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junghelioseok · 4 years ago

Text

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

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breesays · 3 years ago

Text

Desmond is Three

On Saturday, May 14, 2022, my little dude turned three years old. I threw him his first in real life birthday party at PlayLab in Eagle Rock - Bluey themed - and it was wonderful. I felt like I was getting back to my roots. I handmade all the party favors, which were references to different episodes - Keepy Uppy, Sticky Gecko, Grannies. I also made the cake, the cupcakes, the balloon arch and the banner - mostly out of frustration that what I saw on Etsy was so expensive (rightfully so, these things take time and precision) and also just not trusting anyone else to get my "vision." Listen, it's been YEARS since I've thrown a proper birthday party thanks to COVID, I put ALL my energy into this. Maybe he'll even remember it! I think I recall spending my 3rd birthday on a plane coming from England? Anyway.

Erica Lauren was kind enough to capture all of my efforts (which inadvertently, I swear, included both me and Des dressed in the party palette as well). Peek:

Some for the record stuff: He is 3 feet tall, 28 lbs and his one true love is BALLOONS. He also likes bouncy balls, beach balls, ping pong balls - but nothing else globular measures up to his love of balloons. His favorite food is applesauce and he's started inserting the word "actually" into his sentences. We sing songs before bed (Christina Perri, Bob Marley, The Zombies) but I can't leave it on after I leave the room or else he will yell "MAMA WHAT'S THIS ONE?" when it gets to Tom Petty and Panic! at the Disco (pretty odd, obvs). Right now one of his faves is the Weezer/Hayley Williams cover of "Rainbow Connection." Sometimes he asks, "What's this one?" when NO MUSIC is playing in what I gather is a nudge to get me to PLAY music when it is SUPPOSED to be QUIET time. He's a huge fan of the Hokey Pokey, and I didn't even teach him that one.

He likes to read The Wonky Donky and Circle. He says Juliette is his best friend but he likes to play kitchen with Arthur and make up silly words (didia, butbut, oompin) and giggle with Roman. He thinks I get EVERYTHING at Target. He likes to do "science" in the bath with bath bombs but washing his hair lately has been an ORDEAL. He's learning what he can and can't control, often demands we do things "first" or that he does things "ONLY." as in "I want to look out the window ONLY" (not Oli) or "I want to stand against the wall ONLY" (no one else). He will eat lemons without making a face. His favorite color is green. He speaks quietly around strangers but when in public has no problem asking "WHAT IS THAT GUY DOING?" very loudly (note: guy for him is a gender neutral term). He pretends to be a baby by saying "Goo goo gaga" but I remind him that he didn't say that at as a baby - he said "quack" and "puh" and "kiii."

He doesn't sleep as much as he used to. He can dress himself mostly but still has trouble with shirts. He's pretty good at soccer and is very teachable when it comes to physical movements. He knows several yoga poses. One time I woke him up from a nap by reading Mary Oliver poetry out loud and he especially liked the line, "Let me be a flower." "Yeah! Let me be a flower!" he said. He likes to draw suns and balloons and fireflies. He is always asking me to draw Bluey characters and I always have to look it up first. He likes going to the farm, but prefers picking fruits and vegetables to petting or feeding the animals. Sometimes if you ask him for a snuggle he will decline, but offer a "snug" as a consolation prize. Asking him how many more minutes he wants to play no longer works because he used to answer between 5 and 10 minutes but now he only asks for 60. He hates it when I vacuum but when he wants a homemade smoothie he asks for it "loud."

He's overall a pretty chill dude. An observer. He remembers everything. He still talks about a yellow bucket (RIP) that he got from the dentist when he was 1.5 years old. Sometimes he wants to paint his nails so we do. HOGGIE is still his ride or die - that plushie has been to museums, parks, the doctors office. He rubs hoggie's eyes at night, like they're worry stones. He recites the story of The Hungry Caterpillar to Hoggie on the way to school. I love hearing him talk and tell stories. I'm excited to take him on adventures, I love watching him make friends, and it's such a dang gift to see and hear him express himself and assert himself in new ways. I love rediscovering life with him.

#breesays #parenting #toddlerhood #bluey birthday #3rd birthday

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koteosa · 5 years ago

Text

here’s some modern au headcanons for the arcana ... it’s something I think about a lot

Asra

gamer memeing shitlord . he majored in minecraft you cannot convince me otherwise

plays A Lot of minecraft but also just enjoys any similar sort of game, sdv, animal crossing, etc. He’s really good at video games but he’s just fucking around . he likes to play online games and try his best to make everyone hate him in a really harmless sort of way . he heals the enemy spy . changes his display name and avatar to be exactly the same as someone else . tells people to go into the console and type unbindall

he plays games with his friends and he’s usually the top player so he just spends his time spoiling the shit out of his friends giving them good items carrying them through dungeons etc but not Julian, he tells Julian to dig straight down in minecraft . Julian doesn’t ever know what he’s doing in any video game so Asra trains him wrong on purpose, as a joke

anyway enough about video games (for now)

Asra lives in a van that he painted the exterior of himself, it was both a fun project and a very smug way to annoy people with this awful fucking hippie van strolling into town, eat shit

it’s decorated with crystals, furs, fairy lights, mason jars full of food For The Aesthetic, books, etc. It’s very cozy, cottagecore / bohemian and it’s ridiculously obvious that he’s into witchcraft. he just lets Faust explore because this isn’t real and I can pretend that a snake is exactly as well behaved as in a fantasy story

basically homeless by choice

drugs tw but I see him as the type to want to try anything and everything at least once so if he’s ever been offered A Drug (and he crashes parties for fun and for free food, so he’s got opportunities) he’ll try it Just To See, and this has resulted in some bad trips before, but Muriel saw him in the middle of one and then after he sobered up Muriel put his foot down and made Asra agree to only do these things as responsibly as possible, like, with supervision from a friend

still drugs tw but I also see Asra as a stoner but in the cbd edibles sort of way, a lot of this is because I headcanon Asra as having ADD (because I do and I want to project a little bit) so it helps him focus but also he just Likes It. the glove box of his car has like, chocolate/lollipop edibles stuff like that

goes between like super healthy elaborate meals with mushrooms and veggies and fresh meat and shit and then just eating nothing but cheez-its all day

style wise I see him as the type to wear a lot of tank tops, like, the loosest of tank tops so it hangs super low and long and you get some nice cleavage out of it, crystal necklaces, gold jewelry, pride pins/jewelry/etc (trans/nonbinary/bisexual flags), oversized hoodies with loud colorful patterns, joggers and other loose comfy pants, and either boots or slippers

he’s got like... the at home look that’s basically what I just described, and then the away from home look that’s got thirty layers and none of it makes sense and he just shows up in orange crocs With Patterned Socks and everyone who sees him just lets out the heaviest sigh

Asra getting home be like (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a l

He likes to go on long road trips completely at random and saves up money to go on more extensive trips like, out of the continent. It can be really hard to place him at any given time, especially because he’s extremely slow to respond to texts for a whole multitude of reasons. He just fucking vanishes sometimes and he doesn’t get that maybe people want to know where he is. He’s too solitary

He makes money either via street performances (magic, tarot readings, etc) or selling shit on etsy like handmade tarot decks, crystal necklaces, magic charms, etc. He Has Never Worked A Day In His Life and He Will Not Start Now

Responsibility? Don’t know her

People ask him really obnoxious questions sometimes and he makes outlandish lies to tell them for fun . Why do you live in a van? A house killed my parents

In the fall/winter he lives with Muriel or more to the point, he crashes on his couch for a really long time and Muriel’s landlord doesn’t need to know about it for rent purposes

Julian

he’s a highly paid doctor and your mother would love it if you’d marry him if not for the fact that he looks like he never left his teenage emo phase

PIERCINGS

There’s DEFINITELY at least one piercing on his d

he lives with Portia and Mazelinka and tries to handle all their expenses but Mazelinka won’t fucking let him

soundproofed his room but not because he’s a youtuber or anything but because he uh. y’know what I’m gonna let y’all figure this one out on your own

goes to like............. lgbt friendly bdsm clubs every now and then looking for someone to step on him and call him garbage it’s for his mental health you don’t understand

black turtlenecks . silver jewelry . distinguished but Edgy as well, black boots, winklepickers, doc martens, ohmygod this is my SHIT I’m giving him red plaid pants and a reversed cross necklace and a leather jacket that says some radical shit on the back and Lots of Rings . black jeans with tears in the knees and black eyeshadow, demonia boots, leather gloves, hhhhhhOHmy GOD

catch him at home in black leggings and a my chemical romance tshirt with holes in it . he wakes up in the morning with yesterday’s makeup and he just cleans it up a little and that’s good enough

fairly small bedroom because he’s usually never at home, but it’s still pretty clear what he’s into even if it’s not super decorated or elaborate, kind of just Default Room but with his stuff arranged throughout . band posters, black furniture, a bed that looks like a depressed vampire sleeps in it, a bookshelf but most of the books are scattered around his desk, bed, and the floor. there’s a taxidermy skull on display somewhere because it’s just so dramatic you gotta love it

plays a black electric violin

extremely out of tune with pop culture he still listens to 70-00s music and he doesn’t know what a minecraft is or why Asra keeps yelling CREEPER when he comes into the room nor why Portia yells back AW MAN

I googled it and he qualifies as a millennial but I still see him as such a fucking old man who doesn’t know how to use electronics

despite being a doctor he’s so unhealthy . he eats nothing but depression meals (or just, nothing) unless someone forces him to sit down and eat an actual meal . No Julian whiskey does not count for your daily water intake

Malak probably happened because Julian wouldn’t stop feeding every black bird he saw just for the aesthetic and that was like 17 years ago but they still show up at his window expecting almonds or whatever the fuck . he changes houses but they’re too smart . you try to be a cool gothic thespian with a raven that will pose on your arm ONE time when you’re a teenager and they just never stop coming

sad lonely no friends hasn’t been laid in six years because he’s too busy and no longer remembers how to form meaningful relationships. Portia keeps being like so I met this really hot (insert gender here) and like idk I think they’re into goth dudes............... just saying...................... and he’s like am I really so pathetic that I’m going to let my baby sister set up blind dates for me? Yes

would drive something very goth like a hearse or some shit if not for the fact that his family would make sure he ends up in a coffin in the back of it if he drove up in that shit . please . buy a normal fucking car . Julian . oh my god

he starts quoting melodramatic poetry at the slightest inconvenience . he is that “All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread. My cat stole my fucking garlic bread” meme

been arrested multiple times for general rowdiness but also for political activism . at this point Portia/Mazelinka will just sigh and pay his bail and they don’t even ask what he did this time . how does he still have a job? I wish I knew

theater kid

Muriel

lives in a rundown apartment in the shitty part of town because it’s all he can afford, it’s quiet, and no one will try to visit him (except Asra) because no one wants to go to THAT part of town . but no harm will likely ever befall him because he’s 6′10 and like three million pounds of raw muscle with battle scars like you gonna fuck with that? really?

even if he got robbed it wouldn’t matter because A) he doesn’t own anything B) Inanna will chase the thief away

depression man staying in his quiet rundown dark apartment distracting himself with idle hobbies and taking care of his dog to prevent the encroaching ennui from tearing him a new asshole

changes jobs frequently both because he never stands out therefore never gets taken on full time after the part time trial period, AND to protect himself from the horror of being known

works mostly things like construction, auto repair, dog sitting/walking/etc, woodworking, mostly hard labor but if he can convince granny to let a very scary but completely harmless man look after her bichon frise for the weekend then he’s pretty happy about that

in a similar manner, he orders everything online so cashiers/etc won’t start to recognize him. delivery workers leave everything outside his door and he just drags it inside after they leave like an itazura kitty coin bank

goes camping a lot because staying cooped up in his apartment is super bad for his mental health and he doesn’t like to take walks through the city for a multitude of reasons. he takes Inanna on walks through the woods instead

Asra is his only friend and that’s fine (it’s not fine)

convinced therapy doesn’t work and he wants nothing to do with it

doesn’t like using electronics and only keeps a few things around his house so Asra can use them when he’s around . Muriel has a phone (that Asra got for him) so he can text Asra, check the time, check the weather, google questions, and like, nothing else

pretty much only happy when something is about dogs. he wants to go to the pet store and look at the dogs but he needs Asra to go with him so Asra can distract the workers and Muriel can look at the puppies in peace

dresses in blacks, grays, greens, and browns for the most part, jacket with the hood up, tank tops, dark jeans with tears in them, brown boots with mud stains on them . functional, not particularly stylish, and if he’s going to be in public he doesn’t want to make it easy for anyone to see his face. at home it’s mostly no shirt + sweatpants/joggers/etc. doesn’t accessorize or put in any real effort. he doesn’t care what he looks like (because he’s convinced he’s not much to look at anyway)

lives that super eco friendly life like Asra does but it’s more that he just feels comfortable living like he’s always on a camping trip

he doesn’t want to eat junk like Asra does but if Asra shows up with mcdonalds then well he can’t really say no

the type who uses something until he absolutely cannot use it anymore instead of just buying a new one

has never been to a doctor, dentist, etc Ever. the most he can do is take Inanna to the vet because he loves her so much

drives a very old pickup truck with like, chipped paint and mud stains. he’d take better care of it if only anything in life mattered

didn’t go to school

Portia

I like to think that she took on a groundskeeping job at Nadia’s very expensive large house and they fell in love and now Nadia pays for everything and Portia just spends her time gardening, playing with Pepi, and like idk running a vlogging/gaming youtube channel

200 videos of Pepi on her youtube channel with 4 million views each bare minimum . takes random videos of cats where she has to audio edit it to shit so you can’t hear her high pitched squeals of delight

minecraft let’s play part 30 where her, Asra, Nadia, and Julian play together and it’s extremely chaotic because Asra and Portia decide to gang up on Julian who does NOT know what he’s doing, and then Nadia surprises them all by not being the bigger person and instead tricking Julian into some elaborate trap where he steps on a trapdoor and falls 15 blocks into some lava and he looks up and all he sees is Nadia’s smug fucking avatar looking down at him

nightcore. it’s just not FAST enough

wears sweaters with cats on them. generally dresses in warm colors + brown/green, it’s like a very soft cozy look that you could go camping in or just generally be outside and get grass stains and whatnot. cute, functional

likes to make Julian do things for her like drive her places etc because like, he will. he always will

really likes social gatherings with her friends; sleepovers, beach trips, sitting at mcdonalds and pouring all their fries into a pile etc. tries to get Julian to go with her but he’s Just So BUSY. she makes fun of him and makes him drive her to it, then manages to convince him to stay

cottagecore aesthetic . she just thinks it’s so cute to have the little mason jars and decorate everything with leaves and flowers and BEES and whatnot . would love to live in a little cottage with a farm if she could

her room has a big cat tree in it . green wallpaper with yellow flowers. pressed flowers into books, an extremely cozy bed, fairy lights, it’s very farmy but also there’s a lot of electronics. she’s got a lot of 00s games, like, right in that ps2 sweet spot

nicknames all of her pokemon

she spoils the ever loving shit out of Pepi. She’s got a little cat harness and they go on walks through the park together

I don’t have a lot to say about the other two I Am Sorry

#the arcana #julian devorak #asra alnazar #muriel #portia devorak #nix hydra #text #writing #modern au #headcanon #the arcana writing

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myfriendpokey · 7 years ago

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zine thoughts pt 2

where do you sell videogames? zine fairs, children's book stores, used record marts, from the trunk of a car like rudy ray moore, on etsy or on craiglist, with flyers on the wall of the local chip shop or library. through awkwardly hammered-together handmade electronic systems or the reverse, turning your game into a jumbled set of paper text and graphical fragments which can be sold in boardgame stores as some kind of reconstruct-the-narrative puzzle. you could make one-off bespoke games or game simulacra for movies that want to depict some kind of videogame being played onscreen without having to go through the licensing rights. you could ghost-develop games for wealthy people to put their names on ("american mcgee presents my life with princess diana by donald duck"). you could develop training games for the military-industrial complex, ha ha ha ha. you could get funded by the CIA to ensure the medium of videogames remains sufficiently arty and rehabilitated to function as propaganda for capitalism... i mean we already know they were involved with the paris review and iowa writer's workshop and all that jazz so they gotta have least a couple people on the payroll already, right, and we will all be treated to some very entertaining revelations following the inevitable freedom of information act request 15 years down the line. you could try connecting with the little self-contained fan communities for things like touhou, fnaf, undertale, m-minecraft, like those renaissance artists who had to drop their patron's face in the background of some religious scene except in this case it would be one of the homestuck guys. you could make "trainers" for more popular games, or demos that could show how they "feel" without a $60 investment. you could sell small games as assets for larger ones that want to have some kind of in-universe playable arcade system without having to invent a whole new game from scratch. you could just make extremely specific forms of pornography, maybe not the worst option even, just make sure the very artistic sequences of the protagonist remembering his dead wife are broken up every now and then with scenes of him unhinging his jaw to swallow and slowly digest another, smaller sad games protagonist whole (with rumble function for controllers!!!). you could make games for all the people who are still on windows xp or earlier or have some kind of arcane video card setup that prevents them playing anything other than that one preinstalled pinball game. you could try selling them at street vendors. you could try learning another language and making games for non-anglophones that don't sound like an english-written game that was localised without much thought after the fact. you could make games for kids in the hopes that they sexually imprint on them enough to support your erotic oil paintings of the characters 10 years later, just like nintendo. you could make an extremely interesting and thoughtful videogame and then offer not to release it if the donation threshold is met, thus sparing people the emotional obligation of having yet another thing on their should-play-this-eventually list. you could develop games with some bewildering system of in-game and real-world currency interactions and then sell it to the mob as a way to launder money. you could make videogames that robots record themselves playing to upload en masse which are then watched by other robots as part of some weird, ungraspably abstract SEO economy, or better yet make robots to make the videogames as well. you could make virtual cemetary plots either private (downloadable exe) or public (hosted on the server) with their own customisable mood-themes and weather settings (dark, stormy, remember-you-will-die; sunny, quiet, circle-of-life etc). you could make prosperity orbs. you could make games for office workers or call center staff which resemble excel documents or phone system frontends from a distance. you could make games which really ARE excel files, some dense collection of interlocking hidden formulas that change to display text and ascii characters as you tab your way through. you could probably talk your way into "adapting" any of those old IPs that still float around long after anyone stopped having any particular thought or feeling about them at all, like the flintstones or ziggy or something, maybe do like those 1960s superhero cartoons where they just filmed panels from the comics - just break a 2d flintstones cartoon into constituent elements and have them hover around in a little cutout diorama that you fly thru, possibly explained in-universe as representing the 4-d vision of the great gazoo. you could make games that play themselves, for the depressed. you could become a ghastly serial m**derer where after each crime you upload a new game to itchio which will reveal the name of your next victim, and costs only $9.99, and of course everyone buys and plays it because the police have put up a reward for solving the crime because they can't get past the dinosaur on level three, and all seems lost until some plucky young computer student who found the game on a friend's hard drive manages to solve the riddle hidden within the game's structure, following the clues, to an old castle, she knocks on the door, it's opened by, yes, it's will wright, wearing a wizard outfit, who tells her that by dint of solving all the puzzles she is now invited to join that mysterious organization known as "The Elect" which is assembled from the finest minds in all game design with a view to secretly controlling the world economy (via "werewolf blood", somehow), that she need only complete the ceremony by sacrificing one untutored soul, he holds out an ornate knife, she hesitates........

the question is where to sell videogames rather than how because for the most part we already know how - there are a million more or less instructive articles out there about hitting up conventions or talking to the press, and it's not that they're wrong, exactly, more that they expect to be applied in an environment that no longer exists. but what should preface and qualify the idea of sheer volume swamping the indie games market is that, outside of a few small pockets, there never really was an "indie games market" to begin with - indie games drew and mostly still draw on the existing videogames market, rather than constituting a new one. it's telling that the glory days of indie games were just the ones where they were able to draw upon some of the same privileges larger titles already had in the ability to access that same audience - being frontpaged by steam, say, or making it onto a comparatively closed console platform, or generating earnest thinkpieces... you could say that they were tapping into structures the industry had already built but had not yet occupied to full capacity.

of course there are exceptions and various efforts to set up new economies for small weird interactive things (like patreon, or game bundles), and some efforts to reach outside the existing games audience likely were successful - but when we think of indie games "functioning" economically, whether that means supporting a small team, a single person, or just hitting minimum wage per hours spent, i believe we're mostly still talking about ones which are built around the existing games economy. which is fine, but i think it's also intrinsically precarious in ways which maybe get glossed over in discussions of the "indiepocalypse" - are all those new steam releases really causing a problem or are they just exacerbating a structural limitation which was already always there, a reliance within the indie game economy on a certain lucky-few-ism which just became grossly more noticeable the more disproportionate it got?

of course it's easier to be dismissive after the fact, and my fantasy about "where" to sell videogames is partly a fantasy of them having a location to begin with - of attaining something of the grounded and immutable appearance of the non-digital, as though brick and mortar stores don't have a relationship to the likes of amazon as basically precarious as any online storefront. and there are also real and obvious reasons why the various videogame audiences all tend to clump together - similarities in terms of the hardware required, the inputs allowed, of visual and cultural reference points, to say nothing of the personal / professional histories of the people involved in each. we are all contained within "the medium"...

so maybe it's also a fantasy of starting to pick apart that conception of the medium. i think small game developers already have more in common with artists or musicians working on the fringes of their respective industries than they do with even moderately successful teams within the same format, and use similar language, engage in similar forms of practice - particularly as near everything comes increasingly mediated by the digital these days. i think they already ARE working in similar spaces to some extent, whether it's social media sites or digital storefronts or meatspace stores pushed by necessity not to specialise. and without wanting to be paranoid (or moreso than the CIA thing, at least) i think we should be cautious of the way a certain focus on mediumicity can obscure these overlaps. a "new medium" is one which inherently pushes against the image of one as grouded ahistorically in some eternal human verity or other (where each medium supposedly embodies some different mode of perception / medieval humour / ninja turtle etc) - it is to see firsthand the way in which supposedly eternal, neutral qualities are materially constructed, which includes seeing forms of social organisation and usage become mystified into extrahuman conditions. and given their basis in technology that includes drawing from wider trends in the use of that technology as a whole - which specifically, in tech circles, can mean more and more tightly interlocking systems of proprietary knowledge and speculative capital, as well as "new mediums" constructed so as to be inseperable from some storefront, website or monitoring technology. i don't think anybody will necessarily break even taking their games to a zine fair (not that they're breaking even now). but i do feel like trying to build networks across those medium boundaries could be more valuable in the effort to build some sustainable environment for these things than any amount of reform within the house that tech built.

[PS: it occurs to me that you could plausibly argue that the very bagginess of medium-centric formulations is what makes them valuable, in forcing many different groups to butt against each other on one platform rather than just disperse into echo chambers. but i think exactly the reverse is the case: nobody really engages with each other's work in artgames because the stakes are simultaneously too small and too large. they're too small in that however much i might be picky about another person's work - and i think it's this vague pickiness or sense of not-quite-right-ness that drives the most searching critiques - it still feels pointless to pursue that instead of the glaring, omnipresent faults of the big AAA players, which means more complaining about far cry for all eternity. and they're too large in that most small game development is so precarious that it's not really worth the risk of knocking someone out of the circle over penny-ante shit. only with both economic security and broad similarity of outlook can a truly vital, human culture of spiteful cattiness begin... our day will come]

(image credits: Eco Fighter, World Heroes 2 ,The Space Adventure, Nancy)

#zines #vgames #talk talk

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thecalicocaptaincatlady-blog · 8 years ago

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A Review of Chutney and Herb’s Handmade Cat Beds

Another of Captain’s birthday gifts she received (which I didn’t tell you about last week), was a stunning dark pink crocheted bed which creator, Chutney and Herb, had sent to Captain to test out to make sure it would be worthy enough for our website. I feared this would be a short blog as I popped the bed on my ottoman in my bedroom, while I quickly ran downstairs to get some more cat food, and by the time I returned, there Captain was, curled up in the bed.

We (me) now call it her day bed as that’s where she snoozes during the day while I’m blogging or tidying – and then when it’s finally time for me to get into bed – she wanders over to her night time bed which is where the second pillow should be, on my double bed. Yes, I am on the wrong side of twenty, sharing my bed with a cat. I am a strong, independent single woman. That is what I keep telling myself anyway! As you can see above, all of the cats have been bravely trying to pinch Captain’s new bed - a testament to how comfy it must be for them.

Now that the beds had passed the test, I wanted to get to know the creator of Chutney and Herb a bit better. Cue my first ever interview:

1. Why is your business called Chutney and Herb?

Chutney is my Westie puppy and Herbie is my sister's cat and they're genuinely best friends. There are 9 days between them so they probably won't remember life without each other, so it just made sense for me to name my business after them. 2. What inspired you to decide to create a business?

I've always been quite creative and always wanted my own business. I used to make random things for my cats and then when I got my dog I started making things for her too and I really enjoyed it so I started thinking about products I can make and sell to other pet owners.

3. How old were you when you started crocheting?

I think I've been crocheting since I was about 14

4. What made you want to learn how to crochet?

I just really liked the look of it and fancied giving it go. I learnt to knit first, I enjoy knitting too but I prefer crocheting.

5. Which cat (if any) inspired you to crochet them a bed?

I crocheted my dog a bed first because I'd just moved to a new house and couldn't find her bed anywhere so I decided to make her one then I made Matilda who is one of my cats one to test it out as I'd decided to sell them at this point. 6. If a close family pet then what were they called and what were their quirks and personalities like? The dog is Chutney and she genuinely thinks she's a cat, she's a really good dog and is just really chilled out. Matilda is a bit mad, she's quite a human cat, is really friendly and she ends up with a lot of beds and other things that I make because she claims them and I'm too soft to take them off her. 7. What did you want to do when you grew up when you were little?

I wanted to work in film or TV (behind the camera not in front of it or own my own business. 8. What was school life like? did you know what you wanted to study at the time? Or were you just floating through options not sure what you wanted to study until college/uni if any apply?

I liked school but I really didn't like college at all. I enjoyed Media so I studied that as a BTEC at college. I finished college early then got an Apprenticeship in Business and Administration which I enjoyed. I really didn't fancy going to Uni.

9. Are you a cat or a dog person? I'm very much a cat person who has a dog. However, Chutney thinks she's a cat so I have the best of both worlds really!

I’m over the moon to confirm I will be stocking Chutney and Herb beds and mats for your fur babies as soon as the website goes live. Prices starting from just £21 for a mat and £24 for a snuggly bed. You can see from the image above that these beds have tonnes of room for your kitty. Captain fits in it perfectly (as she is a curvy kitty) and as Belleville is on the smaller side, you can see all the stretching space she has.

The best thing about these beds (apart from their luxurious feel) is that they come in a huge array of different and unusual colours. Perfect if you’re after a unique bed for your kitty. Beds are still available to purrchase from Chutney and Herb’s Etsy shop – so if you’re feeling impatient and need to get your paws on one of these immediately – head to the website by following the link below.

https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/ChutneyAndHerb

As always cat lovers, I hope you have a fantastic week ahead!

Much love, as always,

The Cat Lady

xxx

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katvondworld · 8 years ago

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So proud to have been interviewed for the #GlennGould Foundation! I'm such a huge fan!

GGF: In some of your interviews, you’ve described yourself as an outsider. And that’s partly expressed through tattoos – the tattoos you have on you, and also the ones you create. But I think that’s something that people see about Gould as well, that he charted his own course. He didn’t crave a traditional style of sociability and social interaction. What everyone said was the successful path for a classical career, spending his life giving concerts and only making records on the side, he basically turned on its ear and you know, he gave his last public concert in L.A.KvD: Yeah, yeah.GGF: At the Wilshire Ebel Theatre. KvD: That’s amazing.GGF: So I think that’s something that you and he share in a way.KvD: Wow, that’s a great compliment. And I think, it’s natural to feel like an outsider. I mean a lot of people say, “oh, it’s the artist’s way.” But I don’t. I felt like an outsider before I knew what a tattoo was, that’s my own life experience. You can also practice and master anything but I think what makes you different from anyone is your experiences and where you come from, and how that shapes the way you apply it. And that’s also what makes music and art so beautiful and different. I guess my heart responds to the struggle. I can see that in Glenn’s music as well as other artists that I absolutely love, including Beethoven.GGF: Obviously something else that you and Glenn share is your love of animals which you talked about at the start, and it seems that that special communication or even communion that people have with the animals in their lives, that was very powerful for him and I take it that it’s really super-important in your life, too.KvD: Oh it’s a huge part of my life. Most of the time, I don’t want to say that I relate to animals better, but I definitely admire animals a lot more (laughs). You know, I just look at my cats. I’m just in awe of their spirit and their amazing ability to just be. My little cat, Piaf, who I named after Edith Piaf, he was the runt of the litter His mother abandoned him and he wasn’t even supposed to survive. He’s this sweet little baby . . . he looks like a bird to me. I look at him and go, wow, I have a fucked up relationship with my Mom and I’ve had to have therapy over it, and really work on issues, then I think, Piaf was abandoned and somehow has no Mom issues! He’s so enlightened that he doesn’t even need forgiveness; he just is. And I want to be like that. I can’t imagine I’d ever get there, but I admire that for sure.And I think, too, that the more connected we are to our environment, whether it’s animals, plants or whatever, the dirt, that clear connection of how we are nothing without them, it’s so important and it’s something that we’ve lost and becomes more blurry as time goes on. With technology, there’s great things that come from it but also, there’s such huge distractions. And it’s the same with music: there are great technologies that afford us the opportunity to learn and produce music in different and easier ways, but at the same time, I see fewer kids playing instruments. Even on my Instagram, you know, I always try to post videos of me playing the piano, whether it’s a Cure song or a Beethoven song. And it’s to show people, look, I’m just some chick that came from Mexico and didn’t even go to high school but if I can do this, you can do it, so let’s break it down. I want to live in a world where there’s tons of Glenn Goulds, you know? (laughs) That’s what I want.GGF: So did he. He said technology would allow more people to become artists. This was an interview I think he gave in 1967. He said, today we have stereo sets in our homes, we can can turn up the bass and treble but that’s nowhere near the power we’ll have in the future. Then we’ll be able to not have guys like me (Glenn) telling people how to listen to Beethoven; they’ll be able to get what he called a “box of takes” from someone else’s recording sessions and create the version that they hear in their own heads, with technology that everyone can afford. And of course, we have that now. But we also have a lot of what I call “background noise” and distractions, and that makes it harder in some ways . . .KvD: It’s so much harder to focus.GGF: With the overstimulation, to find those moments of stillness and inward tranquility – what Gould called the solitude that’s the precondition for spiritual enlightenment, which he found in the North. And I sense that you find that in the environment that you’ve created very meticulously and beautifully in your home.KvD: Yeah!GGF: You call it Kat’s Closet, and you’re surrounded by beautiful handmade things that you’ve assembled.KvD: Yeah. I’m super particular about conscious living. That’s my ultimate goal, and it hits all aspects of life. Some people from outside look in and say, “oh, she’s neurotic about certain things.” I am strict about what goes in my mind on a conscious level and an unconscious level. You know, I don’t have a television in my house. I do like to watch movies so I can watch them on my laptop. But I try to avoid screens as much as possible. You described it perfectly, it’s a lot of background noise. But I think that also, your surroundings, wherever you spend a lot of time, it’s important to treat every corner of it with intention. Nothing in my house is there by accident. I think when you start taking care of everything that you do, whether it’s how you eat, what you listen to, even.I’m relaunching some fragrance that I had launched years ago but is back in demand, and I remember that process was so amazing. We had to do all these blind tests where they put all these fragrances in bottles with no labels and I had to tell by nose what fragrances I liked and what I don’t like. And they take all these notes and then they can tell you what kinds of fragrance you actually do like. When I got the results back, you know what?- the perfumes I thought I loved, I actually do love them. Whereas, you know, you look at [names a famous perfume], which is one of that company’s top-selling perfumes, fails the blind test 100% across the board. Nobody likes it when it’s not in the package. But once it’s in the package, they love it. See, when I heard that story, I thought, wow! – I don’t want to be that person that thinks they like something and then realizes that they don’t. Or maybe, sadly enough, never really realize what they truly like and what’s important to them. Like, do you really love the music that you listen to, or is it just that you’ve been hypnotized by what’s forced down your ears? To me that’s really crucial. So I’m a stickler about that, and in the house, I look at every room and say, what’s the intention of that room? I’m not as fancy as people might think, you know, when you look at my house and it’s like, “wow! It’s so beautiful.” And I’m like, “I made that.” I usually try to make stuff. You know, like all the stuff that folks think is fancy, I assembled that. You know like pianos, I collect old, weirdo obscure instruments. I never really had a fancy, nice piano until nine years ago or so when my buddy was low on cash. He had a beautiful baby grand and so I bought it off of him for like a grand. That’s the first time I owned and played a beautiful piano. But it ain’t no Steinway. (laughs)GGF: Give yourself time – you’ll have a Steinway or a Bosendorfer yet, if you want one.KvD: I’ve been lucky enough to play those at studios and stuff, but my point is that there’s so many pianos on Craigslist and small pianos, too, that fit in your room that when people say, “oh, I wish I could play,” – dude, get a piano! Couple hundred bucks, man! I know a guy that tunes it for a hundred bucks, and then you’re set!GGF: I know, plus it’s the best piece of furniture you could ever haveKvD: Beautiful!GGF: If you have a picture or a piece of sculpture, stick it on a piano!KvD: Yeah, sure (laughs).GGF: But it strikes me that you have a real feel for things that are hand-made, that people have put their soul into, and that’s a kind of connection between you and William Morris and the Arts and Crafts movement.KvD: Yeah, I’m a huge fan of hand-made things. There’s a certain quality that just cannot be replaced with the digital era. Photography is a perfect example of that. These digital cameras are amazing, that can capture something with such clarity, but . . . there’s a certain sentiment, I guess, a feel, a quality, that just can’t and won’t compare with film. That’s because there’s a human imprint on it. Etsy’s one of my favourite places to shop, to discover new Indie designers, because this is the voice of the people. When you look at huge corporations it’s not the voice of the people, it’s the voices of a marketing team interpreting what the people want – or think they want. There’s a certain magic that you lose. I do clearly see that difference and to me, when you hold something in your hand and think of another human being’s part to do with it, it’s an amazing thing. It’s a gem, it’s a treasure.GGF: There’s a connection between you and the maker that somehow transcends stuff made out of plastic and stamped out of a plastic extrusion machine.KvD: Yeah, most definitely. And I think, too, even on a subconscious level, people understand it as well, when they see something that’s hand made by an artisan. I always love when you don’t have a big corporation or a corporate approach, the freedom of creativity is still intact. That’s what I love about all these little independent designers is that, oh man! – this is so much more fulfilled than playing it safe. I wrote an album that I never released. When I sat down with my friends to write it, we just closed the doors and just turned everything off, and just played. We didn’t time it, oh, it’s gotta be under three minutes to get radio, and hey, we gotta add a hook . . . we said, let’s just create for the sake of creating, and it’s something that I can be proud of. That’s how it should be. That’s how Beethoven did it, and that’s how a lot of modern-day musicians that I love do it as well. I think there’s something liberating in that.GGF: Absolutely . . . plus there’s a connection. You know, when you touch a hand-made object I feel like my hand is touching the artist’s hand. It’s not perfect in the sense that it came out of a mold – it’s perfect in the sense that it came out of someone’s heart.KvD: Sure. My biggest gripe with humanity, I guess, is that we live in a world where a majority of people are just constantly taking. You take and take and take from the planet, from each other. And the more time that passes, the less it seems that people are actually producing and giving anything back. That’s why I think art is one of humanity’s most redeeming qualities, it’s the least we can do. When there’s more people like that, to me, that’s the hero quality. It’s not about ego, I resent these people who say, “I wanna be a legend, I wanna leave a mark.” You know, when you’re dead, you’re fuckin’ dead, it doesn’t matter what you did. And if climate change goes any further – which it will – and our entire environment collapses, none of this will have mattered. But during the time that you were here, what did you bring to the table? Or did you just take? I resent this very selfish way of living, it’s just not something that I admire. In fact, that’s something I love about animals, they do it by default – what they take, they put back. (laughs)GGF: You’re right. And I think you can describe it as selfish, but maybe it’s more of an illusion. A lot of Eastern religions see things in this way. We’re aware that we’re going to die, we can’t really deal with that, so we create the illusion of an eternity perspective, you know?KvD: Yeah. It’s the one thing we’ve never experienced yet.GGF: Well, all it’ll take is a great comet strike and that’ll settle that issue once and for all!KvD: Yeah, sure.GGF: We definitely live in a time that’s given us a lot of tools to make it – it’s always been possible – but let’s say that the barriers to entry have come down in a big way –KvD: For Sure.GGF: . . . and the ability to connect instantly with a larger community, obviously is something that never existed. That’s something that Glenn obviously thought and wrote a lot about when he gave up playing in public, but . . .KvD: Right.GGF: . . . but the sort of pressure to conform to what generally is regarded as a successful life . . .KvD: Sure.GGF: You know . . . you go through your schooling, you get your university degree, you get out into a profession,KvD: . . . and you get married and have kids and a house with a white picket fence, but you know, when we realize that that is super-illusionary, it’s quite liberating. I remember telling my Dad “Hey, Dad, I may not be the richest person,” when I was first tattooing, “but you know, I work at a tattoo shop, and that might not be considered quote-unquote a “real job,” but I whistle on the way to work every day when I walk over there.” You know, I’m not working my ass off for something I don’t believe in. And I think that’s just so crucial. And also that, to me, is so realistic.GGF: You remind of that line from Porgy and Bess: “Folks with plenty of plenty / Got a lock on their door / ‘Fraid somebody’s gonna rob ‘em while they’re out a-makin’ more / What for?”KvD: Yeah, that’s true. But you know, I think that is a social dynamic and it happens across the board. It’s not just with wealthy people, I think it happens in every social circle. We tend to be mesmerized by a false sense of what’s important – we tend to get dazzled by these goals . . . like Fool’s Gold, you know? And we treat people differently that way. To me, I find it refreshing when you feel the sincerity in somebody and you have a real conversation versus that feeling of, “what does that person want from me?” I know I’ve been really fortunate to be surrounded by good people. Even as I was becoming more quote-unquote “successful” and bigger and all that stuff, I just always hung out with my friends. I don’t have that many friends, but the ones I do are just solid and amazing – and my family, and I refuse to have yes-men around me. What’s the point of living like that?GGF: When was the first time you encountered Glenn Gould. What are your memories – do you remember which record it was?KvD: It’s a funny story because the person who introduced me to Glenn Gould was not somebody you’d think would introduce me to him. At the time I was writing music with Paul B. Cutler. He was the guitarist for a punk-goth band from the eighties called 45 Graves, and one of my favourite people of all time. We really, truly connected on music – not modern music: we loved Gregorian chanting and classical and medieval, you know? We loved the old stuff – not vintage! He knew how much I loved Beethoven, and my favourite Beethoven piece is the Sonata Pathétique. So he said, “have you heard Glenn Gould’s version of it?” and I’m like, “Who’s Glenn Gould?” “You don’t know who Glenn Gould is?” And I remember saying, “I have no idea!” And he was like, “You would love him!” and he introduced Glenn’s personality by describing him. Paul’s such a wizard with words, that I automatically knew I would love this person whoever he was, and so we went on a crazy Youtube binge, watching Glenn’s performances and things like that.Then I just began obsessively collecting as many records as I could possibly get. One of my favourite things about Glenn, was that every recording was so different. Different variations of the same song but played like – I felt like this was just like, the true spirit of that music. And for me it was so amazing to see somebody that was cool – you know, he was so cool! It’s shocking it’s like a sexy comedian, something you just don’t ever see, you know what I mean?And the more and more I learned about him as a person, the more it made me love and appreciate his approach to music. I say, man, I have been playing the same pieces from my childhood, you know, these masterpieces by the old Greats, and it never gets old. And isn’t that a trip that you spend your entire life trying to master an instrument, you can end up performing in front of a lot of people and get all kinds of crazy awards, and applause, and you can build a career playing somebody else’s music, whereas if you cover a Beatle’s song, you’re just in a cover band. And I think that’s the tremendous power of that type of music. And I feel that ‘til this day nobody has topped it. Of course, there’s still great music – I mean, the Beatles are great in their own right, too, but I feel nothing’s ever been as ground-breaking as the Beethovens of this world and I don’t foresee anything topping them either, and Glenn really celebrated that. So that was my introduction to Glenn. And it’s also kinda funny that the guy who introduced me is probably the gothiest punk rock guy that ever walked the planet, you know? (laughs)Kat von D talks about Music, Life, Art, and Glenn Gould

Celebrated tattoo artist and TV personality Kat von D is one of the true originals of contemporary popular culture. She has not only built a huge fan base including a vast following on social media, but launched a highly successful cosmetics line, Kat von D Beauty. While many associate her with punk and goth culture, her artistic interests are all-encompassing, starting with her childhood love of classical music, and particularly Beethoven. She is a dedicated vegan, a lover of Old Master painting, and as we discovered, a passionate admirer of Glenn Gould. We caught up with Kat and spoke with her from her home in Los Angeles in a wide-ranging conversation about her life and ideas about music, art and keeping it real in an increasingly consumer-driven world.

GGF: This is Brian Levine at The Glenn Gould Foundation and I’m very happy to be talking today with Kat von D, tattoo artist, fashion icon, makeup entrepreneur, musician, vegan, social media star, and very accomplished artist in her own right, and also a pianist and admirer of Glenn Gould and Beethoven. That’s a lot to fit in – you must be on the move all the time.

KvD (chuckling): Yeah, and on top of that, I’m a crazy cat lady, so . . .

GGF: How many cats do you have?

KvD: I just have two, but I love them a lot.

GGF: Glenn Gould would have been very happy to hear about that because as you probably know, he was a pretty passionate animal lover himself.

KvD: That’s awesome!

GGF: I think when he was five or six years old, he took his first stab at composing and he created a little kiddie opera in which all the people were extinct, and it was only the cats and dogs that were running things.

KvD: Oh, my god – I gotta get my hands on that! (laughs)

GGF: I understand you still play the piano?

KvD: Yeah, I started playing when I was five years old. My grandmother is a classically trained pianist, and she taught the three of us, my brother, sister and I. I was the only one that really stuck with it, and my first obsession was with classical music, particularly Beethoven. My grandmother herself was a huge fan, and so, I remember every week when we’d go over for piano lessons, she had this book, it was – I don’t know how to describe it – it was kind of a, like a scrapbook of articles and drawings and paintings. She was a painter herself, also, a really good one, and I actually should say she still is because she still paints and plays piano. I used to pore over this book and read everything. Of course it was in Spanish – my family’s from Argentina – there were clippings from the 1930’s and ‘40’s. You could see advertisements from back in the day. And basically my grandmother knew every myth, legend and story about Beethoven as well as all the other greats.

Beethoven’s story obviously was something that just cut to my core; not just the music, I mean, the music alone was enough, but just to hear that sort of physical struggle and to be able to compose and produce such an intense amount of ground-breaking music even with his physical ailments; that’s just something that just proves that human ability.

And when I later on discovered Glenn Gould I felt that same connection. Some of my favourite Beethoven recordings are from Glenn, all of which I collect on vinyl.

GGF: Let’s talk about your early experience learning the piano. What were some of the pieces you remember playing?

KvD: Yeah, well I remember falling in love with piano playing for the first time. I remember when it happened and it wasn’t in the beginning, I had very disciplinary folks. You know, we practiced two hours a day every day, by the clock, and I suffered through it, looking out the window, watching kids have normal lives, playing and whatnot. For us, you know everybody in my family played at least two instruments, so it was something that was nurtured and I look back at that and I’m ever so grateful. I think the best gift I’ve ever been given was those first few years of making me learn. But the first time that I ever did finally fall in love with playing the piano was when I figured out how to play Beethoven’s Sonata in G. It’s not one of his more popular, Romantic pieces, you know, it’s twelve pages of a lot of scales and frilliness. But I think it was more to me, I mean, I didn’t play video games, but I assume it’s kind of the same feeling where you’ve been hacking away at a level for a long time and then you finally win. And then you go onto the next level. That’s the high that I felt and it’s still the high that I chase anytime I’m learning anything whether it’s in my drawing or tattooing or painting or piano playing. I think I was about seven years old, and I just fell madly in love with it. And then without a timer I would practice on my own. And I just wanted to become better and better and better.

My family was quite religious growing up, so aside from classical music it was mainly religious music that was played in the household. Of course the religious stuff didn’t really sink in too much with me, but classical music always did.

Of late, I’ve been trying to build my memory repertoire, because unfortunately, because I was trained to read, I tend to use that as a crutch. Even when I’m writing my own songs I still get it transcribed and read it, and I’ve been trying to break away from that crutch and just try and build up my memory repertoire.

We really don’t have any more excuses. I think even in my generation – and I still consider myself young – you brought up this idea that being an artist is an unrealistic goal. When I first got into tattooing, same thing. I didn’t go to high school, I dropped out after junior high, ‘cause I started tattooing when I was fourteen, and I remember my parents being shocked, saying, “you have to get your high school diploma” and I remember, “but I’m living the dream! I’m doing what I want.” At times, I was even supporting my family to a certain degree with the money I was making, which was a lot for a sixteen-year-old, by the time I opened my first shop.

So I think that we do live in a world where it doesn’t matter anymore, with the success of the internet and everything else, we really have no excuses to not pursue the things we want to do. And if it means taking a pay cut, why not, you know? We don’t have to work 9 to 5 in a cubicle if we don’t want to, and if we do, that’s cool, too. I feel that part of being human is the amazing ability of making choices. And I feel that, as much as I do share with the world, through social media or Youtube or whatever, or even when I was on television, it was never about the gain of social status, or how many followers you have on Instagram. To me, it was always if I could sneak the medicine into the dessert somehow, and inspire people to actually create with their hands and with their minds and not settle for less, that would be fulfilling enough for me. I feel I’ve done that, in ways, and with music in particular, I’ve always been a fan of spotlighting, bands or musicians that a lot of people aren’t aware of, because I think that’s important because there’s a lot of stuff that’s shoved down our throat on a regular basis, whether it’s through radio, TV, all that stuff. But there’s so many great, amazing talented people that deserve that attention. And that changed my life tremendously, and I want to share that with people and inspire people to think outside the box.

I think that’s one of the reasons I love Glenn’s approach to life, as well, because he was very much about that. We do live in a really great, exciting time: I never in a million years thought I would have a makeup line, let alone be sitting here, talking with you, you know? Having this great opportunity to do this, it’s like, every day is a dream, because my family just came from, basically, a Third World country, where I was born. We came from nothing but I don’t feel I got lucky, I think some things were luck, but a lot of it was just dedication and making the time and also, well I did get luck with parents, who really nurtured music and art.

I think one of the things that bothers me the most is people who say, “oh, I wish I could draw, I can’t draw.” Well, sure you can, you can also play like Glenn Gould, but you’ve got to practice as much as he did! That’s pretty liberating, when you think, like wow! One-plus-one-equals two: all I have to do is input this many hours and time and I could actually play this, or I could actually do this. When I was practicing for this small performance, I got a piano teacher, and she told me a wild story about some wealthy man who had never played any instrument, bit he was totally moved by a classical piece that he heard at a concert and he got on a mission to learn this one song and he trained with her for months just to learn this one song, and when he learned it, he was good, and that was it. But that’s a great example of the fact that we can do anything we want. Just turn off that damn TV! (laughs)

GGF: We definitely live in a time that’s given us a lot of tools to make it – it’s always been possible – but let’s say that the barriers to entry have come down in a big way –

KvD: For Sure.

GGF: . . . and the ability to connect instantly with a larger community, obviously is something that never existed. That’s something that Glenn obviously thought and wrote a lot about when he gave up playing in public, but . . .

KvD: Right.

GGF: . . . but the sort of pressure to conform to what generally is regarded as a successful life . . .

KvD: Sure.

GGF: You know . . . you go through your schooling, you get your university degree, you get out into a profession,

KvD: . . . and you get married and have kids and a house with a white picket fence, but you know, when we realize that that is super-illusionary, it’s quite liberating. I remember telling my Dad “Hey, Dad, I may not be the richest person,” when I was first tattooing, “but you know, I work at a tattoo shop, and that might not be considered quote-unquote a “real job,” but I whistle on the way to work every day when I walk over there.” You know, I’m not working my ass off for something I don’t believe in. And I think that’s just so crucial. And also that, to me, is so realistic.

GGF: You remind of that line from Porgy and Bess: “Folks with plenty of plenty / Got a lock on their door / ‘Fraid somebody’s gonna rob ‘em while they’re out a-makin’ more / What for?”

KvD: Yeah, that’s true. But you know, I think that is a social dynamic and it happens across the board. It’s not just with wealthy people, I think it happens in every social circle. We tend to be mesmerized by a false sense of what’s important – we tend to get dazzled by these goals . . . like Fool’s Gold, you know? And we treat people differently that way. To me, I find it refreshing when you feel the sincerity in somebody and you have a real conversation versus that feeling of, “what does that person want from me?” I know I’ve been really fortunate to be surrounded by good people. Even as I was becoming more quote-unquote “successful” and bigger and all that stuff, I just always hung out with my friends. I don’t have that many friends, but the ones I do are just solid and amazing – and my family, and I refuse to have yes-men around me. What’s the point of living like that?

GGF: When was the first time you encountered Glenn Gould. What are your memories – do you remember which record it was?

KvD: It’s a funny story because the person who introduced me to Glenn Gould was not somebody you’d think would introduce me to him. At the time I was writing music with Paul B. Cutler. He was the guitarist for a punk-goth band from the eighties called 45 Graves, and one of my favourite people of all time. We really, truly connected on music – not modern music: we loved Gregorian chanting and classical and medieval, you know? We loved the old stuff – not vintage! He knew how much I loved Beethoven, and my favourite Beethoven piece is the Sonata Pathétique. So he said, “have you heard Glenn Gould’s version of it?” and I’m like, “Who’s Glenn Gould?” “You don’t know who Glenn Gould is?” And I remember saying, “I have no idea!” And he was like, “You would love him!” and he introduced Glenn’s personality by describing him. Paul’s such a wizard with words, that I automatically knew I would love this person whoever he was, and so we went on a crazy Youtube binge, watching Glenn’s performances and things like that.

Then I just began obsessively collecting as many records as I could possibly get. One of my favourite things about Glenn, was that every recording was so different. Different variations of the same song but played like – I felt like this was just like, the true spirit of that music. And for me it was so amazing to see somebody that was cool – you know, he was so cool! It’s shocking it’s like a sexy comedian, something you just don’t ever see, you know what I mean?

And the more and more I learned about him as a person, the more it made me love and appreciate his approach to music. I say, man, I have been playing the same pieces from my childhood, you know, these masterpieces by the old Greats, and it never gets old. And isn’t that a trip that you spend your entire life trying to master an instrument, you can end up performing in front of a lot of people and get all kinds of crazy awards, and applause, and you can build a career playing somebody else’s music, whereas if you cover a Beatle’s song, you’re just in a cover band. And I think that’s the tremendous power of that type of music. And I feel that ‘til this day nobody has topped it. Of course, there’s still great music – I mean, the Beatles are great in their own right, too, but I feel nothing’s ever been as ground-breaking as the Beethovens of this world and I don’t foresee anything topping them either, and Glenn really celebrated that. So that was my introduction to Glenn. And it’s also kinda funny that the guy who introduced me is probably the gothiest punk rock guy that ever walked the planet, you know? (laughs)

KvD: Yeah, yeah.

GGF: At the Wilshire Ebel Theatre. KvD: That’s amazing.

GGF: So I think that’s something that you and he share in a way.

KvD: Wow, that’s a great compliment. And I think, it’s natural to feel like an outsider. I mean a lot of people say, “oh, it’s the artist’s way.” But I don’t. I felt like an outsider before I knew what a tattoo was, that’s my own life experience. You can also practice and master anything but I think what makes you different from anyone is your experiences and where you come from, and how that shapes the way you apply it. And that’s also what makes music and art so beautiful and different. I guess my heart responds to the struggle. I can see that in Glenn’s music as well as other artists that I absolutely love, including Beethoven.

GGF: Obviously something else that you and Glenn share is your love of animals which you talked about at the start, and it seems that that special communication or even communion that people have with the animals in their lives, that was very powerful for him and I take it that it’s really super-important in your life, too.

KvD: Oh it’s a huge part of my life. Most of the time, I don’t want to say that I relate to animals better, but I definitely admire animals a lot more (laughs). You know, I just look at my cats. I’m just in awe of their spirit and their amazing ability to just be. My little cat, Piaf, who I named after Edith Piaf, he was the runt of the litter His mother abandoned him and he wasn’t even supposed to survive. He’s this sweet little baby . . . he looks like a bird to me. I look at him and go, wow, I have a fucked up relationship with my Mom and I’ve had to have therapy over it, and really work on issues, then I think, Piaf was abandoned and somehow has no Mom issues! He’s so enlightened that he doesn’t even need forgiveness; he just is. And I want to be like that. I can’t imagine I’d ever get there, but I admire that for sure.

And I think, too, that the more connected we are to our environment, whether it’s animals, plants or whatever, the dirt, that clear connection of how we are nothing without them, it’s so important and it’s something that we’ve lost and becomes more blurry as time goes on. With technology, there’s great things that come from it but also, there’s such huge distractions. And it’s the same with music: there are great technologies that afford us the opportunity to learn and produce music in different and easier ways, but at the same time, I see fewer kids playing instruments. Even on my Instagram, you know, I always try to post videos of me playing the piano, whether it’s a Cure song or a Beethoven song. And it’s to show people, look, I’m just some chick that came from Mexico and didn’t even go to high school but if I can do this, you can do it, so let’s break it down. I want to live in a world where there’s tons of Glenn Goulds, you know? (laughs) That’s what I want.

GGF: So did he. He said technology would allow more people to become artists. This was an interview I think he gave in 1967. He said, today we have stereo sets in our homes, we can can turn up the bass and treble but that’s nowhere near the power we’ll have in the future. Then we’ll be able to not have guys like me (Glenn) telling people how to listen to Beethoven; they’ll be able to get what he called a “box of takes” from someone else’s recording sessions and create the version that they hear in their own heads, with technology that everyone can afford. And of course, we have that now. But we also have a lot of what I call “background noise” and distractions, and that makes it harder in some ways . . .

KvD: It’s so much harder to focus.

GGF: With the overstimulation, to find those moments of stillness and inward tranquility – what Gould called the solitude that’s the precondition for spiritual enlightenment, which he found in the North. And I sense that you find that in the environment that you’ve created very meticulously and beautifully in your home.

KvD: Yeah!

GGF: You call it Kat’s Closet, and you’re surrounded by beautiful handmade things that you’ve assembled.

KvD: Yeah. I’m super particular about conscious living. That’s my ultimate goal, and it hits all aspects of life. Some people from outside look in and say, “oh, she’s neurotic about certain things.” I am strict about what goes in my mind on a conscious level and an unconscious level. You know, I don’t have a television in my house. I do like to watch movies so I can watch them on my laptop. But I try to avoid screens as much as possible. You described it perfectly, it’s a lot of background noise. But I think that also, your surroundings, wherever you spend a lot of time, it’s important to treat every corner of it with intention. Nothing in my house is there by accident. I think when you start taking care of everything that you do, whether it’s how you eat, what you listen to, even.

I’m relaunching some fragrance that I had launched years ago but is back in demand, and I remember that process was so amazing. We had to do all these blind tests where they put all these fragrances in bottles with no labels and I had to tell by nose what fragrances I liked and what I don’t like. And they take all these notes and then they can tell you what kinds of fragrance you actually do like. When I got the results back, you know what?- the perfumes I thought I loved, I actually do love them. Whereas, you know, you look at [names a famous perfume], which is one of that company’s top-selling perfumes, fails the blind test 100% across the board. Nobody likes it when it’s not in the package. But once it’s in the package, they love it. See, when I heard that story, I thought, wow! – I don’t want to be that person that thinks they like something and then realizes that they don’t. Or maybe, sadly enough, never really realize what they truly like and what’s important to them. Like, do you really love the music that you listen to, or is it just that you’ve been hypnotized by what’s forced down your ears? To me that’s really crucial. So I’m a stickler about that, and in the house, I look at every room and say, what’s the intention of that room? I’m not as fancy as people might think, you know, when you look at my house and it’s like, “wow! It’s so beautiful.” And I’m like, “I made that.” I usually try to make stuff. You know, like all the stuff that folks think is fancy, I assembled that. You know like pianos, I collect old, weirdo obscure instruments. I never really had a fancy, nice piano until nine years ago or so when my buddy was low on cash. He had a beautiful baby grand and so I bought it off of him for like a grand. That’s the first time I owned and played a beautiful piano. But it ain’t no Steinway. (laughs)

GGF: Give yourself time – you’ll have a Steinway or a Bosendorfer yet, if you want one.

KvD: I’ve been lucky enough to play those at studios and stuff, but my point is that there’s so many pianos on Craigslist and small pianos, too, that fit in your room that when people say, “oh, I wish I could play,” – dude, get a piano! Couple hundred bucks, man! I know a guy that tunes it for a hundred bucks, and then you’re set!

GGF: I know, plus it’s the best piece of furniture you could ever have

KvD: Beautiful!

GGF: If you have a picture or a piece of sculpture, stick it on a piano!

KvD: Yeah, sure (laughs).

GGF: But it strikes me that you have a real feel for things that are hand-made, that people have put their soul into, and that’s a kind of connection between you and William Morris and the Arts and Crafts movement.

KvD: Yeah, I’m a huge fan of hand-made things. There’s a certain quality that just cannot be replaced with the digital era. Photography is a perfect example of that. These digital cameras are amazing, that can capture something with such clarity, but . . . there’s a certain sentiment, I guess, a feel, a quality, that just can’t and won’t compare with film. That’s because there’s a human imprint on it. Etsy’s one of my favourite places to shop, to discover new Indie designers, because this is the voice of the people. When you look at huge corporations it’s not the voice of the people, it’s the voices of a marketing team interpreting what the people want – or think they want. There’s a certain magic that you lose. I do clearly see that difference and to me, when you hold something in your hand and think of another human being’s part to do with it, it’s an amazing thing. It’s a gem, it’s a treasure.

GGF: There’s a connection between you and the maker that somehow transcends stuff made out of plastic and stamped out of a plastic extrusion machine.

KvD: Yeah, most definitely. And I think, too, even on a subconscious level, people understand it as well, when they see something that’s hand made by an artisan. I always love when you don’t have a big corporation or a corporate approach, the freedom of creativity is still intact. That’s what I love about all these little independent designers is that, oh man! – this is so much more fulfilled than playing it safe. I wrote an album that I never released. When I sat down with my friends to write it, we just closed the doors and just turned everything off, and just played. We didn’t time it, oh, it’s gotta be under three minutes to get radio, and hey, we gotta add a hook . . . we said, let’s just create for the sake of creating, and it’s something that I can be proud of. That’s how it should be. That’s how Beethoven did it, and that’s how a lot of modern-day musicians that I love do it as well. I think there’s something liberating in that.

GGF: Absolutely . . . plus there’s a connection. You know, when you touch a hand-made object I feel like my hand is touching the artist’s hand. It’s not perfect in the sense that it came out of a mold – it’s perfect in the sense that it came out of someone’s heart.

KvD: Sure. My biggest gripe with humanity, I guess, is that we live in a world where a majority of people are just constantly taking. You take and take and take from the planet, from each other. And the more time that passes, the less it seems that people are actually producing and giving anything back. That’s why I think art is one of humanity’s most redeeming qualities, it’s the least we can do. When there’s more people like that, to me, that’s the hero quality. It’s not about ego, I resent these people who say, “I wanna be a legend, I wanna leave a mark.” You know, when you’re dead, you’re fuckin’ dead, it doesn’t matter what you did. And if climate change goes any further – which it will – and our entire environment collapses, none of this will have mattered. But during the time that you were here, what did you bring to the table? Or did you just take? I resent this very selfish way of living, it’s just not something that I admire. In fact, that’s something I love about animals, they do it by default – what they take, they put back. (laughs)

GGF: You’re right. And I think you can describe it as selfish, but maybe it’s more of an illusion. A lot of Eastern religions see things in this way. We’re aware that we’re going to die, we can’t really deal with that, so we create the illusion of an eternity perspective, you know?

KvD: Yeah. It’s the one thing we’ve never experienced yet.

GGF: Well, all it’ll take is a great comet strike and that’ll settle that issue once and for all!

KvD: Yeah, sure.

GGF: We were just talking about the artist and eternity. A lot of the received wisdom, if you like, is that artists create a legacy, you know, vita brevis, ars longa – life is short, art is long or eternal. But your canvas is the human body. As much as the people who receive your tattoos may cherish them, they won’t survive them, except maybe in photographs.

KvD: Yeah.

GGF: Have you thought about that?

KvD: Of course! I remember the first time learning of a client dying. Tattooing isn’t the only medium I work with, so I understand the difference, obviously. There’s ups and downs to it. First of all, I could never take credit for any tattoo I’ve ever done, because it’s always going to be a collaboration . . . always. Never what I want to do - it’s actually what the client wants. And then using your skills and abilities, the goal is to surpass their vision, and create beautiful things that they’ll enjoy. I see it more as an exchange. Once I’m done, it’s gone . . . it’s not even mine anymore. I don’t even see my name on it. If you were to look at it on a trademark level, the person has more ownership over it than I do. So I think it’s kind of cool that there’s no attachment to it. Whereas a painting that has been protected for centuries can live for as long as possible on the walls of a museum and we can admire it forever, or for as long as we’re alive. It’s kind of like my album in a sense: I can write something and give it all I’ve got and be super-proud of it and then I can share it and it can live on, or I can just keep it to myself and it becomes almost more sacred.

I’m not knocking either approach because you can always toy with the idea of releasing it and it’s a different fulfilling feeling when you share, but at the end, like I said, when you die, you die. Like Caravaggio, I was always so tickled by stories of him having such a crazy temper and he didn’t leave a massive amount of work compared to Rembrandt and Michelangelo – he would get a bad critique and burn a painting, you know? And I just thought, how cool is that? He doesn’t give a fuck, you know what I mean? Because then the act of creating is even more at its truest form, like what you think of creating. Not to say that that’s what everyone should do, ‘cause that would be so sad if paintings got burned, but I feel that when people are driven by this idea of legacy, it’s really kind of distracting to the ultimate purpose of art, in a way. But that’s just my personal opinion. I think what’s more interesting and more important, like with Glenn for example, like his legacy – it isn’t even his music? The ability to inspire others, in that capacity is just so much more powerful, I think. Beethoven, exact same thing.

Music saved my life in so many ways, it’s been my best friend, moreso than drawing. I couldn’t live without playing music – if I had to choose. There have been dark times when music has just got me through, and I’m not the only one. Music has no equal . . .it helps you off that ledge. To me, that’s just so much more ground-breaking than any type of award or legacy or whatever you want to call it, you know.

GGF: Yes, because it’s a purely inner state.. You know, Gould in one interview was asked why he never played Scarlatti, since he played so much Bach, who was also a baroque composer, and he said, there’s more “spiritual nourishment” in any one of the preludes and fugues from the Well-Tempered Clavier than there is in all 500 of Scarlatti’s sonatas.

KvD: I love that.

GGF: That phrase, “spiritual nourishment” – that’s what it’s all about.

KvD: – Yeah, Yeah!

GGF: I think there’s a lot to that. One of the things that strikes me – you call yourself “outsider” – I like the 19th century term “free spirit” in the sense that your view of the world isn’t shaped by the collective “wisdom” around you. So, in that collective wisdom, punk, metal, the world of tattooing, and alternative cultures of various kinds – and classical music: these things do not together go. But in your life they really go together harmoniously and in a seamless way.

KvD: But I think they actually do go together. You wouldn’t have Slayer without Bach. When you break down heavy metal, play heavy metal, the musical structure is, these guitar licks are the exact same scales played in the exact same tempo . . . it is classical music, whether or not heavy metal has the lifespan of Beethoven, Bach, Mozart or whatever. And you look at tattooing, regardless of all the stigmas that surround that culture or subculture, you wouldn’t have tattooing without the early engravings of the 1500’s, because that’s where it comes from. I mean, that’s where the machine came from. A tattoo machine was first patented at the turn of the 20th century and it was an engraving machine. And you look at . . . as the tattoo medium actually evolved we’re at a place where the tools themselves haven’t changed. It’s barbaric – they have the same structure as an old antique doorbell that was later patented byThomas Edison. Nothing’s really changed– maybe the pigments and formulations have. But not the technique. And now we’re able to do straight-up master reproductions on skin. I think these arts need each other. So whether or not people make that connection and actually fall in love with these different genres, it’s all really the same thing. I just got lucky being raised with parents that found importance in introducing the roots of all of it to us at an early age. I wonder what, nowadays, parents teach their kids. Again, my family’s from Argentina, we were born in Mexico and we didn’t have the luxury of money. We did have the basics, which are really the fundamentals of what makes me who I am today. I wouldn’t be able to write music the way I write now without all those years of playing classical music. And I also wouldn’t be able to draw at my level without having the inspiration of the Old Masters. And I don’t think that that’s ever going to change. You look at all the real painters today, their influences probably fall in line with the same greats.

GGF: There’s a lot of wisdom in that. So many of these things get “diverted” – by, social associations and pressures. Music is really interesting because the kind of music you listen to, for a lot of people, not only conjures up the music itself, which is just the notes themselves and how they’re performed, but also a whole set of peer group associations, social associations, value associations . . . KvD: Sure. GGF: You know you think of jazz and it’s so cool, in a skeezy dive with a lot of substances getting traded back and forth around the bar and a lot of smoke . . .

KvD: Sure.

GGF: You think about Goth, and certain kinds of people are into it

KvD: Yeah,

GGF: And you think you know what they’re like because they listen to that music. . . . . . and then you think about classical music, and for a lot of people the image is Margaret Dumont in the Marx Brothers’ A Night at the Opera: some dowager in a tiara with a big string of pearls, unbelievably stuffy, and un-cool and obsessed with all sorts of social conventions. But that has absolutely nothing to do with the music. The music is just the notes that Beethoven wrote and how they’re played . . .

KvD: Sure. Well . . . do you know who Ali Helnwein is?

GGF: No, tell me.

KvD: Oh, my gosh. Well, Ali Helnwein is my favourite modern day composer he’s my age, but he’s a composer and plays all instruments and actually he comes from a family of artists and I got introduced to him after being a fan of his father who’s quite the Renaissance man, painter, photographer,– his names is Gottfried Helnwein. When you Google him your mind will be blown. When I first met Ali I was so taken aback because I had heard his music and to me he was like if Tom Waits and Bach had a baby, you know? (laughs!) I highly recommend you look him up . . . I keep telling Ali, you’ve got to start releasing more music. He’ll press vinyl for me ‘cause he knows how much I love his stuff. He’s managed to make classical music cool again. He has a cult following and the people that listen to him . . . they’re just like me. I don’t know if it’s in the melancholy melodies or just the choice of instruments, or just the compositions themselves, but he just has a cool way of composing and I absolutely love it. He’s one of those people who, I’m always, like, “I’m so grateful that you live! That you exist, that you consecrate this.” Anyway I’m just a huge fan of his.

GGF: You appear on a bunch to TV talk shows, nominally you’re in the world of celebrity culture which everyone naturally assumes is a vacuous world for vacuous people,

KvD: Right.

GGF: but it’s pretty obvious that you’re not that – that you’re a person really confronting the quest for meaning and beauty every day in your life and in your work.

KvD: Thank you.

GGF: Which is one reason why I believe Glenn probably would have really liked you. And by the way, just a tip of the hat to that beautiful drawing of Glenn that you did.

KvD: Oh thank you!

GGF: I’d seen the picture you had taken of your self on the Foundation’s Glenn Gould “park bench sculpture” . . .

KvD: Yeah! There’s actually a funny story about that because with my makeup line it takes me everywhere all over the world and . . some people would call me a workaholic. I’m always very disciplined: “OK, we fly in, we have a completely packed day, there’s no down time at the end of it – we either get the flight back or spend one night and fly back early in the morning.” But the last time I was in Toronto, it was the first time ever that I had asked my team, “hey, I know I never asked before, but is it OK if we make one personal stop?” And they were just so curious, like, “where does she want to go?” And I said, “It’s not what you think. . . you guys won’t understand, it’s fine.” And so we go there and this was like the first time I ever was like, “hey, will you take a picture of me with this, real quick?” Yeah, it was on my To-Do list, you know? So that was kind of a funny moment, my team was just laughing about it. But it made sense, because I had named an eyeliner “Gould”. It was this gold eyeliner and they didn’t know, like that all my shade names are music-related stuff, like the inspirations behind the shade names. Then it made sense to them, and I made them watch a clip from that, “on the road” documentary where he’s playing with his dog, and I said, “you guys have to watch this, it isn’t even human!” So I’m trying to explain to them why this guy is . . .this hero! And they were all blown away. So that was just a special little moment . . .I know it probably looked cheesy, but to me it was a big deal.

GGF: Not cheesy at all. You know a lot of people come from all over the world to get their picture taken, sitting beside Glenn Gould on that bench.

KvD: Oh, for sure!

GGF: And I don’t know if you know this, but when you were there on that park bench, which really isn’t a park bench, ‘cause it’s bronze, but you were about a hundred feet away from the piano that Gould was playing in that scene with his dog.

KvD: Really!!!! Ah, that’s so awesome!

GGF: Next time you come to Toronto, we’ll take you to Glenn Gould studio . . .

KvD: I wanted to go in so badly, but they just made that little pit stop for me. And then, funny enough, it was as a conference for Sephora and there’s a brand – it’s a Canadian brand called Bite Beauty – they make lipstick that’s from edible ingredients – a really, really great company. And I was talking to them . . .you know, anytime I ever meet anybody from Toronto, the first thing I say is, “oh, wow, you’re so cool, you live in Gould-town.”And if they don’t know who it is, they’re like, “uh-who?” But this lady, who was one of the heads of Bite Beauty, she said, “Wait! You know who Glenn Gould is?” And I said, “Yeahhhhh, of course! I named an eyeliner after him!” And she tells me she’s somehow related to him. And I said, “you just became the coolest person everrrr!” I got so excited.

GGF: I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but there’s a beautiful - it was just last year, graphic novel about Glenn Gould.

KvD: Or really?

GGF: Spectacular, yes. And it was artist from France named Sandrine Revel, and it’s called “Glenn Gould: Une vie à contretemps.” And it’s now been published in a Korean edition, an Italian edition and the English just came out.

KvD: Oh, gosh, you have to keep me posted on that.

GGF: Your drawing (of Gould) which is extremely beautiful,

Kvd: Aw, thanks!

GGF: It reminds me to ask you, are you a completely self-taught visual artist?

KvD: Yeah, I mean, I definitely didn’t have training – I didn’t go to art school. And when I did go to school, like junior high, I failed my art classes, mainly because I had a hard time . . . I really don’t like people telling me what to think. Especially with art. I think the schools tend to want to teach you all the history and certain genres of art that I could care less about . . . I’ve always been a huge fan of realism. Again, a huge fan of Rembrandt, and I don’t really give a fuck about cubism and whatever. I mean it’s alright if people like that stuff, I just didn’t care to waste my time on it. So I got, maybe a C-minus on all the art projects, but I think I would be lying if I said I was self-taught because I learn from people – everybody I work with. You know, lately I’ve been really struggling to learn how to paint, doing workshops with painters I admire – their style and design and aesthetics. So, in my own way – in my own ghetto way – I was self-taught, but not without absorbing the influence of the artists I have around me, and I’m fortunate to have a lot. And I’m my friends’ biggest fan, so of course, I would probably soak some of that up. I don’t think I’m sure that, if taken under a microscopic look, my drawing’s probably not at a level, you know, I don’t draw flawlessly, but I just draw the way I feel. It’s a bit rough around the edges, but I like it that way.

GGF: Well, that’s your own special style. It shouldn’t be anything other than what it is. What are your preferred media?

KvD: I absolutely love graphite . . . that’s something I’ve always, it just feels intuitive to me. But I’m not anti-charcoal or anything like that. I’ll draw with a mechanical pencil I find on the floor. You know, give me a pencil and paper and I’ll figure it out. (laughs)

GGF: And that gets you to Rembrandt and chiaroscuro and the illusion of depth in a flat medium. But you work in a three-dimensional medium, because if you’re tattooing somebody’s arm . . .

KvD: Yeah, it’s not a flat piece of paper.

GGF: Does that prove to be a bit of a drafting challenge for you?

KvD: Yeah, sure. It’s always the case, and especially when you’re looking at a portrait, I’m always looking for the flattest surface on a body to avoid distortion. But there are little tricks you can use to compensate for that, and whatnot.

GGF: Perspective must be a bit of a special challenge in the sense that if, let’s say, someone flexes their bicep and it changes shape, your vanishing point goes out of kilter.

KvD: Yeah, (laughs), it’s probably a wise move not to place an eyeball at the centre of someone’s triceps – you know, that’s gonna cause distortion. But I think when you’re in a neutral position, as long as it looks nice and even, you’re good. Sure – where there’s a will there’s a way. (giggles)

GGF: I’ve been meaning to ask you. You’ve got a beautiful Beethoven portrait on your right thigh. Would you ever consider having a Glenn on you?

KvD: Yeah! I’ve actually considered it. Like Glenn was just, ah, shockingly beautiful. (laughs) Yeah, I would definitely love to explore that. More than anything, I love pictures of hands, and he obviously had so many great photographs of his hands. And I did toy with the idea of getting a portrait of his hands, or something like that.

GGF: You know, classical music has its challenges, especially the forms that are more expensive to maintain, like the symphony orchestras. Have you ever thought of conducting an orchestra, or would you ever be interested in curating and programming an orchestral concert?

KvD: I would never flatter myself in conducting, just because I wouldn’t be that presumptuous, but I mentioned my friend Ali Helnwein, and hearing a piece come to life, and performing it live, and I remember when he was working on a violin concerto that I was able to commission, and that made me happy – to be able to fund something and not just to get classical music fans but the youth – young people who might not necessarily know anything about music, to come down and be a witness to that. I feel like I could be a good patron in that sense.

GGF: You can be a great advocate . . .

KvD: I would love that. Next time I come out to Toronto, I’ll ring you up and you can show me around.

GGF: You are absolutely guaranteed a guided tour

KvD: Awesome, man, thank you so much.

GGF: You’ve been so generous with your time . . .

KvD: No, you have.

GGF: Absolutely. OK, I don’t want to make you late, but I had so many other questions I wanted to ask you.

KvD: I could talk to you forever!

GGF: If you’re game for a Chapter 2, happy to do that anytime.

KvD: Awesome!

#kat von d #glenn gould #interview #music #passion #tattooing #life

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badgalvi · 8 years ago

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Challenge No. 1 | The First Time

It was another late night. It was a good thing she worked for family, Vi thought, and that she owns one-third of the company, or else her bad habits would catch up to her and get her fired. She could never see herself working for other people in that sense. She was too used to setting her own hours and having people work for her and alongside her. It was something that Kellan taught her when her mom started selling her liquid lipsticks, mainly on Etsy. Kellan was good at business and how to make deals. Most importantly, he was good at living—how to live, exactly. How to dress, what parting gifts to buy when hosting a business party, where to take your clients after closing a good deal. He knew how to sway people in his direction and how to be charming. It was Kellan who taught Vi how to be smooth around people when she used to be so awkward and unassuming. Kellan taught her how to be a forceful presence in a room full of white men and women who didn’t believe in her.

Vi huffed out air she didn’t know she was holding in. She didn’t want to be thinking of him this late in the night. Her car drove itself to Ardis’s apartment, it seemed like. She would make this trip every few nights when he wasn’t making the exact same trip to hers. It was automatic, a reflex.

She entered the unlocked door, locked it herself, and went straight to his room like she owned it. There were lit candles this time around, and she couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“What—you don’t like them?” Ardis asked. His dark brown eyes reflected the twinkling of the flames placed around the tables and shelves.

“No, not that,” she replied. “I’m trippin’ on the nostalgia right now.”

Ardis looked around with a wondering stare, then softened his eyes and smiled. “I remember,” he said, chuckling. His hands covered his face in embarrassment, “God, I remember,” he groaned.

Vi laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest as he put his arms around her body, squeezing.

After nights of begging, weekends of annoyance, recess periods of nonstop pleading, Ardis agreed. He invited Vi to his house when his parents were out on a date, and it was just him and his kid brother, DeShon, in charge of their two-story home. DeShon was fast asleep and Vi walked over to his house, just around the corner of her own, and silently followed Ardis into his room.

Ardis had never been anyone’s first, as his first girlfriend already had a boyfriend before him. He didn’t know whether to make it special for Vi or not, but he figured it couldn’t hurt. Vi was his friend and was asking for a favor, and he wanted her to feel comfortable. Before she came over, he lit the candles he could find around his house and his parents’ bedroom.

Vi was awed. She didn’t expect anything special—just a good 10-15 minutes of unusual physical contact, and she would be freed from the dread of never getting to experience something everyone had already gone through. She didn’t have too many friends growing up, and she didn’t have the money to afford anything. She used her mom’s old clothes when she grew tall enough to fit them, then used her aunty’s old shoes when her mom’s shoes were getting too small. Everything was hand-me-down or handmade, and no one thought it was cool to hang out with that raggedy skinny doll in school. Ardis was one of the few people who didn’t care what she looked like and was friends with her anyway.

Ardis stood awkwardly by the bedside, scratching his elbow and looking at the floor. “Okay, you gotta come closer.”

Vi nodded, feeling his contagious awkwardness and suddenly becoming very self-conscious. She walked towards him. She felt his body heat emanate from his skin. She looked up and met his eyes immediately—Ardis was not that much taller than her, since her growth spurt came around the time she got her first period.

“Now what?” she asked, trying to prepare for what it was the adults do in the movie scenes she wasn’t supposed to look at.

Ardis lifted his hand and gently cupped her chin. It startled Vi, but she didn’t move away. He pulled her head towards him and kissed her lips. He opened his mouth, so Vi followed. He used his tongue, so Vi used hers. Ardis finally started getting really into it, and Vi followed every step and let him lead her body.

“Unbutton my pants,” he said under his breath. Vi quickly reached for them, but then stepped back, startled after she felt the bulge under his boxers. Ardis smiled. “You okay?” Vi nodded, coming closer again. Ardis took her left hand and guided it towards his dick. Vi didn’t know what to expect, but it felt bigger than she thought it was supposed to be, using all her skinny fingers to cover the whole thing. He let her hands rub up and down, cupping his dick and telling her it’s okay to squeeze a little bit harder. “You wanna suck it?” Vi bit her lips, still unsure. “You don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” he told her.

“I don’t know,” she replied, looking down at the floor.

Ardis smiled. “That’s cool.” He took her to the bed and sat down next to her. They continued kissing, which Vi found she was really into. It was like a dream, connecting lips and exploring the inside of each other’s mouth with their tongues. She could do this forever.

“Can I touch your boobs?” Ardis asked. Vi nodded, and immediately Ardis cupped her tiny tits, flicking them until they were hard. She took off her bra and lifted her tank top above her head. Ardis began kissing her chin, then her neck, using his tongue to make a trail to her nipples. When his lips first touched it, she felt the pleasurable sensations inside her pants, too. She let out a sigh and he led her back onto the bed.

His lips eventually went down to her stomach. He slowly unbuttoned her shorts while still kissing her skin, then slid off her clothes. He lifted his head to look at her, then down at her thighs. He kissed every part of her body that made her tickle until he came to her pussy. He kissed her panties right in the middle and Vi giggled girlishly. “Do you like that?” he asked. She was smiling at him, nodding for him to continue whatever it was he was doing to her.

Her panties came off in one swift movement, and Ardis took a few seconds to admire her. It triggered her insecurities suddenly, and her heartbeat was off its rhythm. “What?” she asked, a worried look on her face.

Ardis shook his head, still smiling. “Nah, it’s nothing. It’s cute,” he admitted, licking his lips and suddenly his head bowed down. When his wet lips touched hers, she opened her mouth and closed her eyes, her head relaxing on his pillow. He kissed her clit and licked and flickered. Her breathing excelled as he continued. He paused for a moment just to put his two fingers in her mouth. She licked them, looking into his eyes and pretending it was his dick. She would do this for real next time, she thought at that moment.

When his fingers were sticky with saliva, he traced it down her pussy lips and gently thrusted it inside her. The sensation wasn’t as fun as when his mouth and tongue was there, but it wasn’t completely uncomfortable. Ardis’s fingers went in and out in a steady motion and his tongue was flickering her clit at the same time. Vi decided this was something she wanted to do on the regular. She needed this.

Ardis’s fingers started pushing deeper inside of her and Vi’s pussy was wetter with each thrust. Finally, Ardis pulled his finger and took off his tank top. He pulled down his pants and underwear and exposed his bareness in front of her. The shadows from the candle danced on his dick as Vi saw it through half-open eyes.

Ardis took his dick in his hands and rubbed it against her pussy. There was nothing Vi wanted more than for him to stick it inside, to feel how he feels when he fills her up. “I want it,” she said in a whisper. Their eyes met and Ardis pulled in closer, skin against skin. Gradually, his dick went inside her, only a little bit at first. He started thrusting and Vi began to pant. She was so wet, he felt like he could slide deeper and deeper inside with each thrust. He kissed her neck and she straddled him with her legs, holding his body tightly around her.

Her cries of pleasure began echoing in the room. She dug her nails into the bed, into the pillow, into his skin. The steady mix of pain and ecstasy was so fulfilling—she thought she would implode from the inside out and leave a mess all over his room.

Ardis’s pace quickened and suddenly—right when Vi thought she couldn’t handle anymore—he thrust one last time and quickly got up, his dick out and throbbing in front of her, cum squirting onto her belly and chest. She huffed and puffed like she was deprived of oxygen for the entire scene.

Vi looked around, trying to ingrain every detail of the moment to her memories. She heard from other girls that their first time wasn’t as cool or good or comfortable as people make it seem like. Vi was glad her first experience wasn’t like that. Most of all, she was glad it was over with—she would never have to be embarrassed if any of her friends asked her if she ever kissed anyone or had sex before. She could proudly say that she did all of that, even if it was just this one time, even if no one would ever touch her again, she had finally gone through it.

Ardis kissed Vi on the lips. “Ah, so, you wanna recreate your first time, then? Since we got the mood goin’ an’ all.”

Vi’s responding smile was sly and playful. She took something out of her purse and showed it to him. “Yeah, we can recreate it. But let’s make it a little more interesting, huh?” In her hands were a single bandana and golden handcuffs with the fur.

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simplemlmsponsoring · 6 years ago

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New Post has been published on http://simplemlmsponsoring.com/attraction-marketing-formula/pinterest-marketing/how-to-schedule-your-pinterest-posts-for-etsy-sellers/

How To Schedule Your Pinterest Posts For Etsy Sellers

Once you have your pin ready for Etsy product listing and your description written, the next thing you want to do is post your pin to Pinterest! That is so much easier to do effectively with marketing strategy if you use a scheduler like Tailwind! Here are my best tips and tricks for scheduling your Etsy product pins!

First, Some Hard Core Pinterest Marketing Strategy

Unless you have been under a rock for the last few years, you know that Pinterest is a great way to promote your products. It is a dreaming, planning and shopping website, with the added benefit that your pins stay “live” forever!

That said, Pinterest also doesn’t want old dusty pins hanging around year after year, they like when we upload “fresh” pins so we want to keep uploading different pictures of our products!

But taking time out from our busy Etsy lives to stop, find a pin and then promote it every day is not an effective use of time… so scheduling saves the day!

Tailwind

Now, let’s get honest, there are about a million schedulers out there that you could use and I just don’t have time to go through them all so I am focusing on the one that I use for Pinterest, Tailwind.

It is not free, but not so super expensive that it kills you AND it lets you go from teeny-tiny when you start to huge, full blown like I use now!

Pinning First To The Most Relevant Board

Maybe one of the most impactful things I have learned recently is that Pinterest kind of “hooks” your pin to the first board it ever gets pinned on. So if you are selling a necklace, you should pin first to a necklace board, or if you are selling a planner, you should pin it first to your planner board… NOT to your general shop board which is what I always did!

For some us rebel entrepreneurs our shop boards might not be most cohesive (one of a kinds or change products much?) so pinning right to the relevant board is super important.

Make Sure Your Pins Are Tall

I KNOW, Etsy likes short fat pictures that work in the search, but this is Pinterest we are talking about today so make sure you take at least one great vertical picture when you are doing product photography.

The great thing is you don’t have to choose! I use the Thumbnail clipper in Etsy to take my cool, tall Pinterest worthy pictures and make them look great in Etsy search. Just make sure you frame your images so that least one has a skinny part in the middle you can clip!

Scheduling Your Pinterest Pins

Alrighty then, let’s get to scheduling your pins!

Step #1…. Upload Your First Pin To The MOST Relevant Board

For this example we are going to be focusing on my wicked cool battle axe paperweight. Now I have two contenders for boards this might be perfect for, my “Vintage Finds” board on Pinterest which a mish-mash of all my different vintage products or my “Desk Vintage Decor” which is full of desk specific items.

Because Pinterest likes things to be matchy-matchy, I am going to upload it to the desk board using the Pin Button in my browser. If you don’t have this, here are the directions for adding it!

And adding it to the right board…

Now on last super quick thing you want to do as soon as you pin it… click the “See It Now” button so you don’t have to search around your whole account to find that pin!

>> Pro Tip: This may be the best tip of this whole post! What I do when I am scheduling pins is “batch” them up. So I will pin a couple of images from each listing, push the “See It Now” button and leave them riding at the top of the browser and do all the scheduling in batches.

I KNOW you might have thought of that before, but honestly I used to do one listings all the way around and then another one and it was painful. Just do all the pinning at once and then the scheduling at once is the way to go!

Scheduling Etsy Pinterest Pins With Tailwind

Once you join Tailwind and get the browser button, you will be doing the rest of the scheduling through the Tailwind site!

At this point you can choose to schedule to pin this picture to one board at a time or multiple boards all at once (I recommend multiple boards!)

Scheduling Multiple Boards At Once

Let’s take a wee minute and talk about Pinterest and social media in general. I think most of us know by now that there are SO MANY posts, pictures, comments and “stuff” out there now that to get noticed you may have to post your item more than once!

So you will probably want to have a fair number of boards you can pin to. For example, I have 5 total boards my paperweight would be appropriate for. Luckily Tailwind has a feature where you can “group” your boards and load them up all at once! (including group boards you belong to… whoo whoo!)

And then you can set a posting “interval” so they don’t all go out at once! For example, I am setting an interval of 7 days so this pin will go out ever week for a month! AND it starts a week from today so they won’t all be bunched up on each other.

Check out Tailwind for Free!

Tailwind Tribes

Up until now we have been talking about mostly our own boards and then whatever group boards we belong to. Now let’s talk about Tailwind Tribes. This is a truly magical way to get your Etsy items shared beyond your own abilities!

Functionally what it is a “pin trading” group where you post pins and other people post pins in the same kind of category. But wait, it is easier to show you than to just keep prattling on…

So here are the current tribes available when you search for “Etsy”. There are handmade and creative, Etsy and small business. Oh and then don’t forget you can niche down further… say you sell dog collars, you could find a dog group that allows product pins, or if you sell vintage decor you could find a home interiors group!

Here are my results for just one tribe…

What that means is … at the top is the group results and the bottom are my personal pins. So there have been 240 pins of mine scheduled, 142 new pins on Pinterest that are my posts and 1.8 Million views that are possible with those pins.

Let’s just say that none of my boards gets that kind of reach so using the Tribes really can grow my Pinterest exposure!

Check out Tailwind Tribes for free!

Tailwind Smart Loop

Okay, last but not least is Smart Loop. This is an automatic posting service where you can load up a library of product posts and let them go out over time, reposting periodically to the boards you designate.

STOP…. I truly feel that Smart Loop is only for our Handmade, Digital Products and Supplies sisters! This would not work well for OOAK or vintage peeps as we don’t have enough “static” products to know that reposting them again in 6 months would even make sense.

Here is my very best “looped” pin… my real estate planner from my digital Etsy shop, Paperly People…

It is randomly posting to boards that I have designated and just sitting there churning out repins all on it’s own!

I promise you that my Etsy product pins are getting so much more exposure since it is automatic than if I had to remember to go in there myself!

Now I get it, there are some gals who have spreadsheets with each product, the pin, which boards it goes to, when they pinned it last and when it should be repinned… but I am not that gal! When it wasn’t automatic I really didn’t pin it at all after the first time I published it!

As you can see from these “Pinterest” source stats from my Etsy store, incoming views are WAY up now that I am using the looping feature!!

Check out Tailwind Smart Loop for free!

The post How To Schedule Your Pinterest Posts For Etsy Sellers appeared first on Marketing Artfully.