#mcs approved installers near me

[kaitycole]

New Beginnings (10.a)

Summary: It’s been four months since Drake and Riley went their separate ways. Riley has been spending her time between the Beaumont Estate and the Palace while Drake has been holed up in Lythikos.

This is the first part of the tenth installment of My Best Friend’s Wedding.

I recommend listening to Friends Don’t by Maddie and Tae, the lyrics are used as well as it fits Drake and Olivia.

A/N: I really am working to wrap this up but this part is going to come out in two pieces and then the ending will come. I swear I didn’t expect this, but I just write what comes to me, guys lol

Pairings: Drake x MC (past tense), Liam x MC (mentioned), Drake x Olivia (platonic??)

There’s also some smut, so by reading you are agreeing that you are 18+

Word Count: 2044

Tag List: @liamxs-world @lynn1214@mynameiskaylabella @mrswalkers-blog            @drakelover78@gardeningourmet @zilch3 @speedyoperarascalparty   @umccall71@mrsdrakewalkerblog @hopefulmoonobject  @sleepwalkingelite            @annekebbphotography @jared2612 @indiacater @lodberg  @lauradowning29 @dcbbw @araihc-ce @cora-nova @pedudley @custaroonie​

           He’s sitting in the wine cellar, well technically it’s a wine/whiskey cellar because Olivia added some shelves just for his whiskey. If you sent him a letter, it would probably be addressed a little something like this:

           Mr. Drake Walker

           The Cellar under the Stairs

           He doesn’t mind spending his days in the cellar, he actually preferred it to being around anything. In his opinion, it hasn’t been long enough since his disaster of a wedding for him to come out of hiding. It was only a month after their “wedding” that he saw Riley and Liam on the cover of a tabloid, showing off their relationship, as if Drake was never a part of the story.

           “Hey, Walker.” One of the Lythikos servants says to him as she comes down to gather a few bottles of wine.

           “Party tonight?”

           “There’s a state dinner tonight. To discuss the upcoming soc—” She pauses franticly, her eyes widening and she tries to think of something quick but draws a blank.

           “Social season? Whose getting married? Maxwell? Bertrand? Penelope?” He’s confused, he hasn’t been out of touch with everyone that long.

           “It’s best you speak to Lady Olivia,” she scurries up the stairs, disappearing.

           Well hell, guess its time to come out of here.

           He walks up the stairs, letting out a deep breath when he gets to the door before opening it. He hears conversation towards the ballroom so he heads in that direction.

           “Drake! You’re upstairs!” Olivia quickly smiles at him before dropping it so no one sees it. She notices that his stubble is overgrown and his hair is long enough to put in a short ponytail. He had been doing fine, he was sleeping in the guest room, eating regularly, and he wasn’t drinking more than a glass or two of whiskey a day. But once the tabloid cover came out, she found him more often in the wine cellar than in his room. She even found that he had put a cot in the cellar so he didn’t have to leave.

           It broke her heart to see him broken like this, to see him striped down to this raw shell of himself. Later that week she requested a section of the cellar be allotted to whiskey, just for him. Don’t ask her why she did, it just felt right. She thought maybe he’d after a day or two down there, he’d come upstairs, but it seemed he only came out when she was away.

           “Heh.” He runs his hands through his thick hair, it’s greasy from lack of care, “I uh…heard there was a state dinner.”

           Olivia’s eyes widen, she glances around looking to see who could have told. One of the kitchen maids look a little too red to Olivia, who is giving her the side eye. I guess I have to tell him.

           “Drake, let’s go to the study to talk, shall we?” She guides him down the hall before turning around to her servants, “Finish the ballroom decorations and I’d like to see tentative seating chart when I return.”

           The pair walk down the hall and slip into the study. Drake sits down in the chair that sits in front of a fireplace and Olivia takes the one across from him.

           “Just tell me what’s going on, Livy.”

           She cocks her head to the side, he hasn’t called her that in years. When she was a young girl, she hated it, but now. But now it made this weird fluttering sensation in her chest, yuck.

           “There’s a social season starting up in a few weeks. Today is a state dinner to see whom from Lythikos will represent it as the suitor.” Her words switch between no emotion and emotion because part of her is lying. Well not lying, but definitely withholding a huge piece of information.

           “I hadn’t heard from anyone.” He checks his phone, yup still on and working, he even checked his email that he never does, causing an annoying 538 notification to sit on the corner of the app.

           She takes a deep breath. She can sentence people to the dungeon, make the strongest man kneel to her with just one look, she always has control, but here she doesn’t. “Drake…it’s Liam.”

           He snorts, “Of course, doubt he’d be off the market long. Got bored of Riley already?” He stands up, pacing, mumbling to himself, “Maybe we can fix things and get back together.”

           “He’s marrying Riley, Drake.”

           He stops dead in his place, there’s anger in his eyes that Olivia has never seen, but it excites her.

           “Riley…? Already?” He sinks back into the chair and Olivia places her hand on his knee.

           “They have the courts approval, but for appearances they are doing a short social season. Something about unity and not looking so scandalous.”

           He starts laughing uncontrollably, he doubles over and Olivia swears he’s about to fall out of the chair.

           A psychotic break? Is that what he’s having right now? What the hell is wrong with him? Torture victims don’t even act this strange.

           “I’d really prefer if you didn’t die on this rug. Legend goes the first dagger was used on a rug just like this, many years ago. By a woman too.” She smirks.

           He clears his throat as the laughing stops and he sits up, he even wipes a tear from his eye, “Man, I really needed that laugh, Liv.”

           She stares at him, completely confused before he continues, “They think a social season will make this look less scandalous.” He starts chuckling again.

           Before she knows it, Olivia is laughing herself. She realizes just how ridiculous it sounds now. Thinking that making a few stops around Cordonia and pretending to be interesting in others before ultimately picking the American, that you either love or hate.

           “So, am I going to be asked to dinner?” Drake asks, after the two have calmed down.

           “Oh.” She’s taken aback, “I thought you hated those stuffy noble events?”

           He looks at the ground and smirks, “I wanted to help pick out who Riley’s competition will be.”

           “You’re on. Meet me here at 5:30?”

           Drake nods before walking back to his guest suite. Once he’s in the room, he leans forward, stretching his back. He starts unbuttoning his shirt and pulls it up over his head, dropping it on the floor. He stretches his arms in front of him, before undoing his pants and stepping out of them.

           What should I wear? These clothes are filthy and I don’t remember bringing many options. He turns on the hot water before heading back in the room to grab his phone.

           “Oh! I’m sorry!” Olivia shouts as her face reddens and she turns away.

           It wasn’t until Olivia turns away that Drake realizes he’s fully nude. Quickly, he grabs a pillow and holds it in front of himself.

           “I heard the shower,” she stammers, “I...I...was just going to bring this.” She places a bag on the bed.

           He gives her a puzzled look, “What’s that?”  

           She’s drawing a blank on the word she’s trying to say, “Uhm….uh….” a light bulb goes off, “Clothes! I had your clothes from New York sent here.”

           “Oh?”

           “I figured you wouldn’t go back to New York, so I had all your things packed up and put at your family’s cabin near the palace.”

           He rubs the back of his neck, almost dropping the pillow, “Oh. Thank you.”

           She points towards the door, “I’m going to…uhm…go.”

           Drake watches her rush out the door before getting in the shower.

           A blushing Olivia rushes down the hallway before stopping, leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath, she feels herself become damp. Of course, she thought Drake was easy on the eyes, but she wasn’t prepared for what she saw today.

           Has he always been that…attractive? Does he work out? That can’t be natural, he has to work out, right? And what he was packing wasn’t bad either, she bites her lip at that last thought before shaking it off and heading back to the dining room.

           The hot water runs down Drake’s back as the silence between the song change fills the room.

           The upbeat guitar strumming begins to spread, erases any silence that remained. The slight ting of the tambourine surprises him.

They don't cancel other plans Have conversations with nothing but their eyes They don't hear each other's names and forget to concentrate Hits a nerve and lights you up like dynamite

           Drake wasn’t really feeling any kind of lovey song, but this one he could tolerate. This one, he never thought of Riley when he heard it. There were several other songs that he would sing and think of her, but never this song. As if maybe, just maybe this song was being saved for someone else.

Friends don't call you in the middle of the night Couldn't even tell you why They just felt like saying "hi" Friends don't stand around, playing with their keys Finding reasons not to leave Trying to hide the chemistry

           His cheeks redden thinking back to Olivia walking in. Sure, she was beautiful, but they grew up together and came from different sides of the tracks. Good thing I’m not a grower, heh.

Drive a little too slow, take the long way home Get a little too close We do, but friends don't

           The lyrics swirl around the room, he closes his eyes, letting himself sway to the music. He feels relaxed, for the first time in weeks. Flashes of Riley start to appear before they fade into Olivia. He thinks about the way she ran her fingers through his hair the night of the wedding, the way she smelt which was a strong orchid scent that could be overwhelming but not to him.

They don't almost say "I love you" When they're downtown somewhere, just a little drunk They don't talk about the future and put each other in it And get chills with every accidental touch

           He recalls how caring she had been since he came to Lythikos and understanding she had been. He half expected her to slap him around and force him to sleep out in the snow until he stopped wallowing over Riley, but she never did.

I keep telling myself this might be nothing

But one look in your eyes and, God, there's something

           Drake places a hand on the shower wall for balance before using his other hand to stroke himself. It sucks in a quick breath, he couldn’t tell you how long it has been.

           Flashes of Olivia’s surprised face fill his mind as he slides his hand up and down, adding the slightest pressure to the head with his thumb. He thought of her making that face as his fingers slowly trailed down her thighs, his tongue exploring around her outer lips before delicately flicking the tip of his tongue on her clit. He imagines her moaning, her back arching as he slid his fingers into her wetness. He begins to pump his length faster as a deep moan leaves his lips.

           Drake gets lost in his thoughts of Olivia and before long, his breath hitches and spills his cum on the shower wall. Panting, he tries to catch his breath as he uses the shower head to rise off the wall before quickly rinsing himself off.

           He wraps a towel around his waist, cuts the water off and walks into his room. He quickly gets dressed, trying to shove the thoughts he’s just had to the back of his mind.

           I can’t have these thoughts right now. Olivia doesn’t feel that way, I definitely can’t feel that way about her. I can’t do another one-sided relationship.

           He pulls on his shoes, running his finger through his hair to get it out of his face while making a mental note that he needs to get it cut.

           Grabbing his phone, he cuts the music off, allowing the last line he hears to linger in the air.

You can lie to me and say you don't But I know you do, and I love you too

…

Get a little too close We do, but friends don't Uh uh uh Friends don't.

[lolablackwrites]

Writer’s Retreat (AU), Part 1 - James x MC x Zig

Summary: In need of a quiet space to work on her next book, MC (Charlotte) accepts the use of James’s cabin and meets an extremely handsome park ranger.

Notes: I just got the idea for this AU fic today so I’m playing with it a bit to see what I can do with it. I have a feeling this is going to be a long series, so hang on and thanks in advance for reading ❤️ This one isn’t NSFW but I promise that many installments will be, so if you love smut, stay tuned!

Also, I’m not wild about the name, so fair warning it might change later.

@destinio1, I know this seems like further evidence that I have it out for James, but I swear I don’t! He’s just the only one with enough money who could conceivably have a spare cabin laying around, it’s not his fault.

Fanfic Master List

The pavement gave way to a dirt road that wound its way through the dense trees. James had said the turnoff for the cabin was easy to miss so Charlotte was scanning the road intently, searching for the green mailbox he’d told her to watch for.

“Who the hell buys a green mailbox for a cabin in the woods?” Charlotte grumbled. Suddenly, she slammed on her brakes and her tires scraped against the dirt road. There it was, a dark green mailbox, just the same shade as a clump of pine needles, with “ASHTON” written on the side in white letters. Charlotte backed up her car slightly and then turned up the winding path.

“Seriously, use the cabin in Maine,” James urged, pressing the key into her hand. “It’ll give you the space you need to write.”

“Are you sure no one will mind?” Charlotte asked. “I’m not going to be surprised by your parents, am I?”

James smiled and shook his head.

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “I bought this place from my parents a few years ago since they never used it.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently. “Use it, write your next best seller.”

“Next?” Charlotte asked as she rolled her eyes. “Try first.”

“I thought your first book was great!” James exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Thanks, but it wasn’t exactly a best seller.”

James brushed off her comments and nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck.

“That’s only because people can’t appreciate literary genius. Not yet, anyway. But they will–you’re going to be great.”

Charlotte suspected that the only reason James had offered her the cabin was because of the wedding. June 15th was quickly approaching and although she wasn’t one to make a scene, James more than likely didn’t want her anywhere near his upcoming nuptials to Vanessa Kingsley, childhood friend, high school sweetheart, and Gloria Ashton-approved match–unlike Charlotte had been. Charlotte, James’s outspoken college girlfriend who was about as far from the social register as a person could get. Charlotte was the sort of person who needed scholarships to get through school, and the Ashtons were the kind of people that gave scholarships through foundations funded by $1,000 per plate dinners. The difference in economic class had never felt like a factor in Charlotte and James’s relationship, but she was certain that when they broke up after four years together, Gloria had breathed a sigh of relief that could have been heard from coast to coast. Then, a year ago, James had shown up at one of Charlotte’s book signings. He’d asked her to coffee when she was done, and then coffee had led to dinner, which had led to drinks, which had led to Charlotte’s apartment, the two of them reunited in an all too familiar embrace.

Charlotte often wondered if Vanessa knew about her. Then Charlotte usually wondered what she was doing with James in the first place. She’d never planned on being the other woman, it had just … happened. Every time, she swore she’d delete his number, stop answering the phone, refuse to see him, and yet she never did. Now she’d been exiled to his cabin in Maine, stashed far away from the wedding at his family’s glorious estate. It’s better this way. At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself.

When Charlotte pulled up to the cabin, she is reminded once again that the Ashtons are not like everyone else. At James’s first mention of a cabin, Charlotte had pictured a small house in the woods, nothing fancy. This house, however, is ridiculous. There’s a four car garage underneath the house, which has a massive deck that looks like it wraps around the whole building. Charlotte parked in front of the house and climbed out of her car, feeling like she should look for a servant’s entrance instead of using the front door. The place looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine and really, knowing the Ashtons, it probably had been. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the service: three bars. Not great, but it wasn’t like she was completely isolated. Charlotte hit the speed dial for her sister and held the phone to her ear.

“Hi, twin,” Kaitlyn said. “Was there a scarlet ‘A’ waiting for you at the cabin?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes. “I just wanted to let you know I got here.”

“How’s the house?”

“Massive,” Charlotte said as she popped open the trunk of her car and grabbed her duffle bag. “I’m definitely too poor and unimportant to be here.”

“Poor? Yes. Unimportant? Never,” Kaitlyn said. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be out there by yourself. I watched a movie once about a woman who was staying alone in a cabin and this guy in a bunny mask started stalking–”

“Kaitlyn, please don’t talk about horror movies. That hadn’t even occurred to me until right this second and now you’ve got me all paranoid … and very aware of how many windows this place has.” Charlotte climbed up the stairs to the front door and dug into her pocket for the key James had given her.

“Holy shit, Kaitlyn, you should see this place,” Charlotte said once she opened the door, dropping her bag on the floor.

“I’m sure it’s beautiful, but I still don’t get why you couldn’t just write at home in your apartment,” Kaitlyn said. “Why did you have to go all the way to Maine?”

“I need to get away from distractions,” Charlotte explained for what felt like the tenth time. “There’s too much pulling my attention at home. But out here, I can focus on writing which I really need to do, my editor is going to kill me if I don’t send him some pages soon.”

“Ah, yes, how is Zack?”

“Anxious for me to send him pages,” Charlotte said. “Hey, I should go get settled, I just wanted to let you know I’m here.”

“Okay, well, I’m glad you got in okay,” Kaitlyn said. “Call me if a murderer in a bunny mask knocks on the door.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes and hung up the phone. She knew her sister meant well, but Kaitlyn tended to forget that not everyone was as much of a horror movie junkie as she was.

Knock, knock, knock.

Charlotte whirled around to face the door and squealed, clapping a hand over her mouth. You’re being stupid, she scolded herself. There isn’t a murderer in a bunny mask knocking on the door at … she checked her watch. 2:30 in the afternoon.

“That’s what’s great about modern horror movies,” she could imagine Kaitlyn saying. “Instead of striking at midnight, the killers showing up during daylight hours and completely ignore the tropes.”

“God dammit, Kaitlyn,” Charlotte muttered as she walked to the door and peered through the peephole. Through the fisheye glass, she could see what looked like a green uniform.

“Is anyone there?” a male voice called, muffled by the thick door. “I’m from the forest service, James Ashton called and said someone would be coming up to the cabin.”

Charlotte opened the door and was about to speak but the words faltered in her mouth when she saw who was on the other side of the door. He was a tall man, a dark lock of hair falling out from underneath his hat across the honeyed, tanned skin of his forehead.

“Hi,” he said, stepping into the conversational gap. “I don’t know how well you could hear me, but I’m from the forest service. James Ashton called ahead and said someone would be staying here, asked if we could keep an eye on you.”

“Oh, that’s nice of him,” Charlotte said, shaking herself out of her thoughts. “Yeah, I’m going to be staying here for a while.” Idiot, he already knows that.

“Well, if you need anything, there’s a park ranger station not too far from here. I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself, let you know that we know you’re here. There’s a town nearby, Hull, if you need to get some groceries. You probably passed through it on your way here.”

Charlotte nodded. The town didn’t appear to be much bigger than a few blocks, but it appeared to have all the essentials, not the least of which looked to be a bar.

“Kind of a strange name for a town,” Charlotte said.

“We like our boating terms in Maine,” the park ranger said. “I guess we’re lucky though that the powers that be didn’t name the town ‘Flying Jib’ or something.”

Charlotte laughed and was rewarded with an appreciative smirk. God, he’s gorgeous.

“I’m Charlotte,” she said, offering her hand. He took it and shook. “Charlotte Ford.”

“Zig Ortega. Oh,” he said, dropping her hand to reach into his shirt pocket. He pulled out a card and handed it to her. “The number is probably posted somewhere in here, but, just in case, here’s the number of the ranger station if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” she said, accepting the card.

“Nice to meet you,” Zig said, tipping his hat at her before he turned and headed down the stairs.

“You, too,” she said, watching him leave. 

So much for a lack of distractions in the woods.

Part 2

[the-firebird69]

hey Justin Corks at your house unsupervised in the big truck is there and all the packs and all the other stuff that was ordered in those go-karts in the cart course is going in and it's a circle back and it's an 8-track and there is like one booth therefore start and finish those of the racist and a photobooth and it's all in place and there's like around 10 or 15 of those IndyCar small ones which is smaller than the other small ones

Hera

Zues

Ok ok put it back cork. Hecsays no I smash or it works you smash no ride. Ok. Ok we wait. My house too can't figure it out. If women do it

Wait wait Justin says in on my way.

Huge party 10000 ppl got a permit cops are at the Indy race cars. We won both they want them. Tons say bar restaraunt entertainment center and Justin smirks hey that's my house. Huge epiteths no but ok. He leans forwards don't do it until I'm there. His guys are out move ppl off. Drinks arexserbrd cocktails little weenies beer food nuts and hops big barrels cork piles it in a basket we provided long picnic tables there all day and drink yap. Dj is up. Rave music soon garb and other for sale. Caskets on the French guy from will Ferrell movie I bet on cruise. Huge crowds now. It's near the nostril.

Mistro pleaee

Hera Zues

Huge party Garth us the MC and loves it lays down the law lol corine has him.

Then this stop stop I get there my advice not his.

It's on the race in in it. He won't get on me but I'll finish. Racers arrive in racing jerseys. Local cable TV called is there setup a van. We provided stickers the whole van covered they are magnetic you can't tell. Says Cable Television Station small letters before local...and after...producers cut. The head of it arrived was handed a Mic lines and a piece and pass. He accepted lol. We outfitted the van too. Huge lights and cameras on it. No boom yet. He wants a boom we walk out if the woods with it. He goes on in 5. Live too. He insists on a delay we install it. He has a team. His dream. He starts shortly. No dep. Yet.

And in 3 2 1 he's on. Stuff about where..the show...and us a bit then the piece and traffic is re routed then this a nice show. And of force no of cars fun music and spirited fun. The request goes out Johnny dap the graves from Disney arrives shortly new car ready smaller per the circuits specs.

He's there he goes to interview is still on. Walkmi g. Says hi they talk. He's intrigued are you with the show no I am a competitor it's a circuit he laughs is this track legal it is. Not for the circuit though well can it be maybe. Judges arrive. Justin will. He calls they are there in 5. No major changes add a ramp and access road include safety area in the middle ramp the ends. More. He goes ok shows them designs they approve stamp and it starts soon. A rave to see who cuts the ribbon with Justin. He sees its value.

It's on the race Justin says. Champagne...the huge one and 2 more ready a stand setup for three. And wreath. It's on. Other media try and get in nope

Justin is pleased

It's on he gets it all ready plans it out.

Special pavement. All the rest rebuilt or is being.

Thor Freya

Zues Hera

Olympus

[purintarts]

RFA Reacts to “MC wants a sugar daddy”

Come on guys... There will always be that point of our life where we would want to get a sugar daddy (but can’t well... couldn’t)

By the way, in this scene, MC and the RFA gangs are just friends (perhaps more) but they are not dating yet. Especially with Jumin, why get a sugar daddy when you have daddy jumin?

Indulge it.

YOOSUNG

You scroll through your social media as you took a break from the assignment session with Yoosung

Yoosung was still writing up his report, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration

Scrolling through, you saw one of your friends posted a picture of themselves on another vacation overseas

You knew it wasn’t good to envy others but it is after all apart of the human’s nature and you knew you couldn’t afford to go to those places 

at least not yet.

Yoosung took a sip of his Starbucks, at the same time, you sighed

“I want a sugar daddy”

The poor boy chocked on his frappucino

“MC- what?!”

“What?”

“MC! A sugar daddy?”

“Oh come on Yoosung! You get someone to pay all your bills and you can go on vacations and shop till you drop! Well till he drops” you giggled

“MC! Those old people are just perverts who can get off and lure innocent girls with money! You can’t MC! Who knows what kind of illness or twisted scenes they have! YOU CAN’T”

Yoosung slammed his drink on the table

Seeing him worked up, you tried to stop a cheeky smile forming with biting your lower lip

The urge to prank the boy in front of you was intense

“I’m joking! But Yoosung... Do you think I can pull off being a sugar baby well?”

“Su-sugar baby?”

Yoosung knew what it meant to be a sugar baby and he couldn’t stop imagining you laying on the bed- face flushed, skin glistening with sweat, lips parted, eyes looking at him with full lust-

STOP IT YOOSUNG

His face flushed as he took big gulps of his frappucino

“Well Yoosung?”

“I can’t possibly answer that MC, I’m not a sugar daddy”

“So you think I can’t pulled it off?”

“aaa...MC! Do you know another word for uhhh... tender?”

ZEN

You were hanging out with Zen at his rooftop to drink, you were having a stressful week and needing to get some alcohol into your system and Zen was free for the evening

After a few shots, you were spilling out your thoughts to Zen who listened thoughtfully and giving his own piece of mind

“URGH! That’s it! I’m getting a Sugar Daddy!”

“Yea- WHAT?!”

“A. Sugar. Daddy. You know! Those people who lavish you with millions in a snap of fingers?”

“For your body! MC! How- What- NO!” 

Cue rambling nagging Zen

You stared at Zen who was red in the face, going off about how Sugar Daddies are worser than wolves

Your mind was slightly numb so you didn’t focus entirely on his long speech that was never ending especially in your tipsy state 

actually it’s been 10 minutes but that’s long enough

Cupping his face with both of your hands, he immediately stopped as you hush him

“Shhhh Zen shhh~ It’s just a thought, I don’t have the balls to actually get one! Or do I?”

You giggled and Zen pouted

“No more drinks for you MC!”

“NOOO ZENNY~!”

JAEHEE

You were having a day out with Jaehee, the girl finally had a day off and she wanted to spend her hard earn money that she never got to spend

Walking passed a Christian Louboutin boutique store, you couldn’t help but to admire the shoes with red base coating

“At times like this, I wish I have a sugar daddy”

Jaehee looked over at the heels that caught your stare with a hummed

“I understand what you mean”

“You thought of getting a sugar daddy before?”

“Of course I do! I’m a girl after all. Sometimes, I feel like quitting my job and get a sugar daddy so I can just stay at home. But between you and me, when you work in the business industry, you can meet lots of these ‘sugar daddies’ and they are more disgusting when you meet them”

“Are they that bad?”

“Let’s just say, they are like those old perverts you see in dramas but the only perks they have is money. It’s not worth it”

“I can only dream of it”

“Let that stay a dream MC” 

“But I want those shoes to become reality though” 

“Same”

JUMIN

You were having dinner with Jumin to talk about the upcoming party

As the dessert was placed on the table, you took a bite as you looked at the other guests in the restaurant

They were high class that’s for sure but a table of two that consists a man in his 60′s and a lady in her 20′s struck your attention

You knew they were definitely not father and daughter with the suggestive eyes and lingering touch of the man and definitely not married either as there were absence of a wedding band on the lady’s finger

Not to mention, the fact they were dining in the most secluded corner of the room as if they do not wish to get caught by anyone

You let out an amusing scoff as you sipped on your wine, the wheels of your thoughts began to turn

“Hey Jumin”

Jumin hummed as he set down his glass

“Is there any young sugar daddies?”

The man paused his movements as he glanced at you 

“Why do you ask MC?”

“Just wondering~ Sugar daddies are usually old men so I wonder if there are any young ones. Who knows? Maybe I can get one”

“Excuse me?”

“Well~ I’m just saying~ I mean who doesn’t want someone to spend their money on you. Despite that part urgh”

“MC, I am disappointed that you could even thought about that. I do not wish to regard you as those kind of girls, please stop”

You wanted to say more but you saw how Jumin’s face had turned red with anger especially how he clench his teeth and the glare on his eyes

You knew which girls he was talking about and who they were related to

“I’m joking Jumin... It’s a commoner’s joke you know”

“I don’t like this commoner’s joke, how could you think of these kind of things? I do not approve of you getting a sugar daddy”

“Well... As bad as it sounds sometimes when it gets hard, a sugar daddy is one of the options. I mean you get your bills paid and you don’t have to worry about your financial situation”

“MC... Are you in trouble? Do you need money? You can tell me, I can provide you some”

With that sentence, you couldn’t help but to laugh leaving confused Jumin who couldn’t understand what amuses you

“No Jumin! I’m good! But Jumin, you told me that you won’t approve of me getting a sugar daddy but you sound like one for a moment there”

“I...did?”

“Yes! Oh dear Jumin... Now I just imagined you as my sugar daddy, I’m sorry if the thought offends you, but I couldn’t help it”

Jumin paused and looked at you with wonder.

Him as your sugar daddy? He gives you money and you returning the favour with bed related benefits?

Somehow, the thought doesn’t irk him

“By the way Jumin, since it’s nearing the season, should we use the season’s colour as the theme colour?”

“I don’t mind” not at all

707

Seven had came over to the apartment to install the new alarms 

While waiting, you turned on the television and ended on a channel with one of the Hollywood celebrity lifestyles

Your eyes literally sparkled from the clothes they wore to the car they drive and damn those hot bodyguards

A life that would never happen even if you lived over 100 years

“I want a sugar daddy”

Seven paused his movements as he glanced at you

“Want me to hook you up MC?”

You frowned as you turned to look at him, meeting his nonchalant eyes

“Hook me up... with a sugar daddy?”

“Yep! In my field of job, I run into them a lot... Too much that I can’t even count”

“Are you serious?”

“If you want to though I suggest otherwise” 

Seven leaned in as if he was going to spill a major big secret to you

“As much as it is disgusting to sleep with a male who is older than your father, they won’t even last 10 seconds so you got nothing to lose”

You guffawed at his sentence making him laugh too

“I’m not joking!” 

“Oh god Seven! I can’t!”

“You get paid thousands for 10 seconds MC, it’s worth it”

“But I- Oh gosh!” 

The topic was dropped because you fell off from the sofa from laughing too much and Seven had to rubbed your back to ease the pain from the fall and laughter

[hannahlouillustration]

Art Director week

This week we were tasked to be art directors. we were paired up and one had to choose an article for the other and vice versa.

Illustrator’s POV

I was partnered with my friend Amara, and she gave me an article to create an editorial illustration for from The New Yorker Magazine titled “ Returning to Storm King”

The text went as follows:

“Few installations at the Hudson Valley sculpture park are new, but in this pandemic summer the park’s breeze, changing light, and theatre of clouds are novelty enough.

What’s with the metal-band-worthy name of Storm King, the marvellous sculpture park—or, better, landscape with sculptures in it—about fifty miles north of Manhattan, in Cornwall, New York? I’ve just spent some happy hours there, sprung from months of art deprivation, on the occasion of the Storm King Art Center’s reopening to visitors with timed tickets. The setting is thundery enough, under the mighty brow of one of the highest mountains of the Hudson Highlands, in a valley of variegated hills, lawns, meadows, forest, and waters, along with elegant alterations that include arboreal allées and plantings with deference to native flora—some five hundred acres hosting roughly a hundred art works. I hadn’t known, until I was told during my visit, that the park’s name owes its provenance to the Romantic exasperation of a writer who, in 1853, pressed locals to rebrand their principal mountain Storm King from—get ready—Butter Hill. That nineteenth-century embrace of the hyperbolic anticipated the moxie, in 1960, of two art-loving businessmen, Ralph E. Ogden and his son-in-law H. Peter Stern, who gradually acquired much of the valley. They founded the park as a nonprofit entity, made a museum of an existing château on a hilltop, and pondered the ambient possibilities of the terrain.

In 1967, Ogden bought thirteen works from the estate of America’s greatest sculptor, David Smith. Mostly made of welded steel, they deploy a repertoire of shapes, from the surreally animate to the nobly abstract, gracing dancerly postures with lyrical drawings in space. A suite of eight of them, currently installed under cathedralesque oak and black-walnut trees, is modestly scaled. Not so the vista-dominating, gestural arrays of mostly steel elements by a favorite of the collectors since 1968, Mark di Suvero, which at times suggest playground facilities for giants. Nine of those were supplemented last year by a three-year loan of “E=mc²” (1996-97)—a tower, more than ninety-two feet high, whose converging I-beam legs are topped by flaring forms in stainless steel that grab at the sky. Also monumental are two maximum-sized stabiles by art’s foremost bejeweller of air, indoors or out, Alexander Calder. There are major works, as well, by Richard Serra, Andy Goldsworthy, and, most recently, Maya Lin, whose earthwork “Storm King Wavefield” (2007-08) represents a vast expanse of mid-ocean waves, up to fifteen feet high, with grassy undulations.

Sculpture parks proliferated, worldwide, in the second half of the twentieth century, in the wake of an identity crisis for large three-dimensional art. Modernist austerity had stripped sculpture of its traditional architectural and civic functions: there were no more integrated niches and pedestals, few new formal gardens, and an epochal apathy regarding statues—until lately! (We are now practically neo-Victorian in our awakenings—rude, for the most part—to symbolism in statuary.) Never mind the odd plaza-plunked, vaguely humanist Henry Moore. Where could one put outsized works that were almost invariably abstract—modernism’s universalist ideals persisting—to give them a chance of seeming to mean something? In nature! Conjoining the made with the unmade, gratifying both. Sculpture parks emerged as game preserves and laboratories for big art. Storm King’s early concentration of works by relevant artists of the late nineteen-sixties and seventies includes some formulaic banalities, tending to presume a surefire magic in embowered angular geometry, but even there you may savor the zest of a moment when sculpture jumped into nature’s lap. The history is complicated and obscured, in the art world, by the contemporaneous development, in the sixties, of Minimalism, which, by engaging the physical presence of viewers, shrugs off its surroundings. (The park’s chastely white modular piece by Sol LeWitt doesn’t mind a bucolic site one way or another.) As a consequence, Minimalism sidelined poetic potencies that prove their lasting worth at Storm King.

Prior visitors won’t be kept away by learning that few installations in this pandemic summer are new. The park’s changing light, breezes, and theatre of clouds will do for novelty. The best recent addition, on view until November 9th, is “River Light” (2019), a ring of nine high-flying cyan-blue silk flags that Kiki Smith derived from a sun-sparkled film she made on a walk along the East River. Wind stirs the fabric to rippling, soft applause. The ensemble suggests a rallying point for angels. Also new is “A stone that thinks of Enceladus” (2020), a piece by a young New York-based artist, Martha Tuttle, which consists of a mowed field studded with boulders and cairns and rather hectically festooned with carved rocks and molded glass stones. Close by, propped on an island in a pond, is a startling curio, the hull of an America’s Cup-grade racing boat that, in 1994, was prettily decorated with a mermaid motif by Roy Lichtenstein. Its abrupt presence, which you may less look at than gawk at, invokes the metaphysical truth that everything has to be somewhere. Storm King’s prevalent rectitude might serve as a foil for other sorts of interesting shocks, within appropriate limits.”

The images needed to be 1980 x 2560 pixels and my art director wanted me to capture the hudson valley landscape in the image. 

I did some research of the sculpture park and sent my roughs in:

The third image was approved. 

I tried a new technique with this piece that I have been meaning to try for a while. I used Watercolour and coloured pencils to introduce some textures in my work and I drew the background and foreground seperately so that the image could have a collage-inspired feel to it. The collage style didn’t end up as I was hoping but I think that what it ended up looking like was just as interesting. 

I then used photoshop to merge them together (which was a lot more of a hassel than I was expecting as the drawings were bigger than my scanner at home so I had to scan the images in parts and photomerge them together on photoshop). I also added some extra details digitally (the clouds, leaves and ground) to create this final piece:

The art director was very happy with the image and had no major changes. 

I was also incredibly happy with this piece. The new medium really worked for me and I really feel as though this piece could be a turning point in my artwork.

Art Directors POV

I found a good article on Country Living magazine that I thought Amara would enjoy illustrating, as I know from her previous work that she enjoys drawing people and animals. For this task I pretended to be an art director for Country Living magazine in an attempt to make my emails as realistic as possible. 

The first email was as follows.

Hello,

I am an art dierctor for Country living Magazine, I came across your work and I would like you to create an illustration to accompany an upcoming article for our magazine.

The image would need to be full colour and 1280x720 pixels at 300 dpi

The article is as follows:

​

​Country Living Magazine

Dogs are our oldest and closest companions, new DNA has confirmed

Pups were domesticated before any other known species

We know that dogs are man's best friend, but new DNA has confirmed that they are in fact our oldest and closest companions, too.

The study, which was conducted at London's Crick Institute, found that dogs were domesticated before any other known species. Interestingly, it discovered that humans have had pet dogs for around 11,000 years, showing just how far back our love for them really goes.

Shining light on the "inextricable bond between dogs and humans", the study is based on DNA from 27 ancient canine specimens from around Europe, Siberia and the Near East.

"Dogs are our oldest and closest animal partner. Using DNA from ancient dogs is showing us just how far back our shared history goes and will ultimately help us understand when and where this deep relationship began," Greger Larson, a co-author from the University of Oxford, told BBC News.

Elsewhere in the research, they also found that the genetic patterns of dogs were fairly similar to that of humans. This is because when humans adopted dogs, they took them with them wherever they moved and shifted, strengthening their bond.

Anders Bergström, lead author and post-doctoral researcher at the Crick, also added: "If we look back more than four or five thousand years ago, we can see that Europe was a very diverse place when it came to dogs. Although the European dogs we see today come in such an extraordinary array of shapes and forms, genetically they derive from only a very narrow subset of the diversity that used to exist."

Just another reason to adopt one of your own...

Many thanks,

Hannah Jones

Art director for Country Living Magazine.

The same day, I heard back from her with attatched roughs. 

I liked the second one best as the concept was clever and the composition was very nice. 

After a short while she came back with two different options of the image. 

One without hands and one with hands, I prefered the image with hands as it showed the human connection with dogs more, which is what the article is all about. 

Overall, I was happy with the finished image so I approved it. I think she did a really good job.

You can follow Amara’s fantastic work at https://www.instagram.com/apiple_art/