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witch-hazels-musings · 2 years

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cecidi ad vos

warning: comfort / fluff - exhausted/sleeping reader, character carries reader to bed/couch - character perspective, pre-relationship | “i fell to you“

includes: ayato, childe, diluc, kaeya

character x gn reader | anthology

ayato

you try to prove yourself but you don’t need too. there are so many qualities you have he’s astonished you don’t realize them on your own

supportive, dedicated, wanting to do more, always more, until there isn’t any left to give and yet you still find room to pull from

he’s seen these in you since the day you met, and it’s why he allows you to work at the pace you do, but now it’s past time and he can tell simply by the quietness of the room

With a sigh, Ayato finally makes his way back into his office. The halls are empty, the attendants have gone on their way but, most of all, the nuisance distractions have passed under the estate gates and are headed anywhere else. He ruffles his hair and sets his clothes straight expecting to see someone feverishly at work on the tasks he had to leave unattended. No matter that it’s late, no matter that the sun has set hours ago and most everyone not essential has taken themselves to bed, he has no doubts you’ll be sitting on the other side of your table reviewing and organizing the work to lighten his load.

It’s quiet, serene, calm as he makes his way through the partially closed shoji door. The flickering lights cast peaceful shadows along the wall, enhance the scale of the swords resting in their holsters or the cups that have inevitably gone cold. He searches, considers calling out into the stillness of the room, but when he turns the corner and sees you slumped on the desk his heart sinks into his stomach.

The first worry is someone was able to reach you. The countless enemies with his name on their list have found a way to his most precious secret and snuffed out their light, but as he makes his way to you - with far quicker steps than he would ever share - he notices the slow, steady breaths that raise and lower your shoulders.

Your head is resting on one side of your arm, the other loosely rests your lap. He sees the pen you were using hasn’t left the obedient fingers they belong to. It’s as if you were in mid thought when slumber stole you from greeting him. How disappointed his is to miss seeing the smile he has grown increasingly fond of.

Ayato chuckles to himself while his needy fingers brush your hair. “Did you not promise me you’d stay awake till my return?” he hums with a smirk, “ah, no matter, this sight has it’s merits too.”

With ease, he moves to your side and makes himself room by adjusting the cushions and slipping his feet under the long, mahogany table. As if he knows you won’t awaken, he repositions you so your head is resting comfortably on his lap, your body now covered by the long outer coat he often wears. He moves the lamp so your eyes are not blinded by the light.

Once settled, he pulls the table toward him and begins where you left off all the while his fingers absent-mindedly ghost over your hair and he imagines all the wonderful faces you’ll show him when you wake up.

childe

you take on more than you can chew, but he likes that in a person. the thrill of being the underdog, of the uncertainties that you’ll come out the other end, and the spectacular reward that follows when you succeed. he knows this high well, and you do too

it also helps that he knows just where to find you when your obsession takes hold. the sudden overwhelmed desire that consumes you the moment the idea pops in your head until it’s taken all your energy and you either pass out where you are or as your walking down the street

he doesn’t mind catching you, in fact he prefers that it’s him, but he hates how vulnerable you are when it all comes crashing apart and he’s not there to contain it

His operatives keep him apprised to everything that goes on in the city. Gathering information requires tact, speed, subtlety, and as long as those under him can meet his requirements, they will earn a steady wage. Though it’s not difficult to keep eyes and ears hidden in the walls and cracks of this bustling city, he feels slight pity for the operative tasked at trailing you.

‘Don’t kill the messenger,’ means nothing to him when it comes to your whereabouts and safety.

So, here he finds himself, pushing trough the crowds with a scowl he can’t erase all because the information on his report has soured his mood.

When he enters the small, secluded shop in one of the more questionable parts of the harbor, he can feel the tightness in his jaw increase. It’s dark, but that doesn’t slow him down; why you even liked this place he would never know. The musty books, the terrible lighting in a building that’s sandwiched between businesses he’d consider shady to say the least. There were plenty of other book shops you could go to, he was even happy to find what you were searching for, but that stubbornness of yours always won through in the end.

When he finally finds you in the twists and turns of the maze-like shelves, he’s immediately annoyed to see some other far too close for his own enjoyment.

You’re leaning against the plush chair, legs crossed, a shawl draped over your legs. He recognized it immediately as one he purchased for you a few months ago. Your eyes are closed, a book and sprawling notes scattered in your lap while some lurker makes their way to your side. He’s pissed, but not at you.

“Stay asleep, okay ... I won’t be long --” The stranger’s cut off by the sudden snatch of their wrist that’s reaching toward you. Childe isn’t playing games, and its obvious by the fury flashing in his eyes.

“Hey there,” he begins in pleasant tone even though his expression is far from it, “I couldn’t help but notice your hand looks a little broken.”

“---it’s not bro--”

The stranger groans as Childe twists his wrist, a soft cracking sound filling the normally quiet bookstore, “Oh, how strange. It definitely looked that way. Let me get a closer look,” he threatens and though the stranger stumbles toward you he manages to block their access by shielding you with his body. Clicking his teeth, he shakes his head and looks the stranger dead in their eye, “This looks bad, might want to have a doctor look at that.”

He doesn’t let go until a few more soft pops fill the air and the strangers cheeks are wet, even though they are nodding so fast nothing can stick for long. Childe watches as they stumble away in a panic, arm to their chest as they dash out the door. A shiver of displeasure runs down his spine until he hears something stir behind him.

Quickly, he adjusts so he can see you, one arm locking to support him against the opposite side of the chair, the other gripping the backrest to keep him close.

“Ch-childe?” you groan, fingers rubbing your eyes as you slowly wake up. He’s fixed on you, watching your every move, but that’s nothing new. “Wh-what are you doing -?”

“Trying to draw on your face, but you woke up and now all my plans are ruined.”

“Haha,” you poke back, waving him away so you can adjust and stretch. He so badly wants you but he’s trying to be patient. It sucks. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“I’d suspect,” he teases, assisting you at removing the items from your lap. He puts them back in your bag not caring if all the contents actually belong to you or not. He’d like to see someone go against him anyway - he could use the fight. “Let’s get you to a real bed, yeah?”

“Mmm, what?” Your still groggy and though you’ve started to get up, you’ve fallen back against the chair, confused.

“Home. Let’s get you home,” he chuckles as he offers you his hand and slings your bag over his shoulder. When you take it, nodding in agreement, he watches how you follow after him with sleep still clouding your eyes and hopes you can’t feel how he trembles as he leads you out of the bookstore.

diluc

you don’t know when to quit, and he doesn’t know how to deny you. try as hard as he can, he continuously fails. there’s no real need for you to take on some of his work, or for you to work on your own in the upper floor of Angels Share, but you do it anyway

he’s attempted, many times, to dismiss your suggestions - at first they started small, a little, “i can write up the new menu for you,” or a “let me grab these glasses,” and now it’s turned into you working on his resupply orders while, somehow, simultaneously handling your own work

‘you don’t work for me,’ he’s said once before and nearly had his chest explode when you replied, ‘I know that, but I just want to help you ... is that okay?’ -- no, he should have said, but yes is what came out

“Do remember to pay your tab in full before you leave,” Diluc reminds, for the third time, to the stumbling patron struggling to get out of their seat. They mumble something while he rolls his eyes and hides his annoyance in the rows of clean glasses waiting to be used. Though they’d have to be another night since it’s nearly close and he wants to be on his way as much as he wishes the stragglers will leave.

It’s nothing more than a miracle that he doesn’t slam the door and lock it as soon as the clock ticks past the hour, but he’s practicing patience, which isn’t his strong suit.

“Thmk you --” the patron slurs as they wave goodbye to the cross-armed bartender. He simply nods and watches them struggle to leave. At least they paid.

Diluc makes quick work of the last few tasks before heading to the office to lock up his earnings. The lockbox feels heavy which is always a good feeling. Especially as the new month draws nearer. Far better to have enough to restock than be low.

When he opens the door, he practically does a double take. Instead of finding an empty office full of stuffy papers and dreary expectations, he sees you passed out on the small office desk, head teetering on your crossed arms. Diluc looks outside the office at the empty tavern before glancing back to you as if there’s some answer as to why you’d still be here. His throat feels dry, no matter how many times he swallows.

It’s soft, but he calls your name somewhat hoping you don’t reply. The noise isn’t enough to wake you so he clenches his jaw and takes a few steps into the small room. Carefully, he places the lockbox on the shelf.

“I thought you left ...” he says so tenderly it makes his chest ache. Diluc sighs and examines the work you’ve laid out beneath you. It’s far more than he anticipated you tackle in one sitting - curiously, your work ethic reminds him of someone. He’s about to call your name again, one hand presses firmly against the paper covered desk while the other hovers over your back to help you sit up, but, when you stir and touch his palm, he curls his electrified fingers and lets his head dip further toward the desk. “Even now,” he laments as he lifts his head and watches you dream, “I can’t bring myself to ...” Diluc’s hand moves hesitantly to your cheek but is unable to make the connection.

He knows what he has to do but wonders if he can.

With ease, he moves to lift you from the chair. He takes great care in allowing you to fall against him, stopping just before he lifts you to ensure you are secure, and he’s ready. Diluc turns to leave the office when you suddenly nuzzle against him. Your hand finds safety against his chest as your warm fingers touch his clothes. He stalls, trying not to pass out from the sensation as his blinking eyes gaze down at your sleeping form.

It’s here, in the half-lit, empty tavern where his arms hold you close and your breath fills the silence that he realizes just how bad he has it. “Rest well,” he pleads as he carries you up the stairs and to the apartment above.

kaeya

your always working or that’s what kaeya perceives. he’s be happy if you took a break, any type of break, but he knows that’ll never happen. honestly, he’s shocked you and Jean aren’t best friends, a match made in heaven, because the way he has to look after both of you makes his head ache -- why is it that everyone who works with the Knights of Favonious are some of the hardest workers and worst ‘taking care of your selfers’

the amount of times he’s had to literally take things from you just so you don’t get sick, or the number of books he’s had to personally return to Lisa are enough to give anyone nightmares

it’s not his fault that you thinking filing paperwork or answering letters is, ‘fun,’ but it’s becoming, very frequently, his problem

There were many things Kaeya hated. Liars, cheats, those who would do harm to others, paperwork; and yet, out of all of those, he hated being on patrol the most. It didn’t matter what time of the day, it was always two things:

One. boring

Two. severely cutting into his personal pleasure time

He especially hated it when he had to patrol at night. The sounds of laughter drifting from the local taverns filling his ears but he’s unable to join them, or gather useful information that would benefit the very knights who force him to keep his distance. Kaeya dreads these shifts, but at least he has one thing to look forward to upon his return: you.

It was well into twilight when he returns to headquarters. His feet hurt but not as much as his heart when he watched the lights of the taverns dim into darkness. He swore he shed a tear at the sight. Next time he’ll ask Lawrence to cover for him; that guy loves being on patrol.

The halls are empty save for a few research students holding deep, uninteresting conversations in the workshops. Their voices carry even if they don’t mean to. It’s a nice ambiance for his solo trek back to his office, and, it’s along the way he stumble across your own.

As expected, the light from your office is spilling into the hallway. The partially cracked door a sign to let those come and go as they please, even when you’re swamped and unable to give them your full attention. He smirks to himself, shakes his head and makes his way toward the door.

Unexpectedly, he doesn’t see you sitting at your desk. Instead, he catches you slumped against the couch, legs outstretched under the coffee table, head precariously slipping further and further toward the hardwood floor. The lamp from your desk is still burning, but the oil has nearly gone out and is struggling, just like it’s owner, at staying lit.

As if on cue, you slip away from the support of the couch but luck out at hitting the ground. Kaeya skillfully catches you with the use of his dash.

“Haha, that was close.” Kaeya laughs as he adjusts you in his arms, your body slumping further into him even as he slides his leg under your back to better support you. He pushes the coffee table away so your head doesn’t hit the corner but you can adjust comfortably into the bend of his arm. He finally settles, letting out a soft sigh at the intimate contact. “If I didn’t know any better,” he begins as he props up his leg next to your right side, “You waited until you could fall into my arms.” His tease makes him laugh but it doesn’t settle the pounding of his heart, nor the urge to run his electrified fingers your brow.

For a while, he watches you sleep. The steady movement of your chest, the rise and fall of your hands resting across it. He observes how relaxed your face is, how your lips are slightly parted and eyes rush back and forth under closed lids. He wonders what you’re dreaming. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hopes its of him.

“You just aren’t fair, are you.” Kaeya laments as he shakes his head and picks up one of the many sheets of paper you left on the table. You’re at rest against him, he feels priviliage to be that for you on this quiet evening. Of course, he’ll make sure you’ll find comfort on the couch, but not before he allows himself a reward for all his hard work tonight.

I guess there are some benefits to going on patrol.

tag list (broken tags)

@mercurysmaiden @dourpeep @musekala @mooshymello @plenilunegazes @glazelilyy @twokissesforamelia @smol-knife @aoirohi @nitorious-ghost @mguerra11 @ryekoo @zenith-impact @plumpkie @jaggedsi @salty-salty @onlyhereforinteractivestories @shy-specter @liebestraumss @anatthesavage @mkazuyuh @yujiia @cytomegalia @fvushiguros @yoshikuno @anonymousficreader @cyphermagic @akira-kiryu @linarizaki @lotsoffandomstoimagine @justfandomlover @thelightofmylife @1-800-beidou @alatuszc @jahnvi-d @shiinogi @taintedsorrcw @blushingskywalker @cherryflushz @lucy-roo @sufzku @uchihaeirin @hopebunnywrites @straymoon96 @sunny-star021 @x-zho @kaeyamonsoon @laragazzaspeciale @kaeyazuha @hadesgift @quitecharmed @axeybelle09 @jabamibug @axeybelle09 @scooterscoob @irethepotatosblog @silverwritesthings @kaedelove-blog1 @tomoora @boundedbyfate @cindoritos @goldenbbea @nya-vivi @furahisha @obeymemammoney @euph0ria-sp0ke @yuuki4646 @thunderslighthouse @kitsunekanojo @krussha @clemmywrites

#hazel work #genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #ayato x reader #ayato x gn reader #childe x reader #childe x gn reader #diluc x reader #diluc x gn reader #ayato fluff #childe fluff #diluc fluff #kaeya fluff

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vagabond-umlaut · 8 days

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HIIII KIT <333333 you said you were okay w selfship asks so!!!!! here i am :33

first of all >:3 i’m a sucker for the falls first/falls harder dynamic, so!!! in your selfships, who fell first and who fell harder?? 🎤🎤 or did you both fall at the same time??? i need to knowwww!!!

anddddd i also . love & adore….. sun/moon pairings……… 👉👈 so i’d love to know where your selfships fall on that scale too!!! :3 i get sun vibes from you but i could see moon too…. super curious to hear abt this one hehe

anyway!!!! ily kit <3333 i hope sukugo r treating you nicely!!!!! feral cat men smh…

AAAHHH ARIIi, TYTYTY FOR SENDING ME THESE QUESTIONS! I SERIOUSLY LOVE ANSWERING ASKS ON MY SELFSHIPS SM— i'm hugging u so very tightly rn *mwah mwah mwah* @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat

who fell first? who fell harder?

kitoru

honestly speaking, the lore of my ship w satoru changes w the seasons 🤭🤭 but acc to the information i hv as of summer 2024, i'm the one who fell first. and 'toru is the one who fell harder. i fell for him a very long time ago— back when i was in my mid teens and he was in his early twenties. but nothing romantic happened then– wtv hints i gave him either went over his head or he intentionally side-stepped them. and i js stopped giving him hints after one or two failed attempts, js staying happy with staring at him from afar, or yk, relishing wtv moments i used to get him as being one of his acquaintances... [he used to see me as a 'friend'. i nvr thought he cld see me as a 'friend', haha] but yk, when we grew up, i crossed quite some distance into my twenties and he too entered his late twenties— this is when the tectonic plates of our relationship slowly started shifting. i cld feel it, but i did not want to hope once again js to get heart-broken a second time— satoru, however, felt the shift like an earthquake. it's like, one moment he was thinking of me like he wld think of a friend, but then smthng happened, and he was like, "oh. this isn't how i think of shoko or nanami. oh. oh."— and well, let's js say, satoru was not rly in the mood for dating... he was more like, "omggg, ily! i'll take care of u! i'll make sure u hv a happy life! why don't we get married engaged, hm?" [i love my men a bit yandere 😂]

kitkuna

i think, mr. darcy's words fit sukuna and my dynamics the best 😄— “i was in the middle before i knew that i had begun.” we did not hv a very normal start to our relationship. sukuna js abducted me from my family and made me his queen. and i js became his queen and began to live in his temple or palace or fort or wtv. and yeah, we js started living together the way two ppl married as if for tax benefits start living together under the same roof. tht is it... except, tht doesn't stay tht is it for long. usually, i wld be content w some yummy food, interesting books, and nice comfy clothes— but over time, i began to notice i was feeling stuff other than js content. over time, this heavy feeling inside my chest began to grow lighter and i began to feel freer— and i realised, it was because of this freedom i was experiencing here. smthng i nvr got to experience when i was w my family— that place was rly good, yeah. i was treated rly well. but i felt more like ' a bird inside a golden cage' there. this observation changed my perception of sukuna from a housemate to smthng more amiable, perhaps smthng more affectionate, and i tried to get closer to him, inch by inch— actually millimetre by millimetre, 'cause i love to test the waters 1st then dip my toe into it— and then one fine day, when i wake up from an afternoon nap and i find sukuna sitting at the table, totally immersed in scrolls of poetry... an odd thing happens in my chest— which occurs again at dinner a few nights later... when i notice him eating as messily as ever— smthng which repeats when i catch him napping one day, akin a big cat lounging in the shade— a phenomenon which starts to happen multiple times a day very very soon... needless to say, i quickly diagnose it as a case of falling in love w my hubby 😌😌 as for sukuna... i don't rly think he feels love... he kidnapped me 'cause he was lwk intrigued by me. [idk why] he married me 'cause he grew highkey intrigued by me. [i still hv no idea why 😭😭] and he gave me space, never tried to be bad or scary to me 'cause he gave me some amt of respect as his wife, his queen [i nvr went to his court tho. i preferred drinking fruit juice and reading a good book in the shade of a tree] [were u able to guess i'm lazyyy] but then, one day, few weeks after i was able to extricate myself from my jumbled emotions and reach a definitive diagnosis— i found him snoozing under the same tree i take rest under, w a very amateurish book titled 'how do you know you are in love'— and i actually got rooted to the spot. and sukuna, heaven knows how, woke up while i was busy gaping at him. and he made an embarrassed face and dashed away— uraume later confirmed, their lord was feeling an odd thing in their chest; esp the last few weeks— roughly the same time as when i first encountered my symptom. later tht night, when i started subtly teasing him, calling us soulmates, he js put a blanket over my head to shut me up, but did not kill me— guess he loves me, huh 🤭🤭

who is the sun? who is the moon?

be it kitoru or kitkuna, i think i'm the moon, babes 😇😇 tho not a full moon. i'm more of a waxing crescent, methinks... 'cause i feel like i'm bright, but not bright enuf to light someone's path thru a forest at night... i js hv the potential, heh [i'm defo not the sun, babes 😅😅 i can be a lil grumpy and mean tbh, hahaha] satoru and sukuna, on the other hand... i think they are the sun in our dynamics. they can be both the comforting sun of chilly winter mornings, when i need them to be here for me, to hug me, to kiss me, to love me— and the scorching sun of a summer noon, ready to burn anyhting and everything which dares to bother me... [i love satoru and sukuna being a little crazy in their love for me 🥰🥰]

they're treating me pretty well so far, babes 🥰🥰🥰 and fr fr— feral cat men make me go insaneeee 😂😂😂

now i too wanna know ur answers to these same asks for ur selfships, my loveee 🤗🤗🤗 [no pressure tho!! only if u wanna ❤️❤️]

#sorry for such horribly long answers babes 😖😖😖#but i rly had sm fun thinking then replying to ur questions 😌😌#satoru's is a bit shorter 'cause i'm writing a series based on it atm #[my bad habit is to start new series insp by my kitoru lore hehe]#two things which i LOVE my men to be is very loyal and protective #okay three things.#3rd thing: they must be obsessed w me!!! [/just kidding 🤣🤣]#tysm once again for sending me this ask baby!! ilysm 💓💓💓💓#ask: ari 💙#kit's inbox 📧#satoru 💞 kit #sukuna 💞 kit

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i-eat-nail-polish · 4 months

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Hey I’m gonna probably post more serious stuff because I need to have discussions with people about Palestine. For one I live in an area and am surrounded by people who aren’t pro Palestinian. They don’t take anything surround boycotts or information in general about the genocide serious at all because it doesnt effect them. It’s starting to wear on me because there’s no one to cope (idk if that’s the right word) with what I see online on a daily basis. Ever since mid October or so? (When the tik tok algorithm caught up with the time) I’ve seen countless atrocities that I’ve only ever seen in video games or movies played out in real life against real people. I learned what real bombs sound like both far away and up close because of these videos. Lately I’ve also started to dream about being trapped in Gaza with that feeling of death looming. It sounds dramatic but it’s true. Every day I’m thankful that I’m constantly shown information about Palestine and surrounding Arab countries and I’m also in shock. I’m in shock for a few reasons. 1: I’ve watched for months now, a country, a land and it’s people go through something worse than hell and nobody around feels the same sadness and basic human empathy. No one cares to take in that there’s a massive loss of life and culture and future for whatever reason. It’s gut renching to think about it. 2: I can’t help beyond witnessing and documenting. It seems stupid and corny to think that we’re privileged to have phones but documenting this horrible event through a phone camera is so incredible for history. It just feels almost insulting that that’s all I can do as a poor college student in America. Yes, I can call my representatives which thankfully where I live do support a free and liberated Palestine, but others won’t even do much as think about their constituents. It’s hard because it feels like we’re trying to move a volcano with plastic beach shovels. So all we can do is sit and save videos before social media giants take them down. 3: coming to terms that nobody looks out for each other on a large scale. Because I follow now many journalists from various sectors ranging from on the ground in Gaza to political scientists giving me lessons on the United Nations history, I’m shocked at how all of it is fake. Nothing makes sense anymore. You’re telling me because 2 countries won’t vote on a ceasefire but 98% do we can’t move on with it? Why does the US get privileges that to my limited knowledge no one else has the same power leverage as. How has nobody else stepped in when MANY war crimes are being committed. Why do they even exist if countries are never seriously prosecuted? Why even have rules if you can’t follow them? It’s disheartening to watch but I can’t give up hope. I’m not giving up hope because that’s all we have. I may not have direct ties to Palestine but as if needless suffering is enough for me to care, I care especially for the queer family in Gaza. They are as much apart of the queer family as my roommates are. I don’t know if and when we lose LGBTQ+ people in Gaza but I know it’s happening so I cry for the loss of our family. I need to see an end to this. I need to. I don’t know how to process any of what I’ve witnessed or feel right now or even what else I can do to help stop a genocide. I need to talk to people so please may you strike up conversation. Correct me in any place, tell me about the latest boycotts, show me protests. Please converse we have to keep hope alive.

#palestine #free palestine #free gaza #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #pro palestine #🍉#activism #coping #long post #alhamdulillah #inshallah #palestine will be free #free palestine until its backwards #gaza #gaza genocide #genuinely asking #please help #boycott divest sanction

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btsmfanfics · 2 months

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Devil's Advocate - Chapter 1

Pairing: Taehyung x reader Pastor's Daughter/Delinquent college AU

Summary:

Your father has always instilled in you the ideas of what a good, God-fearing woman should be. Humble. Steadfast. Pure. A beacon for lost souls. You knew that going to a secular university would bring temptations, but you were adamant that you would not stray from the path.

That is, until your father had you witness to campus delinquent Kim Taehyung. Charming and devilishly charismatic, Taehyung makes you question everything you thought you knew about what a “good” woman should be.

If you missed the prologue it's here.

Masterlist

Rating: Mature Warnings: Mentions of drinking, sex, drugs, partying, etc. Nothing major in this chapter. Future smut. ________________

Chapter 1:

“Why would someone do something like that?” you asked, staring down at the picture on your phone. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” you dad’s voice crackled through the speaker. “I can only guess that he’s clearly lost and hurting.” You stared once again at the photo displayed across your screen. A black, horned figure stared back at you with the letters HAIL SATA scrawled in red underneath. At least they didn’t finish the last word. Could someone go to Hell for saying that? You weren’t sure. It made you uncomfortable though.

You didn’t like to think about anyone going to Hell. Suffering for eternity with no way out? A lifetime of being burned alive? Your throat started to close up and you knew you had to stop thinking about it too much or you would have an anxiety attack. That happened sometimes when you thought about Hell too much. It’s why you always tried to make sure you were on the right side of the Bible.

“Do they know who did it?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Caught him trying to scale a fence. The paint on his forefinger matched the colors on the wall. He spent the night in custody. They’re asking if I want to press charges.”

“Do you?” you asked.

“Well, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I’d like to negotiate his sentence. Some community service would do him some good, don’t you think?” “I suppose,” you mentioned, not sure where your dad was going with this. “I need you to monitor it.”

“Monitor what?” you said, not quite putting two and two together.

“The community service. Are you listening?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, shaking your head rid of the thoughts that had crept in. You’d started thinking about Hell again. “Why me?” you asked. “Because I trust you,” he said. You groaned internally. “I need you to witness to this boy. He’s a lost soul and needs to be brought to the Lord. It’s only for a few weeks. Saturday mornings from eight to noon. I know you can do that.”

You sighed. Your father always did this. You were tired of the guilt trips, but they still worked every time. Besides, what’s more important to you? Sleeping in on Saturdays or someone’s eternal fate? You were being selfish. “Fine, but I want a leadership role at the youth center this year.”

“Done. I’ll call you later with more details. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You slumped forward. There goes the rest of your Saturday mornings. They were the only day out of the week you actually got to sleep in, since you had Church every Sunday morning.

At least you’d be working closely with Noah during the week. You melted a little even thinking about him.

He was the praise and worship leader for the campus youth group, and the most attractive man you’d ever seen. You’d kissed last summer during a game of truth or dare among the rest of the staff at the summer camp, but haven’t made progress on that front since.

You sighed and fell back into bed, acknowledging that this was likely your only opportunity to sleep in for a while, allowing your thoughts to stay on Noah and go as far as you could before it turned to lust (a sin).

----

The chilly mid-October wind sent shivers coursing through you. Three weeks had passed since your dad had informed you that you’d be conducting community service. It was 7:56 AM and you were standing, clipboard in hand, next to the marred wall of the youth center, waiting for the delinquents to show up.

Delinquents, plural. Apparently, they caught the guy’s accomplice with the help of security footage.

“Excuse me, am I in the right place?”

You looked up from the clipboard to see a young man with a friendly smile.

“Name?” you asked.

“Park Jimin,” he answered. You looked down at your clipboard and wrote the time next to his name.

Park Jimin had swishy blonde hair that partially obscured his forehead. He’d ran his hands through it three different times since introducing himself, so it was messy on top, but in a way that let you know that he knew it was attractive. He didn’t look much like a delinquent. At least not the kind you’d pictured in your head.

You weren’t sure what exactly you were expecting. Tattoos? Shabby clothes? Piercings? Jimin had piercings, but only on his ears, which was fairly normal these days. Even Noah had pierced ears.

Jimin wore a pair of black jeans with a black hoodie and a denim jacket overtop. So okay, maybe he could fit the role of “delinquent” but you wouldn’t guess it just by meeting him once.

“Good. Okay yes, you’re in the right place. Do you know where the other guy is?” you asked.

“Taehyung? Not sure. He should be here soon though. He knew we had this today.” It was 7:59. You had to report him to your father if he wasn’t there by 8:00. You sighed. Was it so hard for people to be on time? You arrived to everything at least five minutes early and had no problem with it. It irked you whenever people blatantly disregarded rules, but you supposed you could have expected so much from someone who vandalizes houses of worship for fun. In your mind, that was just mean.

Your father characterized him as someone who was just sad and hurting. And maybe he was, but really, he was just a jerk.

When he still hadn’t arrived at 8:10, you realized he probably wasn’t going to and determined that there was no sense wasting time.

“Okay Jimin. You see the buckets and sponges over there? Grab a sponge and start scrubbing.”

“Aye,” he answered and walked off. He was much more chipper than you’d have expected for a criminal. But then again, Jesus hung out with criminals, so they couldn’t be all bad.

You didn’t talk much. Jimin got to work quickly and you observed, not knowing what else to do. A semi-awkward silence fell between the two of you and you busied yourself flipping through the pages on your clipboard.

It had all the rules and regulations you needed to follow, as well as the schedule for the next twelve weeks. Jimin and Taehyung were to report to each location by 8:00 AM sharp. Failure to do so would mean another week of community service tacked on to the end of the program. They could potentially shorten their sentence if they demonstrated punctuality and good behavior, but not before they’d scrubbed and painted the wall they’d vandalized.

You’d read through all the instructions several times, yet you still had a feeling you were underprepared for this. Were you really just supposed to watch them? Or were you supposed to help them, too? You deliberated for a while until a deep voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“I’m here for my community service?”

You were greeted by a mop of messy black hair hiding a pair of dark, indifferent eyes. He wore a black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up and matching black jeans with rips on the knees. He wasn’t dressed all too different than his counterpart Jimin, but something about the way he carried himself made you suspect that he wasn’t all too concerned with other people’s feelings. “Taehyung?” you asked. He nodded. You checked the time. 8:42.

“You’re forty-two minutes late,” you said. He blinked, but didn’t respond any further. “Which means I’ll have to report this.”

He shrugged. “So report it.”

You were a bit taken aback by his attitude. It was a stark contrast to Jimin’s friendliness. But then again, you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting.

“Well, grab a sponge and get to work, I guess.”

He did exactly that, wordlessly taking his place beside his accomplice. Together they scrubbed, not making much progress overall. It took them the entire session to reach a state where some of the graffiti could be painted over. That would have to wait for next week, though.

“That’s all the time we have for this session,” you said once it had reached noon. “See you next week.” Without even saying bye or offering to help clean up the supplies, Taehyung dropped his sponge and walked away. Jimin was a little kinder, telling you he’d see you next week and placing his sponge back in the bucket.

“So that’s how it’s going to be,” you muttered to yourself, and got to work cleaning up the supplies.

----

“So what was it like?” your friend Ava asked.

You shrugged in response. “ I don’t know. They’re delinquents,” you said. “One of them was fine, I guess. The other was a bit of a jerk. But it was just kind of boring, really. They didn’t talk much. I just kind of watched them work.”

“A jerk how?” she asked. You could tell she was desperate for more information. She’d been hoping to hear an exciting story about how “bad kids” acted, and you got where she was coming from. You’d always been curious, too.

The church elders (your parents included) had always warned you about who to befriend and who to stay away from. These bad kids who go out drinking every night and get themselves into bad situations. In their stories, they always end up addicted to drugs and feeling lost with God in their lives. These were the people who needed to be witnessed to. But how were you supposed to tell them about God if you were supposed to avoid them? It was all very confusing to you.

Both Ava and you had grown up entirely within the church community. Both of you had gone to private school, and while there were definitely some people there who were more misbehaved than the two of you, there were no real bad kids.

The biggest scandal you’d seen is when you found out Jason Carver had sex with his girlfriend. Which, admittedly, was a pretty big scandal because you were under the impression that everyone in that school had taken their purity vows seriously.

You couldn’t fathom what possessed Jason to commit such an outright sin. You were sure Jesus would forgive him, but seriously. What was he thinking?

Although the boys hadn’t been given quite as many purity talks as the girls had. Each of the girls in the school were given a silver ring called a “promise ring” signifying your promise to stay pure until marriage. There was a whole big ceremony, too. Getting your promise ring was a huge deal in school. It was basically a coming-of-age ceremony.

You fiddled with the silver ring still on your finger. Ava had a matching one. You two had also made a friend pact where you’d both stay virgins until marriage. Though you weren’t sure how that would work out, because both of you had plans to marry Noah and both of you were stubborn enough to hold out for him.

Regardless, the church community was pretty close-knit, and neither of you had interacted much with people who didn’t follow the same code of conduct. You could tell Ava was fascinated by the idea but so far, nothing too exciting had happened.

“Both of them drink alcohol though,” you mentioned. “I overheard them talking about a party they’d gone to the previous Friday, and Taehyung had mentioned he was really hungover and that’s why he’d woken up late.” He said this only to Jimin, not to you.

“Wow. I wonder what that’s like.”

“Ava!” You scolded.

“Oh, whatever. Jesus himself drank wine,” and you just shrugged, because you didn’t have an argument for that. She was right. You supposed drinking didn’t go against the Bible. Just the rules your parents had laid out for you.

“Come on, we’re going to be late to practice,” she said. “Maybe we’ll get to see Noah.”

You picked up your pace.

----

Noah was indeed there, looking very Jesus-like with his long hair in a bun on top of his head and his scruffy face. You supposed that might have been what drew you to him in the first place. He wore loose-fitting jeans slung low on his waist, a pair of Birkenstock sandals, and a plain white V-neck tight across his chest. He had a silver cross necklace that matched the silver purity ring.

Noah was impossible not to fall for. He played guitar in the worship band, had the voice of an angel, and really practiced what he preached. So much so that it had been him to stop your kiss from progressing last summer, saying he didn’t want to do anything with you that either of you would regret.

A man who protects your purity rather than challenges it? What could be hotter?

“Okay, let’s run through ‘He Reigns’ again,” said Noah, and he began to strum out the opening lines. Ava was on keys, Darian was on drums, and Josh played bass. You and Noah sang.

It’s the song of the redeemed

Rising from the African plain.

It’s the song of the forgiven

Drowning out the Amazon rain.

You launched into a harmony with Noah. This was one of your all-time favorite worship songs. You loved harmonizing with him. Your voices blended together so perfectly that the act felt almost intimate. Sometimes you’d hit a really beautiful note and you and Noah would lock eyes and it felt like you were singing to each other.

Every night before bed, you prayed that God would bring the two of you together. And perhaps if you were good enough, he would answer those prayers, so you also prayed that He would be with you to help you not sin as much. Anything to improve your chances.

-----

Taehyung was not thinking about his community service tomorrow. Six beers deep, he was only thinking of how he could see Madison Lewis’s nipples through her silky white shirt and that he’d like to wrap his lips around them if he could.

Madison hasn’t let him hit it in a while. Not that he was desperate. He’s had plenty of women since her, and will have plenty of women in the future. But she was always a particularly good fuck. Something about how unashamedly loud she moaned his name—especially when there were people just outside the bedroom door—really sent him.

She’d been making eyes at him all night, and he had a feeling tonight would be his chance if he played his cards right.

He kept his distance from her. She liked to play hard to get but didn’t want someone that simped for her too hard. He’d have to find his moment. If he knew her well enough, she’d get tired of the charade and present an opening to him, and then he’d move in for the kill.

That’s what set Madison apart. Taehyung was a hunter. He had no problem getting laid on a regular basis, but most women made it too easy. He barely had to show them attention for them to be practically throwing themselves at him. A good fuck is a good fuck, but he preferred a challenge.

Not that she would be super challenging, but at least she understood the game. Fucking her was like playing chess. There was strategy involved and she knew how to hold her own. The better he played, the more rewarding she’d be. She was reliable in that way.

Plus, she was one of the only women who knew what it was. She didn’t linger. She got in and got out without trying to pretend it was something it wasn’t—or worse, trying to force it into something it was never meant to be.

Too many times, he’d bang a girl who had played it cool with him at first, only to get obsessed and practically stalk him afterwards until he was forced to tell her he wasn’t interested. Whoever it was would cry and make him out to be the asshole, when he had been up-front about what he wanted from the beginning. For some reason, they always believe they were going to be the one to change him. They never were.

And okay, he might be an asshole in the fact that he always knows which of them will get clingy. By now, he’s had enough experience to tell. They come on too strong. They give him too many openings, worrying that he somehow didn’t understand what they were trying to communicate if he responded the first time. He got the hint. He just wasn’t interested.

At least he wasn’t interested if there were still other options available. If he got to the end of the night and all the good options had been taken, he’d throw them a bone and give them a good time, fully knowing that he was in for a week or two of headaches after they realized that he wasn’t going to suddenly fall in love.

Madison caught his eye and gave him a once-over. He was in. She turned to climb the stairs, exaggerating the sway of her hips as she walked and he followed, taking one last swig of his drink before setting it down on a nearby table and following her up.

----

“Any idea where he is?” you asked Jimin.

It was 8:07 and Taehyung still hadn’t shown up yet. Jimin shrugged. “I was with him at Jungkook’s party last night, but he disappeared and didn’t come back to our place. My guess is with Madison.” “I don’t know any of those people,” you said.

Jimin laughed, showing a charmingly crooked front tooth. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”

“Why is he going out partying if he knows he has community service in the morning?” you asked.

Jimin chuckled as he pried the lid off the paint can. “I’m guessing you don’t get out much.”

“What do you mean by that?” you asked.

“Have you been to a party before?”

“Sure.”

“I mean one with alcohol,” he deadpanned. You blushed. “That’s what I thought.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because if you’ve been to a party, you’d understand why we go even if we have to get up early. That’s the fun of it. You get drunk. You hook up. You meet new people and you suffer the consequences because that’s what life is about.”

“Life is about more than just partying.”

“Something tells me you could use a bit of fun,” he replied.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said, offended.

“Nothing,” he said, now pouring the paint into the tray and swiping his blonde hair across his face. “Just that you seem a little uptight is all.”

You wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but you didn’t want to prove him right by getting upset about it, so you said nothing.

Jimin sighed. “Look, I didn’t mean for this to become a whole thing. I was just teasing.”

“I’m not upset,” you said, albeit defensively.

“Clearly.”

You sat with his comment for a moment.

“I have fun,” you said.

Jimin smiled to himself. “I’m sure you have plenty of fun.”

“I do!” you protested. “Just not the kind of fun that ends up in having to do a semester of community service.”

He chuckled again, the smile not once having left his face.

“Say what you want, but you and I are both roped into this for the next eleven weeks.”

You didn’t have a response to that.

“Sorry I’m late,” you heard from behind you. You looked up and saw Taehyung panting. “In my defense I didn’t know that being late meant serving more time.”

“You just thought there wouldn’t be consequences?” you asked. He shrugged, removing his hood. A deep purple bruise had appeared on the side of his neck.

“Shit,” said Jimin and gave a low whistle. “Madison?”

Taehyung grinned and nodded.

“Good for you, man.”

“I’ll remind you that we’re on church grounds. Please watch your language,” you said.

Taehyung and Jimin shared a look that you knew was meant to mock you, but you were adamant. They could behave however they wanted on the own time, but this was your time.

“We were just talking about how Saint Mary over here could use a little fun,” said Jimin as he handed Taehyung a paint roller.

“Ha, ha,” you said sarcastically. “My name isn’t Mary.”

“Might as well be,” said Jimin.

At that Taehyung snickered. “Why does he think you could use more fun?” asked Taehyung.

“He’s judging me because I’ve never been to a drinking party.”

“A drinking party?” asked Taehyung. “Did you hear that, Jimin? A drinking party!” he said, clutching at his chest in mock scandalization.

“Again, you are literally both serving community service right now. I don’t think you’re the right judge for what kind of fun I should be having.”

Taehyung didn’t speak for a second, then held out his hand for you to shake. “Alright, I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks,” you said, shaking his hand.

“So do you actually attend this church?” he said.

“Every Sunday,” you said. “And by the way, thanks for vandalizing it. Not like it’s an important place to me or anything.”

“I stand by what I did,” said Taehyung.

“Sorry Mary,” said Jimin. “Won’t do it again.”

“Again, my name isn’t Mary. And don’t think I’m going to let you off easily. It’s because of you two that I’m roped into doing this for the next however many weeks.”

“Why’d you get stuck with this? They aren’t paying you?”

“No,” you replied, pointing to the wall to refocus them on the task at hand. They picked up on the hint and started working again. “My dad’s the pastor at the church that sponsors this youth center.”

“Oh,” said Taehyung, eyebrows disappearing up under his fringe. His expression turned unreadable. “So you’re a pastor’s daughter?”

“Tae,” Jimin said, soft but stern. They shared a look you couldn’t decipher and you sensed the tone of the conversation had shifted to one you weren’t familiar with. Jimin looked serious. You couldn’t determine what expression was on Taehyung’s face. Something hung in the air between the two of you and you had a sneaking suspicion you weren’t going to like it.

-----

“A pastor’s daughter!” Taehyung repeated when they got back to their shared apartment.

“Don’t even think about it,” said Jimin.

“A pastor’s daughter, though.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Whyyyyy?” Taehyung whined.

“For one, I have to spend the next ten weeks with her. So if you fuck her over, guess who has to hear about it? Me. And second of all, you could never. That chick is so prude she wouldn’t open her legs for Jesus himself.”

Taehyung laughed at the imagery. “She’s kind of cute though, in a mousy, goody-two-shoes, kind of way.”

“Taehyung, I am begging you. Do not make this some sort of mission to bed her. There are enough prude women out there that offer whatever kind of challenge you’re looking for. Leave this one alone.”

But Taehyung had already started fantasizing about what you looked like under your high-necked sweater. Not only would this be a major challenge for him, it would be the ultimate fuck-you to the church. Sleeping with the pastor’s daughter? Taking her virginity? Corrupting the innocent? How could he say no to that?

And beyond that, he actually had some level of sympathy for you. Clearly you were raised in a household where you had to subscribe to that shit. You probably never even questioned your devotion to this made-up religion. You’d never been to a party. You definitely had never gone past first base with anyone. You lived life with such rigidity and fear of wrongdoing that you probably never let yourself stray from that tightrope.

All that pent-up self-control? He could only imagine what the release of it would be like.

In his mind, he’d be doing you a disservice by not exposing you to the other side.

-----

“I want to go to a drinking party,” Ava whined.

“Are you serious?”

“What? It sounds like fun. We don’t have to drink. We could just go and have a good time and stay sober.”

“Am I the only one who doesn’t want to risk getting an underage?” The two of you were headed to the World History class you shared on Mondays. She’d been prying you for more information on “the bad boys” as she called them. “And you really want to come home smelling like weed and booze and whatever else happens at those parties?”

“Sex?”

“Ava!”

“I just want to know what life is like on the other side is all.”

You sighed. “We don’t need to know what it’s like on the other side. It’s probably just a bunch of idiots getting sloppy drunk and grinding on each other.”

Ava laughed. “You’re so judgy! God won’t send us to Hell for attending one party.”

“I know,” you said, though your throat tightened infinitesimally at the mention of it, because really, who could know for sure? God could be testing you.

“Just promise me, if they invite you to one, you’ll bring me along?”

You laughed. “I doubt they’ll invite me to one. They seem like they already have all the friends they want.”

“You never know!” she said.

“True.”

Part of you was also curious about what happened at these parties that made them so fun that Taehyung and Jimin still went even when they had to get up early, but another part of you wondered if this was His way of testing your commitment to determine if you were worthy of Noah.

If it was a test, what would you need to do to pass?

-----

“You’re on time,” you said.

“Yeah, who’d have thought?” Taehyung replied. It was 7:48, and he had gone home early from Jungkook’s party last night, without a girl in tow, in order to get ready for his community service.

“Is Jimin with you?” you asked.

“He should be here soon. He was showering when I left.”

“Okay. Well, I guess we should get back to work.” Painting was finished last week, so this week, Jimin and Taehyung were to rake the leaves that had fallen on the ground and in the parking lot. Taehyung got to work immediately and without complaint.

“How was your weekend?” he asked.

“It was good. Yours?”

“Good, good. Tried taking some of your advice and left the party early last night. Didn’t even get that drunk.”

Had you misjudged Taehyung? He had seemed so cold to you at first, but he’d already become much friendlier than he had been that first week.

You laughed. “Already turning over a new leaf, huh? I knew you’d see the light.”

“Something like that,” he said. “Did you go to church?”

You had a feeling there was something hiding behind that question, but you decided to entertain him.

“I did. Why?”

He shrugged, continuing to watch himself work rather than look at you while he spoke. “No reason.”

“Okay then,” you said, guarded.

“Do you go every week?” he asked after a few more moments.

“I do.”

“And do you like it?” he asked.

“Why are you asking all these questions? You thinking of giving your life to God?” You meant it to be teasing, but it came out more bitter than you intended.

He smiled to himself. “Just curious as to what you get from it. Why you’re so devoted.”

“It’s not all rules and restrictions, you know,” you said, feeling yourself growing more defensive. “It can actually be kind of fun, and pretty meaningful too.”

“If you say so,” he said. “I just don’t see the fun in being told how to live.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” you said. “I like having some guidelines to live by.”

He simply shrugged and went back to raking. You fell into an uncomfortable silence.

“It’s not like that all the time,” you continued after a while, watching him rake leaves into a modest pile. “There’s a lot of encouragement. And it can be really rewarding to devote yourself to a greater cause.”

“Seems like a cult to me.”

“It’s not a cult.”

You’d heard the arguments from people before, especially online. Every Atheist you’ve ever talked to does this same dance. They are upset that you believe in something they don’t like, and react by trying to disprove God. Each of them brings up their own version of the same argument, all thinking that they, in their brilliance, have somehow got it all figured out and can change your opinion. They never can.

Newsflash, nobody in the history of forever has ever been able to prove or disprove the existence of God. You either believe or you don’t. And you believed.

“I just can’t get over the whole sex thing,” he said after a while.

It took you a few moments to register what he had said. When you did, you inhaled sharply through your nose. Nobody in your social circle ever talked about sex openly, aside from saying how they wouldn’t have sex before marriage. You sensed this conversation could be a dangerous one, but he had your curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you’re not allowed to have sex, right?”

“Not until marriage,” you said.

“How do you live like that? I could never.”

On the surface level, there was a part of you that was aware that most people in the secular world did not actually wait for marriage, but because you’d been mostly confined to your immediate social circle, you hadn’t actually conversed with someone who was so openly comfortable with talking about sex. You were both intrigued and so far out of your comfort zone that you struggled to keep up.

“I avoid tempting situations,” you said, noticing it was more difficult now to hide the smile that insisted on growing. You liked this topic, you realized. And that scared you enough that you couldn’t look him in the eye and instead opted for staring at a spot on the ground.

“How do you not get into tempting situations?”

“I don’t know. I just…don’t?”

This seemed to spark something in Taehyung. “Do you just…not think about it? What happens when you’re talking to an attractive guy?”

“What do you mean? I just talk. I mean sure, I might get giddy or nervous, but I don’t like…I don’t know,” you trailed off. “What happens to you when you talk to an attractive woman?”

“I honestly don’t know if I should tell you, sweet child. It might be too much for your virgin ears.”

“Gross,” you said.

Taehyung threw his head back into a big belly laugh. “I can’t help it! I love women. They’re so beautiful and…just…sexy.” He said this while drawing a set of hourglass curves with his hands.

“Okay, but can’t you admire them without lusting?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. That’s asking me not to breathe. What’s the point? I’m not interested in being a masochist.”

You leaned against the brick building and crossed your arms, sizing him up.

“You’re not afraid of the consequences?”

He faced you, leaning on his rake. “Consequences? Like STDs or pregnancy? I’m not an idiot. I use protection.”

“No, I mean. Like. Aren’t you afraid of going to Hell?”

“Hell?” he asked, bewildered. “You believe in that?”

You looked at him, wide-eyed. “Yeah,” you answered. “Don’t you?”

“No!” he said. “I always thought it was something that adults made up to scare children into behaving.”

“It could be real.”

“Doubt it,” he said. “And if it was, I think it would take a lot more than a few fucks to wind up there. That being said,” he shrugged, and went back to raking, “a life without sex seems pretty hellish to me.”

“What’d I miss?” It was Jimin, out of breath from having jogged to where you were. You looked at your watch. 8:05.

“Nothing. You’re late.”

“Sorry,” he said with his Cheshire cat-like grin. You imagined this grin has gotten him out of trouble numerous times.

“Better get to work,” you said. He nodded and went to grab a rake. You thought about not reporting his tardiness, but ultimately decided that consequences were probably what these boys needed more than anything.

-----

“Ladies and gentlemen, there is a war going on. And it’s not a war of the physical realm. No, it’s a war for the soul of the world,” Pastor Jeremy said, in his stern but somber preacher voice.

This was a common theme for sermons. How there is a constant and ongoing battle for the soul of the world, and how Satan and his army are using every tool in their belt to corrupt the hearts of the innocent.

“It is our job,” he continued, “to make sure the devil doesn’t win.”

A message of evangelism. According to many pastors, it was each of our responsibility to save the souls of everyone else. Church goers do this through all sorts of methods. Missions trips were popular. You’d been on one to Guatemala when you were in high school. A group of students went down to build schools and teach other kids about the gospel.

But lately something had been bugging you about this kind of message. Because what if Taehyung was right, and Hell didn’t exist? What if it was just something adults told to children to scare them into behaving?

And furthermore, did that mean that your faith was only present because you were afraid of going to Hell? What would your relationship with God look like if you didn’t fear that fate? Would you have one at all?

These questions weighed on you heavily.

“Hey,” said Noah, nudging you with his elbow. The sermon had ended, and you’d gotten up and started walking out along with everyone else without fully realizing what you were doing. You, Noah, and a few other students from the campus ministry usually went out for lunch after church on Sundays.

“Hey,” you said, falling into stride with him as he walked into the foyer.

“What’s up?” he asked. “You seemed a little distracted today.”

It was odd of Noah to comment on your demeanor. You weren’t used to him paying enough attention to you to mention anything.

“Oh. Maybe I was. I didn’t notice.”

He put his hands in his front pockets and leaned his weight on one hip. He looked good in this pose, and it was possible he knew that.

“Anything on your mind?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Not that I can think of.”

Noah seemed to notice the difference in your mood. Normally, you’d be the one asking him all the questions in an attempt to connect.

“I know what it is,” said Ava, sidling up to the two of you, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Or should I say who.”

“Ava,” you warned.

“Who?” asked Noah, his interest piqued.

You sighed in frustration. Ava, for as good of a friend she was, loved involving herself in drama and jumped at the chance to involve everyone else, too.

“Oh, just a certain delinquent,” she said in a teasing lilt.

You didn’t know why you even told Ava about the conversation you’d had with Taehyung. You’d like to think she wouldn’t use that information to her advantage, but she hadn’t always been the most reliable friend. Truly, she was as much a friend because of circumstance as she was a friend because you shared any solid connection.

Few people understood what it was like to grow up in a church and be sent to a Christian school. Your graduating class only had fifteen people. You connected with Ava the most out of everyone, but that didn’t mean you trusted her very much.

And you were right to be hesitant, considering she was currently repeating your private conversation to Noah simply to gain his attention.

“Is that so?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “And who is this delinquent?”

“You’ll have to ask her dad about that one.”

“I’m not listening to this,” you said. “I have sleep I need to catch up on. I’ll see you guys later.”

Truthfully, it was just an excuse to get away from them and clear your head. As much as you usually craved opportunities to spend time with Noah, you were not feeling it today.

Ava was right. You were distracted because of a certain delinquent, and you couldn’t pretend that you weren’t. There was just something about him you couldn’t get out of your head.

Perhaps this was Jesus telling you that you needed to spend more time with him. Perhaps maybe you’d be the one to guide him towards the light?

On the other hand, it could be temptation from the enemy. In which case, you needed to guard your heart.

The only way to know for sure was to pray about it, which you had been doing in earnest, but there was still no clear answer in front of you.

-----

“So I have a theory,” Taehyung said softly as he took a break from vacuuming the carpet of the worship center. Jimin was across the room, headphones in and head bobbing as he dusted the backs of the chairs.

“And what is that?”

“Okay, so it’s possible that you magically just have an inhuman amount of self-control, and I’m not saying it’s impossible, but I’m willing to bet that it’s more likely you just haven’t been tested.”

“Taehyung, what are you talking about?” you asked.

He placed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Our conversation last week,” he said.

“Okay, and?”

“You say it’s not hard for you to avoid tempting situations, but I imagine you probably don’t get into many with the crowd you run with. Like, have you ever even kissed a guy?”

“Why is that any of your business?” you said.

He took the tiniest side-step closer to you. “Just making conversation.”

You took a deep breath, trying to decide whether or not to play whatever his game was. On the one hand, it really wasn’t any of his business. That being said, you were interested to see where he was going to go with this.

“Okay, I’ll bite. I have kissed before.”

“One of the church guys?” he asked, shifting his body to face you more.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “At summer camp last year.”

“Who initiated?”

“He did, but we’d been flirting all summer before then.” “And when was this? What happened? Paint me a verbal picture.” Taehyung was visibly interested, shifting his weight from converse-clad foot to converse-clad foot as he looked at you expectantly. You had to admit that it was kind of cute.

“It was late August,” you said. “Like I said, he and I had been flirting all summer. It was the last night of camp, and all of the counselors were having an end-of-year party.”

“You were a counselor? Oh man, this is too good.”

“What does me being a counselor have anything to do with it?” you asked.

“Nothing. Keep going.”

You rolled your eyes, thinking that you might not even want to know the reason. “So anyway, we take a walk down to the beach. The sun had already set by that point and it was a new moon, so we could barely see anything. We get down to the beach and decide to go for a nighttime swim.”

“Oh, damn,” he said.

“Language,” you said. “We are in a house of God.”

He made the sign of the cross and put his hands together in mock prayer. “Forgive me. Go on.”

You had to admit, it felt good to have someone hanging on your every word like this, even if his motives were less than ideal.

“Okay. So don’t get too excited. We were still wearing our bathing suits under our clothes from the beach game tournament we’d had with the campers earlier that day. But we get in the water, and he’s like ‘where are you?’ because we couldn’t see anything, and I reached out my hand. He took it and pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. Then he said he really enjoyed hanging out with me this summer and asked if he could kiss me.”

“He asked? Ugh.” He scoffed.

“What’s wrong with that? It was sweet. He respected me.”

“It was weak,” Taehyung said. “No wonder nothing else happened.”

“What do you mean by that?” you said, crossing your arms. You had appreciated that Noah cared about getting consent before he kissed you.

“I don’t know how to explain this concept,” he said, resting his hand on his chin, “but it’s like, a guy who asks to kiss a woman is kind of a coward. When you really want to kiss someone, you just do it and risk getting shot down.”

“I don’t know about that,” you said. “I always thought it was like, a sign that a guy respects you.”

“Nuh-uh,” he said. “It means he’s afraid of rejection. A guy who respects you reads your body language. He’d know whether or not you want to kiss him because he’d pay attention to how you’re acting. You wouldn’t have to spell it out for him.”

“Huh,” you said, processing what he had said. You’d never considered it like that before, but looking back, you had put in a lot of work dropping hints to Noah, going as far as to make it obvious that you were into him.

“How was the kiss?” he said.

“It was nice.”

Taehyung slapped his thigh and barked out a laugh.

“So it sucked.”

“What? No! It was really nice.”

“Trust me,” he said. “If it would have been a good kiss, you wouldn’t describe it as ‘nice.’”

“I don’t know if I agree with you,” you said. “I think a kiss can just be nice sometimes.”

“Yeah, if you’re an old married couple maybe. But it just goes to show that you’ve never actually been properly kissed. And that you don’t know true temptation.”

“I don’t think I like this conversation anymore,” you said. “It feels like you’re making fun of me.”

“I might be, just a little bit,” he said. You bristled. “And I’m sorry,” he finished. “I don’t mean to be making fun of you. I just think you’re missing out on some really important life experiences. And frankly, it’s a shame that the men in your life have failed you so terribly.”

You softened a bit. “I don’t like being mocked. This is something I’m sensitive about. Truthfully, I did wish the kiss would have been a little bit more…I don’t know,” you trailed off.

“Passionate?” he offered.

“Yeah. I’d dreamed my whole life of my first kiss, and when it finally happened, it was exciting because it was Noah, but—,”

He perked up. “Noah?”

You hadn’t meant to say his name.

“Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Does Noah go here?” he asked.

“Taehyung, please. I don’t want any drama.”

“I promise I won’t say anything. I’m just curious.”

“I’m not telling you anything else about him,” you said. “All you need to know is that he kissed me. It was okay. And then he stopped because he didn’t want to get tempted.”

Taehyung made a face when you said that last part, and you knew there was something behind it, but you didn’t want to ask. He would just make fun of you again, you were sure.

“All done!” called Jimin from across the room. “Want me to start on the windows?” he asked.

“That would be great, actually,” you called over. “Take Taehyung with you.”

Jimin gave you a thumbs up. Taehyung shifted his weight again, looking like he wanted to say something else, but you nodded towards Jimin to signal that he should get back to work. He got the hint and left you alone with your thoughts.

You sat on the steps leading up to the alter and crossed your arms over your knees, resting your chin on them.

You were disappointed in the kiss, you realized. Taehyung was right, and you hadn’t even noticed until now. After that night, you and Noah hadn’t spoken about it again. It was as if it had never happened.

You had always surmised you were just better at self-control than your secular peers, but what if that wasn’t true? What if Taehyung was right about the rest too, and you were missing out on all these important experiences?

You supposed that was a good thing. After all, it could get you in a lot of trouble and lead you down a bad road. But then again, how were you supposed to resist temptation in the future if you had no experience with it? What would happen when something came along that did tempt you? How would you handle it?

Did you even want to know?

____ Author's note:

I'm Baaaaaaaaaack!

#taehyung x reader #Taehyung x you #Kim taehyung #bts college au #bts fanfiction

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morrak · 7 months

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Untitled Wednesday Library Series, Part 129

Last week was supposed to feature a(nother) philosophy of information science-flavored thingy. Come to think of it, so was the week before that. In keeping with the developing theme, this week won’t either — it’s still sitting on my nightstand, only slightly less unfinished than this time last month. So it goes. Instead:

Milling Operations in the Lathe, the 1984 fifth entry to the 'workshop practice series' by Argus Books Limited, written by one Tubal Cain. No, not that tubalcain. No, not that one either.

Should you wish to browse, you can find the whole thing on IA here.

The How

You may know I have a silly little lathe. You may also know I don’t have any sort of milling machine (though I have at times made the acquaintances of such). This is often a source of frustration — what happens when I want to make square thing instead of round ones? Nothing much, or at least nothing good.

Thankfully this is not an uncommon state of affairs; clockmakers and model engineers have been devising workarounds for lathe-only shops for ages. Sometimes they document these in obscure magazines or rotting forums or YouTube videos with audio that sounds like it came from the bottom of a well, all of which I of course love to root around in. Other, less convenient times, it ends up in books, but every once in a while, those books (like this one) end up online for free.

The Text

If, for some reason, you're trying to construct a working model steam loco using only a lathe and near-infinite disposable income in mid-80s Britain, you're gonna love this one.

Although I mentioned clockmakers in the previous section — and although Mr. Cain himself mentions them in his excellent first chapter — this is most definitely a book for model engineers. The machine builders, lathes, tooling, operations, and general scale of work described all concern the sort of guy who'll pour tremendous sums of money and time into small replica steam engines and practically no one else. I happen to find this charming, mostly.

Given this is pseudonymous, I can't pretend to know the author's chops. I can, however, speculate. Some similar books are written by people who aren't otherwise in the business of putting pen to paper. This feels different — it's easy to follow, efficient, and anticipates technical questions well. I'd have to compare it against other books in the series to say whether the editing is a similar standout feature, but at any rate it's quite good. I'm impressed; this could've sucked.

The Object

Overbright scan aside, I mostly really like the preparation and delivery. Two-column pages are the right choice, and although the EMPHASIS and SECTION SUBHEADS sometimes blend together, it's easy enough to track. The diagrams work and it's heavily illustrated, though usually for detail rather than concepts — skimming is a gamble.

Sure, some of the photos feel like the roughly staged progress shots you'd get on a mid-2000s machining forum, but that's not because the look is lazy, it's because it's timeless. It is also lazy, though. The technical drawings and tables are great but cramped, which is necessary but annoying.

That's unfair of me; this is clearly the labor of a lot of love, and it does what it wants to better than practically any hobbyist manual I've ever seen.

The Why, Though?

For one, because it's brimming with outlandish contraptions and cockamamie whatsits. Many of the specialty add-ons and one-off shop projects by contributors are very, very hard to find mentions of on the internet. The generations of tool design this captures oughtn't be forgotten. Of course, the selection is very, very British — mostly Myford lathes, for example — which skews the selection pretty badly. I know I have at least one follower with a Super 7, so maybe it's not a complete wash.

For two, because I have some small milling projects in the works. British (and model engineer, and moneyed) though I am not, there are several setups in this book — simple ones, mind you — I can approximate readily enough. Maybe some of that will get posted in the coming months.

#images #untitled wednesday library series

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 1 year

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1.0, Big Brother (0% technophobic)

These are tech bros and billionaire executives, the kind of people who push for AI facial recognition, data tracking, and mind reading technology (metaphorically, until actual mind reading technology becomes viable, in which case, literally). If you give them an email address you haven't touched since 2006, in less than a day they'd have a file full of your personal information thicker than the FBI's and NSA's combined. Down here, you have guys like Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg, and most politicians (especially after 9/11. Can you say USA PATRIOT Act?)

1.1 - 3.2

Here, you'll find the fanboys of the above. Guys who are really into NFTs and crypto. Influencers and blue checks who crave attention and show off all their 4 figure phones, 5 figure workout equipment, and 6 or 7 figure cars. The kind of rich assholes who think they're tech savvy because every appliance in their home connects to the internet and requires a subscription service in order to not vent deadly neurotoxin through their air ducts. These are all small fish who aspire to be big fish; the 1.Xs will throw themselves under the bus to protect the 1.0s, while the 2.Xs will get thrown under the bus involuntarily.

3.2, True Neutral (50%)

Because this is a log scale, the actual center is 3.16227766 (the square root of 10). 3.2 represents Average Joe American, the type of guy who doesn't care about the state of technology one way or the other. He probably doesn't own an Alexa or Ring camera, only because he's never thought of buying one (3.1) or thinks it would be too much of a hassle to set up (3.3). If facebook asked him for a 3d scan of his head to try out a new memoji, he'd upload it without hesitation. He thinks cops shouldn't need a warrant to spy on the Bad Guys™, and recently voted for politicians who wrote the Let Cops Decide Who is Good and Who is Bad With Impunity Bill (though he will never connect dots between his actions and their consequences). "Why should you care if you have nothing to hide?" This guy buys his friends and family $100 send-in-your-spit DNA tests for Christmas.

3.2 - 5.0

I'd say most of the people reading this fall somewhere around here, though they think they're much higher. Hell, I'm probably a mid-4, but until I actually started plotting out this scale I would have guessed I was a 6 or a 7. High 5 at least! 3.Xs don't know how to pirate things and begrudgingly subscribe to some or all the major streaming services. 4.Xs don't use facebook anymore, but are still on twitter because that's where all the people they follow post from. These people are vaguely aware of how bad things could potentially be, but have no clue how bad they really are; if you suspect you're in this range, please know that every single service you've ever given your email address to is connected to your name in a database somewhere, even if you faked all the rest of the info you gave out. If you signed up to a grocery store value card, advertisers immediately know every single item you've ever purchased, and can even make assumptions based on the purchases of people you are in close proximity to every day (your phone is close to this other person's phone from 9 to 5, so you're probably co-workers, or they're close from 6pm to 6am, so you live together, etc.)

5.0 - 6.0

A little healthy skepticism to help shield your brain from the fact that you live in an Orwellian surveillance state. You use adblocker and VPNs, you don't carry your phone with you 24/7, you use burner emails for every different website (though it won't make much difference because they're all being accessed from the same device, so it wouldn't take any government entity more than a couple seconds to figure out they all belong to the same person). If 3.2 is blissfully ignorant, 5.2 is in living hell because they KNOW what's up and are powerless to do anything about it.

6.0 - 8.0

These are the REAL tech savvy people who don't use social media, have zero smart appliances in their homes, and rely heavily on physical media. We should all strive to be here. In the upper 7s you get privacy activists who know deep down that the system will never be able to fix itself but still hope against hope that it will.

8.0 - 9.9

These people scare me, not because they actually get shit done but because they have delusions of grandeur and TALK about how much shit they'll get done. Most libertarians think they're up here, but really they're down in the 4s and 5s with the rest of us. Real 8s and 9s are batshit Tyler Durden wannabes who think they can change the world by planning terror attacks "in minecraft." They never do anything because they either get caught or chicken out because it's more fun to plan for the singularity or the collapse of the grid than to actually carry out said plans. These are doomsday preppers and dude-bros who are little different than qanon nutjobs (except that qanon supports Big Brother)

10.0, Full Kaczynski (100%)

You are Theodore John Kaczynski, you live in a shack in the woods and you mail bombs to universities. NEVER GO FULL KACZYNSKI. You'll never succeed in hurting any substantial 1s or 2s, just innocent 3s and 4s. In reality, Ted cared more about industrialization and the environment than computers and the police state, but the internet didn't exist in the 70s. The modern world is built upon man made horrors beyond his imagination.

I guess I subscribe to a lopsided horseshoe theory; instead of both sides being equally bad at the extremes, the lower end is worse because it is much more powerful and influential. There are more 1.Xs than 9.Xs, but you'll hear about the 9s in the news a lot more often. You're more likely to be killed by a cow than a shark, or by a cop than an undocumented immigrant, but we all know that quantity isn't what gets reported on, now is it?

I dunno, take this scale with a grain of salt. It's all subjective.

#ted kaczynski #kaczynski #Technophobia #log scale #never go full kaczynski #technology #big brother #big brother is watching you #orwellian #surveillance #surveillance state #police state #privacy

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hatredcurse · 8 months

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👥Starter Generator || @bladedhunter

It's mid-morning. There's a band of heavy cloud. You're in the countryside. There's a desolate feel to the place.

Empty. The Konoha countryside was an empty, dismal place with this heavy smog of chthonic energy. The type of smothering miasma that made the air dense, even when the rising sun burned away at the morning fog to clear the air of vapor, this heaviness remained.

It wasn't ideal to travel through backroads in the countryside. Not that it has ever been a safe mode of transportation. Wars raged and died away, bandits picked their favoring trails only to later migrate away, the ever ambitious rogue shinobi might find themselves particularly lucky with boon on backroads— all the time, danger would always be lurking. Especially in the quiet spots.

Orochimaru was both a formidable peril and a minor threat all the same, depending on this mood. In later years, he was finding himself bored of his field of study. Everything he yearned to learn, excavated and shoved into a dusty back shelf in some well-guarded room. Yes, there was a level of elation to be had maneuvering expensive yet useless traps for a goldmine of information, but it didn't change the key component that he didn't conjure the knowledge himself. Rather, he is as he was before: robbing graves for unoriginal ideas.

It was no good for him to be bored at such an early stage of immortality. He's yet to shed his first skin of the century, iridescent scales dull and bleak into complacency.

Burying this latent dissatisfaction keep into the coil of his almost-mortal being, he pursued forward on the footpath, praying for divine revelation to re-ignite his flame with the unexpected.

"Oh, well, what do we have here?" his mouth moved before his mind pieced together his words," a little far from home, aren't we?"

Narrowing those golden eyes, he sharpened his view on this lovely figure before him. All light absorbed into his rather drab wear and all the humor in the atmosphere sucked dry from that scowl: Sasuke Uchiha, the youngest remnant of a forlorn history, boy miracle. The smile imprinted itself instinctually upon his lips, one that reached his eyes, but couldn't fool well-trained perception.

#Orochimaru ic #v. EVER-COILING SNAKE BURROWING INTO INFINITY; THE HABITS OF OUROBOROS (Post War)#closed starter #bladedhunter

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scapegrace74-blog · 2 years

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Don’t Let Me Fall, Chapter 4

A/N This chapter sorta poured out of me last night, so here’s a mid-week update. Don’t get too used to them! Also, there are a lotta muscles in that moodboard. You’re welcome.

Previous chapters can be read here.

If the circus performer gig ever fell through, Jamie Fraser had a bright future in prognosticating. No sooner had the one-month anniversary of my arrival in Montreal passed that I found myself settling into the routine he had promised. My shoulders widened considerably from all the strength training. My forearms grew ropey with newly formed muscle. Callouses now graced the base of each ring finger from countless hours hefting free-weights. And while I was still no carnivore, I heeded his advice and ordered a burger anytime I felt my energy levels plummet. I gained five pounds on the scale but put on fifteen pounds of muscle.

For all their differences, the ballet and the circus had enough in common for the latter to feel familiar. There was the endless repetition of movement, until my muscles recognized their job without any active thought on my part. The artistic sensibilities and intricate social pecking order of the performers. The long days that left precious little time for any extra-curricular pursuits. And mostly, there was the quietly fierce commitment to entertain, to excel, to shine when the spotlight turned your way.

Navigating this new world absorbed the majority of my attention, such that I spent very little time getting to know my troupe mates beyond a casual nod or greeting. Seemingly recognizing this, Jamie went out of his way to introduce me to other members of the Tropico cast. There was Yi Tien Cho, a Chinese juggler with a poetic bent and a penchant for off-colour jokes. We bonded over a shared passion for oolong tea. Then there was Mary Hawkins, a self-effacing slip of a girl who could quite literally contort her body into knots. We had a standing date in the common room on Monday evenings to watch The Bachelorette. A hopeless romantic, Mary’s grey eyes would go misty during each rose ceremony, no matter how often I pointed out that the show was scripted.

Most significant of all was my budding friendship with Jamie. Since that second encounter in the cafeteria, he took my indoctrination into the circus life on as a pet project. I couldn’t have asked for a better benefactor. In a profession rife with egos and ambition, Jamie was an effortless alpha. While doing nothing to assert his influence, all the other performers respected him. I attributed some of this to his sheer size and athletic talents, but the fact remained that he was a natural leader. By virtue of people seeing us together, a certain amount of that deference rubbed off on me, making my life on campus considerably easier.

It wasn’t that we spent all that much time in each other’s company, really. A quick hello in the hallway when I was on my way to physical therapy, and he coming back from a run, all sweat and shimmer. An occasional chat in the cafeteria over a prepared meal, just enough information being exchanged for me to know he grew up in a tiny Highland village where everyone knew their neighbour’s business, and for him to hear about my itinerant youth, following my guardian around the globe. Once, in the weight room, he’d shown me the proper technique for using the cable row machine, his hands precise and impersonal as they adjusted my posture. He even joined my favourite evening yoga class now and again, his long limbs and bulky muscles surprisingly limber as his curls reflected the dim candlelight.

It came as no great surprise to realize I’d developed a slight crush on him, but it was abundantly clear my attraction wasn’t returned. Unfailingly polite, Jamie never once made any kind of romantic overture or even a lascivious glance. I’d heard about his break-up with his previous aerials partner from Mary, so it clearly wasn’t a question of not dating a fellow performer. The lifestyle of a circus artist was so intense and unusual that relationships between co-workers were the norm; so much so that the dormitories had been dubbed the Rabbit Warren for the frenzy of fornication that took place within.

If I had any doubts that Jamie’s interest in me was purely platonic, they were laid to rest when he finally made good on his promise to share some high protein recipes. I showed up at his door freshly showered and wearing mascara for the first time since leaving London. Each bachelor suite was the same in terms of layout, with a small kitchen, breakfast bar, living area and separate bedroom and ensuite bath. Jamie’s was more austere than most. A small stack of books (a Quebecois novel in French, some true crime thrillers, and Catallus’ love poetry in Latin, of all things), a framed picture of a dark-haired woman, her partner, and two small children, and a few boxes shoved into the corner were the only adornments.

“Have a seat at the bar while I prep these veggies,” Jamie invited once he’d offered me a glass of water.

Keeping up a running commentary on the correct balance of micro and macro nutrients for a high-performance athlete, Jamie proceeded to do exactly what he said he would. He showed me how to prepare a pork and cashew stir fry (“verra high in iron, Tourist”) then moved straight on to preparing a meatless shepherd’s pie.

While the second dish was in the oven, Jamie excused himself to take a phone call in his bedroom. Tired of perching on the high stool that no doubt fit the giant Scot perfectly, I slid to my feet and wandered into the living area. From my new perspective on his sofa, I could make out a brown leather portfolio like an architect might carry, balanced on the shelf of his coffee table. I glanced guiltily to where Jamie’s deep voice thrummed from the other room, then carefully slid the mysterious object to where I could take a better look.

Inside was a sheaf of heavy bond paper, each sheet covered in a whirlwind of drawings, some made with charcoal pencil and others in oil pastels with hues of moss and graphite and fiery ochre. The images were primitive, but at the same time incredibly evocative, like cave paintings or figure studies by Matisse. There was no doubt in my mind that Jamie was the artist. As best as I could fathom, the drawings were the blueprints for a truly unique Cirque show centered upon figures from Gaelic mythology. I recognized faeries and waterhorses, druids and warriors, all represented by circus artists performing a variety of extreme feats. The throughline was a faceless woman with Medusa-like hair who rose like an angel from a ring of standing stones. Written below her image in a blocky masculine hand was The Lady of Balnain. I was completely and utterly captivated.

“Those are only the rough drafts.” Jamie’s voice, immediately behind me, made me jump and drop the page that I had been holding. It floated to the ground and landed, accusingly, at my feet.

“I’m so sorry for snooping,” I apologized, heat creeping up the back of my neck and I hastened to pick up the stray paper.

“Dinna fash, Tourist. I shoudna have left ye out here along for sae long. My sister can be a tad long-winded when the spirit moves her.”

Eager to latch onto a subject that wasn’t my violation of his privacy, I gestured at the nearby picture frame.

“Is that her?”

“Aye, Jenny, with her husband Ian and my niece and nephew. They live back home in Broch Mordha, sae I dinna get to see them verra often.”

“Is she artistic as well?” I could not help asking.

Jamie chuckled. “Jenny’s idea of art is making shortbread cookies in different shapes instead o’ just round. Nay, she takes after our Da. Pragmatic to the core. I get my artist side from our Mam. She was a wonderful painter, though she hadna much time to indulge, what with the farm to help run and two rambunctious children to raise.”

“How did you get into circus performing, then?”

“Och, well, there wasna much for a strapping lad such as myself to do back home that didna involve hitting or being hit, and I never did care fer violence. A nearby town had a gymnastics school and my Da would drive me over every weekend. A teacher there recommended I try out for the National Circus School in London when I was but fourteen. I kent it was something I was good at that would earn me a decent living while getting to see the world. So off I went.”

I was sure there was more to the story than that, but I didn’t want to solidify my reputation for unchecked nosiness.

“I dunno, Fraser,” I teased instead. “Picking a circus career because you’re a big strong Scot who doesn’t like punching things? Seems pretty pragmatic to me.”

To my relief, Jamie laughed.

“I really am sorry for looking at your portfolio without your permission, Jamie. It’s no excuse, but once I saw the story you were telling with your drawings, I couldn’t put it down. The Lady of Balnain. Is that a Scottish legend of some kind?”

“Aye, a less well-known one, to be sure. It’s an idea I’ve been working on for a couple years, no’ that I have much to show for it.”

“Well, what you’ve got looks amazing. If there’s anything I can ever do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask,” I said.

“Thank ye kindly, Tourist.”

There was a pause, an endless moment when we simply looked at each other. I wanted to ask him to join me on the sofa, but that seemed presumptuous considering it was his home.

“Well,” Jamie declared a bit too loudly. “I canna eat all this food myself. Let me pack some up for ye, sae you dinna have to cook much this week.”

Which is how I found myself walking back to my suite with two large Tupperware containers and the certainty that Jamie Fraser was unequivocally not interested in me romantically.

***

Jamie didn’t know what had crawled up Geneva’s arse, but she was even more erratic and prone to outbursts these days. One minute he was a lazy oaf whose breathing was too loud to bear. The next she was a teary mess, clinging to his chest and leaving snot all over his athletic gear. The conclusion he drew was that she was dealing with a particularly bad case of PMS, so he held back his sharp retorts and tried to make himself as inoffensive as possible until it passed.

It didn’t help that the routine they were learning for Tropico was more complex and technically challenging than anything either of them had attempted before. They rehearsed with safety harnesses, so it wasn’t a matter of life or death, but Jamie still prided himself on earning his partner’s trust by never letting his grip falter. Geneva’s mood wasn’t improved by repeatedly dangling from the security line like a puppet on a spring, either.

While the choreographer droned on about primeval gestures and tapping into their bestial natures, Jamie let his attention wander to the neighbouring platform, where Claire was practicing some beginner aerial moves. The former ballerina had improved in leaps and bounds since arrived at Cirque des Etoiles, a testament to her incredible work ethic and the fact that she was already a world class athlete, albeit in a peripheral discipline. He watched with pride as she executed a textbook upside-down split, her newly developed muscles holding the loops with nary a tremor.

John joined Claire on the platform, and they began working on paired maneuvers. Jamie’s wistful smile withered away. He didn’t begrudge his long-time friend working with a partner. All the principle leads had permanent or semi-permanent pairings whom they toured with and practiced with between shows. Being matched with Claire was John’s ticket to move out of the corps.

As he watched on, Jamie concluded they were all wrong for one another. Like most aerialists, himself notwithstanding, John was on the short side and compact. Claire, on the other hand, was tall for a woman and a regular giantess compared to most of the other female aerialists. Her lithe limbs were mismatched with John’s boxy form. And while John’s work on the straps was straight out of a textbook, there was something a bit soulless and robotic about his presence in the air. Jamie hadn’t noticed it before, but it stood out when compared to Claire’s fluid grace.

“Are you here to practice, Jamie, or stare like a lovesick puppy at our competition?”

Geneva’s high-pitched whine snapped him back to the matter at hand. Both his partner and the choreographer were looking at him in contempt and Jamie’s felt his ears burn with shame. No matter his opinion of John and Claire, he had a routine to learn and precious little time to perfect it before the tour began.

“I’m sorry, I was distracted. It willna happen again.”

When she neither tore a strip off his hide nor burst into tears, Jamie graced Geneva with a rare smile.

“From the top, then, aye? Let’s nail this damn sequence, Gen.”

The block of moves they were learning combined a strength move known as a coffee table, morphing into a one-arm hang, and then finally a rapid corkscrew where Geneva spun like a top while being suspended from Jamie’s right hand. It was the transition to this last move that had caused them so many problems, but this time Jamie ground his molars together and powered through the pain. Soon, Geneva’s black ponytail was twirling below him like a propeller as the straps released their centripetal force.

When he first began circus school, Jamie had lost his lunch on a nearly daily basis. His wame objected to the abuse his chosen sport unleashed on his inner ear. It was only through desensitization that he eventually mastered his motion sickness. He still recognized its telltale signs, however, so when Geneva’s skin went ashen and beads of sweat amassed on her upper lip, he had the presence of mind to call for an immediate descent to the mat.

Not a moment too soon. Geneva ran to the edge of the platform, safety harness clanking between her thighs, and hurled into a nearby waste bin.

As he made his way back to the dormitories for an unplanned and leisurely lunch, Jamie pondered what could have caused Geneva, a former figure skater, to have suddenly suffered a bout of motion sickness. He only hoped that whatever it was didn’t get in the way of their training schedule.

#my writing #outlander #fanfiction

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thenuclearmallard · 1 year

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Russian Aggression Against Ukraine and Indigenous Peoples of Russia. Report by ICIPR

Report by the International Committee of Indigenous Peoples of Russia.

First edition. 24 August 2022

In the early hours of February 24 th the Russian military build-up along Ukraine’s northern, eastern, and southern borders finally erupted into a full-scale war against Ukraine. Russia’s aggression has already claimed the lives of tens of thousands of people, both among the civilian population, military, and paramilitary groups. It has pulverized Ukrainian cities, destroyed Ukrainian infrastructure, and further resulted in the largest refugee crisis in Europe since World War II. Additionally, it exacerbated the ongoing food crisis in the Global South, increased pressure on Europe’s economy, launched an extended economic recession in Russia, and has driven Russia’s decay into full-blown dictatorship at a pace that would have been hard to imagine in times of peace.

While the war itself has no declared Indigenous dimension, it will certainly have serious repercussions on Ukraine’s and Russia’s Indigenous peoples and the international Indigenous movement. As Ukraine’s Indigenous peoples traditionally mostly reside on the Crimean peninsula, they have been subject to Russia’s aggression since 2014.

It is difficult to predict how the conflict will evolve and what impact it will have on the survival of the current political regime in Russia. Predictions range from consolidation of Vladimir Putin’s regime, the regime’s transformation into a full autarchy, to a coup by discontented elites or popular uprising eventually leading to a democratic transition and/or territorial disintegration of the Russian Federation.

The present document is not seeking to explore any of these scenarios, but rather looks at some of the already visible effects of Russia’s war in Ukraine for Russia’s Indigenous peoples and beyond. Further, it explores the war’s short and mid-term political and economic consequences for Indigenous communities in Russia. Finally, the report will present recommendations aimed at improving the situation of Indigenous peoples in Russia in these very difficult circumstances and protecting those brave human rights defenders who continue their important work despite spiraling repressions.

Methodology

This report was initiated by the International Committee of Indigenous peoples of Russia (ICIPR) with the support of a coalition of several human rights and Indigenous organizations. To prepare the report, the authors used open sources and interviewed Indigenous rights activists located both in and outside Russia. To protect the identity of informants, some circumstances in the evidence from Russia have been altered. This, however, does not affect the key information, conclusions, and recommendations contained in this report.

Context

Ever since the 1999 appointment of Vladimir Putin as Boris Yeltsin’s successor, the Russian government has been busy silencing the independent and critical voices that flourished in the country in the first decade after the disintegration of the Soviet Union. The first victims of this political course were large media holdings and independent political parties.

After Vladimir Putin’s return to the presidency in 2012, the Russian government turned its attention to civil society organizations. Draconian laws enacted since 2012 regulate the work of organizations engaged in activities deemed political by the government. The constant harassment of these organizations by the authorities have made it next to impossible to openly and freely discuss issues relating to Indigenous peoples rights, especially where they concern the right to self-determination, and more specifically land rights. A particularly worrisome aspect was the expansion of extractive industries on Indigenous peoples’ territories without their Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC), actions broadly supported by Western businesses and governments.

As a result, today, the once vibrant Indigenous activist movement in Russia has been reduced to a handful of people. Those activists must be extremely careful about what they say and do as anyone who openly questions the political and economic choices made by the national and sub-national authorities is at risk of criminal prosecution. A number of prominent Indigenous rights defenders left the country fearing for their own and their loved ones’ safety and freedom. Some of those who chose to stay in Russia are experiencing arbitrary criminal prosecution initiated by the state or extractive companies.

The war in Ukraine has provided the Russian government with a new opportunity to further tighten an already very limited civic space in Russia. Soon after the start of what they insist is a “special military operation,” Russian authorities introduced various restrictions on the rights of freedom of expression and association.

On March 4th , less than one week after the start of the war, Russian authorities approved amendments to Russia’s administrative and criminal codes that effectively criminalize not only the expression of anti-war positions, but even the very use of the word “war” in specific circumstances. Law enforcement practice goes even further. Cases are on record of protesters being arrested for holding up a piece of paper saying “dva slova” (“two words”) that hints at the outlawed two words “nyet voyne” (“no war”) or where protesters were detained just for holding up their hands as if they were holding up a placard.

On March 23rd , Russia’s parliament adopted amendments expanding the ban to include criticizing the armed forces and criticism of all Russian government actions abroad. Additionally, Russian authorities insist that media sources only share information about the war provided or channeled by the Ministry of Defense. Russian authorities consider all other information as misinformation, which, when disseminated publicly, could be punishable by law.

The penalties for committing the offense of “discrediting the Russian armed forces,” including public calls for armed forces to be withdrawn or to stop fighting ranges from hefty fines to long prison sentences. As of today, the number of people who have been detained for their participation in anti-war protests exceeds 16,000 (most of them were released a few hours or few days later, while some were fined according to Russia’s administrative code) and dozens are facing criminal prosecution. Many of them are journalists, civil society activists, or political leaders. There are also examples of the prosecution of Indigenous activists.

Soon after the start of the war, Russian authorities went on a spree of extrajudicial closures and blocking of the last remaining independent media outlets in Russia and Russian- language media based abroad. The last free and notable news outlets were Radio Echo Moskvy, an influential radio station which was closed formally by its own Board on March 1st and the newspaper Novaya Gazeta. The latter’s editor-in-chief Dmitry Muratov was awarded the 2021 Nobel Peace Prize. The newspaper initially tried to adapt to the new rules, but ended up suspending its activities in Russia, succumbing to the ongoing pressure by the government’s media watchdog Roskomnadzor. In April, a group of exiled journalists from the newspaper launched a Latvia-based namesake Novaya Gazeta Europe, Russia’s access to which was quickly blocked by Roskomnadzor. Journalists who chose to stay in Russia attempted to launch a new weekly, called “NO.Novaya Rasskaz-Gazeta,” but this too was blocked by Roskomnadzor.

Further, the last independent TV station operating from within Russia, TV Rain (Telekanal Dozhd) ceased operations on March 4th . In July, TV Rain restarted its operations from Latvia and is currently streaming its programs via YouTube. To date, YouTube remains the only major outlet yet to be blocked. In doing so, the government risks a major outcry from the millions of Russians who use it for entertainment.

It was reported that, between the start of the war and July 2022, the Russian government has blocked over 5,000 internet resources for violations of the newly introduced laws related to the “special military operation.” Therefore, the media that are still operating in Russia do so by almost entirely avoiding the topic of the war in Ukraine or by accepting the rules imposed by the government and are, thus, relying completely on the information provided by the government.

Lastly, authorities are further blocking access to Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. On March 28th , a Moscow court declared Facebook’s and Instagram’s ‘Meta Platforms Inc.’ an extremist organization and banned it in Russia. While authorities emphasized that the use of Facebook and Instagram is not punishable, there are fears that this might change if authorities find it to be a useful tool for silencing its critics. As a precaution, when crossing the Russian border, some Russian Indigenous and political activists have begun erasing all applications from their smartphones that authorities could consider extremist in order for them not to be found in case of an inspection by the FSB or other law enforcement authorities.

Thus, by late March, the Russian government had established a near-complete monopoly on the narrative of the ongoing war in Ukraine. For the most part, it is only politically active and urban citizens that have the means to access independent information about the conflict in Ukraine and its political, economic, and environmental dimensions.

Today, Russian independent journalism exists mostly in the form of citizen journalism (private YouTube channels, Telegram channels, etc.). Some Russian media continues its work from abroad, but, with rare exceptions, is only accessible to Russian users via virtual private networks (VPN). To use VPNs, however, one needs to understand the benefits of its use, to have access to these networks, and the capacity to use it. Also, one needs to be able to pay for it, now complicated for Russian bank card holders as their cards can no longer be used for transactions abroad. They are, therefore, not very widely used, especially in remote areas where many Indigenous peoples live. While the use of VPNs is not criminalized, there are indications that Russian authorities are not happy with their growing popularity.

For some, consumption of disinformation is also partly self-imposed. Evidence from Russians abroad shows that some continue to consume and believe Russian state media propaganda, despite having access to independent media.

Yet, the reality for the overwhelming majority of people living in remote areas like Russia’s Indigenous communities is that they have no access to the internet, let alone the skills to avoid restrictions on information access imposed by the government.

“We use only TV to receive information in our village. Mobile internet is expensive and very slow, so we primarily use it for texting with relatives and friends. To surf on the internet, you have to drive around half an hour from the settlement closer to the seashore. We don’t use VPN or anything. My grandson, who lives in the city, told me I could use it now, but I don’t know how to do it. I am not too familiar with all this computer science, and anyway, he says that the government is blocking VPNs,” comments one Indigenous inhabitant of Kamchatka.

Additionally, a new law that will enter into force by the end of the year, introduces a concept of “foreign influence.” This new law replaces the infamous law “On Foreign Agents.” According to it, organizations and individuals do not necessarily need to receive funds from abroad to be branded “foreign agents.” It is enough to be deemed “under foreign influence.” Foreign influence is described in very vague terms and could even be an interaction with colleagues from abroad or with organizations and individuals who already have foreign agent status. A person or organization under supposed foreign influence is banned from receiving public funds, cannot offer education services or teach, nor can they organize public events such as demonstrations or conferences. They are also subject to a different system of taxation.

All people, including Indigenous activists, who write public texts of a political or apolitical nature and cooperate with foreign counterparts will thus be at risk of being recognized as such. Given that Russian authorities often apply laws retrospectively, foreign influence could be explained by something done in the past.

Impact of the war on Indigenous peoples in Russia

Indigenous soldiers in the Russian army

The Russian media reported that the overwhelming majority of Russian soldiers fighting in Ukraine are not coming from large urban centers in western Russia, but rather from smaller and poorer localities in Siberia and the Far East and the Volga and Caucasus regions.

The percentage of Indigenous peoples and ethnic minorities among soldiers in the Russian armed forces who are fighting and dying in the war seems to be disproportionately high.

According to our informants, one Indigenous village in Siberia with a population of around two hundred individuals, had five young Indigenous soldiers fighting in Ukraine. Their entire Indigenous nation numbers fewer than 2,000 people.

In many smaller towns and cities in the Russian Arctic, Siberia, and the Far East, contract military service is sometimes one of the very few paid jobs available and better paid than many other public jobs. Those who fight in Ukraine receive additional bonuses. It was reported that the average monthly salary of a soldier fighting in Ukraine is around 200,000 rubles, whereas in March 2022, the average salary in, for example, Tyumen Oblast where Khanty, Mansi, and Nenets Indigenous peoples live, was around 61,000 rubles. Given that Tyumen Oblast leads Russia’s oil and gas extraction, the average salary in many other regions, especially in remote Indigenous villages, is much smaller.

Some Indigenous activists from Russia informed the authors of this report that armed forces recruitment does not provide potential recruits with realistic information about what to expect in the army. This issue is also supported by other sources. And given that the Russian government severely limits information about human casualties and the war’s brutality in Ukraine, many people who sign contracts do not understand the dangers they are getting themselves into.

There have been confirmed deaths of Indigenous soldiers from Chukotka, Khabarovsk Krai, Tyva, Buryatia, and other Russian regions. However, the total number of Indigenous soldiers’ deaths is difficult to estimate as many Indigenous peoples in Russia have Russian names, making it impossible to distinguish them from non-Indigenous servicemen in open databases.

Given the high fatality rate in this war, one can tell that Indigenous peoples are paying a disproportionately high price for the war waged by Moscow politicians. While any loss of life is a tragedy, for small-numbered Indigenous peoples it could be a question of their very survival.

While the death rate is notably higher among ethnic minorities, many of those who return home alive will likely suffer from injuries and long-term mental health problems, including post-traumatic stress disorders. At the same time, Russia’s healthcare infrastructure in remote areas where most Indigenous peoples live has very limited capacity to address these issues.

Finally, when the extent of the crimes committed on occupied Ukrainian territory was made public, there was an attempt to racialize the brutality. Russian social media portrayed these crimes as committed by “savages” from remote corners of the empire, thus characterizing Indigenous soldiers as people who are more prone to violence “due to cultural traits.” Such an interpretation of events was trending not only among the Russian, but also the Ukrainian public. While investigations by Ukrainian authorities into these crimes are ongoing, it is too early to say exactly who committed the horrific crimes against Ukrainian civilians. However, even if Indigenous soldiers had committed some of these crimes as members of the Russian armed forces, one needs to be aware of the racist narrative propagated by such stories as well as the fact that, willingly or unwillingly, it distracts from those higher up in the hierarchy that are actually responsible for breaches of international humanitarian law and who allowed war crimes to take place.

Russian Indigenous movement

For many years now, the Indigenous peoples’ movement in Russia has been divided. For much of recent history, the Russian government has historically divided Indigenous peoples into different legal and political categories, each treated differently: “small-numbered Indigenous peoples” with fewer than 50,000 total population, “Indigenous peoples” with more than 50,000 total population, and simply “peoples” (as in the Caucasus and western Russian regions). This “divide and conquer” strategy has been an effective tool in exerting state control over Indigenous peoples. This report focuses largely on the category of “small-numbered Indigenous peoples.”

The Russian Association of the Indigenous Peoples of the North (RAIPON) is a large umbrella organization for Russian “small-numbered Indigenous peoples” and was once a fierce defender of Indigenous rights in Russia. In the past decade, RAIPON’s role has largely been reduced to rubber-stamping government decisions. The organization came under full control of the regime in 2013. At the time, Grigory Ledkov, a member of parliament for the ruling United Russia party, was promoted to the RAIPON leadership role by the Russian government. To this day, Ledkov remains president of the organization and as such claims a monopoly to represent forty-one Indigenous peoples of Russia North, Siberia, and the Far East at the national level and internationally.

The other “wing” of the Indigenous movement is mostly represented by Aborigen Forum, an informal alliance of independent Indigenous activists, organizations, and experts on Indigenous peoples rights founded in response to the de facto takeover of RAIPON by the government’s United Russia party.

This division in the movement persists to this day and is only further reinforced by the war.

On March 1st , RAIPON released an address to the Russian president expressing its full support for his decision to start the “special military operation” in Ukraine. The document is signed by leaders of 33 regional chapters of RAIPON, many of whom work for government bodies. On March 3 rd , RAIPON was joined by another pro-governmental Indigenous organization: the Association of Finno-Ugric Peoples of the Russian Federation, whose leadership signed an open statement by the leaders of federal Indigenous and cultural autonomies and civil society institutions expressing their support of Russian leadership.

In further response to RAIPON’s statement, seven exiled Indigenous activists from Russia announced their decision on March 10th to establish the International Committee of Indigenous Peoples of Russia (ICIPR) with an explicit objective of countering the Russian government propaganda relayed by RAIPON.

Given their political persecution and harassment at home, the exiled activists behind ICIPR are unable to visit their home communities. They maintain, however, close contacts with their communities and their peoples and thus give voices to their Indigenous brothers and sisters who chose to or were forced to stay in Russia and who continue their activism less publicly.

Ever since the creation of ICIPR, RAIPON has invested significant resources in trying to discredit the newly established organization and its individual members. They do so by making public statements questioning ICIPR’s legitimacy and accusing them of discrediting the Russian armed forces.

Polarizing attitudes toward the war are also increasingly noticeable among Indigenous peoples throughout Russia. Widespread disinformation and the difficulty of accessing independent information in remote regions, among other barriers, is leading to a split in the Indigenous rights movement. With laws becoming ever more repressive, Indigenous activists are increasingly divided and under growing threat. Authorities pressure communities and activists to comply out of a fear of prosecution.

Finally, Indigenous sources report that their communities are frequently misused for propaganda purposes. This happened, for example, on the Kola Peninsula, where members of an Indigenous community were invited, under false pretenses, to a meeting hosted by local authorities and were then forced to participate in a performance with militaristic symbolism. This is emblematic of the fact that Indigenous people in Russia are not seen as independent agents with rights and needs, but as subjects who do not deserve to be meaningfully represented, respected, and consulted.

Because critical Indigenous voices fear persecution, they can no longer effectively stand up for their rights and criticize the government, its proxy organizations, and crony businesses. This has a direct impact on their human rights situation in Russia, and the erosion of opportunities to express resistance will likely lead to further intensification of repressions and worsening of Indigenous peoples’ social and economic situations.

International advocacy

The Russian government’s criminal decision to wage a war against its neighbor had a devastating effect on its Indigenous peoples’ participation in international advocacy mechanisms.

Following the start of the war on Ukraine, the Arctic Council, a unique institution in which the Arctic’s nations, Indigenous peoples, and NGOs work on sustainable environmental development and protection of the region, has suspended its work.

Despite different challenges and the fact that, in recent years, Russia’s permanent Indigenous representative – RAIPON – has been mostly relaying the government’s agenda, the Council’s potential in fostering peaceful cooperation in the Arctic has been recognized by most of its members, states, Indigenous peoples, and NGOs alike. Suspension of the Council’s activities effectively put an end to various regional projects, including those involving Indigenous peoples of Russia.

Meanwhile speaking out at the UN has become extremely dangerous for independent Indigenous voices from Russia. Anyone voicing opposition to Russian government decisions at international fora risks intimidation and prosecution in Russia. This is a huge challenge, as participating in international fora is of great importance for the many marginalized Indigenous peoples of Russia. Just how far Russian government representatives may go in their attempt to intimidate independent Indigenous activists was seen at the July 2022 session of the United Nations’ Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (EMRIP).

On July 4th , the first day of EMRIP’s 15th session in Geneva, indigenous Shor activist Yana Tannagasheva was verbally assaulted and physically intimidated by a representative of the Russian state. In her speech, Tannagasheva drew the audience’s attention to Russian government and business community violations of the rights of Indigenous peoples and spoke about the case of her native village, allegedly burned by a coal company in response to some villagers’ refusal to sell their land to the company. Tannagasheva ended her speech by highlighting the government’s attack on freedom of speech and government harassment and criminalization of Indigenous activists in Russia and called for the UN Human Rights Council to establish a mandate for a Special Rapporteur on the situation of Indigenous peoples in interstate conflicts. During her speech, Sergey Chumarev, a representative of the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs (deputy department head for Humanitarian Cooperation and Human Rights) sat down immediately behind Tannagasheva. Following her statement, Chumarev insisted on obtaining Tannagasheva’s contact information in an intimidating manner and then insulted the Indigenous activist and violently reclaimed his business card, presented to her earlier, from her hands. His open hostility was documented by the Geneva Observer, the Swiss Radio Television SRF, and others, and provoked a strong reaction among other participants, who encircled Tannagasheva to form a human shield against the Russian official’s intimidating behavior.

It should be noted that Yana Tannagasheva was forced out of Russia four years earlier and granted political asylum in Sweden. Once again, she was confronted with the fear she and her family constantly experienced when still residing in Russia. The unacceptable and undiplomatic behavior is emblematic of the Russian state’s attitude towards Indigenous peoples of Russia and Ukraine and especially towards women. They continue to persecute those who speak openly about the real situation in the country.

Immediately after the incident, the Indigenous Russia website, possibly the last remaining independent media addressing Indigenous peoples rights issues in Russia, published a statement by the International Committee of Indigenous Peoples of Russia (ICIPR), of which Tannagasheva is a member, denouncing the behavior of Russian government representatives. Shortly after it was published, Dmitry Berezhkov, director of Indigenous Russia, received an email from the website’s hosting provider, saying it had received a request from the Russian government to remove the page from the Internet within 24 hours. Aware of the fact that this request was politically motivated, the provider declined to act.

However, access to the website from Russia has now been blocked and can now only be accessed via VPN. In his statement at a later EMRIP session, Berezhkov said: “This is the way that Russia immediately responds to the truth about violations of the rights of Indigenous peoples, a truth voiced in this hall. One way or another, we will continue our work to convey information to the international community about violations of the rights of Indigenous peoples in Russia.”

Divided peoples

Indigenous peoples whose ancestral lands are divided by national borders suffer additional impacts of the war when contacts with brethren across the border are severely limited.

The cross-border dimension is particularly evident in the case of the Sámi, who live in both Russia and Nordic countries. Here, the war in Ukraine has resulted in suspension of all cooperation between Russian and non-Russian members of the Sámi Council, the Sámi people’s main representative body. The suspension followed an explicit expression of support by some Sámi leaders in Russia for the Russian government’s decision to launch the war against Ukraine. And although not all Russian Sámi organizations endorsed the government on that issue, the decision to suspend Russian participation was made unanimously by the Executive Board of the Sámi Council, a body that consists of four people, one of which is a representative of Russian Sámi.

While the impact on cooperation between Inuits and Aleuts residing in Russia and those who live in North America and Greenland is yet not as evident as it is in the case of Sámi, Russia’s growing isolation and escalation of its antagonism with the West will likely lead to a reduction in transborder contacts. Some prominent members of the Inuit community in Chukotka publicly supported Russian aggression against Ukraine. Meanwhile, the Inuit Circumpolar Council which, among other roles, represents Chukotka’s Yupiq people has voiced its concern over the suspension of Arctic Council activities in a press release without denouncing or even mentioning Russia’s assault on Ukraine.

Other Environmental and Social Impacts

One by one since the first hours of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, Western governments announced economic sanctions against Russian government agencies and institutions, businesses, politicians, and other individuals. The sanctions severely restricted financial transactions between Russian entities and their foreign counterparts, led to freezing of the government’s financial assets abroad, limited the transfer of technological know-how, complicated Russian exports, and restricted air and maritime transit for Russian aircraft and vessels. It is estimated that the volume of sanctions imposed on Russia is the highest ever imposed on any nation in modern history. Government sanctions were quickly followed by foreign businesses choosing to leave the Russian market on their own initiative, suspending production in Russia, and closing retail outlets there.

In a globalized country like Russia, this led to immediate economic consequences felt by many within Russia, but also beyond its borders. Initially, it provoked panic among the population and spikes in prices for essential goods. Although prices for many goods have stabilized at this point, the sanctions’ long-term effects are difficult to estimate. It is expected that by the end of 2022, the Russian economy may shrink as much as 20%. Meanwhile, Russia is already experiencing shortages of some essential supplies, like medicines. The lack of fuel, food, and medical supplies will hit remote Indigenous communities especially hard, as many are only accessible by air transport much of the year.

During the highest tensions between Russia and the West since the Cuban missile crisis, and considering Russia’s strategy of silencing any opposition, it seems obvious that the Russian government will prioritize maintaining its military, security services, and law enforcement agencies, both technologically and financially, over providing economic support to vulnerable populations. Indigenous peoples in Russia are among the most vulnerable groups in the Russian population.

Dispossessed of their lands, they are excluded from decision-making when it comes to

resource extraction and other industrial development on their territories. As a result, many

Indigenous communities’ dependence on already meager state welfare for subsistence is increasingly coming under pressure. Today, these groups may face an even greater socio- economic crisis, similar to the one they experienced in the early 1990s. At that time, when the collapse of the Soviet Union led to a breakdown in food supply chains and social services, some communities in the Russian Arctic experienced high levels of food insecurity as a result.

With the closure of Western markets, the Russian government is tightening its focus on markets in India and especially China. While Chinese and Indian businesses are interested in Russian raw materials and the Russian market in general, Western sanctions are a deterrent and they are not prepared to risk their access to much more lucrative Western markets. As a result, they have so far been rather hesitant to respond to the Russian government’s generous invitations to enter its domestic market in order to replace Western

suppliers.

As a consequence of the state of the Russian economy, it seems likely that the government will drop already very limited and ineffective environmental and human rights regulations in favor of shoring up extractive industries to increase the competitiveness of their products in Asian markets. In fact, there are indicators that this has already started to take place. In mid-April, opposition politician Yulia Galyamina wrote that officials in Yakutia have authorized logging in one of Siberia’s last virgin forests for export to China. The forest in question is located on the traditional lands of the Evenki people for whom the forest is the essence of their traditional lifestyle and spiritual culture. Additionally, the environmental impacts of logging in this area will almost certainly have severe impacts on Indigenous peoples living downstream as well.

Russian mining giant Nornickel may also be using this strategy. So far, the company has relied heavily on the European market to sell products that are in great demand for the green economy transition. With the sanctions imposed on Russia and increasing supply chain instability, the company is considering turning its back on Europe and developing a new focus on Asian markets.

While dependency on exports to Europe was one of the last leverage points human rights and environmental activists had at their disposal to improve the situation of Indigenous peoples in Russia, the sanctions regime increasingly complicates the situation. It is no secret that, e.g., Chinese firms and investors care less or not at all about international environmental and human rights standards. Evidently, a shift in focus towards the Chinese market would most probably lead to even more limited human rights and environmental accountability for Russian extractive companies and their new partners.

Conclusions

As we demonstrated in this report, the Russian authorities’ criminal decision to invade neighboring Ukraine has had devastating impacts on Indigenous peoples in Russia, impacts that have clear demographic, political, and economic dimensions. The war further divides the Russian Indigenous movement in many ways and hinders international contacts and cooperation.

We see that military recruitment in Indigenous communities to fight in Ukraine has been disproportionately high as is the number of casualties among Indigenous peoples. These trends will further reduce already small populations of Indigenous peoples and could possibly result in additional pressure on the already insufficient healthcare and social services infrastructure that remote Indigenous communities can access.

Even before the war, Indigenous peoples living in remote communities have been hit hard by spiraling inflation and suffer from food insecurity and a lack of social services. All these problems are likely to be amplified by the war in Ukraine. Meanwhile in the economic sphere, Western businesses have been steadily replaced with Chinese and Indian companies. This means that Western human rights and environmental accountability standards and mechanisms, however insufficient and imperfect, will be abandoned in order to ensure the quick and easy resupply of the Russian government’s coffers, funds that will ultimately be spent to fund the war in Ukraine.

Politically, the war has divided the Indigenous movement within Russia, destroyed platforms of effective cooperation between Russian Indigenous organizations and their counterparts abroad, and has seriously impacted transborder cooperation for divided peoples, such as the Sámi, who live both in Nordic countries and Russia. It is quite evident that the Russian government has been active in using proxy Indigenous organizations to amplify state propaganda and to discredit independent Indigenous voices from Russia.

Call to action

The International Committee of Indigenous Peoples of Russia, created by a group of Indigenous activists from Russia in response to the Russian government’s aggressive war on Ukraine, unambiguously denounces the Russian President’s criminal decision to invade Ukraine and calls for the occupation to stop. The Committee also calls on the Russian government to immediately start working with the Ukrainian government on the peaceful return of territories annexed in 2014.

The Committee calls on the Russian government to abandon its imperialist ambitions, to seek peace and reconciliation with Russia’s neighbors, and, instead of spending billions of rubles in destroying lives of thousands of Ukrainian and Russian citizens to invest them in the wellbeing of the most marginalized groups within the country, including the Indigenous peoples of Russia.

Recommendations to the international community

Support independent Indigenous activists and human rights defenders from Russia

The holistic security and, especially, the digital security of Russian Indigenous activists needs to be improved. It is increasingly pressing for critical voices to be able to resist state-organized surveillance and repression and protect their privacy.

The important work of Indigenous and human rights activists at risk of criminalization and repression is dependent on rapid response mechanisms, including urgent relocation from Russia, in case of imminent threats to their physical integrity, life, or liberty.

Due to numerous financial constraints, including the criminalization of receiving foreign funds, flexible and creative means are needed for providing financial support for independent Indigenous organizations continuing to operate in Russia.

As activism in Russia becomes increasingly dangerous, it is more important than ever to support capacity and community building events outside Russia for Indigenous activists from Russia.

Support initiatives countering Russian government propaganda

The Russian information space is rapidly shrinking, making it difficult to identify and counter-propaganda. Financial and logistical support for mechanisms ensuring the flow of information from independent sources in and out of Russia is needed. Fostering independent Russian media located both in and outside of Russia are key.

Indigenous students from Russia benefit from education abroad. Study abroad provides an opportunity to gain a realistic understanding of what is going on outside of Russia (as opposed to what Russian government propaganda wants them to believe) and to take a critical look at the political and human rights situation in Russia. This will also allow them to build a network of international contacts and cooperation and thus contribute to better understanding among Indigenous peoples. Ultimately, they will be able to transfer their knowledge to their communities.

Isolating Russian citizens by blocking foreign travel and limiting their ability to receive visas has several shortcomings. Such isolation a) plays into the Russian nationalistic narrative that the West’s human rights record is no better than that of Russia since Russian citizens are punished summarily; b) threatens one of the few remaining leverage points left to the West; c) further reduces access to independent information, including about the war in Ukraine; and d) closes one of the few protection channels for Russian Indigenous activists and human rights defenders. Russian citizen access to Western countries must be maintained.

Document the human rights situation for Russia’s Indigenous peoples

Hearings need to be organized in European and other parliaments to provide a platform for repressed Indigenous voices outside of Russia and an alternative to Russia’s state-controlled discourse.

An in-depth UN report on the influence of the war on Indigenous peoples’ situation in Russia and Ukraine should be commissioned.

An impartial and independent United Nations mechanism such as a United Nations “Special Rapporteur on Human Rights in Russia” is needed. The mandate holder could closely monitor, analyze, and report past and ongoing human rights violations in Russia, including Indigenous rights. The status of a Special Rapporteur would provide its mandate-holder with a certain international legitimacy and standing that is much needed in these polarized times.

It is further important that international media continue covering issues concerning Indigenous peoples in Russia in order to portray balanced coverage of the challenges facing them.

Facilitate meaningful and independent participation of Indigenous peoples from Russia at international events and platforms:

Indigenous leaders from Russia must be able to speak freely about their concerns and protect their rights both domestically and internationally. Specifically, they require targeted support and protection when speaking at international fora and UN meetings. Representatives of the Russian government and any other individuals that have a history of attacking, threatening, and/or intimidating independent Indigenous activists and human rights defenders participating in international events should be banned from attending such meetings in the future.

Since official representatives of the Russian state and representatives of organizations affiliated with the state are direct accomplices of Russian aggression against Ukraine, they can no longer be considered independent and neutral actors. Their access to UN mandates should be restricted as firmly as possible.

As RAIPON is not an independent non-governmental organization but, in reality, an instrument of the Russian government that is misused to manifest demonstrably false unity and to conceal the problems facing Indigenous people in Russia, RAIPON members shall not be allowed to occupy roles reserved for civil society (for example, as a Permanent Participant of the Arctic Council, when that entity resumes operation).

Practice business responsibly with Russia

While we share the belief that economic sanctions are an important means of pressuring the Russian government to stop its aggressive war on Ukraine, we believe it is important to reflect on sanctions that could be implemented without harming the most vulnerable populations in Russia, including Indigenous peoples.

It is important to document attempts by Russian companies to bypass economic sanctions or access Western markets without following best practices in human rights and environmental accountability (including the principle of Free, Prior, and Informed Consent on the lands of Indigenouscommunities where resource extraction, infrastructure, industrial, and other development occurs).

Due diligence standards must apply throughout the supply chain, not only to its last segments. Complete enforcement of these standards will ensure that Russian businesses are not using third-country intermediaries to access Western markets without following best practices.

Growing demand for minerals needed for the transition to a greener economy is leading to increasing industrial pressure on Indigenous territories, including in Russia. While the transition to a greener economy is welcomed, it is important that it not occur at the expense of the human rights of Indigenous peoples’ rights.

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