#Origin Phone Number Australia

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Roxette - The Look 1989

"The Look" is a song by pop duo Roxette; Sweden's second-best-selling music act after ABBA. It was released in early 1989 as the fourth single from their second studio album, Look Sharp! (1988). The album was an immediate commercial success in their home country, spending seven weeks at number one on the Swedish Albums Chart. "The Look" was written by Per Gessle as an exercise while learning how to operate the Ensoniq ESQ-1 synthesizer he had recently purchased, using a repeated A–G–D bass line as the song's core. The track's sixteenth-note rhythm was inspired by the work of ZZ Top. The original title was "He's Got the Look", with the lyrics using male pronouns. Gessle said this was done because he initially wanted Marie Fredriksson to sing the track. Both he and EMI Sweden had chosen to highlight Fredriksson as Roxette's lead vocalist. However, when recording the demo, Gessle realised the song "didn't fit her style that well, so I had a go and it sounded OK."

The singles from Look Sharp! at the time were only released in Sweden, Germany and France. However, an American exchange student from Minnesota named Dean Cushman returned from Sweden and gave his copy of the album to his local Top 40 radio station, KDWB-FM in Minneapolis. The station's program director Brian Phillips initially ignored Cushman's request to play a song from the album, leaving the CD unplayed in his office for several weeks. Phillips eventually listened to it after learning Cushman had come to the office requesting the return of his CD. Immediately impressed by the album's opening track, "The Look" was played by the station for the first time on US radio less than an hour later, and the response from listeners was overwhelmingly positive; the station immediately began receiving phone calls to replay the track.

KDWB began distributing the track to their sister radio operations, sending 500 copies to other stations throughout the United States. EMI America promptly signed the duo to a recording contract as a result of the airplay. The label had previously rejected Roxette as "unsuitable for the American market". The song had already entered the top fifty of the Billboard Hot 100 before official promotion began, peaking at number one on the chart eight weeks later. This made "The Look" the third number one single by a Swedish act on the Billboard Hot 100, following Blue Swede's "Hooked on a Feeling" (poll #152) in 1974 and ABBA's "Dancing Queen" in 1976.

The track went on to top the charts in 25 countries. It spent three weeks atop the New Zealand Singles Chart, and six weeks at number one in Australia, where it was certified platinum for sales in excess of 70,000 copies. It also topped the charts throughout Scandinavia. The song spent five weeks at number one in West Germany, and an additional five weeks at number two. It was a massive success in Spain and Switzerland, spending eight weeks at number one in both countries. It reached number seven on the UK Singles Chart.

"The Look" received a total of 80,5% yes votes!

[number1jeonginstan]

Hiyaaa! Hope you’re doing well:) i was wondering if you could be open to writing a virgin!chan oneshot where youre his best friend who he’s crushing on and he wants to lose his virginity to you? Reader could be a dom so he’s turned on by that lol but he’s also a sensitive subby boy. - anon 🦋

A/N: This is actually the first time I’ve written a sub!reader, so I hope it’s good. Thank you so much for sending in a request and I really hope you liked it, I really enjoyed writing it because it was kinda cute in the beginning, also something about the game night Chan agenda is really my favorite for some reason! Also, welcome to the anon list 🦋

WC: 2.1k (oops!)

Minors don't interact, 18+

Pairing: idol!Chan x idol!(afab)Reader

Warnings: loss of virginity (chan), but not, protected sex (for the first time ever!?!?), blow jobs, aftercare is a must!, subby!Chan

You walked into the dorms for your and Chan’s weekly game night. It was a tradition the two of you made when you two became friends after you first debuted. Your friendship was quite spontaneous, you were walking around the music core backrooms, trying to find your manager and you ran into Chan. You both bonded over your love for anime since he saw that you had a Rukia phone case at the time. 

He eventually helped you find your manager, offered you his phone number, and told you to text him if you ever had any questions. You happily took it, not thinking much of it. The first time you texted him was three days after they won an award for their new song.

Chan was taken aback when he first got your text. He thought you were so sweet, offering to take you out to get ice cream to celebrate their win, and you happily obliged. From then on, the two of you have been stuck together like glue, or as much as you can be with your jobs. 

One thing you guys made a tradition of was doing a game night. Sometimes it would be with the other members, sometimes it would be just the two of you, it all depended. “Hey, you are finally here!” he beamed, running over and giving you a tight hug. 

“I’m only a minute late, you miss me that much?” you giggled. You both went to his room, the other members were back home for vacation, and since Chan’s family was back in Australia, and yours was back in America, you guys couldn’t visit them.

“So, what are we playing tonight?” you asked, sitting on the floor of his room. You always loved Chan’s room, the aesthetics were so nice, not to mention his bed was comfortable. Sometimes you would sleep over, or just take a nap while he worked. You never understood why he worked himself to the bone, but you knew he wanted to express his emotions through his music, and you were never one to stop him.

“I was thinking, Felix got me this game thinking it would be fun,” he said, pulling out a box of Jenga from his stack of board games. 

“Wow, Jenga, so original” you rolled your eyes. “It’s not your typical Jenga, it has truth or dare questions”

“Wait, that will be fun, I wanna know all of your secrets Channie,” you said pinching his cheeks. Sure he was older than you, but you loved treating him like he was a baby, it was fun seeing him all flustered.

“Do you want to set it up while I bring us some snacks?” He asked, putting the box on the floor and standing up. “Yeah sure, do you guys still have my favorite chips?” you asked, he simply nodded, heading out of the room as you took the pieces out of the box, stacking them up.

He came back in, holding two bottles of water as well as a bowl of chips. He popped one in his mouth, sitting on the floor facing you. “Okay, you start” you grinned, taking the chip that was in his mouth and eating it. 

“Yeah yeah, just don’t cry when you lose” he grinned. You just glared at him, there was no way in hell you would lose. 

“What is the most embarrassing moment you’ve had in front of others?” you read out loud, it was your turn and you had yet to lose. “Ummm, I think it’s the time I was changing into an outfit for one of our performances, we don’t know what happened, but I guess my boobs were too big or something because the shirt ripped as soon as I put it on, and it wasn’t like I gained weight or anything because it was loose at the stomach.” 

You started laughing at yourself, reminiscing the way your stylist and you were both in shock. What you didn’t see was the blush on Chan’s cheeks and how his ears got a bit red, thinking of how you looked without your shirt on. 

Before he could imagine it more, he coughed, taking out another block. “Where is the craziest place you’ve had sex?” you said, looking over the stack to read out the block. 

Chan’s voice became an octave higher “How can they ask such a question?” he asked, a bit bewildered. “Come on Channie, you have to answer it!” 

“I can’t” 

“Why not?” you whined, wanting to know

“I’ve never done it” 

“What!” you screamed out loud. Chan just covered his face embarrassed, he didn’t need you to think he was a virgin. “I mean there is nothing wrong with it, but that’s so crazy to me. Like you are obviously a really attractive dude, with a great personality, and you have a great body and smile” you kept rambling on, causing him to blush even more.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked, a bit perplexed. “Yeah, of course, I mean have you looked at yourself in a mirror? Like you are one of the most attractive dudes I’ve ever met.”

“Can I ask why though?” 

“I just came here at a young age, as you know, and I just didn’t find anyone to have sex with” he shrugged, calming down from his previous state of embarrassment. He took a swig of his water as you asked him a question.

“Oh, do you want to have sex with me?” you asked nonchalantly. Chan choked on the water unsure of where your ask was going. “WHAT!” he shouted, not trying to hold back his surprise. “I mean, only if you feel comfortable, I just don’t think you want to die a virgin” you shrugged, taking a sip of your own water. 

“Okay, yeah” he whispered. It was at that moment, the atmosphere changed. The air around you had become more sultry as you climbed into his lap, knocking down the Jenga tower in the process. “Oops, guess you were right, I did lose” 

Before he could even reply, you captured his lips in a kiss. He groaned in your mouth as you began to slowly grind your hips into his. “Why don’t I take you to the bed?” you asked, pulling by his collar. 

He just moaned as his back hit the bed, you began to straddle him, your knees around his hips as you rubbed your clothed pussy on top of his covered cock. “Be a good boy and take off your shirt” you said, kissing his lips again. 

He groaned again as he removed his shirt showing off his abs. “Fuck” you groaned, running your finger on them. “I should have asked to do this sooner” 

He just whimpered underneath you, feeling overstimulated. It had been weeks since he touched himself. He had never felt this way, he couldn’t fathom what was happening. The feeling of your pussy rubbing on his cock was getting to be too much. “Fuck, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum in my pants” he moaned out loud. 

“Aww baby” you brought your hand to his face, “maybe I want you to.” You grinned, getting off of him and taking off your shirt and the shorts you were wearing. His cheeks blushed red as he saw you in your underwear and bra. The accentuated every single curve and mark on your body and he loved it. 

“Be a good boy and lift your hips for me” he simply nodded, allowing you to take off his shorts and boxers. His cock slapped his stomach, the red tip already covered in his pre-cum. He moaned feeling the cool air hitting it. “Wow, you are so big, can’t wait to suck on it” 

Chan’s eyes opened in suprise as you took his cock in your hands, slowly sucking at the lip, given it kitten licks “Fuck feels so good” he whined beneath you. You ignored him, going back to sucking cock. 

You needed to stimulate yourself as well, so as you kept sucking his cock, you took one of your hands, removing your underwear, and began figering yourself. You continued to suck, adding a finger in at a time, knowing you wouldn’t be able to take his thick cock without stretching yourself out. 

He looked down at you, moaning at the sight of you fingering yourself as you continued to take him down your throat. The moans eliciting from his mouth made you wetter, moaning on his cock as your fingers were thrusting faster inside of yourself. 

You began to take him deeper, your nose beginning to hit his pubic bone as you bobbed your head up and down. You could feel him twitch in your mouth, and his moans were getting louder. “Fuck feels so good, omg, I think I’m going to cum” 

Just before he was going to cum, you took your mouth off his cock with a pop. He whined at the loss of your mouth on his cock. “Please, I was going to cum, why would you do that” 

Tears began to form as he felt bottled up, barely being able to take it anymore. “Oh baby boy, don’t cry” you said, wiping the tears off his face. “Just wanna make you cum in my pussy, is that okay?” 

He nodded, feeling eager to feel your wet cunt on him. “Baby, do you have a condom” you asked, kissing his lips once again. He nodded, pointing to his dresser, “The second drawer, Han bought me a box as a joke, never thought they would come in use” 

“Well tell Han thank you, now go rest your back on the headboard, I want to ride you” He simply nodded, sitting up and pushing his back onto the board, allowing you full access to him. 

“You are so beautiful, I’m so excited to have your cock inside of me” you giggled, rolling the condom onto his dick. He moaned at the sight of your small hands wrapping around his throbbing cock. “Fuck” he groaned out loud, causing you to giggle again. 

You rested your knees on both sides of his thighs, running his cock in between your slit, allowing your wetness to cover it. Before he could even think, you slammed the entirety of his cock inside of you, moaning at how well he fills you up.

“Oh my god” you moaned out loud, his cock already hitting that one spot inside of you “it’s like your cock was made for my pussy, I don’t think I’m ever going to let you go”

You kissed his lips again, moaning as you began to move up and down on his dick. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good, it’s clenching me, I don’t think I can last long” he moaned again, feeling your walls clenching him. It was all becoming too much.

You knew he was close, but you were too, the thought of corrupting Chan was took much for you. You began to move faster on his dick. “Fuck, I’m going to cum, please let me cum” he moaned.

“Don’t you want to be a good baby and let me cum, or are you selfish?” you asked, not stopping your pace. “Rub my clit baby” you said, gliding his fingers down to it, and showing him what pace you wanted it at. You moaned feeling his thick fingers rubbing it as you continued to move on his long cock. 

“No, want to be a good boy, want to be such a good boy for you” he moaned again. That was all you needed to cum, your walls spasaming around his dick, your pace didn’t falter, wanting to ride out your high and cause him to cum too “Please let me cum, please I’ve been such a good boy” 

“You have haven’t you? Cum baby, cum in my pussy” that was all he needed, you rode out the both of your highs.

As you came down, you rested your head into his chest, feeling over-exerted. “I hope that was a good first time, sorry if I was too rough” you said, kissing his lips again. 

“If you want me to go, I totally can” before you even said anything else, he kissed you this time. 

“You aren’t going anywhere, you are mine now. We are going to go take a bath and eat whatever you want” You looked at him puzzled, "Was my crush on you not obvious???" You just giggled, "I don't think it was, maybe I need another kiss to reassure me"

He placed another kiss on your lips, this time it was soft and sensual and not lustful like before. He picked you off the bed, took you to the bathroom, and filled up the bathtub with hot water and bubbles. 

After it was filled, you both sat in, your back pressed against his chest as he massaged your shoulders. He kissed your shoulder, whispering in your ear “Thank you for the best first time ever, but for this second time, do you think you can be my good girl?”  

[steakout-05]

technically it's actually 311223 where i live because we write our dates like normal people differently but the thought counts :)

[phoenixyfriend]

That one post about great domestic policy and HORRIFIC foreign policy just does not stop being true

Domestic Policy Win: The American Museum of Natural History in NYC is closing down two entire exhibits of Native American belongings in order to comply with a federal order that requires museums to obtain the consent of indigenous nations in order to display artifacts of native origin. The linked ProPublica article specifies that the exhibits in question are the Eastern Woodlands and Great Plains Halls. To quote:

The new federal regulations, which went into effect this month, prohibit the display of items subject to NAGPRA without tribal consent and ban all research done without tribal consent. In addition, the regulations closed a loophole that had allowed museums such as the American Museum of Natural History to keep ancestral remains and burial items by claiming that they are “culturally unidentifiable” — meaning in their view they could not be connected to present-day Indigenous communities based on available evidence — and therefore could not readily be returned to tribes.

Foreign Policy Fail: The United States, the UK, and several other nations, in response to claims that several members of UNRWA were involved in the Oct. 7th attacks, have cut funding to the relief agency in question. The Al Jazeera article profiles the Palestinian response, and also specifies that this funding was pulled after the UNRWA launched an investigation in response to Israel's allegations that 12 members of the relief agency were involved.

Australia, Canada, Italy and the United States said they would halt funding to the agency, while European Union foreign policy chief Josep Borrell said the 27-member bloc would “assess further steps and draw lessons based on the result of the full and comprehensive investigation”. Germany, Finland, the Netherlands and the United Kingdom then also joined the list of countries pausing financial aid to the UN agency, whose facilities where displaced Palestinians sought shelter have been repeatedly attacked in Israeli air raids. Ireland and Norway, however, expressed continued support for UNRWA, saying the agency does crucial work to help Palestinians displaced and in desperate need of assistance in Gaza. - Al Jazeera

"One million displaced people are currently taking refuge in and around UNRWA buildings. They are the ones who will suffer as a result of this decision," said Mr Gunness, adding: "The curtailing of UNRWA services will also destabilise the region at a time when Western governments are trying to contain a regional conflagration." [...] The US, Germany and the EU are among some of UNRWA's biggest donors. - BBC

Unfortunately, the WSJ article is paywalled, so I can't access the full thing for a quote.

Anyway. Call your reps. I'm not even talking to just the Americans this time, call your fucking reps. If they aren't donating to UNRWA, then make them do something. Is the organization possibly a security risk, and the concerns legitimate? Maybe! But you cannot cut the funding that is keeping 2.3mill people alive on an already shoestring budget and not immediately put a backup security net in place.

Until then, pick a charity with a good rating, donate and signal boost it, and politely harass your politicians.

Politely as in "don't shout at or cuss out the staffers that man the phone lines," because they are not your reps, but also because your number is going to get blocked and then you won't be able to pressure them in the future. Do be firm, though.

I'm personally picking the PCRF this time, since one of the three remaining hospitals in south Gaza has been evacuated and shut down, and the evacuees reportedly include women who just got C-sections, which means the evacuees also include newborns, and medical care is in high demand. They're also currently focused on providing clean drinking water to the people of Palestine. That said, so is food, and shelter, and winter clothing. Pick a need, find a charity, and toss them some money.

[offside-the-lines]

i'm half-doomed & you're semi-sweet | Connor McDavid (x Male!OC)

Summary: After a painful playoff exit to end the 2022-23 season, Connor just needs to get as far away as possible, all the way to Gold Coast, Australia. He expects some peace and quiet, a reprieve. What he doesn't expect is this happy and carefree bartender, Lucky, to make him question the choice he has been making since he was 10. Title inspo: Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes by Fall Out Boy

This fic is dedicated to @hiding-from-reality-56 for @wyattjohnston's Summer Fic Exchange 2k24. I'm really sorry it's late. Life has been nuts. I really hope you like it! S/O to Demi, Ashley and T for being my cheerleaders, beta readers and editors. Ilysm. Pairing: Connor McDavid x M!OC. This fic features an original male character. Word count: 11.3k Warnings: SMUT: 18 + ONLY. MINORS DNI. SAFE SEX RESOURCE. Angst, lots of (I would say light) angst (first 1/2). Smut, lots of (light to medium) smut (second 1/2). This fic deals with internalized homophobia and coming to terms with your sexuality by way of having your first gay and first sexual encounter (it's hot and sweet, I hope). This was a super meaningful topic for me to write about, and I hope it resonates. Please take care of yourself if this is a topic that is sensitive for you. Connor is also, as I liked to say as I was writing this, Cognitive Distortions and Anxiety and Self-Doubt stacked on top of each other in a trench coat. Our poor boy is going through it in this. The smallest emetophobia warning. Small mention right in the first section (7 paragraphs in). Masterlist | (My requests are currently closed.) | Read this story on AO3

It’s 4 am on May 15th, and Connor’s lying in his own bed. And the only thing he can think about is what should’ve been.

He should be going to Vegas, getting ready to win Game 7.

Or better yet, he should’ve never let it get to that point—needing a Game 7. They should be getting ready for the conference finals.

The humiliation of yet another failed year—a second-round exit, no less—stings deep, and he feels the bile rise in the back of his throat. The taste of ‘This is our year’ sits rotten on his tongue, the number of times he said it to the boys. Momentarily, he wonders if he ever truly believed it. If any of this means anything at all. Or if he really is just a mouse in a cage running on a wheel going nowhere.

The silence in Roger’s Place is all he can hear in the darkness of his own bedroom. It makes him feel like he’s going to crawl out of his skin. The idea of going back to his Toronto house, carrying the looming absence of those 35 pounds, makes him want to throw up.

Or maybe that’s just—

He bolts up in his bed, runs to his toilet, and throws up nothing but bile.

With his head resting against the cold ceramic, he thinks about his parents. He knows they’re not going to be disappointed. They don’t care about the Cu— They don’t care about all that. They care about him, but he doesn’t think he can stomach another off-season of their pitying looks and gentle encouragement.

Another off-season walking around the city of Toronto, feeling like everyone is laughing at him. ‘Look, there goes the Next Great One, the so-called McJesus. What a joke. Look at him, he’s a failure.’ He can hear their thoughts.

They don’t even know about the other thing.

He rinses his mouth and stumbles back to his bed. He picks up his phone and texts his agent about finding somewhere different to train this offseason before he can think better of it. “...in I don’t know. Fucking Australia or something. Just. Somewhere far,” he adds.

He sits on his bed, fiddling with his phone for a while.

He sighs and rests his head against the headboard. He closes his eyes and drifts, picturing what his life might look like if he wasn’t… Well… Him.

He remembers a sports psychologist he was encouraged to see called it ‘maladaptive daydreaming.’ Which—that’s always felt a little ridiculous, given that they also recommend ‘visualization techniques’. ‘Picture yourself scoring the goal, Connor,’ they’d say.

It always felt like the same thing.

He sighs and texts Jeff again. “Totally okay if not. I know it’s super late notice. Just feel like it might be good for me. And for next year.”

The next few days pass like a blur, just room full of people after room full of people. Saying the same meaningless comments over and over. Play the part. Be sad, but not too sad. Be honest, but not too honest.

It doesn’t help that Leon’s grumpy, too. Well, not so grumpy he won’t sit on Connor’s couch—that does occasionally happen—but grumpy enough that he’s been mainly communicating in grunts. But, Connor figures, a grunting Leon is better than no Leon, so they sit in miserable silence as episode after episode of Friends plays on his ridiculously large 85-inch TV.

Which—who even needs an 85-inch TV? Well… Connor does, apparently, according to his decorator anyway. It’s ridiculous, and he hates the excessiveness more with each passing minute. He considers how bad it would be to just rip it off the wall. Probably quite bad. He doesn’t do it. Instead, he pokes Leon in the side with his toe and smiles weakly when he gets an irritated grunt in return and a heavy hand gripping his ankle.

Connor does his duty as Captain and hosts one last team barbecue in his absurd house that makes him feel like a zoo exhibit. He says goodbye to Leon for the summer—every year, it feels stilted and weird; he can never find the right words, but he thinks Leon gets it anyway. Or at least some of it. Not that Connor really knows what “it” is.

Not that Connor really wants to know what “it” is.

Connor swallows down the lump in his throat and turns his phone off, settling in for the flight from LAX to Brisbane, Australia—apparently, Jeff took him literally. He can’t help but think What the fuck am I doing? But that’s the point, right? To not think.

For once in his life, it would be nice to just do something without thinking about it endlessly. To just do something without thinking through the whole play, without reviewing the tape and dissecting everything that could go wrong.

He pops a sleeping pill with the hope that maybe it means he won’t spend the 15-hour flight ruminating on whether or not he should be doing this at all. And then ruminating on whether or not he should be ruminating on whether or not— Yeah. Five hours of rumination he can do—he does it often with the NHL schedule and the Edmonton of it all—but 15 hours seems to be a stretch even for him. So, he pops a sleeping pill.

Besides, he hopes that if he’s asleep, he won’t have to make any more eye contact with the flight attendant whose hand Connor accidentally touched when he helped Connor put away his carry-on. He kept making such earnest conversation with Connor, a smile crinkling the corners of his dazzling green eyes as Connor embarrassingly fumbled over his words, which—

Yeah, he needs to get a grip. And sleep. Hopefully, when he wakes up, he will feel a little less mortified—from experience, unlikely. At least the guy was Australian and didn’t seem to know who he was.

Connor wonders if he would be like this if he worked in something mundane, like finance or sales. If he’s destined to be this way, or if hockey made him this way. At this point, it was impossible to determine where Connor ends and McDavid-97 begins.

Luckily, hockey means he gets the good pills, at least, and he is knocked out for at least 12 hours.

Connor spends the first few weeks in a weird state of suspended animation, just going through the motions of his off-season training. He meets the trainers, who seem to have been briefed by Gary on what he needs and throws himself into the work. No one recognizes him except for a couple of the guys at the rink. But they don’t bother him. It’s a relief. He thinks he understands why Leon fucks off to Mallorca every summer. He wonders why he doesn’t fuck off to Mallorca with him—something else to not examine further.

He takes himself to the beach and watches the surfers and tries to remember to reapply sunscreen every 30 minutes, or whatever, even though it’s “winter”. He fails, of course, and burns bright red after only a few days. He’s forced to return only in the late afternoons.

He finds a pub-thing between his condo and the beach and sits at the bar for dinner every day; nothing better to do. He orders a beer with his dinner at the bartender’s suggestion. He hates it. He drinks it anyway. The bartender—Connor thinks he said his name was Lucky?—probably thinks he’s an absolute freak, judging by the little glances he throws Connor’s way and the amused look he has every time Connor orders.

It doesn’t help that Lucky is kind of stunning. It’s a thought that Connor usually keeps locked up, stuffed in some deep crevice of his mind where he won’t have to examine it, but the longer he watches Lucky—not that he’s watching, he just happens to be at the bar every night, and there’s not much else to do—the more he notices.

Connor watches the messy mop of curls fall in front of his eyes every time he bends over to put ice in a drink and the way he brushes it away with the back of a toned, tattooed forearm. It’s hard to tell exactly how dark his hair is or what the color of his eyes is in the dim interior of the pub, but Connor finds himself itching to know.

But the thing that Connor thinks about as he lays in bed at night is the way Lucky interacts with everyone—playful, easy. He notices the way he flirts—and the guys he flirts with. There’s this weird tightness that settles in his gut, and it twists every time he catches Lucky’s bright smile and the glint in his eyes.

There are an increasing number of days when Connor feels the need to stay until closing. There are a few other regulars he’s gotten to know, and it’s fun to hear about their lives. They will chat with Lucky as he’s cleaning up the bar. 

It has nothing to do with the way Lucky will sometimes take some guy home. Nothing to do with the way it’s just out in the open. Bold, confident, and unashamed. There are never any side-long glances from anyone, no snide comments.

Connor is completely unable to ignore the way his chest feels too small every time it happens. He wonders if he could ever do that. He wonders if he could even look at the thing head-on.

He thinks maybe Gold Coast Connor could.

It takes him until the night before his flight to the NHL awards to decide that Gold Coast Connor can make moves. Gold Coast Connor has the confidence and freedom that Connor McDavid does not. Gold Coast Connor is funny and banters with strangers.

Connor McDavid knows to never have more than two drinks. It affects his performance the next day.

That’s why Gold Coast Connor has 5 or 6. Switches to whiskey after the usual disgusting beer. Lucky chuckles at him.

“I knew you hated that. Was trying to see how long you were gonna keep drinking that for. You should see the face you make every sip.”

Connor's face heats; he knows the ruddy red cheeks look ridiculous against his messy ginger beard.

After the third drink, Lucky shoots him a look. He responds with only a shrug, and he seems to decide to not press the issue.

He knows he’s drunk when he shoots his shot.

“Come home with me today,” he says to Lucky, leaning over the bar conspiratorially.

He laughs, smile wide and easy, eyes wrinkling. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Lucky’s smile shifts, and he stares at Connor for a long moment, lips pressed together. The weight of the look sits heavy on him and makes him squirm. He fights the urge to run.

“Yeah, nah,” Lucky decides, “I think it’s time to cut you off. Switch to water.”

Connor suddenly realizes how this must look to him. “I’m serious,” he blurts out, “about the offer, I mean.”

Lucky laughs. “Good to know.” He winks, and Connor feels very warm. “But you’re six drinks deep when you usually only have one beer. Whatever this—” he gestures at Connor “—is, I’m not sure I want to get involved in that.”

His stomach sinks like a rock, and bile licks at the back of his throat. “Oh.” About twenty different thoughts battle in his mind, fighting for dominance.

Lucky looks at him consideringly and sighs. “Connor, it’s not a no. It’s a not today. Trust me, I am very interested. You’re—Look, you’re going on your business trip tomorrow, right?”

Connor nods.

“Okay, talk to me when you get back, yeah?” He leans in—it makes his biceps pop, but Connor tries not to let his eyes catch on it—something akin to amusement dances in his eyes as his lips curl into a smirk. “You can wait that long. You can be good, can’t you?”

A heat settles in Connor’s gut. “Uh, yeah,” he splutters.

Lucky leans back, his smirk bigger now, satisfied. “I thought you’d be into that. Yeah, we’ll have some fun when you get back.”

Connor swallows thickly; something that might be hope simmers under his skin.

The good feeling Lucky leaves him with doesn’t last long. It starts with the mountain of texts, missed calls, and voicemails that come through as soon as he puts his normal SIM card back in.

It only gets worse when he’s faced with Leon’s fury. Leon is pissed off often, but it is rare to see him genuinely angry.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Leon fumes, steel grey eyes not even a foot from his face as he grips Connor’s arm so tightly he thinks it might bruise.

“Um, look—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Leon continues right over Connor’s soft voice. “I had to call your agent just to make sure you were still alive. Hey—at least Cameron got a text, right? Nice of you to not ghost your family, I guess. Guess I didn’t make the cut, eh?”

“Leo, I’m s—”

“You know,” Leon grits, “I was going to fly back to Canada ‘cause I thought something had happened to you. But, no. Glad you’re living it up in Australia. Glad you’re having so much fun.” He drops Connor’s arm and steps back, chest heaving as he breathes heavily. “Well, if you don’t want anything to do with me, then you can have nothing to do with me.”

“Leo, please—” Connor’s voice breaks as his throat burns and his chest tightens like a vice grip.

“Fuck you, Connor. Seriously, you’re a fucking selfish asshole,” he says as he walks away, the door of Connor’s hotel room slamming behind him.

It takes too long for Connor to remember how to breathe after that, sitting on the floor of his hotel room, staring at his shaking hands.

The day somehow gets worse from there when he has to ask Mikael Backlund, of all people, why Matthew has a sling on.

Backlund gives him a strange look. “Wh—Chucky?”

“Yeah,” Connor swallows.

After a beat of silence, he says, “He broke his sternum. Game 3 of the finals against Vegas. Played in Game 4 anyway. Didn’t matter in the end.” Backlund winces. “They lost in 5.”

“Oh,” Connor winces in return.

Backlund stares at him for a while. “Heard it was pretty bad.”

“Shit.”

The festivities continue around them. He gives a cordial nod to Nico Hischier and Jack Hughes as they walk past.

“I thought you two were friends; that’s what Chucky used to say anyway,” Backlund finally says.

“We are,” Connor swallows around the guilt sitting in his throat. “I just, uh, needed a break, so I was—Never mind. It looks like duty calls, so I’ll be—” Connor forces himself to stand up and gestures towards the event people waving at him. “Have a good night. See you next season.”

Backlund nods with an expression Connor can’t quite place—he thinks it might be pity.

Connor sleeps so poorly over the next few days, and it’s a wonder he’s coherent when he meets the Bedard kid. He feels horribly ill-equipped to give the kid any advice and fumbles through some generic pointers. Leon was much better, as he usually is at these things.

At least the time together allowed him to earn back some of Leon’s good graces. They part with a promise of photos and texts and a hug that makes Connor feel unmoored. He wonders if Leon can tell he’s barely holding it together and just doesn’t care enough to ask anymore. He hopes not. He really needs it to not be that.

I guess we can add ‘friendship’ to the list of things Connor McDavid can’t do, he thinks. When he closes his eyes, he can only picture Leon’s furious expression, or Backlund’s confused disappointment, or Matthew’s annoyingly amused smirk when Connor finally had the chance to catch up with him and explain his absence. 

Leon’s anger is still the one that stings the most. It’s the one that plays on a loop in his head. It pops into his head at unexpected moments. It’s kept company with all the other failures and misses that haunt him.

He doesn’t sleep a wink on the flight back to Australia. 

It takes Connor a few days to work up the courage to go to the pub again, now more sure than ever that he made a fool of himself the last time. But, eventually, he forces himself to just do it—it has nothing to do with his inability to cook.

Lucky greets him, same as always, with an easy smile and a glint in his eye. It’s so normal that it makes him think Lucky forgot about their last conversation. But, something about the way he reaches across the bar and taps Connor on the wrist as he laughs at some dumb comment Connor made. Or maybe it’s the wink he sends Connor when he catches Connor staring at the way his shirt rides up when he reaches for the top-shelf liquor…

Either way, Connor knows deep down that Lucky definitely remembers their conversation. Which means Lucky knows something about Connor that no one else does. 

It’s a thought that should make his chest tighten and stomach churn—the idea of it alone would usually send him down a paralyzing spiral—but instead, it makes him feel feverish, a small crackle of expectation settling just below his navel. There’s just something about Lucky that eases something in his chest—Well, there just is something about him.

Neither of them do anything about it, though. Connor can’t decide if he’s disappointed or relieved.

A few days later, it’s almost closing and it’s quiet in the pub. There’s tennis on the TV: Wimbledon, Connor thinks, possibly a replay. He isn’t really paying attention. If he’s honest, he’s never really got tennis. Leon likes it, though, so he watches when it’s on.

“So,” Lucky says, interrupting Connor’s trance. He’s leaning against the bar back, polishing a glass—it makes the muscles in his forearm ripple. Connor pointedly doesn’t stare.

“So?” Connor says weakly. He knows. And he knows that Lucky knows he knows. He still doesn’t acknowledge it. He quickly looks around to check if anyone is close by.

“Did you still wanna come home with me?” Lucky says.

He just drops it into the space between them like it’s nothing. He just says it like it doesn’t turn Connor’s world upside down and his guts inside out.

Deep down, Connor knows that he could say no and Lucky would never mention it again. No hard feelings. Easy. They could both pretend like it never happened. Which is what Connor should want—it is what Connor wants. Which is why Connor is going to say no.

“Yeah.” It comes out close to a whisper, but it doesn’t need to be audible because Lucky smiles. Connor feels his cheeks heat, and it’s like every inch of skin suddenly fires up like live wire. 

Lucky turns around and places the glass on the shelf, and Connor blows out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in a puff. 

“Good,” Lucky says when he turns back around, “‘cause I already asked Kazza to close out for me tonight. I just need to grab something from the office, and then I’m good to go.”

Connor swallows. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Lucky runs his bottom lip through his teeth consideringly before he flashes Connor a heated grin and walks away. 

Connor waits for the pang of regret or guilt to hit; something to tell him to put a stop to this. It doesn’t come. All he feels is the prickling simmer of anticipation.

“Connor?” Lucky says, poking his head around the corner.

“Huh?”

“I meant for you to follow me,” he chuckles.

“Oh!” Connor scrambles to get out of the bar stool—it’s an entirely ungraceful affair—and follows Lucky and waits in the hall.

When he emerges from the office, he hands an envelope to Connor. “Can you hold this for a sec? Just need to put my jacket on.”

“Yeah, sure.” Connor looks down at the envelope, which has Lachlan written in Sharpie on the front. “Who’s this for?”

Lucky freezes and cocks his head. “What?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—It’s just on the—Nevermind. Don’t worry about it,” Connor mumbles.

“No, no. Wait.” He shakes his head and huffs. “It’s me? Lachlan, that’s my name?” He pronounces it like Lock-lan, which confuses Connor more.

“What do you mean?” 

“Lachy… It’s short for Lachlan?”

“It is?” Connor furrows his eyebrows.

“Yeah, mate! What have you been calling me?”

“I thought your name was Lucky!”

Lucky—or Lachy?—bursts out laughing, snorting a little as he clutches his sides. “I thought you were just saying it weird,” he manages to get out between laughs.

Connor rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, it was loud in there when you introduced yourself, so…” he lets himself trail off. He shifts on his feet, looking at the carpet.

Lachy shakes his head, still chuckling as he grabs Connor’s hand at the wrist. “Come on, this way.”

“It’s a bit weird now ‘cause I’ve been calling you Lucky all this time, and you’re Lucky in my head. I guess I have to change that now,” Connor murmurs, largely to himself.

Lachy hums. He tugs on Connor’s wrist and pulls him forward, swallowing the space between them as he backs them into a door. In a snap second, it’s like all the air has left the room, the world around them focusing in on the one point of contact at Connor’s wrist. Lachy’s hand is warm as it applies some pressure.

There is a beat of silence where Connor doesn’t know what to do but look. The lighting is a little better back here, and it catches on the strands of Lachy’s hair that have been lightened by the sun. In this lighting, Connor thinks Lachy’s eyes might be hazel or maybe a warm amber. He feels an inexplicable need to find out. 

The thing that catches Connor off-guard is the way he has to look down at Lachlan. Connor knew that he’s shorter—has seen him with his coworkers to compare—but it didn’t prepare him for the way it feels. The way that Lachy’s everything makes him feel pinned in place even as he towers over him—the six inches or so of height difference feels meaningless under his heated gaze.

Lachy reaches back with his free hand and grabs the door handle.

“You can keep calling me Lucky if you want, seeing as you’ll be getting Lucky tonight, right?” The corner of Lachy's lip ticks up in a smirk as he bites back a laugh. He leans in. “You can call me whatever you like once I’m inside you.”

Connor chokes. “Um, okay?” he squeaks, spluttering.

Lachy—Lucky?—leans his head back against the door and laughs. There is no explanation for the way the sound seeps into Connor, reaching every single crevice. It should be embarrassing to be this affected by someone’s laugh. Connor doesn’t have time to explore that thought further as Lucky pushes the door open and pulls Connor with him into the cool evening air.

The walk to Lucky’s place is not very long. But it is enough time for Connor to feel the ever-present doubt creeping in, even as Lucky tells him a funny story about a collision he saw while he was surfing that morning. He’s standing so close. Close enough that he can feel the heat of Lucky’s arm against his own. Closer than is normal for two guys casually strolling down the street, which—

Connor knows they’re not just two guys walking down the street. Not at all. He can still feel the anticipation simmering under his skin even as the cold air cuts through his thin sweater.

He tries to focus on the fact that the streets are empty, except for the occasional car, and no one knows him here. Here, he’s just Connor. So he tries not to let the looming shadow of his Name dig its claws in.

The thing is… he has a guy—a really hot guy who definitely knows what he’s doing—who is willing to take Connor home. A guy who seems to be into his disheveled and awkward self for some reason. A guy who inexplicably makes Connor feel safe, thousands of miles away from home and away from everything and everyone he knows.

Connor should take this gift with both hands and say thank you like the good Canadian boy that he is.

He thinks about the visualization exercises and pictures himself taking off the Edmonton Oilers jersey with McDavid 97 on the back and the C on the front. He pictures himself handing it over to Australian customs along with the apple he had forgotten was in his bag.

Connor barely has time to even look at Lucky’s apartment before he’s crowded against the door. Connor sucks in a steadying breath.

Lucky looks up at him, his warm breath tickling Connor’s neck. “I’m sorry if I smell like beer; I know you don’t like beer.”

Connor makes an affronted noise. “I do so like beer. I just don’t like—”

Lucky huffs and cuts him off by slamming his lips on Connor’s. Connor lets out a little squeak of surprise before his body takes over. His eyes flutter shut as he takes in the warmth of Lucky’s soft lips.

It feels so foreign when Lucky slides his tongue over Connor’s bottom lip; the wet heat surprises him and makes him open his mouth instinctively. He’s rewarded as Lucky pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles on it slightly. Connor finds out he enjoys that as he bites back a groan.

Lucky’s hands move from the door behind Connor to rest on his hips, fingers applying gentle but firm pressure. His hands feel so warm Connor wonders if they would leave handprints for the world to see, like a brand.

Lucky makes a noise against his mouth that Connor can’t interpret. He hums a questioning sound and finds that it tickles a little. He finds out he likes that, too.

Lucky’s hands pull away, much to his dismay, only to grab Connor’s own hands and place them on his sides—Connor runs his hands down the firmness of his obliques and gives them an appreciative squeeze, earning him an approving sound as Lucky rests his hands on Connor’s chest.

Connor doesn’t know how long they just stay like that, kissing languidly as he slowly becomes more exploratory with his touches, sliding his hands over Lucky’s defined back. And Lucky returns the favor, running his hands over Connor’s chest—through the sweater material, it just feels like broad warm pressure—before reaching up to the nape of Connor’s neck and moving him the way he wants to deepen the kiss.

The wet, hot slide of their mouths feels so nice that Connor thinks maybe they could just stay doing this forever. But Lucky has other plans; he slides his hands under Connor’s sweater and hums appreciatively at what he finds. His hands travel up Connor’s chest; when he slides his hands directly over Connor’s nipples, Connor has to choke down a whine.

Connor’s hands move of their own accord, sliding down Lucky’s back and over his generous ass. His pressure is light, but it doesn’t stop Lucky from rocking forward and onto his tiptoes, stealing all the air from between their bodies. In doing so, he presses his hard dick right into Connor’s, the slide sending an electric shock through his body. They both moan at the same time.

Connor suddenly becomes acutely aware of how hard he is and the slight wet patch at the front of his boxers. Connor sucks in a breath through his nose. If he had known this was happening today, he would’ve jerked off before going to the pub. Hell—if he had even a second, he would’ve jerked off in the pub’s bathroom. Anything to take the edge off.

As it stands, Connor feels unable to get a hold of his restraint, like he’s reaching out to grab something just out of reach. It makes him feel underwater and suddenly too aware of all the sensations at once: the filthy slide of their mouths, Lucky’s thumbs rubbing over his nipples, the friction as Lucky grinds their clothed cocks together. It’s all too much as Connor feels his restraint fraying.

“Lucky,” Connor mumbles against his lips.

“Mmm,” he hums, leaning back a little.

This time, when Lucky slides his hands down Connor’s chest, he claws his hands, and his dull nails scrape over Connor’s nipples, drawing an unrestrained moan as he arches into Lucky.

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive,” Lucky mumbles as his hands continue to travel south, as he recaptures Connor’s lips in a messy kiss.

His mind feels fragmented. Split between needing this to stop so he doesn’t come way too soon, ruining the whole thing, and needing to come so bad he thinks he might die. But he can’t figure out how to put that into words, so he just floats in the liminal space between the two.

He feels Lucky slide hook his fingers over the waistband of his jeans and boxers, and it takes him a second too long to figure out what’s happening as Lucky’s hand dips inside. It’s just the brush of a hand over his bare dick, but it’s more than he’s gotten in almost ten years, and Connor panics.

“Wait—no—” he blurts out, muffled by Lucky’s mouth. 

Connor grabs Lucky’s hand and yanks it out of his pants, but it’s too late. He squeezes his eyes shut as he fights the shudder that travels through his whole body as he comes, largely untouched, in his too-expensive jeans.

He tucks his chin to his chest, face flaring so hot he must be bright red. He takes a few breaths to steady himself before he opens his eyes and dares to look up at Lucky.

He immediately winces at what he sees. Connor feels like he actually might die and prays for the ground to swallow him whole.

Lucky’s jaw clicks, his expression one that Connor has never seen on his handsome face before. One of hurt and confusion. Connor swallows.

“Is this a gay panic thing? Because I hate to break it to you, we’d been rubbing cocks for like twenty minutes,” he says, voice low and even.

“What? No! No, it’s not—” Connor stutters, “That’s not—No.”

“Right.” Lucky raises his eyebrows; he clearly doesn’t believe him. 

Connor realizes he is still clutching Lucky’s wrist so tightly it must hurt; he lets it go completely. Lucky takes a few steps back, and Connor misses the heat of his body immediately. He feels the edges of panic closing in, so he just speaks.

“No, I promise. That’s not what’s happening. I’ve known since I was like ten that maybe—” His eyes dart around the room, and his eyes fixate on all the little trinkets around Lucky’s house—it’s kind of adorable. He takes a deep breath. Fuck it. “No. I’ve known since I was 10. I’ve just never… told anyone before. Or done anything. That was… That was great. I really liked it. You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m so—” He runs his hands down his face. “Trust me, that is not what’s wrong. God, I want to die right now.”

His eyes affix to the surfboard mounted above the couch, a point just over Lucky’s left shoulder. It’s suffocatingly silent for a moment as Lucky looks him over. 

“Wait,” Lucky says, his voice low and tight, “Did you just… come?”

Connor drops his head in his hands and straight-up whines.

“Oh my god,” Lucky whispers. “Holy shit.”

Connor wonders if it’s possible to just travel through the door like a ghost. Or maybe blink out of existence.

There’s a shuffling sound before gentle hands on his wrists pull them away from his face. “Woah, hey, Connor. No worries, yeah? It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“Easy for you to say,” he mumbles. Connor thinks about all the guys Lucky’s fucked before and wonders if any of them had ever come in their pants after being lightly grazed by a hand. Of course, he would be a failure at this, too.

“Baby,” Lucky’s voice is so gentle, “I’m serious, okay? You have nothing to be embarrassed about. That’s… Seriously, oh my fucking God, Connor, that is fucking hot.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, baby, it is.” He gently clasps Connor’s chin so he has to look at him and smiles softly. “Come on, maybe let’s take a break.”

“Oh.” Connor’s chest feels too tight. “Do you wanna stop? I’m sorry. I can go if you want. I’m sorry for ruining it for you.” He knows his voice sounds odd, but he’s too panicked to care.

“Stop? Who said anything about stopping?” Lucky chuckles. “Unless you want to stop, I am very much still very interested.” He directs Connor’s hand to the front of his jeans, where the hard outline of his cock twitches in Connor’s palm. “Trust me. Very. Interested. But I can wait for a second. Come on, lemme get us a drink.”

Lucky walks over to a bar cart and pours two whiskeys. Connor wonders if he should leave anyway, if he’s just being nice. Sure, he’s still hard, but does he really want Connor, the guy who came from a light breeze in his entryway? Connor thinks about all the guys he’s seen Lucky take home before, and he just knows he’s going to be the worst—or at least, the most disappointing. Maybe it would be less embarrassing for everyone if he left now.

Lucky walks over and leans against the kitchen counter opposite him and hands him the drink with a soft smile. 

Connor determines that he should probably stay, given he’s come once already, and Lucky hasn’t come at all. And that’s probably unfair.

“So,” Lucky says, “Earlier, you said that you’ve never told anyone you’re gay?” Connor shakes his head. “And you’ve never… done anything?”

Connor sighs. In for a penny, in for a pound, or whatever. “Yeah. That’s right.”

“Really? Never?” Lucky says, slightly incredulous.

“Well, there was like once or twice in juniors—high school, I mean, uh. Bro-jobs, or whatever, on, uh, school trips.” He shakes his head. “It just felt wrong ‘cause they weren’t gay, but I was. And it felt a little like I was taking advantage of it. So I stopped.”

Lucky snorts. “Well, sucking cock is pretty gay if you ask me.”

It pulls an unsuspecting laugh out of Connor. “I guess. I don’t know. That’s not what I meant—I guess—it was just different for me.” Connor shrugs and bites his lip. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I never did anything again after that.”

“Like… nothing?” Lucky asks, not unkindly.

“Yeah. Nothing.” Connor sighs. “I think you’re the first person I’ve kissed in like almost ten years. God, that’s so embarrassing to say out loud. You probably think I’m so fucking weird.”

Lucky reaches over and squeezes his arm. “Hey, I don’t think that’s embarrassing. Or weird. Different strokes, or whatever. It is what it is.”

Connor didn’t set out to have this conversation. Realistically, he never thought he would ever even have this conversation—not at least for another ten years. But something about the earnest way Lucky’s looking at him makes him want to say it. Like it’s suddenly something that’s clawing at his throat to get out.

“I just…” Connor pauses and worries at his lip again. “It’s different for me. I…” He takes a really deep breath and blows it out. “I work in the sports industry, and, unfortunately, being gay is still a pretty big deal in my line of work.”

“Shit,” Lucky nods. “That sucks.”

“I guess a little part of me always thought that if I didn’t say it out loud to anyone or do anything about it, then it was just something about me that was just for me to know. Something that other people don’t get to know about me. I guess in the process, I stopped really acknowledging it, even to myself. It’s weird. I’m not ashamed of it, but I also don’t want people to know. Which must mean I am ashamed of it, I guess. I don’t know.” Connor clears his throat to push through the tightness there. “I’ve never known another option. Like, I knew this was what I had to do from when I figured it out at 10. It’s like… if this is your reality, you might as well accept it and move on, you know?”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not painful, though. It still sucks. I’m sorry.” 

Connor shrugs as Lucky lets it hang in the air for a bit.

“Am I the first person you’ve told?” Lucky asks.

“Yeah.”

“Wow… that’s…” Lucky smiles. “Congratulations, Connor. That’s a big deal. Thank you for trusting me with that.”

Connor blows out a breath, and it comes out long and shaky. Despite that, his chest feels looser, like one of the invisible chains that wrap around his body loosened. “Yeah.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit as they sip their whiskeys, deep in thought. Connor takes the chance to look over Lucky in the bright kitchen lights. Connor finally determines that he has hazel eyes. They’re largely amber with flecks of green, and it makes him feel warm. It reminds him of the start of autumn and the beginning of the hockey season and the hope that comes with it.

The muscles in Lucky’s forearm ripples as he taps his fingers on the countertop to an unknown beat. It makes Connor think of the little hints of his body under the fitted black shirt and black pants. He knows from the way his shirt stretches when he reaches for a high shelf that Lucky has a broad, defined back. He’s seen enough of his arms and hands to fuel his fantasies for weeks. And what he’s seen of his ass and thighs makes him want to dig his fingers in, just to see what happens. Lucky just looks so handsome, beautiful, hot that it makes his head spin a little.

A flash of heat rolls over Connor as he remembers the feeling of the solid planes of Lucky’s body against his. Connor’s a professional athlete. He’s seen so many naked male bodies in peak physical form so many times and felt nothing that he sometimes questions whether he is actually into men. Of course, there’s always someone who would knock him away from that thought like an 18-wheeler truck. Either way, he doesn’t look in the locker room. Rarely even wants to.

This time, though, it’s Lucky. And he’s not a teammate. And he’s gay. And, for some inexplicable reason, he wants to fuck Connor—a thought that sends another wave of molten heat through his veins.

He shuffles on his feet and feels the uncomfortable wet patch in his pants and flushes. Something catches Lucky’s eye because he raises an eyebrow slightly and cocks his head. It’s a minuscule moment, but Connor catches it, and the way the air seems to shift.

Connor thinks about how he’s already here, everything out on the table. Connor thinks about how he might never get this opportunity again—at least not for another ten years—needs to make the most of it. Connor thinks about the weight of Lucky’s hard cock in his hand. Connor—

“So,” Connor finds himself saying, “Are we gonna fuck tonight or…?”

Lucky throws his head back and laughs. It exposes the long line of his neck, and—Connor doesn’t know if it’s the whiskey or some other form of intoxication, but he has a sudden overwhelming urge to bite it, lick it, kiss it.

So he does.

He closes the space between them in one big step and leans down to run his teeth along Lucky’s neck. He moans in response, a deep rumbling sound that tickles his lips. Connor licks it and savors the flavor of salty sweat and the aroma of heady musk. 

“Yeah, baby,” Lucky groans, his fingers finding purchase on Connor's hips and gripping firmly, “I’m going to make this so good for you.” He tilts his head and captures Connor’s lips in a heated kiss. 

This kiss is different to the one at the door. It’s more urgent, incessant, purposeful. It’s messy as their teeth clash and tongues slide against each other. Lucky bites down on Connor’s lip harder than before, and he moans. Connor sucks on Lucky’s tongue, earning a moan of his own, before letting go with a pop.

“What do you want, Connor?” Lucky murmurs against his lips.

“I want you to fuck me,” Connor blurts out, the words spilling out.

Lucky freezes for a split second, almost imperceptible, before shaking his head lightly. Connor feels the stab deep in his gut; the sting of rejection hits him by surprise, and it hurts—more than he thought it would. He tries to pull away.

Lucky shakes his head. “No, I just mean, I’m not gonna fuck you tonight.”

Connor furrows his brows, feeling confused, still trying to step away.

“Connor. Not on your first night. You’re not ready.” Lucky squeezes Connor’s hip. “Next time though…”

Connor freezes. “Next time? There’s a next time?” he hears himself say, voice small and quiet.

“Yeah, baby. If you’re game, there will be as many next times as you want before you leave. You’re here for a few more months, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, breathless.

Connor doesn’t know who closes the gap between them, their lips meeting in a heated kiss once again. Lucky guides him backward until he bumps up against the counter of the kitchen island again. He hears the empty whiskey glass clink as his body knocks it back a few inches.

“So, what are we gonna do then?” Connor asks nervously as Lucky kisses down his jaw and neck.

“Oh, there are plenty of ways I can make you feel good, baby, don’t you worry,” Lucky says against the neck, the puffs of air tickling him. 

“Oh,” Connor breathes.

He leans back. “Luckily,” he winks, beaming, “you’re in very good hands.”

It takes Connor a second to process the joke before a surprised giggle escapes his lips.

Lucky pushes his sweater up, exposing his stomach and chest. Lucky flicks a tongue over one nipple and a thumb over the other. Connor groans, his hands tightening on Lucky’s shirt.

“So sensitive,” Lucky laughs into his skin as he kisses his way down Connor’s front. “So pink. God, you’re so flushed, too. It goes all the way down to… I need to know if…”

Connor doesn’t have time to even process the way Lucky looks on his knees between his legs because Lucky is popping the buttons on his jeans and pulling his jeans and boxers down in one motion.

His dick bobs free, already achingly hard again. The swollen head glistens, wet with a mix of his come from before and the new beads of pre-come collecting at the tip. The air feels uncomfortably cold against him, and it makes him squirm. 

He’s not uncomfortable for long, though, because Lucky wraps one hand around the base of his dick and squeezes firmly before running a hot tongue up the shaft. Connor’s breath catches in his chest. 

He’s given no time to process the sensation before Lucky sucks the head into his mouth, bobbing once before sucking him all the way down with a salacious wink. Connor groans and is, for the first time this evening, happy that he’s come already because it is the only reason he doesn’t blow it from that alone.

Lucky moves, bobbing up and down, his hands resting on Connor’s hipbones, holding him still. It is impossibly hot and impossibly wet and impossibly tight. Connor doesn’t even know what sensation to focus on; the only thing he can think is fuck, that feels so good.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to get a handle on his ragged breathing.

He has nothing really to compare this to, but he doesn’t need to compare anything because he feels as though he is on fire, sweat prickling all over him as he focuses on not coming. He focuses on the tension and heat that settles in his gut. 

It’s so different than when he touches himself; it’s just so much more. More everything, everywhere. The sounds, the smells—he hasn’t even opened his eyes yet. He thinks that maybe he can’t open his eyes and see what this looks like from a real POV perspective because seeing it would ruin his life.

Connor likes to think that as a professional athlete, he has conditioned himself to have great control over his body. A theory that is being very much tested as moans and curses fall from his mouth without his input at all.

“God, fuck,” he rasps, his hoarse voice sounds insanely erotic. “Lucky…” Lucky swirls his tongue over the head as he moves himself up and down Connor’s dick. “Lachy… Fuck. Lachlan,” he moans.

Lucky hums—Connor feels it all the way up his spine—and pulls off with a pop. “Say it again.” His hand moves to lazily slide up and down his shaft.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.” His voice sounds even more fucked than Connor’s; it makes his head spin.

“Lachlan,” he says softly.

Lucky smiles and makes a low noise of approval before sucking Connor back down, all while keeping his eyes pinned on Connor, who can’t look away.

“Oh fuck, Lachlan,” he says, and he’s rewarded with another groan. “You look so good. You feel so good. This is… ahh…”

His hands are gripping the kitchen counter so hard it hurts. The view of Lucky’s shiny red lips stretched over him is too much, his hold on his self-control close to faltering. 

He closes his eyes and lets his head hang back; he’s unable to bite down the keening sound that escapes when Lucky flicks his tongue along the frenulum. The symphony of sound in the room sounds so filthy Connor thinks he would be flushing even pinker if he could. But he knows he’s already flushed red from his face to his dick that’s disappearing into Lucky’s incredible mouth.

Connor thinks about Leo and what he would say if he saw this. He wonders if he would be disgusted. If he’d never talk to him off the ice again. If he’d request a trade. If he would lose his best friend. He thinks about what the people would say if they saw him like this—Cam, his parents, his teammates, his agent—

Lucky’s hand slides down Connor’s shaft to the root and traces the line between his balls that are wound up high and tight against his body. His dick throbs inside Lucky’s mouth, and he feels more than hears Lucky’s moan of appreciation.

He decides he shouldn't be thinking of anything at all. However, the decision is more or less taken out of his hands when Lucky presses a finger behind his balls with such incredible precision his knees almost buckle.

The movement causes him open his eyes, and he watches as he accidentally fucks into Lucky’s mouth. Lucky’s dark lashes are wet, and his hazel eyes glisten as they look up at Connor as he fights against a choke, eyes fluttering shut in concentration. Connor thinks he’s never going to forget this moment, the way this looks. Even if this is only a one-time thing, it’s worth it.

Lucky reached up to grab Connor’s hand and place it in his hair. Connor cards his fingers through the soft curls. Lucky rolls his eyes humorously before pulling off.

“Fuck my face, Connor,” he rasps.

“Oh… Oh, fuck,” Connor whispers, hands shaking slightly as they move to grip his hair.

Lucky waits, mouth open, as he reaches one hand between his own pants. Connor watches as Lucky wraps a hand around his own cock, and feels compelled to say something.

“No,” he says.

“No?” Lucky furrows his brow.

“No, don’t—I want to get you. After—”

“Oh,” Lucky breathes, “Fuck, yeah. Okay.”

Connor watches as Lucky gives himself a firm squeeze before pulling his hand out and placing it on his broad thigh. He looks up at Connor and smiles before opening his mouth again, tongue hanging out over his bottom teeth. Connor groans as his dick kicks, another bead of precome collecting at the tip. Lucky leans forward and licks it off lightly.

Connor swears before grabbing his dick in one hand and Lucky’s hair in the other before feeding his dick into Lucky’s awaiting mouth. The heat, and wetness, and tightness puts him on edge immediately as his hand clenches, pulling Lucky’s hair tighter. His moan vibrates against Connor’s dick, and he feels it resonate inside every bone in his body. The urge to come is suddenly close to overwhelming. 

He keeps his eyes open this time as he rocks into Lucky’s mouth experimentally, watching for any sign of discomfort. As if reading his mind, Lucky rolls his eyes and makes a brief movement with his hands. It surprises a chuckle out of Connor as he relents.

He brushes over Lucky’s lips reverently with the hand that was gripping the base of his dick before he moves it to cup the back of Lucky’s head as he starts to fuck deeper into his throat. With each thrust, he feels the control he barely had fray and unravel.

His pace quickens, hitting the back of Lucky’s throat on every thrust. Lucky places his hand back on Connor’s hip to steady himself as Connor fucks his face. The tension in his groin feels impossibly taut.

“Lachlan, fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmurs. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” 

Lucky hums and grips his hip tighter so Connor doesn’t even think about pulling out. Their eyes lock, Connor unable to look away as Lucky cups his aching balls in his hand, reaching behind to the spot, and presses his fingers deep, plunging Connor over the edge.

Connor moans his name as he spills down Lucky’s throat, the world going hazy as his balls tighten and throb. He thinks the only thing that keeps him upright is all the years of balancing on knives on ice.

He gently eases Lucky off his dick, realizing suddenly just how tightly he was clutching his hair. 

“Sorry, was that,” Connor says, his voice hoarse and soft, “Was that okay? Did I hurt you?”

Lucky laughs, shaking his head before tipping forward and burying his face into the crook of Connor’s thigh.

“Yeah, baby, you did so good. A total pro at getting your cock sucked.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Connor rolls his eyes, unable to contain his laughter too.

“Now, there’s an idea,” Lucky says.

“Yeah?” Connor says, voice suddenly small as a wave of heat rushes over him. His spent dick throbs valiantly in interest.

“Oh, yeah,” Lucky hums against his thigh, “Not today though.”

Connor reaches down and pulls Lucky up to stand, supporting his weight a little as he comes off his knees. He leans down and kisses him gently.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against his lips. He can taste the faint flavor of himself on his lips.

“Nah. Yeah, no worries, baby,” Lucky chuckles, “Any time.”

Connor’s body shudders at that thought, and he chooses to push it aside as he feels Lucky’s hard cock against his thigh.

“I want to take care of you. Can I?” he asks quietly.

Lucky hums and pushes a hand under Connor’s sweater, muttering, “Why are we still fucking wearing clothes? And to answer your question, fuck yeah. Come on.”

They fumble, Lucky guiding Connor, who’s walking backward, to the bedroom, their mouths clashing while they finally remove their clothes.

Connor feels his knees knock against the bed as Lucky gives him a slight push, sending him sprawling. His dick unceremoniously flops on his stomach, and Connor feels momentarily embarrassed before he looks up at Lucky.

His breath catches at the sight. Lucky is standing there, naked at the end of the bed, his heated gaze raking down Connor’s body as he strokes himself. Connor is transfixed by the movement. From where he is, Lucky’s dick looks thick, thicker than Connor’s own anyway, maybe a bit shorter. It tapers down to the tip, where the head, red-purple and mouth-wateringly wet, peeks out from the foreskin.

Connor always thought he would be nervous at this moment, unsure. But looking at Lucky, he feels calm, like the moment before his skate hits the fresh ice in pre-game. Every single cell in his body feels dialed into this moment, reaching out to feel Lucky’s skin against his.

His eyes follow the dark trail of hair, from the groomed patch at the base of his cock up to the mat of hair between his nipples. His eyes track the movement of Lucky’s toned arm as he works himself slowly, languidly. He bites his lip as his eyes trail down Lucky’s thick thighs, a carpet of dark hair over them. For some reason, Connor just wants to sink his teeth into the meat of his thigh.

When he finally meets Lucky’s eye, he feels like his soul is going to leave his body. The look is almost predatory, the way his gaze feels heavy, pinning him in place. His eyes are so dark now, his pupils swallowing the beautiful hazel, as his curly hair falls messily over his face.

“You like what you see,” Lucky says gruffly.

“Yeah,” Connor replies, breathless once again.

“Good.” He kneels on the bed, and Connor slides back further onto the bed. “Me too.”

Lucky knee-walks his way up the bed, his thick thighs bracketing Connor’s legs, skin blazingly hot. Connor can’t help but scramble back until his head hits the pillow.

Connor swallows hard when Lucky finally towers over him. The hand not stroking his cock is pressed against the pillow right next to Connor’s head. The view is intoxicating. Connor’s hands twitch at his sides.

“Can I touch you?” he whispers.

Lucky moans and nods, biting his lip.

Connor reaches up and runs his hands over Lucky’s cheek. Lucky’s eyes flutter closed as he leans into it. Connor’s thumbs brush over his thick eyelashes, and then he pulls his bottom lip out from between his teeth. Lucky’s mouth remains slightly parted as Connor slides his hands down his neck, through the thick hair at his chest, down the hard planes of his stomach, and onto his thighs. 

Connor digs his fingers in, earning him a small hiss, and pulls Lucky’s thighs forward so he can sit comfortably on Connor’s stomach. He slides his hands up the back of his thighs, savoring the contrasting rough and soft of his thick leg hair. He takes a moment to knead Lucky’s ample glutes before taking one hand to trace the thick groomed hair at his pelvis.

Lucky’s hard cock sits heavy on Connor’s stomach, the pre-come smearing a little against Connor’s flushed red skin. Lucky wiggles at the light touch, cock kicking, as Connor runs his fingers down the soft velvety skin of the shaft, tracing the snaking veins. He is so transfixed by it, how soft it is, how much it responds to his touch, how hot all of this is—

“Please,” he hears Lucky whisper, a hint of a whine.

Connor blinks and looks up at Lucky, who looks like he’s in a tremendous amount of pain—although Connor knows that’s not what it is. His jaw is clenched, and he’s breathing hard and raggedly.

“Sorry, I just—Sorry,” Connor says softly.

He takes a deep breath before wrapping his hand around the shaft of Lucky’s cock, earning him a deep moan. He pumps his hand experimentally, noting the difference in how it feels in his hand compared to his own dick, before applying more pressure. When Connor slides his hand up and down again, he runs his thumb lightly against the underside of the tip.

“Connor,” Lucky moans above him, his head dropping a little. His curly hair brushes against Connor’s cheek.

He hums, drawing up the play in his head as he continues to repeat the motion. Lucky’s leaking so much that it doesn’t take long before his hand is wet enough to touch the sensitive head without it being uncomfortable—he hopes at least. He alternates his strokes between one that goes from the root to the tip and one that squeezes the head with a slight twist—the way he knows feels good.

“Fuuuuck,” Lucky breathes. His arm is starting to shake a little from where it is next to Connor’s head. Connor turns his head slightly and presses a light kiss to Lucky’s wrist. “Baby, that’s so fucking good.”

Connor smiles and feels his chest puff a little, proud like when a new drill finally clicks. He looks up at Lucky’s face, now flushed with pleasure. He watches as he applies more pressure, watching the way Lucky’s eyes roll behind the closed lids and lips hang open. 

“Yeah, fuck, just like that,” Lucky says. His hand comes up from where it was resting on Connor’s thigh and grabs onto his shoulder, fingers digging in. It hurts, but Connor doesn’t mind.

Connor continues to stroke at an even pace, eyes gliding over Lucky’s face and body, taking it all in. Lucky continues to drop little praises between them, mixed with his moans and curses. Connor feels like he could listen to the way Lucky says his name forever.

It’s not long before Connor notices the way Lucky’s hips start hitching with his strokes and speeds up his hand. He loosens his grip slightly so Lucky can fuck into his hand in time with his strokes. 

“Lachlan,” Connor’s voice sounds hoarse and fucked-out, even to his own ears, “Open your eyes. I want to watch you come.”

Lucky moans and his eyes open, gaze unfocused. Connor is transfixed by his face: the square jawline and full cheeks flushed with pleasure, the way his eyelashes flutter as he struggles to keep his eyes open, the shape of his mouth as he moans Connor’s name over and over.

Connor feels Lucky’s cock get impossibly harder in his hand as his pace becomes more erratic. Connor sees the moment before he comes in his eyes as they roll back, his eyes slamming shut. Connor feels the momentary desperation before the relief in the way Lucky’s fingers clench into the pillow beside his head and into the meat of his shoulder.

He feels the first pulse in the kick of Lucky’s cock in his hand before the cum hits his chest, his name on Lucky’s lips as he comes. He strokes Lucky through his orgasm in even pulls. He feels breathless and in awe and reaches up with his lips to pull Lucky into a deep kiss.

When they pull away, a while after the last pulse Connor feels, Connor is smiling wide. Lucky rolls off him and pants in the bed next to him, his arm draped over his eyes as he catches his breath. Connor stays smiling like an idiot at the ceiling.

“Holy fuck,” Lucky murmurs against his elbow next to him.

Connor hums. “Yeah.”

“No, seriously. Holy fuck.” Lucky knocks his leg against Connor’s. “You’re seriously telling me you’ve never done that before?”

Connor lets his head drop to the side to look at him. “No?”

Lucky peaks an eye out and looks at him. “What are you, some kind of prodigy? What the fuck?”

“Uh…”

“Did you hack my brain? How—I’m serious, Connor. I can’t believe that’s the first handjob you’ve ever given. I think I might’ve died and fucking transcended. Fuck,” he breathes.

“Um… Thanks?” Connor says, unsure, “I guess I’ve spent a lot of time jerking off, so…”

Lucky knocks a knee against him again, harder this time. “Shut the fuck up.”

Connor laughs.

Lucky turns in the bed to face him and smiles dopily. “Do you want me to get you again?”

“Huh?”

Lucky gestures to Connor’s dick, hard and curved up against his stomach.

“Oh! I didn’t even—No, I’m okay. I think I might be fully dry.”

Lucky laughs. “Yeah, okay.” He’s silent for a second. “Hey, Connor?”

“Mmm?”

“Stay, yeah?” he says, voice quiet. 

“Okay,” Connor replies softly.

“You can stay there; I’ll grab you a towel to clean up.”

“Hmm?”

“Your chest?”

“Oh!” he huffs and looks down at the mess on his chest. He runs a finger through the mess and pops it in his mouth, the flavor salty and tangy on his tongue. “Hmm!”

Lucky groans beside him, “Oh my god! What the fuck am I gonna do with you? You’re a fucking menace.”

“What?” Connor asks, confused.

Lucky rolls his eyes and climbs off the bed. “I can’t believe you genuinely don’t know what you do to people, do you? Fuck.”

Connor shrugs, not really following but too content to care.

They wake up facing each other the next morning, the sliver of light streaming in through the curtains illuminating their faces. Their bodies are pressed in close. Close enough that Connor feels Lucky’s morning boner pressing into his own.

Through sleepy blinks, they kiss for a long time, slow and heated, their bodies sliding against each other. Lucky hooks a strong thigh over Connor’s and pulls them even closer together, their hard dicks sliding against each other perfectly.

They moan into each other’s mouths, kissing messily as the sensations build. Eventually, Lucky reaches down and wraps a hand around both of them, rocking against each other. The air in the room feels thick with their pants and moans.

Each slide of Lucky’s cock against Connor’s sends sparks up his spine; the way their heads rub together is unlike anything Connor’s ever felt before. The pressure of Lucky’s hand is light, and it shouldn’t be enough to get him to the edge, but it does faster than he expects.

“Lachlan, I’m gonna come,” he whispers, his voice thick with sleep and arousal.

“Mmm, me too,” Lucky moans.

When Connor comes, it’s nothing like the night before. It’s slow and sensual, waves of heat and pleasure rolling through him like molasses. Lucky follows not long after, covering them both in sticky heat.

Lucky captures Connor’s lips again, resuming their lazy kiss for a little while longer until the mess between them gets to be uncomfortable.

Lucky reaches up with his hand and licks it clean—it unbelievably makes a molten wave of heat roll through Connor’s body again—before he reaches up to cup Connor’s cheek.

“You didn’t panic and run away,” Lucky says evenly, without judgment and maybe even with a sigh of appreciation and wonder.

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t,” Connor smiles. “Why? Did you expect me to?”

Lucky shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess.” He pauses and sighs. “It happens. A lot of guys will have the post-nut clarity, or whatever, and make it clear that they regret what happened. They’ll try to make it real clear they’re “straight” which…” He shakes his head. “Anyway, I didn’t know you wouldn’t do the same. I mean, I hoped you wouldn’t. But…” He trails off and shrugs.

It stings more than Connor expects, and he feels his full-body wince. “Good thing I’m gay then, eh?” he says. 

He didn’t know he was going to say that when he opened his mouth to respond, but he feels with amazing—post-nut—clarity that he is glad he did.

Lucky smiles and it's the smile that makes Connor feel warm and tingly from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It’s a different heat than before. He imagines it’s the type of heat that sunflowers chase when they supposedly turn to follow the sun.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Lucky says.

“Me too.” Connor leans in and plants a soft kiss on Lucky’s lips.

Lucky hums, content. “Come on. Let’s shower, and then I can make us breakfast.”

Later, when he’s sat at the kitchen island watching Lucky talk animatedly about the merit of sharks of all things while making an incredibly delicious smelling omelet, Connor is struck by the normality of the whole thing.

You could replace Connor with any single person, and the world would keep spinning. Why would Connor be any different?

He thinks about checking his phone earlier. He had opened it, heart pounding, holding his breath while he towel dried his hair—he took the opportunity while Lucky was drying his hair in the bathroom with an absolutely wild-looking contraption—”It’s called a diffuser, Connor”.

So, he was hiding, essentially, crouched on Lucky’s bedroom floor where Lucky had plugged his phone in before bed, knuckles white around his phone as he turned the screen on.

It was underwhelming, really. The world did not burn down. It wasn’t front-page news on ESPN or Deadspin or Twitter or something. There wasn’t some sort of international beacon that went out screaming: “Connor McDavid is Gay” or “Connor McDavid has Gay Sex; what is next for the Edmonton Oilers Captain”. There were no “you’re fired” texts from Ken or Bettman. There were no “you’re disgusting, and I hate you” texts from all the people in his life who loved him.

There were only the normal texts. Photos from Cam of some Canada Geese. A text from his mum asking how he was doing. The most notable thing on his phone was a recent text from Leo, apologizing for Nashville—an apology Connor didn’t feel like he was owed, but Leo wanted to let him know he was sorry anyway. 

“Hey, just wanted to say sorry for how I was in Nashville. I don’t want you to think I meant it,” he had said. “You’re one of the best people I know. I was worried and hurt. So I’m sorry. I hope you’re having a good time in Australia. You haven’t sent me any pictures, asshole.”

“Isn’t it like 3 am in Germany right now? Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep?” Connor had texted back.

Leon had sent back his typical response—an eye roll emoji—and Connor had smiled and turned off his phone.

So, Connor watches Lucky move at the stove, easy and carefree. And, for the first time in a long time, Connor feels a little bit of that ease in his chest. Like there is just a little bit more room to breathe. Like there is an ever so slightly less weight on his shoulders.

For the first time since he was 10, Connor considered that maybe he could be wrong. That maybe Connor McDavid could get to have something like this. Something easy—private but easy. Connor considers that maybe this is something he might want to share with a select few people when he’s ready. Not the people who would make it into a Connor McDavid-97-Captain issue. But people who deserve to see Connor a little more clearly.

But for now, he’s just content to watch as Lucky tries—and fails—to flip the omelet in the air like a pancake.

“So, how do you feel about scrambled eggs?” Lucky asks, smile broad and eyes shining.

“Good,” Connor laughs. “I feel good about scrambled eggs.”

“Fuck yeah!” Lucky laughs.

“Fuck yeah,” Connor says softly.

Masterlist | (My requests are currently closed.) | AO3

[kaialone]

All Fanny Moves Translated (Guilty Gear Petit)

I wanted to do a quick translation of all of Fanny's named moves, cause they are fun.

And I thought maybe some of you would be interested in these too, so here you go-

--

とばしますよ “Here comes the shot”

Fanny fires a tiny Fanny from her syringe. In Petit 1, this move only fired a blob of goop instead.

Translator’s Note: This move’s name is a bit awkward for translating directly, cause the verb used has many different translations depending on the context.

Here it refers to the launching/firing/etc. of the projectile from Fanny’s syringe, and you could translate it as anything along the lines of “I’ll shoot/fire/launch” or the like.

I liked going with the phrasing of “Here comes the shot”, because of the double meaning in English.

-

ささりますよ “Here comes the jab”

Fanny jumps onto her syringe, assuming her pogo stance. In Petit 2, she moves forward and does damage while doing this. In Petit 1, she only assumed the stance.

Translator’s Note: Another slightly awkward one- more literally translated it’d be “I’ll stick/pierce/jab”, referring to her sticking the needle into the ground.

Like before, I liked using the phrasing “Here comes the jab” because of the double meaning in English.

-

ご機嫌いかが? “How are you feeling today?”

(During pogo stance) Fanny hops forward.

-

そしてさようなら “And, Goodbye”

(During pogo stance) Fanny hops backward.

-

上に伸びます “Stretching up”

(During pogo stance) Fanny jabs upwards with her head.

-

横に伸びます “Stretching forward”

(During pogo stance) Fanny jabs forward with her head.

-

下におります “Going down”

(During pogo stance) Fanny swings down from her syringe, returning to her normal stance.

-

ちょっと痛いですよ “This will hurt a bit”

Fanny stabs with her syringe.

-

呼び戻し “Call Back”

Follow-up to “This will hurt a bit”, Fanny pulls the stabbed opponent closer.

Translator’s Note: This move actually has the same name as Dr. Baldhead’s version of it. Faust’s version is called “Pull Back” instead.

Also, in the official English localization of Guilty Gear Missing Link, this move was left untranslated as “Yobi Modoshi”, so if you want to be super accurate, you’d go with that.

-

採血しますね。 “I'll take a blood sample.”

Follow-up to “Call Back”, Fanny draws blood from the opponent.

-

ちょっと貧血気味なんです。 "I'm a little anemic."

Fanny faints onto a hospital bed, smacking into her opponent.

In Petit 1, the move functioned a bit differently, with the setting up of the bed being the active frames, and Fanny would fall asleep even on a miss (but the animation was shorter.)

-

死の119番 “119 of Death”

Fanny calls an ambulance, inside of which the opponent is most likely harmed.

In Petit 1, Fanny herself was driving the ambulance, and the opponent (and Fanny, it seems) would emerge with an afro or the like.

In Petit 2, an unnamed character drives the ambulance while Fanny is taking care of the opponent inside. The opponent also no longer gains an afro, but Fanny seemingly still does?

Translator’s Note: The move’s name “119 of Death” refers to “119”, which is the emergency call number used in Japan. So, if one were to localize this into English, one could go with something like “911 of Death” (for America), “112 of Death” (Europe), or perhaps “000 of Death” (Australia?)

I considered going for what would make the most sense in-universe, but Fanny’s own location isn’t entirely clear. After all, GGX and by extension Petit has stages all over Eurasia, and beyond, too. Her home stage Nirvana doesn’t have a confirmed location on Earth, so that’s not helping. Fanny herself also happens to be one of the few characters with no confirmed country of origin (it’s just listed as “unknown”), so no dice there, either.

And most importantly, there’s the fact that… phones don’t exist anymore in this world. Yes, a “phone spell” does exist, but that one isn’t used by the average person, and even then, I highly doubt they’d still use the same emergency numbers as we do today, assuming they have any at all.

So really, this move’s name is more for us, the audience. And since the official Guilty Gear English localizations are pretty American-oriented, I’d bet an official one would go for “911 of Death” in this case, if they wouldn’t change it entirely.

(Probably thinking too hard about this.)

--

[overtrred28]

Stargirl | matildas x original character fic [part one]

Words; 1.2k

Pairings; matildas team x astrid taylor (OC)

Warnings; none (i don't think)

A/N; first part of this series, if this goes well. please give me love and some feedback and hopefully theres many more parts to come. also this is mainly just backstory for now. enjoy xx

masterlist

Astrid Taylor had been dreaming of playing for Arsenal Women’s football club since she was 5 years old after watching her first game on the TV, immediately begging her parents to take her to a real game, but that was a bit difficult considering they lived in Australia. So through the screen, the obsession continued well into her teens, staying up late or waking up early to watch games and analyse the plays, just so one day she would be good enough to get there. 

When she was 6 she joined her first club after finally convincing her parents that this sport would stick, unlike the gymnastics, swimming and karate she had gotten bored with previously. And it turns out she really enjoyed it, and she was kinda good, not great, but she could keep up within those first training sessions and games. Astrid got really into it, spending most of her freetime in the backyard or the pitch down the road just kicking footballs and trying to score goals. 

She kept getting better and better with all the extra practice she was putting in outside of regular training. Her coaches, parents, teammates and even other parents would constantly say how impressed they were with her progress and determination as they watched her excel. As she grew up she stayed in the same small club, sticking with who and what she knew, she was comfortable. But she was getting good, fast and helping her team win each game as their captain, constantly leading them to victory at the end of each season. Football became her life, overtaking everything else, especially school, but if she wanted to get to Arsenal one day; she had to keep pushing. Her family knew that being in a small town club wasn’t going to get her far, but they weren't able to move to get her in a bigger club so she stayed with her team and her friends, doing what she loved and working on her skills constantly. 

When Astrid was 14 her coach approached her after a game, saying there was someone who wanted to speak with her about her recent performances. That someone turned out to be a Junior Matildas scout. She said she saw videos of Astrid’s last few games and started looking into her and all her achievements like constantly winning player of the match, leading her teams to win leagues and her impressive score sheet. The scout asked Astrid if she wanted to join the Junior Matildas squad. It was a dream come true. And her parents made a way for it to happen.

Flash forward a few years and she had dropped out of school to play for the Junior Matildas, being a constant forward in the starting 11 and scoring plenty of winning goals during their games, while also still playing for her local club between matildas camps and the off seasons. When she turned 17, Astrid hoped she would be considered for the next season in the Young Matildas squad and continue playing for her country for the next few years at least. But the call for that squad never came, a different one came instead. 

It had been a few weeks since some of the other girls in the junior squad started receiving calls and offers to play for the next level, The Young Matildas U20 squad. But Astrid was patiently waiting for someone to call, and she began to lose hope, her mum and dad trying to comfort her when she returned back home at the end of the season for break. It was taking so long, the anticipation and anxiety eating her alive. She almost gave up but her dad made sure to encourage her to play with him to keep practising at home, keeping her semi distracted. 

They were all sitting at the dinner table when her phone began buzzing, a random Sydney number calling and she dropped her fork, scrambling to answer the phone. 

“Hello? Astrid speaking.” Her parents watched her, holding hands with each other watching as she put it on speaker.

“Hi, this is Gina Rees, the team manager for the CommBank Matildas, how are you?” The voice spoke and Astrid’s jaw dropped, her parents eyes widened. 

“U-uh good, thank you.” She muttered out, voice wavering. 

“Good. I was just giving you a call to inform you that you have been invited on the CommBank Matildas squad.” Gina spoke and tears sprung to Astrid’s eyes. 

“Oh my god! Are you serious? This isn’t just for the young matildas?!” She tried to keep composed over the phone, but it was hard. 

“No. For the national squad.” The whole family couldn’t believe what Gina was saying. “We’ve been keeping a watch on you in the junior squad and when it came time for the Young Matildas call up, you exceeded our expectations and thought it was best to consider you for the national squad.” Tears fall down her face, mouth wide open while she spoke on the phone. This is what she wanted. 

“Wow. T-thank you so much. That’s-” She ran a hand through her hair, visibly in shock. “Sorry I’m just at a loss for words.” Astrid laughed lightly, Gina doing the same on the other end. 

“This is a big and exciting thing, so you have some time. Take the next week to think things over, sort out anything you need to and give me a call by next Friday, okay?” Gina informed Astrid. 

“O-okay. Thank you so much Gina.” She stood from her chair, excitement rushing through her. 

“You’re welcome, and congratulations on the call up. Have a good one.” She laughed before hanging up. Once the line went dead, Astrid screamed and began jumping up and down, happy tears flowing as her parents engulfed her in a large hug. 

“OH MY GOD!!!” Astrid kept jumping, her mum and dad crying and jumping with her. Her parents knew instantly this is what she was made for and they couldn’t be prouder. All her hard work was paying off. 

That was 3 months ago, before she instantly called Gina back and accepted the offer, and prepared to head to Sydney for her first of many Matildas camps. When Astrid arrived at CommBank stadium she was so nervous, especially being the only new person for that camp, but she instantly clicked with the younger players, especially Charli and Kyra. Even some of the older players like Mackenzie, Alanna and Caitlin quickly took her under their wing, knowing what it's like in the first camp.

Astrid began training harder than ever and her efforts didn’t go unnoticed by the coaches and the captains of the team. A-league clubs were finally looking into her after hearing about the new arrival, surprised she wasn’t already signed professionally. They all found her accomplishments with the Junior Matildas, and despite yet to make her debut with the national team, from what they saw of training, they were impressed. Astrid had received offers from Sydney FC, Melbourne Victory, Adelaide United and Central Coast United. She was overwhelmed and looked to her teammates for advice before signing with Sydney FC for the remainder of the 2021/2022 season with Courtnee Vine. 

Everything was slowly falling into place and Astrid was taking the first steps into becoming a professional footballer.

to be continued...

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Monday SpaceTime 20241111 Series 27 Episode 136

Discovering the origins of Magnetars

A new study suggests that highly magnetic neutron stars known as magnetars are born out of stellar mergers rather than single star supernova events.

Voyager 1 about to reach a light day from Earth

NASA’s Voyager 1 spacecraft is about to become the first man made object to travel more than a light day from Earth, that’s a distance of around 26 billion kilometres.

A vital military satellite defence system axed by Canberra

The Australian government has just axed a crucial seven billion dollar satellite defence project.

The Science Report

People using private jets generate 500 times more CO2 in a year than the average person.

22 pesticides consistently linked with the incidence of prostate cancer.

Humans not the only species that deliberately consumes alcohol.

Skeptics guide to Cell phones and brain cancer -- again

SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.

The show is available every Monday, Wednesday and Friday through Apple Podcasts (itunes), Stitcher, Google Podcast, Pocketcasts, SoundCloud, Bitez.com, YouTube, your favourite podcast download provider, and from www.spacetimewithstuartgary.com

SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

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SpaceTime -- A brief history

SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States.  The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science.  SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research.  The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network.  Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor.  Gary’s always loved science. He studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on his career in journalism and radio broadcasting. Gary’s radio career stretches back some 34 years including 26 at the ABC. He worked as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. He was part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and became one of its first on air presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary developed StarStuff which he wrote, produced and hosted, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth.  The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually.  However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage.  Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently.  StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode being broadcast in February 2016.  Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times weekly (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

[in-death-we-fall]

A New Beginning

A year ago when Terrorizer spoke to Joey Jordison, the drummer was a man of (sic) the edge. Now the Slipknot founder is in a different headspace and facing the future with heady determination.

Words: Tobyn Dorcian  Pics: Kane Hibberd Terrorizer #224, July 2012 (google docs link)

**self harm warning for questions 4 and 5 and image 4**

When Joey Jordison was in Australia in March 2011, he was a wreck. Ten months afterPaul (sic) Gray, Joey’s best friend and fellow Slipknot originator/bassist had died from a drugs (sic) overdose, and the drummer was psychologically frail. To distract from his grief, Jordison had over-committed to Soundwave festival as both guitarist in the Murderdolls and drummer for Rob Zombie – exhaustion led to him cancel (sic) a Sydney show.

A year on, Jordison is the antithesis of that vision. Once again in Australia, this time with Slipknot for their 7pm slot at Soundwave festival, he is chipper and energetic. Near unrecognisable with a bush ranger-like beard and moustache, the 37-year-old is in such a great mood he insists on doing two interviews: one at 6.30pm prior to Slipknot’s Melbourne arena sideshow, and another at 11.40pm at its conclusion.

How has the past 12 months been for you? “Very positive. I’m happier than I’ve been for a long time.”

The death of best friend and Slipknot bassist Paul Gray had put you in a bad place. What’s helped you to move forward? “I went right into the studio. I’ve been working non-stop, pouring all my energy into writing music, and nothing but good results have come from it. I am happy being (sic) the studio and am working on music because that’s my life-blood. We all have deaths in our family but you have to move on. [Pauses] It’s really hard for me to talk about Paul’s death…”

Do you ever feel Paul’s presence? “Oh yeah. I’ve been writing stuff since his death and he’s with me at all times. I will be sitting writing a riff, and I know the exact part where he is coming in. I almost talk to him, in a weird way.”

** As a tribute to Paul, Corey [Taylor, vocalist] got a tattoo of him on his leg. “I don’t have any tattoos but I have this. [Rolls up his left shirtsleeve to reveal two several inch-long scars on his shoulder]. After he died, I cut two lines [Paul Gray was Slipknot number 2] into my arm. He remains on my snare hand.”

** What do the lines represent? “That he’s with me at all times. I will never have tattoos, ever. I don’t put ink in my body. I am the only one in the band that doesn��t have them. I don’t want anyone putting my memory into my body but me. This will never go away. When I did it it cut pretty deep. Now, he is playing with me at all times.”

You have spoken about your life in Iowa, that you live in isolation. In your house there are no clocks, the windows are blacked out and you rarely answer the phone. To what extent has that changed? “I now have three cats: Mokey, Melvin and Murray [previously, Joey had Mokey], but nothing has changed. That part of me will always remain the same. It [that feeling] is even happening right now. When I walk out of this room [backstage at Melbourne’s Rod Laver Arena], I can’t stand it until I get behind my drums; that’s my safe zone. That’s where I feel at home, besides in my house with a guitar. I didn’t pick isolation – this is not a story piece, that’s fucking bullshit – It’s the way I am. I like things that I like and I stick to them. I’ve been like this since I was a kid.”

What do you think that’s about? “I don’t necessarily know. I guess I was so interested in music when I was a kid and was so engulfed by it that it was all I could think about. I was like, ‘This is what I want to do and this is my calling’. I knew what I wanted to do at a very, very young age, so I am very lucky in that respect. On tour, I have done the sightseeing and it is beautiful and I love that but if I want to see something I’ll got (sic) and see it. If I want to stay in my [hotel] room and listen to music… that is what I usually do. It just depends on my mood, which is a little different every day.”

You feel comfortable at home and behind the kit, but not so much in the places in between. “I can’t relate to too many people. When I was very young my grandma told me that if you have just one really close friend you should consider yourself lucky, and I still live to that rule, because honestly, you cannot hardly trust anyone. That’s why I termed the song ‘People = Shit’. I had that term on a t-shirt when we were a club band, way before we got signed.”

It seems like you don’t fit in. “I don’t. I have never been that person who goes out to try to make friends intentionally. I like to have a drink here [at the venue] and hang out with good people but I don’t go out anymore. I like hanging out with my family and my cats and my guitar. I am probably one of the only people who has a guitar in their bathroom. It’s there just in case when I have to go shit [Laughs], I have a cool idea. I always wake up with a riff, so when I have to go and do the morning thing, I play guitar while I’m doing it.”

Something might come of it… “A lot has come of it. [Laughs] I like taking baths. I’m not a shower guy too much. I love soaking in the bath and I get really good ideas there too. I like coming out and grabbing my guitar. Even if I write some of the craziest, fastest shit of the Slipknot catalogue, I am always at peace. I have to be at peace. I can never write anything unless I am at peace. That’s what’s good about having this sort of [musical] gift.

“I watch a lot of shows on the Discovery Channel about how things are made: it intrigues my brain. Some of the science stuff makes me feel a little stupid, but then I’m like, wait, what they (sic) hell are you talking about? They can’t do what I’m doing.”

Surely, you are in the wrong business [music] if you are looking for trust? “I can’t bitch about anything because I am very lucky, but luck has nothing to do with where I am right now. That luck shit can fuck right off. I work my fucking ass off to be like this. I did this to be true to myself and to my friends. Then you have all these assholes come in and they are like, ‘We can’t play a goddamn note but we learnt how to market a bunch of shit and collect off you’. I cannot stand one of them. Slipknot is a product of the shit we hate, and when we go out onstage it is vengeance.

“On the other hand, the maggots who come to our shows, I have something in common with each one of them: that’s how much they understand my music. Our music becomes their music. They give it right back to us and it gives us energy. I can see in kids’ eyes what we have done, what a movement we’ve created. Not many bands have done what we have.”

Last year Clown [Shawn Crahan, percussionist] told Terrorizer he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do Slipknot anymore. “I don’t believe that at all. Plus, there isn’t any shit that needs to be ‘repaired’, like there’s a rift between band members. We all do other stuff. There are no fights. We are getting along so well right now. The feeling is like it was in 1999, when we first came out. Corey and I understand each other more than we ever have. The thing is that we have never not gotten along; it’s the fucking press that turned us against each other. In fact, I brought Corey into Slipknot. Back then, no one even wanted him in the band.”

Why not? “At that time we were like an eccentric death metal circus act. It was great, but something was missing. I said to Clown that we needed to get Corey to sing for us. Shawn [Clown] is hardcore, he is the dad of our band and we respect his opinion. He was like, ‘Fuck no’, but said he liked Corey’s vocals. So myself, Mick [Thompson (sic), guitar] and Shawn went to the porn store where Corey used to work. When we arrived Corey was really nervous, like we were going to beat him up or something. Shawn went up to Corey and asked him if he wanted to try out and he freaked out.

“The next day he parked his car around the back of the studio – because we didn’t want anyone to know – and it was just me and Shawn. The first song he demoed was ‘Me Inside’. I sat next to Shawn and said, ‘Watch this shit, I know what’s going to happen’. Corey got to the chorus and Shawn looked at me and was like, ‘You were right’. Corey’s relationship with me has come full circle. We love each other very much.”

Right now, what binds Slipknot together? “We started to think, what if it [Slipknot] did go away, and realised how much the band meant to us. The songs mean more to me now than they ever have… remembering the crap we went through, all the stupid bickering and crap that never needed to happen. All of that has been weeded out and now it’s like we’ve been rebuilt, stronger than ever. Slipknot is a machine right.

“Our band is nine fucking extraordinary personalities, extreme, intense personalities, who live all over the place and yet we are still together, so fuck you. I would die for these guys. If I died onstage, I wouldn’t care. This is going to sound stupid, but it would be from my heart. It’s a fucking war onstage, it isn’t safe.”

Your temporary bass player [Donnie Steele] is out of view. Why? “The other guy [Donnie] is not allowed onstage, no fucking way. He is behind the stage and does a great job. We are nine people and we unfortunately lost one. But it doesn’t matter; we are still nine. We can never replace Paul, but that’s why I bought (sic) Donnie into the band. He was the first guitar who played before I came into the picture, when we were The Pale Ones. He is a really cool guy and very mellow.

“We haven’t decided on another bassist yet. We don’t want any marquee names or anything like that. It doesn’t make sense to bring anyone in from another band that’s huge. We want to keep it in the family, and he’s part of our family and it’s been great ever since.”

Will the next Slipknot album still be “the darkest one ever?” “It’s going to be dark no matter what. There ain’t no changing that fucking statement.”

How much darker than ‘Iowa’ can you go? “That’s up to us. So far, I’ve written and recorded 40 songs.”

Is there a song about Paul? “Yes, my working title is ‘Gray’.”

Have you been working with the other guys or by yourself? “To tell you the truth, it’s just been me. Everyone is writing stuff, but people want to do other projects [Corey Taylor and Jim Root and (sic) working on a new Stone Sour album. Clown has released a photography book], and so I’m writing alone until we can all come together. Then we can start playing and go from there. That’s how we wrote, ‘Prelude’, ‘The Blister Exists’, it’s how we start a lot of songs.”

With the next album, what is the journey you wish to take the listener on? “This will be our deepest, most celebrated record. The journey is that we are trying to live our lives, just like everyone else is trying to live theirs’. We all have weird shit in our lives and a lot of our songs reflect that. On the next record we will be exorcising, getting out a lot of the crap out that I think personally, we have held in too much, against each other.”

What sort of emotions will come out? “Both positive and negative. Jealousy? That doesn’t exist in this band. That is the worst emotion; it kills people. You know who fucking does that? It’s the press, and it just pisses us off. People [journalists] keep putting words in our mouth. If they want to keep doing it, keep doing it, because it’s pissing us off right now. Everyone on the outside – journalists, business manager, accountant – this album will be the worst in terms of ‘fuck you’. ‘Iowa’ was kind of playful. This one, as far as emotions go, is going to connect with everyone way more than any of our others.”

Where do you see Slipknot evolving from here? “Slipknot can do two things: either leave the legacy where it is now or cut everything that’s been before and take it even further. That’s where my mindset is at. I can only see it getting even bigger.”

In the early 2000s, Clown had stage props of cow heads on spikes. What is the most shocking thing Slipknot has done? “We never look to shock anyone. If it’s shocking to some people, then I guess you can call it shock but that was never the intent. That’s just Shawn being Shawn. We used to go down to the meat packing plant [in Des Moines] and were really intrigued by the smell of dead animals. We’d just sit there and gawk at them. We just liked the fucking smell of it. No matter how pungent or grotesque.

“Bringing that type of stuff out was part of the ‘Iowa’ cycle and it made sense then. I don’t think it makes sense now. The thing about that is you never know what we are going to do tonight. I don’t know what the rest of them are doing (sic) to do; they don’t have to know what I am going to do. We don’t have structure. Ours is no choreographed shit.”

You’ve been doing Slipknot for almost 20 years. To what extent have you mellowed? “Not at all. I’m still punk rock. I will travel in a van; I don’t care. It doesn’t matter to me: trains, buses, planes, whatever, I’ll get there. As long as I have my leather jacket and maybe a toothbrush, throw me in a fucking corner and I’ll sleep there. I don’t give a fuck.”

Slipknot must have made a lot of money. Looking at you, you’d never know it, as you are in no way ostentatious. “To tell you the truth, I have no fucking clue about it. [Laughs] It’s there, but money and all that shit doesn’t register with me. I don’t calculate it. Maybe it’s stupid but I don’t give a fuck about money, which is maybe why I’ve been ripped off in the past, but I just don’t care. Money is bullshit to me. I hate it. It’s an evil fucking thing. It controls the world and that’s why I don’t like it. With our band, it was never about that and it still isn’t. The last thing we think about is that. But if there is money to be made, of course we want to make it and not get ripped off.

“When we were starting we thought maybe we’d sell 30,000 records. Even getting signed was weird. When someone says, ‘You need to get business smart’, I’m like, fuck all that. I am still that little punk rock kid. That little kid that was in his basement playing drums, blast-beating and learning all this shit from the bands I grew up listening to.”

What does your number [1] mean to you? “Now it doesn’t really mean much. When we started it was an idea and I am number one for a reason. I was that number because I am the base of the band, the rhythm section, its glue. I don’t really look it at (sic) much anyone (sic), I try to think of us by our names, but I’m glad to still have that number.”

In 2000 you let my 15-year-old socially awkward nephew watch Slipknot from the side of the stage [in Melbourne, Australia]. 12 years later as his mother was dying of cancer, he recalled how much that meant to him. And how you looked after him. “That means a lot to me. [Pauses] I’m glad he had that outlet [Slipknot] because that’s what I needed when I was young. I needed it because I was an outcast. I don’t have many friends and I don’t want them: that is my sickness. The ones that I have are the guys in my band; they are my brothers. They would do anything for me.

“When I was young… that’s why I was so attracted to music. Everyone else was into sport and extra curricular activities and so I was the misfit. Music just felt safe. It spoke to me so loudly that it made everything seem clear – nothing else at that time did. In a weird way, it almost chose me. The demon grabbed me by the throat and put me on a mantle and said, ‘This is what you are going to do’. I have been stuck there ever since. [Laughs] It’s not a bad place to be. It makes me comfortable and keeps me warm.”

‘Antennas To Hell’ is out on July 16 on Roadrunner www.Slipknot1.com

Joey on:

Watain “They are the real deal, man. I think [frontman] Erik Danielsson is in the top 3 black metal singers of all time. That guy’s voice is pure. Watching them, people want to do the whole pit thing, but I am the opposite, I find it relaxing. It’s weird. The blood they put on, that’s real. They are coming to Iowa, so I will probably be in the front row, being a fan boy.”

Burzum “I loved ‘From The Depths Of Darkness’ [2011]. A lot of people focus on the murder [of Euronymous], but I look beyond that, to his music. I don’t condone murder, but I’m like, ‘Get over that and listen to this shit’. The Count is about as dark as you get and I totally love everything he has done. I haven’t met him, but he’s definitely one of the people I’d love to meet.”

Marilyn Manson “I met him a long time ago and we became friends after that. What I like about him more than anything is that you never know what’s coming. He is unpredictable and that is punk rock. That to me is true fucking art. I think that’s why him and me really connected. He gets me and I get him too. I haven’t talked to him for a while, but he’s always been nice to me.”

[red-airhead]

| Love you too | Lee Felix |

word count - 399

drabble

genre - Romance, Fluff

warnings - idol!felix afab!reader, feminine terms, gentle love, admiration, traumatic experiences, reader is non-verbal, reader speaks for the first time in years, felix being patient, readers POV, lmk if I missed anything

It's really short and simple but it's all I had in mind-

Dating an Idol was hard, especially when being non-verbal and not being able to express how I truly felt about him. It felt really embarrassing to know that all these fans could express how they felt safe around them but I couldn’t say a single thing. 

I didn’t choose to be this way,, well I did, but ever since I stopped talking I just couldn’t find it in myself to speak again. After being bullied in elementary school for being constantly loud and expressive, I decided that once middle school had hit that I would stop talking officially. 

On a lot of my school paperwork I made sure it was listed I was non-verbal, just so teachers wouldn’t get mad if I spoke. Because of that though, I was never able to make proper friends, and it was kind of embarrassing but there wasn’t anything I could do. Of course I had those silly little inner monologues but I could never say anything out loud.

I met Felix in high school, a little around the time that he came to Korea as a trainee for JYP entertainment. We met at a coffee shop and while it was a strange interaction, he was able to talk to me without feeling discarded. The only way I could respond was through the notes app on my phone. 

“Oh so you’re non-verbal? I actually think that’s pretty cool! You don’t have to talk to anyone and you can just basically avoid social interaction… How long have you been like that?” He was always so full of curiosity and questions that I couldn’t help but answer. That cheeky smile with those ridiculously cute freckles struck me in the center of my heart. After all of that, we exchanged numbers and we talked daily. 

I learned that he came from Australia and that he didn’t know Korean super well, luckily for me though, seeing as I had come from America and moved for my parents business, I knew english and could hold conversations over text with him. 

Yongbokie <3 : You’ve never told me why you’re non-verbal. You mentioned that it was a choice and not a birth defect right?

Y/N : Yeah, I chose to stop speaking. I got bullied a lot in elementary school for having a loud voice that I just slowly stopped speaking. 

Yongbokie <3 : Dang that sucks.. I wish I could’ve met you sooner,, I bet you have a lovely voice!

Y/N : I’m not sure I did but thank you Lix :)

Yongbokie <3 : Anytime mate!

Slowly but surely after that, we had gotten closer, and ended up dating a year or two after he debuted. Originally, I was going to be kept a secret, but due to JYP and their new policy being that the fans have to meet the person the idol was dating, Stay’s met me a little sooner than I wanted. 

I was introduced through a live, a certainly unexpected one but it was certainly okay, Felix made sure that I was comfortable and that I didn’t have to be super interactive.

“Everyone! I would like you to meet my wonderful girlfriend, Y/N! To run a little basis down, my love is non-verbal and while responding verbally is something she wishes she could do, it is basically impossible for her to do so, so please treat her well!” Felix had me pulled close, an awkward smile was on my face but nonetheless I got comfortable and stuck around til the end of the live.

Throughout the live, a lot of fans were squealing about how they wished to be in my shoes, with the way he would stare at my lovingly, run his fingers through my hair and press occasional kisses on the crown of my head, making sure that I was comfortable and warm in his hold. At one point I found myself starting to get tired, and he almost immediately noticed when my breathing had slowed and I let out a hum of discomfort from the way we were sitting.

“Awhhh, did you hear that stay? I think that Y/N is tired.. Unfortunately because of that, I have to end the live and tuck her in… I know, I know, you’re all devastated, but I promise that I’ll go live again soon! I love you stay, see ya next time.” And just like that, he had ended the live, his full attention going straight back to me almost immediately.

“Come on sweetheart, we’ve gotta get you tucked in and all cozied up, yeah?” With a little bit of struggle, he lifted me and laid me in bed, pulling the covers overtop of my body, “I love you, I’ll be right back to join you..” With heavy eyes I look at him, a soft smile on my face, and with the little power I had left and enough courage before falling asleep,,

“Love you.. Love you too Lixie..” 

[taylor-on-your-dash]

Swift Ascent - Dolly Magazine - May 2009

Original Scans; Conducted on March 14, 2009 in Sydney

As usual, this was transcribed for the interviews spreadsheet.

DOLLY's Emma V meets Taylor Swift and discovers she's the perfect antidote to trashy starlets like Paris and Lindsay, proving once and for all that nice girls really do finish first.

I'm standing in the middle of an excited crowd on a Saturday night in March when a tall blonde walks onto the stage. "I feel like we should get to know each other," she says into the microphone "I'll start - my name's Taylor, I'm class of 2008, koalas ave my new favourite animal, and I officially love Australia". The crowd roars in approval, while 19-year-old Taylor Swift grins from ear-to-ear. Watching her flit across the stage ina micro-mini green sequined dress, it's hard to believe we're just a hop, skip and jump away from Mount Kosciusko at the "CMC Rocks the Snowys" country music festival. But like the festival itself, which is free of line-dancing and boot- scooting. Taylor is a contradiction Born in the small US town of Wyomissing, Pennsylvania. Taylor surprised everyone when she developed a passion for country music "The kids at school thought it was weird that I liked country -they'd make fun of me," she confessed recently. But Miss Swift didn't let a little thing like peer pressure put her off "discovered Shania Twain, Faith [Hill] and the Dixie Chicks, and I found all these things in their songs I could relate to country music told stories that made me think."

RELUCTANT SUPERSTAR As I wait backstage for my interview with Taylor, it's obvious when she enters the room, even though I can't actually see her due to all the people trying to catch a glimpse - I haven't seen so much fuse over ane person since interviewing Jessica Alba! Despite the hangers-on and the gaggle of minders rushing around, she appears relaxed and cheerful as she records a TV interview. Watching all the craziness unfold, it's hard to believe the statuesque teen (she stands at 180cm, the same height as supermodel Gisele Bündchen) was a loner at school. "Junior high was actually sort of hard, because I got dumped by this. group of popular girls," she revealed during an interview recently. "They didn't think I was cool or pretty enough so they stopped talking to me when I'd sit down at the lunch table, they'd get up and move. Or as I was setting up my equipment to sing karaoke at the town summer festival, the kids would shout horrible things."

TAYLOR BY NUMBERS Costume changes in her live show: 1 (she ripped off her black tee and jeans to reveal a green sequined shift dress) Signed first song-writing deal at 13 Scored first number-one at 16 Number of friends on MySpace: 1,177, 650-and counting! Number of albums sold: 6,000,000+

THE TAYLOR EFFECT Finally it's my turn to chat to Miss Swift, but before I sit down, she extends her hand and says, "Hi, I'm Taylor." I'm impressed -most celebrities fail to observe basic pleasantries when you meet them. As we chat a number of things strike me: her skin is like porcelain- I have to fight the urge to ask if it's real. Her hair is her signature thing-flowing curls which are naturally honey blonde (she's never coloured her hair), and her eyes-even when the questions get more personal, her blue eyes atay fixed on me the whole time. Many industry people say it's this natural air that sets Taylor apart from other young musicians. "I didn't want to write songs about being on the road and being in hotels and missing your family and missing your friends," she says. "I'm inspired by boys and love. Those are my favourite things to write about." After Joe Jonas dumped her in a 27-second phone call, Tay didn't get angry: she simply used the experience to pen the track "Forever & Always" which was a late inclusion in her top-selling alburn, Fearless. I ask her if she worries about whether potential boyfriends will be scared off by her candid song-writing style. She pauses, before saying, "I think my motto on that is that if guys don't want me to write bad songs about them, they shouldn't do bad things". It's a little piece of Taylor wisdom to take home, along with a photo and a hug that makes me think we could all use a bit of Taylor's sunny outlook in our lives.

TAYLOR TALKS, ER, SWIFTLY ON

HER DEATHROW MEAL "A huge cheeseburger, large fnes and a chocolate milkshake." WHAT MAKES HER SMILE "When I've just figured out the perfect word to go in that gap I was missing [in a song that s when I am at my happiest." BEING IN LOVE "I don't think I've had one great love of my life. Love is interesting because you can feel like you are in love and then after, you realise that if it had been that great love, then it would have lasted." HER SECRET TO MYSPACE SUCCESS. "My success on MySpace has come from not treating my MySpace as a promotional site, like I just wanted to get a lot of fans and use them to buy my albuma. I just wrote on my MySpace [about] who I am as a person, what I like, what I don't like. I think that being real with people is the best that you can do Just be yourself if you keep having to reinvent yourself, eventually you'll run out of things to be." HER LAST BIG SPLURGE "I bought a tour bus this year-that was a big splurge! But that's like where I live, so it's sort of like investing in a new house on wheels. It has a treadmill out the back, it has a shower, a complete bathroom, wood floors, a huge bed and a chandelier over the bed. It's really fun!"

[acaplaya-musings]

Voiceplay-adjacent Visuals: Folsom Prison Blues

Never have I been so much of a fan of a country song (or at least, a country song performed by a male singer) before!

Geoff's cover of Folsom Prison Blues was uploaded on the 6th of August, 2023, and it's another one of my 3 favourite videos on his channel. Emphasis on "video", because although the song is great and it's yet again a cool arrangement of his, the video is what really sells it for me. So without further ado, let's get into it!

If you've watched the video (of course you have) and watched at least the first bit of Geoff's outro at the end (I hope you have), then you'll know that Geoff legit rented out an actual legit prison for this video! No longer used of course, and I think this section was the only part of the prison that actually still looked like one, but still! (Shoutout to the Patrons who helped make it possible for Geoff to do this! I'm still considering joining Geoff's Patreon myself tbh.)

I didn't think it was possible for Geoff to look any more handsome than he already usually does, but Geoff in glasses? Whoo yes please! 👀👌 (Or should I say, "Jeff" in glasses? 😉)

Also check out the book he's reading! It's a Johnny Cash book! (A little nod to the original artist of the song, of course)

So what's up with the numbers on the uniforms, and how do I know that the one in the glasses is "Jeff"? Well they're connected! Each uniform has a different number on it, and each number connects to a letter, phone-keypad style:

So the one in the glasses (and now holding that book in a very questionable way) has the uniform number 05333, which can be translated as _-J-E-F-F. Then next to him we have uniform number 43633, which translates to G-E-O-F-F, aka "Lead Geoff" (also context clues can help you out here - he's the lead vocalist for this one, and therefore, it's Geoff 😁)

Walking up to the foreground we have uniform number 32795, which is Daryl! (Fun story: I've done a few Voiceplay/Geoff marathons with two of my best friends (always via video chat, because I like seeing their reactions but also there's no way I'm letting them listen without headphones), and when we were watching Folsom Prison Blues and we got to this bit, one of my friends exclaimed "holy crap he's jacked?!?!" 😂)

And I'll clarify now that the one leaning(?) on the cell door has the uniform number 53674, and it's Jeoph!

(Apparently Kathy told people in the live chat or something that Goff isn't in this one because he's a good boy who would never end up in jail, or something like that 😆)

I'm guessing you've noticed how very fluffy Geoff's hair is in this one? 😁 (And also the prominence of his white-grey streak, gotta point that out too <3). Apparently it was quite a warm day when this video was being filmed, and quite humid too, and the "set" was open-air with no air-conditioning or proper cooling system to speak of. And look, as someone who lives in Queensland, Australia (which is frequently Humidity Central during summers), I can certainly sympathise, but dang the humidity didn't do him any sort of disservice, that's for sure! 👀

Also, because there is plenty of natural light for the shots in this one, this is another good video for exhibiting Geoff's actual eye colour (hazel), because the tinges of green are decently noticeable in this one! <3

To quote one of the comments: "a Geoff being unimpressed with other Geoffs will never not be funny" 😂

(Also more appreciation for Jeff in glasses, while he's still wearing them, because he (sadly /hj) takes them off as the first verse starts getting repeated, and then doesn't put them back on till right at the end!)

How nice of you to decide to join in, Jeoph! 😆

Also notice that the "Geoffs"/"Quadruplets" here each have a slight difference to their outfits? (Until Jeff takes the glasses off, anyway). It's in the sleeve lengths! Well, if there are any sleeves at all of course. Daryl is wearing a sleeveless shirt (we always stan <3), Geoff has sleeves rolled down to his elbows, and both Jeff and Jeoph have sleeves rolled up higher than their elbows! (Took me freaking ages to notice that, ngl).

(Though note even when Jeff takes off his glasses, he still keeps them hanging off his shirt, so they're still kinda technically a point of difference)

(And is it just the lighting, or is it just me, but is Jeff's shirt slightly different in colour to Jeoph's? Or am I just losing it a little bit? 😅)

I'm not someone who usually cares much about how physically strong/muscled a person is, but boy, he really do be jacked!

(Also necklace pendant in full view!)

"Don't ever play with guns!"

(Sharing this image because I literally only just noticed Daryl's sort of "warning finger" gesture (and accompanying facial expression 😝), though it's literally right at the start of the shot and he pulls his hand back fairly quickly)

(Sidenote: I adore the way that Geoff gives his "Backup Geoffs/Clones" individual personalities/identities in some of his videos, I can't get enough of it, and as much as I love the "truly solo" stuff he's been doing since, I hope I get to see multiple "Geoff clones" in a video again sooner or later (NOTE: yes this was written very much before Unshaken was released))

What's that you're holding there, Jeff? 😉

Also shoutout for not only the acting work by Geoff in this (subtle but certainly valuable), but the editing too! We're getting multiple angles of Jeff, Geoff, Daryl, and Jeoph, who all start in different positions in the foreground/midground/background btw, and it looks clean as anything! Maybe it's not actually too hard to do, relatively speaking at least, but had you shown this to me in like 2018 or something, that alone would have blown my mind, let alone the rest!

Harmonica time! Truly a man of many skills and talents! (Apparently Geoff used to play harmonica for a Blues Brothers show he did at Universal Studios Orlando or something (knowing how to play it was fully required to perform in the show), and he brushed up on his skills/knowledge for this video!)

Also I know it's obviously much more common to know how to play guitar than harmonica, but I found it a little amusing at how literally not a single reactor batted an eyelid at Geoff "playing" guitar in Man Of Constant Sorrow (though he's overall better at playing it via piano plug-in than with the actual instrument), but at least one or two reactors on this video were like "is that really him playing it?"/"who's playing the harmonica on this cover?" It's all Geoff! 😁

Jeoph's face right after Daryl hits a very solid F#1 in chest, literally the epitome of "huh, not bad" 😆

Obligatory comment of "hhhhh he's so pretty"

(Also gotta love the fact that neither Geoff nor any of the Backup Geoffs have any fewer than 2-3 top buttons undone. Full respect 😝👌)

Another point of difference to look out for in this video: all four of them move their hands differently when singing/harmonising! Most noticeable between Geoff and Geoph. Daryl, meanwhile, keeps his hands pretty still in comparison, mostly either standing with his arms folded, or with his hands half in his pockets like in the shot above.

"If they free me from this prison..."

(Nobody points out/seems to notice Daryl in this bit, which imo is a darn shame, so I'm making up for it!)

Bonus Geoff Clones up top in the background! (They're multiplying!!!!)

Now come on, that's just showing off! 😂 (Also if go back and rewatch this and pay attention to the background, you'll see that the background Geoff Clone on the far left starts clapping! 😁)

Massive kudos to both Geoff and Kathy for this video - other than Ed Boyer (who does the audio mixing for both Voiceplay and Geoff's solo stuff), this cover and video was purely a Castellucci production! Kathy was production manager as always (and she is for Voiceplay as well), and she and Geoff collaborated on "creative/visuals" (quoting the credits in the description, and the rest was all Geoff! The arrangement, the producing, the filming, the performing, (the harmonica playing!), and the editing! All him! He does a lot of this stuff himself for his other solo videos too, but this one is very brilliant, even without knowing how much of an independent creation it was!

[leftnotright]

A TEXTBOOK EDUCATION

"This will be a skill-building experience. You've had it too easy. You've had your Family name to back you, and your Right Hand at your every call. It's time you learn to carry yourself, to build from the ground up." Dino Cavallone, the Cavallone Don, fresh out of high school. Reborn, the deadliest hitman of the modern era, has a special kind of torture up his sleeve for his dear struggling student. Dino will have to see how well he handles alienation, isolation, and worst of all, class participation. “Now, go on, my useless student Dino. Let’s continue your education.” (Or: Reborn sends Dino to Australia. It goes better than he could have ever hoped.)

Parings: N/A Characters: Dino (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Vic Hunt (OC - Original Character), Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Romario (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)Cavallone Famiglia, Enzo (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Original Characters Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, University, Pre-Canon, Financial Issues, Fluff And Angst

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

CHAPTER 3: I WAS SCARED OF PRETTY GIRLS AND STARTING CONVERSATIONS

Dino sighed as he packed away the last of his possessions. He was by no means a homemaker, nothing had been folded and his suit was still sweat-stained at the pits, but it was one less thing on his mind.

He was once again working well into the night, but Dino was sure he was still running on Italian time. 

Enzo plodded about the house and generally made a nuisance of himself by getting underfoot, exacting his lettuce-less vengeance on Dino. He grumbled and croaked at Dino whenever he walked past, snapping at his heels now and then.

“Hey!” Dino yelped, dodging out of the way of another beaked snap. “You have your pellets!”

Enzo huffed and slowly crawled to Dino’s abandoned luggage. In Dino’s attempts to give Enzo his own space, he had lined his suitcase with a trash bag and had rummaged around in the brushlands that spotted the university and village, dumping armfuls of leaves and topsoil for substrate. It wasn’t the best, but it’d service until Dino could get his hands on some proper enclosure materials. 

Dino sat on the couch with a heave, pillows still strewn about from the tumble that morning. Compared to this morning, however, Dino felt he was doing a bit better.

He had managed to shower as soon as he got back from class, standing under the spray until the water ran cold. He had packed everything away and hidden everything illegal or suspicious. Yes, compared to this morning, Dino was doing a lot better. 

Dino even had an acquaintance, Vic. 

Romario would be so proud. 

Dino glanced at his phone and dialled that familiar phone number, listening to the tone. He got three rings before he was sent to voicemail. Dino hung up. 

Reborn had said it: ‘It’s time you learn to carry yourself’.

Dino was on his own here, for a time at least. 

Dino sighed and sank into the couch, closing his eyes against the red light cast through the room by a late-summer Australian sunset. Then in his hand, his phone buzzed with a pop-ping! Dino blinked at the unfamiliar tone and opened his phone.

EDST1000 Project Chat 

Jessica Cheng Hi guys! Do we want to just quickly choose what everyone’s going to work on for the project?

Jessica Cheng Like introductions and stuff?

Dino stared at the messages before sitting up quickly, paying attention as he reread the conversation so far. Oh God, he’d have to talk for five minutes! And he didn’t even really know anything about the topic! Social class; that could mean anything. 

Dino fumbled around for his computer and dragged it over to his side. He opened the unit’s assessments folder and started reading through it slowly, using a translation engine to define some of the more technical terms.

Vic Hunt I’m okay to talk later, someone else can have intro

Dino chewed his inner cheek restlessly. Introduction would be the easiest task, just some basic definitions, a few statistics here and there. Surface-level stuff, he could do that. It’d make him the first speaker of the group - but then he’d be out of the way and never need to open his mouth again!

Dino Cav I would like to do introduction

Dino sent the message and waited a few seconds. The chat sat in silence and he started to sweat that he was being too demanding, should he have been more casual oh God-

Dino Cav If that is okay

Another moment of waiting, then Vic started typing.

Vic Hunt Sure

Vic Hunt We’ve got Dino on intro. I can go last if we want

Jessica Cheng Oh thank god I can hide in the middle yes

Jessica then sent a laughing emoticon and Vic replied with a similar one. Dino quickly looked around for the emote menu and did the same.

Vic Hunt So our order is Dino, Jessica, Vic. Dino’s doing intro, and Jess and I have got to figure out our talking points.

Jessica Cheng And we have to make up some activities for the lesson. 

Dino watched the two girls bounce ideas back and forth, typing quickly and with more confidence than he could muster on a daily basis. He took his time reading, scrolling at a snail's pace as he pieced together abbreviations, colloquialisms and terms that he realised were just Australian.

Then, as if realising his lurking, the conversation was turned on him.

Jessica Cheng Do you have any activity ideas, Dino?

Dino nearly choked. 

Activity ideas for social class? Activities that would point out disparities in status and wealth? 

He could think of a few. Have two groups, one with more resources than the other, and make them try to negotiate for something. It was often used in his classes to show the importance of every kind of resource: intelligence, manpower, influence, moxy. It was also used to teach the students how to tip a deal in their favour even with scraps at their disposal.

Have two men walk into the classroom, wearing identical clothes. Watch how they move, how they talk, how they hold themselves. Identify the elite. Notice the fade of the clothes, how many stripes are on the watch, imperfections in the skin, posture and tone. Be able to identify the spy, the odd one out, the imposter.

Dino took a sharp breath when he noticed how long he had pondered. His phone was registering him as present, but he seemed to be nearly ignoring Jessica’s request to help in the project.

Dino Cav Sorry. I was thinking.

He sent quickly, and started typing up the more lucrative of the two thoughts.

Dino Cav We could have student groups try and achieve a result. One team has more resources than the other?

Vic Hunt That could work, it’d show how unevenly things like resources are distributed between classes. We could have three groups: ruling, middle and working class.

Jessica Cheng Oooh, that’s good! Okay, we’ll keep that kahoot idea as a back up though.

They had liked it. Dino heaved out a sigh of relief so large he nearly felt lightheaded. He never thought of himself as someone with social anxiety, but honestly these past few days Dino thought he just had Anxiety full-stop. 

The conversation tapered off and Dino quietly excused himself from the conversation. He scratched at his nape, already sweaty again despite the shower and weather-appropriate clothing. Dino was sure this room had air conditioning, he just needed to find the remote again after he had torn apart the room looking for spyware.

Just as Dino began to dig under the couch for where he suspected the remote to have fallen, his phone once again was set off with a pop-ping! He twisted his head around in alarm, arm crammed under the couch, and pawed around for the phone - 

He was stuck. Dino blinked and tried to jostle his arm that was wedged beneath the couch. It wouldn’t budge, and pinched at his sweaty skin whenever he moved.

His phone went off again with a pop-ping! And he craned his neck to see the source. 

Message: Vic Hunt (2)

Dino wheezed and pawed more frantically, scratching at the carpet to try and grasp even an atom of his phone case. He grabbed a fallen throw pillow and started slapping it against the ground, a blissful extra thirty centimetres of reach added to his efforts 

His phone wiggled its way across the carpet until Dino managed to snag the very edge of his phone. Dino opened his phone in a frenzy and slapped around until he pulled up Vic's messages.

Vic Hunt Hey Dino do you wanna meet up again sometime to work on the project?

Vic Hunt We could get lunch again

☁ ☁ ☁

Vic sat cross-legged on her dorm bed and glared over her knees at her phone. God, she hated texting new people. It was always so stressful and wrought. 

But her family had been scathingly blunt about her circumstances: in university, and practically friendless. 

Hunt Next Gen 

Vic I have friends, I have you guys!

Sam What? Ew? I’m your cousin.

Robbie I’m your brother, not your friend. 

Bec No.

Vic Your all cunts

Bec *You’re

Which was rude. And uncalled for. So what if she didn’t have many (any) friends!? She had good grades because of it!  

Sam proceeded to send her an ‘ILY’ meme as if that somehow softened the blow.  

Vic scratched her cheek irritably, feeling the stress rise the longer her phone sat in silence on her bed. Had she been pushy? Fuck, she hoped Dino didn’t think she was trying to flirt with him or something. Why would he think she was flirting with him? Unless he thought he was god’s gift to women who flaunted all the notches in his belt-

Her chest pinched and Vic felt her hands go hot, clenched in sweaty fists as her mind ran itself in circles, creating day-dreamed scenarios that fed a self-indulgent anger. 

She took a long breath through her nose and out her mouth. She clenched her fists, clenched her forearms, clenched her biceps, moving up her arms and down to her toes until she was limp on the bed. She breathed through it, going over and over until that burn in her chest faded off.

Vic was calm again. 

Vic stared at the far wall and let her mind drift again. Man, she wanted to shower. But, sharing a dorm house with four other people usually meant someone was hogging the bathroom for one reason or another -- and today someone had food poisoning. 

They weren’t naming names, but everyone knew it was Steph who liked to leave food out ‘for later’. 

Vic kind of felt bad for them; the air conditioning didn’t quite reach the bathroom. So the poor bastard was sweating for more than one reason in there. 

Her phone pinged and Vic took her time reaching over to grab it, rolling over onto her side as she did. 

Message: Dino Cav (1)

Vic hesitated and made some uncomfortable movements with her thumb over the screen rather than actually touch the notification. She chose to pull down to sneak a glance instead.

Dino Cav Sure! That sounds like a good idea when are you available? 

Then another one came.

Dino Cav Do you want to do tomorrow?

Vic stared at her screen as Message: Dino Cav (1) became (2), (3) and (4). Oh God, Dino was a rapid texter. With little else choice, Vic opened the app properly and started reading the lineup of bubbles.

Dino Cav We can try a food place in the university campus? 

Dino Cav I will try and make decisions this time. 

Dino Cav Or are you busy? It’s okay if you are busy, we can try another day.

Dino Cav I have classes until 2

Dino Cav What about you?

Dino Cav I have texted a lot

Dino Cav I will stop texting now

Vic snorted hard enough to hurt her throat. True to his word, no more messages came from Dino’s side, and his icon became idle like he was hiding from the shame of what he had done. 

Vic was okay with this. 

Vic Hunt Yeah we can do tomorrow. Class ends at 3 for me though, so you can pick a spot for us to meet up in the U-Bar or courtyard. 

Vic Hunt And lol that was a lot of texts 

Dino Cav I am sorry. I don’t mean to spam you.

Vic rolled onto her belly and felt a toothy grin start to spread across her face, feet kicking the mattress behind her. 

Vic Hunt It’s cool, no worries

Vic Hunt See you tomorrow after class then?

Dino Cav Yes! At the U-Bar.

Dino Cav I will text you the meeting point closer to the time.

Vic Hunt Sure, see you then.

Dino Cav Yes, bye!

Dino then sent a smiley face and waving emoticons before disappearing offline. 

Vic stared at her phone for a good, long moment, letting her thoughts sort themselves. Then Vic moved to call Robbie, who answered with a very polite ‘what the fuck do you want?’

“I want to adopt,” Vic said.

There was a long pause in the room, before Robbie asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I want to adopt Dino. He’s my son now.”

“Who the fuck is Dino?” 

“The guy I told you about,” Vic said evenly, gazing at the far wall, feeling very at peace with her choices. “I spoke to him some more. He’s so fucking awkward, you don’t understand. I’m going to adopt him.”

“You need to have good repute to adopt someone you know?”

“I’m of good repute!” Vic frowned.

Robbie wheezed like a deflating tire and the sound alone made Vic’s Cain Instinct flare up. 

“I am!” She insisted, and Robbie laughed more.

“Vicky, you bit the Minister of Education. On live television.”

Vic sucked her lips into a thin line before releasing them with a pop.

“And you’re a bitch.”

“Wha-!” Robbie hacked.

“I can’t believe you’re not supporting my decisions like this.”

“You need to be at least eighteen years older than the person you’re adopting!” Robbie insisted. “You can’t adopt Dinger or Donger or whatever his name is!”

“Says who?”

“Says me! The social worker! ”

“Well, you’re my brother, so that cancels it out. Like doctors can’t do surgery on their kids.”

“It doesn’t work that way-”

“Okay bye!” Vic waved and hung up before Robbie could talk anymore and ignored her phone as Hunt Next Gen proceeded to have a little riot in their corner of cyberspace. 

Vic got to her feet and gave a big stretch, pushing her hands up to the ceiling and going up on her toes. She released with a long huff and put her hands on her hips.

First day of university, done and dusted. 

[aeoki]

High and Low: At World’s End - Chapter 5

Location: Australian Town Characters: Tetora, Tomoya, Hinata, Touri & Mitsuru 

Season: Autumn Writer: Akira

Touri: Huh? Why’s it Anzu’s fault? She’s just guiding our group, right?

It’s not like she gave the pilot the wrong destination or something like that…? Would someone normally make that kind of mistake?

Hitsugi: No. It seems the pilot flew us to our destination correctly.

Tetora: What do you mean? We’re not where we’re supposed to be though, right?

Hitsugi: It might be quicker to just read it instead of hearing it from me. Everyone, please open the “Hallhands” app.

I’ll get Anzu-senpai to send everyone the documents related to this incident.

Tomoya: ………

Hitsugi: ? U-Uh? Did I say something weird? Why are you all staring at me?

Tomoya: Well, all our phones were confiscated before we took off.

They said it was to forget about work and to focus on the school trip.

Hitsugi: Now that you mention it, that’s right! It’s the same for us in the “producer course” as well!

I see~ If you don’t have your phones, then you can’t access “Hallhands”! That means for young people like us, it’s practically the same as plucking the wings of a bird!

Sora: Yes… It’s anxious not to have a digital device close by~ I’ve brought a gaming device but I can’t use it since it requires Wi-Fi.

Tomoya: Yeah. After arriving, they said they’ll hand out a device with limited capabilities so we can probably still do our work in Australia.

Hinata: But we haven’t met up with the staff here, though~

Hitsugi: It seems I’ve got no choice but to explain it to you guys, then.

Everyone here – the idols in “Late Departure Group 2” are cast in an entertaining travel TV show called “High and Low”.

Tetora: ? That’s the first time we’ve heard of this.

What’s High and Low? A movie with lots of delinquents?

Sora: Doesn’t it originate from a card game? The one where you compare cards and see which number’s higher or lower!

Hitsugi: Um, it’s our first time hearing it too, so we also don’t know why it’s called “High and Low”.

It seems Anzu-senpai is the “producer” for the “High and Low” project.

Touri: She’s the “producer”...? Wait, what do you mean? Are you telling me she’s the one who came up with this weird project and got us in this awful situation?

Hitsugi: No, that’s not true~ It’s not, right, Anzu-san?

It seems she was put in charge of the project without her knowing. Looks like the news hit her like a bolt out of the blue.

Hinata: Seriously, what’s going on? “High and Low” is actually Anzu-san’s project, right?

Why doesn’t she know what that project entails? Isn’t that weird?

Tomoya: Woah, there… Hinata, you’re usually pretty nice to everyone but why are you so oddly harsh to Anzu-san?

Hitsugi: I sense a conspiracy.

Sora: ? Meaning?

Hitsugi: While Anzu-senpai was busy preparing for the “Old-Fashioned Sports Festival”, someone submitted the proposal for “High and Low” under her name…

ES then accepted and officially used it, and Anzu-senpai was chosen to be the producer in charge as per the proposal.

Touri: Is something like that even possible? The people reviewing the proposals for ES sound like idiots with nothing in their brains.

I heard something similar happened with “Tanabata Fest” too.

Hitsugi: Our current situation is strangely a bit different from that… If anything, this might be even worse.

For “Tanabata Fest”, Anzu-senpai actually read through the proposal and then personally submitted it to the Student Council. I thought that was the “correct” way to do it.

But this time, it really looks like Anzu-senpai has no idea what’s going on. I can only assume that someone is trying to set her up.

They probably stole Anzu-senpai’s phone while she was taking a nap after managing the “Old-Fashioned Sports Festival”.

And sent the proposal to ES that way.

Since the sender was Anzu-senpai, ES would naturally think that it was her that submitted it.

And as long as they’ve written something like "afterwards, someone else will take over", then…

Everything will be going to plan without Anzu-senpai knowing.

Tetora: Which means whoever’s getting in touch with ES is the culprit, right?

Hitsugi: Yes. We don’t know who that is at this point, though. Even if we did, there’s a gigantic body of water separating us so it’s not like we can do anything. 

Touri: What’s up with that guy? What do they want?

Hitsugi: Hm~ No idea. Feels like we’re done for~ It looks like we fell perfectly into their trap.

The academy— the Student Council reflected on the “Tanabata Fest” incidents and also carefully examined Anzu-senpai’s proposal.

But it seems the people at ES still casually scans through Anzu-senpai’s proposals. It’s as if they’re thinking, “This is Anzu’s proposal so there wouldn’t be any issues”.

Tetora: Hmm~ It looks like Anzu no Anego’s excellent producer skills are actually backfiring on her.

Touri: More like it’s "Tanabata Fest” all over again. Don’t you ever learn, Anzu?

Sora: Well, Anzu did reflect on it and supposedly made a bunch of improvements, though?

But this time, it seems she got her phone stolen and had the proposal sent off without her knowing. So it’s not her fault.

Hinata: That happens because she sleeps in random places defenselessly. You are a girl so you should be more careful, Anzu-san.

Mitsuru: Well… it looks like Anzu Nee-chan regrets it, so I want you to forgive her for my sake.

Tomoya: You were just up to no good too. You should also be feeling sorry, Mitsuru.

Hitsugi: Fufu. In any case, because of this weird “High and Low” project, we’re now in the most northern town in Australia.

It looks like all the idols that came with Anzu-senpai are members of “High and Low”.

Tomoya: Whaa, you don’t have to lower your head, Anzu-senpai! No one actually blames you for this!

Hinata: That’s right. It’s all because of that person who submitted the “High and Low” proposal in your name.

Touri: So who is that person? What are they? Anzu, did you pick a fight with someone? 

Hitsugi: The “Peace Party” is pretty suspicious. I bet it’s their fault this time too.

Sora: Rather than finding the culprit, I wanna know about the details for “High and Low”, though~

Just what have we gotten ourselves into…?

← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: April 13, 2010

Lyrics:

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars

I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars

I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now

Yeah, I could use a dream or a genie or a wish

To go back to a place much simpler than this

'Cause after all the partyin' and smashin' and crashin'

And all the glitz and glam and the fashion

And all the pandemonium and all the madness

There comes a time where you fade to the blackness

And when you're starin' at the phone in your lap

And you hopin' but them people never call you back

But that's just how the story unfolds

You get another hand soon after you fold

And when your plans unravel in the sand

What would you wish for, if you had one chance?

So airplane, airplane sorry I'm late

I'm on my way so don't close that gate

If I don't make that, then I'll switch my flight

And I'll be right back at it by the end of the night

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars

I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars

I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now

Yeah, yeah, somebody take me back to the days

Before this was a job, before I got paid

Before it ever mattered what I had in my bank

Yeah, back when I was tryna get a tip at Subway

And back then I was rappin' for the hell of it

But nowadays we rappin' to stay relevant

I'm guessin' that if we can make some wishes out of airplanes

Then maybe, oh maybe, I'll go back to the days

Before the politics that we call the rap game

And back when ain't nobody listened to my mixtape

And back before when I tried to cover up my slang

But this is for Decatur, what's up Bobby Ray?

So can I get a wish to end the politics?

And get back to the music that started this shit

So here I stand and then again I say

I'm hoping we can make some wishes out of airplanes

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars

I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars

I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now

Songwriter:

I could really use a wish right now

I, I, I could really use a wish right now

Like, like, like shootin' stars

I, I, I could, I could really use a wish right now

A wish, a wish right now

Alexander Junior Grant / Bobby Ray Simmons / Christine Dominguez / Jeremy Dussolliet / Justin Franks / Timothy Sommers

SongFacts:

"Airplanes" is a song by American rapper B.o.B featuring American singer Hayley Williams of Paramore. The song was released in April 2010, as the third single from his debut studio album, B.o.B Presents: 'The Adventures of Bobby Ray'. B.o.B co-wrote the song alongside Kinetics & One Love, Alex da Kid, DJ Frank E, and Christine Dominguez. DJ Frank E also co-produced the song with Alex da Kid, Emily Boyle, and Sage Levy. The song was released to iTunes on April 13, 2010, and then to urban radio on April 27, 2010.

"Airplanes" peaked at number two on the US Billboard Hot 100. Outside of the United States, the song topped the charts in New Zealand and the United Kingdom, and peaked within the top ten of the charts in Australia, Canada and the Republic of Ireland. "Airplanes, Part II", the sequel to the song, features new verses from B.o.B, and a verse from fellow American rapper Eminem, while Williams's vocals remained identical to the original. This collaboration led to a Grammy nomination for Best Pop Collaboration with Vocals.

"Airplanes" was composed by B.o.B, Jeremy "Kinetics" Dussolliet, Tim "One Love" Sommers, DJ Frank E, Alex "da Kid" Grant, and Christine Dominguez. B.o.B wrote his rap verses, while Kinetics & One Love and Christine Dominguez wrote the chorus sung by Paramore lead singer Hayley Williams, and DJ Frank E & Alex da Kid co-produced the music. The original version had verses written by Lupe Fiasco. Later, the song was given to B.o.B by his label.

Williams' part in the song was explained by herself and B.o.B in different interviews to MTV. Williams said Paramore was on tour when she was given the song and she "liked the part too much" and accepted to appear on it. B.o.B said he has "always been a Hayley fan" and he did not expect a collaboration between them too soon. The duo did not get in the studio together to record the song, they were not together to shoot the music video, and had never even met each other in person, according to Williams. The only time that B.o.B and Williams were able to meet was when they performed "Airplanes" live for the first time together during the 2010 MTV Video Music Awards. The second time the song was performed together live was during Vanderbilt University's Fall 2010 "Commodore Quake" concert in Nashville. During B.o.B.'s performance, Williams came out as a special guest to perform the song.

[survey--s]

550.

What is in the back seat of your car right now? Just the hammock that’s on there for the dogs.

What was the last thing you threw up? Probably just water. It was when I had that awful bug back in February and was basically in bed for three days. It was horrendous and I felt so unwell.

Menthol or regular cigarettes? Neither.

What is your favorite episode of Friends? The One Where Ross Got High.

Does anyone have any blackmail on you? Nah, I don’t think so, my life really isn’t that interesting lol.

If you could marry any celebrity today who would it be? Nah, I’m good.

Have you been to a strip club? No.

Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? My toenails are painted pink.

Are you wearing socks right now? No, it’s really warm and humid still.

What was the last thing you had to drink? Iced Coffee.

What are you wearing right now? A black sleeveless jumpsuit.

Last food you ate? Chicken Ramen.

Have you bought any clothing items in the last week? No.

When is the last time you ran? Yeah, I don’t run lol.

What’s the last sporting event you watched? I have no idea, probably football.

Last person’s house you were in? Aside from my own, Sarah and Ella’s.

Last movie you saw? Alice in Wonderland - the original Disney cartoon version.

Who is the last person you sent a message to on Facebook? Susie - we’re planning on going out for breakfast tomorrow and we’re just organising the timings.

Ever go to camp? Yeah, day camp as a kid - I absolutely hated it.

Were you an honor roll student in school? We don’t have those here.

Do you like sushi? It’s okay but it’s not something I’d go out of my way to choose.

Do you have a tan? Yeah, from working outdoors in the heatwave for three weeks.

How old do you want to be when you have kids? I don’t want children.

Have you ever drank your soda from a straw? Sure, all the time in restaurants etc.

What is your age? 34.

Are you someone’s best friend? Personally I find it really strange when adults have best friends.

What are your siblings’ middle names? I don’t have any siblings.

Where is your dad right now? I assume he’s at home - probably eating or showering after his daily run.

What was the last thing you said? “I won’t be out all day”.

What color is your watch? I don’t own a watch.

What do you think of when you think of Australia? My family.

Ever ridden on a roller coaster? Yes.

Favorite gemstone? Rubies, emeralds, amethysts, sapphires.

Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? It depends on how long the lines are and how much parking there is.

Do you have a roommate? I live with my husband, two cats and a dog.

Do you have any bad habits? Yeah, drinking too much caffeine, spending too much time online and being addicted to my phone/the internet in general.

What is your favorite number? Thirteen.

Do you know anyone named Lori? Nope. That’s not really a very common name over here.

What color is your mom’s hair? Grey nowadays, but it was brown.

Do you have a dog? Yeah, a beagle. He’s upstairs snoring his head off after an 8-mile hike yesterday.

What happened to you in 1993? I turned five and started school.

Does your first memory involve your dad? It does, actually.

Do you remember singing any songs as kids? All the time. I used to put on plays and concerts for my parents ALL the time hah.

When was the last time you went swimming? Last summer at the beach.

Has your luggage ever gotten lost? Yeah, twice. Once it was only delayed by a few hours and I got it the same day, just later on, and the second time it arrived maybe 3-4 days later. 

Biggest annoyance in your life right this minute? The humidity is really annoying.

Have you ever thought it would be cool to smash a guitar? Nope.

Do you like watching a bonfire? I love bonfires.

Are you allergic to anything? Nickel and aspirin.

What is one thing you miss about your past? Not having to worry about bills or money or responsibilities.

Do you ever get flu shots? No.

Favorite shoes that you wear all the time? I practically live in Skechers for work as they’re so comfortable.

What is one thing you’ve learned about life recently? People are generally pretty decent, all things considered.

Are you jealous of anyone? Not really.

Is anyone jealous of you? A lot of people have said they’re jealous of what I do for a living. They probably wouldn’t feel like that if they joined me on a day where it was howling wind and pissing it down with rain lol.