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jokeroutsubs · 2 months ago

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[ENG SUB + Article Translation] Delo's Personality of the Year Bojan Cvjetićanin: They sing Slovene in Dublin because of him

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Bojan Cvjetićanin: They sing Slovene in Dublin because of him

The frontman of the band Joker Out, Bojan Cvjetićanin, is a candidate for Delo's Personality of the Year. The energetic singer and talented lyricist remains grounded despite his popularity.

Original article written by Urša Izgoršek for Delo. English translation by @kurooscoffee and a member of JokerOutSubs, proofread by @flowerlotus8

All ten nominees are listed in this article.

Full article below the cut.

Delo's Personality of the Year

Bojan Cvjetićanin: They sing Slovene in Dublin because of him

PHOTO: Bojan Cvjetićanin says that his generation faces many unresolved questions that cause anxiety. PHOTO: Črt Piksi

The frontman of the band Joker Out, Bojan Cvjetićanin, is a candidate for Delo's Personality of the Year. The energetic singer and talented lyricist remains grounded despite his popularity.

With Joker Out, Cvjetićanin has achieved incredible popularity on the European music scene, surpassing any other Slovenian pop or rock band to date. They've exceeded their own dreams and broken language barriers, with fans singing along in Slovenian wherever they perform, from Dublin to Milan and Oslo. As an energetic singer and gifted songwriter, Bojan represents a voice for the young generation, which is declaring that their time is coming: The game of hatred is your thing, thank you very much, don't count on us.

The 25-year-old musician, along with his bandmates Jure Maček, Kris Guštin, Jan Peteh, and Nace Jordan, has risen to stardom in just over two years while staying firmly grounded. "Sometimes even we ask ourselves how we manage it. We talk a lot with our producer Žare Pak, who we could call our sixth member. I think I, as well as the others in the band, have normal life habits. None of us is prone to any excesses, so we don't have to hold ourselves back in that sense. I live the way I have always lived, basically," says Bojan Cvjetićanin, who recently told Vikend magazine that he is glad that sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll are not the guiding principles of their band. Joker Out is driven forward primarily by the enjoyment of performing on stage, meeting new people, and creativity.

What Bojan enjoys writing about the most is love, and he uses this emotion to describe the relationships within the group, too. "It's a partnership between five people, which is very complex. We spend a lot of time together, know each other well, and have learned when not to push certain buttons or when to offer someone a shoulder—not to cry on, but to vent." However, he also says there is nothing wrong with men showing emotions.

We briefly met with Bojan at Kino Šiška the day after returning from a concert in Zagreb and before heading to Maribor and Vienna, where Joker Out had two more sold-out concerts. That evening, when he could have taken a breather, Bojan also took the time to perform with the Police Orchestra at a concert titled Slovenia Breathes 0.0, because he likes to support causes he finds important.

One such cause was a concert aimed at improving the treatment of women with gynecological cancer. Cvjetićanin is compelling on stage and also when he talks about always adhering to the 0.0 rule behind the wheel. "My parents instilled in me the mindset that you don’t want to carry the weight of something going wrong because of one beer. I always called a taxi since I know people who have been deeply affected by the reckless actions of drunk drivers."

Life Motto: Do what you believe in, and trust the people you love.

The verse written in the introduction is from their hit 'Carpe Diem', with which they performed at Eurovision, and the song contains another meaningful thought: "We'll dance all night long/We'll love each other and play/As if we'll be gone tomorrow" Young people face an uncertain future, and Bojan says his generation has many worries due to rapid changes.

"We are confronted with many unresolved questions, more than ever before. They create unease, anxiety, and I think all of this can be felt. On the other hand, young people are treated as fully responsible global citizens, yet youth is often mentioned in a derogatory sense, as if it’s not yet our time to get involved in what's happening and we should just wait a little longer."

He never considered building a career outside Slovenia:"I always imagined a musician's life in the style of Tomi Meglič. Tomi was my alpha and omega. Only later, when I started writing in my mother tongue, Serbian, I began to think about the possibility of performing in the former Yugoslav region. As a teenager, my dreams were limited to Slovenia, and even that would've been more than enough for me," says the musician, who's grateful for the safety and many other aspects of living in Slovenia.

However, it seems that audiences abroad want to keep listening to them, and on their brand-new album 'Souvenir Pop', Bojan sings in three languages: Slovenian, Serbian, and English.

Žare Pak, producer of the band Joker Out

Žare Pak PHOTO: Jože Suhadolnik

I met Bojan Cvjetićanin five or six years ago when we were working on the song 'Gola'. For about three months, I put him through a vocal "torture", but I knew we could make something out of this boy. He is completely devoted to music, it’s in his blood, and he’s a great creator.

I see him the way most people who like him see him: he doesn’t act. He’d rather focus on discovering himself than playing a role. He's a very good person and also very intelligent. His charisma is connected to this.

Sometimes I tell him: Lucky you, whatever you do, even if it's wrong, you’ll fix it with this smile of yours. His smile is a powerful weapon. What’s amazing about Bojan is that he can make everyone feel like he has a personal relationship with them. When he’s on stage, everyone in the audience feels like he’s singing just for them. But that’s who he is. And because of people like Bojan, I’m happy to be in this profession.

#joker out #jokeroutsubs #bojan cvjetićanin #žare pak #delo #jo: bojan solo #source: delo #year: 2024 #og language: slovenian #type: article

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malk1ns · 24 days ago

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january 20 @ kings, 5-1 win

oh sidney. do you know you make this face literally whenever someone brings geno up around you?

There’s nothing better than a solid victory in Los Angeles.

Sid doesn’t have anything in particular against the Kings. He gets along well enough with Kopitar, and the teams barely see each other. There’s a little residual rivalry left over from when they were two of the three teams battling for dominance a few years ago, but Sid’s pretty confident that the Penguins won that particular fight, and it’s not like the Kings have had any run of sustained success since their Cup wins, so for the most part these games register pretty low on his give-a-shit meter.

There was that time he got kicked out, but that was the refs more than anything, and Sid’s over that anyway. Mostly.

One of the perks of winning as much as he has is the league usually tries to give the Penguins some cushion on their California swing. They usually get at least one day totally off where they can go to the beach, and even though the travel this season was less than ideal, there’s not much better than punching out a solid win against a good team and stepping out of the arena to balmy, comfortable weather in the middle of January.

The team always hits up the same bar when they’re in LA, a place they’ve been going since before Sid’s rookie year. It’s not as glittery and exciting as some of the options, but it’s also not as crowded, and the staff is much more willing to deal with twenty-odd hockey players drinking too much and being too loud than some of the celebrity haunts would be.

Plus, the girls that show up at this bar are looking for them. Sid’s watched a lot of his teammates strike out with Hollywood-level girls over the years when they’re on this trip, but not here—if there’s a group of girls dressed up by the bar, they know the Penguins are in town and are looking for hockey players to chat up.

It means everyone takes a little more time in the locker room after they shower, even though nobody will admit to it. Instead of raggedy sweats and haphazard home clothes, guys are putting on nice shirts with jeans, and Picks is at the mirror poking at his hair with a frown, ignoring the chirps Bunts is directing his way.

The rest of the mirror, of course, is taken up by Gena.

Sid takes a break from his phone to look her over. Her jeans look like they’re painted on, but that’s nothing new for her—the real indicator that they’re about to go out in LA is her top, which is so skimpy and low-cut that Sid wonders if technically it qualifies as lingerie.

Scratch that—he’s seen her lingerie. She wouldn’t be allowed out in public in that.

“Hey, Mr. Multi-point,” comes Haysey’s voice from across the room. “Told you about the mustaches, yeah? Good game, bud.”

Sid preens. The media’s gone, there’s no reason for him to play at modesty anymore. He had a fucking good game tonight.

He’s not the only one.

Kris whistles loud and sharp when Gena stomps out into the change room. “Damn,” he hollers, and she points her eyelash curler at him threateningly.

Rusty coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like MILF, and Gena whirls around to stab her manicured nail in his direction, eyes narrowed. One side of her mouth is ticking up, though; she plays along like the boys expect her to, but she likes the attention, always has.

Sid stays quiet, but makes sure she sees the once-over he gives her. She rolls her eyes, but Sid catches the blush at the back of her neck when she bends down to cram her cosmetics back into her travel bag.

“Alright, guys,” Sid says, getting up and rapping on his stall. “The cars are waiting for us. If you want to go home early you’ll have to call yourself, otherwise they’re coming back to pick us up at 2. Tomorrow’s an off-day, but try to get to the gym even if you don’t do anything else, yeah?” There’s a chorus of agreement as everyone gets to their feet and makes for the door.

Sid catches Gena’s arm before she can slip past him. “You look hot,” he murmurs into her ear, smiling when she shivers a little. “Wanna skip the bar, go back to my room?”

Gena sniffs haughtily at him. “Not that easy, Crosby, even for big-shot hockey star with mustache,” she sneers, shaking free.

She is that easy, and they both know it. Sid doesn’t mind playing along, though.

At the bar, Sid snags a drink and settles himself at the bar, keeping an eye on his team.

Some of the married guys are at a booth in the corner, the table covered in pitchers and a deck of cards out. The rest of the team is spread across the bar in smaller groups; some of them are already chatting with girls.

Gena flits from cluster to cluster like always, dispensing shots and bullying everyone into taking at least one. She drapes herself all over Tommer and coos at him about his setup for her goal earlier. Poor Tommer looks turned on and vaguely terrified, and when she drags him out onto the dance floor, he keeps looking over at Sid like he’s about to get in trouble.

Sid just smiles down at his drink. Gena does what she wants, but she always comes back to him.

He passes the time chatting up a pair of blondes that claim the barstools next to him, refilling their drinks and pretending to be too polite to stare down their shirts whenever they lean close to him. They’re nice enough, and once upon a time Sid might have taken them up on what they’re dangling in front of him, but he’s got something better on offer these days, and if he knows her she’ll be getting bored soon.

Right on schedule, Gena’s perfume fills his nostrils a second before she plasters herself to his side. “Fuck off now,” she says sweetly, resting her left hand showily on Sid’s chest and baring her teeth at the girls.

The diamond Sid put there a few months ago is big enough blind even the most enterprising puck bunnies, so they scatter, and Sid laughs, holding up his glass of whisky and tipping it into her mouth when she makes a grabby hand at it. “You could be nicer,” he says.

“No,” she says breezily, sliding onto one of the abandoned bar stools and leaning forward. She’s not wearing a bra, and Sid eyes her nipples. “You have fun?”

Sid shrugs, pushing his glass over and letting her finish it. He watches her throat work as she swallows. Her lips are wet when she sets the glass on the bar top. “Passing the time,” he says, angling them so he’s got one knee in between Gena’s legs. “Thought more about what I suggested before?”

“Hmm,” Gena pretends to think, but Sid knows her, and he’s already on his feet and pulling out his phone to call for a car.

The drive back to the hotel is pretty short, another reason they go to this bar, and Gena’s in his lap for most of it. Sid barely got the partition up before she was straddling him, and he spends most of the short ride with her tongue down his throat and his hands on her ass.

Sid maybe had an idea of what they’d do tonight. He’s feeling himself after the game, and he knows how Gena usually gets when his hockey fires her up. When they get to the hotel room, though, instead of crawling onto the mattress and dropping to her elbows, Gena pushes Sid towards the bathroom.

“You go shower,” she orders, ignoring Sid’s protest. “Smell like bar, other girls.”

Sid knows better than to argue with one of her whims, so he’s dutifully heading into the bathroom when she speaks again. “Sid? Make sure you do good job.”

His whole body flushes hot and he whirls around to stare at her. She raises an eyebrow challengingly at him.

“Yeah?” he says, voice embarrassingly high. “Yeah. Fuck yeah. Okay.”

He almost drops the soap repeatedly in the shower, but he does what he’s told, scrubbing at his arms and making sure he’s clean. He dries off thoroughly, staring at himself in the mirror.

When he steps out of the bathroom, Gena’s kicked off her jeans and is lying on the bed with her legs spread, touching herself over her panties.

“Shit,” Sid says, pausing to admire the view. She’s got her eyes closed, but she knows he’s watching—she bites her lip and arches her back a little, letting out a breathy moan as she circles her thumb over her clit. “Damn, baby, you want help with that?”

Gena snorts, pulling her hand back and opening her eyes. “I do best myself,” she informs him, and Sid would protest, but he’s really horny now, and he doesn’t want to make her mad. “You come here.” She crooks her finger at him, and Sid practically trips in his haste to make his way to her.

Gena pulls him down on top of her, wrapping her legs around his naked body and arching into him. Her pussy is hot, he can feel even through her underwear, and he groans, thrusting his dick against the fabric. He’d give almost anything to be in that right now.

She can tell what he’s thinking, she always can, so before Sid can reach down and try to coax her into changing their plans she flips them, sending Sid onto his back with a little grunt that’s way hotter than it probably should be considering Sid hears it hundreds of times a day during practices and games. It’s hard not to find everything she does sexy, though, especially when she’s on top of him, reaching back to undo her top and tossing it aside carelessly.

Gena’s got great tits. They’re not huge, but they’re round and soft and perky, with pink nipples that make her whimper when Sid sucks on them. She usually wears a sports bra when they’re just kicking around the house, but her go-to shirts are all low-cut, and Sid always enjoys it when he catches other guys getting an eyeful. Lots of people look, but only he gets to touch now.

He reaches up to do just that now, cupping her breasts in his hands and squeezing. Gena arches into his touch and grinds down on his dick.

The cotton of her panties is rough, but she’s wet through them, and Sid lets his hands drift down her sides, gripping at her hips and pulling her down against him.

“You want?” Gena asks, and Sid nods. He doesn’t know what exactly she’s asking, but he wants it, whatever she wants to do.

Gena bends down and kisses him hard, too much spit and teeth and leaving him gasping for air when she pulls back and wiggles down his body.

He groans when she licks along his dick, shifting and spreading his legs to make room when he hears the click of the lube being uncapped.

Gena’s not gentle with him when they do this. She doesn’t ease him in, doesn’t let him adjust; it’s two slender fingers prodding at his hole right away as she takes his dick into her mouth, sliding in and going for his prostate without even a second for Sid to catch his breath.

The first few times they did this, they moved to the main event too fast. It wasn’t something Sid ever really thought about trying until Gena sat him down one day and bluntly told him she was interested in fucking him. Sid’s made a habit of going along with what Gena wants, so he’d agreed, but he gets tense, nervous even when she’s making him feel good this way, and they’d had to stop entirely those first attempts.

Through trial and error, they discovered that Sid goes down sweeter for Gena if he’s come first. And Gena’s favorite way to make him come is sucking him off. Like Sid’s going to complain.

He cranes his neck to watch, reaching down to gather an errant strand of hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear. He’s rewarded with a particularly hard press on his prostate, and he groans, arching his back and closing his eyes.

Gena knows all the buttons to press now, when to lap at his head and when to suck hard and scrape his shaft with her teeth to bring him up to the edge fast. She doesn’t let him come until she’s got three fingers in him, pumping in and out too fast and too hard as she takes his dick down her throat and swallows repeatedly until Sid comes with a shout.

He watches blearily as she clambers off the bed and darts to her suitcase, tossing fabric aside until she comes up with her harness and a slim box.

The harness looks like a jock, and Sid’s soft dick kicks painfully when he watches her step into it. The straps frame her ass and the black stands out against her skin like something out of locker room porn.

Sid knows that the toy Gena likes to use on him isn’t very big, comparatively speaking. They don’t do this a ton, though, not enough for Sid to get used to it, so it always feels huge inside him. Gena likes this one because it’s got a ridge that she can rub herself against when she’s fucking him, and Sid likes it because it bends, and Gena always makes sure it’s getting him right.

“Roll over,” Gena orders, stroking her hand over the toy as she walks back to the bed. Sid thrashes against the bedsheets to turn onto his stomach, barely remembering to grab a pillow and shove it under his hips.

He tenses when Gena slaps his ass, taking a deep breath and consciously making an effort to relax.

“So hot,” Gena croons, kneeling between his spread legs and spreading him open. Sid can feel the back of his neck turn red at her attention. “So good for me, котенок. Gonna take my dick? Best hockey player in the world, scores a goal and wins the game, and then comes home and lets his wife fuck him into bed.”

The word wife curls in her mouth like it’s something profane, and Sid arches his back, rutting his hips forward into the pillow even though it’s too soon, it hurts. He needs something, anything.

Gena doesn’t make him wait. Pressing her hand firmly to his lower back, she slowly opens him up on her dick, pushing into him until she’s fully seated even as Sid squirms and thrashes against it.

The toy inside him is foreign and unyielding, and Sid breathes around it, clenching and relaxing as he adjusts.

He can feel Gena rocking back and forth, grinding down into him even as she gives him a few seconds to get used to how it feels. “Okay,” Sid finally manages, and he gasps when she curls over him, braces her hands against his shoulders, and starts fucking him in earnest.

Sid gets loud when they do this. He spares a moment to be glad they left the bar early, because the last time Gena fucked him on a roadie Kris didn’t let him hear the end of it for weeks. He can’t help it, though—the way her tits brush against his back, her heavy breathing in his ear, the way she moans as she forces him to take it harder, just the way she likes it, it makes him lose control.

“G,” he begs. He’s half out of his mind, doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, but she does, changing the angle just enough that she’s hitting his prostate with every stroke now.

She’s so good at this. Sid wonders what they look like, if watching this back would get him as hot as actually letting her do this to him does.

“Oh god,” he whimpers, squirming and humping against the pillow. He’s not even close to hard again, but he can feel it anyway, heat building in his stomach and thighs tingling.

When he comes for the second time, it’s drawn-out and almost painful, an endless roll of sensation as Gena pants into his ear and grinds her dick into him. She’s not even thrusting anymore, just humping into him, faster and faster as she chases her own orgasm.

“Baby,” Sid gasps, flailing an arm back and grabbing at her thigh, the first thing he can reach. “G, god, so good, please, can I—”

He wants to get her on her back and eat her out until she comes. There’s not much that Sid likes more than Gena’s legs squeezing around his head as he drowns himself in her scent and taste. He could spend hours down there; sometimes he does when they’re on vacation and Gena lets herself relax.

That’s not what she wants tonight, though; she’s holding him down, pressing heavy into his back as she grunts over him. It’s a primal, unselfconscious sound, and if Sid hadn’t just come two times in short succession, he thinks he could maybe get off just listening to her chase her pleasure without worrying what she looks or sounds like.

When she comes Gena sighs sweetly into Sid’s ear, slumping against his back for a second before sitting up to slowly pull out. Sid winces but holds still, and it’s over quickly.

He lets Gena fuss over him after, wiping off the lube with a damp washcloth and arranging them on the bed so she’s half-draped over his chest, humming to herself and tracing patterns on his stomach.

The ring on her finger winks reflections from the bedside lamp around the room. Sid catches her hand with his and folds their fingers together, inspecting the diamond.

It’s a nice ring. Sid had it custom-designed for her, sending the jeweler a collection of pictures he’d saved down from the Pinterest account she thinks he doesn’t know about. Slipping it onto her finger was the proudest moment of his life, even better than the three Stanley Cup rings they’ve already given each other.

He thinks back to when she called herself his wife earlier, heat curling in his stomach. He’d been worried, not that he’d ever admit it—they were on and off for so long before he finally stopped fucking around and locked her down before she came to her senses and found someone better, and there’s been a part of him that was worried that getting married would be too much, a level of commitment he wasn’t capable of.

Now, though, he can’t wait. They’ve been arguing lightheartedly about when to have the ceremony, this offseason or next, and suddenly Sid wants to jump out of bed, drive them to Vegas, and get the deed done now.

Gena rubs her cheek against his pec. Her hair is itchy against his skin, and Sid’s left arm is starting to go numb where she’s partially lying on it.

He never wants to move.

#sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic #24-25 series #spent the evening finish this instead of watching whatever the hell they're doing in anaheim smh

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