If I had an nickel for everytime Max Caulfield had to solve and prevent the murder of a close friend I would have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it is sad and weird that it happened twice.
20 + chasefield (i think that's their ship name?) for the fic ask game!
i whipped this up in about an hour and i really had fun with it! alt timeline chasefield my beloved <3
“Don’t lie to me.”
Victoria feels her insides curdle at the words. It’s a two-tone feeling composed of the dread of being seen right through and that nervousness she always feels when she hears Maxine talk like that, words honeyed and dripping with smugness. Maxine is always like that around her, wearing the grin of someone who knows something you don’t. It’s infuriating.
She meets that familiar mocking smile on Maxine’s face with her signature annoyed glare that usually makes people shrink away from her. It’s a good attempt, but she knows right away that the heat she feels rising in her cheeks ruins the image. Something like that won’t just slip by Maxine's radar.
Maxine confirms her fears as she leans in closer, ignoring her expression, placing her hands on Victoria’s desk as she shrinks the distance between them, and drops her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “I actually think it’s cute that you care so much. It means you’re passionate.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Max—” Victoria relishes the brief flicker that mars the teasing smile, a small victory, the crack in that frustratingly pretty and freckled veneer—“because I couldn’t care less. It’s one contest.” She curls her lip. “If you think winning once is any sort of proof that you’re the better one out the two of us, then you’re dreaming.”
She doesn’t know why Maxine’s such a weirdo about getting her name shortened, but it’s the only weak spot that the girl has which she knows about. Victoria hates having to rely on it for that reason: using it is always a cheap shot, a fallback for when she has nothing else. Cutting words have always come easy to her but there’s something about Maxine that makes her falter, forcing her to either stay silent or risk stumbling over her words in front of the one person who’s unafraid of capitalising on the opportunity.
The flicker of annoyance passes and Maxine gets that fucking look on her face. That thing she does whenever she’s about to take a picture where she widens her eyes slightly and suddenly becomes so present, when the blue of her irises turns a striking shade and her gaze threatens to pierce through whatever she’s focused on. This time Victoria is the subject of her unadulterated attention, and there’s no camera in her hands to obscure the intensity of her expression.
“I never said I thought I was the better one, Tori.” She tilts her head and frowns, a crease forming between her eyebrows. Her voice takes on a new quality. She still sounds smug, unbearably so, but that ever present rasp makes itself known a lot more keenly and it is the exact opposite of what Victoria needs to hear right now. “If that’s what you’re really scared of… I could always partner up with you and show you a few techniques? You have a good eye for detail, but sometimes you miss out on giving your framing a little personal touch, you know?”
Fuck. She’s talking about photography. Don’t fucking go there, you perv.
“You know where to find me. Just drop by after classes today.” She pauses, uncomfortably close to Victoria, and her words take on an entirely new meaning when her voice drops even lower and becomes a breathy whisper that completely changes the mood of the conversation. “Consider it.”
Those two words ring in Victoria’s ears as Maxine walks away before she can muster a reply, and continue to do so for the rest of the lesson. And the next.
Consider it.
They’re on her mind when she knocks on Maxine’s door, two hours after the last class of the day, and gets pulled inside by her wrist. She learns a few things that night, none of which involve using a camera.
Some Maximum Victory for today’s Shiptober prompt: Selfie.
[Image ID: Digital drawing of a polaroid photo of Victoria Chase and Max Caulfield from Life is Strange. Victoria is faced toward the camera and is rolling her eyes, reluctantly smiling and blushing. Max is in profile, kissing Victoria’s cheek and cupping Victoria’s jaw in her palm. Max is wearing a gray hoodie and pink nail polish that matches Victoria’s pink cardigan.]
This is an old work I forgot I was writing back in 2016, which takes place in the Love is Strange Visual Novel universe. It's Chasefield because I'm me. I want to post this now, because I'd rather share it than let it languish in my drive.
The sky above the beach is now a deep navy with stripe of dying orange at the horizon, but according to this photo, it’s just black with a red smear.
“Shit, I wasted film.”
Victoria laughs as she crouches and aims her lens at the sea. Her shutter clicks a few times. “There’s an answer to your problem, but I’ve said it so many times I don’t feel like saying it again.” she says.
She’s not wrong - she has told me that many times before. I’m still keeping my Polaroids. I see her grin become a frown as she looks at her camera screen. She mouths the word “fuck” and I tap her shoulder.
“What’s that about digital being superior again?” Even in the darkness her eyes can be piercing. She stands up, a little taller than usual, and walks back to the logs we left our stuff by. The rolled cuffs of her jeans flirt with the sand with every step.
“Photoshoot’s over.”
She packs up her camera and lens carefully into her case. I shut my camera and find a spot big enough to fit it in my bag. Victoria starts walking, case in hand, to her car parked nearby.
“Now it’s time for our date, right?” Her hand is on the handle of the trunk.
“Like I said, the photoshoot is over,” she says as she pops the trunk. A loud sigh escapes her and her weight shifts to one leg. “Really, Max?”
“Hey, what’s a visit to the beach without a guitar?” I briefly catch her eyes as they roll, and she exchanges her case for a blanket. We make our way back to the logs, this time with my guitar and the big blanket. There’s a fire pit in front of the logs, and the sun is officially gone from the sky. If this fire doesn’t get lit this “photoshoot and maybe hangout” is gonna end pretty soon.
“Hey Victoria, can I use your lighter?” She fishes around the pockets of her hoodie and removes a slender metallic rectangle, nothing like the plastic throwaways I’ve seen Chloe with before. It comes to life after a few flicks. “I still can’t believe you’re wearing a hoodie and jeans.”
“Okay, first of all,”, she says, “these jeans cost about as much as your laptop.” I blow on the glowing kindling. “And second,” she continues, “I’m eighteen, Max. I know what jeans are.” The flames take hold and I join Victoria on the log, where she’s draped the blanket. Victoria always looks like she’s giving 110%, so I guess it’s just weird to picture her in anything less. Her hoodie is way nicer than mine, though.
“Well I think they look good on you.” Her face flushes, which has been happening more and more since we won the contest a few weeks ago. Her “Thanks” is soft, and she shifts in her seat. The gap between us shrinks a little, but there's still a few inches left.
I pull my guitar onto my lap and tune it a little. Her eyes are fixed on my fingers as they twist the pegs. The first few strums are just exploratory. When it sounds right I start strumming a simple tune. Victoria is still quiet, but she’s focused on the fire now. I really hope she’s enjoying this.
My cheeks are warm, but I don't know if it's just because of the fire or some other reason....
After strumming an aimless tune, my hands are ready to play something a little more. It fills the air around us, like playing an impromptu concert for the grass and waves. They wave along back and forth in the breeze. I almost don’t notice the sound right next to me.
“Victoria…” The guitar cuts out. “... were you just singing?” She’s back to blushing now, but the fire looks cool in comparison to her cheeks.
“I don’t… Max, you didn't hear anything.” Bullshit. The firelight touches the side of her head now. Silence again. I can't stand to see her like this.
My shoulder meets hers gently. “Let’s try it again from the top this time.” I start strumming the opening chords again, a silent invitation to her. How long will it take her to accept it? Has it been a few minutes already, or only a few seconds?
No more waiting. My fingers shift to the next chord, and the song begins. Clearing my throat, I prepare to—and there she is. Her eyes are on my feet, but her voice is there. It’s a sweet sound, something that up until the week of the photo contest would have been a juxtaposition. But there really is a sweet side to Victoria. A soft side. A weak side, she would say.
Before I can really enjoy her voice, it quivers and she stops. The grass and the waves are bowing, and I can feel myself involuntarily shiver. How did the fire get so low? I toss some more kindling in and wait for it to grow again. Ah, there’s the warmth… on my side?
The fire is reflected in the corner of her dark grey eyes. Her lips are parted and sometimes I think I can see the puffs of air escaping them. Oh–oh my god. The fire burns, the blanket wraps both of us, and yet I’m frozen. How much time is passing? Has it been a few seconds like this or a few minutes or — I seriously wish I could slow down time right now… moments like this never last long enough.
Now her shoulder nudges mine. I look back into her eyes, and she nods her head gently in the direction of the guitar. “I’m guessing that means one more time?” I say.
“Just play the damn song,” she replies. A little laugh escapes my throat, my left fingers weakly press into the strings, and my right hand shakes into place. The song is almost unrecognizable for the first few strums, until something spreads through my body and solidifies it, starting from the hip and ending in my bobbing hands.
When the last note of the last song rings out, the waves and grass are waving and cheering us on again. Now that my attention isn’t on playing the guitar, I can finally feel the soreness in my cheeks from smiling so much. Suddenly, Victoria’s hand slides onto my thigh, and I whip around only to find Victoria’s eyes are locked on my face. This time she’s really close; so close I can feel hints of her breath against my face with every passing moment. “Max…” She says my name, softly, but with a little scratch in her voice from singing so much. Victoria… It’s now or never, Max. She makes a little gasp when our lips meet, but the surprise quickly fades and she leans into me. I put the guitar on the ground and grab the corner of the blanket, bringing it to hers and closing us behind this curtain.
just wanted to say, i love your page. it gives this nostalgic 2015-2016 feel that lis tumblr used to have. keep posting <3
ahhh anon, i am flattered!
and i too enjoy looking back on those days, though I can’t guarantee ill always give you those vibes (once i finish True Colors, i’ll probably be posting more of that)
🫶🏻
Edit: wow this looks terrible on PC, so let me add the sentiment that emoji should show in a more readable format for PC
heart hands
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