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bitch-for-bo · 3 years

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Jealousy (Miya Atsumu x chubby reader)

POST TIME SKIP

Bokuto and his childhood best friend have gotten awfully close lately, a little too close for Atsumu's liking. He's mad about how much attention you give to Bokuto after a game, when you confront him about his attitude, things quickly get out of control.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Atsumu’d had enough. He’d been watching you shamelessly ogle over and compliment Bokuto for the last five minutes, and you’d failed to notice him or congratulate him once. All he’d gotten so far was a quick kiss along with a ‘good game’ before you’d ran over to Bokuto to hype the hitter up.

He didn’t care that you were just having a light good-natured conversation with your childhood friend. All he could focus on was the way that your bodies were unconsciously tilted towards each other or how Bokuto’s hands were lingering a little too much as he wrapped them around you for a hug.

It wasn’t just today either. All it had been with you for the last week at least, was how awesome and strong Bokuto was. Not to mention how built he was. God, you went to the gym with Bokuto once, and now you wouldn’t stop rambling about how surprisingly ripped the spiker was beneath his jersey.

All it was was,

“Oh my god, did you know that Bokuto can hip thrust almost 600 pounds! God! He could crush me with those thighs!”

“We were goofing off and Bokuto actually picked me up and squatted me!”

All of these things were said in front of the whole MSMBY team, causing Bokuto to puff up with pride, Hinata to marvel at his awesomeness, Sakusa not to care, and Atsumu to go off and seeth to himself.

Of course, you didn’t know the effect that you had on Atsumu. You couldn’t tell that every time you playfully flirted with Bokuto, telling him how handsome and strong he was, that Atsumu was filled with the urge to rip you away and fuck you right in front of the whole team, letting them know just who you belonged to.

You didn’t know this because, while Atsumu was incredible at communicating with his teammates, he was shit at expressing his feelings when it came to you. This led to him bottling up all of his feelings until they became too much for him. At which time he would go and rant to a very jaded and very annoyed Kiyoomi.

“Yeah, but did you see that one hit in the second set Y/N! Wasn’t it awesome!” Bokuto asked excitedly, bouncing back and forth on the pads of his feet as the two of you had a very animated conversation about the game he just played.

“Of course I did Bo! It was so cool!” You exclaimed back, matching his exuberant energy with your own.

You were incredibly proud of your childhood best friend, and you were super thankful that he just happened to be on the same team as your boyfriend. It made it to where you were always able to cheer both of them on without them being on opposite sides of the court. In your eyes, it was a win-win.

“Yeah well, maybe it was ‘cause someone gave you an awesome set,” Atsumu grumbled just loud enough for you and Bokuto to hear as he stood a couple of feet away from you with his arms crossed and a childish scowl on his face.

“Oh, don’t be like that Tsumu. Bo’s spike was fantastic!” You lightly scolded the blonde to which he just made a ‘hmph’ sound before turning and sulking away.

You had no clue why Tsumu got like this when you congratulated Bokuto. It wasn’t like you didn’t congratulate him as well. You always made sure that the blonde was the first and the last to receive cheers from you. So you had no idea why he was being so fussy lately.

As Atsumu walked away Bokuto could practically see the waves of anger radiating off of his back, and he guiltily ignored them. He knew why Atsumu acted like that when Y/N congratulated his spikes. He knew why Atsumu hated the idea of his girlfriend going to the gym and hanging out with one of his teammates.

He knew that the way that he interacted with Y/N made Atsumu angry, but he ashamedly did it regardless.

He couldn’t help it. The two of you had been so close as children, you grew up together, he knew everything about you. He knew your favorite color, all of your fears, your dreams, and when the two of you had decided to attend different high schools and got out of touch it had really hurt him.

That was why he was so happy when he joined the Jackals, that you just happened to be the girlfriend of one of his new teammates. Over the last couple of months, the two of you had re-ignited your old friendship and things were just like old times.

Well, they were just like old times until Bokuto realized that you weren’t the kid he used to know. Your personality was fundamentally the same, but drastically different at the same time.

He remembered back in primary school just how shy and insecure of a girl you were. He remembered defending you against the people who would bully you for your size, and comforting you when you cried about the mean things they would say.

Bokuto had always despised those people that had made you hate yourself. So every chance he got he would try to cheer you up and let you know just how great you really were.

Over the years, that insecure part of you really changed. It changed so much that at first Bokuto wasn’t sure if it was really you. No longer did you walk with your gaze on the floor, covering your body with too-baggy clothing. No longer did you apologize unnecessarily or hold your tongue in conversations.

The moment that he’d seen you with Atsumu, he was completely taken back. You had been wearing a corset top and jeans that perfectly hugged your plush frame as well as a pair of black heels.

You had always been afraid of showing your body like that in the past. You didn’t like the way that your stomach wasn’t flat or the way that your thighs rubbed together and shook when you walked. He’d also never seen you in a pair of heels before, you were always afraid of being taller than the guys seeing as you were already pretty tall without heels on.

Much to Bokuto’s surprise and delight, you finally seemed comfortable in your body, confident even. And for good reason too because, in Bokuto’s opinion, your body had developed into one of the best bodies he’d ever seen. He would discreetly stare at you when you were with the team, his eyes fixating on the way that you jiggled and bounced every time you moved. He couldn’t help but develop a bit of jealousy towards Atsumu. After all, you were the blonde’s and not his, and sometimes, he would let his mind stray and wonder if he’d be in Atsumu’s place if the two of you had never lost touch.

“Anyways,” you said, pulling Bokuto out of his small daydream, “Are you guys gonna go out and celebrate tonight?”

You made sure to ask loud enough to where all of the Jackal’s heard. The players you didn’t speak to much just ignored you, including the captain who muttered something about being way too beat to go clubbing.

Hinata said he was going to go and hang out with Kageyama.

Sakusa said he wanted to go shower and rest.

And Atsumu was still fuming to himself, refusing to acknowledge your question.

“Hmm, I guess not,” Bokuto said, his hair slightly deflating. He was thinking about how it would be fun to go out when his body suddenly reminded him of the hard game that he just played. “To tell the truth Y/N, I’m pretty exhausted. I think I’ll follow Kiyoomi’s lead and just rest up.”

You frowned, yet nodded in understanding. They just played a really strenuous match so you couldn’t blame any of them for not feeling up to going out.

“I get it, make sure you all recover well!” you offered, your bright signature smile coming across your face and managing to increase the atmosphere’s energy a bit.

Bokuto waved as he and Hinata left the gym to head back to the hotel they were staying at for the night, each of them recapping their best plays of the night like feuding children.

You waved back before turning to your boyfriend, your frown returning when you saw that he was still sulking.

Atsumu didn’t even acknowledge you as he walked right past you and stomped out of the gym. Your frown only deepened at your boyfriend’s behavior, was he really opposed to you congratulating his teammates?

“Hey!” you called after Atsumu, trying to jog to catch up to him. “Hey!” you restated, you could tell that he was taking a little longer strides than usual, knowing that your chubby legs wouldn’t be able to keep up unless you shifted from a walk to a jog.

After he still didn’t reply, you decided to hold your tongue until you got to his hotel room, you didn’t want everyone in the building hearing your relationship squabbles and you definitely didn’t want to attract the attention of any paparazzi.

The walk to the hotel was dead silent. Atsumu was making no attempt to talk to you, and you decided that if he didn’t want to talk to you, you didn’t want to talk to him. And even if you did want to talk to him, you’d have to jog as you did it seeing as the asshole was still walking just fast enough to stay two or three strides ahead of you.

Once you made it to the hotel and after a very awkward elevator ride, the two of you arrived at the door to his room. He turned to look at you.

“You’re not planning on staying are you?” He asked coldly, looking down his nose at you as your mouth popped open in surprise.

While Atsumu was normally a great boyfriend, he really knew exactly what to say to hurt you. After a couple of months of dating, you had opened up to him about your past traumas and admitted to him that you used to only feel like a nuisance to people. He’d assured you that you were never a nuisance to him, that he could never grow tired of you. And him saying that made you feel a little bit better about that particular insecurity. So when he said that, your heart dropped.

“Oh,” you said quietly.

As soon as your gaze dropped to the floor, Atsumu knew that he’d really fucked up and guilt automatically began eating at his stomach. He felt incredibly bad and yet his mouth wouldn’t open to apologize.

“ok,” you continued, you could feel yourself wanting to cry but stopped yourself in fear of your tears only fueling Atsumu’s annoyance with you.

No one liked a clingy crybaby, you told yourself as you bit your lip to hold back the emotions.

“I guess I’ll just go back home, maybe I’ll see if Bo wants to go get some food,” you mumbled, turning to leave the setter.

“Of fucking course…” you heard Atsumu muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You turned back around, slightly angry at Atsumu’s attitude. You had tried to be sensible and walk away, giving him space, but if the asshole wanted to talk under his breath at you, you had every right to get angry. If he thought something was wrong he needed to man up and let it out.

“What’d you say?” You asked, your hands starting to fist at your sides.

“You heard me.” Atsumu sneered back, crossing his arms across his chest but not retreating into his hotel room. If anything the actions only caused your frustration to grow. Why the fuck was he being like this? He’s acting like a literal child.

You took a few quick steps towards the blonde, jabbing your finger into his chest as you glared up at him.

“Listen,” you hissed, “I have no fucking clue why you’re acting like this, but it’s not cute and it’s hurting my feelings. I’m not a mind-reader, if you have something bothering you, you have to tell me.”

“What?” Atsumu growled. He couldn’t believe that you really didn’t know what was bothering him. There was no way someone could be that fucking naive.

“You heard me.” you snipped back, your arms coming up to cross your body in a stance mirroring his.

Before you could tell what was happening, Atusmu had grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you inside of his room, the door slamming behind the two of you as he automatically trapped your body against it.

While you were still stunned by the extreme progression of events, Atsumu had unlooped your belt and fastened it around your wrists, securing them firmly behind your back.

“Hey! What the fuck Atsumu!” You seethed, your arms straining against the leather as the position forced your chest out against Atsumu’s.

“You really wanna know what’s bothering me?” he asked, the anger visible on his face.

“Yes!” You exclaimed in frustration, “that’s what I’ve been wanting to know for the last 15 goddamn minutes!”

As soon as you’d finished your sentence, Atsumu’s face got eerily calm. Instead of the scowl that’d been on his face a second ago, there was his usual smirk. A chill ran down your spine.

His hands left their place on your confined wrists to tightly grip your hips, almost hard enough to leave bruises.

“What a dirty mouth for such a pretty little thing.” He drawled, leaning closer to you until you could almost taste the sweat that had dried onto his temples.

“What ar-”

“ Shhh …” he cut you off, one hand coming up to press a finger against your mouth before going back down and curling lightly around your throat. “You wanna know what’s bothering me, Princess?”

His lips were against your jaw, his teeth scraping against the skin as he mumbled.

“Maybe…..” he continued, the hand that was on your hip tracing across your stomach until it came to the button of your jeans. He popped them open, eliciting another protest from you which he silenced with a slightly harder squeeze to your throat.

Your body was betraying you with every touch he left against your skin. You really didn’t want to give him the reactions that he so clearly craved, but you just couldn’t help the way your body responded to him.

“Maybe it’s because you dress like such a little slut at my games…. Are you trying to distract me, Princess?” He asked, his teeth disconnecting from your jaw as he pulled your jeans down and off of your body before reconnecting even rougher than before.

All you’d been wearing to the match was a pair of high waisted denims along with a simple black cropped tank top, you’d have worn one of Atsumu’s jerseys but they were all dirty at the moment. It was a simple outfit, it wasn’t anything to get pissed over, definitely not this pissed.

“No” you mumbled, still not wanting to let Atsumu know that his touch was affecting you as much as it was.

“Or were you trying to distract other guys, Princess? Were ya trying to show off yer pretty body to them like a little whore?”

Atsumu had worked your jeans completely off and was hooking his fingers around the band of your panties, obviously planning to tear them off of you as well.

Atsumu had never called you such mean things before and part of you hated the idea of him trying to tear your confidence down with the terms, but at the same time, there was no denying the terrible effect it was having on your body. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter at the condescending words of your boyfriend and your resolve was quickly dissipating into the want to obey and submit to him with every fiber of your being.

“N-No!” you stuttered as you squealed at the feeling of Atusumu practically ripping your panties off of your body.

“ Liar.” he spat before taking your soaked panties and stuffing them into your mouth, effectively shutting you up as you moaned around the cloth at the lewd actions.

“You wanted all those guys to stare at yer ass didn’t you?” he asked, punctuating the question with a sharp slap to your ass, making you cry out and fall against his chest as he pulled you into him, one hand gripping your throat still as the other began to roam your plush silhouette.

“Or did you want them looking at your pretty tits?” he continued, taking your tank top between his fingers and pulling it down to expose your heaving chest, discovering that you’d been wearing one of those tops with a built-in bra.

“ A-aa ” you tried to moan out his name around the gag as his graceful setter fingers began to play with your already hard nipples.

“No bra? You really are my little slut aren’t ya? ” One of his hands continued to play with your breasts as the other slowly dragged down your waist, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

You keened against his body as his middle finger roughly slipped across your slit, drawing delicious circles around your clit. The fight in you was almost completely gone. You hadn’t forgiven your asshole boyfriend, it just felt so good to have him pressed up against you like this, touching you, controlling you.

“ Shit... “ he grunted, his finger sliding easily against you due to how incredibly wet you were for him.

His cock was straining against his shorts, but he knew that he didn’t want to give you his cock just yet, he needed to punish you first for how you’d been acting. Acting so naughty, such a little tease. You deserved to be taught a lesson.

“Does watching me play make you horny Princess, do you stand there and imagine getting to sit on my cock?” He asked, his fingers playing with your pussy as he started to walk you into the bathroom, his fingers never leaving your cunt.

“Mhmm.” You moaned in compliance.

Your body was hot with the need for his cock inside of you as the memory of the game played in your head. The way that he moved on the court never failed to soak your panties as you stood and cheered him on in the audience. Every single game you would watch his serves, just thinking about how he was just as powerful off the court as he was on. You couldn’t help but get wet just thinking about the possibility of fucking him after the game.

You thought that, with how Atsumu was acting, you weren’t going to get any victory dick today, turns out that you were obviously wrong. Not only were you getting dick, you were getting it like you’d never gotten it before. You could still feel the anger seeping out of Atsumu as his cruel fingers continued to torture you.

“Well, only good girls get their pussies stuffed.” he breathed against your neck, a pitiful whine leaving your lips as he slowly pushed a finger into your pussy.

“ Are you gonna be a good girl for me? ” He asked, mentally groaning at the way your soft walls clenched around the thick digit.

With the way that your tight wet cunt fluttered around his fingers, he almost forgot why he was mad. It was incredible the way that you could make him forget things like that, the way that you had him wrapped around your cute stubby fingers.

“Mhm!” you nodded frantically. Your hands were still bound and your mouth still gagged, so all you could do to convey your desperate message was moan and rub yourself against Atsumu like a bitch in heat, your hips pathetically trying to fuck yourself down onto his finger.

“What’s that?” he snickered, a second finger pressing into your cunt as the first found your g-spot, stroking up into the spongy texture without mercy.

You cried out, you could feel yourself starting to lose it. Usually, you could last much longer than this, but something about the way that Atsumu was manhandling you this time, made it so much harder to keep cool.

It felt like the setter had taken over all of your senses as he continued to finger fuck you into the wall of the bathroom. One hand was fucking your pussy and massaging your clit while the other was kneading your tits, pinching your nipples. At the same time, his mouth was latched onto your neck, sucking deep bruises into the skin, branding you for his whole team to see.

“That’s right Princess..” he groaned, he could feel you clenching harder around his fingers and he knew that you were getting close. “Imma mark you up so good everyone’s gonna know who you belong to.”

You knew that Atsumu was the jealous, possessive type, but nothing could’ve prepared you for just how extreme the problem was. You still didn’t know what sparked this little tantrum and you had the feeling that you wouldn't be able to pull the reason out of the setter until you let him have his way. Hopefully, you’d be able to walk after.

You could feel your end rising, the familiar feeling of a rubber band in your lower belly getting ready to snap. You threw your head back against the wall, trying to keep yourself from crying with the delicious pressure building up inside of you.

Atsumu must’ve known you were close, he used his free hand to help you rotate your arms over your head, twisting the belt around to allow the movement but not to allow you freedom.

“Hold your cunt open for me baby,” he demanded, guiding your hand down to your pussy and directing your arms to press against your stomach and your fingers to hold yourself open to where he could see his fingers fucking into you.

You were a mess, moaning and drooling around the gag as Atsumu’s gaze focused on the way that you continued to suck him back in with every pump of his wrist. He spat on his other hand before giving your clit a light spank, making you jerk against his hold, all of the air completely leaving your lungs as you clenched around his fingers.

“ Yeah …” he growled, his palm beginning to rub against your clit, the quick wet movements making you start crying with pleasure.

“W-nmnmwn” you begged around the gag, trying to warm Atsumu that you were about to cum. He liked it when you asked permission, so you always did and now your body was conditioned to where you almost couldn’t cum without him saying you could.

“What was that Princess?” he asked smugly, he knew exactly what you were trying to say. He knew that while you were acting like a little whore towards Bokuto lately, he was the one that owned your body, he knew that his baby wouldn’t disobey him and cum without permission.

You continued to beg around the gag, your hips and legs burning with the exertion of searching for your high against his hand. You were getting desperate. You looked up at your boyfriend.

Atsumu almost came at the sight of you looking up at him.

You looked so pretty for him, drool on your chin, tears in your eyes, he swore that before he was done with you, those tears would be running down your face, that he would make you cry and beg for his cock, make you admit that only he could fuck you this good. Not Bokuto, not anyone, just him.

“Do you wanna cum for me, Princess?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Okay then… cum for me Princess …” he demanded, leaning in, pulling down your gag, and taking your lips in a punishing kiss.

You cried out into his mouth, your orgasm finally washing over your body, causing it to spasm and jerk in Atsumu’s grip as he held you to his body, his fingers brutally fucking you through your high.

As soon as you’d stopped shaking, Atsumu slipped his fingers out of you and flipped you around, pressing his cock against your ass as your front was pressed into the bathroom counter. You rested your head down against the mirror, your eyes closing as your body still reeled from your orgasm.

You needed a little breather, but that wasn’t in Atsumu’s plan. His hand came down across your ass, making you squeak and lurch forward, your tits pressing down against the counter and your ass popping up into the air.

“Now come on Princess,” he drawled, pulling his cock out of his pants and thrusting it into you without warning, ripping a cry from your chest, “yer not tired yet are ya? We’re just getting started!”

“Nooo please ‘Tsumu...” you gasped, pushing yourself further into the counter, trying and failing to evade his touch.

His cock was hot and heavy inside of your still spasming pussy. You could feel every vein in him as you continued to pulse around him, he almost felt like his dick was suffocating in your soft puffy walls.

Atsumu groaned as he started to slowly fuck into you. He knew that if he started out going as fast as he’d like to, he’d be finished way too soon for his liking so he decided to slow his hips, his cock languidly dragging against your warm insides.

Atsumu couldn’t help these feelings of jealousy. After all, Bokuto was bigger and stronger than him. Deep down, he knew that the reason he was so bitter about you and the hitter’s friendship was that he was afraid of you leaving him for the owl-like spiker.

That’s why Atsumu chose to fuck you in the bathroom. He knew that the wall in the bathroom was the closest wall to Bokuto’s room. He knew that if he fucked you hard enough, he could make you scream his name loud enough to where his teammate would hear you. Then Bokuto would know just who you wanted stuffing your pretty little pussy.

“Come on Princess.” he teased, his hips grinding against your ass with a particularly hard thrust that had your mouth popping open and your lungs gasping for air.

“ You know you love this cock ……” he grunted when your pussy flared around him, clenching against his cock at the words, he grinned, he never knew that you liked getting fucked like a little slut, but now that he knew he swore that he’d never be able to return to fucking you like he had before. Not with the way that you were leaking for him as his degrading words cut through you like a hot knife.

You’d already adjusted to having him inside of you, the heat of him inside of you only being soothed by the cool countertop against your tits. You moaned with every thrust, you could already feel your mind beginning to fog over as Atsumu thrust behind you, plotting to fuck you dumb.

He suddenly stilled his hips, making you whine, trying to push yourself back onto him.

“‘Tsumu…” you whined, your eyes meeting his in the bathroom mirror, “move…”

He smirked, clicking his tongue at his messed up little baby.

“Tell me how much you love my cock, Princess.” He said, taking his dick completely out of you to rub it against your pussy lips, “tell me how much you love it and maybe I’ll fuck you again.”

Your face burned with humiliation. Atsumu had never acted this way before. Sure he was an asshole, but never this much of an asshole. That being said, there was no denying the impact that this side of Tsumu had on your body. You felt like you’d been enveloped in fire, every part of it burning up with need.

“ Please ‘Tsumu… .” you begged, “ I love your big cock so much….please fuck me …”

Atsumu groaned, his dick twitching against your slit. He loved hearing you like this, your voice broken as you begged for him to fill you. He could see the tears beginning to fall down your cheeks. So pretty.

“Since you asked so nicely Princess-” he cooed before harshly pumping his cock back into you, starting to fuck into you at a pace that had you crying and bucking back against him.

“Fuck!” you cried, “ Fuck- Tsumu…. Harder…. Fuck me harder ” you begged, you let your forehead fall forward against the mirror, your eyes drifting close.

“Shit” Tsumu growled through gritted teeth, you were so tight around him. He looked up to see your eyes closed.

‘Now that won’t do..’ he thought before threading a hand through your hair and pulling your head back off of the mirror, making a moan spill from your mouth and your eyes spring open.

“Come on Princess,” he panted, “ I wanna see your pretty tears while I fuck you. ”

***************

This was Atsumu’s favorite way to fuck you until you were crying and shaking around his cock. You looked so pretty with that dumb little look on your face, your eyes and lips puffy as you begged him to make you cum, telling him that all of it was too much for your poor little pussy.

He knew that you were reaching your limits, your pussy was fucked raw after 4 orgasms. You weren’t even able to form full sentences anymore, the only words coming out of your mouth were ‘more’ and ‘please’ along with all of your pretty pathetic little cries.

“‘Tsumu….” you cried, you could feel your fifth orgasm coming up inside of you. You didn’t know how much longer you could do this. Your clit was almost numb with how abused it’d been. Your nipples and tits were sore, and while you couldn’t see it, you knew that your whole body would be covered in bruises and marks tomorrow.

“ Please….hurts… ”

“Come on Princess….” he murmured as his fingers came down against your clit, “ just one more…”

You just whined in response, your hips jerking slowly against his pace. Your body was almost finished, but you knew that you had to give him just one more...one more and he’d finally let you rest.

“.... ..gonna….. gonna …” you panted.

Atsumu grinned down at you, your body was wrecked, your head was lolled to the side with your tongue hanging out as he fucked you hard enough for your tits and stomach to bounce with each thrust.

God, you looked so perfect for him. The way that your curves pressed against his body, the way that your pussy squelched with each thrust due to all of his cum that he’d dumped inside of you, all of it- all of you, was perfect… you were fucking built just for him.

“Me too baby…” he moaned, tossing his head back as he felt his third and probably finally orgasm approaching.

His fingers started playing with your puffy clit even faster making you choke on your tears, a new feeling entirely rising up.

You’d never felt this before, a look of horror suddenly came over your face as you began to feel like you were gonna piss.

“no… ’Tsumu!” you cried out, his pace not stopping at all as he began to feel your walls growing stiff.

He’d read about this before on the internet, seen it in porn, but never did he think that he’d actually be blessed enough to witness it.

“Fuck…” he moaned, his voice breaking as he sped up against your pussy.

“No… ” you gripped his forearms in fear, if you accidentally pissed on your boyfriend, you’d be left with no choice but to break up with him out of pure humiliation.

“ Please stop ‘Tsumu…’m gonna make a mess .”

He groaned at the fat tears rolling down your face. He knew what you were thinking, you’d probably never squirted for anyone before, you were probably surprised and scared. He knew he should reaffirm you, tell you it was okay. But he couldn't help but love the panic mixed with pleasure on your face as you begged him to stop.

“Come on Princess.” he panted, “ come on ….”

His hips were snapping into your at an inhuman speed now, each time his cock head bumped up against your g-spot.

“ You can do it Princess …” he promised, his fingers urging you to let you.

You shook your head, the tears of embarrassment running down your chin as you desperately tried to keep it in. You cried out, you could feel yourself starting to slip.

“ No- Fuck! ‘Tsumu!” you screamed, your body starting to convulse as liquid gushed out of your pussy, soaking Atsumu’s cock as he cummed into you, his eyes almost going crossed as you squirted all over his hips, the clear liquid running down his balls and dripping onto the bathroom floor.

“Fuck….yeah… squirt for me Babe. .” he groaned, riding out his high as you cried and gasped out his name.

He finally slowed his hips, your body completely limp with humiliation beneath him.

“Such a good girl….” he soothed, pushing the sweat-soaked hair out of your face as you continued to bawl.

“ ‘M sorry ‘Tsumu… ” you sobbed, still thinking you pissed all over your boyfriend’s cock.

“Don’t be sorry Princess, you did so good…you squirted so good for me Baby..you made such a good mess for me.”

For some reason, at Atsumu’s soft words, you began to cry even harder. Even as he assured you that you didn’t piss on him, you couldn’t help the tears of exhaustion that kept spilling over your cheeks.

“Are you okay baby?” he asked, guilt eating at his stomach as your crying didn’t cease.

Did he go too hard? Was it too much? Fuck! He couldn’t lose you, what if you didn’t like it? What if you left him?”

“F-felt so good ‘Tsumu….” you cried, finally returning his embrace as you wiped your tears against his defined chest, your soft body squishing against his athletic one as the hand rubbing your back stilled.

“Why are you crying then baby?” he asked gently, his fingers hooking under your chin as you sniffled.

“I dunno…” you whimpered, your eyes glossily staring back up at your boyfriend. Your body was completely blissed out, you could nothing but cry.

“Ok Baby… let’s get you cleaned up,” Atsumu whispered, gently lifting you off of the counter and guiding you to the shower so he could clean you up.

As he washed your plush body, he couldn’t help but admire his work. Every part of you looked absolutely fucked out and he quickly decided that he would die for you as you yawned, leaning yourself against him.

He kept whispering to you about how good you felt, how good you were for him, how he didn’t deserve you. Your body glowed with the soft compliments, a complete opposite of how he’d acted as he fucked you past over-stimulation.

After he finished washing you, he kissed you deeply, his strong arms wrapping around your body.

“Can you walk Baby?” he asked, softly wrapping a fluffy towel around your naked body.

You shook your head, sticking your bottom lip out in a pout.

“That’s okay..” he chuckled, his thumb running over your cheeks as he stared at you lovingly. “I’ll carry you wherever you want to go okay?”

You nodded, willing yourself not to start crying again at his soft words. You wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping a little to help him hoist you as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He walked you into the room, resting you in the bed and pulling the comforter up around you before snuggling into the other side, his body automatically coming up to spoon yours.

“I love you, Princess,” he whispered adoringly, his fingers brushing against your bruised skin.

“Mmmm…love you too..” you hummed, your body so exhausted that you quickly started snoring, making Atsumu grin.

He thought about how lucky he was to have you. He could safely say that he was completely satisfied with how loud you’d been for him, with how nicely you’d let him claim you.

*************

“Fuck…” Bokuto whispered, his back was still pressed against the shower wall. His hand was still wrapped around his softening cock as he stared at the cum washing down the drain.

All he’d wanted to do was grab a quick shower. He never expected what had happened.

His eyes closed as he willed himself not to get hard again as he recalled how your moans sounded through the wall as you cried for Atsumu’s cock.

He felt ashamed for the reaction he’d had to it. Felt ashamed of how hard his cock had gotten. Most of all, he was ashamed that he’d stood there and fucked his fist to the sound of you screaming for your boyfriend.

He sighed, getting out of the shower and toweling off, trying desperately to push the memories of those noises out of his head.

Suddenly his phone buzzed.

‘Hope you liked the show ;)’ - Miya Atsumu

He scowled down at his phone before throwing it back onto the floor. He flopped down into his bed.

He could still hear your voice,

‘Fuck ‘Tsumu! M cumming!.....fuuucckk….’

Yep. He was going to be hard for the next year.

How was he ever going to look you in the face again?

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x chubby reader #haikyuuxreader #haikyuu 18+#atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu #post timeskip

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sourmarmales · 5 years

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Tiny Baby — Deku x Reader

Anonymous asked: Hi can I request something where Deku is offering to help his s/o take care of their behemoth of a dog (great dane, saint bernard, any large/x-large breed) and Deku is having a little bit of a hard time because of howe big it is? Thanks so much, your blog is awesome

Summary: You may have left a crucial detail out about your dog.

Words: 600+

A/N: Sorry if this wasn’t what you were looking for! I grew up with my grandma’s great dane’s and I love those beasts! Even if they do suck up all of your energy.

_______________________________________________________________

Deku knew you adored dogs of all sizes. You would always suggest going to parks on dates when you both weren’t busy. He figured out why incredibly fast.

“Izuku! Look at the fluffy pomeranian!”

“Oh yeah it’s-”

“Awwww look at that pitbull, he’s got such a sweet fat face!”

“He is pretty cu-”

“Ooooooh that's a really nice lookin-”

And so on. He let you gush about the dogs for a whole hour before he finally got a word in edgewise.

But you always seemed to talk about your own like it was a tiny chihuahua.

You had asked if he could watch your ‘precious little baby’.

You slowly creaked open the door, covered in light grey paint. You were all smiles as soon as you saw his face. You grabbed onto his wrists, yanking him into the house before kicking the door shut.

“Thank you so much Izuku! I just need to paint the living room and Princess loves to jump!”

“Oh yeah, no problem (Y/N). How hard could it be?” He laughed nervously. This WAS the first time he’s been in your house.

“If you say so.” You slowly turned around, looking down the hall. “Where is my precious Lil baby…? PRINCESS!” You called, giving a small whistle.

You could see the visible surprise on Izuku’s face when loud thumping sounded from the dining area. It was even more when a giant dog slid into the corridor, but going to fast she slid right into the wall.

“There she is!” You cooed. The beast locked eyes on Izuku, her paws slid on the ground getting a running start at him.

Princess ran straight into Izuku, knocking him straight back into the door with a large thud.

Deku shielded his face as best as he could from the slobbery tongue attack.

“This is a dog? I thought it was a pony!” He shouted in shock as she huffed in his face. You can behind her and gave her a rough pat on the butt. Her tail slapped your legs and hit the wall with dangerously loud hits.

She smiled one last time down at him before skipping away happily. “Thank you!”

He could only stare at the beast in front of him. How was he supposed to control her? None the less, how did YOU control her?

He followed the dog out of the hallway.

He thought it was going to be an easy task, but she was running him in circles.

Every time she jumped, a loud thud would rattle the house.

He tried playing tug-of-war with her without using his quirk but it felt like his arm would get torn off.

But finally, she ran into the kitchen, leaving him to catch his breath.

He slid down on the wall, all the way to the floor. He could hear the sound of Princess lapping up water in the distance. She trotted happily back to him. His eyes widened as he watched the water and slobber drip from her mouth.

“No! Princess!” He held out his hands in distress. She only stood over him, her slobbery mouth dropping onto his pants. He shivered and stood up from the seat. Fast walking to the kitchen to try and clean some of the slobber off himself.

He laid down on the couch and sighed in relief, happy for the brief moment of peace. He wasn’t expecting the massive dog to hop right up on the couch and lay on top of him. He grunted as the weight pushed into him.

The dog let out a long sigh as she got comfortable. He could only give you a pitiful look as you walked into the room.

“Oh, honey! She likes you!” You smiled down at your two babies. You gave him a peck on the lips, moving over to Princess and rubbing her flabby face.

“This is her liking me?” His head fell back down to the couch, another slobbery kiss dragging right up his cheek as he gagged. He loved dogs, but he wasn’t ready to babysit one that was almost bigger than himself.

#izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #deku x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #mha #my hero academia

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youarejesting · 4 years

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BTS365

[Masterlist] Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester.

Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

Announcement: 600+ followers and I’m sorry to how dark some of these got but you know I kind of like when stories don’t always have a happy ending.

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March 25th - April 1st

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Kim Seokjin: Makeup

Heading into work you had a headache, it was excruciating, the throbbing behind your eye and the tightness around your temples. Your face felt swollen, and you packed on as much makeup as physically possible and you knew it wasn’t a good look. There were no lashes or mascara, no eyeshadow, no lipstick. Just concealer and foundation to the max.

You stepped into work and the receptionist gave you a weird look, usually; you got compliments when you wore makeup; you were pretty good and knew what worked well on your face. But today you looked strange. Your eye was too swollen to put anything near it and so you just looked like a one tonne alien.

“Hey babe, what’s going on?” A voice said, “you bailed on our movie night last night and didn’t even text me?” Seokjin was your saviour he made your dull job manageable. He took one look at you and froze he knew this wasn’t right. “What did he do?”

“It’s not that bad it’s just a bump”

He dragged you by the hand to his desk taking his face wipes from the first draw he tried to grab your chin, but you turned away. “Please let me see” he gently wiped away all the makeup he liked when you had a clean face. It was like he was seeing the real you, that isn’t to say he didn’t like when you dressed up, he liked how you could accentuate your eyes and lips.

But this, this was wrong. He felt sick, the more he removed the more the colours were revealed dark purples and blues stained your smooth skin, there was a small scab on your cheekbone where the skin had split on impact. He shoved the packet of wipes into your arms and turned declaring. “I will kill him”

Min Yoongi: On a stick

“It’s just meat on a stick?” You rolled your eyes at your best friend who was being lured from his apartment from his roommate Jungkook. You had planned to spend the afternoon together where you were going to tell him how you feel about him finally after all these years. Hell, you even stood by him when he dated girls through high school even though it nearly killed you.

“Yeah, why do you make it sound like a bad thing?” Yoongi scoffed grabbing his jacket, “Come along we can get some food and come back and watch the movie”

“Look you don’t have to come, we don’t need haters ruining our dinner” Jungkook sighed grabbing his keys, and you reluctantly slipped on your shoes and coat running after them. You didn’t even order before you snapped.

“Jungkook what is your problem with me, I just wanted to spend the afternoon with my best friend and maybe tell him that I have been in love with him since fifth grade and you’re out here making me feel like absolute trash,” You hissed Yoongi was frozen starring at his menu. He looked like he was deep in thought. Realizing what you said and how he had reacted to your blunt and unexpected confession you left.

“y/n!” Jungkook shouted he caught you quickly “hey, dude I am sorry, I thought you liked me and I was trying to push you away because… Yoongi likes you, said he has liked you since fifth grade and has never wanted to ruin the friendship. I really am sorry, go back inside he is in shock and is silently freaking out that he will never see you again. Lunch is on me, here”

Jung Hoseok: Smoke and Mirrors

Your son wanted to be a magician, and you spent a fair amount of money on all the books and toys and such but as his passion grew so did the hole in your bank account. You bought him front row tickets to see a world-renowned magician live on stage. It was an amazing performance. The magician was very good looking and was so bright and bubbly he danced he made all the sound effects. Your son insisted you see him backstage, and you took him back there. It took a long time but your son refused to leave. The dressing room door opened and there he was, his shirt buttons undone slightly.

“Why hello, who do we have here?” he smiled at you and your son and you gave him an apologetic smile

“I am so sorry to bother you, my son, he is an aspiring magician and well he wanted to meet you and I really couldn’t say no to at least trying”

“No, don’t apologize,” he looked at his watch and grinned, “I got time, come in and sit and tell me about yourself. What’s your name? Do you know any tricks?” The two talked until your son had fallen asleep on the couch.

“Whatever you did, that’s real magic right there,” The two of you laughed.

“Do you need help to your car, he looks a little heavy, or I can carry your bags if that’s more comfortable for you,” He smiled and the two of you headed to the parking lot. Buckling your son into the passenger seat, you turned to say goodbye, and he swept his hand behind your ear. “It seems my number was behind your ear this whole time”

He placed the paper into your hand and gave you a grin, one hand slipping into his pocket to find his keys and the other waving goodbye.

Kim Namjoon: Walk in the Park

Namjoon was a smart man, he knew everything that happened in the neighbourhood. The street lights along the park path flickered off for twenty seconds every three minutes. The old lady Lady by the store shut her curtains at 6:15 exactly after watching her shows and feeding her cat. The walk through the park took Five minutes exactly, and that there were three security cameras on the path.

People were going missing and were usually found dead days later. He set off on his usual walk at 6:00 heading to the store; he stopped to pat the cat and waved to the old woman. He bought a single bottle of Soju as he did every night. Explaining how he had to get home before his slow cooker was finished, showing the timer on his phone. “It’s got 8 minutes left I should make it home by 6:15”

Walking he saw you alone, he sped up a little and matched your stride. “Don’t look now but there is a drunk man a little way ahead, and the path lights are switch off for about thirty seconds every three minutes” Just as he finished his sentence the lights switched off. You grew stiff under the moonlight. “I am Namjoon”

He continued walking talking to you about the stars, the old lady was feeding her cat before bed, it was 6:10 she would soon close her curtains. He waved to the old and then to you. Thanking him for the help you both parted ways saying goodnight to the old lady. Namjoon smiled to himself walking out of the camera frame and the lights flickered out. You walked hesitantly in the dark but didn’t get very far before you were knocked out from behind.

Chained to an old metal bed frame when you woke, your eyes needing time to refocus you saw Namjoon standing there in a white coat. “Shh it’s okay, you are okay, you see I am an expert. My alibi and the camera footage, I just picked you up and tipped you over the stonewall of this apartment block and walked home. As all footage and security cameras show me parting ways with you even the old lady saw you go off on your own, nobody knows. Nobody knows that is is me”

Park Jimin: Burn

You opened a sealed box, and you read the stupid script. You were using it as a chance to practice your reading and speaking Korean. But you had let it out, and it was chasing you. Its eyes blacked out and horns coming out from his hair. He looked eerie and was still recovering strength which gave you time to run hiding in a church.

Stopping at the door it watched you and you were relieved until it reached in blackened nails gripping the door frame. It stepped inside calling your name sweetly, you could see the embers flaking off its body slowly not enough to kill it but enough to annoy.

You ran hiding in the confession booth your breathing was shaky. It sang a haunted tune. Its voice layered a low sound that crackled and a high breathy sound like a whine. You held your breath as it passed, calling your name. You thought it was gone, but you didn’t want to take any chances.

You opened your phone the words you had spoken in the translator the demon's name was Jimin and upon searching the name you found it was a demon of Lust, Deception, Chaos and Misfortune. It resides in the third outermost circle of hell with Preceding Taehyung and following from Namjoon. The strongest demon being Kim Seokjin.

A hand busted through the wall of the confessional by your head and wrapped around your throat pulling you threw the thin and shattered wall.

Kim Taehyung: Battery

You forgot to plug your phone in the night before so you charged it while you got ready; it was only at 28% and you sighed heading out to work. You met a client and discussed his hotel remodelling.

Your phone which you had turned off when you weren’t using it at work was now at 16%. It was early in the afternoon and you were emailing a client important information and rushing across town to meet with a supplier. You crossed the road getting hit with a car laying in the rain you found it hard to breathe all the air seemed to have escaped your body. Dragging your arm across the concrete your phone held tightly in your fist you pressed the numbers for emergency services you hit the call button when your phone powered down.

A face appeared about you looking horrified he called the ambulance shaking there was a light behind his head. It seemed like a halo and he was your very own angel.

Jeon Jungkook: Beach @live-2-fangirl

The beach was quiet; it was overcast and occasionally would sprinkle with rain. You were never deterred, and this weather was better for churning up the sea and creating a few gnarly waves. You laughed at the expression gnarly and swore on your life never to think nor speak it ever again. Getting on your surfboard you swam out to sea it was incredibly exhilarating weaving across the water.

The water grew unforgiving in what seemed like a second pulling you out and you were dunked by a wave and tossed around. You didn’t panic swimming to the light. Breaking the surface, you blinked the saltwater from your eyes and tried to get it out your nose and throat. It was brighter than you remembered. Maybe there was a break in the clouds.

“Can we be of aid lad?” A voice called you looked up to see an old wooden shop, the kind that looked like it belonged in a Johnny Depp quintology of films. Leaning over the side of the ship was a young man, his hair shaggy hair falling forward as he looked down at you. Your wetsuit removed any femininity from your figure and your hair was in a very messy bun. You climbed up the rope ladder on the side of the ship as you didn’t see any signs of your beach anywhere.

It was so sunny with not a cloud in the sky. Did you die? Getting up onto the ship you laid your board down on the deck removing the surf leash from your ankle.

“Where be your port?” He asked they all looked like they were fresh out of a romance novel with billowing shirts and shaggy hair.

You ripped the velcro around your neck and pulled the zip down your back. Peeling the wetsuit of your arms until they were free, letting out your hair shaking it with your fingers hoping it wouldn’t take long to dry. Some of your swimsuit was on display and as you went to take the wetsuit completely off a long waistcoat was draped over your shoulders.

“My apologies, my lady, we will fetch you some dry clothes,” you shrugged his coat off onto the deck.

“No, need I will be dry soon” you continued to strip, and he unbuttoned his shirt and fastened it around you buttoning it up.

“These scallywags cannot be trusted with a beautiful woman like yourself” he smiled “you are as tempestuous as the waters we sail”

Next Week

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stachestachestache · 5 years

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600 Celebration: Arrival

Summary: Alpha!Chris (from The Martian) helps you through the labor of your pup. It’s my first time writing something in the A/B/O universe so please be gentle and don’t expect too much lol.

Somehow 600 of you decided my weirdness is fun to follow so I’m writing a series with six installments to commemorate this milestone, cuz why not? Thank you for following and being part of this community with me. I really do enjoy being on here and being insane with each and every one of you. This is the third installment of the series!

Word Count: 1406…

Warnings: Labor and birth (have i been listening and watching too many podcasts and videos on motherhood and childbirth? probably, but here goes.) Also tons of fluff!

A/N: Really trying out some writing and stuff. Feedback is always appreciated.Continuing with the dad!Bucky theme just cuz I love it.

Chris knew it was coming even before it began.

It was his intuition that made him such a good doctor and probably part of the reason why he was chosen to go into space. Those intergalactic voyaging days are behind him now, having married and settled down. He thought the allure of space would forever haunt him but after meeting you, he quickly realized the entirety of his universe is contained in the love you have for one another.

Only a few weeks after the wedding, Chris began to notice a subtle shift in your scent, barely there and unnoticeable to the untrained nose. A rosy texture forged with your usual lavender aroma that you either weren’t aware of or chose not to address.

“Do you smell that?” he asked you, after a week, when the smell had persisted. You were both getting ready for work; as professors at the same university, you took one car every morning and parted ways at the entrance with a quick kiss -- him, ambling off the the sciences and you to the humanities (Chris never expected to fall in love with the wordy philosophy professor, but life is good at throwing curve balls at him).

“Smell what?” you had answered incredulously.

The pieces suddenly clicked in your alpha’s mind -- “We need to see your doctor.”

Now, nine months out from that day, Chris could tell your pup’s arrival was fast approaching. Better than anyone else, he could see the minute changes in your body, ones that you even barely registered sometimes in the face of all the other discomforts of pregnancy.

You stubbornly refused to take a year-long sabbatical, teaching through your first two trimesters before hunkering down and agreeing to take a break from teaching and continue your research from home. When you finally sent in your request for leave, Chris felt a sense of relief wash over him. It brought him a sense of security to know you were in the safety and comfort of your own home, rather than walking around a large university campus, dealing with the stress of students and grading.

While he continued teaching, the leniency of the job allowed him to spend a lot of time by your side, caring and watching over you like the protective alpha he is. Although it annoyed you at first, eventually you relented to Chris’ protective ways, staying mostly in the house, leaving house chores to him (which you often whined about because of his sub-par cleaning abilities) and never lifting anything that weighed over 5 lbs.

It was exhausting and there were moments when you wanted to scream at Chris, but any time he saw the fire light in your eyes, he would quickly smother it with sweet kisses and purrs; he used your increased craving for affection to his advantage, often nosing your scent gland and marking on your neck to calm you down. It was nice and infuriated you and you never hesitated to let Chris know as much, even as you were wrapped up in his arms, under several layers of blankets.

As the pregnancy progressed, your instinct to create the perfect nest became more and more pronounced. After coming home from classes, Chris would often find you on the floors of your house, scrubbing away at nonexistent grime. When it came time to assemble the nursery, the scientist walked in to a room stacked with so many comforters, pillows and blankets, he was sure you had bought out your local Bed, Bath and Beyond. It was frightening and endearing all at once. It took over a week for you both to properly scent them in preparation for your pup.

Chris was certain he had maxed out on his love for you, that his body and mind were incapable of feeling any more affection for his omega. You are his everything. His heart is so intertwined with yours, he often forgets where he begins and you end. Chris didn’t know two separate lives could meld together the way yours and his did. It wasn’t easy and there were definitely bumps along the way but it all made sense.

But as your body and child grew, so did Chris’ feelings. Even as a doctor, who understood on the molecular and biological level, everything that was happening, he was amazed and astonished at your strength and courage, what you and your body was capable of. You were so precious and his top priority in life was always to protect you, and now, also your child.

Even before you both climbed into bed, Chris knew tonight was the night. You kept repeating like a mantra that you still had three weeks, but Chris could feel it in his gut. He debated whether even to sleep, but at your insistence, he crawled in with you and shut his eyes. He awoke several hours later to your whimpering, low and quiet but filled with distress. It set all his alpha instincts on high alert.

When he saw and felt your belly harden and soften under the blankets in a scarily rhythmic pattern, he got to work packing your bags and preparing the car. Strangely enough, you were still asleep, riding through the contractions barely conscious.

When he finished loading the car, you were finally awake and in tears, kneeling on the floor and grasping the bedsheets after having tried to get out of bed.

“Where were you?” he felt chills run down his spine at your tone, rushing over to help you out of bed.

“Prepping the car to go, let me help you into some clothes and we can get to the hospital,” he tried to say as calmly as he could. He was whispering for some reason.

Chris could see it coming, but he never anticipated how fast it could be.

“I won’t make it to the car; I’m not going to make it to the hospital,” you could feel the pain searing through your body, the urge to expel this new human out from you and into the new world was overwhelming.

Chris began to panic, but tried to keep it under control as to not startle you more.

“It’s okay, we’re okay, I’ll figure it out. You’re going to be okay. The pup is gonna be okay...”

It was all a jumbled mess of words falling out of his mouth as he tried to remember the time he spent in the maternity ward during his residency. Running to maneuver you back onto the bed, he told you he would be right back as you whimpered again in distress. When he checked on your progress, he realized how close you both were to meeting your little bundle of joy.

“Excited to meet us huh? Couldn’t wait for the hospital???” Chris murmured under his breath as he rushed around. He had a feeling this early and hasty arrival would just be a taste of what new life with their pup was going to be... fast and unexpected.

He grabbed blankets, scissors and shoe laces, started a pot of water boiling on the stove before rushing back to your bedroom when a scream cut through the silence of your house.

“He’s coming now, Chris, get the fuck back here and help me!”

“He? How do you know it’s a he?” The questions slip out before Chris can stop himself.

You meet him with glare of rage and anger when he arrives back into your bedroom, one that frightens the alpha to his core.

“YOU! You’re the reason I’m here right now!” Chris tried to ignore the murderous gaze in your eyes as you yanked him to you by the collar, screaming in his face from the pain.

From that moment onward, it was like attempting to reach the crescendo of a beautiful, but cacophonous song. At moments, it felt like you would never reach it.

“One last push baby, he’s almost here.”

With one last exertion of energy, a tiny tiny wail sounded in your ears. Chris quickly worked to cut the umbilical cord before lifting your child onto your chest... he heaved a sigh and took a moment to just stare at mother and child before he was hit with the overwhelming reality that he’s a father.

Again, his affection grows tenfold and when he comes to from his journey through his mind, he sees you staring at him, tears, this time of joy and love, sliding down your cheeks. You beckon him over and for the first time, as a family of three, cuddle on the bed.

#alpha!chris #chris beck #the martian #sebastian stan #chris beck fanfic #chris beck fanfiction #chris beck x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #chris beck x reader #sebastian stan fanfic #chris beck au #dad!chris beck #dad!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #stache's 600 celebration

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markrichardson · 5 years

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My Year in Spotify Listening

Like a lot of people I checked out the Spotify year-end summary thingy, and since Spotify is only a certain percentage of my listening, the results were surprising, and I tried to figure out what it meant. In general, I listen to new music via iTunes, if I am sent promos. That only encompasses a certain amount of new music of course, but if I’m sent a download, I tend to use that for my listening all year long. Often, I’m “done with” an album more or less by the time it comes out, but sometimes I’ll keep listening (as w/ DJ Koze this year) and I do that with my promo files. My Spotify listening tends to be a mix of things I stick on a few different playlists based on mood or genre, and they could come from anywhere (but they aren’t usually new).

In terms of my favorite artists (Bill Evans wound up in my top spot, somehow, followed by Joni Mitchell) it was hard to figure out how it’d happened, because I didn’t spend the year obsessed with either. Then I looked at my 100 most played songs, and that did bring back a few things. I’m not sure if the whole list is in order, but the first 5 songs in the playlist are the 5 listed when Spotify gave me my most-listened-to tracks of the year, so I think so? Anyway, that’s what I am going with here. This is how my Top 10 songs show up on the playlist, in order, with one exception: in the middle of the list was Bow Wow Wow’s “See Jungle,” which I already wrote about on Tumblr 8 years ago (and about which I have very little to say now, except that yes I do still listen to this song a fair amount), so I’ve omitted that and included No. 11.

Wussy: “Runaway” This was my favorite song of the year, it has 600 plays on Youtube and 5,400 on Spotify, which makes me a little sad. Technically it’s not from this year—Wussy put this out on a small-release tape or CD-R a few years ago—but I’m still counting it. This is the rare case where the streaming media playcounts tend to match the responses of folks I’ve talked to about this song—I mentioned to 4 or 5 people, and in each case they said “Yeah that’s kind of nice I guess...why do you like it so much?” I’ll try to answer that here.

First I should say that I have no real interest in or knowledge of Wussy. They’re an indie rock band from Ohio, most notable at this point for the fact that Robert Christgau loves them, and has written rapturous reviews of their work over the years, which surely has helped them to achieve whatever small amount of notoriety they have. I checked them out here and there but they didn’t make much of an impression on me. I wish I could remember how I came across this particular song, but I can’t, probably either Twitter or a streaming media algorithm. But I loved it immediately, like, stop-what-you-are-doing-and-listen kind of loved. It just clicked.

The first thing that comes to mind is the chorus: “I love you, let’s run away.” That’s the theme of so many of my favorite songs, I mean, the first album I bought in my life was “Born to Run,” and if you could sum up the first three Springsteen albums in in 6 words, “I love you, let’s run away” wouldn’t be bad. And I think I liked that this song didn’t try for poetic phrasing, just said it in the simplest way possible.

But the romance of a song like this has a shade of darkness to it, and that draws me in even more. Escape is never a long-term strategy. Eventually you have to figure out how to make life work when you’re in the thick of it. So while it’s such an appealing dream to exit the world with someone you’re crazy about, there is a shelf life to that sort of gesture. I relate to this idea of being fed up with everything in the moment and wanting to jump in the car with the only person who gets you, but eventually, the car is is going to need gas. What then?

I didn’t know when I first heard this song that it was a cover, so the immediate impact of it was as a Wussy song. But I learned that it was written and recorded by another Ohio artist that people in the band had known, a woman named Jenny Mae. She died last year. Pitchfork did a news story on her passing. She was 49. And when I found that it was her song, I listened to her version and I loved it almost as much (but not quite), though her take also made my Spotify Top 20. I did think enough of her version to order the 7-inch, which was her first release. When I read about Jenny Mae’s life, the song took on another layer of meaning. She suffered from mental illness and self-medicated with alcohol. And she was described by people who knew her as brilliant and creative and hilarious but also impulsive and self-destructive. Which for me gives a sentiment like “No one likes us anyway / I hate my job / Sweet, sweet are the innocent / I love you, let’s run away” and “40 ounce between your legs/ Shakin up my heart / Turn around and look at me / Light another smoke” a different tint. These are the kinds of things you say when in the throes of a rush of feeling, but they’re not impulses you can safely follow for a lifetime, even though goddammit, sometimes I want to.

Bo Diddley: “Nursery Rhyme” In Richmond early this year I bought an old Bo Diddley album called The Originator. I saw it in a used bin, it was $20, and, it was pure instinct, I had a feeling it was interesting. For me, buying used records, $20 is a fair amount of money, I don’t pay that for something I’ve no idea about, typically. But something compelled me to pick it up. I was intrigued that it had none of the hits I knew. And I took it home and when I put it on a short while later it blew my mind. This surprised me because on the one hand it sounds so much like the idea of “Bo Diddley” I keep in my brain, the one rhythm we know from the song he named after himself, but this was just so controlled, so well rendered, with so much atmosphere. The whole thing is brilliant. I became particularly obsessed with this cut from the record, and then I started exploring the “Bo Diddley” beat in general, reading whatever I could about it and listening to examples. This kind of random deep-dive is the best thing about the internet era for a music fan.

Mulatu Asatke: “Tezeta (Nostalgia” At nights when I hang out with my Mom at her condo in Michigan I play music over a Bluetooth speaker I bought a year ago. My Mom’s default has for a while been to put the television on, but at some point I asked her about playing music instead so we could talk or just hang out, and she grew to like it. Sometimes we’ll chat about stuff, and sometimes she will play Candy Crush on her iPad while I do things on my phone, which sounds distant but is actually very comforting to me. One of the things I’m doing on my phone during these evenings is finding songs to play. It’s quite fun (and interesting) for me to say to myself “What is a playlist that would make my Mom happy?” and then try and figure out what that might be on the fly. She was never really a music person so I don’t have a lot to go on, mostly her age, a story or two about a song she liked, and a vague knowledge of what she might have heard on the radio in my lifetime.

In September, my Dad died, and I stayed with my Mom in her condo for a number of days that month. I felt a strange mix of feelings. On the one hand, he was father, I missed him, I thought about never being able to talk to him again, to not be able to share the things in my life. I thought about the fact that I wouldn’t be able to learn more about his life, my knowledge of which is pretty sketchy. There were all the usual things a person would be sad about. But then there was the fact that he had a severe and debilitating case of Parkinson’s disease for the last eight years, and at times he suffered so terribly. I remembered how on a few occasions he called me while he was delusional, he would tell me that he was sure he was going to die. One time, he told me that he saw someone in the driveway who was going to kill him. Another time, he said that it was hard to explain but that he had been split into two people, and he couldn’t take it, he was terrified. I told him that it would be better tomorrow and he yelled, “I’m going to be dead by tomorrow!” I would get calls like this while I was walking to work in Brooklyn 700 miles away, and I would feel so helpless. And so when he passed, I thought about him during situations like that, and also felt like maybe not he had some peace.

A night or two after my Dad died I was sitting with my Mom, talking, and playing music. She dug out some old photos and we were looking at them, pictures from her in high school that I had never seen. I wanted to see everything, learn every detail. And over that Bluetooth speaker I was playing some random playlist I had found called something like “Jazz for late night.” I wanted background music. And while we were hanging out and talking, this song came on, “Tezeta” by the Ethiopian jazz bandleader Mulatu Astatke. And man, it’s hard to describe, but the mood of this song so perfectly captured the exact feeling I had. The phrase that comes to mind is “bombed out,” that’s the way it seemed, like I’d been beaten up and thrown in a ditch and my ears were ringing and now I was trying to reorient myself after all that had happened. There was a feeling of weariness and sadness but also a feeling that life continues, that we have to gather our memories and keep on. And this impossibly beautiful song captured every bit of that, the one-chord riff moving ahead, in spite of it all, while the sax line captures all the sadness dripping off everything at the same time. I listened to it constantly in the weeks afterward.

Galaxie 500: “Fourth of July” (live) One of my favorite songs by one of my favorite band in my favorite version. This song is indicative of how (as with all songs on this list) when I’m in the mood I can listen to one track over and over. On a couple of occasions in 2018, I listened to this maybe 8 or 9 times in a row, immediately hitting “back” when it had finished. And the thing I was typically listening to was Naomi Yang’s bassline, which to me holds the lion’s share of the song’s feeling. Her bass playing in Galaxie 500 is so incredibly emotional to me, and it was never more so than here.

Pusha T: “Infrared” The one truly “new” song on here.” I didn’t have an advance of this record so I listened on Spotify when it came out and I loved it. And this song in particular seemed so perfect, the carefully constructed rap, executed as if it’s coming off the top of his head, the sample—I listened to this many times in a row on a few occasions, and it also sent me to revisit Clipse, which brought me a lot of joy.

Joni Mitchell: “Carey” Another song about freedom, but here it’s real. Blue is a perfect record but I probably revisit this one more than any other single song because I’m so in love with the production—that bass, that hand percussion...sonically, an album recorded almost 50 years ago simply cannot be improved upon. I remember hearing this one on AM radio when I was very young. It was a single, b/w “This Flight Tonight,” one hell of a 7-inch. I’ve always thought the picture it painted was so incredibly romantic—”Maybe I’ll go to Amsterdam, maybe I’ll go to Rome / And rent me a grand piano and put flowers 'round my room.” Hey, why not! And if Carey is indeed keeping her in this tourist town, we know it’s only for another hour, another day, another week, whenever she’s ready, she can’t be tied down. But then, that’s the future: this night, now, is a starry dome, and we’re alive, inside it.

Arthur Russell: “That’s Us/Wild Combination” Sometimes w/ my favorite Arthur Russell songs you can hear the strain as he creates a new genre trying to get a particular unnamable feeling across. But not this one. Sitting in a room with his friend Jennifer Warnes he made a song that feels as natural as a breath.

Carole King: “Pleasant Valley Sunday” I’m in awe of Carole King’s ability to write songs that sound perfect on the radio. Even if her prime hitmaking years only lasted a bit over a decade, the number of her songs with her name on them that left a huge mark on culture is staggering. Her demo for the Monkees hit “Pleasant Valley Sunday” shows how perfect everything was before the artist who would bring the song to the public got anywhere near it. I found this one on Youtube 8 or 9 years ago and it’s been in regular rotation since.

Hank Williams: “The Angel of Death” In February and March I was doing research my Pitchfork Sunday Review on Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska. It’s one of my favorite records, and I’ve wanted to write something long on it for years, so spending time w/ it as the winter wound down was an intense pleasure. It’s common knowledge that Springsteen was listening to a lot of Hank Williams when he was writing the album, and when I came across this song, I became obsessed with it. One, the melody sounds right off Nebraska, and “My Father’s House” (another song I listened to a lot this year) especially seems directly modeled on it. But this song has so much going for it on its own. It’s about death and the moment of judgement, but Hank’s melody and phrasing don’t sound frightened. It’s hopeful, a prayer instead of an admonishment.

Guided by Voices: “Motor Away” I’ve loved this song for years but I listened to it intently around the same time I was playing the Hank Williams, when I was thinking about leaving Pitchfork. I’ve never been a big fan of Robert Pollard’s lyrics (though I love many of his tunes), but he second line here is the one I couldn’t put out of my mind: “When you free yourself from the chance of a lifetime.” That’s where I felt I was. Editing this music magazine that I cared so much about was the culmination of a dream that took a long time, a ton of work, and a fair amount of luck to realize. When the chance of a lifetime comes along, you’re supposed to hold on to it as tightly as possible for as long as possible, until someone finally pries it away, which will happen eventually. I knew that. And yet, deep down, I knew that after 11 years, I wanted to try something else. Run away, motor away, drive away. Sometimes a song can give you the tiniest push.

#writing #myfather

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lillianwrites · 6 years

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Sad Hearts And Black Eyes

A/n: honestly I’ve been working on this for close or probably longer than a year, and I’m so scared to post it, but I hope someone enjoys this🖤 I’m going to try updating every Monday and Wednesday after today��All triggers in the tags, please check beforehand.

Words: 1,756

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Black tires screeched to a stop as the old light guarding the town turned straight from green to red. Phil groaned, as this added just another minute to his trip, and he was so ready to just get to the Kingston police station, and start working, he had travelled over 600 miles for this case, and he needed to stretch his legs and kill some ghosts.

Phil Lester was a hunter, no, not a bambi hunter, those who believe their tough because they took down a defenseless animal, but a hunter of the things that go bump in the night. His father had been a hunter, and he had taken after his footsteps after he had died sixteen years ago, relying on his “uncle” Bobby Singer, to show him the ropes, and to go on hunts with him, as he had been fourteen at the time.

He had travelled all the way to kingston, after he had read the paper, and saw the pastor had been brutally murdered in his own home, ripped literally form shred to shred. Phil had almost looked past it, usually spirits that angry had a personal feud with the deceased, meaning no one else would be in harm's way, and most likely it would be gone, until he saw the pastor had an eighteen year old son, who had been away when it had happened.

Phil had never heard of a personal spirit leaving close family alone, and the pastor's wife died in childbirth, so most likely, this kid was in danger, and Phil couldn't just let it happen when he saw the picture of the pastor and his son, who had brilliant, innocent brown eyes. So here he was, now taking off once the light was green, and travelling into kingston.

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The first thing Phil noticed, was the sidewalks were empty. Every single picture Phil had ever seen of Kingston, people were walking to their destinations, enjoying the sun, it was august, so it wasn’t cold, so most likely, people were too afraid to walk, too afraid of to them, who might have done this.

The police station was small only fifteen or so cars all together in the parking lot. It was a white and grey building, with steps leading up to it. Phil sighed looking out of his car, and then grabbing the secret box of fake badges out of the storage compartment, and placing it in his coat pocket.

He walked up to the door, and pulled it open, immediately getting hit with the smell of cinnamon and coffee. A tall lady sat at the desk, flipping through files, until she heard the bell ring and looked up. She had long brown hair, and what appeared to be grey eyes, and stood at at least 6’0. She had a kind smile on her face as he walked up to the desk, and he couldn't help but give her a grin as he pulled out the badge.

“I'm here with the fbi to handle the pastor case.” he said, looking at her before putting his badge away.

She grew a sad smile on her face, before nodding. “The chief's office is right through that door to the left, last door, let me know if you need anything.” She said, before looking back down to her papers, as Phil walked to the office door, heaving a sigh before knocking a few times.

“Come in.” Called a woman's voice, and Phil slowly turned the handle, walking in, to be met with a shorter lady, with a blonde ponytail, and green eyes. She wore a smile, but it seemed tense, and her eyes did not match the light in her smile.

“what can i do for you?” She asked, looking over Phil before sitting down in her chair, and crossing her arms.

Phil once again pulled out his badge, showing it to her, before putting it away and saying “My name is Garrett O'brien, i'm with the FBI, I've been sent to work on the pastor case.”

Just as the other woman at the desk, her smile turned sad as he mentioned the case, like they were close friends, and judging the size of the town, they probably were. It seemed like everyone around this place was in a sour and sad mood.

“I see, well, what do you need?” She asked, looking at him. She appeared content that someone else would be taking over on the dirty parts of the case, and maybe he felt the smallest hint of regret.

“I need the original file case, and a pass to the scene, alone.” He said looking at her. Hopefully she wouldn't question it, and he would be granted both.

The lady nodded, writing something on a sticky note, before placing it on a huge file of papers, and handing him a privilege badge. She then held out her hand.

“My name is deputy Garden, come to me if you need anything, or the lady who took you in the front. And please,” she cut off with a short break, an Phil prepared himself for a sob story, before she surprised him, her eyes a sad grey as she finished. “-find whoever did this, whatever did this, please bring this case justice. We’ll be here to help in anyway you need.” Before she sat down, giving him a final nod as a farewell.

Phil walked out of her office, exiting the station before walking to his car, his prized possession, his 1970, Pontiac GTO. It was a classic two door, matte black. He called her Baby, and whoever dared to talk down to his car was sure to receive a few broken ribs. He got in, not bothering to put on his seatbelt as he started the car and began driving to the pastors house.

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Mrs. Garden had called him two miles into the drive to warn him the pastors eighteen year old son was at the house, and was willing to answer questions, but asked that he wouldn't be showed a picture of the body, his son had been the one to find him, and he couldn't unsee it.

When he pulled into the driveway, he noticed this was the picket fence house, a white fence around a big front yard, with an oak tree in the front yard, and a white and gold front door, with a wreath with a scripture engrave into the log in the center.

“Wow, this is what i was missing.” he mumbled to himself, as he got out of the car and went to knock on the door. He honestly felt very unholy surrounded by the garden Angels glaring at him beside the garden of Lilys in the front.

He stood on the doorstep for a minute, before the door was opening, and the son stood in front of him. Phils first thought was that pictures do not give him justice.

He stood probably around 5’6, short for a dude but nothing drastic. He had brown hair, that was in a curly mess upon his head, like he couldn't be bothered to brush it, and Phil didn't blame him. His eyes were a bit of a darker brown than his hair, and the sadness in them made Phil feel a little sick, he knew this was how Bobby must have seen him, why he said it hurt so much to watch him grow without his father.

The boy looked up at Phil's 6’2 frame with distrust, before most likely remembering that Mrs. Garden had told him he was stopping by.

“Are you Mr. O'brien?” The boy asked, shyly standing in the doorway.

Phil nodded “That's me, you must be..” cmon Phil, you read it. “Daniel.” He finished looking at the boy to make sure that he was correct.

Daniel nodded, before stepping back and opening the door farther so that Phil could step inside.

“I found him in his bedroom.” He spoke softly, like as if saying it loud and clearly made it real. Phil could understand that. “His, his insides were, well, outside.. and he was still warm, which really scared me, whoever could have still been here, i could have been killed the same way. But i wasn't?” he said, before shaking his head and making his way up the stairs, looking back to make sure that Phil was following him.

He led him to the upstairs level, and down the hallway, before stopping on the second door to the right. He then took a deep breath, before opening it up.

Inside the walls were a beige coffee creme kind of color, perhaps with more yellow undertones, there was a large bed in the middle of the room, with a brown comforter and three or four white and red pillows. A nightstand stood on the left side, and a dresser ln the right of the room. A huge white sliding door stood in the corner, obviously the closet door, and the room slowly turned into a thin hallway, leading into a bathroom that appeared to be the same color.

In the middle of the room, a huge red stain laid across the white carpet, clearly the police haven't finished reviewing it yet.

He heard Daniels breath hitch, and he turned to him. “Hey, if this gets too much, just tell me kid, don't worry about staying here just to help.”

Daniel nodded, but didn't leave, heading to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Phil looked around the room, usually if it was a spirit, something would have emf.

he turned to Daniel again “Would you mind getting me some water?” He asked turning back. Daniel nodded looking happy to leave this room, as he stepped out and went downstairs.

Phil hurriedly pulled out the small contraption, before he turned it toward the wall, peeking through the room. Just as he was about to lose hope that this was a spirit, a pissed off one at that, the machine spiked setting of a loud beeping sound, as he passed the closet.

He heard Dan rummaging inside the kitchen, so he figured it was safe as he opened up the closet door. It smelled of cinnamon, and the clothes all looked ironed and clean.

He rummaged around, passing things with the device before itg spiked yet again, over a box hidden at the back of the closet, he was beginning to lift up the lid and peek inside, when Dan's voice sounded from behind him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

#phan #phanfic #phan prompt #phanfic au #phanfiction #supernatural #angst #fluff #smut #mentions of blood and gore #character death (not a main character)#possessed dan

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nowpendingchile · 5 years

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Papa’s world

Today our plans were to go to where my Dad grew up along the coast and to hit the beach. It was a 2 hour drive that I wasn’t sure how it was going to go as I did not bring electronics. Lucky for us Lita (my mom and my kids nickname for her instead of abuelita) found these books with a wooden pencil that you can write on to discover cool colors and pictures. Well that was the best as they were highly entertained and it lasted the ride there.

The last time I was here in Chile was back in ‘96. Some things I remember clearly and others I don’t ever remember seeing. The road there was paved with mountains and homes both run down but some also middle class. I don’t remember all the tunnels that we went through today, under rivers and through mountains. I also didn’t remember the beauty of all the fruit farms and vineyards nestled in the valleys of the mountains. Seeing how they were laid out strategically placed to get the water they needed was so fascinating. I guess being in high school not so sure I really appreciated those things. It was also great to catch up with my cousin joking around and laughing. It was funny how we would start talking in Spanish and then laugh but then realizing Greg got none of it from the front seat as it was in Spanish. We would also start talking to Greg in Spanish not realizing that we were speaking Spanish...he really was a good sport about it all. Though some of the stuff he would understand and he always tries to talk things out in Spanish before going back to English. I’m interested to see how far he gets in this trip with his Spanish. Immersion is the key!

We talked to the kids about how we were going to Valparaiso and Viña Del Mar. We told them how Papa grew up here and worked here. Libby was just awestruck and kept saying “I can’t wait till we get to Papa’s world”. Hence Papa’s world was born and we referred to it as such the rest of the day.

When we got to Valparaiso, my dad took over the driving. My cousin quickly got in the back seat leaving Greg in front. Greg was only comforted by the fact that he had an airbag and the rest of us did not. My Dad then put on his seat belt (which he never does at home...red flag for us!). My dad started weaving around those roads like Emo (Emerson Fitipaldi) on a road course. We then began our ascent up the mountain. Our first planned stop was to show the kids my Dad’s home. The kids were excited and scared as we began driving up. Roads were so narrow with cars parked and houses that at times Dad would need to ride up on the sidewalk to clear another car. We finally made it to the house and as the tourists we are began taking photos in between cars driving up the road and fast mind you! We should have knocked on the door to see if anyone was home but it just didn’t come to our minds. But for me these photos are priceless!

We got back in the car and headed for our next stop, Pablo Neruda’s home. It was absolutely beautiful. I was worried that the kids would be bored with the self directed audio tour and Libby would be a challenge but they all proved me wrong. It made me laugh seeing Libby all “I can do it Mom!”setting up her audio for each room. What a fascinating man! His home overlooked the port with beautiful large open windows to let the sea breeze in. We talked about him to the kids and told them if they ever had to pick a person for a project he would be a great guy. I loved how the kids were avidly listening to each detail and would follow along for word to the tour. #parentforthewin. After the tour, we stopped at the gift shop to get our token souvenir of a reusable bag. It’s our new thing to get from places we go as we use them all the time and they are a nice way to remember all the places you have traveled. It’s also super easy to pack and can double as a second personal item if needed in a pinch to not exceed your weight limit with your luggage...just sayin’.

We then headed for lunch along the coast. My dad took us to this restaurant he loved where you had a beautiful view of the ocean. When we arrived, there were no customers besides us and the place looked pretty fancy. They let us in, obviously....we’re the Bransons....we’re a pretty big deal! The view was spectacular and the kids were occupied by going outside and watching the waves as they rolled in. They also got a kick out of seeing seals bathing on the rocks.

Now that the kids saw the beach they were itching to go. There was forwarding of how different the Pacific water is compared to the Atlantic Ocean/Florida. I told them of the time I saw a dead penguin washed up on the shore just to let them know how cold it is. The waves were pretty rough with the red flag flying vigorously so we told them no swimming. We had packed their suits and were planning to change but since the water was so rough we thought we’ll just keep clothes on and get our feet wet...bad idea! We got to a nice beachy area and the kids could not get to the sand fast enough. They had so much fun playing at the edge!

But due to the high waves and the frigid ice water they kept running away from, the waves hit a lot higher than just the ankles. Poor Libby was running away and tripped in to fall completely in the water. I could not stop laughing (bad mom I know). Once I regained composure we headed to the car for all to change out of sandy clothes. Luckily my uncle took our gross laundry from the plane and had it washed so there were warm clean clothes ready for them! Uncle Raul for the win!!! The rental van was full of sand but everyone was dressed in dry clothes yet again. On to the next stop...

Due to the mountains and commuting, they had developed these box cars that ran on cog wheels and would transport people up and down the mountain instead of driving up and down. My dad took these to and from work all the time and he wanted the kids to experience it. We ended up with a Harley group in our boxcar and as you all know Greg he struck up a conversation....funny as always! The guys were pretty impressed to meet people from Milwaukee.

It was about 600 and everyone was beat. Couldn’t get over how bright it was for it being so late. The car ride home was quiet with the kids and Greg falling asleep...I’m not gonna lie I caught a little shut eye as well. Lunch was so filling and from all exploring it finally all caught up to me. We got home around 730 and the kids were dying to go in the pool for one last dip...sure why not now with that little power nap. After a good swim by the kids, we have begun wrapping up our evenings with room service...never a good tradition to start. We close out our nights hanging out in the bean bag room watching Netflix and indulging ourselves with room service. I could get used to this...sorry not sorry Greg😊. I think my favorite part of the day was when Andrew whispered as he fell asleep “I want to go back to Valparaiso Mom...that was a lot of fun!” Yup this trip is worth it!!!

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blkwidowsweb · 6 years

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Chicago Spotlight: A Conversation with Gene Hunt!

One of the true representatives of Chicago House Music, Gene is one of the top artists to emerge from the city, with a career spanning back to the initial wave in the early 1980s. As a teenager, he played at many of the key touchstones of the first generation of House Music spots, including the Warehouse, The Playground, and The Music Box; he's been best known in the last few years for a series of tracks made then with the legendary Ron Hardy. As a producer, Gene Hunt's first EP was Living in a Land, released on Chicago's Trax Records and co-produced and shepherded by Armando Gallop. From an early age, Gene imprinted his stamp on his musical style with an alteration between soulful, vocal recordings and harder, rough techy tracks. By 1999 he had more than enough releases on his belt for a "Greatest Hits" double LP (Gene Hunt Classics, Dust Traxx). In the years following, Gene Hunt released some of his best records on labels including Dope Wax, Track Mode, Got Soul and Unified, and delivered a tour de force in 2011 when noted Dutch label Rush Hour released Gene Hunt Presents Chicago Dance Tracks, a collection of some sixteen unreleased records from the likes of Larry Heard & Marshall Jefferson, Steve "Silk" Hurley, Farley Jackmaster Funk, Lil Louis and Ron Hardy. As a follow-up, in early 2012 Gene released an original two-track EP, May The Funk Be With You, also on Rush Hour, with a remix from Theo Parrish. (written by Terry Matthew)

I had a chance to speak with Gene Hunt about starting in the business at such a young age, what it was like to be mentored by legends, and what the future holds for him now. I hope you enjoy this insightful and in-depth interview full of house history.

FROM PRODIGY TO LEGEND...

Black Widow: When was the first time you discovered house music and what did you love about it? What drew you to it?

Gene Hunt: I was always around a bunch of older guys so I was exposed to it hanging with them at the Playground and The Music Box. I was about 12/13 years old and I asked them what this was, and they were like this is “House Music”. I knew about tracks and WBMX and the radio stuff but once I went to an actual house party, it was the way people dressed. It was a fashion statement. It was so different. They had the clothes and box haircuts and stuff. I thought it was amazing. The style, the way they danced, the different dance groups, it was a huge culture. That sparked a flame in me. I was in high school and a lot of the high school kids were in tune and everyone had their crew. You used to bring tapes to school and it would be recorded over and over and passed around to different schools. It was so different back then.

Black Widow: How So?

Gene Hunt: It would have been great to have generations expose house music and culture to the younger generations the way we experienced it. If house music was still in the schools the way it was for us back then, these younger generations would have gotten a grasp of it. I think house music would have been consistent here. For a while, there was a pause in the industry where it broke off for a while. This is the mecca, but it should have been more nurtured and not neglected. I think we would have a stronger commodity if we had nurtured it right.

“People knew we had something powerful, but they found a way to market it and transformed it into something else.”

Black Widow: You play everywhere in the city. What do you think when people start to stereotype the different sides of the cities when it comes to house music and house parties?

Gene Hunt: If you go north, it’s a different feel with the rave kids and rave parties and some of the hipsters. They always say the south side only likes disco but that’s not true. They love new stuff if they are exposed to it right.

“I tell people all the time I think a disco chick got together with a rave dude and procreated and gave birth to a new thing … It created a new scene.”

This is music created by the black culture on the south side. We had a sound like no other with drums, live bass & guitar, playing on synthesizers and programming a drum machine but now it’s these different subgenres…house, EDM, etc., but at the end of the day it all came from something and that’s US! You know what I’m sayin? It was formatted into these different parts that made it more commercial. It became a globalized business that people capitalized on, but the truth is this genre of music started in someone’s basement with some speakers and dancing. It grew and became so many different forms because of social media, technology, and just the natural advancement of things. It started to grow and organizations were formed like the Hot Mix Five and the Chosen Few. You got to see the progression, but you also saw a winding down.

Black Widow: When you say massive what do you mean?

Gene Hunt: The market is different now. It’s not as massive as it used to be here. The scene is changed. It’s only so many people and so many places to go. I remember playing Operation Push, The Athletic Club, The Riviera or AKA’s and each party would be packed. It’s not like that now. I can go to a party south but it’s another club right around the corner doing something so you split the market. Some are going there and some are going to the other place. The Bismarck used to have 500-600 people; the Athletic club would have about 1000 kids in there. We definitely still have a scene but we don’t have those numbers because it’s split up so much.

Black Widow: Is that because those kids who were listening to that music just got older or do you think it’s something else?

Gene Hunt: Sure, it’s a smaller group of individuals because we all got older. If we had passed the knowledge down more, I don’t know if it would be like this. The kids now listen to this suicide loving music and house is nothing like that. It’s a gentle flower compared to what’s popular now. I came in the game in 86, but the cats I hung with were in high school. They would give me mixtapes and I’d bring them to grade school and folks would ask me, what’s this? The loved it! I remember saying this is house music!!! We were spreading the word while in school and that got to other schools and so on. Farley used to come to the underground clubs listening to Frankie and Ron and go copy it and put it out on BMX. There were different ways of how we got the word out about this music. That’s how we kept it alive and growing. Even record shopping, we’d take our cassette to the record store and ask “what’s this right here” and they’d point you to the record at the shop. Now all you gotta do go online and click! Back then you really had to do your research. You couldn’t just go online and shop all day long from the comfort of your own home on a computer. It didn’t work that way back then. That’s the new record shopping.

To me, everyone should love house music in Chicago because this is where it comes from just like stepping music. You have to realize Chicago didn’t just create music, we’ve created cultures! We created our own style and music. Nowadays, the city is closing clubs left and right, we gotta support our cause and what we are doing to keep it alive.

Black Widow: True, but it’s not us shutting those clubs down.

Gene Hunt: Absolutely! It’s not the house community shutting these clubs down. We want to hear some music, enjoy some cocktails and jam. House people aren’t like that, you have your exceptions and lines get crossed sometimes, but mostly, we just want to party. The elements and fabrics of what we created are still here it’s just not as massive. We can’t stay out all night long going to marathons because we got kids and jobs. [LAUGHTER] The average age now is 35+ so that after work thing sounds good to some. You can come out, get your groove on, have a couple of cocktails and still get up in time to get the kids to school, then hit a spot on the weekend. Hell, we couldn’t have marathons here in the city now if we wanted to. We had more options for young people back then to party and kick it.

Black Widow: I can admit I wasn’t around at the time of these massive parties. The scene as it is now is the only scene I know. It’s often debated that house music shouldn’t be played in small clubs, lounges, etc., do you think there is a relationship between the music and where it’s played? Does it change the experience if you are in a small club or lounge vs a bigger venue?

Gene Hunt: No, it doesn’t change the experience. It’s still good music and people dancing and grooving to it. We had massive parties back then because we had the people and the venue. Now we still have dope parties, it’s just more controlled and contains limits. People aren’t staying up like we used to. We used to party until noon the next day. We’re grown now. [Laughter] We have responsibilities. This scene in Chicago is still very much alive. It just doesn’t have the numbers like we used to because we haven’t brought in new generations. That’s what I mean when I say we must keep the culture alive, especially in our community. What happens next? Are their new house heads being cultivated? I’m speaking of our culture specifically. Other races especially overseas are thirsty for information. They are on social media, YouTube and things like that learning and seeing what this really is. I see it when I travel. They love Chicago House music and our sound and what we created. They crave it and I get so much love overseas. Technology allows generations to see how things were vs how things are and keep that spirit and culture alive.

Black Widow: What does it mean to you to be an artist that represents Chicago around the world?

Gene Hunt: That’s the beauty of being an artist in this genre. To come from the mecca of house music and get an opportunity to travel and see how our music has been cultivated and interpreted through the world. People want to know how we create music and how we cultivated this culture. Chicago has a distinctive sound and people want that…STILL. It’s the way we record music, it’s in the history books; our drum programming, deep baselines and such. We would play abstract tracks with disco. When you evaluate it, we still have a pulse. We are consistent in putting out dope music. When I think about it, WOW! It’s so funny, I was a kid doing parties in high school in 1986, and negotiating contracts…I’ve been in the game for a minute…

Black Widow: Yeah, I remember Terry posting a contract you guys had for Whitney Young back in the day on Facebook.

Gene Hunt: [LAUGHTER] Yeah, I’m a packrat so I found that and sent it to him. I was 16/17 negotiating contracts. Terry was my buddy. I was always around older cats like Ron (Hardy), Frankie (Knuckles), Robert Owens, Fingers Inc., so when I met Terry (Hunter), I was happy because I wanted to be around some cats my age too! [Laughter]. I was always the baby and wanted to hang around someone I could relate to. One night I was playing at La Mirage and he introduced himself and said he was a fan of my work. I told him to stay up here and kick it with me. We became friends. Whenever someone hired me, he was my right-hand man. I remember he would drive my car because I was scared to get on the expressway. It was Terry who got me over that fear. He’d drive my truck and tell me, come on man…you about to learn how to do this! [Laughter] I’m telling you, I’d take the side streets everywhere! Terry never had problems doing stuff like that. I’ll never forget, one time, I was scared to get my money for a job I did. It was at “The Fort” and that was with the El Rukins gang and Jeff Ford. I played a party there. I had to get paid but I was scared to go in and get my money. Terry was like “man, whatcha scared for? I’ll get yo money… I’ll be right back! [LAUGHTER] Terry said they were asking where I was, but I wasn’t going in there! [Laughter] Terry had no fear and got my money! [Laughter] I gave him some of it too! [Laughter] We became good friends and when I had a gig, I’d put him on the party with me.

Black Widow: I can see Terry doing all of that! [LAUGHTER]

Gene Hunt: He wasn’t scared to do shit! He was my dude! He would carry my records in the clubs; you know we were doing what we had to do to get on. That’s why I’m so proud of him. He’s on that extraordinary level and he’s always been level-headed and a good guy but you know...he put in that work. Now that I’m starting to get my feet wet with this label, it’s cool that he can extend his to me. That’s the budding relationship that’s about to take place and it’s gonna be amazing. With me starting my label and being under the direction of T’s box, it’s gonna give me a good opportunity to see how it’s run efficiently instead of begging someone to put my stuff out there. I got my own label and because I have a friend who’s established and willing to show me the ropes, I’m not gonna must go thru asking anyone and deal with them saying, “they don’t like this or that”. He’s showing me how to do it and how to do it the right way! I’m gonna put records out and folks gonna be hyped because it’s from one power source to the next. These types of things create a power structure up amongst professionals and legends and it continues the tradition of us putting out quality music. Its history and it sparks the flame of what Chicago needs. It’s exciting! It’s funny how those tables turned. I took time off and Terry kept at it and soared!

Black Widow: Why did you take time off?

Gene Hunt: After Ron Hardy passed, Frankie Knuckles moved to NYC and Lil Louis got the French Kiss deal, I moved to LA and was doing hip-hop and production. I was working with Eazy and Dre, Snoop Dogg and Bone Thugs in Harmony. Terry stuck with it and by the time I came back to Chicago, Terry was a super commodity and doing his thing. It’s Amazing!

Black Widow: So what made you come back to Chicago and to house music?

Gene Hunt: It was a couple of things. My grandfather was dying and I had some personal stuff I needed to deal with my kids. My grandfather’s dying wish was for me to get back into DJ'ing again. I knocked the dust off and came out of my self-imposed retirement. It’s so interesting now because I’m getting ready to really jump into the production thing and start my label and Terry is taking me up under his wing the way I did with him back in the day and we are going to build something special.

Black Widow: That’s so dope. It really contradicts a lot of stuff you hear online and such about collaboration and mentorship in this scene. I love it.

Gene Hunt: Yeah, it’s a lot of cats that get online and talk about how they haven’t been given a chance to spin and stuff like that, but you don’t really consider all the work we put in for decades. It was blood, sweat, and tears. We built these names over decades; Mike, Terry, Andre, etc. It’s crazy; you got folks crying on Facebook about not getting a chance. It’s a lot of talent but the reality is we don’t have enough people to accommodate for every DJ to play or spin. In some respects, you let weeds come in and they are trying to kill the flower that is house music. The market is oversaturated so it’s not enough to be a good DJ, you must be versatile. When I see people feeding the same toxic bullshit it’s annoying.

“I can do a rave party, I can play on the southside, I can play with the hipsters, and I can do an after-hours spot. It doesn’t’ matter. Some people can’t do that. They can’t go north and south. I’ve trained my skills to adapt to different environments. It keeps me challenged. I must find ways to evolve. “

Black Widow: It’s a bigger picture don’t you think?

Gene Hunt: Hell yeah! You gotta realize people are capitalizing off a sound made by us. All these spots that we have parties at, they are giving folks 15% of the bar but somebody else is making the money. You are making someone else rich. We got to build capital to recreate and rebuild. We need to cultivate and nurture our own culture.

Black Widow: That came up in my interview with Craig Loftis, the need to own our own spots that embodied what it used to be and where we can control the environment. He mentioned it was a huge reason why he wanted to start Club EXP.

Gene Hunt: Right! That’s the shit that feels like home. You got to build a place called home. The Power Plant, The Music Box…all these places, I’m telling you, it brought us all together. You had the bougie kids with the project kids, the gays with straight people, white people and black people; it was all races, ethnicities, and backgrounds, it didn’t matter. Nothing was going down in those spots; we just wanted to hear some music and dance. Relationships were formed, friendships were made and it was a vibe.

Black Widow: It was a community….a real community.

Gene Hunt: Yes, exactly. You gotta create a home base within a home because that’s what gives people comfort. It all goes back to cultivating this scene and nurturing what we created. Chicago doesn’t have a 24-hour radio station where you can hear house music all day; we don’t have a vessel or even venues. We are so hooked on the bars and lounges and other people’s spaces, no one has stepped up to create a space of our own. Everyone wants a statue but not a platform. Where can you go in the city that’s not a lounge, small club or a bar to hear some house music? If I’m older and just want to hear stepping music or something after work, I don’t want to share a spot with house music. We need these locations, so we can have that experience. We are lacking when it comes to that. Sure, we have a few spots that we rent out and such, but where can you pull out a membership card like Craig’s spot and really get that experience?

Black Widow: Why do you think the Chicago House scene diminished so much from its peak in the 80s?

Gene Hunt: If we could all take a page out of Craig Loftis and get about 2 or 3 more spots that we own and control, that would be perfect. I want to do that once I solidify my license deal with my headphones. We need to have more control of our stuff instead of grabbing others to capitalize on our hard work. Even with Craig’s spot, we should be supporting it 100% and he should make sure he’s supporting the community with his spot so then he can run his business without any outside issues. He can’t worry about if the cat up the street is gonna call the police on his spot because he doesn’t have anyone in his club and stuff like that. You can’t worry about jealous people. You gotta make sure the community is straight and invest in the community, link up with the alderman and such. We are getting better but it’s stagnant in some areas, especially when it comes to unity.

Black Widow: When you say unity, what do you mean specifically?

Gene Hunt: You know the DJ drama and even the promoters. Take now, for instance, we have parties coming up for the holidays but everyone is trying to cancel each other out with their events but the reality is you are splitting up the crowd to a certain degree. If everyone takes a week out the month, we would have a good thing going but instead, everyone wants to cut one another’s throats and part these few hundred house heads into different segments. If we could come together, we could create some really dope events that are huge! It’s like the 2 for $1 chips in the gas station. Everyone has their hand in a little bag of chips, but every hand can’t fit in one bag. Someone is gonna prosper, someone is gonna suffer…

Black Widow: And someone is gonna be mad…

Gene Hunt: That’s it! It’s always gonna be an issue. Lack of venues, oversaturation of the market etc., folks are always gonna be mad. Even with the DJs, people are always saying, “They always hiring him… They always hiring Terry. They always hire Gene…They always hiring Alicia…Mike, etc. Well, that’s what happening. It’s nothing I can do about that but there are people bringing it on a powerful and consistent level. It is what it is…all you can do is step your game up and watch your movements in public and online. It’s all important.

Black Widow: That’s very true, as a patron and living in a city with so much talent, we have so many choices. Skill, personality, how you handle yourself….

Gene Hunt: D… it all matters! It’s so important and I don’t think people really understand how important it is. It all plays a major factor with fans!

Black Widow: I stick with people who are consistent, professional, those who act like they care about their brands, play dope music and have events that make me feel good! I know so many other house music lovers feel the same!

Gene: That’s right! That’s right! I do my job, punctually and professionally. I’m approachable and laid back, but I’m passionate about the direction of this scene. What we need to do to keep this culture moving forward. What you are doing is a prime example of what is needed now. This website is essential because people need to know how much this music and this culture mean to us.

Black Widow: I appreciate that so much! That was my intention from the beginning. All The stuff that happened in the 80s, I wasn’t a part of and didn’t get to experience it. I always love seeing old photos and videos of the parties from back then but it isn’t easy finding it. I think about my own kids and wonder if they wanted to know about the Gene Hunt’s, Terry Hunter’s, Mike Dunn’s…the singers, artists, or our parties, where would they go to find information? Videos? Photos? If we don’t document our history, our culture, we allow someone else to tell our story and it’s not always accurate. It needs to be told by US. That means a lot to me.

Gene Hunt: Exactly! And the kids now don’t realize how privileged they are. They have so much. Back in the day, we didn’t have CDJ’s and CD players because that stuff wasn’t even invented yet. We would carry crates of records. We had a reel to reel with a pitch control and tape deck with pitch control. That’s how we would play our exclusives. These kids have iPads, social media, and the internet. We kept the music going and the culture moving forward on a grassroots level. It was word of mouth, hanging posters on light poles at night, and passing out flyers in high school. Now you just create events on social media and get everyone to share it! What’s beautiful about the technology is that it allows you to do your research and learn about the history and find out what this music consists of. We didn’t have that back then. If I want to know about Black Widow, I can type your name in and see a performance, or find your website from anywhere in the world. Your visibility is increased because of the advancements in technology. I use it to learn and as a networking tool.

Black Widow: You literally were a teenager when you started your career and were mentored by legends like Frankie Knuckles and Ron Hardy. What were some of the greatest lessons they taught you?

Gene: I remember when I met Ron for the first time. He came up to me and said, “What are you doing here?” [Laughter] I told him I was getting ready to play and he was like, “Oh really?” [Laughter] He was sarcastic at first, but he told me that he had heard some things about me and I was like, OH WOW!

“It was Ron Hardy about to watch me play! I was young and intimidated. I started to play, and he came up behind me and said, “Hmm...I see I just made a new friend today!” I was like OHHHH YEAH!!! I’m telling you it was like when Magic Johnson talked to Dr. J”

I started hanging with him and then I met Frankie. Frankie would give me music and tell me to play stuff when I was out and tell me not to give it to anyone. They took me under their wing because I was so young, but I was also hungry and ambitious. Once I was exposed to it, I knew this was what I wanted to do. I was consistent and always practicing, working on drum machines and stuff. I didn’t have my own equipment at the time. I would put stuff on layaway and start buying equipment and records once I started doing parties. Craig Loftis sold me my 1st set of turntables, some techniques and Frankie gave me the Bozak. I remember Craig told me he wanted me to play his birthday party at Sauers. I’m like this is Craig Loftis! He played with Frankie!!! I’m telling you I was amazed! I’m like 14/15 and I’m on the flyer with these cats!!! That’s when I first met Andre Hatchet.

I’m telling you, I was aggressive. Every time I saw the flyers with the phone numbers, I’d call and bug the hell out of them! Let me open! Let me do this...let me do that…whatever it took because I knew this was what I wanted to do. I remember telling my mom one day I wanted to quit, and she couldn’t’ understand why because I was making some moves. I was young and wanted it to happen all at once. I wanted it to happen fast. I didn’t understand it was a process.

Black Widow: You were paying your dues…

Gene Hunt: Yeah…Exactly! I would go to other folk’s houses to practice because I didn’t have my own equipment. A buddy of mine had turntables, and his family owned a video store. I would go up there work in the store then get to use the turntables to practice my skills and blends. I stuck with it. Ron was really helping me with my skills too back then…

Black Widow: How So?

Gene Hunt: He was showing me how to edit and how to play certain tracks. He would tell me to play certain tracks at gigs and I would be saying, but the crowd ain’t dancing or the crowd is leaving! He’d say, don’t worry about that, play it! Then he’d tell me to play it again! He’d tell me not to pull the record off so quickly. He was right, I’d play it again and some folks would come back dancing, then some more! He taught me how to break records and make stuff hot, not just playing the latest and hottest stuff. I realized the power I had to teach music on the dancefloor. He taught me how to take things people weren’t familiar with and integrate it onto the dancefloors. Skill level, accuracy, timing…Ron taught me a lot. I remember we were at La Mirage once and he said he wasn’t feeling well and told me to play. I freaked out. I was like RON I don’t know your records! I was shook but it was a test. He was trying to teach me to always be ready! I had to always be on point because you never knew when you were going to be needed. I remember the record went off on me and I was embarrassed, and they teased me about it for a little while. I’ll tell you this though, the next time I was called to play, I was ready.

Ron was hard on me and it was more psychological. I asked him once why he was so hard on me he said, I wasn’t hard on you, I was trying to make a better me. Its something about you that’s different and I want to give you what I got because I’m not going to be here much longer. I want to teach you as much as I can. That always stuck with me. There were times when he would ask me to make him a tape and I felt pressured. Why does Ron Hardy want me to make him a tape? Next time he was at COD’s, he was playing the records from the tape in his set! [Laughter] He said, I told you liked the tape!

When he heard me on the radio on WBMX, he would call me and say I’m proud of you boy, you are sounding good! He became a fan. He was seeing all the things he wasn’t in me. I remember I had a party at Sauer’s and Ron had bought me the old school brick phones. He called me and told me to come to AKA’s when I was done. I got there and started to play, and he got up and was dancing in the corner getting his life by a speaker!

Black Widow: Wow! What a memory to have!

Gene Hunt: He was like a big brother. He’d take me to school and pick me up from school. He’d be at the house. My grandma would cook for him; he loved his two liters of Coca-Cola! He would stay at the house and work on music. We’d do editing and work on tracks. It was a big brother/little brother relationship. It was a remarkable and incredible friendship. The relationship I had with Ronnie and Frankie… they gave me the missing pieces that made Gene Hunt. Not to be like them but to become a better me. In hindsight, I realize they were training me. Ron would have exercises for me to do and Frankie would too but it all makes sense because they were sculpting me and making me into this prodigy. They would give me criticism and I knew it was making me better; they gave me advice about timing, record selection, and execution. It affects how I spin now…I can scan the room and knows what needs to be played and how it should be played. They taught me that. They taught me timing and accuracy.

Black Widow: How would you describe your DJ Style?

Gene Hunt: I use my will as my force, my soul and spirit guide me on what I’m going to play. It’s never programmed. It flows naturally. It’s a blank canvas and I create from that canvas as I go. If I were to program anything, its gonna feel unnatural. When I play, it’s always spontaneous and we get to share that moment together. That’s been my thing my entire career. I love being unpredictable. I’m my worst enemy, I have to challenge myself. If I don’t know what I’m gonna do, they don’t know what I’m gonna do.

" When people come up to me and say, "Gene I know you gonna beat it tonight!" All I say is I'll do my best. That's it. I try to stay humble because staying humble brings clarity and makes you strong. I’m not standoffish, I’m very open, laid back and I have a helluva personality! " [laughter]

Gene Hunt: I’m always able to give people advice or inspiration because I was taught. My job is to pass on what I’ve learned to those who want to part of this. My youngest daughter will be 6 tomorrow and says she wants to be a chef and a DJ, so sometimes she’ll come to the picnics with me and I’ll let her touch the CDJs and she’ll bust a move on em! She isn’t scared. [Laughter] My other kids are grown and love music too, but they don’t want to DJ. [Laughter]

Black Widow: How did you balance raising your kids with your career?

Gene Hunt: I got custody of my older kids when they were young. I was in LA about to sign a deal with Death row records (thank god, I didn’t) but I came home, got custody of them and promised my granddad on his deathbed, I’d get back into DJ'ing again. With my youngest, I do field trips and take her to school. I’m really into my kids. I love what I do but I’m a pop and a grandpop, that’s my thing! I raised my older kids and they’ve stayed out of trouble; no jail, no drugs, everyone is good, and I did that by myself until I met my youngest daughter’s mother. Sometimes it was a sacrifice but I family is something I hold dearly.

Black widow: So let’s talk about your headphone line. What was the motivation to start designing headphones?

Gene Hunt: I would always see one-sided headphones and thought they were cool. My friend Vaughn Woods would take old headphones and make them. I started doing my research and figuring it all out. I had to learn how to wiring and figure out how to make the speakers work and paint and design. I’m self-taught. I would go to Radio Shack and buy switches, gizmos, gadgets and soldering gun (I can’t tell you how many times I’ve burnt my fingers in the beginning). I figured out how to make them and started using them. People would see me using them and ask me where I got them. I’d tell them I made them and they would ask me to make them one. That’s when it became a business. I just started getting creative with it. I was using bike handles, I was making chrome ones, see-thru ones, superhero ones…I was learning how to customize them. That’s how I became a designer, but it took me a nice amount of time to make it look professional. Now I will take about 3 days to make 2-3 lollipops. I just sit in my workshop and put on my favorite shows and get to work. I’ve messed up some nice clothes working on these headphones so now I have a workshop outfit tho! [Laughter] I’ve done Dolomite headphones, blinged out, pimped out style lollipops. I love the challenge of creating! I’ll sketch it out in my mind and customize stuff. I’m glad I’m able to solidify a design people love. I have customers all over the world. Right now, I have a couple of companies that are showing interest in taking my product and mass producing it. I took them with me to Coachella when I was playing with Roy Davis at the Heineken stage.

Black Widow: Oh, I didn't know you did Coachella?

Gene Hunt: Oh yeah, I had a 3-year contract with them. They saw photos of me DJ'ing and in the photos, I’d always be drinking a Heineken. One day they hit me up and asked me if I wanted to play Coachella on their stage. I was like HELL YEAH!!!! [LAUGHTER] it was a good feeling. That led to a gig with Absolute Vodka who was affiliated with them. They saw me at the Heineken stage and asked me to the Absolute party. So I was booked the entire Coachella festival. That felt good! I was able to integrate and do things on a larger scale. When I had the headphones at Coachella, they were buying all of them. Guys gave me old broke ones and were asking me to hook them up with my joints.

Black Widow: What does 2018 have in store for Gene Hunt?

Gene Hunt: The website, finishing the album, working with T’s Box and getting my label, Jack in The Box Records off the ground and taking my headphone business to the next level.

“I want to continue to be an inspiration in this scene. To aid and assist as many as I can from young to old. I want to be an inspirational voice. I’m thankful to be in this position and to have the longevity.”

The website will have a store with shirts, lollipops, mixes, some parts of my catalog and you can book me through the website as well. It’s important to have your social media stuff on point. A lot of folks will hire you based on how the package looks. When it all looks so fresh and professional you can get gigs from that! The entire package has to be in order! Folks have to remember that. Your website, social media…all of that. It’s can change the scope of your career.

Black Widow: What are some things you still want to learn and accomplish?

Gene Hunt: I’m learning to be more aggressive and more confident with the material I’m making. When I play it, it makes me feel more at ease. Once I make this move with Terry and see the results of what I did and the anticipation of people embracing it, I think it’s gonna take me through those emotions. It’s just…WOW…it’s been a minute and the stuff I plan to put out is gonna shake it up a bit! It’s a different side of myself that people will get to see. I want to learn and have Terry school me on the record business and the administrative stuff. I get a chance to have that one on one time and learn how a company is run the right way! That’s a blessing. 2018 is about making dreams come true and making my dreams come true! To be a nurturer, teacher, and an inspiration. I just want to continue my journey, staying blessed, being humble and working hard…it’s an exciting time in my life.

Black Widow: As an artist who has traveled the world, what does it mean to come home again and play?

Gene Hunt: There’s no place like home. The feeling of exercising my skill at my home base is unmatched. It gives me room to be more creative and try new stuff out. It also allows me to do what I love to do with music but still have time to do be “Pop and Grandpop”. Chicago is my sanctuary and I can showcase my skills while still getting paid to do what I love. There’s no place like home.

Black Widow: That’s a great place to end the interview! Thanks so much for speaking with me!

Gene Hunt: Anytime, it was my pleasure!

You can catch Gene Hunt this weekend in Chicago. Friday at the Debauchery Ball and Saturday at “Tis the Season to Be House” party and on NYE getaway in Rosemont, IL. Click Here for Details!

You can also find Gene Hunt at the following:

Facebook: Gene Hunt Chicago

Instagram: @genehunt7691

Twitter: @mrgenehunt

Website: www.mrgenehunt.com (coming soon)

Sound cloud: Gene Hunt

Mix cloud: https://www.mixcloud.com/gene-hunt/

As Always, See you on a Dance Floor!

Black Widow

#blkwidowsweb #black widows web #chicago spotlight #legends #djs #chicago djs #gene hunt

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elizabethleslie7654 · 7 years

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Greece is the Model for Globalist Plunder

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In Greece, globalism has led to social and economic problems which have fueled the rise of ethnic nationalism.The rest of the West is soon to follow.

by Ash Brighton

While things are moving quickly in the United States, I’m keeping an eye on Greece. As someone who pays closer attention than Nigel Normie to what’s happening in the world, you probably recall the economic turmoil in Greece and the protests surrounding it a few years ago. Since then the media hasn’t paid much attention to what’s happening there. Greece is important to our movement for two reasons: it’s ahead of Western political trends, and its current economic woes reveal the agenda and mechanisms of the globalist elite.

First, let’s have a crash course on the relevant portions of recent Greek history. Greece came out of a military dictatorship in the early 1970s, and the government re-formed as a parliamentary democracy. While there has always been a multiparty system in place, for decades there were two major parties swapping power: PASOK, a soft-socialist party and New Democracy, analogous in economic policy to the Democrat Party of the United States in the 90s and early 2000s.

The socialist years saw massive growth in the public sector. Public sector workers enjoyed lavish benefits such as twice-yearly bonuses, guaranteed annual raises, and pensions that, in some cases, could be inherited. This led to a social dynamic of most citizens aspiring to work in government and thus share in the abundance and “easy life,” while those remaining in the private sector found it incredibly difficult to navigate the bloated, stubborn bureaucracy to get basic things accomplished. The most ambitious and talented Greeks tended to emigrate to other Western nations, work in professional fields, and then return to Greece to spend their middle-age and elderly years as pensioners with their families. Greece’s tourism-based economy made such a strategy viable for many decades, and it likely could have been sustained were it not for the massive make-work government jobs system also in place.

Meanwhile, the 80s saw the return of the doctrinal Communist Party, “KKE,” and the overt nationalist party “Golden Dawn.” KKE made a splash in 1989 when it took 13% of the vote and joined the coalition government. Since then it has been relegated to an opposition party. There were several other parties and sub-parties which rose and fell during that time. However, the public sector continued to grow, along with its massive financial obligations. This inertia carries to the present day, where hundreds of thousands of citizens who have built their lives around this public largesse continue to vote for the party which promises continuation of the benefits. This is a natural and predictable reaction, even if it’s ultimately based on an irrational notion in the face of financial reality.

Greece’s debt as a percentage of GDP crossed the 100% threshold in the early 90s, where it remained for about a decade before taking off again in the mid-2000s. In 2001, Greece joined the Eurozone, only to reveal a few years later that they had fudged their financial figures in order to enter the currency bloc. In the global recession of 2008, unemployment reached a historical low of around 5% before beginning a steady climb up to 25%. During this span, the debt-to-GDP ratio took a similar trajectory, leading to imposition of austerity measures by the European Union at the behest of Greece’s creditors.

A basic overview of Greece’s debt vs. GDP.

The austerity measures, which started in 2010, were initially mild, common-sense reforms. Salary increases for public workers were frozen and there were very limited cuts to a few other salaries. Nonessential work travel was halted and bonuses received 10% cuts. Protests started popping up immediately, as unemployment and other consequences of harsh economic conditions due to the global recession became widespread.

Unemployment numbers before and during the crisis.

In 2012, a new party named “Syriza,” best described as a radical-left party formed from a previously existing multi-party coalition, shot into power. A major part of its platform was reversal of the recently-imposed austerity measures, along with budgetary reforms to control the debt crisis. In 2015, Syriza took a majority of the votes and seats in parliament, as well as the office of the Prime Minister. Its logo features flags of three colors: green, purple, and red. The red stands for Marxist economics, the green represents environmental causes, and the purple is a nod to global social movements. The rise of Syriza was a major disruption to the Greek political dynamic, taking PASOK down to 4th place, halting the creeping resurgence of KKE, and leaving New Democracy and Golden Dawn as the other top 3 parties in the country by vote tally.

The leader of Syriza and current Prime Minister of Greece, Alexis Tsipras, is atypical for Greek leader. On top of being a lifelong Communist, he’s also an Atheist who broke Greek tradition by not baptizing his children or taking a religious oath of office in a country that has Orthodox Christianity as its official religion.

Subsequent austerity measures, however, became more severe and far-reaching. The Value-Added Tax (VAT) steadily rose from 4% to 24%. Additional taxes were levied on gasoline, vices like liquor and cigarettes, and phone and internet service. The income tax was increased, the minimum wage was decreased, and pension cuts took effect. A “temporary” property tax was imposed, and later doubled. As the measures grew more severe and living conditions of everyday Greeks were impacted, more people took to the streets. These were the “protests against austerity” which dominated the headlines. It’s worth mentioning that farmers, who got media attention for their creative protest actions, were hit especially hard. The property tax and VAT were a double-whammy, but they also had huge increases in taxes on very short notice, and had to pay the taxes in advance. Agriculture is a large part of the Greek production economy. These measures put many small farmers in a perilous situation.

In July 2015 Greece held a referendum on whether to accept more austerity. The Greek people voted “No” with the blessing of the ruling Syriza coalition. However, in a colossal political faux pas, this referendum was ultimately rebuffed by the members of the Greek Parliament, and more austerity packages were passed. The austerity bills culminated in the thirteenth package, a punishing set of measures that figuratively strip-mined the country of its assets. There are thousands of pages of legislation for this package, and I haven’t been able to find an acceptable translation, but Golden Dawn frontman Ilias Kasidiaris provided a good summary on the floor of the Greek Parliament:

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By writing in special privileges and exemptions for members of parliament, foreign interests were able to pick at the scraps of Greece. Nothing was done to halt the exodus of the next generation of citizens or influence rock-bottom birth rates upward, leading to a present demographic calamity whose effects match or exceed that of a major war.

So that’s how Greece got to where it is today, and the situation isn’t any better than it was at the onset of the crisis. Greece is still carrying an unsustainable debt load that’s hardly eased. More bailouts are forthcoming, and now Greece must navigate this financial duress without the benefit of all its sold-off assets and a good portion of its talented youth, while contending with a crippling debt-payment regimen. Those youth who remain are facing unemployment numbers in the 30-40% range for their age groups. That same source shows that part-time employment has greatly increased, bringing unemployment numbers to the low-20% range, disguising a grim employment situation that is otherwise presented as a “turnaround.”

Not among those suffering in the wake of the economic crisis were the migrants, who lived in relative comfort. In 2016 alone, Greece claimed to have spent over 600 million euros on handling migrants. The actual figure is likely much higher. The migrants lived in relative comfort, while Greeks were putting their own children into orphanages in order to feed them, not getting paid for over six months, and abandoning their properties because of their inability to pay newly-imposed taxes.

The streets of downtown Athens are covered in Communist and Antifa graffiti (take a street view tour and see for yourself). The huge black market which has sprung up in response to the massive tax increases is dominated by foreign ethnic gangs each controlling its own sector. The few well-connected members of the Greek elite, who can make end-runs around the bureaucracy via bribery and personal favors, will manage fine from their many properties in the tourism economy. The members of the working and former middle class, not so much. In essence, the Greek people have been dispossessed and stripped of any power to resolve their financial situation via the sacrosanct democratic process. The most-talented of their youth can easily seek opportunities elsewhere in the EU or in other Western nations. Their elected parties have completely betrayed their promises and done nothing to alleviate the suffering or provide a feasible way out of the crisis. Greece’s means of production have been seized, not by the Greek state but by foreign governments and thousands of anonymous shareholders of international corporations.

Over a million migrants have passed through Greece on their way to Northern Europe, but tens of thousands have remained in addition to the hundreds of thousands of migrants from Albania, Turkey and other countries who were already residing in Greece decades prior to the migrant waves of 2015. These new migrant residents will provide an additional financial burden to a nation which already is staring into a financial abyss. The children of those migrants are now being introduced into the Greek public school system, which has been a source of national pride for generations. These schools will of course have to lower their high standards to accommodate these students, as has been seen countless times in American schools.

In short, everything about Greek life and Greece itself has changed in less than a decade. A generation from now, if things are left to the democratic process, Greece will be a land of alienated, impoverished people. Those who work will do so to fulfill Greece’s new raison d’etre: making massive interest payments to the nation’s various creditors.

But the tragedy currently playing out in Greece is merely the first step in a larger plan. Ill-advised, frivolous government spending led to an untenable debt situation, which has been leveraged in tandem with manipulation of the political process to rapidly plunder a country and leave its people with no hope for the future and no recourse against the demands of the globalist machine. Understand this, and what happens to other European countries in the coming years will be much easier to follow. Portugal, Spain, and Italy are on similar trajectories. It’s only a matter of time before the formula is applied to them as well. France and Sweden are close behind.

That’s not to say there’s no hope for Greece. For Greece to regain its sovereignty, it will likely require bold action by Greek patriots working on many fronts both inside and outside of the democratic process. Golden Dawn hopes to gain on Syriza’s flagging momentum, but they will have to contend with a hostile media, pensioners who desperately want to maintain the status quo, and the remaining establishment party, New Democracy. Every once in a while, check in on Golden Dawn. There’s a lot to learn from their long, hard road to being one of the most powerful nationalist parties in Europe. Their struggle is ultimately ours.

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