#hashtag fly high hashtag rest in peace

[sallymew4]

weird little doodle to get used to my new drawing tablet

without speech bubbles and extras below cut 7:

small gnats keep breaking into my room through my window help me

[alpacaparkaseok]

Mine

1. He what now?

Genre: Yoongi x OC

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.4k

Synopsis: The first time Cara Richie sets foot on the Graham Norton show she’s confronted with questions that have less to do with her upcoming film “Young Rising”, and much more to do with BTS. More specifically with one of their rappers, Suga. Cara is an open supporter and fan of the band, however when Min Yoongi is shipped with the bilingual up-and-coming actress after mentioning her in an interview, things start to get out of hand. Fanart, twitter trends, and stalkers ensue, leaving Cara’s career up to an unknown fate. Then comes the moment the world didn’t even realize it was waiting for: a solo track from Agust D that raises more questions than answers, especially for Cara. 

I would recommend the Graham Norton show to anybody purely based off the quality of their couches. 

 It’s our five minute call when Sebastian Stan, my co-star and annoyingly close friend, shakes me out of my half-asleep daze. 

 “Hey, we’re about to be called up. Ready?” He helps me to sit up, laughing at the state of my hair. No doubt it looks like a bird’s nest. He motions for one of the crew to help me out, a petite makeup artist appearing out of nowhere and touching up my hair.

“Yeah, I’m excited I swear. I just wish I wasn’t so tired.” Sebastian and I rolled in from where we were shooting in the Democratic Republic of the Congo at about ten o’clock this morning. I have yet to recover from the long trip. Unfortunately, our interview was scheduled for tonight, and we stand to begin our course of promoting the movie for the foreseeable future. It’ll still be a few hours before I can crawl into a bed.

“At least it’s only an hour time difference, right?” Sebastian stands me up, instructing me to do some stretching.

“At least we finally have service. I haven’t spoken to my family in three months, they probably think you killed me and left me there in the middle of the jungle.”

One of the perks of our on location shooting was the fact that we only had a couple of satellite phones. No contact with the outside world for nearly three months. I grew way too attached to it, although the one downside was not getting to know how my family and friends were. A lot can happen in three months. I’ve been so rushed to get ready and get over here to the show that I’ve hardly had any time to even glance at my phone besides a cursory text to my group chat with my family letting them know that I’m still alive and back in civilization. 

 “Tempting, but too many witnesses.” Sebastian winks at me, coming to attention when we’re motioned over by one of the staff. Glancing at the TV in the waiting room I can see Graham Norton beginning to introduce us. 

 “Our next guests have just re-entered into civilization, so do excuse them if they’re a little off. Please welcome the dashing Sebastian Stan and lovely Cara Richie!”

Sebastian motions for me to go first, and I jump out into the bright lights. Even though I’ve been on a few shows by now, it never gets old. Granted, I’ve only had one successful blockbuster. Maybe I won’t feel the same once that number starts to climb. 

 I greet Graham before settling down on the couch beside Billie Eilish, the musical guest of the day. I’ve met Billie before, we actually became fast friends. I was invited to a music awards show (I found out that actors are often invited to them for some reason), and we decided to ditch the after party and settle for pizza and a movie instead. 

 “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, glad to know you’re still alive.” Billie mumbles. 

 “Barely,” I whisper back. Sebastian sits down on the other side of me, waving to a few people in the audience. There are a group of girls near the front row that scream even louder when I look their way, and I smile at them. Sebastian sure does have an affect on people.

“Well, well. Glad to see you’ve made it. Didn’t you two just fly in this morning?” Sebastian jumps in to answer. I appreciate him taking the lead, he definitely has a lot more experience than me. 

 “Sure did. I think you’re trying to kill us, Graham.” Graham gasps, every bit the entertaining host. 

 “Now, Cara,” I smile at the man, hopefully masking my exhaustion. I’m a huge fan of him, and I want to leave a good impression. “This is your second major film. How are you feeling with all of the attention you’ve received? Because really, you came out of nowhere.”

I nod, reminding myself not to depend on Sebastian. “That’s true, I kind of did. It’s been amazing though. I think they sent me off to the middle of nowhere so it wouldn’t go to my head.” Graham laughs, the audience joining in. I sit up a little straighter because of it. 

 “That’s probably smart on their part. Really, from what I’ve seen of the previews for this film, it’s called ‘Young Rising’, correct?” We nod. “Right. It looks quite intense. But you two, you two are lovers in this.”

 I shoot Sebastian a look that tells him we are anything but. “Yeah,” I draw out the word. “You could say that.”

“I really don’t know what they were thinking, putting the two of us together.”

“You mean to say that you don’t like each other at all?” Graham asks, feigning concern.

I shake my head. “I loathe him. But he won’t leave me alone, can you believe it?”

Graham nods. “Actually, I can. After all, you were recently named among the ‘most wanted’ stars in the world.”

I look at Billie completely surprised. “I was?” I ask her. She nods, shrugging her shoulders. 

 “Most wanted? That makes me sound like a criminal!”

“Isn’t that the point?” Sebastian taunts. 

 We continue bickering for a while. “I had no idea, but really I have no clue what’s happened over the past three months.”

Graham hums, shuffling through his papers before coming upon what he was looking for. “Really? Well I find that quite interesting, because something happened just last week on this show.” Suddenly the girls up front start screaming again, hardly able to contain themselves. 

I look at Sebastian. “What did you do?” I whisper. He shakes his head at me, mouthing ‘nothing’. 

 “Alright, calm down you three. I haven’t even gotten the chance to tell her yet, you’re going to spoil the surprise!” WIth great effort the girls pipe down. Graham swivels back to me, a mischievous smile on his face. 

“Oh no, what surprise?” I groan. 

Billie pats my knee. “I know what this is about, it’s been all over twitter. This is what I’m thinking of, right?” Billie asks, shooting me a close-lipped smile. 

“All over twitter? I haven’t had a chance to check twitter.” To be honest, I was putting off checking the hot mess that is social media. Three months of peace and quiet have been so nice, I’m clinging to it before I have to dive back in. 

“Last week, we had a very special musical guest. You’re a fan of BTS, aren’t you?”I nod, furrowing my eyebrows. Where is he going with any of this? 

“Yeah, I love them. We were just listening to them in the car, actually.” I gesture between Sebastian and I. Graham studies us like a textbook, nodding along. 

“That’s perfect! They came on the show last week, it was amazing. Wasn’t it?” The audience cheers and claps in response. “We got to have a little chat before they performed. A nice little heart to heart if you will. Somehow, I have no idea how, we got onto the topic of their love lives.”

We all give him a complimentary laugh, knowing full well how they got onto that topic. Any successful interviewer knows their way around questions to make even the most composed celebrity fidget in their seat until they slip up. 

“Oh did you?” Sebastian prompts Graham on. I know him well enough that he’s just wanting to move on at this point. We’re here to talk about our movie, not BTS. Heaven knows they’re famous enough already.

“Yes. You’ve heard of Suga?” I nod. I know who each of the members are, I really do like them a lot. “Well, he said something quite interesting, er, about you.”

My eyebrows flit up. “About me? He knows who I am?”The audience laughs, the girls in the front are practically causing an earthquake with how much jumping around they’re doing. 

“He most certainly does. In fact, when I asked the boys if there was anyone they had their eye on, they all immediately turned to him! It was difficult to get it out of him, to say the least, but I found out that he’s a big fan of yours. And not just from a professional standpoint, if you know what I mean.” Graham winks at me even as my mouth falls open.

Me?

“You’ll have to watch the clip,” Billie says, nudging me. “It’s been all anyone can talk about all week. It’s been so annoying, I see your name everywhere now.” She laughs, and I pull myself together enough to laugh along with her. I look around, reminding myself that I’m on international television, and word will get around quick if I look like a high schooler that just got asked to the prom by her long-time crush.

Even though that’s exactly what I feel like.

The rest of the interview passes in a blur, Graham even going to far as to show me a couple of tweets with the hashtag, #CaraBTS. I’m just relieved there isn’t some weird couple name trending...yet. 

“Oh, look at this one! You’ll love it.” Graham holds his paper up to the light, reading off of it. “‘This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill. Cara and Yoongi are finally happening. I’ve been pushing for this since I found out she went to school in Seoul!’ It would appear this has been a long time coming for some fans. There are others that aren’t quite as excited though, as you can imagine.” 

Shuffling his papers he pulls out another tweet. “Here we are, ‘I’m telling you if Cara Richie lays a single finger on my lil meow meow I’m suing.’ Well isn’t that lovely?”

We finally move on, Sebastian telling a funny story from our time filming in the Congo. I add in whatever tidbits I can, but I remain so focused on looking normal and unbothered by this new information that I nearly miss Billie getting up to sing. It’s during her performance, when the lights are down low and our mics are turned off that Sebastian nudges me, whispering something under his breath. 

He makes it look like he’s pointing something out on stage, “Hey, you alright?”

I nod along, looking for all the world like we’re chatting about the lighting. It’s true that it looks striking, the dark greens and blues cut across the stage, highlighting Billie’s haunting voice. 

“I think I will be. Is this going to be a disaster? Now all anybody will want to talk about is my love life.”

“Which we both know is nonexistent.”

“Exact-hey!” I shove my friend before turning my attention back to the performance. I still can’t quite relax, but I feel a little better. At least I have Sebastian by my side. He certainly knows how to remain low-key when it comes to the press. 

Once the interview ends the three girls at the front squeal until I look at Sebastian who gives me a shrug.

“I don’t think it’s for me,” he gestures to them. “Look at their sign.”

Sneaking a glance over there my eyes widen and I struggle to keep my mouth from hanging open. One of the girls holds up a little poster that I didn’t see before. She probably wasn’t allowed to hold it up during the show because she would block other people’s view. 

There, written in big bold miss that only a blind man could miss it reads:

                Cara x Yoongi nation

Graham notices my attention from where he’s saying goodbye to Billie and makes his way over to me. He gives me a pat on the back. 

“That,” he points out the sign that is now burned into my eyelids. “Is only the beginning, love.”

🌙

By the time Sebastian and I make it back to the hotel where the rest of the cast and director/producers are staying, I want to lock my door and throw something. 

Sebastian told me not to check twitter, but I ignored him. Curiosity did kill the cat, folks. News flash. 

If I wasn’t known before, I certainly am now. Twitter is a mess of supportive fans, those fans who are heartbroken but happy for Suga, and the fans that are out for blood. Like, real blood. I’ve read the words “better watch out” so many times that I can’t help but look over my shoulder every few minutes. 

I do appreciate the fans that claim that only true ARMY will support the boys’ decisions. Nevertheless, I decide to hold off any kind of presence on social media until further notice. A glance at the official BTS twitter shows them doing the same thing, apparently. I’m not sure whether I should be relieved or worried about that.

“I told you not to,” Sebastian chides once we enter the hotel. “Now you’re all depressed.”

“I’m not depressed,” I defend myself. “Just nervous. I’m not sure what this means for my whole acting career. I don’t like knowing that I have no control over it.”

Sebastian wraps an arm around my shoulders as we enter the elevator. “Not to worry, I’m sure the PR team is on it. Stacey is good with these kinds of things. Trust me, I’ve put her through enough near disasters that this will be a piece of cake.”

Sebastian and I share managers, PR reps, and many more things. We’re strange friends, thrown together through a series of random events, but I’m so grateful for him. I would be so lost without all the resources he’s provided me with. 

I give a dry laugh, slumping against my friend as the thought of being so close to a bed only serves to make me more tired. “She’s probably glad that it’s not you for a change.”

“Yeah, probably.”Sebastian bids me goodnight, heading down to his room on the other end of the hall. I can hear our director and a couple of the producers talking, but it’s too muffled to make out much more than their voices. I’m too tired anyways, so I opt to head straight to my room and get into bed before anyone can ask me any questions. I barely make it into my pajamas before I hit the mattress, sighing as I sink into the covers. 

“Ah, finally. Goodnight world,” I mumble, turning to flip my phone on silent. The moment I go to grab my phone, it lights up with a notification. Groaning, I pick it up, squinting at the light. 

“He...he what now?”

Next

Taglist is open! Lemme know if you wanna join.

What do you guys think Yoongi did?? 

taglist: @taylorroe3​ @eusticenatalie​

[calypsoff]

Twenty Eight.

I was supposed to actually go to California first, but I ended up having to do a little detour, I had to drop off some of my clothing line for Lil Wayne, I met Lil Wayne. I went on my own to his home which was dope as fuck, he was a cool dude, but he is constantly high and then Pharrell which he was in New York and I flew there so Robyn said to just meet her there, she wasn’t happy, but I am meeting her at the venue. The past few days have been crazy for me, for the clothing line. So much exposure for us, we are a little sold out on a lot of shit, so I told the boys to stay in Texas and get shit sorted with refreshing stock, I mean I am doing the best part by getting to meet these people. And I did flex that on my Instagram page, of course I would. A nigga from jail is now hanging with the top dogs, this is mind blowing. Lil Wayne is cool as fuck; his entourage is funny as fuck and they were the most welcoming for me. It’s been a headache anyways; I have two suitcases because I am going to California to live at Robyn’ home so I needed all my shit, so I am stuck living out of a suitcase for a while. Staring at myself in the mirror touching my stubble on my face, my phone pressed to my ear as it rang out “hello” Robyn picked up “are you at the venue now? Shall I come?” I have been waiting for Robyn to arrive “I am, I am going to do some rehearsal so if you come, I may not be around, but Jen has your pass so come” I need a shave “cool, you got a barber with you?” you never know “you mean Yusuf? He is here” pulling a face “I need a barber; my hair is grown out. You going to sort out your man with one?” you never know she may help me “my man? Who is that again? The nigga that doesn’t listen to me anymore” she is still on that “but I did say I would come and visit you for like an hour, I had to go to come here? Clients Robyn” she wanted me to come and see her when I was in Cali for Wayne, but I had to fly out “clients or your girlfriend? Mhmm, just come here” taking in a deep breath “see you soon petal?” she hates when I call her petal “shut up, bye” she disconnected the call, I mean I have a business to run now.

I can hear Robyn rehearsing outside from the venue, but I am currently waiting with my suitcases for Jen to come, security did ask and told me I had to wait so it’s whatever. She is taking her time with it though, I am going to be cute with Robyn because I know she is a little annoyed with me, maybe it’s her missing me so I am going to accept her talking stupid with me and just continue to love her and show her that she means so much to me, I adore her so much and she knows that “welcome to the tour Christopehr!” Jen half shouted “let him in” she said behind the barrier, I grinned at her. She always has such good energy “you moving in?” she pointed at my suitcases “uh yeah, Robyn’ home. I think this may be her way to get me to move there” pulling along both cases “welcome, welcome” I stopped to hug her, I am not rude “this is your pass, do not lose it throughout the tour. I am sure you will re-join us again later in the dates. I hope you do for the overseas part” nodding my head taking the pass from her, placing it over my head “Robyn has got you a barber, Yusuf is offended but she has a guy for you” I cooed out “really?” I am shocked “yeah, she said he asked so I will take you to him. Come along, I will suggest getting these on her bus, we will be on the bus after this date to travel to Philli, she has a five day window after that so you both can spend time together” I didn’t know that “really? So she doesn’t get overworked?” that is shocking “it’s a little different, this is a major tour, she gets plenty of rest” I am glad to hear she does.

Dapping the barber as his friend took a picture of us “good looking out” I said to him “like I have been to many barbers but you, dang. You got me out here looking fresh as hell” I am impressed “thinking of you bro, you got to look fresh when you date Rihanna. Dang, when I got the message. I said Rihanna wants a haircut from me? I was shook then it said her boyfriend, so yeah” I chuckled “it’s only her side nigga you cutting for, so when I make it big you about to be my personal one” he nodded his head “appreciate it brother” like this nigga is good “how much is that?” grabbing my money from my pocket, I have money in my life finally “on your girl, she paid already” letting out an oh, she didn’t need to pay I could have paid that “perks of being with a millionaire” taking in a deep breath “yeah” I mumbled, it’s not even like that “shame she isn’t here, I would love to meet her” my phone started ringing “maybe one day” looking down at the I.D, it’s my mother “ma” answering the call “I miss you son, oh baby. Desean showed me who uncle is seeing, I am so proud of you. I just had to check on you and tell you how proud I am of you” I cooed out “doing it for you ma, you know that. I am currently doing something, but I will call you later, promise. Love you” I don’t want to speak in front of these nosey niggas “ok baby, I love you too” disconnecting the call “you want me to walk you out? Actually I think I should” I am dumb, I shouldn’t be asking that “please do, I don’t know where I am going” nodding my head.

I wonder if Robyn is done, the music has stopped playing so I am guessing but where the hell could she be. It’s funny because I am speaking about Robyn and here she is, walking with her entourage. Such a tiny woman in a gang full of men, she is running the show and they are all following her. She looks deep in thought, but me I am so glad to have seen her now. I mean I didn’t know where to go, I grinned watching her walk closer and closer, this guy is speaking to her as she made her way. Looks like it’s a lot of taking that is happening “Twin” I said, Robyn looked up and her face softened, from the angry face to the happiness “poppa is here, I will and thanks” Robyn moved away from her team, she did a little run to me “I missed you so much twin” hugging her, wrapping both arms around Robyn and pressing her close to me “I missed you so much” I admitted truthfully “how you think I feel” moving my head back and pressed kisses to her cheek, Robyn giggled as I did “you look well, I am happy to see you smiling” pressing a long kiss to her cheek “love you” moving back from her “I am smiling now” holding onto Robyn’ hand “what was that all about, seems like a deep conversation?” leaning back onto the wall “I haven’t rehearsed Stay so he was mentioning it and stuff but yeah. I like your hair, huh. Who did that for you” she winked “Yusuf” I joked “aye, I said it to him and goes I know how to do that nigga’ hair, but my poppa looking all handsome. I am glad you’re here, finally. I was becoming jealous of seeing you with other people on Instagram, it’s hard because I wanted you with me. And I get jealous” she is telling me like I don’t know that “I get that, you so beautiful twin” Robyn pulled a face “I am sweating, shut up. Come, let’s go and sit on the bus. It’s quiet on there” Robyn yanked my hand to walk.

She is right, the bus is quiet. There is many people in that venue so I am glad we have peace, placing my jacket on the table before sitting down on the seating area “so you sleep in the bunks?” I pointed “no, my room. My actual room is in the back, I have a bed. The fuck you think I am sleeping on a bunk? But we don’t really sleep, we party” Robyn sat next to me “god, I missed you” placing my arm on the back of the seating around just behind Robyn “aye!” I spat jumping forward “what you doing!?” Robyn didn’t even move her hand from my crotch at all, she is deadass “Robyn, you have your hand on my dick! Like you have my dick in your hand, why!?” I spat, she is being deadass “I heard about this fetish about you wearing sweatpants, and I see it. See how easy I grabbed your dick, you’re banned from wearing them!” my eyes widened “deadass!? Robyn, I can’t help it” she still hasn’t moved her hand “see, I haven’t see you in a while. I have seen thirsty pictures and comments about you, I have seen these videos and pictures of you in VA, you have fanpages now too, CJ? The fuck is CJ, it’s your dick! Right, so from now on you ain’t wearing these” I have to laugh “baby, please. Let’s talk like adults. I can’t help that my dick is big, please stop gripping my dick, please” she is waking my dick “tell me it’s mine” using my free hand to rub my face and laugh “ahhh!” she deadass squeezed my dick “ok, Robyn. It’s yours and you know this! I can’t help it” she let my dick go, I breathed out.

Staring at Robyn, well more like side eyeing her. I can’t believe I am allowing her to do this but I rather let her do it then listen to her drive me crazy about it, she will start saying that I am enjoying Staring at Robyn just doing the most and that I don’t love her “done?” I asked, Robyn smirked moving her hand away from my dick “yes, I think I got the perfect picture look at my hand on your bulge” she turned her phone to me “it looks nice, now jerk me off” Robyn waved me off as she went to work, she is now having to think of a caption, she had to do the most because my dick print has caused some drama, I just got a big dick. I cannot help it, it’s not my fault “what did you type out crazy?” I feel my dick is growing, I feel like I am getting hard because she continues to touch my fucking dick “special package” Robyn smirked “hashtag daddy home” shaking my head “I need to be jerked off now” I pointed at my dick “my hand hurts” Robyn placed her leg over my lap, she purposely rubbed her leg over my dick “you need to stop that” she is so cheeky “mhmm I am sick of being Rihanna’s boyfriend, everyone always pointing out like oh you are Rihanna’s boyfriend” rolling my eyes “you could always upgrade?” she mumbled “huh, to what?” raising an eyebrow “husband” I snorted laughing “wow Robyn, dang. I ain’t settling, no ma’am my knee will not be on the ground proposing” Robyn hit my chest scoffing “you are actually annoying, you say all this shit just to be sucking my toes. Fuck you” she mushed my face “this is why I want to be single, can’t let a nigga suck anything in peace. Annoying” she out here talking about husband “besides, I don’t want you as a husband” she is a lie “I need a wife that will cook and clean” I retorted “you’re annoying, keep annoying me, you know I will have you apologising” she is getting annoyed, let me leave her alone before she really gets mad.

Watching Robyn sit down but she sat across from me which honestly made me smile “for you annoying me I changed my caption to Rihanna’s boyfriend, hope you’re happy” locking my phone sighing out “see I know you’re lying baby, I just looked and commented on it. I put big dick breezy” Robyn kissed her teeth “the thing is, I will have you on your knee. I just know it” I sniggered at the fact Robyn is stuck on that “anyways, how are you feeling about your first date?” let me change the conversation “annoyed” shaking my head “oh twin, why you got to be like this. You know I am joking. You and I both know this right?” she does know but she is playing stupid “I do but yeah, I don’t know. I am just going to take it as it is, like I am so excited, but I have kept that thought to the back of my mind about performing Stay, the set list is going to set me off. Because it’s Stay and then Diamonds, I am ging to be crying. I know I will be because my mind is just on that, but I will make it” nodding my head “I will be there for you in the crowd, I am pretty nervous for you, I can only imagine how you must feel. It’s going to hit hard, first time performing it after that happened” she is going to cry, but I don’t blame her for it.

I did want to see Robyn before she went on stage, but she was gone, as soon as we got off the bus the entourage took her, and they did what they needed to do to get her on stage. Mel bought me to the mixing booth in the back, so I am just sat here waiting, I to be honest want to be front row. I really do but I think I will do it myself and go there myself, I am excited for this concert. I mean I am at a Rihanna concert dating her this time, ain’t no daydreaming and smirking to myself. Robyn just thinks and assumes a lot, she knows damn well that I would wife her up, me and her are forever now so that is it. The lights suddenly switched off and the crowd just went crazy for nothing, I mean not going to lie I am excited myself. It’s so damn dark, I wonder where she is going to be actually. She never really said or told me the setup, letting out an oh it’s Mother Mary. I should have known it would have been this song, looking at the screen to see Robyn. She looks so pretty, a little on the skinny side. I didn’t notice that actually until now, tilting my head to the side. Robyn has gone skinnier, maybe it’s the rehearsing that does it to her.

I found a while sheet and it shows what song is what, so the Stay and Diamonds is last, that is good to be honest. I hope she can keep it together, because like prior to this it’s all upbeat songs. Folding the paper up “we found love in a hopeless place” I bopped my head, I need to leave backstage. I think I am going to go to the front because being so far back sucks. I can’t see shit; I mean I can but I can’t. I am about to get myself lost, seeing that Robyn is walking around in the crowd. Let het just get her ass back on stage before I go out there, watching Robyn being touched and harassed by the fans, they really touching her too. Stuffing my hands in my pockets as I stepped out further, she is going back on the stage now so I can come out. Rich dapped me as I stood next to him, I have a feeling I am about to know all these songs off by heart because of being here. Smiling lightly, I am super proud of her, she really out there killing it too. It’s made me see how hard she does work, and then I am just a pain in the ass for her. I mean I don’t intentionally do it to her, shit comes to me. I don’t ask for it to happen, but it happens.

I am pretty nervous for her for this part, like I just think she maybe needed to rehearse but now she has to do it. I am literally stood front and centre to where she is going to stand, the crowd was in uproar assuming that she had finished but she came out and I just knew, I instantly knew with the look on her face she is already emotional. I can’t say how it feels to lose a baby inside of you, or the moment it happens. I can’t say how that is but with the pain she goes through I know it’s something awful, we both lost something that night. Robyn stood in front of the mic, the tune to Stay came on and she was gone, my heart fell for her and I couldn’t do anything to help her but watch her. The crowd screamed louder and louder, Robyn is just breaking, and the crowd chanted her name. I just want to help her, I feel like the Stay intro has been prolonged longer because of this, she is just crying. She turned away from the crowd, I feel so damn helpless what can I do and I am just thinking so hard on what to do, Robyn turned back around and stepped to the mix “all along it was a fever” oh she is pushing through, I swear I am rooting for her “He said, If you dare, come a little closer” dragging my eyes to Robyn and I feel pretty choked up, putting my head down and away from the fact Robyn has hands over her stomach. Flicking the tear that left pretty quickly, this is hard, harder then I assumed it would be.

[tlbodine]

You know what I actually find very inspiring?

British philosopher Jeremy Bentham imagined the thought experiment of a panopticon. The idea is to place a circle of prison cells around a single central observation tower. Inmates can't see into the tower, but a guard at the top of the tower can see every cell. Because inmates never know whether or not they're being watched, they will always behave as though they are -- thus, perhaps constant surveillance would lead to a change in behavior.

For 20 years now, we’ve been under increasingly intensive levels of surveillance. The Patriot Act, the NSA, even fucking Facebook with its facial recognition technology. Our phone calls are recorded. Our smart technology keeps track of every purchase, every search, every thought. We mention something out loud and find an advertisement for it a minute later. The government reads our emails and knows our secrets. 

But you know what I don’t think they expected? 

I don’t think they expected citizens to use the panopticon against them. 

-- 

It is June 4, 2020. 

Surprising allies have arrived. Among the protesters, you can spot people in superhero costumes and fursuits. Online, a legion of K-pop fancams have been mobilized to flood every trending racist hashtag. 

I don’t know whether looting and burning is still happening. If it is, I haven’t seen it -- the narrative has moved on, and perhaps it has swept reality along with it, as narratives are wont to do. 

Protests carry on across the nation. Incremental signs of progress are being made. 

All four officers involved in the death of George Floyd have been charged. 

The ACLU is taking Trump, Barr and Esper to court for war crimes against innocent protesters.

Six NYPD officers a day have been resigning from their posts.

Law enforcement systems have publicly announced reform.

The protests are working. The progress is incremental, but it is happening. We cannot rest on our laurels -- the work of dismantling racism is the work of a lifetime, the work of generations. But progress is real, and it must be acknowledged; it must be celebrated. 

-- 

In the end, perhaps we will look back on this moment and remember it as the time in history when the police dismantled themselves. 

Time and time again, in cities all over the country, we have watched the police escalate violence against peaceful protesters. We have seen them put curfews in place, an arbitrary designation of when and how protesting becomes illegal. We have seen cops go from kneeling in solidarity for a photo op to raising shields and batons against those same protesters within hours. 

We have seen an officer shove a woman into the street so hard that she had a seizure. 

We have seen officers chase after protesters, tackling them, beating them with clubs. 

We have seen protesters throw canisters of tear gas and mace into crowds. 

Tonight, we saw a 75-year-old man peacefully walk up to a cop, who shoved him away so violently that the man fell and hit his head on the pavement. We saw the blood pour from his ears as he lay motionless on the ground. We saw police, over a dozen of them, walk past him without a second look. 

When the Buffalo police made a public statement about the incident, they said that the man “tripped.”

But we know, of course, that he did not “trip.” 

We know because we saw it. 

Gaslighting is powerful, but live video is even stronger. 

-- 

You put wire-taps in our homes and fly drones over our houses. You track our movements and monitor our conversations. 

But when every person in America has a high-definition video camera and unfettered access to a global communication platform, every person in America becomes a journalist. 

-- 

You can’t stop the signal. 

That’s what Serenity taught us in 2005. 

If you can pull back a stone and reveal the ugliness beneath, if you can shine light on the places where darkness festers and worms writhe, then the worms have nowhere to hide. 

America is watching. You have our attention. And we do not like what we see. 

[keramalusundeep]

THE SUICIDE OF HELL

He sets out with a prayer on his lips. Wired and beefed with bombs from head to the bone on his hips. There is no going back. The clock ticks on. He doesn’t need his specs on. Because by five, from one, two, three, and four, he’d be gone along with you in the vacation of your yawn.

He is not crippled by disease, society, upbringing, or education. He is just him. Sacked and hacked under a radical whim. Time is precious. The last moments are vicious. Biologically his ticker is alive. Spiritually he is dead. Because, only the dead can kill. And only the killed can be dead.

He is happy. The heaven is mapped in his favour. With the odour of the most beautiful untouched, virgin angels.

He has reached the destination. The nation from where he officially departs. The reaction in which his victims are casually censored in the aftermath graphic footage clip arts. Bodies are assembled in a scramble like broken eggs in a challenging scrabble. The curse is blessed.

THE LEGACY OF SUICIDE BOMBING

War is poetry for geopolitics. Most often it is a mystery who the poet is. It is always “poets”. War encourages the most collaborative commerce.

People are always unhappy with the existing government. Change becomes the staple food of the bourgeois. Their manifesto is smeared with the throbbing young blood of promise. Vibrant and striking. One that appears and feels better than that is today. It has to be. But if you just unwrap their juicy roll of delicious hope, all you’d see is an old fry dipped in new oil. Revolutions are baptised as the ‘Morning Sun’. Martyrs are autopsied as the ‘Memorial Sons’.

In 1869, the famous anarchist, Mikhail Bakunin, and Sergi Nechayev, both Russians, published a book called ‘Catechism of a Revolutionist’. A passage from the book reads, “The Revolutionist is a doomed man. He has no private interests, no affairs, sentiments, ties, property nor even a name of his own. His entire being is devoured by one purpose, one thought, one passion – the revolution. Heart and soul, not merely by word but by deed, he has severed every link with the social order and with the entire civilized world; with the laws, good manners, conventions, and morality of that world. He is its merciless enemy and continues to inhabit it with only one purpose – to destroy it.”

The book had a great impact around its epicentre. From the aftershocks, seven years later, in 1876, a group was created. It was called Land and Liberty. In this group, a considerable chunk voted for the system of state to go to the dogs. Then, hand over the land of Russia to its peasants. A reality that Mikhail Bakunin had been counting his beads for.

Three years from the inception of Land and Liberty, the group broke into two factions. One that had a sweet tooth for terror. The other that was diabetic to terror. The terror group went on to become The People’s Will, the Russian left-wing revolutionary organisation.

So the group built some muscle. And in 1881, Ignacy Hryniewiecki from The People’s Will was appointed to assassinate Alexander II. Not just in any manner. But with a human touch. When Hryniewiecki flung the bomb at the Tsar, he was too close to the explosion himself. The effect of the bomb along with tearing the Tsar apart, injures, wounds, and kills Hryniewiecki. Right this moment, the bomb conceives a new testosterone. It scribbles a ripple in the mystical ocean of its renaissance, spelling an endless and relentless wave of suicide bombing in an orgy of trance.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF DEATH

Before World War 2 was born, the Chinese and the Japanese had a warm up in 1938, with their Battle of Taierzhuang. Here, the Chinese soldiers strapped with grenades and explosives, dove under the Japanese tanks and blew what they could with the girth of their bombs.

When it was time for the Japanese to exploit the suicide hashtag, they soared high and cornered the market. Literally. During World War 2, Kamikaze pilots were engineered to fly planes into the navel of the Allied Forces’ naval fleet. Their planes were not built to deploy bombs as they were “the bombs”. From torpedoes to missiles to bubbling fuel tanks to aircraft, the Kamikaze pilots had only one role. To use the instrument they were in or on and take it straight to the flesh of the enemy’s ships, making them bleed hard, to grief.

To the Japanese, the philosophy of death was far more supreme and coveted than defeat. According to the principles laid out in their Samurai and Bushido code, everything else came second to loyalty and honour.

The Land of the Morning Sun, South Korea, who, cradled by the U.S.A, after the split of Korea in World War 2 was not all sunshine and rainbows when it came to the roster on suicide poll. Among the developed nations, South Korea ranks #1 in suicide rate. 14,160 people committed suicide in 2012.

As South Korea was still licking its wounds from World War 2 and the Korean bifurcation, North Korea invaded South Korea on June 25, 1950. As part of a strategic military tactic, South Korean soldiers wrapped bombs around their bodies and attacked North Korean tanks.

North Korea was not shy either. Using satchel charges, North Korean suicide squads attacked American tanks in the same Korean War.

When the suicide bombing ball rolled over to Asia, LTTE grappled it hard with its jaw like a mastiff on cocaine.

LTTE didn’t spare the government, civilians, Prime Minister or their own President. They were Tigers. Wild. All they knew was to hunt and eat. In their case, detonate and inspire for a cause. Between 1980 and 2000, LTTE rocked the stage of the suicide bombing concerts.

Once the middle east understood that it was beyond just snaking exotic bellies for the connoisseurs and cheering ships of oils with the west and the rest of the velvet states, it knew it could roll the dice on its golden plate of religion.

“Jihad” becomes the dictator. Everyone else obliged to press the Quran against their foreheads out of proclaimed duty and acclaimed piety, does as the Jihad commands. As we have come to see, with so many organisations and diverse mottos – LeT, Al Qaeda, Hamas, Hezbollah, Boko Haram, and of course, ISIS, Jihad is just one person. But he comes with many tongues. Or could it be said, Jihad has many flavours, but the main ingredient remains the same?

It used to be a man’s game. But as the world is hell-bent on giving its word to extending the quality of equality, the men behind the keffiyeh, the convenient and fashionable facial burka for the man, he started inviting women. And children. To take part in the exploding arguments for their bereaved cause.

A 2011 intelligence analyst report in the U.S. army said, “Although women make up roughly 15% of the suicide bombers within groups which utilize females, they were responsible for 65% of assassinations; 20% of women who committed a suicide attack did so with the purpose of assassinating a specific individual, compared with 4% of male attackers.” The report also maintained that most of the women suicide bombers were, “grieving the loss of family members [and] seeking revenge against those they feel are responsible for the loss, unable to produce children, [and/or] dishonoured through sexual indiscretion.”

With the children it is easier. Unlike their older counterparts who are to be lured with vengeance that is turbo-charged with the tartness of political, regional, religious, and sectarian propaganda, and the promise of relentless whoring in the afterlife, all that the juvenile needs to be told is that “they” are the bad men.”

A child suicide bomber is like the icing on the cake. They are agile, effortless, and very smooth.

Invasions take up our personal space. Demanding us to change our face and base. Our surrender will include both the genders, including the one that is tender. In agreement, you are an ally to one. In disagreement, you become an enemy to another. In neutrality, you are “a threat” to world peace.

There is no such thing as the world’s most famous suicide bomber. A suicide bomber’s kid won’t come out and scream on the edge of rooftops, “I want to be like my father.” The world is not going to sing songs for suicide bombers. No successful suicide bomber will go on to tell his tale. There won’t be any fodder from the “horse’s mouth”. Just a handful who were able to target the renowned are worshipped. In their own circuits. However, they are just messengers who are impotent to issue commandments, as they are not sure what it means to be right, and what it means to be left out.

Photo by Christopher Farrugia

[bountyofbeads]

Bonhomie? C’est Fini as Trump and Macron Seek to Defuse Tension https://nyti.ms/2z0Uzt6

Bonhomie? C’est Fini as Trump and Macron Seek to Defuse Tension

By Peter Baker and Adam Nossiter/Nov. 10, 2018/New York Times /Posted November 11, 2018

PARIS — They shook hands politely and patted each other on the arm stiffly. Their tight-lipped smiles appeared strained and forced. No cheeks were kissed, no friendly rubs were given, none of the bonhomie of their earlier meetings was on display.

So much for the bromance.

After a promising start, the relationship between President Trump and President Emmanuel Macron of France has soured. By the time they met in Paris on Saturday, the trans-Atlantic alliance that was to be showcased by this weekend’s commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I appeared to be fraying instead.

“The honeymoon is well and truly over,” said Mark Leonard, director of the European Council on Foreign Relations. “Trump’s visible contempt for allies over trade and the Iran nuclear deal are humiliating for Macron. There were high hopes of Macron’s charm offensive, but Trump’s actions have shown that it had no policy impact and that it is dangerous for any political leader to tie his reputation to the mercurial mood swings of the American president.”

It did not help on Saturday that Mr. Trump canceled a visit to the Aisne-Marne American Cemetery at the foot of the hill where the Battle of Belleau Wood was fought. Aides cited the rain; the Marines who pilot presidential helicopters often recommend against flying in bad weather. But that did not convince many in Europe who saw it as an excuse and another sign of disrespect.They died with their face to the foe and that pathetic inadequate @realDonaldTrump couldn’t even defy the weather to pay his respects to The Fallen,” Nicholas Soames, a Conservative member of the British Parliament and grandson of Winston Churchill, wrote on Twitter. He added the hashtag: #hesnotfittorepresenthisgreatcountry.

Ben Rhodes, who was deputy national security adviser to President Barack Obama, dismissed the explanation. “I helped plan all of President Obama’s trips for 8 years,” he tweeted. “There is always a rain option. Always.”

Mr. Trump will have another chance to pay respects to the war dead on Sunday with a scheduled visit to the Suresnes American Cemetery outside Paris following the ceremony at the Arc de Triomphe marking the anniversary of the armistice at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. But he will not stay for a Paris peace forum that Mr. Macron is sponsoring to bring together world leaders to discuss ways to avoid conflict.

“Trump’s absence from the Peace forum tomorrow, apparently alone among the 72 heads of state and government, will have a negative impact — the man who did not even pretend to work for peace, as it were,” said François Heisbourg, chairman of the International Institute for Strategic Studies, a research organization.

They died with their face to the foe and that pathetic inadequate @realDonaldTrump couldn’t even defy the weather to pay his respects to The Fallen,” Nicholas Soames, a Conservative member of the British Parliament and grandson of Winston Churchill, wrote on Twitter. He added the hashtag: #hesnotfittorepresenthisgreatcountry.

Ben Rhodes, who was deputy national security adviser to President Barack Obama, dismissed the explanation. “I helped plan all of President Obama’s trips for 8 years,” he tweeted. “There is always a rain option. Always.”

Mr. Trump will have another chance to pay respects to the war dead on Sunday with a scheduled visit to the Suresnes American Cemetery outside Paris following the ceremony at the Arc de Triomphe marking the anniversary of the armistice at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. But he will not stay for a Paris peace forum that Mr. Macron is sponsoring to bring together world leaders to discuss ways to avoid conflict.

“Trump’s absence from the Peace forum tomorrow, apparently alone among the 72 heads of state and government, will have a negative impact — the man who did not even pretend to work for peace, as it were,” said François Heisbourg, chairman of the International Institute for Strategic Studies, a research organization.

In a five-minute session with reporters before their meeting on Saturday, Mr. Trump and Mr. Macron sought to defuse simmering tension over security and trade. Mr. Macron reassured his visitor that his proposal to create a “true European army” was in harmony with Mr. Trump’s repeated insistence that Europe stop relying so much on the United States for its defense.

The meeting between Mr. Trump and Mr. Macron earlier in the day seemed decidedly chillier than their warm session in Washington in April when they smiled broadly, hugged, kissed each other on the cheeks and lavished praise on each other. During their short appearance before reporters, Mr. Trump remained formal and distant. When he avoided sharp language in front of the cameras, Mr. Macron appeared relieved and patted Mr. Trump’s leg appreciatively.

“We have become very good friends over the last couple of years,” Mr. Trump said, with none of the enthusiasm of last spring. “We have much in common in many ways — perhaps more ways than people would understand. But we are — we’re very much similar in our views.”

Mr. Macron referred to Mr. Trump as “my good friend” and said they had “worked very closely together” in countering Syria’s use of chemical weapons. “Our people are very proud to have you here,’’ he said.

A major point of contention is Mr. Trump’s decision to reimpose sanctions on Iran following his withdrawal from the multinational accord intended to curb the country’s nuclear program. The French want to continue doing business with Iran and resent pressure by the Americans.

The Trump administration waived the sanctions for eight countries, but France was not among them. One of Mr. Macron’s senior advisers complained about bullying by Washington earlier this week. “Europe refuses to allow the U.S. to be the trade policeman of the world,” Bruno Le Maire, the economy minister, told The Financial Times.

The two sides remain at odds over broader trade issues as well. Mr. Trump has slapped steel and aluminum tariffs on Europe and other trading partners, and has threatened tariffs on cars manufactured in Europe.

Mr. Trump said negotiations to ease the tariff war have been promising. “We’ve made a lot of progress,” he said. “We’ll see if we can get it over the line, as they say.”

Mr. Trump remains deeply unpopular in Europe, especially in France, where just 9 percent think he will do the right thing in international relations, according to the Pew Research Center. The president’s seeming indifference to European sensibilities was reinforced by a report in Le Monde, the French newspaper, that in a meeting with the leaders of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania earlier this year, Mr. Trump confused the Baltic states for Balkan states and blamed them for the war in Yugoslavia in the 1990s.

Mr. Macron understands the importance of maintaining the relationship, said Karen Donfried, president of the German Marshall Fund of the United States. But “domestically,” she said, “it may be better for him if the bromance has cooled visibly.”

Charles A. Kupchan, a former Europe adviser to Mr. Obama, said that Europe has all but given up on Mr. Trump and is focused instead on developing its own “strategic autonomy” to make it less dependent on the United States.

“Trump might be able to retain decent working relationships with populist governments in Italy, Poland, and Hungary,” he said. “But the rest of Europe is resigned to running out the clock, hoping and praying that Trump is a one-term president.”