#i love him <3 even though he told me i 'shld try winning for a change' b4 my round today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clvmtines · 3 years

Text

welcome aboard, clementine martinez, student #2. we are excited to set sail with you ! has anyone told you that you look like alexa demie? according to our records, you hail from florida, usa, prefer she / her pronouns, are a cis woman, and are here to study creative writing. we also see you received a spot on the ss university because of your online lottery win — we won’t tell anyone. during your first few weeks here, other students said you were + charming, + free-spirited, but also - restive. it sounds like you spend most of your time at the billiards room. upon checking your luggage, we noticed you packed a casino chip carried around for luck from home. hopefully your roommates don’t steal it!

hi friends! i’m very excited to be here. i’m jay (est, she/her) n i used to play astrid nyland a few months ago if anyone remembers bt i had to leave for personal reasons. i’m so glad to be back now that i hve life sorted and some free time for summer break <3 read on for some details abt this new muse of mine, clementine.

01. biography !

so ! clementine was born in florida. & yes, her real name is clementine. her mom thot it was the cutest name idea ever. clementine mostly goes by clem. she comes from the town [redacted] in florida bcoz i am too lazy to look up a specific town <3 but alas ! it was swampy and humid and she lived in a trailer park.

her parents got knocked up at nineteen. clem was born nine months after a particularly wild 1999 fourth of july. her birthday is march 26th and she’s an aries.

(TW: addiction, child injury) clem’s dad was a gambling addict and petty criminal—he wld steal credit cards n whatnot. he wld gamble away diaper money n it would cause constant fighting until her dad finally left. her mom took this very hard n began drinking a bit too often, leaving clem to to make cereal for dinner n fend for herself. once clem tried to make hot dogs on the stove and spilled boiling water on herself. got a p bad burn on her arm/shoulder and still has a big scar.

the soundtrack of her childhood was cicadas buzzing and stray dogs barking. the sizzle and pop of natty light cans. turning up her ipod to max volume to drown out the sounds of her mother fighting with her new boyfriend.

throughout her upbringing, clem’s dad was always in and out of the picture. he’d blow into town when he hit it big. he’d take her on these little “adventures” like staying in a motel 6 n renting movies at block buster n ordering good pizza nt the dominos shit she ate with her mom lol. ofc he was charging it all to someone’s stolen credit card. he’d always promise to, like, take clem away. n clem was a daddy’s girl so she believed him. the last time it happened was her h.s. graduation. her mom didn’t show ( "overslept” after a bender ) but her dad did and surprised her n said everything wld be different. bt then he bailed on their plans for the next day n when she called his cell, the number was disconnected. tht was the defining “i’m done” moment. clem promised to never be disappointed by her father again.

(TW: racism) her mother has mexican ancestry and clem’s always been called her twin. but clem was raised in a predominately white area and honestly ?? it was really hard without her even realizing it. she’s still unpacking a lot of things today abt her youth that jst weren’t okay bt she thought were normal. like microaggressions, stereotypes, being fetishized by boys in high school. gross shit.

as a kid, clem was rumored to be really poor bc she wore tattered clothes n got free lunch at school. once she invited a friend to her house & the next day they told everyone it’s in a trailer park. that reputation—the “trailer park girl”—was really hard to shake. and clem got almost desperate to shake it. she was endlessly trying to set her old self on fire and emerge from the ashes like a phoenix.

eventually clem became more “popular”. in school she was, like, a straight b student. very average although super creative and quick-thinking. she always had street smarts. problem solving skills. independence. more of, like, practical intelligence as opposed to book smarts because academia bores her tbh. she was like why am i reading these overrated boring books by dead white men or learning abt polynomials when i know nothing abt how to pay a mortage or do taxes. like...she saw the american education system as bullshit and put in modest effort because she didn’t believe it deserved her sweat and tears.

however, she entered the online lottery for the seas program on a whim and got in. so she’s studying creative writing now.

02. personality !

first thing you shld know abt clem is that she’s a compulsive liar essentially—she tells various stories to make her life seem better than what it was. to one person, she’s an heiress to a real estate company and grew up wealthy. to the next she was raised by nomadic hippies. some of her lies are small fibs while others are grandiose tales. she rarely talks about her actual upbringing. she hates talking abt her family or the v real trauma of growing up in a household where both parents struggled w/ addiction; the uncertainty, the broken promises, the fact that she had to grow up so soon and deal w/ so much. it wasn’t fair, and if she thinks about it too much, she feels this anger. anger at the universe. anger at her circumstances. she doesn’t know where to put this anger. she doesn’t know how to shrink it. so she avoids it.

despite her rough upbringing, though, clem is actually really sweet and kind. she’s adventurous, fun-loving, free-spirited, and bold.

bt ! she can also be closed-off, competitive and restive.

she’s seemingly tight with everyone? like she’s jst that girl who can get along with anyone tbh.

in her spare time you can catch her tanning by the pool, hanging at the bar, playing pool ( which she learned from her dad ), and socializing. she’ll never say no to hanging out with people.

she learned a lot from her little “adventures” with her dad, who was very good at conning others and often involved her in his dumb little scams. clem is suuuper good at pulling the ‘im baby 🥺’ card to get what she wants.

she can be a little selfish, because she grew up looking out for herself.

stubborn and dogmatic as hell !!!

she doesn’t do too many relationships but when she does fall, i imagine she falls hard and fast. she refuses to be made a fool of, tho. when she gets vulnerable she flashes back to being a kid, waiting all day for her dad to show up only to have him bail on her. again. she hates that feeling. so if she, like, senses a shift in someone’s energy she’ll b like, “i’ll break up with u before u can do it to me” and the person wasn’t even tryna dump her lmao.

has a lot of sex. too much ?? sex?? mayb. but she’s v sex positive.

her personal style is v late 90s. hair clips, big scrunchies, neon, fur trim, crop and tube tops, hoop earrings, chokers, patterns, platform shoes, biodegradable glitter cuz it’s good fr the earth *winks*. clothes from o-mighty.......actually jst google o mighty, pull up the images and That is clem. she dresses like a bratz doll. she’s dedicated to the aesthetic.

03. headcanons !

her item brought from home is a hot pink poker chip from a casino. her dad gave it to her. he said it reminded him of her because of the color; he got it during one of his winning streaks and said it was lucky. she has a complicated relationship w/ her dad n doesn’t even speak to him anymore, bt she will never go anywhere without it.

she’s a smol bean—only 5′4

an astrology girl and she reads palms ! she absolutely makes astrology tik toks that people only watch because she’s hot. her flirting technique is to ask you to read your palm.

she doesn’t typically drink to get drunk. but she does love a good sugary cocktail. to her, a drink is like an accessory. a blue fishbowl by the pool, a jack and coke as she stands around a bar. usually she'll nurse the same beverage for a while. if you see her wasted it usually means she’s going thru it emotionally lol. the one thing she does do is drugs tho

pretty much listens to exclusively female artists.

a bit of an activist. environmentalism, feminism and the like, she’s v outspoken. vegan for ethical reasons (TW: drugs) bt still does cocaine. she wears shirts with ‘my pussy my choice’ bedazzled on the front.

loves to rollerblade ! back home she didn’t have a car so she’d bike or rollerblade. now she still has her blades and she’ll use them when the ship docks.

03. wanted connections !

Friends, bffs, ride or dies, friends who are like siblings to her, maybe a friend with an unrequited crush on either side ??

an ex she dumped/cheated on/otherwise self sabotaged their relationship because she was afraid of vulnerability.

an ex friend who realized she lies a lot abt herself n felt betrayed. OH ! ESP if they opened up to her on many occasions abt intimate, personal stuff. imagine the betrayal they felt when they found that everything they thought they knew abt clem is a lie.

someone who she actually opens up to. a confidant. or, maybe, like, a stranger she drunkenly spilled her soul to and now she avoids them like the plague.

a rival. clem can be competitive.

her drug dealer

someone she knows she shouldn’t hook up with and… does it anyways. like a friend’s ex or smthing. spicy <3

i welcome anything !

#seasintro #addiction tw #alcohol tw #drugs tw

18 notes · View notes

linskywords · 5 years

Text

1M Words Week: Hallsy/Ebs

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Aaah, I love these two. Here’s an opening of a story I started in the spring of 2018 when Hallsy was having his Hart-winning season. Should really finish this at some point -- that season deserved it!

Note that, of course, this is NOT finished. It would not end here!

It’s just a dumb bet.

Not even a bet. It was just a thing Ebs said once, at the end of their second season together. Whits had gone out and left two six-packs in the fridge, and like, they weren’t going to not make him regret that, and also they’d just missed the playoffs again, so they got super drunk and lay around on the couch talking about Ebs’ thirty-four-goal season.

“It was sick, man, sick,” Taylor kept saying, and Ebs kept laughing and betting Taylor stupid things, like which of them could stack more beer bottles on top of each other, except neither of them could stack any because they were drunk.

“I’ll, like, never score that many goals,” Taylor said, and Ebs, because he was an awesome bro, said, “Yeah, you will, of course you will,” and Taylor said, “But, like, it’s hard,” meaning goals and, like, everything else, and Ebs said, “It’s not hard, you just need the right incentive.”

“What do you mean, incentive?” Taylor asked. Words were hard when you were that drunk.

Ebs rolled an empty beer bottle across the floor toward him. “You know. Incentive. Maybe you don’t have the right one yet. Like…like, you get thirty goals in one season, and I’ll blow you.”

Taylors jaw dropped open. “You would not,” he said after like thirty seconds of not being able to speak.

“’Course not.” And then, just as Taylor’s heart was going back to its normal speed: “’Cause you’ll never get thirty goals,” Ebs said, and he was off, cackling like a maniac.

“Oh, fuck you!” Taylor said, and then they wrestled for a while so that when Whits came home the floor was strewn with empty beer bottles and puddles from the ones they hadn’t quite finished.

So it wasn’t even a real bet. Just a thing Ebs said that one time, when they were practically kids. And, okay, maybe Taylor thought about it a few times in the years after that, like when he was jerking off sometimes, but that was before Ebs moved out to be with Lauren. And then Taylor got traded and Ebs got engaged and Ebs got traded and Ebs got married and everything’s different now.

And then Taylor gets thirty goals.

***

He’s not gonna lie and say it doesn’t go through his head after the game. He’s talking to the media, and it sucks because they lost, but still, thirty goals, that’s awesome, yeah, he’s happy to be able to contribute to the team as much as he can, no, he didn’t quite see himself here last season, but it’s something he’s always wanted—and it crosses his mind, just a blip, that conversation with Ebs. Not enough for him to still be thinking about it a minute later.

He thinks about it again, though, when he gets the text from Ebs. Everyone and their mom is texting him tonight—literally: he hears from Ebs’ mom and Davo’s mom and Nico’s mom and his own, obviously, and Ebs’ text is in the mix, just a WOOOOOT with random emojis that Taylor thinks are probably trying to be vaguely insulting. Then Ebs texts him again that night when he’s going to bed, when everything’s calmed down: we shld have hallsyebs day soon! to celebrate, and Taylor starts typing back something about his schedule, and then it hits him like a bolt of lightning or whatever—what if Ebs remembers?

There’s no way that’s what he’s saying. Ebs isn’t, like, lying in bed with fucking Lauren on the other pillow (the left one; Ebs is always on the right) texting Taylor to meet up for a blow job. Or—on the road; Taylor’s pretty sure the Isles are traveling right now. But still. Taylor’s been on enough road trips with Ebs to know that he doesn’t sneak around. The only times Taylor ever saw Ebs hook up was when he and Lauren were off-again. And maybe there were hookups Taylor didn’t know about—Ebs definitely didn’t know about a whole bunch of his hookups—but Taylor doesn’t think so. Ebs doesn’t like secrets.

So he texts Ebs his availability, even though probably they won’t have time for anything until the off-season anyway. He likes that Ebs wanted to, though. They used to have HallsyEbs days sometimes in Edmonton, after Ebs moved out and they didn’t see each other much outside the rink and Ebs said he didn’t want Taylor to pine for him or whatever so he’d come over and play video games and eat ice cream and other stuff Lauren probably didn’t like as much. Sometimes Ebs would be quiet at first, and Taylor would ask if he and Lauren were fighting, and Ebs would say no. Then after a while he’d tell Taylor all about it: how she wasn’t speaking to him, or how she was really great but he just wasn’t sure, and Taylor would make encouraging noises. Then a few days later he’d show up in the locker room all smiles at tell Taylor that Lauren said to thank him for whatever he’d said, that it had really helped, even though Taylor never said all that much. He was never surprised that Lauren knew they’d talked about it, though. Ebs really hated secrets.

Taylor doesn’t hear as much about their fights this year, if they’re having any. He and Ebs text a lot but it’s mostly about hockey shit. Ebs called him when he got traded, and they were both really excited to be in the same part of the country, but they don’t actually see each other aside from games. NHL schedules.

Which is why Taylor’s not surprised when it turns out they don’t have any overlapping availability before their game against each other on the thirty-first. that super sucks, Ebs texts. But they decide that Ebs will stay over at Taylor’s that night, since the Devils aren’t flying to Montreal until the next day, and Ebs sends him a text that’s ninety percent ice cream emojis. Taylor’s grinning when he falls asleep.

He’s super not expecting anything at all. He and Ebs have hung out after a bunch of games this year, and it’s great to catch up and shit, but it’s also super different. Before when they hung out at a bar or whatever it felt like of like Ebs was an extension of himself: like there were all the other guys, and then there was him and Ebs, operating on a different level. Even after Ebs moved out it felt like that. Now it’s more like a normal friend he doesn’t see very often. Like, it’s Ebs, so it’s still better, but…not the same.

So he’s, like, a little more excited about this time, but not really. Not a lot.

The Devils kill the Isles, obviously, and Ebs looks really bummed but still gives Taylor a patented Ebby hug when they meet up downstairs. Those haven’t changed. Ebs has always been really good at hugging: he, like, makes your body his own and just wraps himself around it and lots of hockey guys are strong but most of them don’t really apply themselves to hugs like Ebby does. Sometimes Taylor thinks Ebs is giving him new bruises, but it’s always worth it.

“Ice cream?” Ebs says, and he sounds really hopeful about it. Like Taylor would ever say no.

“Let me check what’s open,” he says, thumbing at his phone like he didn’t already look.

They end up at a Baskin Robbins that’s walking distance from the arena. “I don’t know, is this safe?” Ebs asks, smirking.

Taylor jostles him with his shoulder. “Newark is, like, just as safe as New York City.”

“Um, I play in Brooklyn,” Ebs says. “I don’t know what you get up to in your big cities. With your drugs and your violence and your—”

“You got checked by two-hundred-pound guys carrying sticks tonight,” Taylor says.

“Yeah, and some of them were you,” Ebs says, narrowing his eyes, and then they’re the ones who are dangers to the passers-by, trying to knock each other down on the sidewalk.

It’s really good. It feels more like old times than it has in a while. Maybe because they’re eating ice cream on dinky little chairs, measuring to see who ended up with more. Ebs gets black raspberry, which is heresy, but he still lets Taylor have a taste. It’s actually not bad.

They’re having such a good time that Taylor doesn’t even think about the thing, which is how it used to be, too: mostly he’d think about Ebs that way when Ebs wasn’t there. It felt safer that way. When he was with Ebs he was busy being with Ebs, and if he wanted to be with him more and in other ways it was easy to squash it down and distract himself with the Ebs who was right in front of him. It was only be later when he was alone that he would shiver and feel sick with how much he wanted the rest of it.

They finish the ice cream before the Baskin Robbins closes at eleven and walk back to Taylor’s car, Ebs asking him if he feels good to drive, he did have a lot of chocolate sprinkles, and Taylor asking him if he’s cold, does he need an extra bunnyhug to put on, and then Ebs trying to dunk him in a trash can. They’re a little quieter in the car: the sugar rush wearing off, the game weariness setting in. Taylor finds his left leg jiggling against the wheel as he drives.

“Guest room made up?” Ebs asks as they go into the condo.

“Yeah,” Taylor says, and maybe it’s the last of the sugar crash, but this weird flat feeling spreads over him: that’s it, end of night. But Ebs doesn’t go into the guest room. He collapses on the living room couch.

Taylor goes over and kicks at his legs a little, and Ebs looks sleepily up at him. “Too tired. Can’t go to bed.”

“Too tired from losing,” Taylor says.

“You got me.” Ebs blinks in a way that really does look tired. Like, he kind of always looks sleepy, but Taylor knows the difference. “You did good,” Ebs says, his voice low.

The words make a little ping inside Taylor. A lot of people have told him he’s done good lately. He had a twenty-eight game point streak—or, okay, twenty-one, if you consult the official NHL stats. He got his team into the playoffs for the first time in his NHL career. He should be used to hearing it. “Yeah?” he says anyway.

Ebs snorts. “Thirty goals. You know you did good.”

“Thirty-five,” Taylor reminds him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ebs says. “You beat me,” and Taylor suddenly can’t quite look at him, can’t look away, because he’s wondering if Ebs remembers it. That conversation.

“Damn right I did,” he says, words not quite traveling through his brain, because his brain is totally fuzzed out. His brain is focused on how Ebs is sprawled out, how Taylor’s standing in front of him, how if Ebs were to sit up his mouth would be right—

Ebs keeps looking up at him with sleepy eyes. His foot nudges Taylor’s ankle, and the touch fizzes up Taylor’s leg. “You gonna make it to forty?”

His foot is still there, resting against Taylor’s ankle. “We only have four games left.”

“What, not up for it?” Ebs asks, smirking, and Taylor wants to—

It’s been ages since he’s felt like this: so fucked up his nerve endings aren’t connected right and keep sending little shocky bursts all over his body. He wants to fall onto Ebs and kiss the smirk off his lips.

He can feel his face getting hot, because he doesn’t do this anymore, doesn’t feel it like this. Ebs probably doesn’t even notice. His eyes are blinking sleepily, more closed than open.

“You can’t sleep here,” Taylor says. “You’ll fuck up your back.”

Ebs holds his hands out to him, and for a second Taylor thinks—but no, Ebs is asking for a hand up, wants Taylor to pull him to his feet. Taylor does, bracing and feeling his sore muscles stretch themselves a little, and then Ebs is on his feet, his hands warm in Taylor’s for a second before he lets go.

Once he does, he’s still really close, listing a little, eyes at half mast. His face is inches away. Taylor would just have to lean down an inch or two to—

Ebs smacks him in the stomach with the back of his hand. “’Snot as good as our old couch,” he says.

“Obviously not,” Taylor says. His voice sounds funny to his own ears. Kind of low and rough.

“We gotta do this more,” Ebs says. “Make time for it. We’re only like, what, an hour away? Gotta hang out more.”

“Okay,” Taylor says. He doesn’t know if Ebs really means it. Not enough to carry through with it, maybe, when there’s hockey and travel and Lauren. He wants to think he does.

Ebs steps away a few inches and takes some of the heat in the room with him. “Feels like old times,” he says. “Going off to our rooms.”

“Yeah,” Taylor says. It does. He never got what he wanted then, either.

#and then...#i will have to write it to find out #1m words week #taylor hall #jordan eberle #hockey rpf

18 notes · View notes