too good because they make Niki think wild thoughts. He expertly takes the buttons out of their holes, and he unzips your rusted zipper. “P- Please, Niki,” you beg one last time, but Niki ignores you. He pulls down your pants against your protests, and he lets them get tangled with your tired feet. Your bare ass is exposed to the cool air of the arena, and goosebumps begin to rise on your skin.

“Such a lovely ass, kleine Maus. Maybe I should fuck it instead of doing what I had planned. Would you like that?” Niki politely asks, and your eyes nearly fall out of your skull. “N- No, thank you, Niki,” you shakily reject, and he nods. “You see, unlike you, I’m not so mean. So I’ll spare you, but only this once,” he cheerfully tells you, acting as if you’re supposed to start jumping up and down at his words. The closest thing to gratitude he’ll ever get from you is silence.

Niki still has a tight grip on your hands, and with your legs now immobilized from the mess by your feet, you can’t do much to save yourself. He wraps his arm around your waist, and he grabs at the crotch of your panties with no care at all. The cotton bunches up, and his fingers graze lightly against your folds. You try to ignore his touch, but he does the opposite and forces you to focus on it. He’s frozen, and you’re waiting for his next malevolent move. You can hear his heavy breathing, and he angles his digits upwards so he can touch you even more.

You press a fist against the wall, and you try to brace yourself as best as you can. Unexpectedly, a fierce pain strikes you in your hips, and it hurts more than you can describe. His hand has left you, and you can feel the air breeze against your pussy. Your panties are on the floor, ripped into a shred of fabric that no longer has any good use other than reminding you of how you could’ve avoided this entire situation. “I’ll get you better ones, don’t worry,” he reassures you in a humorous manner, and you squeeze your eyes shut in annoyance.

Instead of having your hips jut out for easy access, he pushes your torso against the wall until there’s a pressure inside your stomach. Instead of pain, it’s a sort of tingling sensation that makes your eyes bulge out in shock. “Uhm...” you hesitate, and his ears perk up. “What is it?” he frustratingly asks you, and his harsh tone snivelling. “N- Nevermind,” you mumble, and you just try to take deep breaths. “Are you ever going to shut up?” Niki questions as his other hand skillfully unzips his red overalls.

He’s wearing a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the hot weather and occasional coolness. You keep quiet, not sure if you should answer him or not. Niki grumbles in another language that you don’t understand, and you realize that no matter what you do, you’ll always make him angry. Even your begging doesn’t bring you any fruits of labour. Only disappointment.

His shorts join the pile of clothing on the ground, many colours clashing that leave his eyes to be sore. Sunset pink panties, pale blue jeans, vibrant red overalls, and black shorts. It’s a fashionista’s worst nightmare. His hard cock is left in his boxers, and he’s just too impatient to fully undress. He throbs out of want and need, with a swollen tip that leaks with pre-cum. “I know this isn’t so… What’s the word you people use? ...Ah, romantic! I know this isn’t so romantic, but it’s not supposed to be. I’m the only one who’s supposed to enjoy this, not you. So I don’t care if you want to fake a smile or anything like that, all you need to do is not say anything,” he explains, and you nod your head.

“O- Okay, Niki,” you assure, and he lets out a groan that is followed by his tongue clicking against his pearly teeth. “Dumb whore,” he spits, and his hand wraps around your throat. You’re inebriated beyond belief, and you don’t realize he can crush your windpipe in a split second until he whispers in your ear. “Can’t do one thing right, can you?” he retorts. The grip he has on your wrists suddenly loosens up, but you’re too sluggish to fight him. And even if you try, you’ll end up a pathetic loser with even less honour than before.

The fat tip of his large cock presses against your mildly slick pussy. “You’re already wet for me, kleine Maus! Oh, such a whore. You say you don’t want this, yet your little cunt is telling me otherwise. Maybe you should use it to think instead of your empty brain. You’d end up in better places if you did so,” he advises, and you try to tune him out. But he’s like an alarm that just won’t stop until you do something, and yet, you’re helpless. “Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dich zu meiner Hure zu machen. Wie viel verlangen Sie? Einen Dollar? So oder so, du wirst von mir gefickt werden,” Niki snickers, and you have a feeling his words lack kindness.

But who the hell are you to worry about kindness?

Niki pushes his hips forward as his cock slowly sheathes itself inside of your tight pussy. The way you hug him makes him moan immediately, and he wonders if he’s the first you’ve ever had. “Jesus Fucking Christ, you’re so right, kleine Maus,” he groans, slowly bottoming out inside of you. You’re biting down on your wobbly bottom lip, trying your hardest to keep quiet and not let out any cries. The pain is searing. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever felt, and it ingrains itself into your mind until it’s all but an illusion. You’re practically about to be torn in half from his cock, and you’re at an impasse.

The racer curses as his balls rest against your ass, heavy and swollen. He’s deep inside you, filling you up until you’re bursting and you don’t know what to focus on; the pressure in your stomach that just seems to grow with each passing second, or the pain that leisurely turns into pleasure you’ll be addicted to? Everything is so much all at once. “Feel that, kleine Maus? Do you feel how deep inside you I am? Good, because you’ll have to get used to it,” he tells you, and you writhe around.

“So desperate already…” he whispers, watching as you can’t stand still at all. Niki’s hand leaves the base of his cock, as he thrusts his hips forward to elicit a reaction from you. He holds onto you tightly, and your body jerks from his movement. Your swollen stomach is pushed further against the wall, much to your dismay. You let out a gasp, and you try to close your legs as much as Niki will let you. He chuckles before he drags his cock backwards. His tip is the only thing inside you, and he suddenly begins to pump into you roughly. “Oh my God,” you whimper quietly, and your words are drowned out by the sound of skin against skin.

He thrusts up into you at a quick pace, one that your fingers or past lovers could never rival. It seems as though he’s fast when it comes to almost anything. “Die beste Muschi, die ich je hatte,” Niki whispers. Your pussy slickens up as he fucks you, coating him with your sticky wetness. The sight is something to behold, and his cock slips in and out of you with each thrust. “Make some pretty noises, kleine Maus. I want to hear how much of a slut you are for my cock,” he demands, and a loud moan moves past your lips without warning. It’s lewd and pornographic, yet it’s not as debauched as the sounds your wet pussy makes.

“Yeah, that’s more like it, hure,” Niki praises, and you mewl once his cock begins to touch that sweet spot of yours. It makes you go dizzy and hazy, and it also makes your legs weak. You involuntarily stop clenching your thighs together. Each thrust brings you against the wall, and you feel like you’re about to explode. Your pussy clenches down on Niki’s cock tightly, and his motions stutter. “Are you going to come already, my little slut?” he questions, slowing down his thrusts just to see you get frustrated. But the reaction you have is quite the opposite of what he wants, and he’s confused.

You let out a shaky breath that is filled with relief. You try to cross your legs together and push your ass backwards so that you’re far from the wall, even if it means that you’re closer to Niki. Your efforts don’t do much, and you want to wail in defeat. Niki observes you carefully before he shoves you back against the wall. You cry out before whispering a simple ‘please’ to him. He doesn’t realize what you’re talking about until he watches you place one of your hands on your stomach. You splay your fingers out delicately, and Niki chuckles.

The hold he has on your hips goes away, and he reaches for your hand. “Shh, it’s okay,” he reassures, and you furrow your eyebrows in both confusion and surprise. Niki pulls his cock out of you until you’re an empty, gaping mess. Suddenly, he presses down on your bladder until warmth trickles down your legs, soaking the fabric at your feet. A few tears leak from your eyes, and Niki watches as you burn up with embarrassment and shame. The pain and pressure in your abdomen go away as you finally alleviate yourself.

“Dreckig, dreckig, kleine Maus,” he degrades, and you don’t have it in you to be offended. The streams of liquid eventually come to an end, and you’re so ashamed. You press your face against the wall and wait for Niki’s next word. But he doesn’t say anything at all. Zip, zilch, nada. Instead, he pulls his hand away from your stomach and uses it to silently guide his cock back to your drooling, aching hole. “Couldn’t help yourself, I know. It’s okay, it’s not entirely your fault, liebling,” Niki tells you, even though he’s more patronizing than comforting.

“Es ist nicht deine Schuld, dass du nicht weißt, wie man etwas richtig macht. Keine Manieren, keine Höflichkeiten... Ich verstehe, dass du so bist, aber ich bin hier, um dich zu ändern. Ich bin hier, um dir beizubringen, dass du unter mir stehst und dass du nichts anderes tun solltest, als meine Hure zu sein und mich zu verehren,” he continues, and you’ve decided to give up entirely. You forehead rests on the white brick, and Niki begins to fuck you roughly once again.

He pounds against your sweet spot relentlessly, not one error in his rhythmic thrusts. “Poor little thing acts all tough until it comes down to it… And now look at you, you’re a complete mess with my cock stuffed inside this perfect pussy,” Niki grunts, leaning his body forward. His chest is right up against your back, and his chin rests on your sweaty shoulder. Your white ribbon is a tangled mess, the two ends of it twisting together and falling in your face. The silk material is no longer cooling, and the styling purpose of it has lost its touch.

The plunges of his cock are more deep than quick, and each shove of his hips sends you spiralling in pleasure. “F- Fuck,” you moan, seeing stars in your vision as your legs twitch from overwhelming gratification. “Yeah, you like that? You like the way my cock makes your pussy feel, kleine Maus?” he questions, and he further pushes his head down until his mentum digs into your skin. You wail loudly out of pain before nodding your head desperately. Niki squeezes the sides of your neck even more, but he also pushes down on your windpipe until you’re gasping for air.

You wheeze resoundingly, and the sound of you suffering for breath sends even more blood down to Niki’s pulsating cock. “Say it, tell me how much you love my cock and how much of a slut you are for me,” he demands, and you grasp at whatever’s left in your vocabulary. “I- I love your cock, Niki. I’m such a slut for you and your cock. You make me feel so good. I love your cock so much,” you pathetically mewl, and you can feel a form of tightening building up in you. Your lower abdomen burns up with searing flames, ones that trail all the way down to where you’re both connected.

You get wetter and wetter, more loud and desirous as your climax builds up. It’s like a staggering tower that reaches up to the sky and past the clouds; it has an end, but it keeps growing. “Are you going to come, kleine Maus? Are you going to come around my fat cock? I know you are. C’mon, do it,” Niki urges, and you moan his name loudly. “Do it, come on my cock right fucking now, or else I’ll make this worse for you,” he demands, and your back arches violently. You let out a gasp as your jaw goes slack. Red fills your vision, and you’re clamping down on his cock.

You moan his name loudly, and your juices coat his already sticky cock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mewl, digging your nails into your skin as you struggle to keep quiet like he ordered you to do. Your pussy spasms wildly, and your clit throbs, desperate for a few fingers to rub it. Your legs shake just a little bit, and you find yourself meeting Niki at his every thrust, desperate to keep going. Your ass moves backwards, and his hips move forwards, and the Austrian fucks you through your orgasm. Your nerves have sparks flying from them, and every part of you is sensitive.

“You’re so pretty when you come, kleine Maus. You look just like a desperate whore,” Niki grunts, and he can feel himself inching closer to his own climax. It’s like the light at the end of a tunnel or the chequered flag that usually waits for him at the race track before he’s announced to be the winner. “I’m gonna come inside you, kleine Maus, even if you don’t want me to. I’m going to fill you up with my seed and make you all nice and round. That way, you’ll know who you belong to, and you won’t be whoring around for the James Hunt you love so much,” he whispers in your ear, and you rapidly shake your head.

No, no, no, no.

“Yes, yes, yes, kleine Maus, you’re going to take my seed because I said so. Now stop fighting me,” he moans in your ear, and his thrusts grow sloppy and lazy. Niki shallowly fucks into you, and his balls begin to tighten up. His chest rises and falls, and he can feel his high beginning to climb up to the sky. Up, up, up, and away. Niki moans out the little pet name he’s applied to you, and he entirely shoves his cock inside you until he can’t move anymore. Growling, he comes inside you without a care in the world.

The raging, red tip of his fat cock is so deep. White ropes of his seed shoot into your womb, filling you up until you’re an upset, messy cumdump. “This is all you’re good for, kleine Maus,” Niki whispers in your ear, reminding you of your so-called place that he believes you belong in. His cum drips down your inner walls and leaks past his cock, and your fluids mix with each other. Niki’s cock twitches inside of you, but he remains as hard as a rock.

“Can’t wait to see you with my baby, kleine Maus. And I can’t wait to see James’s face when he sees you with me. Er wird so schockiert sein, dass sein Gesichtsausdruck unbezahlbar sein wird,” Niki laughs wickedly, and you can’t imagine you’ll ever meet anyone as cruel or as twisted as he is. “Can you get off of me now? I want to go home, and I want to stay as far away from you as I can,” you snap in both annoyance and exhaustion. “Nu-uh,” he tuts in a disciplinary manner. “You’re not going anywhere, kleine Maus,” Niki tells you. He tilts his head up until his lips touch the skin of your ear.

“I still have to celebrate my win with you, and I’ll make sure to push you to the limit, kleine Maus.”

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒/𝐎

Requested by: @seacottons

❄𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong smiled proudly at his work of art. He carefully picked up the gingerbread house and held it up.

"Look look baby!" He exclaimed, bouncing lightly on his feet as he showed you it.

"Oh my God! It looks amazing!"

The smile on your face that was happy for Hongjoong soon turned to a pout though as you stared down at your own creation. Hongjoong peeked over and noticed why you were sad. Your gingerbread house was falling apart, barely standing up, and the frosting was smeared all over the place, including your face and hair.

"Awww sweetheart come on." Hongjoong cooed as he began to wipe some of the frosting off your face.

"I suck and I hate Christmas." You huffed softly, your arms crossing over your chest.

"Stop you don't mean that." He said cupping your cheeks.

"Tell you what? How about we go back to the store and I buy you that spongebob gingerbread house you wanted and build it for you?"

Your eyes lit up at his comment.

"Really?!" You squealed.

Hongjoong kissed your frosted nose, licking some of it off and then winked at your blushing figure.

"Come on baby. We want to get there before it closes."

❄𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

"Baby baby look!"

You rolled your eyes as your boyfriend once again got sidetracked from your task and began pulling you to see some of the items on display.

"Seonghwa! We're supposed to be shopping for gifts for the boys." You reminded him.

"I know, I know...but look how cute these are!"

Seonghwa couldn't help himself as he picked up some of the baby mittens and hats. He giggled as he held them out to you.

"Seonghwa? Who are those supposed to fit? Yunho?" You rolled your eyes.

"No silly! But I was thinking....you know.."

Seonghwa wiggled his eyes suggestively at you. When you caught onto his meaning, you smacked his arm and started walking away.

"You're....ugh!

Seonghwa quickly put the stuff down and walked behind you.

"Why are you against this?! I thought you wanted to give me what I wanted for Christmas and I want a positive pregnancy test!".

He cried out then quickly turned cause something caught his eye.

"Look this is perfect for Mingi!"

You sighed as you realized it was gonna be a long day.

❄𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

You and Yunho were currently putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree. You felt so proud at the color combination you picked out. You tilted your head when you heard a cluttering sound.

"Oops?" Yunho smiled shyly as he began to pick up some of the glass balls that he had accidentally dropped on the floor.

"Yuyu careful. I don't want you cutting yourself." You said as you helped him pick them up.

"I'll be fine love. They didn't even shatter." He assured you.

After you guys picked up the ornaments and finished putting them up, you both began clapping and jumping up and down.

"It's almost finished."

You picked up the last item, a shiny gold star to put on the top of the tree. You happily walked over to the tree.

"Baby? Need me to do it?" Yunho offered.

"I can do it!"

You reached up but unfortunately couldn't reach all the way to the top. You stood on your tippy toes, but still couldn't place the star on the top. Defeated, you turned with a pout to Yunho. He merely chuckled as he took the star away from you.

"Don't worry love. It's what I'm here for."

He kissed your cheek before proceeding to lift you up on his arm.

"Come on. Let's finish decorating the tree together."

❄𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

"Yeosang. Can you please take out the cookies from the oven?" You asked as you assembled the frosting and the piping bags.

Making sure to put on oven mittens, Yeosang carefully took out the sugar cookies from the oven and placed the tray on the counter, fanning them out gently.

"Perfect! Now we can start decorating them!" You handed a bag to Yeosang.

Yeosang and you quietly began decorating the cookies, adding different figures and cute designs on them. You felt Yeosang tapping eagerly on your shoulder so you stopped what you were doing to see what he had done.

"Hehet." He chuckled as he showered you a blue cookie decorated with a white Hehetmon.

That wasn't the end, he then held up a cookie that resembled an angry bird.

"It's Seonghwa Hyung!"

You bursted out laughing at how cute your boyfriend was. You were so caught up in your task of decorating the cookies, you almost..... almost didnt notice the hands that swindled one of the cookies.

"Yeosang did you just ate one of the cookies?" You placed your hands on your hips.

Yeosang turned to you with a shocked look on his face.

"Nnno..." He muffled a lie, mouth full of the pastry he stole.

You shook your head and tried to hit him with the nearby whisk, but he quickly evaded you.

"You know I have a sweet tooth!"

❄𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San made sure not to hurt himself as he hammered the nails onto the wall. It wasn't easy considering a certain furry feline decided it was a good time to start rubbing her body on his leg.

"Byeol, babygirl. As soon as I'm finished I'll give you cuddles ok?" He smiled down at the cat.

The cat however glared at him. Hissing softly, she left to join you on the couch, where you were busy trying to finish filling the stockings with goodies and candies. Byeol began meowing at you, sprawling her body across your lap.

"Byeol, sweetheart. Soon ok?" You said as you gently put her down, which she did not appreciate.

Soon both you and San were finished.

"Ok. Let's hang them up now."

You two slowly placed two stockings first, testing the waters to make sure they wouldn't fall off or rip. You both stepped back and let it stay for a few seconds before deciding it was ok.

"We did it!" San clapped as he turned back to you and gave you a high five and then pulled you in for a hug.

"All right. Let's finish putting the others-"

You couldn't finish your sentence when you two turned around and saw that the rest of the stockings had been ransacked through, some of them even with a couple of tears. You guys then witnessed a very angry cat perch itself on the top of the couch, daring you to say something.

"Ah come on Byeol! We worked really hard on them!" San complained but was met by a low hiss.

You giggled. "Come on. Let's just drink some hot chocolate and give snuggles to our child before she decides to tear up the Christmas tree."

❄𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Mingi hopped from one side of the stove to another, peering down at your task of slowly stirring the boiling pot in front of you. He turned his face, bringing it really close to yours.

"Is it ready yet?"

You sighed as he asked for the 6th time in less than 2 minutes.

"Mingi, I told you the hot chocolate will be ready soon." You repeated to him.

He whined and shook his shoulders slightly. Rolling your eyes, you handed him the spoon.

"Stir this for a bit. I'm gonna run down to the bathroom for a while."

Taking off your apron, you made a quick stop at the restroom. As soon as you came out, you head Mingi yelp from the kitchen. Quickly pulling out the first aid kit, you ran back to see what happened. Mingi's bottom lip quivered as he held out his hand.

"I accidentally burnt myself." He whimpered softly.

You tried to be as careful as possible while you rubbed ointment on the red patch on his skin and finished bandaging it up.

"There. All better?" You asked.

Mingi smiled shyly. "Can you kiss it to make the boo boo feel better?"

You giggled and tenderly kissed his hand. "You know you're such a dork..."

Leaning up, you pecked his lips.

"But you're my dork."

❄𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

"Wooyoung. Press start now." You urged him.

"No! I'm not starting the movie until the popcorn is ready." He wouldn't budge.

"You won't miss much of it." You shook his arm.

"I am not starting a movie until all the required snacks are in place."

Right at that moment, the microwave beeped and Wooyoung quickly sped over to retrieve the popcorn. As soon as he set it down, he jumped back inside the pillow and blanket fort you two created, effectively tackling you down, making you groan and complain when he began adjusting around.

"Cuddle me! I wanna be the little spoon." He grabbed your arms and wrapped them around him.

You rolled your eyes but nonetheless cuddled up to Wooyoung as you started your Christmas movie marathon. Wooyoung would occasionally make you feed him popcorn or chocolate, or he'd end up throwing some at your face when you thought he'd feed you as well. He'd laugh every time you smacked his hand.

"Look baby! You're on tv!" He pointed to the screen when the Grinch came up.

"You're so annoying!" You exclaimed as you got up and let go of him.

Wooyoung wasn't having it though. He quickly pulled you back down and wrapped his legs around you, making you the little spoon this time.

"Come on baby. You know I'm kidding. I love you so much." He confessed as he attacked your cheek with kisses.

❄𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho carefully patted some more snow onto the snowman you were currently building. You had gone inside to get a hat and scarf to wrap around it. When you came back out and notices how focused he was, you decided it'd be fun to mess with him. Picking up some snow, you made it into a tiny ball before throwing it at the back of his head.

"Hey!"

Jongho screeched as he turned around, but was met with another snowball to the face that you threw at him. You giggled at him as he stared at you unamused. He bent down and picked up a large handful of snow and began walking towards you. You let out a squeal and began running as fast as you could, trying to escape your boyfriend's revenge.

"Get back here Y/N!" He shouted from behind, a smile plastered on his face.

Jongho ended up discarding the snowball and instead tackled you down onto the snow before proceeding to roll you guys around on it. He ended up pining you down and both of you were giggling like crazy.

"Oh..." You stopped laughing and looked at the tree above you.

Jongho followed your gaze to see a mistletoe hanging by one of the branches right above you guys. He looked back at you and smiled softly.

"I mean.....it is tradition." He mused as he bent down to tenderly kiss your lips.

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

[gloves94]

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 2

Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Abuse!

Raised as an orphan, Nel Saintday, endured years of torture from the Slytherin House. The Dark Lord only allowed her existence for her to serve a very specific vile purpose for him. Her birthright dictates for her to choose a side in the Wizarding War… But what would happen if she dares defy the Dark Lord and his wishes? And what happens when she falls for her tormentor? Will Nel fulfill her life’s purpose? And what side will her tormentor, Draco Malfoy, choose? The light that calls to him or the darkness…

CHAPTER MASTERLIST MY MASTERLIST

1 9 9 1

"Oi! You said you'd give me five quid for it!" A young girl accused with a stern expression at an older boy. "A quid per pound."

This had not been a fair deal.

The boy wore a smug expression on his fox like face. On one hand he weighted a fat paper bag filled with Dairy Milk chocolate bars and Maltesers amongst other chocolatey goods. The rest of his squad, all just as tall and hulking  snickered as they greedily ate the candy.

"I said five quid per pound of quality candy, this is all rubbish. Besides, I hate chocolate! You get squat Dots." He laughed loudly before chewing on a mouthful of chocolate bars.

"But you're still eating it!" She pointed upset.

The group laughed cruelly.

"You better give me my money Nico!" She threatened both fists clenched at her side, eyebrows furrowed into a scowl.

"Or what?" He huffed towering over the eleven-year-old poking her chest. "What are you going to do about it?" He challenged pushing her. "Go and cry to Ms. Wool about it?" He pushed her to the ground, and she fell back to the pavement on her behind glaring at the bullies. She should've really thought this out more thoroughly.

"Just you wait-" She growled out rolling up her sleeves, looking as menacing as she could.

It was then that a startled look crossed Nico's face. He turned white. "Let's get out of here!" His friend slapped the other on the chest and looking terrified as the three scrambled away quickly even dropping the bag of candy on the alley way.

"Ha!" She bounced to her feet triumphantly.

Yeah! That'll show them!

It was then that she felt a strong grip seize her shoulder.

Uh-Oh

Her legs moved but she felt an object come down hard on her shoulder. She spat a curse and looked over her shoulder to see Mr. Cowell, the owner of the General Store she had just stolen candy from, and the bitter old man did not look pleased. His black cane buried on her arm.

"Oh! You're going nowhere this time you scantly thief!" He pulled her to him and grabbed her shoulder with his hand.

Head sunken low, he walked her back to where she came from. All the way grumbling and muttering insults and curses.

"Should've known you were up to no good, same as always," he muttered more to himself before ringing the doorbell of the old building.

Ms. Wool opened the door. A plump woman with a pig's face that always seemed to be wearing the dreaded color pink. A cloud of gagging  perfume usually wafted around the middle-aged woman. Her face immediately morphed into a deep scowl that made her fat bottom lip stick out.

"Can't let you out of my sight, can I?" She glowered at the girl.

"Caught her with her sticky fingers looting my candy jars this time," the upset man pushed her forward making her stumble towards the entrance of the orphanage.

"Oh Phil," Ms. Wool shook her head slightly before digging into a coin purse. "What's the damage this time?"

"'S just candy Cordelia," The old man said gruffly leaning on his cane dismissing her offer. "'Ust make sure this one 'ere stays out of my store!" He pointed his cane at the girl's chest making her inch back.

Ms. Wool's sharp hands sank into her shoulders as she apologized to the store owner and brought the girl inside of the orphanage. Nel didn't feel her stomach sink until the door closed.

"Can't let you out of my sight, can I? You little thieving tyke!" Ms. Wood's polished hand reached for the girl's ear and she angrily pulled on it as she dragged her away into her hellish office. Other children that lived in the home laughed and pointed as they saw the much familiar scene unfold before them. Ms. Wool's office was a damp place, colored in warm pastel shades and drying flowers with floors and ceilings from the 1910's the time when Wool's Orphanage had originally been built.

"I'm not scared of you!" She declared stupidly. "Oh, you should be! You stupid girl!" Wool scolded. "I've had it up to here with you!" She crossed an arm over her forehead. "I've tried being nice, I've tried being patient. Seems like this is the only way you'll understand." She said opening a door next to her office and tossing her in. "In the Chokey you go!"

The door slammed on her nose.

The Chokey was a narrow cupboard that was filled with broken glass sticking out of the walls with nails on the door. It was a place of utter terror that the mere threat of it was enough to make children tremble in fright and fall straight into line. The cupboard was so narrow you couldn't sit or squat in it without being hurt. Sometimes kids were kept here for hours. Nel presently had the record for the longest lock in having been kept in for a whole day. Something she was awfully proud of and she felt gave her some pomp and superiority over the other children in the home.

"Let me out of here you wretched witch!" She shouted at the door bending her hand on a glass free spot on the door.

"You will stay in there until you finally learn your lesson! Even if its tomorrow!"

She heard a door slam signaling that Wool had exited her office.

Nel stood in the dark room. Eyes peeled; angry fists clenched at the sides. All she had wanted to do was to make some money to buy some art supplies for her own. After all she was an orphan, not possessing a single penny to her name. It wasn't fair. No matter how hard she tried to hold on to any material possession - every time she got something, anything nice be it a candy bar, socks or a sweater, the gift was usually always picked away by the older, stronger kids in the home. Sometimes she wondered what her life would've been like if she hadn't been dumped in this doldrum.

Nel stayed locked up for hours. Her bored eyes attempted to find shapes in the darkness through a strained vision. Scratching a nail against the door's paint she attempted to carve her name into it as she carefully calculated and planned her next scheme to make money. Perhaps she could scam some local kids into buying pet rocks or swindle them into some equally ridiculous scam. She made a mental note to next time make Nico and his goons pay her before engaging in business with him.

That was until the door opened. The light momentarily blinded her.

"There you are!" A younger voice spoke and the eleven-year-old was brought into a warm embrace. "Are you okay? If you know that Nico Shaffer and his gang are going to do you dirty why do you keep hanging out with them?" Lucy, Nel's absolutely favorite person in the world, said holding on to her arms with care.

Lucy was only a couple of years older than Nel. The young girl couldn't remember a time in which anybody else that had ever cared for her. Certainly not Ms. Wool. The girl was more of an older sister than just a fellow housemate.

"I have to show 'em who's the boss around here," Nel said with a huff before sticking her hand into her pocket and handing her friend some candy. "I got you some Whoopers," she grinned handing over her friend the candy.

"Sometimes I think you enjoy setting off Ms. Wool," Lucy shook her head and regardless took the candy and pocketed with a smile.

"Only sometimes," the girl smiled cheekily.

The two girls made out of the office quickly hand in hand.

"Stealing is wrong Nel. Don't do it again." the older one scolded to deaf ears that would most definitely do it again. "What did you even want that money for?"

"I wanted to buy some paint. You know? So that I could paint my walls."

"Your walls or Wool's walls?" the Lucy rolled her eyes knowing that the young girl would probably paint a splash or horrendous colors in the cafeteria which would mortify matron. "You know Ms. Wool would most definitely not allow that."

The younger one smirked slightly having been caught in her mischievous plan to bring some life into the dull building. "We practically live in a jail Luce, it's not fair. Maybe just- maybe some color would make everybody's day better? It was for the greater good!"

"Hey Nel! Heard you stole some candy from old man Cowell!" A younger boy called from the corridor. Enjoying the attention, the girl turned and threw a candy at him "You bet!"

"Stop it! You're going to get in more trouble," Lucy slapped her hand as they  reached the small room were the young girl was kept to herself. Nel didn't care. That boy owed her now. She'd think of what favor she'd bug him with later. Maybe she'd ask him for his bread if she was ever locked up without dinner again.

Her room had once been the laundry room and broom and storage, but a bed had been added for the girl to sleep in. She slept there alone, mainly for the safety of others… You see, weirdthings tended to happen around the girl -

"Ms. Wool!" A loud sing song voice called. "Nel still has some candy and is keeping it to herself!" A most pesky snitch alarmed loudly.

Both girls turned to glare at Aisha by far Wool's favorite and a total kiss ass. Always wearing pink in an attempt to please their matron.

"Shut your mouth Aisha or I'll shut it for you!" The other shouted angrily from across the corridor.

It was then that Wool came stomping by from around the corner.

"SAINTDAY!" She bellowed her surname angrily. Her eyes scanned the corridor for the young girl before focusing on her. "Ah, there you are!" Her eyes turned into slits.

Aisha smirked looking pleased with herself.

Nel shrunk a little, hiding behind Lucy. She was bracing herself for the scold that would come from exiting the chokey when she saw that a tall man with a long white beard and peculiar lavender robes was trailing behind the wide matron.

Ms. Wool sank her hand into Nel's lower arm and dragged the girl inside of the small room, the man tailing behind entered as well. Lucy was locked out; she hung her shoulders lingering around ready to press her ear against the door. What a most peculiar looking man…  She thought to herself.

Wool knowingly stuck her head out before Lucy pressed her ear against the door and barked at her to get lost which sent the fourteen-year-old skulking away.

Back inside Wool turned her attention to the brunette. "What have you done now you wicked child?" She glared hands on hips demanding an answer.

"I did nothing, swear!" She said innocently raising up her hands looking at the older man with the half-moon glasses with an innocent expression.

Albus Dumbledore looked at the expression on the child's face that was sitting in the small bed. Despite the pout on her face there was an air of mischief that made him aware that he should know better when trusting her. It had been decades since the last time he had been to Wool's Orphanage. The last time had been under similar circumstances instead visiting a student with the last name Riddle.

"You will apologize to the man and tell me what you did!" Wool knelt and pinched the tender part of the girl's arm making her painfully hiss at the sensation.

"That is enough Ms. Wool," Dumbledore said sternly glaring at the Muggle woman.

"I am here on official school business," the man with the twinkling eyes said stroking his beard. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, I am the Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardly and I have come to personally deliver Ms. Saintday her letter of acceptance."

"School of wizzah which what?" Wool cocked her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes in mistrust.

She took the letter from the man eyeing the parchment sealed with an official wax stamp with wary eyes. Nel never received any mail. As far as she knew there was nobody outside of the orphanage that would write to her.

Miss E. Saintday, Laundry Room, Wool's Orphanage, London.

Blinking twice she ripped the envelope open. Curiously reading the contents of the green letter head.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY Underneath was the Headmasters name. Followed by an acceptance, instructions for admission and a list of texts and materials that would be required by the school. The letter was signed by the Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, in a curvy signature.

Nel hadn't even bothered to listen to what Wool was bickering about with the Headmaster.

"Is this real?" She asked the man with her eyes growing wide. "This is not a joke is it?"

"As real as you and I Ms. Saintday," The man smiled down at her kindly.

The man who had introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore explained that there was another world which was unknown to, to regular or non-magic people that were called Muggles and the Nel was a witch. A powerful being capable of magical powers. He explained this was all extremely secretive and that nobody must or should know. He explained that Hogwarts was a most prestigious school and the Wizarding School of the UK were most witches and wizards attended for seven years to earn their education.

"You don't want this one I'm telling you!" Wool suddenly laughed loudly. "She's brought me nothing but trouble since the day she was left in my doorstep!" Nel ignored her with a glare. "Set my curtains on fire, once somehow made a student magically appear on the roof, made my teapots sing! Summoned snakes out of cookie jars! Lightbulbs explode around her! All sorts of devilish things! I know she bullies the other kids. I don't know how she does it, I just haven't caught her yet. And school-" She laughed woefully. "Not a single knot or bolt in this one's empty head."  She knocked on the back of her head, which made the girl rub the sore spot. She turned to look at the Headmaster with fearful eyes. Would he withdraw his invitation now that he knew this?

"I believe I myself once set fire to my dorm's curtains. An atrocious shade of red. Accidentally of course," he smiled once again which brought some comfort to the orphan.

"Forget about it!" Wool exclaimed getting ready to exit the room. "I'm not going to fork a single penny over so that this one can go to a fancy boarding school to learn how to pull rabbits out of a hat!"

"I assure you that money will not be a problem Ms. Wool. There is a special fund set aside to assist students with financial needs. Of course, Ms. Saintday will have to maintain an outstanding average to maintain this scholarship."

"Ha! That's a lost cause," Wool huffed humorlessly.

She was ignored. The older Wizard stood up and met the girls' dark brown eyes. Eyes that to him seemed distantly familiar.

"So, what do you say Elowen? although I believe you go by Nel," he inquired.

"What do I say?" She repeated. If anybody had asked her what she really thought, she would've said this entire thing was a hoax. Maybe this funny looking man was actually a child napper, but anywhere was better than Wool's. However, he did not seem harmful, not like the type of man to be vile or malicious. "Of course!" She jumped to her feet. Worst case scenario Wool had always warned her that if she was ever kidnapped that the kidnappers would have to pay her a ransom to take her back.

"Very well then," Dumbledore bowed slightly at Wool. It was then that he pulled out a wand from inside of his long shimmering sleeves. He turned to her little belongings and flicked his wand opening a suite case and made all of the clothes, shoes and other little objects leapt in, in a neatly folded manner.

Nel's mouth gaped a jar at the magic in fascination. Wool looked terrified.

"It's real!" She exclaimed with disbelief.

"I'll be waiting for you at the entrance Ms. Saintday, so that you may bid your goodbyes and gather other belongings," he said as he headed towards the exit. "Wait!" Nel stopped him tugging on the back of his robe. "Can my friend Lucy come with us to? She's brilliant, much better student than I am!" She pleaded.

The man stopped and looked back at her kindly with his twinkling eyes.

"Nel," he began. "I'm afraid that Hogwarts is real for us, but it is not real for Ms. Bonilla," he began to explain. Somehow already knowing Lucy's last name. "Ms. Bonilla is a Muggle, and only witches and wizards can attend or see the school."

"But-" She pleaded. "Can you make an exception? She'll work hard I promise!"

Dumbledore placed a hand on the girl's head. "I'm afraid not child," he rested his hand there for a moment before vanishing into thin air.

Nel looked at the ground sadly. What would she do? She couldn't leave Lucy behind like that.

"Don't look so sullen," Wool's voice suddenly made her snap out of her thoughts. "You'll be back soon. I give it a day before that man is back begging me to take you back from who knows where," she said sticking her nose up in the air. "Very well then, say your goodbyes, Ta-ta." She clapped her hands and pushed her out of the room.

She looked at the austere corridors and the dirty floors recording them all into her memory. She would've really loved to splash them with some bold greens and yellows just to bring some life to this decadent place. Ms. Wool passed her in the hallway.

"Clown's come to take you back to the circus?" A voice called from one end of the corridor making her head snap in the direction. "'About time Freak Show," It was Aisha and Alf, two other members of the house who frequently taunted Nel.

"At least I'm getting out of here unlike the likes of you!" She shot back.

"At least we weren't abandoned here. Even your own parents didn't want your wart-face," Aisha laughed cruelly.

Nel stayed silent. That one hurt. The fact that she was an unwanted child hurt her more than she would ever let on. After all most kids living at Wool's belonged to parents that had lost custody of them, had been deported or had even passed away. Nel had been one of the few that had willingly been surrendered at an abbey's doorstep without a single hint or clue of who she was.

The day she was found they sought for records of her or the people who could be her parents yet found none. She was named by a Cornish nun and given the surname Saintday having been symbolically found on November 1st, All Saints Day.

"Yeah, nobody's going to miss your ugly spotted face 'round here," Aisha stuck out her tongue making a reference to the dotted beauty marks that marked the girl's face; which was considerably her most striking feature. She had managed to count at least ten of them. The marks were scattered in the figure of something, but she didn't know exactly what it was.

Angry she rolled up the sleeves of her black jumper.

"Want a souvenir so you don't miss me too much?" She threatened with a raised fist.

She was about to walk forward and put the bullies in her place when two hands reached and turned her around.

"Is it true?" It was Lucy kneeling down to her level to meet her eye. "That you're leaving?" Her dark eyes were wide with concern.

Nel looked down, almost in shame avoiding Lucy's eyes. "I know it's sudden, but I've been accepted to a school in Scotland. That funny looking man, he's come to take me," she wanted to tell Lucy she was a witch. Wanted to explain what it meant, but the vow of secrecy kept her from doing it. "But- I'm not sure if I want to go," she said feeling a sudden emptiness inside her. "You won't be there-"

"Nonsense!" She exclaimed. "You're going."

"I asked if you could come but he said no!"

"Doesn't matter," Lucy smiled at her encouragingly. "Just promise you'll call. Yeah?"

With her eyes brimming with rare tears Nel nodded and hugged her tightly. "Go," Lucy ushered her off. "Make the best of it, learn and most importantly be good Elowen Saintday."

The girls beamed at each other. "I'll see you during the holidays!" The younger one cried.  She didn't know what she would do without Lucy.

"Oh," Ms. Wool crowed looking down at the troublemaker. "You'll be back," she added smugly. It seemed like the woman was getting ready to enjoy the peace and quiet that would come. For now, Elowen Saintday would be somebody else's problem.

xxxxx

STARRING THE ORIGINAL CAST OF THE HARRY POTTER SERIES with ADAM DRIVER as SEVERUS SNAPE

Xxxxx

AN: Any "To Protect" fans out there? Shoutout to you!

[syafiatudina]

On Relation, Trust, and Banana: Conversation with Mai Nguyen Thi Thanh (2016)

D (Syafiatudina) : Hi Mai, can you tell me about your project during your residency in Kunslerhaus Bethanien, Berlin?

M (Mai Nguyen Thi Thanh) : My current (ongoing) project in Berlin focuses on the concept of identity and human relations, including on social media sites. I work with over 10 young women, aged from 25 to 35 years old, each with a clearly different appearance. I take photographs of myself in the private spaces of these young women (usually their bedroom or working place), having dressed myself in their clothes and jewelery, and used their accessories to change my hairstyle and hair color. Through this metamorphosis, I borrow and imitate the identities of these women, in order to “become” a completely new person. The end result of this process is a photo series of the different identities. 

 D: So before you take photos in their home, you discuss with them about your project?

M: Actually it’s not only taking photo. I call this process is an adventure. Since the first time I saw them, talking with them, go inside their room, their world. It was very hard. When I started to approach a girl in the street, I kept thinking on how I can start to talk with her? Will she like my idea? Will she think that it’s stupid? Will she believe in me? Or think that i am a swindle? The feeling when walk in to the house of a stranger, it is also very interesting. The darkness in the old wood staircases, sound, smell. And when you come inside their room. It feels like another world opened. Each room is the unit. And every stuff inside of these rooms told me many things about their owner. Then I did a performance there. I will behave as if I am the owner of that room, in that moment, with another life, another history. One photographer follow me and document this process. And off course, I had to talk with the girls about my project. From the things I learned from them, I do a performance where I tried to be them.

D: I will move away from your current project for a bit and ask you about your previous projects. I saw some of your previous works and your works were always involving other people. In few works, people, community members, or families were your collaborators. Then for your project in Berlin, relation with people is an important aspect as well. How you would compare your experience working with people in different places and context? Do you find any differences or similarities?

M: I think you have not seen all my works yet. I have just worked with people in the last 2 years. My previous works were focused on bodies and genders. I love to work alone in my studio. Frequent social contact makes me feel uncomfortable. 

In 2013 during the residency in South Korea I had the opportunity to meet some Vietnamese illegal workers there. The opportunity enriched my insight into this community and I was very surprised how I learnt from them many things. In 2014 during the residency in Sa Sa Art Project-Phnom Penh, I got the chance to meet the Vietnamese migrants who lived in Cambodia and have no personal/identity papers. They have lived there generations to generations, experienced wars, genocide, starvation, survived and are expecting for good things to happen in the future. Those experiences had evoked my interest for history, people, and matters related to identity and migration. Then I realised that I didn’t know anything about the world around me. Talking and approaching other people taught me many things about life. With the Vietnamese migrants living by the Tonle Sap lake far away in Cambodia, I learnt a lot of history, about the fears and hopeful. Through the living time in Berlin, I learnt to live in a strange cultural environment with the limitation of my English. The local people I work with are from different cultures and in different situation, but still they all have own daily matters to deal with. Sharing is the way to make us stronger.

D: So back to your current project in Belrin, can you tell me a bit about this people? How you meet them?

M: Well the girl that you see now with pink hair. I met her in a flea market near my house. When I first saw her, her outfit looks so impression for me. She looks like a  little girl. She wears colorful  staff, a lovely bag with kids style and  chew candy. She holds her boyfriend’s hand and they look very happy.I think her identity and character are very different to me. So I want to know more about her. I came and talked with her about my project. I asked her to meet again and maybe to take photo in her house. And she said yes, why not? She gave me her e-mail. I visited her flat and talked with her for a long time. We talk and wrote email together. And from that I learned that she had not only one glitter side which I saw. She also suffer from personality disorders, eating disorders, depressions, anxiety, panic attacks since experiences she ever got. So she was not really comfortable with stranger. Her boyfriend was always beside her every time we met. The beautiful and colourful appearance seem to be the way that she used to confront with her problem. When I visit her flat, it looks like a shop. A real shop. She has many staff, colorful things, photos and many unicorns. I got overwhelmed there like I’m coming to another world. I want to look at all her staff, sometimes I was worried that my excitement could be consider as rude gesture. But she showed me her space with a pround and exciting also. It’s a wonderful feeling. I’m really happy with that.

D: Yea, I can see that from the pictures. I’m now comparing her room with your room in Bethanien. I remember that you always wear dark colors for your clothes. So when I see you in this pictures, it feels to me that you are a different person. How does it feel for you when you do the performance by imitating their identity?

M: I don’t feel comfortable. I don’t like performance, dancing, or do anything same in public space. I feel afraid if people looking at me. I don’t feel confidence in my own body. So when I do the performance, I tell everyone to leave.

D: You tell the owner of the house to leave as well?

M: (laughing) Maybe she thinks I’m crazy. She invite me to come to her house, use her clothes and staff. And when I start my performance, I ask her to leave because I was too shy. I feel shy if they stand there and saw me do my performance. And maybe. Maybe if someone try to do performance to look like me, I think I don’t want to see that. It’s like looking at a mirror and I don’t want to see myself. So it’s better for them to go away that room when I do my performance.

D: When you do the performance, you can ask another persons to leave. But in your exhibition, you will put your photo in front of the visitors, in public. What’s your feeling about this? Are you afraid? Do you think, as an artist, you will continue to do performance?

M:  Photo is easier for me, cause it’s just show a moment pass. I don’t get the pressure that some one looking at me, judge me. I ever tried to do perform 1 or two time with some friends, and then I decided to give up. It’s too much for me.

D: Now, you already have 4 persons who participate in your project and you will look for more. After four experiences of copying other person’s identity, do you feel any difference in yourself? Is there any change in your self?

M:  I’m not sure how my self was impacted, let’s see it later. But this process help me learn more about my self and other people. I’m not good in communicate. I was very afraid when start this project. I’m afraid to meet stranger with different language, afraid to be far away my familiar world, afraid to touch to the private of another one. It was a challenge experience but very interesting.

D: How you come up with this idea? 

M: This is my first time in Europe, a place so distant from home geographically and culturally. It is a place where I harbor no past, no judgment, no binding: a place where nobody knows who I am. I am constantly occupied with the idea that I could become anyone here, do any crazy things, and forget about all of the social boundaries and taboos in my homeland. But identities are invisble, strong attached roots. There are morning wakened up, with a muzzy mood in the restroom; listening to the noises downstair in the backyard in a strange language, suddenly I’ve realised that I am in Germany. That feelings repeats many times in my first month, when I saw someone young laying down on the grasses sunbathing, with a bottle of beer holding in hand, or when i walked in a dancing groups of drunk people. Feeling lost/ as an outsider/ as a stranger is obvious and frequently. This project as said above is an adventure of mine in the western, a strange world, in which the questions about cultures, freedom, liberation were raised

D: Can you tell me about the other persons that you’ve met for this project?

M: I’m working together with a punk now. Before my project is focusing on young girl from 25 to 35 years old. I didn’t focus on older people.   But this woman made me change. I met her in an afternoon when I walking on street. I just saw her from her back. She look big and strong with a Mohawk and green hair. She was holding hands with one person behind her and walking slowly. It’s look peaceful and lovely. When I overtake them to talking, she introduce her daughter who is 14 years old. You know, I was talking with a punk mother, it’s so interesting. All mother I know, they look serious, gentle, many people think that sacrifice is a quality so they ignor their favourite since their youth, try to look normal like people around. I was very curious about this mother. I learned many things from her ; how she slept with her Mohawk hairs , how she overcame the cancer, how she brought the abandoned animals back home. The living room of her family is small, but they still shared it to the refugees. I feel by her the fulliness of love and liberty.

D: You told me that you also made series of dictionaries which compiled words you’ve learned from your collaborators. What’s your favourite word so far?

M: It can be called “dictionaries” or simply observations of key vocabularies from the conversations with my collaborators. It is kind of a guide map to the constructions of my conversations. For my favourite word so far, I think I will choose Punk. I don’t know what’s punk before. I learned from the punk woman that “To be a punk is more than “a style”, it’s a way of life”. I learned many things from people I’ve met.

D: I like the idea of learning from other people. I think learning is not only from school or teacher. We also learn many things from our mothers, friends, or neighbors. I think your project is also a way of learning from other people’s experience or life. It’s a school of life. Do you have favorite person or experience from your project so far?

M: I think each person is special by their way. So the whole process is very interesting for me. There’s another process on how I meet people. Should I tell you about the process?

D: Yes. Please!

M: Okay. So do you know Tinder? Do you use it?

D: No. I’m afraid that I might meet a criminal or serial killer through Tinder. Maybe I’ll try it when I have more confidence (laughing)

M:  As you know, Tinder is a dating application, where people find each other by exchanging photos and some brief informations. I had created many different accounts there. Each one is with a fake name, fake age, fake photos and fake indentities to speak with the men there. With some roles I had many “super like” and flirts, with some I received nothing. There are some who didn’t reply or even broke up the contacts. Appearance is the only thing to get attention there. At first I worried that lies and playing roles like this will take advantadges of the faith and feelings of others: But most of the people I met don’t take the relation on Tinder so serious. There too many choices at a glance. I will use few of the chats for my work. It can be a video installation. Of course all participants will stay anonym.

D: I’m thinking about trust now. I told you that I don’t use Tinder because I don’t believe in stranger. Do you think in this project you have more trust on strangers, on people?

M: I thought when I trust people, they will also trust me. Even I am a liar while using a fake indentity on Tinder,  my feelings were true. Probably all of us are liars. All the beautiful, sexy, funny pictures, showing a lot of muscles. What do we want to show by presenting these pictures to other people? Is it the image that we want others to look at? Is it the expectation for attention from others?

D: I think what you said is important. When you trust people, they will believe in you. I can’t imagine if I’m you. I also come from Yogyakarta where almost everyone know each other, especially in the art scene. And I don’t think I can start to interact with stranger when I’m in new city. I imagine you are like jumping to the ocean. You don’t know what will happen. If it will success or fail.

M: Anyway I don’t think that the trust is important here – on Tinder. People don’t looking for trust. They might looking for fun. They also might do like this just for pretend, in order to release and relax from stress of being who they really are. Or maybe they just to find something to fill their lonely.

D: After you told me about your project in Berlin, I start to remember my experience when I did residency in Frankfurt, Germany. At that time, I always feel lonely, but not sad. I’m happy to see new things, places, and having new experiences. But I also feel disconnected. Do you think this project relates to the experience being disconnected in unfamiliar (foreign) place and you want to find connection with the people?

M: Yes. It has improved me to open my mind and my self to connection with the people. In this project, my focus on fake identities raises various questions about identity, culture, and the relationships between humans and social networks. Using this nexus as vantage point, I’m projecting my feelings and analyze the loneliness and the loss caused by migration. 

D: You said to me that your project is focusing on the social network. Nowadays, when we talked about social network, we will think of social media sites such as Facebook, Twitter. Yet, there’s also social network through face to face interaction, in real life. And in your project, you mix this two types of connection, digital and real time, through meeting people in the streets and on Tinder. How you would compare this two types of connection?

M: These both connections enable me to get in contact with people whom i rarely meet in my daily life. You must have seen some people in your life on the streets, on train or in the markets who made you curious and wish if only you could know more about them. In a glance of hesitation you both passed by and probably never have the chance to encounter each other again. This project encourage me to touch the life of strangers. I also enjoy to talk with strangers on mobile phone apps. It's like reading a book and free your imagination as far as possible. Our sense won't be limited with either the visual impressions about the appearance, colours, noises or smell. A man on Tinder told me: “If you meet people in real life, they wearing a mask of being friendly and polite. But in the internet, people are very fast on showing their real self. They lose the mask so fast. Because why should you wear a mask, if you never see these people in real.”

D: My last question is on trust. You said people on Tinder, they don’t look for trust. They look for something fun to do. But then, when you talked to someone on the street, it also needs trust. They need to trust you and you need to trust them. So I think your approach is a test of trust. But nowadays, we know that it’s hard to trust other people, strangers on the street, especially with the recent bombing incidents in few places across the world. So what’s your opinion about trust in your project? Do you think we can still have trust to other people?

M: Your question reminded me of my childhood. Sometimes on the days when my mom received her salary, she bought for her 3 kids, each one of us a banana. I usually save for the last. My elder brother was always the one who finished his banana first and came to me asking for one piece of my part. He always promised just to bite a small piece and never kept his words. I was very upset and swore never to trust him again. I will never give him anything again. But then the next time, I still trusted him and gave him mine. I still love to trust people. Even when life is not as simple as losing a piece of the banana. But if I don't have faith in people, I think I will lose more.

[rawinternets]

Star Wars Episode 7: A rediscovery.

I said before that Episode 1 / the prequels were the main impetus for this whole exercise. That is true, in a way. But it is only true in that I needed to see the prequels and the originals so I could compare my feelings about them with my Ep7 and Ep8 feelings.

If Ep7 and Ep8 didn’t exist, I doubt I would have undertaken this exercise. See, as I mentioned in the opening post, I had a suspicion that the new episodes were all the things many have criticized them for: derivative, overly commercial, written by committee. The magic of the originals has been lost, and we are left with simulacra.

It’s important that I come clean with a fact: I hate JJ Abrams. I think he’s a hack. He is fantastic at opening stories and god-awful at closing them. My hatred for JJ and his trademark approach began with the TV show Lost, where JJ opened an incredible number of fascinating storylines in the first 2 seasons, only to ad-lib the next four seasons to a highly unsatisfying ending. He re-made Star Trek by essentially cribbing from all the best Star Trek movies in the past, and I enjoyed that movie - while watching it, but not much upon reflection. For example, Young Cap’n Kirk is driving his father’s sexy car through the cornfields of Iowa - until he drives it over a ravine as big as the Grand Canyon. in the middle of Iowan corn fields. It’s a beautiful spectacle until you stop to think for a half second... wait, what? But by that time you’ve moved on to the next spectacle. 

Like eating a Big Mac, JJ Abrams tastes good in the moment and then you realize what you just ate is mostly soybean paste, flash-frozen low quality meat, spongy bread, rubber cheese, all buoyed by artificial aromas that trick your brain into thinking that this is delicious, but only in the moment. 

In short, a Big Mac is not good food, and JJ Abrams movies are not good movies. 

But I really wanted to give this movie another chance. I wanted to know - was Episode 7 the “one beer too many” on a big night out, the one that feels good in the moment, but you later regret? Turns you off the beer brand once and for all? Is Episode 7 the extra Halloween candy that you eat at 10:30pm that makes you nauseous, impels you to throw the whole bag out? Did I lose any love and hope for Star Wars because Episode 7 delivered too much of the same thing, a Disney-ified, Abrams-ified, unoriginal pastiche of a pastiche? 

The answer is “yes” and “no,” but mostly “yes.” This movie starts off amazingly - classic Abrams - but quickly loses its way, and tries to find it again by running into the same grooves we’ve already worn well over the past 7 Star Wars releases (in this respect, Rogue One gets the pass and Ep7 gets hurt because of my order). And while I was still eager to see Episode 8 (review to come), I was far less optimistic for the franchise, as I could see the blueprint for the future, and it is the same as the past. JJ Abrams is set to direct Episode 9, if you didn’t already know. 

But of course -- JJ Abrams filmmaking is perfectly attuned to this kind of review. Taking poll on my feelings in the moment is the best way to watch an Abrams movie. That way, I can’t think too deeply about the fact that we’ve seen this before - in copy or rhyme - in nearly every scene shot. So even though this movie grades out not great - I feel even less great about it the more I think about it. 

Onto the scores. 

Average score: 6.57 Standard deviation: 2.01

Scroll. 7. Wait, why is there a new empire and a new rebellion? Why doesn’t a new republic have the ability to amass more forces to defeat a fragmented group of Empire loyalists? Are we saying the Empire never fell? If so, what were we celebrating at the end of Ep6? (Movie moves too fast to have these thoughts in the moment... these come to you afterward). 

Jakku. 8. A cool star destroyer shot, Very cool stormtrooper visuals. BB8 is pretty cool. "This will begin to make things right." Poe is cool. Great and tangible feeling on the raid. Super scary. But wait... how did the First Order not scan for the X-wing? And Poe didn’t try to hide it? Even an awning or some covering would be fine. But still... good tension in the scene. Flametrooper! But wait... Another secret piece of info goes with a droid in the desert... mmmmmmm OK... Really like humanizing the stormtrooper, with a dramatic bloody handprint on (we later know is Finn’s) stormtrooper head. PTSD. And then comes Kylo Ren’s badass ship (that looks a lot like Darth Vader’s....).

Kylo Ren. 9. Kylo freezing the blaster bolt is superdope. I can forgive his Darth Vader wannabe character mask. I'm fine with the subtle "you talk first? I talk first?" joke by Poe. Fine to make fun of the mask as well. FUCK Captain Phasma - I immediately have distaste for this character. Finn’s Stormtrooper regret @ the massacre is cool. I like that.

Finn’s break. 7. Finn taking his mask off - a really powerful first shot. Captain Phasma is worthless. Did you know that this character was created because someone made concept art of a chrome stormtrooper for fun, Kathleen Kennedy walked into someone’s office and saw it and said “that has to be in the movie, it looks so cool,” and then they decided it should be a woman soldier for marketing purposes? What I’m trying to say is, the storytelling process was not the purest here. Phasma is exhibit A. 

Rey intro. 9.  JJ at his best: Really cool atmospherics on Jakku. Amazing wide shots of the empty destroyer bay. Rey is hot. Amazing shots. Huge scale of the desert and the downed star destroyer. Speeder... fine. Tie fighter wing down. amazing speeder shot with another downed destroyer. Fine with the stupid bird. (But... we have another mysterious sorta-poor desert dwelling force-sensitive hero?)

Trading. 9. Pretty beautiful shots (although borrowing heavily from Ep4?). Fine with the trading. I like the weirdo aspect of this girl idolizing the rebels and meticulously counting days. making a cool bread loaf thing. Lives in an ATAT, that's awesome too. Wearing silly rebel hat.

BB8 meets Rey. 8. Sorta bad dialogue (and “classified droid” of course). Nice desert shots.

Torture of Poe. 8. The mind reading is intense. Hux is fine. (But haven’t we seen a main character get tortured by Darth / Kylo before?)

Trading Part 2. 8. Why doesn’t Rey take the money for the droid? She’s so pure and perfect? Serendipity? 

Finn Rescues Poe. 7.  Wait... why? I guess Finn heard a good pilot is on board and he wants out. I don't love Finn’s heavy breathing. (Have you seen this? In bad action movies or even good ones, the actors are constantly hyperventilating to amp up the tension. I’m seeing it even in Harry Potter, particularly with Ron. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it ... like the Wilhelm Scream). The dialogue is fine but not great between the two, trying to get the vibe together. Tie fighter leaving the hangar bay... Kind of like that. Turrets on the outside of Star Destroyers never hit anyone... why do they exist? One tie fighter can escape a star destroyer!? Why do THEY exist? 

They crash. 8.  Fighter gonna crash. Hux is fine. Phasma is fine. Kind of a cool shot on the Tie fighter crash. I like the wide desert shots. Tie fighter sinking is cool. Finn stripping is humanizing. Desert shots are great here. (But we’re again following some crashed droids/people on a desert planet?)

Kylo and Hux bicker. 8.  What's with the bickering? But they do a good job. Kind of harkens back to Tarkin and Darth (too much similarity?)

Finn meets Rey. 7.  I like the monster kicking him out of the way from drinking the water at the watering hole. This is the point in the movie where I started to think - Rey is a Mary Sue? BB8 shocking Finn is fine. Finn laying it on a little thick with the humor.

Escape in the Falcon. 8.  Stop taking my hand! Meh. The Falcon! “That one’s garbage! ... The garbage will do.” Fine, pretty good. Cool shot of the Falcon escaping. BB8 in free fall in the Falcon is fine. "I'm getting pretty good at this" says Finn. You got one Tie fighter, dude. (The longer this goes the more this feels like old sequences from Ep4...) Going inside the destroyer is cool (and then feels like being in the Death Star in ep6...). The shut-engines-off-flip-downwards-and-shoot was a cool move, and some good shots in that sequence. 

Kylo temper tantrum. 8. I like this part. It's petty and stupid, but it's a good contrast to the control of Vader.

Falcon and Han/Chewy. 7. Finn says “Droid please” (eye roll). BB8 gives a flame/lighter “Thumbs up.” Meh. Rey is a Mary Sue perfect mechanic... Finn being into her is a little meh. Tractor beam is meh. Han and Chewy discover them, meh fine but how the fuck did they just so happen to be there? They explain away that Han and Chewy just happen to be right where the Falcon is, moments after it flies for the first time after sitting on Jakku for years. Classic JJ. Pretty blatant sentimentality by Han that I'm not really getting drawn into. Luke Skywalker map. All this said, Harrison Ford is good as always.

Rathtars. 7.  Death gang, Mantoon, Rathtar... meh. How did the second gang get on without him knowing? Fine with this I guess. Sad that Han is a sad old man hauling freight and swindling people. 7 movies and nothing changed. Rathtar monster is fine. (A little like Indiana Jones with large ball-like thing rolling down a hallway-like thing). Not huge on this chase sequence. Another alien tentacle monster dragging hero somewhere without eating hero. (Where have I seen this before?)

Snoke. 6.  This is where I really start turning on the movie as it relies more and more on worn tropes. Another massive hologram... who the fuck is this guy? Another... weapon? This speech sucks by Hux. Who is this ultra powerful force sensitive villain? Kylo Ren is Han Solo's kid... mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmeh. Where did this new emperor come from? Is he a Sith? What the fuck is all this.

Rey and Solo fly. 7.  Comedic + Mary Sue Mechanic is meh. Lots of references to old Star Wars here. Luke is running away? Why? (Is JJ opening mysteries that won't be closed?) Rey saying “I didn’t realize a planet could be this green” is a nice touch.

Han offers Rey a job. 7.  Why is Rey so attached to Jakku and her parents who have been gone for so long? Meh.

Maz Kanata's. 5.  Cantina 2... I really expected to like it better than I did, and I didn’t expect to like it that well. Really shitty music. So derivative as a scene. Relationshp advice with Leia? mmmmmmmeh. Empire again. Mmmmmmeh. Finn is a runner. Meh. Maz is a New Yoda, sorta. Meh. What's the point of Maz climbing on the table to look at Finn?

Kylo has feelings. 8. Crushed Darth Vader helmet is pretty cool. Have you seen the “Emo Kylo Ren” twitter? Worth it. 

Finn tries to run. 7.  This storyline is fine... Finn's a coward. He's in love with Rey for "looking at me" meh. They aren't so much conversing as just saying sentences at each other. Do they even know each other? it doesn't feel like a solid connection. (Kind of like another heterogeneous faux-mance of yore?)

Rey finds Luke's lightsaber. 8. I wrote: “At least it was a pretty interesting vision. Captivating. Lightsaber calls to her! interesting. Nobody waiting for you in Jakku. She runs away... interesting, OK, good.”

Starkiller. 1. Wait... the new base is a planet. It's a third fucking death star. Hux makes a shitty Nazi speech. What the flying fuck is this shit. Are we in the same system here? How did they build this weapon so easily when the Empire collapsed? How come people can see the weapon destroying the entire planetary system? What the shit. Fuck that. It looked cool at least, but this is a fatal and inexcusable flaw in this film.

BB8 Macguffin. 4. Sick of BB8 as the macguffin too, now. Rey wants to run, fine.

First order attacks Maz's. 2.  Meh. Give lightsaber to the team. How is the First Order here? Is everything in the galaxy really fucking close to each other? What is going on? Kylo is here too? And now Finn is going use a lightsaber. And Han can shoot without looking. And there's a TR8R droid with a like handheld weapon that fights lightsabers? And this novice can use the lightsaber and not die? And Han saves him and then gets captured? Big bowl of Nope. 

Resistance saves the day... 6. Why are these guys here? for the droid, sure, I guess. Everyone's looking for Luke. I'm sick of this battle already. Nice tracking shot of Poe I guess but sorta meh. Maybe I’m still hung over from the Starkiller reveal. 

Kylo meets Rey. 8. Force freezing Rey in place is cool enough. Kylo with Rey is good. Han watches her get kidnapped. Finn gets balls.

Han sees Leia. 6. I'm supposed to be sentimental about this but it's just sad. C3PO still sucking, all these years later.

Rebel base. 7.  Finn’s Reunion with Poe Dameron... fine. In the rebel base, fine. Leia is... fine. Old woman. Still fighting. Sad. What a treadmill this saga has been for her and for everyone. Map is partially complete, meh. R2 nostalgia. Meh.

Leia and Han. 7. Is this good? I can't tell if it's good. It's fine. Snoke seduced our son. Mmmmmmmeeeeehhhh. Still good in the kid! Good vs evil hooray! Turn the evil man good! (Where have we heard all this before?) 

Rey and Kylo battle of wills. 9. Kylo takes off his mask. Good drama and reveal. Rey is attracted to him. Good, interesting, sort of sexually charged energy and tension here. Really well done scene - particularly well acted. 

Snoke angry. 6. I wrote: “Just meh. Fuck Snoke.”   

Rey mind trick. 8.  Sure, I like it, she's organically discovering the force. Preternatural. Fine, OK with that. I like the stormtroopers walking away from Kylo’s temper tantrum.

The starkiller base again? 1.  Charging the weapon from nearby sun... just... pure spectacle. "It's another death star" says Han/Leia. No shit. Power of the sun... MMMMMMmeeeeeeeehhhhh. So unoriginal. "There's always a way to blow it up" says Han. Thermal oscillator.... mmmmmmm. Disable the shields (just like Ep6). Gotta be there on the planet! Of course, as always! (Let's attack another fucking Death Star the same fuckin' way as before - with a bombing run and a sneaky secret force on the ground).

Han and Leia bye. 6.  Meh, is how I feel.

Han et al assault base. 3. Meeehehhhhhhhhhhhhh let's land at light speed Hollywood style! The ship hangs off a ledge, duh! "That's not how the force works" meh. Yeah that's fine, but what a stupid plan. 15 minutes until death! of course! Phasma walking around by herself of course! Finn in charge! Meh. Not loving Finn. Rey sneaking around. Meh. Not a big fan of Boyega's over-acting comedic. "Yeah there is a trash compactor” meeeehhhh. More comedic tensiony stuff. Too much fan service, too much hokey. 

Another death star assault. 3.  It's pretty, but stupid. C3PO "it would take a miracle to save us now" meehhhhh. 

Kylo kills Han. 5.  Emotionally pretty sterile feeling. I’m just not there with them. And another infinite column for Han to fall down (like the Emperor, Darth Maul, Luke in ep5...) And everyone there to dramatically watch... just... meh.  Snoke... boo. This dialogue is just kinda shitty. "You know it's true. search your feelings." Adam driver does very well in this scene with Rey. He's really great. John Boyega sucking... overdramatic. No connection to Leia here as she feels Han’s death. Just don’t care. 

Kylo vs Rey and Finn. 7. Kylo is pretty badass. Amateur lightsaber fight: not a big fan. Pretty small fan, actually. Rey is badass but still amateur. Another ledge to hang off! Still, the fight is pretty cool. Snow steaming is cool after the lightsaber slices through. And even, a whole other ledge, a chasm in fact! Meh fine.

Trench run two. 6.  Another trench run. Poe flying inside = another DS2 core reactor shot.

Starkiller blows up. 6.  Snoke really sucks. Here comes the Falcon to save the day of course! In your darkest hour. Pretty shot. Pretty Death Star 3 explosion (and another death star blows up again...)

Celebration. 5. Dramatic Leia blows by Chewy and hugs Rey, but they never met. 

R2 wakes up. 6. C3po *still* sucks. Why is his arm red again? The part of the galaxy that has the map that is unknown and uncharted is right in the middle of the damn galaxy??

Rey goes to Luke. 9.  Beautiful scenery (Skellig Michael in Ireland). Dramatic. There's Luke! OK I like this scene. This is good. Super dramatic and memorable and iconic. At least the movie ended on a strong note. 

VERDICT

Is there anything else to say? The plot hangs together like a disintegrating, snotty piece of tissue paper. Everything is a crib of something else in the SW universe. The visuals are pretty and the beginning is fire, and most of the rest is obnoxious. Kylo and Rey are actor highlights, to be sure... but Leia is wooden and virtually inaccessible, Han is on autopilot, Finn is trying too hard, and Poe is fine (but not captivating to me). This movie really lost me and even though the numbers went up and down after ~Maz, my feelings were pretty low for the last 2/3 of the journey. Five “9″ scenes - mostly at the beginning or the end - and a fair amount of 7/8′s but also a lot of bad scores. A score of every number, except 10. A movie that scores better than it maybe should have, and it didn’t score all that well in the end. 

REVIEW LINKS:

Introduction: Star Wars, a rediscovery.

Rogue One: 6.92 / 10.00 (stdev 2.06).

Episode 4: A New Hope. 8.00 / 10.00 (stdev 1.34).

Episode 5: The Empire Strikes Back. 8.00 / 10.00 (stdev 1.29).

Episode 1: The Phantom Menace. 5.00 / 10.00 (stdev 2.08). But probably worse than that, actually.

Episode 2: Attack of the Clones. 5.48 / 10.00 (stdev 2.07).

Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith. 7.00 / 10.00 (stdev 1.77).

Episode 6: Return of the Jedi. 7.90 / 10.00 (stdev 1.91).

Episode 7: The Force Awakens. 6.57 / 10.00 (stdev 2.01).

Episode 8: The Last Jedi. 6.31 / 10.00 (stdev 1.89).

Verdict: Star Wars, A rediscovery.