#MaxBrinlyRP

[foolishquarry]

@blamebears​

In spite of Laura’s suspicions, no one came busting down their door at Harbinger Motel. Their young, supple kidneys were intact come morning, and they even managed to drop off before two AM to the drone of static laced cable. All in all not the worst after the night they’d had, except that neither of them remembered to set a phone alarm; Max’s first day of summer started with an explosion of swears and thwap of joggers to the face as Laura tossed frantic changes of clothes from their bags.

They were almost an hour late. Too late to make it to the car park and catch the van pool in with their fellow counselors. Almost too late for the tail end of orientation hellos up at the Lodge.

Max was already sweating through his tee from the mad rush in and Mr. Hackett’s many words of Thorough Disappointment by the time he got his cabin number and slung his bag onto the designated bunk. Too late to even rock-paper-scissors over who got which mattress? Definitely, judging by the leg already dangling from topside.

… He had a pretty good guess which guy from orientation it was from length of limb alone.

“Dylan, right?” Max ducked under the swaying socked foot and unzipped his bag to pull out a fresh shirt, tugging his damp one off and using it to dry his face. “Ready to meet the swarm tomorrow?”

[foolishquarry]

“You’re right. No class at all.” Max rolled his eyes, facing away but not at all embarrassed to do a clumsy speed change into swim shorts with Dylan right there. Nothing here that hadn’t already been glimpsed throughout a summer of rushed shower stall scrub downs. “Not like you, touching people’s hands the gentlemanly way.”

@foolishquarry​ liked for a random dialog starter for max

“The way you flirt is shameful.”

[foolishquarry]

|| @eyeswiped​ cont. from here ||

 Last night’s ghosting left a little bruise.

Yea, yea, Max knew the fickle nature of online friend-making, but… After stumbling into each other through a mutual friend’s server, it’d been ages since he and Popcornkearnel first formed their steadfast gaming alliance over summer break. Months of daily banter about historical references flying over his head, creatively avoiding swears even in the heat of battle, venting about weather and parents and then school-- it didn’t seem to matter how wildly different their interests were, they’d pause their game and just ramble at each other while doing homework some nights. The friendship felt solid.

Kind of felt like flirting too, sometimes. Maybe. Maybe Kearnel just had a really charming voice.

His PC was an old hand-me-down thing, souped up to handle games but lacking a webcam. He didn’t care enough to buy one separate since his headphones had a decent mic and face streaming would just slow his frame rate, but when Kearnel finally started oh-so-casually asking about a face for her pal, that meant he had to go and hand pick something to send that didn’t look like trash or a dating profile. A grinning group photo with his teammates’ faces scribbled out seemed... safe? Kind of? Kearnel knew he did soccer. Sweaty-but-not-too-sweaty, casual, didn’t scream showing off, and a blurry enough school background that if she was secretly an ax-wielding cougar behind the screen she’d have to work for that body count.

She dipped immediately. Immediately. At seven-thirty. Barely into their usual rounds of post homework chatting, game not even started yet, and she didn’t log back in the rest of the night.

Ouch. It took til morning to do emergency patch work on the ol’ self esteem, but… at least it wasn’t Dodge-ball.

Being wordlessly rejected by an almost-maybe-interested online friend for having too many freckles or whatever? Sucked. Still better than winning a death match in gym by pelting your crush in the face. The guilty mortification of giving someone a serving of defeat and a bloody nose; someone who made the weirdest, cutest smug faces correcting teachers on the regular and was definitely allergic to losing; that one would haunt him always. The way she’d stared made his days feel numbered.

And hey, maybe Kearnel just had an awkwardly timed family emergency. For all he knew, she would be back online like nothing happened after school, wanting to know why he deleted the pic before she could see it. Better not to think on it for now.

Max was in the midst of a laborious two-thumbed text on his flip phone, brows furrowed as he discarded his own advice and dug for a second opinion from his friend Perry, when he became aware of Laura’s locker ambush. He looked up owlishly at her waving, then over his shoulder for another Max. Nada. Just Carl McDowd carrying way too many binders again and giving Max a nasty look for stopping suddenly.

“Crap.” This had to be about the essay extension he asked for in Mrs. Lamp’s. The lady was notoriously impatient and known to send her favorites on collection rounds. Max raised his hands in supplication, phone clicking shut in his palm, and approached with a sheepish smile. Trying to sidle in to use his locker without asking Laura to move outright, he unintentionally gifted her a light whiff of freshly showered boy as their shoulders brushed. “Heeey… Um. Listen. I’ll definitely have it ready after lunch. I know I’m not, like, your favorite guy, but if you pretend you didn’t see me-”

[foolishquarry]

Debatable Decisions

@letsbreakhearts starter:

After hours of uncomfortable near silence, Max spoke. Shoulder and temple pressed to the passenger side door of a car that smelled like a stale Little Tree air freshener and old seats, his slow blinking stare didn’t stray from a smear of sunset in his window. “You could’ve just bought us a ticket home. Probably cheaper than what you’ll pay for gas.”

Maybe the officer wouldn’t hear, he could choose to ignore it. Pretend Max’s monotone comment went unheard under the faint play of country radio and Laura’s sleeping breaths from the back seat. Max almost hoped he would. In all honesty, he didn’t want any answers to the questions implied. Why did Laura push for this drive instead of working something out for a bus or train ticket? Why did the man who tormented them both for two months suddenly decide to bail them out and- and decide to be a chauffeur? Just what all did Max miss during that full moon?

And why why why did Max, even with the excuse of bone deep exhaustion after a weeks’ long blur of police lights and unfamiliar faces and semi coherent questioning, let anyone talk him into climbing in this car with them. Officer Hackett was going to drive them all the way from New York to Idaho? Terrifying. Attempting to doze off with that intimidating presence within elbowing distance, no bars in between? Impossible!

But going back to silence after attempting to break it was the most painful kind of awkward. There were no take backs. Making a face into his own reflection, Max only allowed the briefest pause before clearing his throat and adding at normal volume, “Too late now, I guess. Where are we? Pennsylvania?”

[foolishquarry]

Stay Put (thxwxlf)

|| continued from HERE: @thxwxlf​ ||​

Laura was taking too long. 

Max had walked what had to be the entire small island, keeping a wary eye on the dark clouds that kept blotting out the moon’s light, and all he had to show for it was a growing pit in his stomach and her pink ballcap. He gripped it tight, scrunching the dirty but forgiving fabric in both hands as he again peered across the lake.

She was fine. She had to be fine. Whether she dropped her hat on the way out or came back, there was no sign of her on the island now. There were no... bodies. No blood that couldn’t be explained away as Max’s own. So, he hadn’t hurt her.

He couldn’t have. Right?

Laura wanted him to wait, but how long could he without thinking the worst? That Officer... he had to be awake by now. Maybe he got out of the station. Maybe he did something to her. Even with the wolf stuff over with, there was more danger to all this than a piece of paper with a rhyme-y curse on it.

Taking a deep breath, he fit the rumpled hat over his damp hair and exhaled an unsteady “fuck it”. He stepped off the deck before he could change his mind.

A moment later he was resurfacing, having missed two distant howls while he was under; one questioning, the other curious, both from different parts of the same far shore dotted with small decks. Patting to check that the hat was still on, he blinked water from his eyes and started to swim.

[foolishquarry]

Stay Put

Max shivered. Lips and eyes tightly closed against the cold water, he crouched stiffly aside the damp wood of an outhouse and scrubbed one handed at his hair and neck, following his fingers closely with the spray head of a hose. Goosebumps rippled down both arms, skin flinching repeatedly from the frigid drizzle of water down his bruised back, but it was worth it. Way better than the thick slick of residual gore that had left sticky footprints to his current situation.

“Ugh.” It was a humbling thought that Officer Creepsie Daisy cleaned this whole mess up before Max even came to that first time at the station. Humbling but creepy- because the guy either already had a pair of Family Dollar briefs on hand for the occasion or made a special trip for some. If the walls and floor hadn’t been splattered with half dried blood and... and bits... “Nope. Past that.” Max blew penny flavored water out his nose, face scrunched against his own train of thought, and gave his cheeks a two handed smack. “Nope nope nope.” But. Maybe a couple creep points could be knocked off. No, a point and a half. Max had a deeper understanding now for why the world’s scariest cop might opt to taze him over potentially putting hands on another pair of wolf gooped pants. Context was a capital B itch in this case. Max muttered wordless dismay under his breath at the spigot flaking rusted green paint into his palm. He turned it off, smacked his damp hands cleanish on his thighs, and pushed sopped bangs back to cast another anxious look across the shadowed shapes of buildings and stairs, the lake, checking for creeping monsters and bare ass witnesses alike. And Laura. With the moon up and Max back to normal, there was only one explanation: She did it. Laura actually got to that Carl Hackett guy and-- The nightmare was over. All that mattered was they’d finally be going home. Even with a growing worry in his gut, that was a cheering thought to hold onto as he collected his borrowed clothes and bent to force a foot into Laura’s joggers.

[foolishquarry]

|| @thxwxlf​ cont. from here ||

It took a while. Max had always enjoyed a lengthy dip in any body of water, he was usually a strong swimmer, but... even with his memory shot, his body said this had been a long night. More than that, this lake was cold and his back and shoulders were screaming by midway that he’d fallen out of a tree and had no business doggy paddling anywhere right now.

Blowing water in quick, panting breaths, Max grit his teeth and powered through anyway. Turning back would hurt just as much as going forward- at least he was getting somewhere this way! That thought was just enough to keep him moving.

His vision was water blurred, arms shaking from exertion, when he finally reached the deck. He dragged himself belly down onto the aged slats of wood and all but collapsed to breathe- but the relief was brief. It took seconds to register a rumbling sound, then spot the splayed claws inches from his face.

He looked up. Numb, already knowing it was too late to react to whatever he saw. A werewolf stared back. Tongue lolling from its open mouth as it simply crouched over him, stilled by brief curiosity over a meal that voluntarily crawled out from where it wouldn’t dare to go.

“... Fuck.”

It lunged.

[foolishquarry]

Who will help Max clip back his bangs so they don’t stick to his face when he’s not feeling good?

[foolishquarry]

NIGHTMARE :  for one muse to comfort the other after a nightmare. For Max!!!

Max knew better than to wake her. 

Seated in the soft V of two pillows against the headboard, he turned down the already low volume on his laptop, hesitating before folding it shut as silent as he could when he heard her breath catch. He managed to shift it carefully from lap to bedside table without tangling the charger or disturbing the hand that, with sudden urgency, had felt at his kicked off blankets until it found his leg.

It was one of those nights. The ones where they kept the too bright glare of the moon hidden behind closed blinds. Where Laura would wake from nightmares and Max wouldn’t sleep at all, terrified to admit that he was kept up by a throbbing ache in his bones instead of anxiety. That he wasn’t tired. He wanted to climb from bed and clean out their fridge of the groceries they barely afforded after rent. He wanted to open the blinds, unlock the window, and-

No. The blinds stayed closed, the window locked, and Max sat in bed and played videos on his laptop all night. Chewing the inside of his lip until it bled and keeping watch over Laura’s sleep.

“Hey,” he whispered, in case she wasn’t actually awake yet. Best not to startle her if she wasn’t. His hand hovered, grazing the backs of his fingers over her hair. “Right here, Hon’. You got me.”

[foolishquarry]

Waiting

The wood floor was smeared red from Max’s lupine pacing. He panted and whined, snuffling through every crevice and huffing at spidery catches of dust; increasingly distraught by the harsh tug of hunger in his gut. There was nothing to find here. The island was dark. Quiet. Too calm to draw his muddled attention to the tree house attic’s shuttered windows as a means of escape. 

The concept of Where and Why was lost for now, too scrambled to make sense of when his senses were drowned in the stink of his own blood and fear in this confined place. He wanted to run. Chase. Feel the moon. He was so hungry.

No one answered his muffled howls.

He did settle eventually. Sidelong on a scattering of blood spattered towels he somehow knew were 'a bed, sort of, sorry honey, all she could find’ and growling faintly as he curled to gnaw at his own elongated leg. Chasing a stinging itch of newly grown skin stretched too tight over muscle and bone and, every so often, panting again as something internal decided it wasn’t done shifting just yet. The pain passed quickly but the hunger only intensified. He was starving. Starving. There was barely room for thought beyond that. He groomed some of the blood from his skin. Minutes or hours passed, he couldn’t know, before his ears perked. He rose on his haunches at the sound of creaking wood and a voice below.

[foolishquarry]

[ wrap ] from laura to max !!

[ wrap ]  –  for the sender’s muse to casually wrap their arms around the receiver’s neck and lean on their shoulder from behind.

"Atchhaa-" Max hissed lightly at the pressure on his tanktop shaped sunburn. He didn't need to look to know whose blonde flyaways were brushing his cheek and he set a hand over her forearm, giving it a little squeeze and stroke with his thumb as he leaned back into the loose hold. "I was just about to head back."

He'd been sitting out on the dock a little while now, swim shorts on and feet dipped in the water, watching the sunset change colors ahead of their planned bonfire. If he squinted, he could almost see where they were getting the flame going on the other side of the lake. There hadn't been many quiet moments like this to appreciate with all the campers around... the eerie peace of it had kept him entranced a little longer than intended after his swim. He tipped his head to tap against Laura's.

"How'd you know I was over here?"

[foolishquarry]

|| @fritenite​ cont. from here ||

“A little. Yea,” Max tensed but didn’t shy away from the touches. Laura’s fingers were cool against his clammy skin and his cheek leaned into the pleasant sensation after a pause. He shut the water off, exhaling half a laugh to relieve her concern. “It’s fine. I, uh, probably should’ve skipped that last coffee.”

It didn’t seem to occur to him just how rough he looked from her perspective. His spike of restlessness clearly hadn’t brought him by a mirror.

Drying off on a damp dish towel, he turned; lashes low and brows furrowed against the kitchen’s brightness. He caught Laura’s hands under his own. Gently tugged them away, but pressed a kiss to the fold of her thumb before releasing them, his eyes lifting with guilt to the clock over their fridge.

Three AM. She had to be tired, woken up this early.

If green looked odd in the light, if there was a split second gleam of yellow ringed around blown pupils, it could easily be Laura’s imagination. Max leaned back into the counter, already scrubbing the heel of his palms into his eyelids with a sigh. “Christ, Hon’, don’t you have a class in a few hours? Go back to bed, I’ll- take a walk or something.”

[foolishquarry]

INSOMNIA : for one muse to find the other still awake at 3am. - laura & max :)

"Sorry." Max was forearm deep in steaming sink water, two days’ worth of dishes they'd put off again at bedtime half finished in the drying rack and half scrubbed in his hands. He glanced over his shoulder but didn't turn when the overhead flicked on, eyes squinting shut against the light. "Too loud?"

His shirt was visibly damp at the back and sides, face flushed and moist enough that hair stuck limply to his forehead, agitation or nervousness in the way he didn't stop what he was doing to look at her fully. There was a used pan on the stove that filled their kitchenette with the cooked meat smell of what had to be a frozen burger patty, in spite of them being out of buns for a couple weeks now.

If he'd been driven from bed by a need for midnight snacking, or whatever dark time of morning it was now, he obviously hadn't wanted to be caught.

[foolishquarry]

DAZE : for one muse to wake somewhere and find the other hovering over them. [from abigail, for max! scenario can be reversed if you wish!]

Max was beside himself with panic. He didn't know this girl, it hadn't even occurred to him that there would be other people at the camp besides Laura, himself, and one werewolfed Chris Hackett. Considering Max came to as himself on the island, he'd only expected to find Laura at this point.

That theory was shot to shit as soon as he crossed the lake. If the creature lurking at the shore hadn't knocked him back in the water, if it hadn't taken off like a wet cat and left him bobbing under the dock, that would've been Game Over for ol' Max. He'd climbed out a second time with a gash in his shoulder but neck intact, which was more than he could say for whoever he'd just found at the bottom of the storm shelter stairs.

Hell. What the hell was going on? Laura had made it all sound so simple.

Not knowing where else to go with his left arm too effed to swim back to the island, he'd really been hoping to hide down here 'til morning. Either from more of those monsters or as one himself- and he had a worse and worse feeling about which it would be as the pain spread into feverish, full-bodied ache.

But he didn't find an empty hiding place below the lodge. Instead, he was pressing slippery hands over the side of a stranger's neck and shoulder. Trying to stem the flow of blood and trying even harder not to vomit. Now wasn't the time for his weak stomach, but it was all so much worse when the coppery smell wasn't his own.

She was so pale. Laura might have known what to do but him? There was no way Max could save this girl, not even in an ideal world with an ambulance on the way.

"Don't die. Please don't, please please please," Maybe she'd had the same idea as him. It obviously hadn't gone so well. "Don't do this to me, Lady, come on!"

His hands shook almost as bad as his voice. Against all odds, her chest was still moving and the puddle soaking into his knees hadn't grown. Beneath all the blood he couldn't even see that the wound, clustered with dark veins, had closed under the press of his palms.

Seeing her eyes start to flutter open almost stopped his heart. "Oh ffh-hhHey, hey, you're ok, I got you. I- can you hear me?"

[foolishquarry]

☁ For me to explain why you should lower that gun please and thank you.

"Oh shh-" Max dropped the bag with Laura's clothes, smeared fingerprints left on the canvas, and raised both hands. Right. Hiding on an island at a camp that should be closed, covered in blood and not much else, probably not a great look. Max didn't actually have any premade excuses for this. Teeth bared in a grimace that might have been an attempt at smiling, he gave a little two handed wave with his arms still raised over his hunched shoulders and legs half crouched. He ducked his head, half expecting to be shot before he got any words out. "I- I know this looks bad, but I'm more scared of you than you are me! This is my own blood!"