#as some bar to pass or prerequisite for having their own fun

[cloverthirteen]

Was Ace Attorney made as a satire on Japan’s legal system? -- An analysis

I wouldn’t really call myself an Ace Attorney fan--I’ve never played any of the games, the closest I’ve come being watching other people’s let’s plays. I do like reading about the series on wikis and interacting with fan content for it, though, so I do know a fair amount about it.

One thing I see being said pretty often by fans is that the series was intended as a satire/parody of the Japanese legal system, which is why the courts are ridiculously biased towards the prosecution, prosecutors often care more about perfect win records more than putting actual guilty people behind bars, etc. If you’re familiar with this, you’ve probably heard of Japan’s 99% conviction rate. This interpretation of the games and the way they work definitely makes sense.

But after hearing this many times I eventually noticed something. There isn’t a single actual source (creator statement, interview, etc.) that backs up this claim. Every time I see someone online say “the series creator made Ace Attorney to parody Japan’s actual legal system” there is never a link to an interview or anything that proves their statement correct. If someone has an actual, verified source from Shu Takumi or someone else who had significant involvement with the series, please prove me wrong and show it to me. But according to all of the creator’s statement’s I’ve read, there’s no evidence of the series being an intentional parody.

So, what do we know about the creation of the Ace Attorney series? Well, it was created by Shu Takumi, who wrote and directed the first three games. After working on the dinosaur survival horror game Dino Crisis for Capcom, he was given the opportunity to make any kind of game he wanted. He really wanted to make mystery and adventure games, and from that came Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney.

MC: Before developing Ace Attorney you worked on Dino Crisis. How does one go from dinosaur survival horror to virtual courtrooms?

ST: Dino Crisis was the brainchild of my then boss, Resident Evil creator, Shinji Mikami. Working on his projects taught me not only how to make games, but also how to think about them. After Dino Crisis 2 wrapped, Mr Mikami gave me six months in which to create any kind of game I wanted.

I was still pretty wet behind the ears, but as I'd originally joined Capcom with a desire to create mystery and adventure games, this was a huge chance for me to make my mark as a creator. In the end it took a team of seven 10 months to produce the first GBA Ace Attorney title. Having the freedom to create exactly the kind of game I wanted was amazing and it was a real pleasure to work on that project.

MC: Can you remember when the idea of Ace Attorney first came to you? How did your bosses respond to the idea of a lawyer-based adventure game when you first described it to them?

ST: It was in 2000 when Mr Mikami said I could make my own game and my original idea was a fairly typical adventure with a detective as the main character. Most mystery adventures have the player choose from a number of different dialogue options for their character in order to progress the story, but I wanted a new gameplay style that enabled players to deduce for themselves what was happening, rather than just selecting canned responses. I developed this into the concept of facing off against the suspect in a crime and exposing the contradictions in their statements.

I was sure my new idea would be a fun and original take on the genre, so I started to revise the main character, since a detective would be too traditional for such an original concept. I asked myself, "What kind of professional would face off against a suspect and expose their contradictory statements?" The answer, of course, was a lawyer and so the Ace Attorney concept was born.

(source, from an interview on the making of the series)

Takumi’s original concept for the game involved Phoenix as not a defense lawyer, but as a detective. The gameplay was to consist of “facing off against the suspect of a crime and finding the contradictions in their statements.” However, Takumi eventually realized that taking apart contradictions wasn’t really a detective’s job, and decided to change the protagonist to a lawyer and the setting to a courtroom instead. And thus, the game’s concept was finalized.

Janet: As you know, “Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Trilogy” is coming out world-wide this winter, and as I was brainstorming what to write about for this week’s blog, I remembered your tweets from 2010.

Takumi: Tweets from 2010?

Janet: …Well, it was a long time ago…

Takumi: ???

Janet: I-It’s OK if you don’t remember…

Takumi: …Oh, THOSE! Yes!

Janet: I remember reading them and being shocked by how different the original draft of the game’s story was – how Phoenix wasn’t even a lawyer, but a private eye!

Takumi: Yes, AA was originally supposed to be a detective game, so naturally, Phoenix was to be a private eye. But then, one day, I made a startling realization: the gameplay concept I was going for was for players to enjoy finding and taking contradictions apart, but that was hardly related to investigating or detective work at all. In that moment, I had it – I realized that the main setting for the game should be the courtroom.

Janet: That’s quite the jump, but you know, I can’t imagine this series being anything else at this point. 

(source, from an interview by Janet Hsu about the game’s early development)

During the development for the game, Takumi actually knew very little about the intricacies of the legal system--and in fact, he’s been very transparent about that fact in interviews. There’s even a story he talks about in a blog post where he was asked “shouldn’t we do some research on law before we make this game?” and agonized over it for a bit before deciding that being accurate about courtroom processes wasn’t important--what was important was that the game made the trials exciting and fun.

November, 2000. The characters were coming together, and I was working desperately on my first scenario (the current Turnabout Sisters). One day, I was asked about the one thing I didn’t want to be asked about.

“Mr. Takumi. Don’t we need to do some research on law?”

The knowledge I have about the law, pretty amounts to the one fact that in Japan we have the Roppō Zensho ('Complete Book of The Six Major Legal Codes').

“Don’t bother with that. This is a detective game. “

It should have been over with this one line, but…

“But this isn’t a detective game, it’s a lawyer game!”

“If it’s not going to be realistic, I don’t see why this should be about trials.”

“People who play this might get wrong knowledge from the game!”

“We might get sued by the Bar Association!”

“They’ll start complaining!”

…Gyakuten Saiban (Ace Attorney GBA) is simply a “mystery game.”　“Being realistic” is not what is important. What’s important is emphasizing, and recreating the unique “atmosphere” and “tension” of the courtroom. That is why the judge uses a gavel, even though no judge uses that, and why Naruhodō shouts "Objection!" even though nobody does that either.　This game does not need a “realistic courtroom”!

Chasing the true murderer down to the end, and then getting applauded for that in the courtroom. That feeling of thrill and excitement. It was only by February of the following year when we finally manage to recreate that in the game. The couple of months after this had happened, we looked around, got lost and troubled our minds in search for the answer of the big question of “How do we make a trial into a game?”.  Fall was passing by, and the cold winter was close upon us.

(source, from an archived blog post by Takumi)

So, realism and knowledge of law wasn’t important to Takumi during the development of the series. But there’s also the fact that Takumi has actually personally denied that the Ace Attorney series was an intentional satire or criticism of the court system at any point. In fact, according to a blog post (done as if Phoenix and Maya were reading the column and commenting on it), he actually dislikes people seeing his work this way, as he never intended the games to have any big political statements.

A major prerequisite for Gyakuten Saiban is it’s so simple “even my mother could play it”.  So there is only one point at the core of the game: “Seeing through lies”.

Naruhodō: It wasn’t even supposed to be a game about the trials at first. Mayoi: Eh! Really?! Naruhodō: “Simple” is basically all this game is about, according to TakuShū. Mayoi: What do you mean? Naruhodō: He didn’t want to add all kinds of elements for the player to think about, like alibis, tricks or about the culprit. It’d just confuse them. Mayoi: Really. Naruhodō: Basically, you can proceed in the game if you just think about where the contradiction is. He figured that with that, the controls of the game could also stay simple. Mayoi: But, but, why the trials then? Naruhodō: “A story about a detective seeing through lies” wouldn’t be any different from the other games out there. So that’s why he decided to have someone whose job is seeing through lies as the protagonist. Mayoi: So a defense attorney. Naruhodō: Occasionally  TakuShū sees magazines introducing the game as “a work that dared to take on the theme of trials”, and that actually hurts him. Mayoi: He never meant to be something as big as that…. 

(source, from the mentioned blog post)

Ultimately I see how easy it is, if you know a good amount about both Ace Attorney and Japan’s legal system, to come to the conclusion that the games were made as a dig against the latter. However, somewhere along the line, people apparently stopped seeing this as merely a theory and instead as a definite fact. Now, that doesn’t mean that the theory is entirely unfounded--given that Takumi focused only on making trials interesting and fun in the games, you could say that the games work as an light, comedic parody, not meant to make any political statements. And hey, maybe there’s something I missed--maybe there were other people working on the series who did have significant knowledge of law and wrote some parts of the games as intentional satire of the system. Again, if anyone has evidence of this, don’t hesitate to provide it. But with what I know, I don’t think going “well actually” to people who point out the ridiculousness and unfairness of Ace Attorney’s court system is necessary. It’s simply that way to make the games more fun.

[strangergrove]

COLLEGE!AU TIPS/INFO

Hey everyone! I love college!AUs and know some people may want to write one but do not feel confident doing so because they haven't been to college, or maybe just want some more information. Now not all of this will apply to all colleges/universities of course, but I wanted to give as much as I could. (For reference, I went to the University of Minnesota) This is meant for giving an idea of general college life and things that might be fun to add to a story, so I haven't added the more technical things, but I can if you guys want that.

ORIENTATION WEEK

Freshman arrive a week before everyone else to get settled in and learn the ropes (no classes yet, just events)

You get a student ID that's required to enter the dorms and higher security classrooms (ones with expensive equipment) You can also put money on it and use that at cafeterias and campus stores

They took all the freshman to Target after-hours (so we were the only customers) so we could buy groceries and anything we forgot to bring before school started

They also brought us to the Mall of America (because it was five minutes away) so we could go on all the rides and visit Sealife for free (the shops were closed down, though, so no shopping) I think it was supposed to be a chance to make friends before classes started. I don't know, but it was fun

DORM LIFE

I didn't have a roommate so I can't comment on what that was like (when applying for dorm living, we were asked if we preferred to have a roommate or not. I didn't want one and therefore lived in a single-occupancy room)

I did, however, have a sink mate (our single-occupancy rooms had this weird thing where two of them were joined by a tiny room that had nothing but a sink and mirror in it. The doors locked from the outside so the other person couldn't get into your room if you had it locked. Some people left their doors open so they basically had a roommate while getting to have separate rooms) I know this is probably unique to my dorm (because it's really weird) but it's also fun and could make for interesting scenes

At the end of every year you had to reapply to live in the dorms and you were given the option to stay in your room, change rooms but keep the same roommate (you and your roommate both had to apply for this option, of course) or change rooms and roommates

Rooms with only 1-2 people did not have their own bathrooms. There were shower stalls in the bathrooms that you could use. This lead to a lot of people walking around in robes or towels in the halls.

The cafeteria food was not included in the price of the dorm. You either had to buy a meal plan (X number of meals a month) or pay per meal at the door. If you had the meal plan, they scanned your student ID. You were allowed like 5 guest passes or something

There was a computer lab in the dorm with printers you could use, but rarely anyone went there

There was a laundry room in the basement. You had to scan your student ID to pay for the washer and dryer (ours was broken and let you do it for free) If you weren't down there to transfer or collect your laundry as soon as it was done, some people would take all of your clothes and just throw them on the table (even if there was already a pile of clothes there) because washer and dryer space was limited. So laundry at 2 in the morning was usually safest

CLASSES

I biked everywhere because our campus was huge and it was like a 15 minute walk minimum between my classes (sometimes a half hour if I had to walk to the stadium downtown) so biking was a life saver (biking in the snow was hilarious and difficult)

Driving anywhere near campus was a nightmare. Therefore, there were free shuttle busses to take you to different parts of the campus (most of the campus was in Minneapolis but part was in St. Paul.)

I had classes start as early as 7am and run as late as 9pm. My longest classes were 4 hours. Most common length was 2 hours

Only some teachers took attendance (usually in small classes) others passed around a clipboard to sign your name and prove you were there

For each hour in-class you expect 2-4 hours of homework that day

Most of my classes were Monday/Wednesday/Friday for lectures and Tuesday/Thursday for other classes. Once-a-week classes could be any day (and were usually the really long classes)

In high school you can take Advanced Placement classes and test into higher class levels (and earn credits toward a certain subject) This means if you leave well, you can take fewer prerequisite classes and fewer classes that have nothing to do with your major. This also means you may be able to graduate early (I graduated a semester early from this and taking way too many credits per semester)

In our university, any credits above 15 each semester were free (I took 18-19 each semester to take advantage of this) The required amount of credits to be determined full time was either 12 or 13, but they recommended 15 to be in track to graduate in 4 years (assuming you were going for a bachelor's like I was)

FREE TIME

There are tons of student groups ranging from support for foreign students to writing clubs to learning a certain language to capture the flag (which we played at midnight) These groups are amazing and a great way of meeting like-minded people

We had an event every year called Spring Jam where they had all kinds of vendors come, they threw parties and events, and even a concert

Our dorm hosted events for every holiday (Yule ball, haunted house, etc.)

We had a student union center with all sorts of resources for students, but also a theatre, cafeteria, game room (with bowling alley, great food, video games and pool tables you could rent by the hour, and trivia night every Thursday) and great hall for concerts and events

There was a bar called The Library, so any time anyone said they were "going to the library" they got suspicious looks

There were also a ton of on-campus jobs specifically for students, so you could submit your class schedule to them and they would schedule your shifts around it

If you want more information on anything, please don't hesitate to leave a comment/ask/dm! Also, if you have anything you'd like to add, please feel free.

I will update this if I think of anything else, so please check the notes for mentions of updates.

[akechicrimes]

Prompt 19 for Shuake? I read it and my brain immediately “̶A̶̶n̶̶g̶̶s̶̶t̶ Material for New Game+” (Just a suggestion)

19. “Do you want to know the hardest thing about having a soulmate? It’s not the separation in the beginning, not the endless nights lying awake, hoping and praying that someone was made for you. It’s…it’s the love. It’s too strong, and you can’t fight it. I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried…but I’m always going to love you. And I need you to know that.”

summary: goro akechi meets his soulmate akira kurusu, falls in love instantly, and immediately resolves to kill him.

When Goro is twelve, he hates two people equally: his father who he’s never met, and his soulmate who he’s never met. When Goro is eighteen, he meets Akira Kurusu, falls in love instantly, and resolves to kill him.

***

“Oh,” says Sae, when he walks into work next. “Take the day off, Akechi-kun.”

“That’s entirely unnecessary--!”

“I will be liable in court if I make you work,” says Sae promptly, and before his very eyes, starts to move case files over onto his (very small) section of her desk. “You met your soulmate, you get a whole two weeks of paid leave. Goodbye.”

“I didn’t meet my soulmate,” says Goro, trying very very very hard not to snarl.

“You’ve got lovesick all over your face,” Sae replies.

Goro immediately pulls out his phone and checks himself in the front view camera, because Goro’s only dedicated entire years of his life to having perfect, flawless control over his face and public image and it’s simply not possible that one scruffy-haired teenaged boy who probably doesn’t even wear deodorant could undo all his hard work, but no, Sae’s right, Goro’s got this hideously piteous wide-eyed fawning look like he’s some kind of blindly dedicated fangirl star-struck over a local celebrity. Goro has the sudden compulsion to break his phone, and maybe get rid of Akira Kurusu’s phone number while he’s at it.

“Enjoy the honeymoon period,” says Sae. “Don’t come back or I’ll get sued.” She thinks about it. “I think you may have to still go to school. You seem to have met your soulmate unusually young, so you may want to check if your school has a policy on it.”

“Right,” says Goro. His fists curl; the leather gloves creak. “I’ll... go, then. If anything happens with the Kamoshida case--”

“I will not call you before two weeks is up.”

“How... very kind of you,” says Goro with determined pleasantry, as if she’s not booting him off the very case that Goro worked for two years to have an opportunity to even look at, not to mention the case that Shido will have his head for if Goro screws up.

Maybe Sae hears it in his voice, because she pauses, and gives him the neutral look that could very well pass as her smile. “When your leave is up, the case will still be here. You only get to meet your soulmate for the first time once. It’s a special time. You could try to enjoy it.”

Just then, Goro’s phone buzzes with a text from--ugh--Kurusu, speak of the soulmate devil: My school just told me to take the day off because of soulmate stuff, is that legal?? Goro’s heart jumps. Sae does smile then, in that smug, triumphant way she does when she’s just won a legal case. “Have fun,” she says, and in the reflection of Goro’s phone screen, he can see himself smiling against his will.

***

There’s nothing for it. Goro’s just going to have to kill Kurusu. Or put him in jail, or make him go psychotic, or hand him over to Shido or his cleaner friend for disposal. Whatever works. But Goro cannot continue on with this shackle around his throat.

Life is a series of unfreedoms: first you can’t choose who you’re born to, sometimes strung up with a bunch of birth complications, possibilities carved away from you by the map of your genetics and DNA predispositions. Then all the things you can’t afford: maternity leave, a good diet, child care, a good preschool. More still: Duck and bow your head to the social workers, the school teachers, the bosses who want nothing more than to fire your mother for the slightest mistake. Don’t speak too loudly. Don’t make eye contact. When your mother dies, you can’t cry too loudly at her funeral or it’ll make your aunt mad. No, you can’t afford the train fare to visit her grave.

And people have the nerve to say: Oh, isn’t it romantic to have been assigned a soulmate from the moment of your birth? Isn’t it wonderful? Isn’t it reassuring to have no choice in who you love?

Isn’t it the peak of romance that one day, you just look across a TV studio and your entire life gets turned upside down? The entire insides of your head gets rewritten according to some cosmic match-maker game. All of a sudden, you’d take a bullet for some shitty kid in glasses you’ve never met. And it doesn’t matter what you want; it doesn’t matter what you need. You love him and you can’t even hate him for it.

Isn’t that romantic?

Maybe Goro shouldn’t have been surprised when the public started thinking that a group of thieves reaching inside the heart of another person and forcing them to admit their crimes could constitute as justice.

***

Shido doesn’t give a shit about Goro’s soulmate problems and also Goro would rather sit on a cactus and spin than tell Masayoshi Shido that Goro’s fucking soul is tied to the very thieves that are currently being a pain in Shido’s ass, which is to say that Shido calls him on the subway and rattles off three more Mementos targets that he wants taken out before the end of the week and Goro has no choice but to simper and nod and tell Shido yes sir, anything he wants, sir, right away, sir. Halfway through the phone call, Goro realizes that he could just tell Kurusu that Goro’s a murderer, and Kurusu, the leader of the righteous and just Phantom Thieves himself, would have no choice but to love Goro anyway, murders and all, murderer and all; and it wouldn’t even be a lie, wouldn’t even be an obligation; Kurusu would love him genuinely and sincerely and he wouldn’t even be able to stop himself, even if he came to hate himself for it. Shido hangs up on him. A nice old lady next to him says, “Did you get some good news, dear?” and Goro realizes that he’s grinning ear to ear.

***

Well, if Goro’s going to kill Kurusu, then he might as well meet the boy before he does--especially if Kurusu’s offering. Since they both have the days off and nothing better to do than to figure out what to do with the person they’ve found their soul bound to, Kurusu suggests that they meet up at some place called Leblanc, which, if Goro isn’t wrong, is the same place that Sae’s been hounding because of that child neglect case. Goro reminds himself that Kurusu has no choice but to love him because of this stupid soulmate thing, and therefore it’s patently ridiculous that Kurusu will have much of an opinion on the state of Goro’s hair. Goro fixes it anyway. He also brushes his teeth in lockable restroom in a Wild Duck Burger place. Almost leaves, then goes back and applies deodorant.

This is the stupidest thing that’s ever happened to Goro. Kurusu’s the phantom thief Goro’s trying to catch. Odds are Shido will have Kurusu killed or put in jail within the next eight months. Goro walks into Leblanc, sees Kurusu lurking in the corner booth in his school uniform, and feels his own heart do a dozen cartwheels. Oh, wow, Goro really does love him and he doesn’t even know him. This isn’t stupid. This is disgusting.

Goro isn’t familiar enough with Kurusu as a person to know what his stare means, but the man behind the bar apparently does. “Take it somewhere else, lovebirds,” he says. “Actually--for god’s sake, Kurusu, take him somewhere nice for the occasion.”

“Here is nice,” says Kurusu.

“Somewhere fancy. Geez, have some class and show your soulmate a good time.”

“Upstairs is nice,” says Kurusu.

“No it’s--ugh,” says the barista, and mutters something about kids these days as Goro considers the possibility that Kurusu is going to try and show his love by skipping straight to the part where they fuck on the first date, and Goro will have the pleasure of cutting his own soulmate’s dick off. Greatly cheered by this opportunity, Goro says his hasty goodbyes to the barista and goes upstairs, curious to see the room of the boy that he’s going to have the honor of murdering.

Goro takes the couch. Kurusu sits at the desk chair. (Not backwards, thank god.) “How good to see you again,” Goro lies cheerily. “Have you been well, since we last spoke?”

And Kurusu--Goro doesn’t know why he thought the boy from the TV station, who argued with him on live TV, would disappoint him--Kurusu looks him square in the eye and says, “The soulmate thing doesn’t have to matter.”

“Oh?” says Goro, and leans forward. Why did he think Kurusu wouldn’t make an interesting move? It’s Kurusu. Of course he’d approach the soulmate issue with the same fascinating approach that he took to justice itself. “Most people would say it matters quite a lot. Most people would be delighted to have found true love. So young, too.”

“Are you?” asks Kurusu.

Goro blinks like he’s been thrown an unfair question in a TV interview. Kurusu smiles, slow, sure.

“Not to sound like a cynic,” says Kurusu evenly, “but it doesn’t feel much like love if it’s not a choice.”

Goro’s smile widens. “Is free will a prerequisite of true love, then?”

“If it’s going to mean anything that’s worth anything.”

“Even if such free will costs you your shot at happiness?” Goro presses.

Kurusu doesn’t blink. “Would you be happy, chained to someone you love but had no choice in loving?”

Obviously fucking not, but Goro doesn’t want to hear that from Kurusu, because it makes Kurusu sound like he understands Goro, and the last thing Goro wants to hear from the boy he’s going to kill is that he’s not just Goro’s soulmate, but his soulmate for a good reason. 

“The idea of soulmates is a practically immoral phenomenon,” says Goro, so as to avoid the question. “At some point, it’s hardly any different from brainwashing or psychological manipulation, or even Stockholm syndrome. But the fact of the matter is that it’s a widely documented phenomenon, too. There’s no doubt that it’s real, and it exists, and that you and I are bound together. Speak practically, Kurusu. What are you proposing we do?” Besides just murdering you in Mementos, Goro thinks and doesn’t say.

“Pretend it didn’t happen. It doesn’t have to matter if we don’t let it,” says Kurusu. “I’m only in Tokyo until the end of this school year, too. We just have to wait until then, and then I’ll be hundreds of miles away and it won’t matter anymore.”

“You’re proposing that we outwit fate itself.”

Kurusu pushes his glasses up. Behind his hand, his lips just barely turn upwards. “Don’t think you can do it?”

Goro’s eyes narrow and his smile sharpens. “On the contrary, I’m only worried you won’t be able to keep up with me.”

“It’s a deal, then,” says Kurusu.

“We’ll choose our own paths of our own free will,” Goro agrees, “and we won’t let such a silly soulmate phenomenon determine the course of our lives.”

Kurusu’s smiles softly and takes Goro’s offered hand and shakes it. And for just a moment, Goro’s heart doesn’t feel like a besotted, weak traitor, but entirely at peace.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Wet Sugar” [Part 19 of 30]

Summary: Erik teaches Yani a lesson and change is in the air...

NSFW. Mature Audience. Smut.

"Sunshine & the rain Sunshine & the rain I'm feelin that pressure, now, now I'm feelin that same old round and round I can't go forward

I need a boost to catapult me high feels like the come up is way too tight chokin and squeezin' my life, every time"

Joi—"Sunshine & The Rain"

Yani knew Erik watched her from the security cams when she left for the night. She made sure to walk in front of all visible optics in case Neal was lurking for her too. Huntsman commenting on her relationship with Erik frightened her. Did Klaue know about it too?

The thought worried her all night when she slept at Leona's apartment. When she arrived back at the compound to cook breakfast and prep for the dinner meal, she stayed in the front house the entire time. It wasn't until the men left for the day to explore island bars that she even took a bit of time to walk down to the cove to relax. Erik was gone with the men. She had hoped that he could stay behind with her, but he made a point of driving the others into town. She asked him to pick up bottled water and extra batteries just in case they needed them.

The sky was even grayer when the men returned late in the evening. She ignored them all, including Erik. The standing freezer had an abundance of nickel-sized scallops and prosciutto. Yani cooked thin spaghetti noodles with fish sauce and fresh garlic with the scallops and tossed together an Italian salad with the thin slices of cured ham. This particular crew wasn't particular or even cared for dessert, so she watched them eat her food and quickly cleaned up after them when they were done.

She heard Erik talking to the others in the front house den. He was encouraging the men to leave early in the morning before the storm arrived, but the captain of the boat had trepidations about sailing back to Florida. Erik mentioned Puerto Rico but there was grumbling. The point became moot when one of the men turned up the view screen and the weather report was dire. The storm had grown and would pass by the island sooner than originally predicted.

The men would stay longer.

Erik sent her a text.

Go home and don't come back here until I tell you. Get to safety with your family.

She quickly texted him back.

If it gets bad, the safest place here is under the middle house. There is a large crawlspace there right under the kitchen window outside. The panic room is only for you. No one else.

Hug the baby for me.

Yani put together a to-go plate for herself and slipped away from the grounds without the men noticing.

Her Aunt and cousins made plans to stay in a shelter and she packed up pull-ups and baby food for Sydette and a small clothing bag for herself. Piling blankets in her car, she drove herself, Sydette and Twyla to the church shelter they had used since she was a child. It was better to be safe than sorry, and the other islanders who thought the same were already hunkering down for the night. As a child she had survived a Category 3 storm, so she was only slightly anxious with a Category 2 on the way.

The entire night she listened to prayers, a short sermon from the Pastor, and soft whispers from all around her as they all waited to see what the next day would bring. She dozed off around two in the morning but was abruptly woken up with Sydette clutched in her embrace as the wind howled outside the church. It was seven in the morning but darkness surrounded them.

Yani sat up and looked at Leona and Twyla.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"We were lucky. The hurricane died down and didn't even come near us. Right now we are getting the tail end of a strong tropical storm. Praise God. Them say it'll pass through by evening," Leona said.

Yani exhaled with relief.

She changed Sydette's pull up and cleaned her hands with hand sanitizer before opening up a jar of baby food.

"We should go home," Twyla said.

"I think we should stay until we know for sure it is safe," Leona said.

Yani checked her cell. Erik sent a few texts while she was asleep. It looked like he was awake all night by the number of messages he left for her and the baby. She texted him back letting him know her family's plan to stay at the church longer. She was glad that their cell phones still worked.

Food was served throughout the day and by early evening, the winds had died away leaving a summer rain and the winking of sun rays peeking through the last of the clouded sky. She packed up her things and drove back to Leona's.

There was a time-sensitive notification in her emails that jumped out at her as she contacted relatives in the states to let them know they were okay. Although cell service worked on the island, it was crackly and hard to hear when they tried calling overseas.

The email was from the University.

A nursing student had dropped out of the early summer track for three online classes and Yani was offered the spot because of her high entry test scores. She accepted quickly and took a deep breath. She was going to start school sooner than expected. It meant she could qualify for three prerequisites for the newly created nurse/midwife track she wanted to get into. It also meant she had a shot at entering the accelerated program that was opening the following Spring.

It was happening.

Her career goals were coming to fruition.

Yani took a moment sitting in front of her Aunt's desktop computer in the living room. She touched her chest and felt her heart pounding. As long as she kept up her grades she would succeed. Gratefulness swelled inside of her. The time Erik gave her to relax and do some self-study on her own made her feel confident accepting the early start. She could do this. For herself and her baby.

She grabbed her phone.

"Killmonger."

"You and the baby good?"

Hearing his voice made her eyes water. She was glad she didn't face chat him.

"We're fine. Back at Auntie's. Killmonger…I get to start school early."

"Yeah?"

She spilled out her good news and Twyla walked in on her and saw the joy on her face. Her cousin's hand rubbing her back at the news made Yani feel happy.

School would start in a week.

She was ready.

###

Erik didn't allow Yani to return to the compound until the mercs had left.

He baked her a cake to congratulate her on her early start for school, and he damn near ran to her car when she pulled onto the property with the baby. His hand gripped her neck so tight once he had her in his arms. He didn't allow Sydette to leave his side once he had her back with him. The mercs leaving along with the storm made the compound feel light and free again.

Watching Yani eat the cake he made while feeding some to Sydette calmed his nerves. Their first night back together had them all cuddled together in one bed, and he spent the rest of the week spoiling Yani with fancy food, back rubs, foot massages and nights out with her friends while he looked after the baby.

Her last night going out before she started her classes found him cooking oxtails the way Leona showed him how to do it and attempting to make a decent batch of stew peas and rice. Sydette ran around him in the kitchen of Klaue's main house while Yani got showered for her evening of fun. He made the food for Yani's return because she was always starving after a late night out.

Packing the food up into the fridge, he gathered Sydette's overnight bag and carried the baby into the master bedroom.

"Aye Sweet Pea, say bye-bye to Mama. Kiss!" Yani said holding out her hands for Sydette.

Draped in a fluffy white bathrobe and face unmade, Erik watched Yani give smooches all over Sydette's face.

"Be a good girl for Twyla," she said.

"Be back," he said.

Taking Sydette away from her, Erik drove to Leona's and handed the baby over to Twyla. By the time he made it back to the compound, Yani had on her make-up and her clothes…

"The fuck you wearing?"

She stood in front of the master bedroom vanity mirror primping and smoothing oil onto her platinum-colored hair. Face beat like a Boss Bitch, her eyes dragged away from her own visage and gazed at him.

"What you mean?"

"Bend over."

Yani leaned forward slightly and the short form-fitting white shirt she was wearing like a mini dress raised up and he could see the underside of her ass cheeks clear as day.

"Nah…nah…put some pants on or get something else on—"

"Serious?"

She sucked her teeth at him.

"You ain't got no panties on—"

"Yes, I do."

She lifted up the dress higher and he saw silky white boy shorts.

Erik twisted up his lips. He didn't want to be that dude. He didn't want to sound or look like an insecure pooh butt. Women could wear what they wanted. He appreciated women who dressed sexy and were confident in that sexiness.

However…

"Yani, these niggas be ruthless in the club. Why you gotta have so much ass out? You know they gonna push up on you…I can see your cheeks, girl—"

"Barely. Just tell me you don't wahn mi grindin' on niggas—"

"I don't want you grindin' on niggas with that dress on."

"I'm not changing clothes."

She put her hand on her hip and her eyes challenged him to say different.

He fell back and watched her slip on her heels and grab her small purse.

"Who's picking you up?"

"Lesonne. I'm catching a cab back if I get tired early…stop trippin'. It's really not that short…"

His eyes dragged down to her thighs. He could see the tops of them. The dress shirt flared out on the sides hanging low enough to cover her hips, but the cut still showed a lot from the front and back.

Let her show off in peace.

The click-clack of her silver heels on the tiled floor broke him out of his thoughts of making her stay home with him. He seriously thought of going with her, but she was so bubbly gossiping with her girlfriends that he had to figure out why he was so agitated about a dress. A stupid dress he would've lusted over himself had he seen her in a club with it on. He would've been one of the men pushing up on her if he didn't know her.

She checked her phone.

"They're on their way," she said.

He followed her up to the main gate of the compound, and the longer they walked with her ahead of him, the more time he had to look at her hips twisting as she walked, her thighs all out teasing him. Erik felt that gnawing need to control what was happening. He reached out and stroked the right curve off her ass.

"Don't have them dudes—"

She brushed his hand away from her body.

His eyes narrowed and he pulled her arm back toward him.

"Are you listening to me?"

"I'll be a good girl."

She said the words, but the twist of her lips told him otherwise. He reached behind her and slapped her ass. Hard.

"Ow!"

She punched him in his chest.

"I'll be up waiting for you."

"I may not be back until early tomorrow."

Now he was really irritated.

"So what was the point of me taking Sydette to your Aunt's? We were supposed to have a grown- up night together before you start school—"

"I told you that I wasn't sure when I would be back—"

"You said no later than one or two."

"Well, it may be later than that—"

"So we not fucking?"

She checked her cell and fixed the thin white belt that cinched her waist.

"We'll see how I feel when I get back."

She rubbed his arm and turned around to show him her backside. Jiggling her cheeks, she giggled at him with her teasing.

"See, now you're being mean," he said.

He took his flat palm and smacked the shit out of her rump. She yelped and rubbed her ass.

"Save that for when I get—"

He yanked her panties down and slapped her vulva.

"Killmonger!"

Her hands tried to block his.

"Take them off."

"They're going to be here—"

"Take them off."

They heard Lesonne's car roll to the front of the gate, music blaring, tires screeching to a halt. Yani's phone vibrated in her purse. She pulled it out.

"Tell her you'll be out in a minute," he whispered.

Her fingers swiped her phone screen and she put her cell back in her purse.

"Panties."

Yani stepped out of her tiny boy shorts and held them. He moved up against her and traced his finger along her lips, the red matte lipstick rich on her mouth. He bent down and kissed her, serving her his warm tongue and he felt her body go limp against his.

Slipping two fingers between her legs, he separated her folds. She tugged on the bulge in his jeans. Inserting his fingers into her pussy, he thrust in and out slowly making her squirm. Her hand made his dick lift up so that it pointed at her.

"You wore that dress just to fuck with me," he whispered.

Her eyes were glassy and her pussy was dripping. The sticky fluid from her body made squishy sounds. He kept manipulating her folds until her legs shook. She vacillated between biting her lips, staring down at his fingers, and closing her eyes as he varied the depth and speed of his digits inside of her.

"Erik…fuck…"

"You come home at a decent hour so I can get in all this. Hear?"

Yani bit her lips as she tried to stifle the tiny groans coming from her mouth.

"I should fuck you right now, right here," he said.

"They're waiting…"

"So."

"Huuhnnn…"

Her hands rested against his chest, her warm fingers, pushing him back.

Hooking his fingers, Erik tapped on her walls and let his thumb flick over her clit.

"I should pick you up and let you slide down this dick. Fuck you standing up—"

"Stop!"

Yani removed his fingers from her slit and stepped away from him.

"Let me get going. I'll let you have it all when I get back."

He spun her around and pushed her against the gate. Dropping to his knees he pulled her soft ass cheeks apart and shoved his entire face into her pussy lips.

He heard Yani's hands slam against the metal gate bracing herself and she pushed her backside out giving him even more access to her private parts. Sliding his tongue along her outer labia, he licked his bottom lip that was wet with saliva.

He heard faint sounds escape her mouth as she tried to keep quiet as her friends waited on the other side of the gate. Shoving his tongue deep inside of her, Yani rocked her hips back to smash her ass into his face and he loved it. He gripped his dick through his pants and squeezed his balls to keep himself from cumming. He wanted to be knee-deep in her walls when he did that.

Removing his tongue, he let Yani's ass strike his face, getting his beard drenched with her sweet fluids. He had her soaking wet. It was time to make her pussy submit. Erik became a flurry of fingers and wet tongue kissing as he licked her engorged labia like icing off a cake. Bathing her pussy with his saliva, he dragged his tongue along all the sensitive parts that made her melt in his mouth.

"Daddy gon' chop this peach up when you get back."

He felt the heavy throbbing weight between his legs and before the surge from his balls could overtake him, Yani shuddered while his lips sucked on her clit, her release making her plump vulva spasm.

"Pussy sloppy, baby…"

He licked up all the excess juices that poured from her and kissed her folds gently, his full lips pressing against her skin, still feeling the slight spasms from the tail end of her orgasm.

"Watch yourself," he said.

She pulled her panties back on while he stood up and adjusted his dick. He was so horny for her.

"Just gonna leave Daddy like this?"

She rolled her eyes and he opened the gate for her.

His erection grew more rigid as he watched her walk away from him and get into the car.

Such a tease.

###

Erik surveyed some gun schematics on his laptop. It was nearing midnight and he was restless. He had tried to watch porn earlier, but none of the women he saw online excited him enough to rub one out. All he had eyes for was Yani and that mini dress. He took out some weed he got from Kendall and rolled a tight one. The baby wasn't there so he felt cool about indulging.

His cell buzzed and when he checked it, there were a series of pictures that Yani sent him. A few group shots with her friends, but a few with men at the club posing with her crew, and sure enough, that fucking dress was doing too much.

He went back to looking at gun designs and another text blew up his phone.

A video.

Yani and her girls dancing, but Yani was winding on some Rasta looking clown who was pressed up against her.

"See, this the shit I was talking about," he grumbled.

It didn't matter. He was going to use up a whole bottle of lube when she came home. A long drag on his herb had him toasted. Shit was potent as fuck.

The clip was only a minute long but long enough to let him know she was buzzing and showing off. Her girlfriends were egging her on and just as tipsy and feisty as she was.

He texted her.

Slow your roll, Ma. For real.

You not my daddy, lol!

She sent him more pictures, trying her best to be provocative. He didn't fall for it.

It wasn't until he saw a thirty-second video clip of another man grinding on her and patting her vulva through her dress that he jumped off the couch.

###

"We run tings. Tings nuh run we!"

The Flourgon song made Yani's hips dip, and she watched the crowd dance while she sipped on her apple martini in the V.I.P. section she reserved for her friends. It was ladies' night, and this particular club was a diverse mix of locals and white tourists. She liked the booth they were set up in. They could see what was happening around the club, but other patrons couldn't see what they were doing.

All of her friends were happy for her, and she was cutting up in the club with them, feeling powerful and ready to take on the world. Bottle service was popping and she was given extra drinks for free because of her connection to Kendall who had performed there the previous weekend.

The music switched to R&B and Yani followed her friends onto the floor and they became ridiculous with their dancing. She kicked off her heels and swung them in her hand as she downed shots and sang off-key to the music with her girls.

She took out her cell and took more video shots to send to Erik. She posted two pictures on her social media page of the group shots she had in their V.I.P. booth. On her way back to her section, she stopped by the bar to order hot wings and potato poppers to snack on and soak up the liquor in her belly.

Stepping near her booth, Lesonne tugged on her arm.

"Is that your man?"

Yani was confused by the question until she saw Erik bee-lining his way toward her. His lips were tight when he reached her group.

"There she is, Miz fatness."

The gruff island voice startled Yani as a man she had danced with earlier rubbed up against her, his hand sliding around her waist, his locs falling against her cheek.

In front of Erik.

Her man's eyes lowered to stare at the stranger's hand and Yani moved up on the single step that led to her booth to separate herself from the man. Her friends filed behind her, their eyes taking in the whole scene.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Erik shoved past the other man, his shoulder knocking him aside.

"Aye!"

"Fuck you want?" Erik said.

The stranger looked Erik up and down, and what he saw made him move along without another word.

Yani's friends stood away from them, leaning against the railing that separated their section. They looked out onto the dance floor. The tone of Erik's voice made Yani nervous.

"Why yuh here?"

She eased him into a corner of their section where no one on the floor could see them too well. But her friends could hear everything.

"You tryna be too cute. That's why I'm here. Got niggas touching your pussy in public—"

Yani heard her friend Milah let out an "Ooh…I knew it."

His eyes were on her dress again.

"Please. Don't make a scene, man. Not here. We're having a good time. You didn't need to come down here to tell me that. Coulda texted—"

"Nah, you wanted this attention."

His eyes were blazing. She caught a whiff of weed from his breath.

Lesonne placed a shot glass into Erik's hand.

"Drink up. It's a celebration," Lesonne said.

Erik tossed back the tequila and Yani moved over to the railing to watch the crowd and divert Erik's attention. She was shocked when she felt his palm strike under her ass. He pressed up against her and let his hands grip the railing, trapping her there. His hot breath tickled her ear as he leaned in to whisper.

"Didn't I tell you to watch yourself before you left? You think I was playing?"

"It was nothin'."

His hand reached down and clutched at her mound.

"He had his hand on you like this. Bitch, I can feel how fat your puss is through this dress. You let that nigga touch my shit."

Yani's eyes darted to the side. All four of her friends had their eyes glued to the dance floor, but she knew their ears were stinging from Erik's words.

"Let's talk about this at home—"

"No."

His voice was raspy against her ear.

"You tryna get fucked in the club?"

Now he was getting loud. She tried to turn around but he kept her in place, his groin shoved hard against her ass. She turned her head and his lips met hers. He wasn't gentle with her mouth, but he was gentle with his hips rocking into her. He dropped his right hand down and wiggled his fingers under the front of her dress and slipped them down her panties. The stimulation from his fingers across her plump clit had her mewling and pushing back against him. The blood in her body thrummed hot as his tongue slid against hers. No matter what happened between them, his kisses always disarmed her.

Her head dropped forward when his fingers sunk into her pussy.

"This what you wanted?"

"Ooh."

He was digging deep.

"I saw you out there dancing. All this big ass out in the open…"

Her friends pretended not to notice, but they could hear everything. Even her wet folds being assailed by his hand.

Erik removed his hand from her slit for a few seconds, and she felt him unzip his pants and lift up the back of her dress. She gripped her fingers around the railing. Two of her friends slipped away to the dance floor. The other two stood rooted, heads facing forward. Erik yanked her panties down to her knees.

Her skin felt tingly and once she felt him lining his glans against her opening, she accepted what she had done. She wanted to incite his ardor. She wanted to flaunt her body to get him enflamed for her. She wanted him begging for her pussy. At home.

But no.

He drove all the way across the island, walked into this club so he could-

"Fuck, Killmonger!"

His dick stretched out her opening, and from the angle he entered her, the head of his dick tugged down on her clit and the sensation shot out a hot ripple of pleasure up to her nipples and down to her toes.

From the floor, if anyone looked up, they would simply look like a couple hugged up watching the action. Erik kept his hands gripped on her waist as he rocked into her.

"Fucking slut."

His words slurred in her ear.

"Look at your friends. Making them watch Daddy fuck you like this."

Her eyes flicked over to glance at Milah and Lesonne who stayed behind. Milah's eyes were brazen and aroused watching Yani get pounded in public. Her eyes trailed down Yani's body until she was staring at Erik's dick pumping in and out of her.

"Shit, Yani. Yuh nasty. Him beating up that pum pum," Milah said.

Erik dragged her over to the back of the VIP section and away from her friends, his dick still rooted deep within her. He grabbed her arms to balance himself and really started to thrust. Yani chewed on her lips trying to keep quiet, but a few cries got out, drowned by the loud bass thudding throughout the club. Her balance was thrown off when he released her arms and she reached out to hold onto the wall.

Erik yanked her underwear back up as he pulled out.

"Be still."

She whimpered as he placed his erection between her thighs and jerked off his load into her panties. He swallowed the grunts in his throat as the last of his semen spilled out.

"Pull your panties back up," he said.

Yani did as she was told, her soaked underwear sticking to her vulva. She smoothed down her dress and still felt the thumping of her clit. She turned to face him and he zipped up his pants.

"Let somebody touch my shit now, girl."

He looked at her friends who avoided eye contact with both of them and left her standing there. They watched him move through the crowd, his swagger so acute that Yani had to pour herself a glass of champagne and gulp it down.

Panties filled with cum and a face filled with embarrassment, Yani said nothing to Milah or Lesonne.

###

Erik was reading in bed when Yani returned to the compound. He'd been at the house for over an hour before she came back.

She showered and crawled onto the bed next to him. He ignored her, even though she was butt naked. After a time, he put the book on the nightstand and looked at her.

"Rest of the night was cool?"

"Yeah."

His eyes tried not to stare at her body too much, but he couldn't help it. Her face looked pouty. He pinched one of her nipples.

"You fucked me in front of my friends."

"So. They didn't look bothered by it. They say something?"

"Not really."

"You need to apologize to me."

"For what?"

"Making me come out there. I had shit to do here. But you got out of pocket. Stole some work time from me."

Her fingers stroked his naked chest tracing the skin between his keloids.

"I'm sorry."

"Nah. Not like that. You know what I want."

He pulled the covers back from his body and lifted up his dick. Her fingers clasped it and she lowered her head and wrapped her lips around it.

"Damn," he hissed.

Once she had him standing at attention, her fingers slipped between her legs and she fondled her clit.

"Get it ready for me. You got some making up to do."

Her mouth sucked and licked up and down the sides of his length and he groaned from her loving tongue swiping against his balls. He reached for the lube next to his book and slathered his dick with it.

"Turn around. Sideways," he directed her.

He tilted his hips to the left slightly and Yani lowered her ass, her fingers holding open her labia.

"Slide down Daddy's dick, baby."

She was on her hands and knees and he had the pleasure of watching her entire side view as she bounced on his dick. His left hand rested on her ass cheek.

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Show me."

Her breasts jiggled and he reached over to play with her big nipple. She had a steady rhythm.

"You gon' let some other nigga touch my pussy again?"

Her lips curled up and she shook her head vigorously when he started thrusting up into her.

"What? I didn't hear you."

Her hand reached back and touched his side.

"Ooomph…Daddy!"

He was stretching her out real good.

"Answer me."

He slapped her backside. She leaned down on her elbows and pressed her face into the mattress. That wouldn't do. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to face him. She plucked on her nipples and pushed her breasts together for him. Her pussy was squeezing him while he let her do most of the work. He slapped the side of her hip and her eyes shot open.

"You betta answer me—"

"I won't let no one touch my pussy…just you…just you."

"This pussy is so good…you liked it when Daddy fucked you at the club, huh?"

"Yeah."

"You liked your friends watching me dick you down, huh?"

Her pussy clenched around him.

"Yeah, you liked that shit. You liked them seeing what you get all the time. Daddy's big dick all in your fat pussy."

She was wailing as she bounced on his dick. He played with her nipple and watched his thickness split her good. He lifted up and held her back, widening his thighs so he could get his balls all up in her ass. He held her in that position for a long time, punishing her folds until she was begging him to let her cum.

"Don't you ever let me catch you with some other man's hand on this pussy. Hear me?"

"Yeah!"

Erik pulled out and pushed her onto her stomach. He climbed on top of her and inserted his dick once more. He gave her slow thrusts until her fingers were clawing the pillows.

"Cum on me, Yani."

She screamed his name and fell apart on his dick. He didn't wait for her to finish as he sped up his pace and then pulled her on her knees so he could watch her rock back onto his length.

"Had all my cum in your panties…"

"Yeah…"

"You liked that, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

He groaned out loud.

"Cum in me, Daddy."

"Whatchu want Daddy to do? Tell me again…"

"Cum in my pussy…"

"…fill your pussy up?"

"Make a big mess, Daddy…"

"Like I did at the club?"

"Yeah."

"Wet your pussy up like I did those panties?"

"Please—"

"Tell me—"

"I want you to wet my pussy up. Make a big mess like you put in my panties—"

"That's what you want?"

"Yeah."

"You like it when I make you sloppy—"

"Yeah."

"Give you a big cream pie—"

"Mmmhmmm."

"Ah shit-!"

It never failed. Talking to her while watching the sexy dimpling in her ass, her thighs striking his, it never took long for him to let go whenever he was ready. He ejaculated, the tight pulling on his balls letting him know he had emptied out another huge load.

He stayed in her pussy for the rest of the night, fucking her until she fell asleep in his arms. The bottle of lube was empty like he thought it would be.

###

Erik worked hard to get a workable mock-up of the weapons he wanted to convert with the vibranium. He found it hard to concentrate for the last few weeks because he and Yani had both been busy. Sex was infrequent, and she was gone from the compound a lot. He thought her online classes would keep her close, but it actually took her away. She started a study group with a few other online students on the island and met with them three times a week. Her courses were time-consuming and her energy was spent on assignments, getting high grades on her quizzes and tests, and caring for Sydette. She was mentally drained by the end of the day and was often knocked out by the time he joined her in bed at night.

He felt displaced.

Their life had been perfect, but now he was losing her to school.

When her midterm rolled around and they were easing into August, she dropped some news on him that upset him. The apartment she was going to share with her roommate was available and the leasing agent wanted her and her roommate to take it right away or risk losing it to another tenant. She wanted to move out right away. Her roommate was ready to get the apartment too.

She told him while he took out braids from Sydette's hair on the porch.

Yani was going to settle on the other side of the island with the baby, leaving him at the compound alone.

As always, when it rained, it poured.

While Yani went out for several days with her roommate to buy furniture and cookware for her new apartment, he received word from Klaue: he was coming back to St. Thomas.

Early.

###

Chapter 20 Here

Tag List:

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@tyees @eye-raq @writerbee-ffs

[benhardyaf]

WHEN IN LONDON | PART ONE | H.O

Summary: Elliott moved to London with her boyfriend and a plan. When she loses one she didn’t realise it would mean losing the other. Maybe Harrison can make her realise that no plan is perfectly fine. 

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Harassment? (put your hands up if this happens to you every damn weekend!!! no means no gd)

A/N: Hi! So this is the second fic I had planned for Haz but it seems to be a quicker write so it’s coming out sooner than I thought. Please let me know what you think of it, any feedback is welcome. Also if you wanna be tagged in this series just ask??? lol I’ve never done this tag thing and probably no one wants to continue it but oh well. Enjoy!

It had been a week since I’d broken up with Dylan, but almost two months since I realised I didn’t want to be with him. It wasn’t an easy thing to do; we’d been dating since we were 17 years old and we moved to a different country together. He wasn’t a bad boyfriend, he loved me, doted on me at times, treated me right. But I couldn’t stop imagining what my life would be like without him in it. I didn’t wait eagerly on the tube home to our flat just to see his face, I didn’t get butterflies in my stomach when he told me he loved me, I didn’t feel the need to accompany him to his work dinner events. We were friends - that was all there was to it. Sure, I loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him. 

Last Thursday night was difficult. He was surprised, not sure he thought we would ever break up. We were comfortable. I don’t think Dylan had spent a day in his life uncomfortable. He had a wealthy family, lots of connections, a good body and a smile that lit up a room. Most things came very easily to him. He told me I could keep the flat, which was so nice. I was the one who’d broken up with him, shouldn’t I move out?

Of course, keeping the flat was causing me a little bit of stress. When it was the two of us, it was easy to pay the rent of a two bedroom with two full time salaries. Now, I had to fork out that cash on my own, which was going to be difficult. 

That was how I found myself, a week after turning single, walking into a Luau themed bar on a Friday night to meet people I worked with for a few drinks. I’d walked from the Tube station and I already regretted the shoes I was wearing - nothing too flashy, just some leopard print sandals - but the strap was digging into my heels. I flattened my denim skirt as I looked for their table, I was feeling a little nervous to see everyone. Despite knowing Dylan and I weren’t meant to be together, it was a lot easier having him by my side as a comfort. 

After pushing through dozens of people and dodging tables with tiki torches lighting up drunk faces, I spotted a group of people by the far wall. I recognised Chloe and Jesse first. They were my closest friends at work, I shared an office space with them. They waved at me and I walked over to them quickly.

“Elliott, you look cute.” Chloe pinched my arm, smiling up at me. “Sit down and grab a drink.” I smiled my thanks, falling easily into conversation with the group and settling my stomach slightly for the night. 

I giggled along helplessly to something one of the boys had said, throwing my head back in exaggeration. I was a few drinks in and at this level I thought everything was funny. Our group had dwindled in the hour that had passed, leaving me alone with Jesse, Chloe and a few of the other guys. In my overstated snickering, I slightly lost balance and bumped into someone walking behind me. I turned around to apologize but they weren’t looking at me, they were looking at Ryan, who worked on our third floor, and had a very strange look on his face.

“I’m so sorry.” I said, still smiling. “I emote outwardly.” The person I had knocked looked at me now. He had very short hair that looked recently shaved and dark brown eyes. 

“Not a problem, love.” He smiled back. Luckily I hadn’t knocked any of the beers out of his hands. He walked a few more steps and sat down at his own table, which was placed next to ours. He handed out beers to his friends, who began chatting with him. 

I turned back to my group, thinking about the encounter I’d just had. The guy was attractive, that much was obvious. And I had always loved British boys, not that I’d ever had the opportunity to be with one, seeing as I’d been with Dylan the whole time I’d lived in England. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind until that moment, but I was now free to sleep with whoever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I was single. It was a freedom I could get used to. 

Another hour passed and more people began to leave until it was just Jesse, Ryan, Chloe and I. We were chatting about nothing in particular. I would zone out of the conversation every now and then, fiddling with the paper straw in my Pimms that had started to get soggy. 

“Elliott.” I was munching on the cucumber soaked in alcohol, not listening to the boys trying to get my attention. “Elliott!” Jesse waved his hand in front of my face. 

“Sorry, zoned out.” 

“Ryan was asking when you broke up with Dylan.” Jesse took a sip of his drink. I told him and Chloe about the break up the day after it happened and they got to hear all the gory details, but I hadn’t really talked about it much to anyone else from work. 

“Oh.” I frowned, looking down again. This sort of conversation could really put a damper on my good mood. “Last week.”

“Why?” Ryan moved closer to me, the sun was setting behind him and I moved to put my sunglasses on to cover my eyes. 

I shrugged my shoulders, wanting the questioning to end. “Sometimes things just end.”

Ryan nodded his head, his hair falling into his eyes. I suppose he was objectively good looking, but I’d never really cared for him. His arrogance was something I could never look past. Chloe talked about him constantly, and how his blue eyes and black hair combo could do things that no other man ever could. I often told her that she should have higher standards if her only prerequisite was black hair and blue eyes. She thought I was crazy.

I stopped listening to the conversation again after that, paying more attention to my drink and feeling a little uncomfortable. Jesse didn’t mean any harm but I couldn’t stop thinking that he could have quelled the subject completely before it even came to me. Chloe seemed to eat up the words that were coming out of Ryans mouth, her eyes never leaving him. 

I came to when I felt a palm slip onto my thigh. I looked at Jesse, who had both his hands on the table, ripping up the label of his beer bottle, then to Ryan, who smirked as he continued telling whatever story he was in. I felt like throwing up.

I excused myself and went to the bathroom. The spot on my thigh where Ryans hand had sat was burning. I knew that technically I could do whatever I wanted, I had no attachments anymore. But everything about Ryan screamed dirty to me. I didn’t like the way he stared at girls, I didn’t like the way he talked about himself and I didn’t like the way he took credit for other people's work. I threw some water on my face and tried to cool down. The warm summer air seemed to triple in heat and I was feeling very flushed. I spent a few minutes using the water to calm the redness in my cheeks and went back to the table, deliberately choosing to sit on the other side of the table next to Chloe. 

“You look a little stressed. Are you okay?” Chloe asked me quietly, taking the last gulp of her drink and placing the empty glass on the table. I nodded at her, not confident my voice would come out properly. Chloe shrugged and went back to the conversation the boys were having.

Eventually she decided she needed another drink and got up to get the group a round. 

As soon as she left, I felt worried again. I felt the stares of the boys on me as they expected me to join in, but I couldn’t make myself focus on the discussion. The night was ruined. I told the boys that I was tired and was going to go home and was met with protestations. 

“Just stay a bit longer.” Jesse whined, pouting his bottom lip. 

I laughed half-heartedly, shaking my head at him. “It’s been a really long week. I need a good sleep.” 

Jesse nodded. Ryan looked at me, I couldn’t really read his expression. 

“I thought we were having fun.” It wasn’t a question, he was telling me.

“Oh, yeah.” I gulped. “It’s been great.” I nodded, trying to convince myself. 

“Then don’t go.” He said, rather firmly. I had made it to the other side of the table, heading towards the door. I started to shake my head when he grabbed my hand. “You should stay.” I didn’t know what to say to him. I was trying to pull my hand out of his grasp but he had quite a tight grip on it. “Stay here.” When I looked at his face, his eyebrows were pulled into each other. He seemed angry. I tried to object but he stood up, his frame towering over me. 

I hadn’t considered him an intimidating man before. Sure, he was conceited and arrogant and rude but he had never seemed harmful. Then, though, I wasn’t sure what sort of man he really was. 

Words died on my tongue as he took a step towards me. My heart was beating a little faster. I looked at Jesse, who was confused. He didn’t do anything though. 

“I really need to get home.” I found my voice, faking a smile and hoping I sounded sincere. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow.” I took a step backwards, hoping he’d let go of my hand. Ryan was about to say something when a voice cut in.

“Hey, mate.” I looked to the owner. It came from the table next to us, with the guy that I’d bumped earlier. The person speaking was sitting across from him, frown plastered on his face and eyes so blue they seemed to glow. The dying sun was on his right, leaving his skin glowing golden. “Leave her alone.”

I looked at the rest of the table, each face was turned towards me. There was a litter of different expressions, one of disgust, one of anger, another of judgement. I didn’t know what my face looked like, but I hoped it wasn’t betraying my panic. 

The nice brunette guy from earlier spoke up. “Not sure you can take the hint so we’ll spell it out for you: she’s not interested.” Hums of agreement followed his statement. Ryan didn’t release his grip on my hand though. 

“What the hell does this have to do with you?” Ryans teeth were gritted. 

There were a few chuckles from the table. “God.” The boy with blue eyes ran a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly. He looked annoyed. “Nothing really.” He rolled his eyes.

“But it can involve us if you want it to.” One of the boys next to him chimed in. It wasn’t really a threat. The brunette who had said it was even smiling. His tone wasn’t menacing and he didn’t look like he wanted to even get up from his seat. But the implication was there - we will not tolerate this. 

Ryan looked across the table, noticing that he was completely outnumbered. Finally, he released my hand. I looked down and could see a red ring around my wrist where his fingers were. I then looked to Jesse, who had a look of shock on his face. 

I couldn’t find any words so I just looked at all the boys around me, unsure of what to do next. Ryan had had enough and stormed off to leave, throwing his shoulder into mine on the way. I winced slightly but didn’t react otherwise. 

Chloe arrived at that moment with three drinks in her hand. “What did I miss?” She looked around at all the tense faces. “Where’d Ryan go?” She placed the drinks down and walked up to me. Still no one had spoken. “What’s happening?” She half whispered, seeing that Jesse wasn’t going to say a thing she hoped I would. I shook my head at her, unsure of what to say.

“You know what, I’ve never liked Ryans.” The brown-eyed boy from the table next to us announced. The others laughed. I looked at them all, smiling slightly myself. 

Chloe just looked even more confused. I shook my head, trying to get a hold of myself. “Ryan, um.” How do I put this lightly? “He left.” Explaining nothing seemed easiest.

“Oh, okay.” She still looked confused, but didn’t push the subject. 

I didn’t know what to do so I just sat down again, hoping Chloe would sit as well and we could forget about everything. Thankfully, she did. But as soon as we were about to continue our night, Jesse stood up. “I need to go.” 

I hurt me a little that he didn’t want to sit with me. I didn’t know what to say to him. Had I offended him? Was he angry at me for making a scene? I felt so guilty, but also embarrassed that so many people had witnessed everything. 

I briefly looked to my left, the group of boys was talking again as if nothing had happened. They chatted and laughed and sipped on their drinks, having a great time. As I was about to look away, my eyes met one of theirs. His lips curled up in a smile and he nodded his head at me, his blonde hair shining in the sun. He raised his drink in a cheers fashion. I reached forward and grabbed my own, slightly lifting it and smiling back at him.

[lucidpantone]

Visitations Preview Chap 4: Chernobyl(s)

Not one for previews but I know some of you are locked inside and ravenous for content. It’s gonna be a few more days til chap 4 is finished but here’s a couple of puzzle pieces to keep you going. Same rules apply. Italics is the Past. If not, it's August 15th at any point in the day I chose to drop you into.

Stay safe friends! I hope this helps.

The brass beads caressed the palm of his hand with velocity.

Until the pull chain cranked the lever.

They laid there, enlightened.

The sulfur vapor bulbs color-washing the walls of their habitat in an amber glaze.

It was painfully small. Pre-war, old but in Belgium’s highly regarded art deco style. The schematics laid it out as a 1/1 with a  ¾ lavatory. It had good lighting though (a prerequisite for the artist) mainly due to the fact that it was surrounded by a couple of those ghastly mid century modern blocks with those hideous matte shine finishes that would double up as a sun ray reflector into their new apartment. Engulfing the space in a celestial limelight. They took the place on the spot because the artist said it “spoke” to him.

Their move-in date was five days after Robbe’s eighteenth birthday.

It was Sander and Robbe’s first night there.

They had spent all day moving and they were exhausted as they lay on the floor of their new apartment surrounded by cardboard boxes and some scented candles in attempt to clear out the smell of mildew. Their furniture wouldn’t be arriving till tomorrow.  

“I like these floors. What kind of wood is this?” Robbe asked curiously.

Sander turned his cheek in the opposite direction as he was laying on the floor on his back and took a guess.

“Mahogany maybe”

Sander turned back to meet Robbe’s eyes.

They had been laying like this for what felt like an eternity. Both lovers drape out on the floor in opposite directions. One with their feet facing north and another pointing south. Both finding a home in the curvature of the other’s arm as they nuzzled their heads onto the others shoulder.

The music had stopped.

“Fuck, I have to change the disk” Sander noted.

Both lovers turned their focus to their Crosley turntable in the corner of the room that was begging to be refreshed spinning aimlessly.

“Do you not want to get up?” Robbe asked Sander sweetly as he twirled his albino hair through his fingers.

“I have zero desire” Sander stated in worned out fashion.

Robbe placed a kiss on Sander’s forehead and began to collect himself off the floor to walk over to the record player. He rummaged through the vinyl case with an effort of determination. Clearly looking for a particular record. Sander was rustling in the background but Robbe wasn’t paying much attention as he thumbed passed vinyl after vinyl sleeve until he located it.

“Ahhh ha” Robbe emoted.

“What are you playing?” Sander asked.

“Wait for it” Robbe placed the turntable arm onto the disk. The lyrics surfed through the sulfur vapor.

[I, I will be king. And you, you will be queen]

Sander laughed a little and then he said, “Our song”.

[Heroes by David Bowie]

Robbe scooted back dragging his knees on the floor back to where Sander laid. His body faced north as Sander faced south. He hovered over Sander and placed a kiss on his opposing lips. The kinda kiss you only ever see in comic book movies inspired by 8 legged creatures. The one where the hero impresses his lover with the ability to find their mouth even when the world is upside down.

Sander reaches up to grab Robbe’s head and pushes his upper body off the floor without breaking the bind of their lips. Both boys are now sitting up. Sander digs his hand into Robbe’s locks and begins to navigate his body towards the wooden surface as Robbe kicks his feet from underneath him to straighten out. Sander guides Robbe’s body back onto the hardwood placing his hand behind his head to protect his skull. The lyrics of Heroes whirlpooling around the room.

Once Robbe finds the floor safely Sander breaks their kiss and says.

“In how many universes are we laying like this right now?” Robbe runs his hand through Sander’s fringe and replies.

“In infinite ones”

“Nowhere as happy as we are” Sander says as his eyes dart all over the room confirming to himself that this feeling he is feeling at that very moment is not a delusion. It's real.

“Close your eyes” Sander whispers as he places himself between Robbe’s thighs. Robbe squeezes his eyes shut but Sander places his hand over his eyes to make sure he isn’t cheating. Sander pulls out a gold ring box wrapped up in red string with a bow tied to the top and hovers it over Robbe’s head with one hand still firmly placed over his vision.

“There is something right in front of you. Try to find it”. Robbe moves his arms up scanning the air for a possible object. Sander teasing him as he moves the box in and out of his direction until he finally places it in Robbe’s hands freeing his vision. Robbe’s beautiful coffee lashes pop open. He stares at the red string box unsure what to say….

“Are you asking me to mar--” Sander shook his head side to side. Then he spoke.

“No...I mean I don’t know. Maybe…. I'm not sure. I’d be missing a Tesla if I was. All I know is I wanted you to have it and keep it safe. It belongs to you.”

Robbe pulled on the red string and the top of the box fell open Sander’s silver ring landing right over his heart. Sander grabbed the silver and slid it onto Robbe’s ring finger and once placed safely onto Robbe’s hand he kissed the top of his finger where the silver ring belonged.

“What did the artist know under the moonlight” Sander queued Robbe.

“That he was the one”

“And what did the Skater boy do in return” Sander added on.

“He stayed” Robbe deeply suspired.

Sander massaged the tip of his nose against Robbe’s in a touching display of vulnerability. He pulled back and whispered nervously.

“If you're ever scared, or you doubt me or us for any reason. Tell me that story and we’ll come back to this moment. We’ll come back to our safe place together and I’ll do the same. Promise?”

Robbe nodded and Sander proceeded in reverence to kiss Robbe’s cheek, forehead, nose, lips, every inch of his face.

“I love you”

“I love you too” Sander said leaning into Robbe's neck and kissed the new tattoo on top of Robbe’s shoulder. He giggled a little to himself.

“I still can’t believe you stole my design and used it to get your first tattoo. It was my idea. ” Sander teased.

“I didn’t steal your design. I was inspired by it and made my own custom design as a birthday present to myself” Robbe let out in a machiavellian style.

“I still can’t believe you beat me to our first tattoo.” Sander shook his head in amusement.

Robbe’s eyes widened like he just remembered something important.

“Oh I forgot to tell you that the tattoo shop was looking for an apprentice. You should go in and talk to them about it.”

“I know nothing about tattooing and I have no experience” Sander enforced.

“That’s why it's called an apprenticeship and half of it is design anyways and we both know you have the best designs.”

Sander looked up to the ceiling in a pensive gaze and then relaxed.

“Ok I’ll go tomorrow” he shrugged out lazily.

“But I guess I just never really thought of myself as someone who would enjoy tattoos. Maybe one or two but not much more than that”. Sander rattled off this thought as if it was meant to be for the withholdings of his mind but he said it out loud.

“Anyways we’re were we at…. Oh yeah the skater boy stayed.” He shot his lover a schemy smile.

Sander had been supporting himself on his elbows this entire time hovering above Robbe. They were starting to burn so he finally collapsed onto Robbe’s chest and just laid relaxed on top of him. He placed his head on the side of Robbe’s so as Robbe turned to face him they were forehead to forehead.

“And what do we say?” Sander questioned Robbe knowing he already knew the answer.

Robbe took this opportunity to wrap his arms around Sander’s neck grabbing each one of his elbow’s with the opposite hand and squeezing Sander painfully tight just like Sander loved it.

“He stays…. and” Robbe continues the story.

They say the next part of the tale in unison.

“We stay”

“If he goes” Robbe adds on.

They marry their voices together again.

“We go”

Robbe looks into Sander’s gaze for the last part. They are bound so close together at this moment their nose, mouth’s and chin’s are millimeters apart.

“If he has to fight for it” Sander asks with hesitation.

Robbe and Sander take a moment to acknowledge the importance of this final vow.

“We fight”

The lovers seal their pledge towards allegiance with a kiss.

As the embers of the candles surrounding them flicker in and out while the lyrics to heroes linger overhead like a protective halo over their union.

************************************************************************************* The strobe lights flickered in and out as the walls around him began to pulsate. The deep base trembling underneath him.It was making him nauseas or maybe it was the bottle of whiskey infiltrating his blood stream. It was beginning to ravage his body and psyche all at once. The proof torpeding into his personal yellow submarine incinerating him from within. God he was so hot, sweltering even. A heat that could only be found during the times of antebellums when white buds were king and sunburnt subjects were priced by the quick grasp of their hands. It was raw, punishing, a worn out type of heat. It reminded him of India. He wanted to go back there so badly. He hated it here. He had only been back in Antwerp for six weeks and his entire life had gone nuclear.

Robbe and him had broken up, or were on a “break” and Sander was in full blown meltdown. Taking every opportunity to get black out drunk at whatever available college party he called “fun” for the night or dive bar that didn’t attempt to cut him off whenever he got too lethargic. This was day seven in a row into Sander’s deranged journey into piety. The reactors of his mind on the precipice of nose diving into the ozone barely tethering reality but tonight would go down as the night when the bottom finally fell out. He can’t quite recall the night in its entirety but luckily the age of modernity allowed others to document its happenings for him and upload them onto various social incubators. It all started innocently enough with a game of truth or dare like all fool’s tales do. Sander being the self declared maverick tiptoed outside the lines of safety and went with a dare. A pretty blonde that had been sizing him up since he walked in dared him to kiss her and not one of those cutesy pootsy smooches but a real deep kiss. Why Sander went ahead and agreed to doing this he still doesn't really know probably a symptom of his debilitating acumen but he did it, and then he did it again, then with another girl, and then a guy. All whilst these regrets were being time capsuled  by the crowd around them and uploaded for later revisits. Sander doesn’t remember the bust up with Jens who was at the same party and witnessed all of Sander’s antics but he was told they fought and it was bad.  Well to Sander’s luck the event had been captured for him and on video. It was only a few seconds long but it was a clear take by take splice of Jens’s being pulled off Sander’s body who he had pinned to a wall while he gutted Sander out verbally for embarrassing his friend. Last thing you can hear as the filmed rolled to black was Jens screaming at Sander saying “how could you embarrass him like this”. Once again Sander will remember none of this. These parts of the night will become blind spots in his mind. All these moments will become images wrapped up in frosted cellophane. All a bit muddled, lacking in clear demarcations for identification.  The next real moment he clearly remembers is one he wishes was a blind spot. He recognized his surroundings immediately; it was a place he knew but he was there with someone he didn’t. The blonde from the party, she was sitting on top of him in the driver side backseat of his car with her shirt off as they were tangled up in a steamy makeout session. Lightening struck Sander and he shudder making him come back to himself, making him realize what the fuck is he doing. The blonde starts to grind down on him and ups the pace as she reaches for his belt when she whispers in Sander’s ear “Keep touching me, I’ve never felt something like-”. Sander violently flings her off him and opens the backseat door as the heat of his body finally tackles him to the ground and the dregs of his stomach pour out his mouth. The taste of disgust encircling him. He faintly hears the blonde mutter a ton of hate towards his direction as she slams the backseat passenger side door closed.

Sander manages to step out of the car. His motor skills in complete disarray. Barely able to stand. He finally holds himself up by holding out both arms out onto the car for support as his body convulses in dry heave after dry heave as the contents of his stomach spew out. He needs to lie down, he thinks to himself. He lays out on the grass like some fein off a high in need of resuscitation and looks up at the sky. The star surveillance looking down at him in shame and disdain. A sob begins to originate from his chest and once it starts it doesn’t stop. He thinks of Robbe and what this night is going to cost him. He rolls onto his side as he feels a gut punch to his insides as the guilt defiles him.

 Sander asks himself, was this really worth it? 

Even if Robbe had lied to him Sander had only made the situation worse. Robbe also didn’t know that Sander knew he lied but he found the paperwork. It wasn’t the lie that hurt their relationship, it was the reason why Robbe was lying to him. He kept secrets. Sander understood that the last year of Robbe’s university life was hell. Sander had been sick a lot and Robbe’s mom was also suffering so a dark shadow came over Robbe. He was quick to anger and snap at those who dared to harm Sander with their judgements. He started to keep things from Sander. Secrets. The day university decisions came out for certification programs Sander knew Robbe had applied to the best architecture programs across Europe but his heart was set on London or Italy. Decisions came out and Robbe told Sander he didn’t get into those programs but that he did get into Brussels and that he was more than happy to go there. However, Sander found the acceptance letters in Robbe’s backpack as he rummaged through it for a lighter. He did get into both programs he had just lied to Sander about it. Sander could be quick to get paranoid so he gave him the benefit of the doubt and during dinner he asked Robbe why he thought he didn’t get into those other programs. Robbe looked straight at Sander’s face and lied to him again saying he didn’t know. His renderings probably weren’t good enough. Sander put this instance in the back of his mind and thought they just needed a break from Antwerp and booked them a trip to India as an early 22nd birthday present for Robbe.  India was perfect. They were so happy there. Sander totally forgot about the lie but then they came back to Belgium and Robbe started certification in Brussels. He came back to Antwerp after his first week of school mentioning that candidates were allowed to go to London on Eramus (european study abroad) in their 2nd semester but that he had no interest in going. This sounded strange to Sander, all Robbe could talk about before is how much he wanted to go to London. So when Robbe went to shower after one of their bedroom sessions Sander looked through Robbe’s things and sure enough Robbe had filled out all the Eramus paperwork to go to London. Another lie. Sander gave Robbe the benefit of the doubt again and during breakfast he told Robbe that he should apply to go to London that it’d be good for him. Robbe looked at Sander again and lied to his face saying he just had no interest in going anymore. A lie on top of a lie. This brought forward a dark cloud of distrust over their relationship. One Sander simply couldn’t ignore, especially because he gave Robbe several opportunities to come clean and he never would. Robbe had taken it upon himself to make decisions about their relationship without discussing things with Sander. In attempts to control him.

Sander had never planned on breaking up with Robbe. The break was just to give Robbe time to think until Sander would eventually come forward and tell Robbe that he knew about the lying. That he didn’t need to hide things from him to simply protect Sander from whatever he thought he was protecting him from. Well it didn’t work out that way. Robbe was pissed and would call Sander every night in tears asking why he was doing this to them, that Sander was being selfish and just rage down the phone making Sander even angier. He wasn’t the selfish one. Sander would drink to ease his anxiety so he could build up the courage to confront Robbe but he never got to do it in the end. Day seven beat him to it.  

Sander’s sobs pulled him out of his own memories. The arrival of his lungs wheezing for air shocked his system. Sander was struggling to breathe. He sat up on the grass and a wave of guilt hit him. He was shaking and sobbing uncontrollably in between heavy wheezes. All he could think of is that he needed to hear Robbe’s voice. He stumbled back into the driver seat of his car and picked up his phone and called Robbe.

“Hello” Robbe picked up sounding sleepy.

Sander didn’t say anything as he held back sobs in the back of his throat rocking his body back and forth in the chair. Finally leaning his forehead forward on the steering wheel for support. The palm of his free hand rubbing his temple as he tried to muster up words.

“Sander….” Robbe responded again.

Sander steadied his voice as much as he could and suspired in attempts to compose himself and finally spoke.

“I miss you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too”

These words would become ingrained in Sander’s mind. This would be the last time Robbe would say I love you to him. The next time he would hear those words again from Robbe would be five days before Robbe’s 26th birthday. Four years later.

“I don’t deserve you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Sander starts to unravel as he continues to speak, wet snot dripping from his nose now. A range of high pitch sounds generating from the back of his throat as he manages to mutter out his confessions.

“I love you [a sob breaks through], Am so sorry” The last part barely audible as he cries into the steering wheel.

“Sander where are you?” Robbe’s voice is in full blown panic on the other end.

“I love you. That's all that matters” Sander is forecily coughing out all these words as tears flood out, “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Promise me?”

“I promise. Where are you right now? Talk to me please.” Sander can hear Robbe welling up on the other end. His voice breaking with concern.

Sander can’t hold onto his consciousness any longer and he finally lets his eyelids give way and passes out. The phone falls to the ground as Robbe’s voice can be heard screaming out for Sander as his face slumps onto the driver's side window, the after taste of his stomach acids doused all over his mouth and shirt. Sander’s body loses slack and his hand grazes the hazard lights on. A signal to the outside world that he was in need of rescue but it went unnoticed. The streets were hollow.

Dank.

Still.

Lifeless.

Sander doesn’t know what happened the rest of that night but as Robbe hung up the phone to call Jens to go find Sander . He saw the social notifications. His friends tagging him on videos of Sander making out with randoms but the worst of it all was the video of Sander and the blonde getting busted in the bathroom half naked about to dial it up a notch. Robbe’s heart shattered instantly. Hot tears poured out of him as he called Jens to go find Sander because he was worried he would do something stupid. Jens found him eventually and took him home to recover. The morning after would be the last voice conversation they would have for over a year. Robbe would ask if he was okay, Sander would just cry and tell Robbe how much he loved him. Robbe would say nothing more then he needed time and to please not attempt to come to Brussels he didn’t want to see him but he also made Sander promise he wouldn’t do anything stupid. Sander agreed. Robbe hung up and that's the last time they spoke until Robbe showed up at the hospital. Robbe would end up going on Eramus to London a couple of months after this incident. He wouldn’t even go back to Antwerp for Christmas break he would leave as soon as the winter semester wrapped up. He would use his time in London to rehabilitate his heart extending his stay up until the end of summer and the start of his new school year. Keeping him away from Belgium for almost ten months.

Sander would plummet into a tour of self induced atrophy that would last for a little over a year. Finally culminating into one of the worst depressive episodes of his young adult life. He would end up hospitalized for one of his longest stints yet. He didn’t know it as he hung up the phone to Robbe and wiped away his tears but his hospitalization would bring forth the miracle of his desire. His next of kin (emergency contact). Robbe would come back for him. He’d go and find Sander in the depths of his psychological warzone and drag his body out of the open field and into the tranches for safe keeping. He’d save Sander from himself, Robbe’s touch finally stabilizing him and stopping the harmful spread of radiation that emanated from within him. Robbe would nurse Sander back to health by transporting him back to their safe place for purification and healing. A rebirth of sorts. This and only this would finally bring Sander back to himself, and finally back to Robbe. Preview done for now (this is only a quarter of the chap).... read the rest on AO3 in a few days. Chap 4 is currently at 11k so its a mammoth of a chapter. See you there!

[eerythingisshaka]

Kings’ Trip (4)

T’Challa, M’Baku, Redeemed! Erik

Warnings: Cussin’, Family rivalries, slight, light peppering of implied smut, not even alladat. You’ll see.

Word Count: 2.8K  (it’s a miracle I stayed within rule max)

A/N: This is part of a The Black Panther fandom collab created by @royallyprincesslilly.  I really enjoyed doing this chapter, way more fun than I could’ve ever expected.  Honored to have taken part, this community it so blessed.  @katasstrophey, SHE READY!

Chapters: Kings’ Trip (1) By: @sisterwifeudaku, Kings’ Trip (2) By: @blackandfair (3) By: @royallyprincesslilly

 The trip was proving to be a lot more than T’Challa signed up for.  It was something when Erik’s reckless, loudmouth self and M’Baku’s narcissistic, disrespectful attitude were the most mild people he would have to deal with.  The stress sat heavily on them into the next day.  At least, on everyone but Erik.

“Aight niggas, we headed to the beach.  Sun’s out, guns out.”  Erik clad in his swim trunks, towel around his neck, and stunna shades on.

M’Baku was on the TV trying to figure out a video game Erik beat him on.  “I’m not a very summer sun kind of individual, eh?  I’ll just stay back.  AGH!”  He yells as he loses the level again against the CPU.

Erik snatches the controller from M’Baku.  “Listen, you not gonna get any better at this today, trust me.  If my trash ass beat you on Rainbow Road, you just not cut out for the Kart.”

M’Baku crosses his arms in a huff.  Erik looks over to T’Challa who is stewing over a cup of coffee.  “Now what the hell is your problem?”

T’Challa shakes his head, “Have you been here for the past couple days?  I have a half-brother I never knew existed, you remember that?”

Erik sucks his teeth.  “Don’t be actin like you never been through this before, dawg.  You got a new cousin outta some Maury type shit, and we good!”

T’Challa looks over at Erik sullenly, “Our scenario is exactly what I am afraid of.”

Erik claps T’Challa on the back, “Don’t take it so hard, T.  That’s why we need to get you out the house.  This is still our kingcation, remember?!  Let’s get out there, check out the waves, the honeys, and get it poppin!”

Nakia comes in the living room from the back, “You guys are going out?”

Erik looks sideways at T’Challa, “No wonder you all blue and shit.  You know we can’t have no real fun unless your girl ghosts, right?”

Nakia glares at Erik, “Please, I couldn’t careless.  But the way you all are treating Adrian, I think it is only right you think of him before going out.”  She looks at T’Challa for confirmation, who turns his face scratching his scalp.

M’Baku steps over to them.  “For the record, I have no ill feelings towards the little guy.  But I wonder the significance of him being brought to our attention now?”

Nakia answers, “This is a sensitive predicament to break down to the tribal leaders.  We don’t want to expose him to too much of what is expected from his existence.  There are two groups of people that could be affected by this; we cannot risk an uproar like LAST time.”  Nakia works her neck in Erik’s direction.

“Aye, it worked itself out in the end right?  Chiiiill.  So what y’all gon do, cuz I’m headed for some mai tai’s and gettin a good spot on the beach real quick.”

Nakia shrugs, “That’s fine.  I’ll call Adrian to join you all.”

T’Challa perks up at this, “Eh?  Why do you keep pushing this boy off on us?  He is a grown man, he can make his way on his own.  Why are you acting like his mother?”

Nakia steps right under T’Challa’s nose.  “He is still young and impressionable though.  You spent all of your life thinking your father was the greatest man, without flaws.  As you have become grown, you see it is the opposite and it just keeps getting deeper!  How DARE you blame him for his situation.  You need to soften your heart and welcome him as your blood.  Stop thinking about the throne and your status and take in your family!”

M’Baku plants his hands on both their shoulders, “Ok, let us calm this lover’s quarrel.  Nakia, go ahead and call him.”

T’Challa knocks M’Baku’s hand off him, “What gives you any right to-”

“That is MY cousin, T’Challa.  I have EVERY right to see him while we are here.  Watch your tongue when speaking of a Jabari.”  M’Baku says pointing a finger in T’Challa’s face.

Erik claps his hands, “Aight!  I fucking love Black ass family reunions.  Leggo!”

The crew make their way to the beach and it’s packed with folks.  Erik and M’Baku race to get to some chairs that were unoccupied to claim.  M’Baku stretches out, yawning, “Ahh, the sun is so draining….”

Erik taps his chest, “Uh uh, Baku, getcha ass on up.  We goin to get some liq up in our sys.”

M’Baku sits up confused, “Why do you always speak like a broken radio?  I can only understand every other word with you.”  He gets up to walk off with Erik.

“T’Challa, you coming through?”  Erik asks.

T’Challa is laying back in a chair, towel covering his face as he waves them away without a word.  While they were gone, T’Challa contemplated the complexities of his family tree.  He prayed that his father didn’t have some kind of Zeus complex, making children wherever he laid his head.  

Soon as T’Challa started to drift off, an annoying yet familiar voice came to him.

“Aye!  The seagulls will make a meal out of you if you don’t stop laying out here roasting like this.”

Moving the towel, T’Challa sees his sister Shuri.  She had her braids half up and half down, with a cute patterned bikini on with a skirt coverup.

T’Challa sits up mortified, “Eh, you walk out of the house looking like this?!”  

Shuri puts a hand on her hip, “I do and I have already.  No angry mobs have rushed me in horror brother, so thanks.”

T’Challa tosses his shirt at her, “Put this on.  You are too young to be wearing that.”

Shuri looks at him sideways, throwing the shirt back.  “You do realize toddlers where things very similar to this as well, yeah?  Calm your blood pressure, umkhulu.”

Erik and M’Baku are laughing and chatting coming back to the chairs.  “Aye look who found us, y’all!”  Erik had Adrian in a headlock.  

T’Challa’s heart rate began to speed up, he did not want Shuri to know about their new found brother yet.  “Good, you all made it!  Shuri is here, but she was just about to leave to meet with Nakia, right?”  T’Challa makes a face for her to scram.

Shuri waves him off, “Pssh, I have no obligations at the moment.  Let me hang out with my cousin and Baku!  Who is this guy, Erik?”

Erik’s face lights up as he starts but T’Challa cuts him off, “ERIK!!  Let’s take Adrian for a drink, eh?  We need to catch up!  M’Baku, keep Shuri company, please.”  T’Challa spins Erik around who still has Adrian locked up.

Erik looks at T’Challa confused, “Why ain’t you lettin’ the little nigga see his sister, man?”

“That was my sister??  Oh man, I always wanted a sister!”  Adrian says under Erik’s pit.

“We need to talk about that, I don’t want to upset her with something like this.  Who knows what she will do.”

They sit under a tiki bar and order some strong cocktails and a round or beers.

“Yeah, get me three beers, yo.  They for me.”  Erik looks over at Adrian winking.  T’Challa smack his arm, “He can’t drink, what are you doing?”

Erik looks at T’Challa, heavy lidded from his alcohol consumption so far.  “Chiiiill, he grown enough.  He already had a beer anyway and he handled that.  I promised him one more, then he cut off, right cuz?”  The shake hands in a cool way that makes T’Challa feel a jolt of envy.  

“So Adrian, what have you been up to lately?”  T’Challa asks.

Adrian sips his beer burping, “Ahh, just helping with the community center mostly.  I’m taking courses at a nearby community college as well.”

T’Challa furrows his brow, “Community college?  Why aren’t you at a university?  You have to apply yourself to the best institutions to get the best-”

“Aight, are we gonna be talking about careers and futures with the kid right now, for real?  T’Challa that’s like the number one thing you should NOT asks a student about: what the fuck they doin in school.”

“Thanks, cuz.  But T’Challa, I’m only going since it is the best thing for me to do, financially.  I get my prerequisites covered by going to community college first.  And I’m passing with flying colors, so it’s all good.”

T’Challa nods, blankly drinking his cocktail.  He forgot about how America’s schools were not as accessible as Wakanda’s.  He cursed himself for assuming Adrian was a slacker.

The bartender lines up some shots in front of them, filling them.

“We did not order these.”  T’Challa speaks up.

The bartender smiles jerking his head in to the right of them, “They’re covered.”

Two melanated baddies wave sipping and giggling at them.  

“Well shit, that’s my day made, right there.”  Erik says as he downs all three of the shots.  “Y’all conversate and shit while I go and knock down some walls.”

Adrian asks, “You mean break the ice?”

Erik turns rubbing his hands together Birdman style, “Nah, cuz.  Knock. Down. Some walls.”  Erik turns with a flourish.  “Ayyye, y’all wanna feel my scars?  They soft as fuck...”

 T’Challa shakes his head scoffing to himself.  “Now he is the crazy one.  Try not to let him influence-”  T’Challa looks over but Adrian is gone from his seat.  T’Challa sees him attempting to hula hoop with Shuri and M’Baku.  M’Baku is somehow impressively good at it despite his ox-like body.

T’Challa goes back to his original chair to keep tabs on how the conversations were going between Shuri and Adrian.  He still wanted to keep control on letting that information out.  Erik strolls over with the two baddies on either arm.

“And Veronica, this is M’Baku, my man!  I know you like em thicc, he do too, baby.”  

M’Baku drops his hula hoop puffing his chest out as he makes his way to Veronica.  “Pleased to meet you...Veronica.”  M’Baku dips his voice an octave, and Veronica notices with pleasure.

“Mmmm, nice to meet you!  You work that hula hoop pretty good...your hip movements are pretty on point.”  Veronica coos as she holds onto M’Baku close.

M’Baku chuckles, “My dear, I can move anyway you need me too.  That is, if you can keep up?”

Night starts to fall on the beach as Erik has his portable speaker blasting some trap jams, his lady grinds on his lap inconspicuously as they are completely inebriated and feeling each other.  M’Baku is into a beach game with Veronica, Shuri and Adrian.  Adrian has Shuri on his shoulders, Veronica is on M’Baku’s as the girls attempt to push one another over into the water.  Their laughs echo across the beach as T’Challa looks at them and how happy they are.  Adrian definitely acts more like Shuri than him, if he had to admit anything about their relation.  

He watches as M’Baku topples over with Veronica.  Shuri flexes and growls imitating a Jabari chant in victory.  Once M’Baku gets back up he tackles Adrian sending, Shuri and them into the water.  Shuri comes up, disgruntled as she yells at M’Baku for his antics.  Adrian and M’Baku wrestle in the water until M’Baku drags Adrian to the shore, putting him in a sleeper choke hold.

T’Challa thinks it’s getting a little too rough, so he gets up running over to them, “All right, that is enough!”

M’Baku laughs, “It is over when he taps out.  Show me what you’ve got, little one!”

Adrian squeaks, “I know you are getting tired; water sports are easier on the joints for the elderly!”

M’Baku lets out a hearty laugh, “Oh, how rich!  He has the Udaku mouth, that is for sure.  Jabari act more than speak!”

T’Challa puts M’Baku in a hold that shakes him up.  M’Baku lets Adrian go, rolling his body forward to whip T’Challa off of his back.

“The hell is wrong with you T’Challa?  Did you think I was going to kill him?”  M’Baku asks.  Shuri watches from a distance.

T’Challa gets up, wiping sand off of him.  “You know better than to hurt someone of royal blood.”

M’Baku guffaws, “Oh we acknowledge him now, do we?  The lost brother is now welcome!  Bring your fattest pig, finest clothes, rings for every finger!  Oh PLEASE!”  M’Baku’s nostrils flare, eyes bucking.  Veronica holds his arm to anchor him.

T’Challa points to him warning, “M’Baku, you treat my brother with resp-”

“HE IS A JABARI! My cousin!”  He says, beating his chest with each syllable.  “You have a problem with how I engage with my cousin, I’ll take it into consideration when you treat him like your brother!”

“T’Challa…”  Shuri looks at him confused.

“Shuri, it’s not-”

“I have been playing this whole time with my own brother, and you knew??  When were you going to tell me?”

“It’s not that simpl-”

“Save it, brother.  I’m calling Nakia to take me to my loft.”  Shuri walks away.

M’Baku asks T���Challa, “The child gets her own loft?”

“I run all the vibranium in Wakanda, what do you think?!”  Shuri calls behind her.  

M’Baku raises his eyebrows, “With ears like a rabbit, it seems.”

T’Challa collects his things, “It’s about time we call it a night.  Adrian you can come with me.  Where did Erik go?”  He and M’Baku look around but see him nowhere.

“Do you wanna call it a night, M’Baku?”  Veronica asks, eyes fluttering.

M’Baku takes her hand, kissing it.  “I must admit that our festivities have drained my energy considerably.”

Veronica frowns, “Well I’m right across the street if you could...walk me home?”

T’Challa starts to head for the penthouse with Adrian , “I will see you later M’Baku.  I’m heading back.”

Once he makes it back to the penthouse, T’Challa crashes on the couch, sighing deeply.  His phone dings with a message from Nakia saying she dropped off Shuri and is coming to get Adrian.

Adrian turns on the TV.  “So Shuri seems nice.”

T’Challa grips the bridge of his nose, “That will change.”

Adrian gets up to go to the fridge, grabbing a water.  “Well maybe she just likes me more than you, who knows.”

T’Challa looks back at him like he is crazy.  “You know her for all of five minutes, and you think she would pick you as a favorite brother?”

Adrian takes a sip, “I’m just saying, we are close in age, and when we were having fun, she was mad at you and storming off so, boom!”  

T’Challa shakes his head, “I don’t argue with children.”  

Adrian walks slowly to the couch, looking confused, turning down the TV slightly.  “T’Challa...I think Erik is here.”

“Yeah I saw shoes and shirt by the door when we walked in.  No home training.”

M’Baku walks in, “How are we doing, gentlemen?”  He is beaming from ear to ear.

“I take it you and Veronica had a nice goodbye.”  Adrian says.

M’Baku plops on the couch, causing Adrian to hop from his weight.  “I do not kiss and tell…”

“Fuck! Oh!” a woman’s voice says

Everyone freezes at the distant exclamation.

“What was….”  T’Challa starts.

“What’s my name, Princess?  Lemme fuckin hear it!”  Erik growls.

“Daddy!  Oh, gimme that daddy dick!”

Adrian covers his giggles, “Remember I told you Erik was here?  It sounded straight up like LL Cool J’s song ‘Doin It’ back there.”

M’Baku gets up striding out to the balcony, “I should’ve just stayed the night with Veronica.  Now I have to hear this.”  He closes the glass behind him.

Nakia walks into the penthouse, “Hey, guys.  Did things go well?”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”   the woman sounds operatic as she ought to be climaxing with all the noise.

“That’s it, nut on this dick-”

“ERIK!! Keep it down!  Adrian, come on, get out!”  He pulls Adrian to the door to rush him and Nakia out.

Adrian walks down the stairs as Nakia turns to T’Challa.  “I didn’t think of you as someone to half-ass things, T’Challa…”

“I was protecting her-”

Like your father was protecting you!  What does keeping the truth from people do T’Challa, huh?  Has it done you any good?  Erik?”  Nakia storms off. T’Challa leans against the wall outside the penthouse.  He is not used to being the bad guy, but his father left a trash legacy that he must try and turn into a treasure.  Heavy is the head of the privileged.  As T’Challa goes to open the door to return inside, it opens by itself.  Erik’s date walks out, hair a mess, and all around disheveled.

“Aight Leslie, you be careful walking down those steps.  Your hips oughta feel better by Thursday.”  She smiled goofily waving goodbye as Erik leaned against the doorframe watching her go.

“Phew!  Well, what’d I miss?”

@blublubleu @mbakusthrone @dramaqueenamby @muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @imagine-mbaku @airis-paris14 @katasstrophey @thewriterinflannel @blackandfair @sisterwifeudaku 

[dippedanddripped]

At a passing glance, it would appear that hip-hop has been defanged when it’s needed most. This is the most intense political era in living memory, and instead of rousing, politicized music from the genre that revolutionized rousing, political music, we’re mostly still getting more of the same hedonistic club bangers. Escapism is one thing… but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Beginning life within the celebratory escapism of The Bronx’s block parties, its move away from frivolous, crowd-pleasing wordplay gave way to something groundbreaking. Looking past the throngs of revelers to their broader surroundings, hip-hop became a vehicle for rappers to articulate discontent towards the entrapping tactics and disparities that ravaged their communities.

So for every exercise in elation, you had a stark but danceable piece of political commentary, such as Grandmaster Flash’s iconic journey through urban squalor on “The Message.” And in times where systemic discrimination reared its head most acutely, hip-hop responded in kind, providing a prescient and educational soundtrack. At the height of their powers, Public Enemy’s Chuck D enlightened NME on the pivotal purpose that hip-hop serves in broadening otherwise shuttered minds: “It’s a college course in black life,” he remarked in 1988, “as a matter of fact, it’s a whole damn degree you can earn.” Speaking just months before full-scale rioting engulfed Miami after police shot and killed 23-year-old Clement Lloyd, the commonality between the unrest of 31 years prior and today epitomizes why hip-hop’s sermons on injustice are still integral to the curriculum.

Yet in a time where activism is at a sustained height, what’s seen as the genre’s mainstream feels increasingly estranged from the struggles that necessitated its creation.

As calls for police reform reached a fever pitch, Nicki Minaj and Tekashi 6ix9ine’s “TROLLZ” was breaking YouTube’s record for most views of a hip-hop video in a single day. While Nicki has insisted that a “portion” of the proceeds will be allocated to The Bail Project, the track itself exists in its own gaudy vacuum. A microcosm of much of what Spotify re-designated as “Pop Rap” within their 2019 “Wrapped” findings, it plays up to all the clout-oriented egotism and excess that’s besieged the chart’s upper-reaches. To many casual listeners, these traits seem like prerequisites for that coveted Billboard success, dispensed without nuance or the faintest desire to surpass the one-dimensional.

Often miscast as a generational divide, the real crux of the matter is that some artists are content within the safety net of banality, while those who believe in hip-hop’s mobilizing power recognize the need for dissenting voices. Here, in the latter, we find the blossoming future of “political rap,” unbeholden to typecasting and producing engaging, 360-degree dispatches from Black life.

Although she was specifically discussing women in hip-hop, Chicago’s Noname captured the mood of the age when she declared that rappers “need to exist in multitudes.” Exemplified within her own 2018 magnum opus Room 25, a gripping track such as “Blaxploitation” neatly coexisted with a wide array of topics, biting humor, and slick demonstrations of lyrical prowess. Granted further autonomy by the online sphere, Noname’s assessment has set the tone for a new norm where rappers don’t need to sideline or fully focus on their conscious side to reach their audience.

Idealistic as it may sound, this state-of-play has been vividly illustrated by music made in both the preceding months and immediate aftermath of the callous murder of George Floyd. Proving that not only is hip-hop still intrinsically linked to its activistic roots, but also that this spirit is kept alive without rescinding artistic identity.

Run the Jewels stand out as a defining example of this trait. Driven in equal parts by cartoonish violence and stirring social commentary, they thrive on their duality. Not above sonic bombast or puerile humor, EL-P’s willingness to rhyme about “a cat shitting on my carpet” while “[Killer] Mike’s shooting a poodle” encapsulates the aura of fun and camaraderie that’s helped make them such a riveting duo. By the same token, their new album Run the Jewels 4’s unflinching portrayals of an ill-governed world on “Walking in the Snow,” “Ju$t,” or “A Few Words for the Firing Squad” anointed the project as a soundtrack to global revolt. Operating in every terrain they see fit, RTJ are a prime example of the modern, multi-faceted approach. As opposed to being a wafer-thin caricature, they juggle the whimsical and socio-political profundity with similar poise.

A product of both artistic vision and vigilance, the group’s instinctual tie to civil disobedience was summarized by Killer Mike as he explained, “In my mind, things are never not happening.”

Much like Noname’s call for eclecticism, the Atlanta veteran believes that it would be impossible for social insights to be absent from his work, invoking the old adage that “if you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention.”

Released days after George Floyd’s passing, Freddie Gibbs and The Alchemist’s Alfredo wasn’t earmarked for incisive commentary on police brutality. Yet in the same vein as RTJ, both Freddie’s first-hand encounters with prejudice and his cognizance of today’s fractious climate ensured it naturally came to the fore. While “Gangsta’ Gibbs” may have routinely quashed Tupac comparisons, he’d turn prophetic on the stunning “Scottie Beam,” proclaiming “the revolution is the genocide. Yeah, my execution might be televised.”

Speaking to Billboard after its release, Freddie discussed both the cultural osmosis that led to this poignant bar and its immediate adoption as political sloganeering. “It’s crazy I’ve been seeing people with ‘my execution might be televised’ signs at protests, but I didn’t really think about that when I was making Alfredo. I made that record before George Floyd. So it was no problem to make that song because I breathe that shit.”

Reaching communities where his calm contemplation is recognizable, as well as others in which which this tenuous grip on mortality is unthinkable, the fact that Freddie is as perceptive as he is entertaining means that by existing in more than one sphere, he, like RTJ, can infiltrate both dismissive and receptive minds.

Just as Freddie’s contemplative bar felt candid and spontaneous, hip-hop’s power to convey the realities which form the hardened exterior made Conway the Machine’s “Frontlines” register as an extension of his pre-existing catalogue. Responding to the latest atrocities in real-time, Griselda’s lieutenant struck an innately human note, declaring “just ‘cause he from the ghetto, that don’t mean he sellin’ crack/ He drivin’ home from work, you pull him over ‘cause he Black.”

Where Buffalo’s premier boom-bap crew normally trade in luxury brands and clandestine enterprise, Conway proved that, in the same vein as Freddie and Mike, the usual myth-making recedes to the background when it’s time to stand up and be counted. Encouragingly, he’s far from the only one.

Debunking the notion that hip-hop’s youth are blissfully ignorant, Lil Baby threw his fans a curveball with new track “The Bigger Picture.” Practically broadcast live from Atlanta’s demonstrations, everything from its powerful title to its track length that exceeds anything on his recent album to his description of how “they shootin’ protesters with these rubber bullets, they regular people I know that they feel it,” proves that when push comes to shove, hip-hop should always use its platform for something more, regardless of who it alienates. And in Lil Baby’s case, it also painted the chart-topping artist in a more multitudinous light than ever before.

By refusing to pigeonhole themselves as political, non-political, or anything in between, hip-hop’s solidarity with the change in the air wields more power than ever. Holding court as popular music’s leading force, the genre, when used purposefully, has the capacity to be the most far reaching anti-racist weapon available. And at a time where discrimination emits from the highest corridors of power, rappers confronting systemic hatred with a broad lens or as crisis response disseminates the message with more impact than books or social media campaigns ever could.

As a result, everyone from RTJ to Lil Baby and countless others have exemplified a new era where defiance is woven into the fabric of their artistry. While the world actively combats intolerance, hip-hop’s finest are doing their part by dutifully informing audiences that anyone can listen, just don’t expect to be pandered to.

[eddiejpoplar]

First Drive: 2019 McLaren 600LT Knocks Our Socks Off

BUDAPEST, Hungary — A trip to Hungary lurked on my bucket list for some time, so it was fitting and exciting when I this month got the call to drive the new 2019 McLaren 600LT at the Hungaroring, the country’s Formula 1 circuit.

The LT designation stands for “Longtail” and goes back to the original 1990s McLaren F1 road car. McLaren in 1997 produced an updated race car version of the F1, designated the F1 GTR Longtail. I remember being on the track at Le Mans in ’97 at the same time as the Longtail GTRs—stunningly beautiful race cars with an amazing-sounding V-12 motor.

The 675LT and 675LT Spider are, until now, the most recent versions of McLaren Longtail. They had low-volume 500-unit production runs, selling out in just two months and three weeks, respectively.

In the new 600LT’s case, “Longtail” literally means a 1.9-inch longer tail/rear than found on the McLaren 570S coupe on which it is based. The 600LT will have a production run of 12 months; if you don’t have your order in already, you might be a tad late. Maybe eBay is in order for the procrastinators.

As journalists hung around the Hungaroring waiting to get on the track, I heard several people opine that the 600LT looks so similar to the 570S and the 675, as if this wasn’t a good thing. No doubt, the 600LT does look similar to those other McLaren models. But doesn’t a Porsche 911 Carrera look a lot like a Porsche 911 Turbo, or even a Cayman from certain angles? Don’t various Ferraris? A similarity of design practice hasn’t hurt those companies as they continue to produce new models with only slightly different form and function.

One of the LTs I tested included 17 pay-to-play options, adding just more than $80,000 to the $242,500 base price. I asked one of the McLaren communications folks about the plethora of options found on all the launch event’s 600LTs. “We wanted to show cars including the options most of our buyer’s request,” came the response. “Virtually nobody buys a base McLaren, the more option choices we give them the more people can make it their very own 600LT.” There’s not much of an answer to that explanation, apart from, “OK then, $80k for options, got it.”

As far as design, you won’t find many members of the Automobile staff who are huge fans of the 570S’s rear end. The back of the 600LT is a nice improvement, particularly when it has the optional Rear Bumper (fender) Aero Fins. They define the extremities nicely and look quite racy. Those Aero Fins come as part of the $7,500 Gloss Visual Carbon Fiber Exterior Upgrade Pack 2. (Yes, that is the name.) Another part of the “many words Pack 2 option” are slick looking side skirts with aero winglets. Combining the LT’s 0.3-inch lower ride height with the carbon aero options gives the car a seductively menacing stance.

While on track, we were assigned professional driver coaches in the right seat. This was really helpful, as you never get many laps during these events and I had never seen the Hungaroring in person. My U.K.-based coach was Jamie Wall, also a professional racer and competitor during recent years. Riding in the passenger street around a racetrack with a stranger at the wheel takes a lot of never, and Wall’s pointers got me up to speed in no time. So big thanks to him for letting me run as hard as I needed to in order to get the most out of my track time.

The Hungaroring is a really great racetrack with plenty of places to pass (well, maybe not in F1 cars), something that is always a prerequisite for me to enjoy a circuit. It features 14 turns, with several blind corner entries due to walls or topography. The most fun/adrenaline-pumping corner for me was the quick left hand Turn 4, comprising a blind turn-in at more than 90 mph while cresting a hill, making car positioning critical. Great stuff.

McLaren’s have always felt like they pull unusually hard at more than 80 mph. When I first drove the McLaren MP4-12C back in 2012, the acceleration rate past 80 seemed to defy its 593 hp. I felt the same thing when first driving the 562-hp 570S about three years ago when I was following a 660-hp Ferrari 488 GTB in a 570S for our Automobile All-Stars test. I lost almost no ground to the Ferrari during several roll-on acceleration runs, so I’ve always put McLaren acceleration down to the company knowing a shed load about slippery aero coefficients.

Another reason McLaren’s accelerate so fast is because they don’t create the kind of downforce we see in cars like the new Corvette ZR1 or Porsche 911 RS models. If you add all the fancy aero bits to a 600LT, it produces 221 pounds of downforce at 155 mph. For comparison, the latest RS Porsches produce around 420 pounds (GT2 RS) and 500 pounds (GT3 RS) at the same speed. In real world driving terms, the only place I could legitimately compare the downforce or grip difference between a ZR1 or 911 RS and this LT, assuming equal tires at the limit of adhesion, would be in corners that are quicker than 80 mph—which would/should put me on a racetrack.

McLaren knew what it was doing by initially putting us on the track in a 570S. After a few sighting laps, it was straight into the 600LT. I immediately felt an increase in driver connection compared to the 570S. Steering inputs were “right now,” and both straight-line braking and trail braking modulation were much improved, enabled by McLaren Senna-inspired brake boost technology. Added to that was measurably more stick from the Pirelli P-Zero Trofeo R tires (225/35R19 front, 285/35R20 rear). These sticky donuts are a no-cost option on the LT.

Extra lateral grip from the Trofeo Rs made me appreciate the super-lightweight carbon seats. They held me in place perfectly and were very comfortable. If I think back to 2012 and my first drive in an MP4-12C, I see how far McLaren has come. In my mind, the 600LT has the most useable and finely finished interior I’ve seen so far in a McLaren, and it is a really pleasant place to spend driving time.

The Hungaroring has all kinds of fun corners: long 180-degree “patience” turns, 55-mph sliders, nasty blind off-camber entries, and a “Where did it go, George?” 90-mph flick through a kink. Definitely not boring. Serious speeds really only occur on the front straight, where the LT’s 3.8 Liter twin-turbo (593-hp, 457 lb-ft) engine shoved me up to 160 mph. At which point panic and prudence forced my left foot to bury the brake pedal, as I bombed downhill into the very slow first corner. The huge carbon-ceramic discs do a good job of stretching seatbelts. Brake-rotor size is 15.35-inch front, 14.96-inch rear with aluminum six-piston front and four-piston rear calipers. When the rear tires got rather hot and slippery in the afternoon session, the superb modulation of the brakes allowed me to maintain speed and momentum. I could comfortably slide the LT’s rear into apexes from what felt like a zip code away.

The first corner is probably the slowest turn on the track; a tight entry, followed by an immediately opening radius to exit. This second-gear turn showed-off the LT’s acceleration, reading “really quick” on my derriere dyno. The LT has 30-hp more than a 570S, thanks to a sweet sounding top-exit exhaust system and recalibrated ECU, but I feel power is only half the story here.

McLaren showed us some impressive comparisons. If you consider the LT’s relatively low weight (approximately 3,000 pounds as tested), along with its 592 hp, the following numbers make sense: The LT can out-accelerate a Lamborghini Huracan Performante (630 hp, 3,350 pounds) to 124 mph by 0.7 of a second (8.2 seconds for the 600LT, 8.9 for the Lambo). The LT even gains 0.2-second to 124 mph over the ballistic Ferrari 488 GTB (660 hp, 3,252 pounds). A 0-60-mph time of 2.8 seconds for the LT nips at the heels of a Porsche Turbo S, amazing for a two-wheel-drive vehicle. If you ever had any doubt, this all makes it rather apparent just how much weight matters.

The quick steering and chassis changes to the new car were central to differences in feel when jumping from a 570S to a 600LT. Here is why: LT springs are 13-percent stiffer in front and 34-percent stiffer in the rear, while hollow antiroll bars on the LT are 50-percent stiffer in the front and 25-percent stiffer in the rear. Add to that some lighter suspension pieces, recalibrated adaptive dampers, the lower ride height, and an overall weight savings of 212 pounds compared to the 570S. All these changes come together very nicely, making the LT a pure pleasure to rip around the Hungaroring and capable of pegging any driver’s giggle meter.

Deliveries begin in October, and the 2019 600LT is apparently selling like Starbucks coffee at a chess tournament. If you are one of the lucky ones waiting on your delivery, sleep soundly: good things are on the way.

2019 McLaren 600LT Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $242,500 (base) ENGINE 3.8L twin-turbo DOHC 32-valve V-8/592 hp @ 7,500 rpm, 457 lb-ft @ 5,500-6,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 7-speed dual-clutch automatic LAYOUT 2-door, 2-passenger, mid-engine, RWD coupe EPA MILEAGE 17/22 mpg (city/hwy) (est) L x W x H 181.3 x 80.5 x 47.0 in WHEELBASE 105.1 in WEIGHT 2,989 lb 0-60 MPH 2.8 sec TOP SPEED 204 mph

[jonathanbelloblog]

First Drive: 2019 McLaren 600LT Knocks Our Socks Off

BUDAPEST, Hungary — A trip to Hungary lurked on my bucket list for some time, so it was fitting and exciting when I this month got the call to drive the new 2019 McLaren 600LT at the Hungaroring, the country’s Formula 1 circuit.

The LT designation stands for “Longtail” and goes back to the original 1990s McLaren F1 road car. McLaren in 1997 produced an updated race car version of the F1, designated the F1 GTR Longtail. I remember being on the track at Le Mans in ’97 at the same time as the Longtail GTRs—stunningly beautiful race cars with an amazing-sounding V-12 motor.

The 675LT and 675LT Spider are, until now, the most recent versions of McLaren Longtail. They had low-volume 500-unit production runs, selling out in just two months and three weeks, respectively.

In the new 600LT’s case, “Longtail” literally means a 1.9-inch longer tail/rear than found on the McLaren 570S coupe on which it is based. The 600LT will have a production run of 12 months; if you don’t have your order in already, you might be a tad late. Maybe eBay is in order for the procrastinators.

As journalists hung around the Hungaroring waiting to get on the track, I heard several people opine that the 600LT looks so similar to the 570S and the 675, as if this wasn’t a good thing. No doubt, the 600LT does look similar to those other McLaren models. But doesn’t a Porsche 911 Carrera look a lot like a Porsche 911 Turbo, or even a Cayman from certain angles? Don’t various Ferraris? A similarity of design practice hasn’t hurt those companies as they continue to produce new models with only slightly different form and function.

One of the LTs I tested included 17 pay-to-play options, adding just more than $80,000 to the $242,500 base price. I asked one of the McLaren communications folks about the plethora of options found on all the launch event’s 600LTs. “We wanted to show cars including the options most of our buyer’s request,” came the response. “Virtually nobody buys a base McLaren, the more option choices we give them the more people can make it their very own 600LT.” There’s not much of an answer to that explanation, apart from, “OK then, $80k for options, got it.”

As far as design, you won’t find many members of the Automobile staff who are huge fans of the 570S’s rear end. The back of the 600LT is a nice improvement, particularly when it has the optional Rear Bumper (fender) Aero Fins. They define the extremities nicely and look quite racy. Those Aero Fins come as part of the $7,500 Gloss Visual Carbon Fiber Exterior Upgrade Pack 2. (Yes, that is the name.) Another part of the “many words Pack 2 option” are slick looking side skirts with aero winglets. Combining the LT’s 0.3-inch lower ride height with the carbon aero options gives the car a seductively menacing stance.

While on track, we were assigned professional driver coaches in the right seat. This was really helpful, as you never get many laps during these events and I had never seen the Hungaroring in person. My U.K.-based coach was Jamie Wall, also a professional racer and competitor during recent years. Riding in the passenger street around a racetrack with a stranger at the wheel takes a lot of never, and Wall’s pointers got me up to speed in no time. So big thanks to him for letting me run as hard as I needed to in order to get the most out of my track time.

The Hungaroring is a really great racetrack with plenty of places to pass (well, maybe not in F1 cars), something that is always a prerequisite for me to enjoy a circuit. It features 14 turns, with several blind corner entries due to walls or topography. The most fun/adrenaline-pumping corner for me was the quick left hand Turn 4, comprising a blind turn-in at more than 90 mph while cresting a hill, making car positioning critical. Great stuff.

McLaren’s have always felt like they pull unusually hard at more than 80 mph. When I first drove the McLaren MP4-12C back in 2012, the acceleration rate past 80 seemed to defy its 593 hp. I felt the same thing when first driving the 562-hp 570S about three years ago when I was following a 660-hp Ferrari 488 GTB in a 570S for our Automobile All-Stars test. I lost almost no ground to the Ferrari during several roll-on acceleration runs, so I’ve always put McLaren acceleration down to the company knowing a shed load about slippery aero coefficients.

Another reason McLaren’s accelerate so fast is because they don’t create the kind of downforce we see in cars like the new Corvette ZR1 or Porsche 911 RS models. If you add all the fancy aero bits to a 600LT, it produces 221 pounds of downforce at 155 mph. For comparison, the latest RS Porsches produce around 420 pounds (GT2 RS) and 500 pounds (GT3 RS) at the same speed. In real world driving terms, the only place I could legitimately compare the downforce or grip difference between a ZR1 or 911 RS and this LT, assuming equal tires at the limit of adhesion, would be in corners that are quicker than 80 mph—which would/should put me on a racetrack.

McLaren knew what it was doing by initially putting us on the track in a 570S. After a few sighting laps, it was straight into the 600LT. I immediately felt an increase in driver connection compared to the 570S. Steering inputs were “right now,” and both straight-line braking and trail braking modulation were much improved, enabled by McLaren Senna-inspired brake boost technology. Added to that was measurably more stick from the Pirelli P-Zero Trofeo R tires (225/35R19 front, 285/35R20 rear). These sticky donuts are a no-cost option on the LT.

Extra lateral grip from the Trofeo Rs made me appreciate the super-lightweight carbon seats. They held me in place perfectly and were very comfortable. If I think back to 2012 and my first drive in an MP4-12C, I see how far McLaren has come. In my mind, the 600LT has the most useable and finely finished interior I’ve seen so far in a McLaren, and it is a really pleasant place to spend driving time.

The Hungaroring has all kinds of fun corners: long 180-degree “patience” turns, 55-mph sliders, nasty blind off-camber entries, and a “Where did it go, George?” 90-mph flick through a kink. Definitely not boring. Serious speeds really only occur on the front straight, where the LT’s 3.8 Liter twin-turbo (593-hp, 457 lb-ft) engine shoved me up to 160 mph. At which point panic and prudence forced my left foot to bury the brake pedal, as I bombed downhill into the very slow first corner. The huge carbon-ceramic discs do a good job of stretching seatbelts. Brake-rotor size is 15.35-inch front, 14.96-inch rear with aluminum six-piston front and four-piston rear calipers. When the rear tires got rather hot and slippery in the afternoon session, the superb modulation of the brakes allowed me to maintain speed and momentum. I could comfortably slide the LT’s rear into apexes from what felt like a zip code away.

The first corner is probably the slowest turn on the track; a tight entry, followed by an immediately opening radius to exit. This second-gear turn showed-off the LT’s acceleration, reading “really quick” on my derriere dyno. The LT has 30-hp more than a 570S, thanks to a sweet sounding top-exit exhaust system and recalibrated ECU, but I feel power is only half the story here.

McLaren showed us some impressive comparisons. If you consider the LT’s relatively low weight (approximately 3,000 pounds as tested), along with its 592 hp, the following numbers make sense: The LT can out-accelerate a Lamborghini Huracan Performante (630 hp, 3,350 pounds) to 124 mph by 0.7 of a second (8.2 seconds for the 600LT, 8.9 for the Lambo). The LT even gains 0.2-second to 124 mph over the ballistic Ferrari 488 GTB (660 hp, 3,252 pounds). A 0-60-mph time of 2.8 seconds for the LT nips at the heels of a Porsche Turbo S, amazing for a two-wheel-drive vehicle. If you ever had any doubt, this all makes it rather apparent just how much weight matters.

The quick steering and chassis changes to the new car were central to differences in feel when jumping from a 570S to a 600LT. Here is why: LT springs are 13-percent stiffer in front and 34-percent stiffer in the rear, while hollow antiroll bars on the LT are 50-percent stiffer in the front and 25-percent stiffer in the rear. Add to that some lighter suspension pieces, recalibrated adaptive dampers, the lower ride height, and an overall weight savings of 212 pounds compared to the 570S. All these changes come together very nicely, making the LT a pure pleasure to rip around the Hungaroring and capable of pegging any driver’s giggle meter.

Deliveries begin in October, and the 2019 600LT is apparently selling like Starbucks coffee at a chess tournament. If you are one of the lucky ones waiting on your delivery, sleep soundly: good things are on the way.

2019 McLaren 600LT Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $242,500 (base) ENGINE 3.8L twin-turbo DOHC 32-valve V-8/592 hp @ 7,500 rpm, 457 lb-ft @ 5,500-6,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 7-speed dual-clutch automatic LAYOUT 2-door, 2-passenger, mid-engine, RWD coupe EPA MILEAGE 17/22 mpg (city/hwy) (est) L x W x H 181.3 x 80.5 x 47.0 in WHEELBASE 105.1 in WEIGHT 2,989 lb 0-60 MPH 2.8 sec TOP SPEED 204 mph

[jesusvasser]

First Drive: 2019 McLaren 600LT Knocks Our Socks Off

BUDAPEST, Hungary — A trip to Hungary lurked on my bucket list for some time, so it was fitting and exciting when I this month got the call to drive the new 2019 McLaren 600LT at the Hungaroring, the country’s Formula 1 circuit.

The LT designation stands for “Longtail” and goes back to the original 1990s McLaren F1 road car. McLaren in 1997 produced an updated race car version of the F1, designated the F1 GTR Longtail. I remember being on the track at Le Mans in ’97 at the same time as the Longtail GTRs—stunningly beautiful race cars with an amazing-sounding V-12 motor.

The 675LT and 675LT Spider are, until now, the most recent versions of McLaren Longtail. They had low-volume 500-unit production runs, selling out in just two months and three weeks, respectively.

In the new 600LT’s case, “Longtail” literally means a 1.9-inch longer tail/rear than found on the McLaren 570S coupe on which it is based. The 600LT will have a production run of 12 months; if you don’t have your order in already, you might be a tad late. Maybe eBay is in order for the procrastinators.

As journalists hung around the Hungaroring waiting to get on the track, I heard several people opine that the 600LT looks so similar to the 570S and the 675, as if this wasn’t a good thing. No doubt, the 600LT does look similar to those other McLaren models. But doesn’t a Porsche 911 Carrera look a lot like a Porsche 911 Turbo, or even a Cayman from certain angles? Don’t various Ferraris? A similarity of design practice hasn’t hurt those companies as they continue to produce new models with only slightly different form and function.

One of the LTs I tested included 17 pay-to-play options, adding just more than $80,000 to the $242,500 base price. I asked one of the McLaren communications folks about the plethora of options found on all the launch event’s 600LTs. “We wanted to show cars including the options most of our buyer’s request,” came the response. “Virtually nobody buys a base McLaren, the more option choices we give them the more people can make it their very own 600LT.” There’s not much of an answer to that explanation, apart from, “OK then, $80k for options, got it.”

As far as design, you won’t find many members of the Automobile staff who are huge fans of the 570S’s rear end. The back of the 600LT is a nice improvement, particularly when it has the optional Rear Bumper (fender) Aero Fins. They define the extremities nicely and look quite racy. Those Aero Fins come as part of the $7,500 Gloss Visual Carbon Fiber Exterior Upgrade Pack 2. (Yes, that is the name.) Another part of the “many words Pack 2 option” are slick looking side skirts with aero winglets. Combining the LT’s 0.3-inch lower ride height with the carbon aero options gives the car a seductively menacing stance.

While on track, we were assigned professional driver coaches in the right seat. This was really helpful, as you never get many laps during these events and I had never seen the Hungaroring in person. My U.K.-based coach was Jamie Wall, also a professional racer and competitor during recent years. Riding in the passenger street around a racetrack with a stranger at the wheel takes a lot of never, and Wall’s pointers got me up to speed in no time. So big thanks to him for letting me run as hard as I needed to in order to get the most out of my track time.

The Hungaroring is a really great racetrack with plenty of places to pass (well, maybe not in F1 cars), something that is always a prerequisite for me to enjoy a circuit. It features 14 turns, with several blind corner entries due to walls or topography. The most fun/adrenaline-pumping corner for me was the quick left hand Turn 4, comprising a blind turn-in at more than 90 mph while cresting a hill, making car positioning critical. Great stuff.

McLaren’s have always felt like they pull unusually hard at more than 80 mph. When I first drove the McLaren MP4-12C back in 2012, the acceleration rate past 80 seemed to defy its 593 hp. I felt the same thing when first driving the 562-hp 570S about three years ago when I was following a 660-hp Ferrari 488 GTB in a 570S for our Automobile All-Stars test. I lost almost no ground to the Ferrari during several roll-on acceleration runs, so I’ve always put McLaren acceleration down to the company knowing a shed load about slippery aero coefficients.

Another reason McLaren’s accelerate so fast is because they don’t create the kind of downforce we see in cars like the new Corvette ZR1 or Porsche 911 RS models. If you add all the fancy aero bits to a 600LT, it produces 221 pounds of downforce at 155 mph. For comparison, the latest RS Porsches produce around 420 pounds (GT2 RS) and 500 pounds (GT3 RS) at the same speed. In real world driving terms, the only place I could legitimately compare the downforce or grip difference between a ZR1 or 911 RS and this LT, assuming equal tires at the limit of adhesion, would be in corners that are quicker than 80 mph—which would/should put me on a racetrack.

McLaren knew what it was doing by initially putting us on the track in a 570S. After a few sighting laps, it was straight into the 600LT. I immediately felt an increase in driver connection compared to the 570S. Steering inputs were “right now,” and both straight-line braking and trail braking modulation were much improved, enabled by McLaren Senna-inspired brake boost technology. Added to that was measurably more stick from the Pirelli P-Zero Trofeo R tires (225/35R19 front, 285/35R20 rear). These sticky donuts are a no-cost option on the LT.

Extra lateral grip from the Trofeo Rs made me appreciate the super-lightweight carbon seats. They held me in place perfectly and were very comfortable. If I think back to 2012 and my first drive in an MP4-12C, I see how far McLaren has come. In my mind, the 600LT has the most useable and finely finished interior I’ve seen so far in a McLaren, and it is a really pleasant place to spend driving time.

The Hungaroring has all kinds of fun corners: long 180-degree “patience” turns, 55-mph sliders, nasty blind off-camber entries, and a “Where did it go, George?” 90-mph flick through a kink. Definitely not boring. Serious speeds really only occur on the front straight, where the LT’s 3.8 Liter twin-turbo (593-hp, 457 lb-ft) engine shoved me up to 160 mph. At which point panic and prudence forced my left foot to bury the brake pedal, as I bombed downhill into the very slow first corner. The huge carbon-ceramic discs do a good job of stretching seatbelts. Brake-rotor size is 15.35-inch front, 14.96-inch rear with aluminum six-piston front and four-piston rear calipers. When the rear tires got rather hot and slippery in the afternoon session, the superb modulation of the brakes allowed me to maintain speed and momentum. I could comfortably slide the LT’s rear into apexes from what felt like a zip code away.

The first corner is probably the slowest turn on the track; a tight entry, followed by an immediately opening radius to exit. This second-gear turn showed-off the LT’s acceleration, reading “really quick” on my derriere dyno. The LT has 30-hp more than a 570S, thanks to a sweet sounding top-exit exhaust system and recalibrated ECU, but I feel power is only half the story here.

McLaren showed us some impressive comparisons. If you consider the LT’s relatively low weight (approximately 3,000 pounds as tested), along with its 592 hp, the following numbers make sense: The LT can out-accelerate a Lamborghini Huracan Performante (630 hp, 3,350 pounds) to 124 mph by 0.7 of a second (8.2 seconds for the 600LT, 8.9 for the Lambo). The LT even gains 0.2-second to 124 mph over the ballistic Ferrari 488 GTB (660 hp, 3,252 pounds). A 0-60-mph time of 2.8 seconds for the LT nips at the heels of a Porsche Turbo S, amazing for a two-wheel-drive vehicle. If you ever had any doubt, this all makes it rather apparent just how much weight matters.

The quick steering and chassis changes to the new car were central to differences in feel when jumping from a 570S to a 600LT. Here is why: LT springs are 13-percent stiffer in front and 34-percent stiffer in the rear, while hollow antiroll bars on the LT are 50-percent stiffer in the front and 25-percent stiffer in the rear. Add to that some lighter suspension pieces, recalibrated adaptive dampers, the lower ride height, and an overall weight savings of 212 pounds compared to the 570S. All these changes come together very nicely, making the LT a pure pleasure to rip around the Hungaroring and capable of pegging any driver’s giggle meter.

Deliveries begin in October, and the 2019 600LT is apparently selling like Starbucks coffee at a chess tournament. If you are one of the lucky ones waiting on your delivery, sleep soundly: good things are on the way.

2019 McLaren 600LT Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $242,500 (base) ENGINE 3.8L twin-turbo DOHC 32-valve V-8/592 hp @ 7,500 rpm, 457 lb-ft @ 5,500-6,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 7-speed dual-clutch automatic LAYOUT 2-door, 2-passenger, mid-engine, RWD coupe EPA MILEAGE 17/22 mpg (city/hwy) (est) L x W x H 181.3 x 80.5 x 47.0 in WHEELBASE 105.1 in WEIGHT 2,989 lb 0-60 MPH 2.8 sec TOP SPEED 204 mph

[bluescdsuits43formen]

Exciting Careers in Fashion

Besides the four fashion capitals of the world namely; Paris, Milan, London, and New York, I'm sure there is a local version of fashion week in your place where you can get a huge amount of fashion style inspirations. Quickly check online for the scheduled date of this tremendously exciting affair for fashion aficionados and take a pick among which Men suit style inspirations you would get from the various collections of different fashion designers flaunting their work on the runway.

2. Be a mall rat

If fashion weeks seem to be far-fetched, you can always go to your dependable local mall. Malls usually have shops that sell the trends. Which top sells the hottest or which clothing brands are worn by celebrities and models alike. Clothing brands usually get famous celebrities to be fashion style inspirations and you'll surely find out how you can keep up with the latest fashion trends & tips.

3. Love media!

Print, television, and film are powerful sources of great style inspirations you can check. Posh magazines are still on the list of references where you can see what's hot and what's not. Magazines are also leather jackets beneficial because you can just cut-out your favourite outfit, post it on your wall and explore your closet to have the same look! Allure, Cosmopolitan, Elle and Vogue are just some of the many fashion magazines you can rely on. Fashion style inspirations are also found on TV and film where you can just see what style celebrities are wearing.

4. Embrace the online fashion frenzy

You will definitely agree when I say that technology has made everything conveniently operated by the touch of a finger. All you have to do is research, browse, and pin pictures of your fashion style inspirations so you can have them on-standby when you need a glance of the latest fashion trends & tips. You can also subscribe to fashion websites to get a daily dose of fashion freshness or follow fashion designers and posh clothing brands on social media.

5. Go out and scout

Call up your friends and hit the bar, a concert, or a party and play observe. The best fashion style inspirations are sometimes the random people you see around. Chances are if it's trendy enough, then sherwani  90% of the people are wearing it. Spot the fashionistas with your friends and don't forget to take down notes on the latest fashion trends & tips.Indian fashion has changed with each passing era. The Indian fashion industry is rising by leaps and bounds, and every month one witnesses some new trend or the other. India's economic growth also had a major impact on fashion trends. The ever increasing purchasing power of the middle class has brought fashion within easy reach of the commoner. Evolving work standards have also increased the scope of fashion in the country as there is a striking need for comfortable clothing during long working hours.

Indian Fashion Trends down the line

To understand how Indian fashion has changed over the years, let us go back to the last century. In the 50s and 60s, the fashion scenario in the country, though not colorless, was exciting, stylish and pretty graceful. Designers, models and fashion design labels were relatively unknown. Back then, the value of a garment was judged by the quality  cool leather jackets of its fabric and not by who made it.

In the 60s, ladies preferred wearing tight kurtas, high coiffures and churidars. Coated polyester fabric was in vogue during those days. The 70s saw bold colors and bell-bottoms adoring one's wardrobe. Bell-bottoms were popularized by the leading actors of the generation like Amitabh Bachchan and Rajesh Khanna. By the end of 70s, the disco culture also started affecting Indian fashion.

The opening of the first fashion store Ravissant in Mumbai in the early 80s marked the dawn of a new era in fashion. The Indian population started identifying themselves with designers like Calvin Klein. More designer store options gave Indians a wide variety of choice.

In the 90s, one witnessed the evolution of models and fashion designers who came up with new designs every other day. Garments became more affordable and Indian fashion began to spread its wings biker leather jackets  globally. With leading ladies like Sushmita Sen and Aishwarya Rai winning international beauty contests, Indian fashion was all set for a huge leap.

Since the last few years, international fashion brands have started tapping the huge potential of the Indian fashion market. Companies like Nike and Reebok have made a mark through their retail store chains in shopping malls. Shows such as Lakme India Fashion Week and Wills Lifestyle India Fashion Week have provided a great platform to new designers to showcase their talent. In these two events, leading Indian fashion designers such as Manish Malhotra, Ritu Beri, Rohit Khosla and others charm the audience with their designs and introduce them to new trends in fashion for the upcoming season.

The west also influenced the evolution of fashion in India. Today, a teenager and an elderly can both be seen wearing a pair of denims. Designers returning after obtaining fashion degrees from abroad have brought a global perspective to the country's fashion circle. They have plus size leather jackets  also helped to introduce Indian fashion to the west. Indian designer labels are increasingly becoming popular among the global audience. At this rate of growth, the Indian fashion market will be a force to reckon with, on par with the fashion world in Paris if not more.Creating your own fashion blog can be the easiest and at the same time, the toughest of all writing assignments. The task can be both intimidating at times and exciting too. There is probably no other subject on earth that makes you as jittery as the subject of fashion when you start creating a blog dedicated solely to the aspects of looking great.

Do Not Focus Solely on Earning Money: Like most of the other bloggers, fashion bloggers are also allowed to make money through proper marketing of their blogs. But, earning money should not be the sole purpose of the blog. A number of fashion blogs these days are interested in generating revenue through advertisements of different fashion brands. This makes it way too difficult to build a heart to heart connection business suits for men  with the readers.

Invite The Reader to Your Fashion World: People do not visit a fashion blog just to check out what clothes the bloggers are wearing. They want to have a complete fashionable experience by receiving knowledge about what they should wear and why. Moreover, the visitors would like to get into the complete runway fashion experience or would love to imagine themselves to be in the part of the world that a particular trend of fashion belongs to. This is the best way to gift the ordinary blog readers with a nice "almost" fashion show like experience without intimidating their taste for fashion. In fact, that is what most of them turn to a fashion blog for.

Engage The Readers with Excellent Write-ups: It is true that the nice and catchy photographs are prerequisite to bringing more traffic to your fashion blog. That does not mean you can forget keeping an eye on the quality of posts on your blog. Remarks interwoven with witty and intelligent fun keeps the readers hooked and makes most of them coming  blue suits for men back, again and again. No matter how beautiful the images are and how much your knowledge and sense of fashion helps the visitors, you cannot expect them to wait for a few minutes before leaving, until the information in black and white does not seem to be enlightening and appealing enough.

Reach Out to Readers by Imparting Confidence: Fashion blogs are a tad different from the usual fashion magazines and the lifestyle channels on television. Writing for fashion blogs is beyond mere advising about what to wear and what not to. But, the readers love to see in the fashion blogs how ordinary people actually dress. Unlike, popular fashion magazines and TV channels, such blogs tell its target readers how to wear whatever they want to, confidently. Some widely popular fashion magazines cannot impart the same confidence that the wearer needs to carry along with the dress.

Do Not Suggest Buying Expensive Products: The dream of buying expensive clothes, accessories, bags and shoes from big fashion labels often pursue people to end up adding them to their stock. Still, a large number of people cannot afford such brands. Does that mean, those people black men in suits  cannot really reach out for what is called fashion in true sense? Fashion bloggers can bridge the gap by relying equally on low-budget products as they do on expensive brands.

Image is The Heart of Fashion Blogs: High quality photographs are a must for the success of a fashion blog. Fashion is one subject, blogs on which requires to cater to the ocular sensory nerves a lot. So, it becomes very important for the blogger to look for the right kind of pictures to validate the subjects of blog-posts. The readers will definitely like to have a look at what they are being suggested to wear. It is very important to put up very clear and professionally taken photographs that will also help them visualizing themselves in such clothes. It is very important for the blogs to become fashion inspirations for the readers. Otherwise, they will not come back to the blog again.Fashion has a rippling effect on people from different walks of life. It gradually gains popularity among different strata of society. To help fashion wedding sherwani  reach out to the consumers, a large number of professionals are needed. Apart from fashion designing, you can find a number of exciting jobs related to fashion.

If you are not into designing but still want to remain connected with fashion, you can perform other job duties such as Fashion marketing/ merchandising/buying and forecasting in context of every kind of wear be it the sophisticated haute-couture, ready-to-wear or for the mass market and street wear.

Basically, the fashion and the retail industry at large works as team where fashion advisors, buyers, forecasters, merchandisers and marketers, fashion designers play their part well and keep the industry going. If you love fashion and want to be related to this field professionally, you can take up jobs such as that of marketing/ merchandising/buying and forecasting in this field. These jobs enable you to execute functions that help designers to sell their collections. As a buyer you have to perform  SEO Training a number of functions such as that of a fashion buying. You'll be entrusted with the job of buying raw material/accessories for fashion houses, buying houses, export houses and retail line. For this you need to have a superior knowledge about the new trends that are likely to hit the market and probably which will fetch a large number of consumers. Fashion Marketing is basically concerned with making fashion reach out to maximum number of consumers and assisting fashion designers, retail stores to make fashion accessible to the target customers. You have to work with fashion designers, suppliers and also at the manufacturing level in order to even the process that precedes fashion designing.

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[iyarpage]

Android Slices: Getting Started

At Google I/O 2018, Google announced a new way to present UI templates that can display rich, dynamic and interactive content from your app within the Google Search app and, later, in other places such as the Google Assistant.

Those UI templates are called Slices. The templates are great for many reasons:

Slices can help users to get information or take instant action outside of an app screen.

Slices make your users re-engage with your app in a relevant context.

Slices are built into Android Jetpack and can extend all the way back to Android Kitkat API 19.

Slices are in beta release at the time of writing this tutorial, but you can get started developing with them today!

Getting Started

In this tutorial you are going to build a Slice template for a raywenderlich.com Bookstore app. The Slice will display some book covers with titles and prices, as well as a notification icon to enable or disable the app notification. Here’s what the end product will look like:

Prerequisites: For this tutorial, you need basic knowledge of Android programming and familiarity with Kotlin and Android Studio. Knowledge of content providers and URIs is helpful but not required.

If you’re completely new to Android, you might want to first check out Beginning Android Development Part One. If you need to catch up on Kotlin, you can check out Kotlin for Android: An Introduction.

To follow along with this tutorial, you’ll need to use Android Studio 3.1.3 or later and Kotlin 1.2.30 or later.

Start by downloading the materials for this tutorial using the Download Materials button at the top or bottom of this page. Fire up Android Studio and import the starter project. For the most part, you will create your own classes. You will need to find AndroidManifest.xml to add code, so make sure you can locate that.

If you have not downloaded the SDK for Android API Level 28 previously, you’ll have to do that to run the app. If you already have Android API 28 set up, you can skip the following four steps and go right to building and running the app.

Select Tools ▸ SDK Manager, or click the SDK Manager icon in toolbar.

In the SDK Platforms tab, select Android API 28. You may need to select “Show Package Details” to see it.

In the SDK Platforms tab, select Android SDK Platform 28.

In the SDK Tools tab, select Android SDK Build-Tools 28-rc2 or higher. Again, you may need to select “Show Package Details.”

In the SDK Tools tab, select Android SDK Build-Tools 28-rc2

Click OK to begin install.

Once the SDK is installed, build and run the app. It is a bookstore app, and it shows the available books on https://store.raywenderlich.com/.

Slice Viewer

Slices need a viewer or presenter to display their content.

The Google Search app is one of the suitable presenters to show your Slice template. When the user types a word in the search bar, the Slice you’ve created might present related information to the user’s search keyword.

For example, if the user types words such as “ride” or “ride car,” Slices from installed apps like Careem or Uber could show to let the user request a car even without opening the corresponding app; that full experience can be achieved by App Actions and Slices.

Displaying Your Slice With Slice Viewers

Bear in mind that presenters may make a light customization to your Slices to match their design requirements, e.g., font style, font size and/or colors. Icons in your Slice, for example, will be tinted with the accent color of the presenter app.

You will use a Slice Viewer app to display the Slice from your Bookstore app. The Slice Viewer app uses your slice Uri to view it on what’s called its surface, and on a first time request of your Slice, the user will be asked to grant a permission to the viewer.

Installing the Slice Viewer App

Install the SliceViewer.apk, which can be found in the downloaded materials for this tutorial, on a real device or emulator, then open the app. You can install the APK file by dragging and dropping the file onto the emulator if you’re using one or running adb install -r -t SliceViewer.apk from the terminal while in that directory. The Slice Viewer app looks like this:

Creating the BookstoreSliceProvider Class

The starter project already includes the Slices core and builders libraries as dependencies in the app’s build.gradle file, so you can get started right away building your Slice:

implementation "androidx.slice:slice-core:1.0.0-beta01" implementation "androidx.slice:slice-builders:1.0.0-beta01"

Create a new Kotlin class named BookstoreSliceProvider and make it inherit from the androidx.slice.SliceProvider class. Use the androidx option if available for any imports that you need to add for the rest of the tutorial.

import androidx.slice.SliceProvider class BookstoreSliceProvider: SliceProvider() { }

Implementing the SliceProvider Class

The SliceProvider class is your only way to expose your Slice to other apps, and it decides which Slice will be exposed to the viewer.

The SliceProvider class is a subclass of the ContentProvider class. Content providers are one of the primary building blocks of Android applications. They encapsulate data and provide it to applications through the single ContentResolver interface. You can use content providers if you need to share data between multiple apps. For example, Contacts data is used by multiple apps and is stored in a content provider. Learn more about content providers from here.

Add two methods to your BookstoreSliceProvider, along with a companion object. You’ll add the createBookstoreSlice() function shortly:

// 1 override fun onCreateSliceProvider(): Boolean { // 2 return true } // 3 override fun onBindSlice(sliceUri: Uri): Slice? { //4 val path = sliceUri.path when (path) { // 5 "/$BOOKSTORE_PATH" -> return createBookstoreSlice(sliceUri) } // 6 return null } companion object { // 7 const val BOOKSTORE_PATH = "book_store" }

Here, you:

Implement onCreateSliceProvider() to initialize your Slice provider on startup. Do not put long running operations here or your app launch will be delayed, and the first Slice that binds with the viewer will be delayed, too.

Return true if the provider was successfully loaded, false otherwise.

Create your Slice inside the body of onBindSlice(). You should create and return your Slice as quickly as possible. If you want to make network requests or I/O operations, do so in the background to keep your Slice UI responsive. If your background operation is done and you want to update your Slice with the new data, call contentResolver.notifyChange(uri) with the Slice URI, and Android will invoke onBindSlice() for you.

Get the path from the URI.

Check if that path is the path of your Slice and return the bookstore Slice if true.

Return null in case you have no Slice for this path.

Create a String constant as a bookstore path.

Slice providers must be registered in the app Android manifest, so declare BookstoreSliceProvider in the AndroidManifest.xml file as a child of the application element.

<provider android:name=".BookstoreSliceProvider" android:authorities="com.raywenderlich.android.bookstore" android:exported="true" android:grantUriPermissions="true"/>

You’ve marked the Slice provider as exported so that it is made available to Slice viewers.

Creating the Bookstore Slice

Slices are list of rows that are constructed using a ListBuilder, a type of SliceBuilder.

Slice Builders

At the time of writing of this tutorial, Android provides five different Slice builders to build different types of rows with different designs and functionalities: HeaderBuilder, RowBuilder, GridRowBuilder, RangeBuilder, and InputRangeBuilder.

To create your “bookstore Slice” design, you will use:

ListBuilder as the main builder of your Slice.

HeaderBuilder to set a header with title and subtitle.

GridRowBuilder to add a row of cells.

CellBuilder to add a cell; each cell has an image, title and text.

Add the createBookstoreSlice() method to BookstoreSliceProvider:

private fun createBookstoreSlice(sliceUri: Uri): Slice { // 1 return ListBuilder(context, sliceUri, ListBuilder.INFINITY) // 2 .setHeader { it.apply { // 3 title = "Bookstore" // 4 subtitle = "raywenderlich.com" // large mode summary = "raywenderlich.com" //small mode // 5 primaryAction = createOpenBookStoreAction() } } // 6 .build() }

Also, add the createOpenBookStoreAction() method that returns a SliceAction for the action to take when a user interacts with your Slice:

private fun createOpenBookStoreAction(): SliceAction { val pIntent = BookstoreActivity.buildPendingIntent(context) return SliceAction(pIntent, createIcon(R.drawable.logo_raywenderlich), "Open Book Store") }

In the above, you:

Construct a ListBuilder by passing a context object, the Slice Uri and the lifetime of the content in this Slice. For your case, pass ListBuilder.INFINITY for the lifetime to make the content live forever. ListBuilder is the first builder you need to use to start building a new Slice, and it allows you to add different types of rows that are displayed in a list.

Set a HeaderBuilder to display a header as a first row in your Slice template. HeaderBuilder allows you to add title, subtitle, summary subtitle and/or primary action to the header.

Set a title for the header

Set a subtitle and summary for the header.

Set the primaryAction for the header.

Call the build() method to build your Slice.

Letting the Slice Viewer Show Your Slice

You neeed to set up a run configuration to show your Slice on the top of the viewer surface by launching the Slice Viewer app using your Slice URI.

Follow these steps to do this:

In Android Studio, select Run ▸ Edit Configurations.

In the top-left corner, click the Plus button and select Android App.

Enter Bookstore Slice in the Name field.

Select your app module in the Module dropdown.

Under Launch Options, select URL from the Launch dropdown.

Enter your Slice URI in the URL field.

slice-content://com.raywenderlich.android.bookstore/book_store

Click OK. Build and run using this configuration; you will see a screen like this:

Tap on the Slice Viewer item; you will see a screen like this:

Note: The Slice Viewer app can show your Slice if and only if it has permission to access your Slice URI.

Tap on the ALLOW button to grant the permission, then you will see a screen like this:

Using GridRowBuilder to Display Books

Add the following code to your ListBuilder right before .build() to add a row of cells:

//... // 1 .addGridRow { it.apply { // 2 val books = Bookstore.getBooks() for (book in books) { // 3 addCell { it.apply { // 4 addImage(createIcon(book.cover), ListBuilder.SMALL_IMAGE) // 5 addTitleText(book.title) // 6 addText(book.price) // 7 contentIntent = BookstoreActivity.buildPendingIntent(context, book.url) } } } } } //...

Also add the createIcon() method to the class:

private fun createIcon(@DrawableRes resId: Int) = IconCompat.createWithResource(context, resId)

In the above, you:

Add a new GridRowBuilder.

Get the books list from the data store.

For every book in the list, add a new cell to the row.

Add the book cover as an image to the cell.

Add the book title as titleText for the cell.

Add the book price as text for the cell.

Set the PendingIntent to be invoked by the primary action if the user taps on this cell in the row.

Build and run the Bookstore Slice configuration; you will see a screen like this:

Adding a Notification Icon

You can add a notification icon to your Slice to let users enable or disable notifications from your Bookstore app.

Add this addAction() before .build(), and add the getToggleNotificationAction() to the class. You’ll create a the BookstoreSliceBroadcastReceiver in a moment.

... // 1 .addAction(getToggleNotificationAction()) ...

private fun getToggleNotificationAction(): SliceAction { // 2 val pIntent = BookstoreSliceBroadcastReceiver.getToggleNotificationPendingIntent(context) // 3 val iconResId = NotificationSettings.getIcon() // 4 return SliceAction(pIntent, createIcon(iconResId), "Toggle Notification") }

Here, you:

Add a SliceAction to the ListBuilder.

Get a pendingIntent from a broadcast receiver called BookstoreSliceBroadcastReceiver. This broadcast receiver handles broadcasts when the user taps on the notification icon in your remote Slice.

Get the notification icon resource ID based on the notification state (enabled or disabled).

Create and return a new SliceAction with three parameters (pIntent, actionIcon, actionTitle).

Note: To send and receive data from your remote Slice to your app, you need to create a BroadcastReceiver!

Create the BookstoreSliceBroadcastReceiver class:

class BookstoreSliceBroadcastReceiver : BroadcastReceiver() { // 1 override fun onReceive(context: Context, intent: Intent) { // 2 val action = intent.action // 3 if (ACTION_TOGGLE_NOTIFICATION == action) { // 4 NotificationSettings.toggleNotification() // 5 val uri = Utility.getUri(context, BookstoreSliceProvider.BOOKSTORE_PATH) // 6 context.contentResolver.notifyChange(uri, null) } } companion object { // 7 const val ACTION_TOGGLE_NOTIFICATION = "com.raywenderlich.bookstore.ACTION_TOGGLE_NOTIFICATION" // 8 fun getToggleNotificationPendingIntent(context: Context): PendingIntent { // 9 val intent = Intent(context, BookstoreSliceBroadcastReceiver::class.java) // 10 intent.action = ACTION_TOGGLE_NOTIFICATION // 11 return PendingIntent.getBroadcast(context, 0, intent, FLAG_UPDATE_CURRENT) } } }

Here, you:

Implement onReceive() to receive broadcasts.

Get the action of the received broadcast.

Check if the action is equal to your ACTION_TOGGLE_NOTIFICATION.

Toggle the notification state.

Get the URI of the Bookstore Slice.

Notify the URI to update all of the presented Slices.

Create an action string constant to use with the toggle notification broadcast.

Create a method to get a PendingIntent to toggle the notification.

Create new intent for BookstoreSliceBroadcastReceiver.

Set the intent action to ACTION_TOGGLE_NOTIFICATION.

Return a broadcast PendingIntent with the intent you just created.

Next, declare BookstoreSliceBroadcastReceiver in the AndroidManifest.xml file as a child of the application element.

<receiver android:name=".BookstoreSliceBroadcastReceiver"/>

Build and run; you will see a screen like this:

Try to enable the notifications by tapping on the notification icon in your Slice; doing so will broadcast the notification toggle action to the BookstoreSliceBroadcastReceiver.

Open the Bookstore app and notice that the notification icon in the floating button is updated, as seen below:

Setting the Accent Color

You can set an accent color to tint all of the tintable items within the ListBuilder such as:

The icon in the primary action, which will be displayed in the shortcut mode.

Any icons in your slice.

Widgets: Switch, SeekBar and ProgressBar.

Add the following line to your ListBuilder before .build():

.setAccentColor(ContextCompat.getColor(context, R.color.colorAccent))

Build and run again. Notice that the notification icon color is changed from the accent color of the Slice Viewer app to the accent color you have set:

Display Modes

Slice viewers can display Slices in three display modes:

Large: The whole slice will be displayed.

Small: Only the header of the slice will be displayed.

Shortcut: Only the icon of the primary action of the header will be displayed.

You’ve aleady made your Slice compatible with the three modes by adding the following a summary to the Slice header within the apply block. The summary will be shown in the small mode instead of the subtitle.

Note: If you have not set a header to your ListBuilder, the first row added to your ListBuilder is displayed instead.

Build and run in the Slice Viewer app.

Put your Slice in Small mode by tapping on the right-top icon in the Slice Viewer app and select small; you will see a screen like this:

Put your Slice in the Shortcut mode by tapping on the right-top icon in the Slice Viewer app and select shortcut; you will see a screen like this:

And with that, you have finished your Slices tutorial!

Where to Go From Here?

You can download the completed project using the Download Materials button at the top or bottom of this tutorial.

Note: You’ll need to complete the instructions in the Slice viewer and Let the Slice viewer show your Slice sections to be able to run the final project.

During this tutorial you learned how to:

Create a Slice for a bookstore app.

Show the Slice on the surface of the Slice Viewer app.

Make the Slice interactive by adding a notification icon to let the user enable or disable notification without opening the app.

Make the Slice compatible with the different display modes.

Update the Slice with new data.

While you have learned how to incorporate Slices, note that, as of the writing this tutorial, the official Android documentation states: “Slices will start appearing soon for users, but you can start building today.”

You may also find it helpful to learn about RangeBuilder, which you can read about here.

And since Slices are a way to enhance App Actions, you may want to know more about App Actions, which you can learn about here.

Feel free to share your feedback or ask any questions in the comments below or in the forums!

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Android Slices: Getting Started published first on https://medium.com/@koresol