#life is strange max and chloe fanfiction

[lifeissimssnapshots]

🫧𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕦𝕞𝕡 📷✨🫧

Just a little photo dumb 🫧✨

[beforeimdeceased]

ellie williams, newest student at blackwell academy? 🪵🦋🌪️ (moodboard)

[chloe-caulfield94]

Max at Chloe's funeral

Max stood over her best friend’s coffin. Or was it her former best friend’s coffin? She wasn’t sure.

On one hand, the last time she saw Chloe had been five years prior, in the rear windscreen of her parents’ car. As Max drove away, Chloe was standing over her father’s coffin, almost in the exact same spot Max now stood. The last time Max communicated with Chloe had been four years ago, when she responded to a text from Chloe. Chloe asked Max not to ignore her phone calls and to pick up her phone from time to time. Max responded by saying she had been really busy, but she would totally call her later. She never did.

On the other hand, while Max had made new friends in Seattle – Kristen and Fernando, both of whom she liked and trusted - she had never developed with anyone a bond similar in depth and intensity to the one she had had with Chloe. It was only after Chloe had been murdered that Max realized Chloe had been like a family member to her. Like a sister.

As other mourners began to walk away, Max continued her silent watch over Chloe’s earthly remains, imagining the five years she could’ve spent with her best friend. The five years she had stolen from herself.

When Max saw Chloe’s bloodied corpse on Monday she didn’t recognize her. Only when the school security officer David Madsen started lamenting over his daughter’s lifeless body, repeating her name over and over, Max realized it was her best friend lying in a pool of blood on the floor.

Chloe’s short messy hair, dyed neon blue, was so unlike her old, long and straight blonde hair. During the wake, when Chloe’s body was displayed in an open coffin, she was much more recognizable to Max. She was dressed in a black pantsuit provided by the funeral home, almost identical to the one she wore during her father’s funeral, only slightly longer, to account for her growth in the meantime. Her hair, while still short and blue, was neatly combed behind her ears. Her hodgepodge of cheap jewellery was gone. Her tattoo was completely covered by the pantsuit’s long sleeve.

During the wake, Max heard other mourners say that Chloe looked “finally at peace”. She didn’t understand why they thought Chloe couldn't have been at peace in life. And the way Max saw it, while Chloe’s face, even paler than usual, was completely still, it conveyed anything but peace. Max was painfully aware that beneath Chloe’s black pantsuit was a hole in her breast, its edges held together by a thick thread, covering an entrance to a tunnel burrowed in Chloe’s flesh by a piece of metal which stopped her heart forever.

As Max was standing over her best friend’s coffin, not ready to let Chloe out of her sight as she had done five years prior, a blue butterfly flew in and sat on the wooden box.

And then Max remembered. She heard a voice. Chloe’s voice. She sounded differently. Not like a child anymore. But Max would recognize Chloe’s voice no matter how many years passed in the meantime. The older Chloe’s voice said all the things Max had ever wanted to hear. And all the things Max didn’t even know she wanted to hear, but deep down desperately needed to. Sweet, wise and heartfelt words of her long-lost best friend uplifted her heart.

“Every great artist gets rejected before they get accepted. So you have to enter a photo”.

“Stop being so goddamn humble. You’re like the smartest, most talented person I’ve ever known”.

“Once you get over yourself, you’re going to make the world bow”.

“You are! You just have to stop being afraid”.

“You’re kind and caring. Nobody could have a better best friend. Nobody!”

“You need to accept how awesome you are”.

“Stop beating yourself up, okay?”

“It’s time to start moving forward in time”.

“You’re Maxine Caulfield ... and you’re amazing!”

Max also remembered her own words, the ones she would’ve said during a week that never was, all in acknowledgment of how much Chloe meant to her.

“As long as we’re together, I don’t feel afraid”.

“As long as you’re there with me”.

“I always wanted my life to be special, an adventure. But not without you!”

“Your life has changed mine”.

And then she remembered things other than words. Handholding. Hugs. Longing stares. Kisses. Max discovered, to her great but oh so pleasant surprise, that while her love for Chloe was familial, it wasn’t like a love between sisters. It was like a love between spouses.

Max smiled wide remembering all of that. And then the butterfly flew away and she remembered something else. A kiss in pouring rain followed by a gunshot and a pool of blood. Smile immediately disappeared from Max’s face. She felt her heart stop for a moment. Then it started pounding furiously. It pounded so fast Max thought it would escape out of her chest. Her limbs became heavy and ice-cold.

“I … killed her?” – she asked in her thoughts.

“I killed her”- she answered her own question, muttering under her breath.

“I killed her!” – she screamed at the top of her lungs, having fallen to her knees.

The other mourners turned to Max. Joyce and David rushed to her. Joyce placed her hand on Max’s shoulder. Max’s body shook as she cried bitter tears. “I killed her, I killed her, I killed her” – she repeated.

“Oh, Max. it’s not your fault” – Joyce tried reassuring her. “Chloe … she was troubled. She ran in bad company. There was nothing you could’ve done to help her. She ��� She chose to remain angry”.

“She chose to remain angry” – Joyce’s words echoed both in Max’s ears and in her memory. She felt fury rise inside of her. Anger at herself and at everyone else in the town that had failed and killed her best friend.

“Fuck that. Fuck. That” – Max thought. She wiped her tears and slowly stood up. She turned to Chloe’s mother and said calmly: ”You know what, Joyce? I think I now understand why Chloe was always a daddy’s, not mommy’s girl”.

Joyce was taken aback. She took her hand off Max’s shoulder. “What? Max, what do you …”

“So when are you going to take down all of Chloe’s pictures from the walls? You hid away all of William’s pictures two years after his death. So in two years’ time they are going to be reunited in the closet, right? Father and daughter together at last. Just like they’ve been already reunited here in this cemetery plot”.

David intervened: “Max, you have no right to talk to Joyce like that …”

Max turned to David and asked him, in a raised voice, almost shouting: “What kind of a man hits his own child? I’ll tell you! No man at all!”

David opened his mouth to defend himself, but said nothing, apparently finding nothing to say in his defence. Max jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. Repeatedly. Hard.

Max screamed: “I’m pushing you! I just keep pushing you! Do something about it! Do what you always do when teenage girls push you!”

David’s face turned red. Not out of anger. Out of shame.

Max turned to walk away. And then she saw Frank Bowers standing on the sidelines. Fury rose inside of her. She pointed him with her finger and shouted: “What the fuck is he doing here? Why isn’t he in jail with Jefferson and Nathan? He’s the one who supplied them with date rape drugs!”

Frank looked around hesitantly, unsure if he should start running away or not.

Looking at David, Max shouted: “Hey David! This scumbag, who you were somehow unable to apprehend even though he often parked his drug van in the parking lot of the school you claim to provide security for, sold Nathan the drugs he used to roofie your daughter! You failed to protect her in life. How about saving the last shreds of your masculine pride and avenging her?!”

Frank tried disarming the situation the only way he knew how. With lies and threats: “This brat doesn’t know what she’s talking about! She’s probably high as a kite. Listen, girlie. I don’t know you. So I suggest you stop falsely accusing me, or you and I are going to have a serious talk …”

Max almost ran at him. She pushed him with both hands, making him stagger for a moment. Pompidou remained calmly seated on the ground. He did not stand in his owner’s defence, perfectly aware that Frank deserved every bit of what he was now receiving.

Max screamed at Frank: “But I thought you loved brats! Your entire life revolves around schoolchildren! You peddle your drugs to them! You exploit them as accomplices to your crimes, to do things you are too cowardly to do yourself! And some of them you even fuck, like Rachel!”

“I don’t know you. Get the hell away from me!”

“But I know you! Did you go to Rachel’s funeral as well? You know you killed her, right? You sold Nathan the drugs that he used to murder her. You know what he did to her? Have you seen the pictures he took of her? How he groped her? All of that is because of you!”

A grimace of rage appeared on Frank’s face. Without thinking, he instinctively reached into his pocket to retrieve his switchblade. Before he did, Max pushed him again, making him stagger.

“Stop that, you brat!”

“Or what? You’re going to put a knife to my throat, like you did yesterday at the beach? Chloe wrestled your knife away from you. If one girl beat you, I’m fairly confident I could kick your ass too!”

“You’re crazy! We never met before! And your friend Chloe …”

“She owed you money, I know. So you threatened to cut her! What a big, strong man you are! But when push came to shove, she beat you. She always did. Even when you had a gun and she was empty-handed. Always! Because you’re a weak parasite preying on kids. And she was strong. Stronger than you! You know how much time I spent replaying things so that you would come out of our little talk alive and unharmed? I really shouldn’t have. When violent armed thugs assault teenage girls, teenage girls have the right to defend themselves. But I didn’t do it for you. I did it for her. Because she was gentle and kind and I didn’t want her having to live with hurting you, even if it was just a scratch to the leg”.

Frank was still furious, but he didn’t reach for his switchblade a second time.

“You’re making shit up! Nothing of what you said ever happened!”

“Yes it did!” Max turned to David once more. He was holding Joyce in his arms, who was sobbing. Max shouted: “David, this piece of shit threatened your daughter with a knife. He called her a whore, over and over again. You want proof? Go through the text messages on Chloe’s phone. Mister genius drug lord over here sent death threats from his own phone number. David, if Frank is not arrested by cops by the end of the day, you have no right to call yourself a man, you hear me?”

David let Joyce go and started walking towards Frank. Frank sprinted away. Pompidou hesitated for a while, looking curiously at Max, but then he followed his owner.

Kate approached Max. She placed her hands on Max’s shoulders. With a sincere smile on her gentle face, she said: “Max, I am so, so sorry about Chloe. We’re here for you. It’s okay to feel hurt”.

Max wanted to thank Kate for her kind words. But before she did, something caused her anger to rise again. She and Kate were approached by Victoria, who said: “Kate is right, Max. If you need any help, just let us know. I …”

“Why are you here?” – asked Max coldly.

“Oh, I knew Chloe. One time she gave me a pep talk when I was afraid to go out on stage. She told me everything I needed to hear then. Ultimately I didn’t perform that night, but that’s another matter, involving Rachel, and I don’t want to speak ill of …”

“No, I mean why weren’t you expelled from Blackwell?”

“What? Max I was … misled. I didn’t know …”

“You led an intense campaign of cyberbullying against a fellow student. I’d say that warrants expulsion. Oh, right. Your parents are too rich for you to experience the consequences of your actions”. Max turned to Kate and said: “Kate, you do realize she knew you were roofied by Nathan, right? The campaign of hate she unleashed against you would be evil in its own right even if she thought you genuinely got drunk. Because Victoria has no right to judge you or anyone else. But she knew Nathan drugged you. She witnessed something that any rational person would consider to be a date rape in progress. A girl was drugged and removed from the party by a boy. And not only she let that happen, she laughed, recorded it and then lied about it to the world”.

Victoria was indignant: “I didn’t know about that, Max. I thought that was just a stupid prank by Nathan. I couldn’t possibly have known …”

“You knew, Victoria. You knew about ‘the good shit Nathan hooked Kate up with’. Why even lie? Kate would forgive you even if you told her the truth. If you know you will be forgiven, why hide your crime? At this point, aren’t you lying mostly to yourself? And explain one thing to me. Yesterday at the pool, when I told you what Nathan did to Kate, you didn’t believe me. But when I said you might be next, it’s like a switch flipped in your brain. You almost immediately believed my warning. Isn’t that a double standard? When it was about Kate, you were willing to give Nathan the benefit of the doubt that even though he did to Kate exactly what date rapists do to their victims, he was actually taking her to get help after an innocent prank. But when your safety was on the line … Then you weren’t willing to take any risks. Then you immediately assumed the worst about him”.

“You’re delusional! We didn’t talk yesterday at all!”

Kate interjected: “It’s okay, Max. I forgive her. Let’s not get angry over the past”.

“Forgive her for the both of us, then. Because I don’t. I won’t”.

Max turned to walk away but once again the sight of one of the mourners fuelled her anger. At that point, she wanted to feel angry. Anger staved off guilt. She approached the pastor. She remembered him from before her move to Seattle. The Prices and the Caulfields went to church together on Sundays. One of his sermons now rang loudly in Max’s head. It was about the people living on the edges of Arcadia Bay’s society. Homeless, runaway teenagers, drug addicts. He preached standard Calvinist filth. How the destitute and the sick deserved their lot in life for being sinners and how the youths who disobey their parents and use drugs have only themselves to blame when they inevitably turn up dead. To his credit, the pastor had at least one tiny shred of decency left and he didn’t repeat that sermon at Chloe’s funeral. Max asked him: “Reverend, what do you call a person whose blood washes away the crimes of unrepentant sinners?”

“Oh, Max. Don’t worry. By his blood, the sins of your friend are forgiven. She’s with him in heaven now”.

“No, you are wrong. By her blood you all were spared”.

Max left the cemetery. Warren ran after her.

“Woah, Max! That was … badass! I didn’t know you like that!”

Max kept walking. Warren walked next to her.

“Warren, are you blind? A beautiful, cool, strong-willed girl is into you. Why are you ignoring her?”

“You mean you’re into me, Max?”

“No, Warren. I obviously mean Brooke. There was a girl like that who was into me. I fucked it up. Don’t repeat my mistakes”.

“Oh … I know about Brooke. I just … you know, kind of benched her until the situation with you is resolved”.

“Wow. You are a player after all, Warren”.

He smiled. But Max had more to add.

“And I didn’t mean that as a compliment”.

He stopped smiling and fell behind.

Continue reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56245288/chapters/142889017

[maxthesillyy]

This is gonna sound pessimistic, but I always found Chloe not reacting at all to Joyce dying...pretty weird tbh. I haven't read the comics so I don't know what happened, but it's something that really bothers me. Cause after Lis2/Bae the only family she has left is David and it's a little crazy that Chloe and had to lose borh William and Joyce in order to grow as a person. Idk if this makes sense at all, but it's something I think about at all the time Thoughts?

well, first off, please dont take the comics as a “Canon” continuation of the sacrifice arcadia bay ending. it has the same level of canon as any old fanfiction does, the only difference is that the comics are officially licensed. it’s a HUGE common misconception i see almost anytime i see someone talk about them.

and secondly, i would say chloe very much does react at the idea of joyce’s death.

but i guess you could’ve meant when after max makes the decision to sacrifice arcadia bay. and in that case i would say the answer to that then is simply that chloe was respecting and supporting max and her decision.

i mean, i feel like even someone as emotional as chloe could tell that it wasnt the right time to fall to the ground crying about how her mom was going to die. she knew max needed her support in that moment, and chloe was ready to momentarily push away her own emotional turmoil to give that support to max.

(something something. chloe is full of love. something something. parallels. something something. topic for another time.)

especially when they get to the point where theyre driving off from the destroyed town— chloe has accepted it, even when max clearly isn’t as sure of herself as chloe is of her.

(something something. literally their entire dynamic. something something. topic for another time x2.)

she trusts max to have made the right choice, and even if she wasn’t so sure about it, it’s not like she couldve done anything about it.

i mean maybe she couldve yelled, screamed, and begged max to rewind and make a different choice, but whether you think she trusted max in those moments or not— i feel like chloe knew there wasnt any going back on it.

i think that specifically really shows when chloe says max is the only one who can make the decision of who to sacrifice. both in a literal sense and in a “i’ll follow you in either choice you make.” sense.

honestly i think chloe dropping any doubt she couldve had in that moment just to support max is literally the most in-character thing she could’ve ever done in that scene.

[lenorenevermore99]

Posting the uncolored version of [this] drawing cause I don't like how I colored it

[patchodraws]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Life is Strange (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price Characters: Maxine "Max" Caulfield, Chloe Price (Life is Strange), Safi (Life is Strange: Double Exposure) Additional Tags: past pricefield, Hurt No Comfort, Exes, Character Study, Game: Life is Strange: Double Exposure (2024) Summary:

Max is tired. Tired of always being at the centre of these tragedies, tired of watching those she cares about die, and it feels like the world doesn’t want her to forget that for a second. After all, why else would it stop so suddenly and so endlessly right as she expects even a moment of reprieve?

But there is no reprieve. Not a shred of it in sight. Here at Caledon, Safi was her reprieve. The beauty of winter — so different from the slush she used to get on the west coast — was her reprieve. And…

Her gaze darts to her phone, charging on her desk. It wouldn’t be so hard to call, she supposes. Her number’s still saved, and as the world keeps taking from her, she’s reminded of the one thing she was given over a decade ago.

A second chance.

A second chance, and she blew it.

*

Safi is dead, and the one person Max wishes she could talk to about it hates her.

[inky-snowdrop]

Two Pairs of Star-Crossed Lovers

A Life Is Strange and Until Dawn Oneshot/Poem

Pairings: Chloe Price/Max Caulfield (Pricefield), Chris Hartley/Josh Washington (Climbing Class)

Rating: T (13+)

(canon typical violence)

Originally Posted on Ao3: May 16th, 2019

🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀

Two pairs of star-crossed lovers

See the butterfly drift away with the breeze,

It’s wings beating lightly and without a sound,

Causally and lazily making it’s way out of their view.

Amongst the broken bottles and sweet grass,

Strewn out against the snow and wooden totems,

They laugh and flash toothy grins,

The tiny insect quickly forgotten as the sun begins to set.

Two pairs of star-crossed lovers

Share a past prior to the events that have yet to unfold,

Becoming friends,

Accomplices to each other’s crimes,

As children, no less.

Blue permeates the soul’s of these children;

Two the color of the purest sky reflecting the bay’s water.

The others, an indigo darkness shrouded by fog and smoke

Hidden high in the mountains.

Two pairs of star-crossed lovers,

Guardians of the light in the human spirit

And the darkness in the human soul.

Two within the past,

Changing what could not be changed

And visiting planes of reality not yet discovered nor explored by humankind.

Magic, the most pure and yet deadly kind, is their ally.

Two predicting the future,

Choices that seem small and insignificant

Carving into the lives of every person upon the accursed land.

Not magic, oh no.

Curses linger near, always watching, always listening.

Ghosting across the physical and mental worlds like a disease ready to take hold.

Two pairs of star-crossed lovers,

From across the harbor and into the town,

Filled with a sticky heat and the smell of fire making love to the Earth,

Comes a celestial being and her magnificent gifts.

Powerful is she,

Auburn hair angular and good,

Time and space lingering upon her fingers.

She knows not how this power came to be hers,

And yet it still chose her.

Her other,

For there is always another,

Is a fallen angel,

Giant wings of butterfly blue growing from her spine and drifting into her hair to ravage wildly about her pale face.

They, the chosen and her angel, embody the world of the past,

Bravely trusting Fate herself to bring their dreams of being together to the light of day.

Sadly, Fate tends to have a sense of humor.

Two pairs of star-crossed lovers,

Hailing from the frost lands of the North,

Where it is not uncommon for men, women, and children to betray their human nature,

A puppeteer watches quietly from the shadows as his trap has been laid.

Revenge plays heavily upon his string pulled mind,

Smile charming and deceiving, eyes shining and full of suffering,

None can see behind the laughs;

None can see the hatred that boils within.

Mistake number one.

The other,

Trusting and naive,

Hopelessly in love though destiny dictates otherwise,

Can read through the strings and gauze of his partener like one might read a book.

A ghost of his former body,

Sorrow binding and chaining him down to the Earth as he desperately claws for breath though he cannot give up hope;

He must never rest.

For what friend (what partener) would he be if he abandoned the puppeteer now?

Mistake number two.

Two pairs of star-crossed lovers,

Each trapped forever,

In a never ending cycle of

What is,

What was, and

What will be.

Or, perhaps the most daunting of all,

What COULD be.

All four trapped in a web of their own design,

The vibrant azule wings that once held the aloft ripped and mangled at their feet.

All four embracing the storm that howls and shrieks at them,

Faces flushed from fear of the unknown and voices hoarse from screaming back at the wild rain and snow.

All four bonding through a love created in the innocence of childhood that was cultivated and fed as they aged;

The effects of their death-marked love not only echoing about their bedrooms with sighs and gasps, but also out into other places and other realities that go on forever.

All four sharing an early grave;

Hair wet and lips cracked and bleeding;

A concussed head and crushed limbs, if not completely ripped from their original homes.

Two pairs of star-crossed lovers,

Destinies changing as rapidly as the wind changes course.

And as the storm dies, the screeching lowering to a hum during the afterglow of it’s rage,

It takes with it the souls of two of the children, their bodies physically broken or mutated beyond repair

And it takes the remaining children’s spirits, leaving them behind sobbing and hallowed remains of the people they used to be.

Forever craving,

Forever yearning,

Forever alone.

Two pairs of star-crossed lovers

Await the beat of the butterfly’s wings

As the sun begins to rise,

Praying that the storm that will soon follow will not be their last.

And,

If it is,

Try to find solace in each other’s arms

One last time.

🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦

🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀

[theyluvlyss]

𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝🙂...

1. tonight, I went to go see the black phone in theaters again (one time showing only typa deal, at least where I live, for those curious ig lol) and y'know,,, I've always known this one thing about myself, which is that my brain LOVES the theater. she loves going, she loves the loudness, the atmosphere, she loves it all, even if (clearly) she's seen the movie already. because of this silly little fact, and because I went to go see this silly little movie tonight, as I lay in the comforts of my warm bed and drink my dr.pep and eat my vanilla ice cream...

my brain all the while had apparently been working overtime behind my back. just as my head hit the pillow, she practically punched me in the throat with a fic idea that I just can't pass up. but I fear I have trouble committing, so I cannot promise it'll even come into fruition, let alone get finished. but on the off chance it does and I do... I will leave anyone reading right now with these...

north denver, 1982 (or 3, idk)...

reader is new to town, dresses like a freak, and absolutely does witchy spiritual stuff...

ghost boys reach out to the reader...

something with finney and gwen, the grabber, idk maybe max, too, add in a bit of angst, love, hurt, comfort, allat junk *inahles*...

😃✋🏼it's all a jumbled kerfuffle of thoughts from there, and I'd lowkey like it to be a full blown, multiple part/series/chapter FIC fr, yk? IDKIDK but I see a vision and...yeah. do y'all see the vision?

...am I crazy😀?

moving on😌☝🏽...

2. sooner or later (hopefully sooner, though) I will be binging/rewatching life is strange 1 and 2 playthroughs, which will then allow me to add a masterlist for some of the characters I've been wanting to write about for a very long time now, which means requests for those characters will be open once I do (not yet, though lol) :D!!

I've done my fair share of fic reading back when wattpad was my main app, and while they were good for the time, lord knows I haven't touched that app in years and I'm NOT going back. but, unfortunately, there's not a lot of fics on here to read (my heart shattered into pieces when I looked up sean diaz's name and there was basically nothing😔💔) and I don't like fooling around with other fic sites, so, as usual, I must be the one to fill the void left both on this app and in my heart.

you're welcome🤭✨️ (kidding, ish-).

anyways, that's about it for now (other than the 80+ requests I'm working on currently), thanks for reading whatever this is you wanna call it, byeeeee /ᐠ-з-マ/.

[hitmewithlghtning]

splitting up pricefield after almost 10 years since the og lis game feels as if some stranger took a shit in my yard. don't nod would never do that stuff. they left continuation to max's story (and chloe's) to our imagination as it should've been. we never needed a sequel to the og game in the first place.

[fire-in-my-woods]

Day 1 of 30 year-old pricefield shippers trying not to suicide bait anyone

[lifeissimssnapshots]

🍁✨𝕒 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕠𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕥✨🍁

follow for more! @lifeissimssnapshots

[jennysparksandtheauthority]

forever might be short (pricefield drabble collection)

Originally posted on AO3 as part of the International Fanworks Day challenge 2024.

Summary: Max saves Chloe and they leave the bay behind, but what happens after ten months? And ten years? And all the in betweens? Ten drabbles about love, loss, healing and learning how to navigate life together, in honor of International Fanworks Day 10th anniversary.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: F/F

Fandom: Life is Strange (Video Game)

Relationship: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price

1. ten months

They haven't lost the ability to smile, but they don't laugh the way they used to.

When it happens, ten months after the storm, it's random, spontaneous.

Max scrolls Netflix, Chloe is looking at her phone. Then, she reads something. Her eyes light up. She grins like an ass. 

"Hey, Max?"

"Yeah?"

"What’s the difference between a casual dinner party and a pirate orgy? The first one you come as you are… The other you ARR as you come!"

When Ryan and Vanessa come home they find them rolling on the couch, kicking each other, eyes watery, breathless with laughter.

2. the fury in your head

Max lets Chloe die, but the storm still comes.

She's in the lighthouse, screaming at it.

"Didn't you get what you wanted?! I did what you asked of me! Why is this happening? What more do you want from me?!"

The hurricane roars and Max wakes up. 

Chloe's arms engulf her in an instant, "It's okay. You're safe. We're in Seattle. I'm here."

Chloe never pushes her to share, she wants to spare her the pain. She imagines Max dreams about the innocent lives lost, the sorrow, the guilt.

But Max's nightmares are about one thing only: not choosing Chloe.

3. (finally see) what it means to be living

It takes them more than a year to find their footing, but it's bliss when it finally comes.

They get an apartment. Max goes back to school, and Chloe enrolls in an Associate in Computer Science program in community college.

They work most weekends, even though Ryan and Vanessa are helping them out. They even get a compensation from the Arcadia Bay Victims Relief Fund. Chloe calls it blood money. But they take it, because they need all the help they can get.

Still, their routine is hard. Seattle is always rainy. They study, they work, they get by. Together.

4. awake, dear heart…

They share a bed, so they technically sleep together, but they're not together. 

There are lingering touches, light kisses and even pecks on the lips, but they haven't done anything else. They haven't talked about it. They're both just so utterly afraid of messing up what they have.

Max finds a note in Chloe's pocket when she's doing laundry. It reads: My offer still stands. Call me? Erika xoxo. There's a phone number. She folds it and then leaves it on Chloe's nightstand.

When Chloe finds it, she doesn't say anything, but Max watches her throw it in the trash.

5. ...awake

"Chloe? You know you don't have to stay with me, right? You don't owe me anything."

It's Christmas Eve. 11 AM. They agreed to sleep in before they drive to Max's parents. 

Chloe immediately sits up on the bed and looks at her with so much concern you'd think Max's nose is bleeding.

"What the fuck? Where did that come from?"

Max grimaces, refrains the urge to cry, "It's just… sometimes… I wonder if—"

Chloe puts a finger over her lips, ever so gently. Then, she kisses her, deeply, intentionally. It's a statement.

When they part, Max wonders no more.

6. worship in the bedroom

They lie naked on a warm June morning, limbs intertwined, bodies sweating, hearts beating loudly.

"Damn, you're hardcore, Max," Chloe grins like an idiot.

"So I’ve been told," Max can't help a little proud smile.

They chuckle together, and enjoy the silence. It's not really silence – a Hozier song is coming from the speakers, and birds sing under their window.

"One of these days, Caulfield…" Chloe whispers absentmindedly.

"What?"

She doesn't answer. She pulls Max closer and replies only in her mind.

One of these days I'm gonna ask you to marry me. Not today, but one of these days.

7. (remember) to let her under your skin

They end up in New York because Max gets a scholarship there, thanks to her impressive portfolio. Her photos and her name are connected to Arcadia Bay and, painful as that is, it opens many doors for her. She wishes it wasn't like that, but… it's the blood money check situation all over again.

HBO did a documentary series, so everybody in class knows everything.

Well, not everything.

But they whisper — she hears words like survivor, so tragic, Jefferson...

It used to bother her. Yet, with each passing day coming home to Chloe, the pain seems to simply drift away.

8. the pleasure, the privilege is mine

It's Chloe's birthday.

Max plans the perfect party with their New York friends. They Skype Max's parents, David and Kate. Chloe drinks, laughs, cries. They eat cake. It's fun, and it ends with their apartment ruined.

Afterwards, they sit together on the couch, spent, heads touching.

"Thank you for today, babe," Chloe says softly as she looks at their intertwined hands. "For a girl that should be dead, turning 25 is kinda wild…"

Max gazes at her with sheer devotion, "I love you so much."

The smile that Chloe gives her might have the power to stop time, "I know."

9. this is now

After the pandemic (they'll always wonder if somewhere, someone was using some cursed, forbidden power), Chloe burns out. She quits her job as IT specialist in some big pharma company, and starts freelancing as a graphic designer. That year, Max hits 200k followers on Instagram. She signs a photobook deal. Chloe designs the cover. It's a wild success.

So Chloe spins Max in her arms one Friday afternoon, and blurts out, "Max, I think we're ready. We've been talking about it, let's just do it!"

Max laughs, nods.

They lock eyes, and yell it in unison, "Let's get a dog!"

10. ten years

Chloe's making spaghetti — her long, honey-blonde hair up in a messy bun, her arm tattoo covered in black ink. Max's watching her work, sitting at the kitchen island, playing with the white gold band in her ring finger. Deckard, their Labrador, sits at her feet.

They're talking about their day, complaining about shit, making plans.

There's three candles by the window: one for Rachel, one for Joyce, one for all the others. Today's the anniversary, but it doesn't get to them anymore.

Life's weird, thrilling, also boring at times. 

It's good too. 

They made it. And they will be okay.

THE END

author's notes:

Title from Emily Dickinson's 434:

To love thee Year by Year— May less appear Than sacrifice, and cease— However, dear, Forever might be short, I thought to show— And so I pieced it, with a flower, now.

Chapter 2 title: Spanish Sahara by Foals

Chapter 3 title: Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

Chapter 4 & 5 reference: “Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.” (Prospero, Act 1, Scene 2) —The Tempest by William Shakespeare

Chapter 6 title: Take Me To Church by Hozier

Chapter 8 title: There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths

Chapter 9: “Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted." —Sylvia Plath

[chloe-caulfield94]

Max gives Joyce a piece of her mind

“Who is it that you got engaged to, Chloe?” Joyce only now noticed a new addition to Chloe’s usual hodgepodge of jewellery – a silver ring with many colourful stones on Chloe’s left ring finger. “I see he couldn’t even be bothered to buy you a proper ring. It should be gold, with a diamond. Like the one your father gave me”.

Chloe thought to herself: “Yes, that ring was beautiful. Too bad you sold it”. Chloe closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. “This is the best day of your life, Price. You’re not going to cry today”, she thought.

“It’s Max, mom”.

Joyce only now noticed Max standing behind Chloe in the doorway.

“Oh hi, Max! I’m so sorry you had to listen to our little quarrel. But you’ve been hanging around with Chloe almost every day since we moved to Seattle, so you’re used to that”.

“Mom, you’re not listening to me. It’s Max who …”

“Max is such a nice young woman. Why can’t you be more like her? She would never do something so reckless. You should …”

“Enough!” – said Max loudly, almost shouting, surprising everyone present, including herself. Max stepped in front of Chloe and continued, not as loud, but still way above her usual gentle tone of voice: “Enough. Joyce, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you ever since I met you again at the Two Whales. You can’t talk about your daughter that way!”

Joyce seemed shocked by Max’s words. David and Chloe less so.

“We meet for the first time after five years and you spend the majority of our conversation going on and on about how big of a burden your own child is? ‘Chloe chose to remain angry’. That’s what you said. Maybe you don’t even remember saying it, but I will never forget you saying that. She chose to be angry? Chloe chose none of the things that happened to her. She didn’t choose for William to be killed by a reckless trucker who fell asleep behind the wheel. She didn’t choose for me, her supposed best friend, to stop answering her calls and texts. She didn’t choose for Rachel to promise her a life together and then break up with her using a letter”.

“Max, what are you saying? Chloe and Rachel were just friends. They had sleepovers all the time!”

David furrowed his brow, surprised with his wife’s obliviousness. “Joyce, that’s exactly why they had so many sleepovers. I thought that was obvious. It’s why I always woke them up so early and tried to get them out of Chloe’s room. I didn’t want them fooling around under our roof. Just like I would if Chloe tried doing that with a boy”.

Max continued telling all the things she’d been wanting to tell Joyce for the past year: “Chloe didn’t choose for her stepfather to slap and demean her!”

David’s face turned red. Not out of anger, though. Out of shame.

“Chloe didn’t choose for Nathan Prescott to roofie and attempt to assault her and then threaten to shoot her! She didn’t choose for Frank Bowers to threaten to kill her with a knife! By the way, David. That’s why she took your revolver. For self-defence”.

David was distraught that his daughter had been in danger and he didn’t even know about it. “What? Chloe, why didn’t you tell me about it? I would’ve done something!”

Chloe responded, quoting David’s own words: “’For your own good, stay away from Chloe. She’s a loser and she’ll only drag you down’. I didn’t want to drag you down, David”.

David hung his head low, confronted with his own venomous words, having finally realized how crushing it must’ve been for Chloe to hear something like that from her own parent.

Max kept pouring her heart out: “What did you even argue with her about when I picked up that phone call? I tell you David hit her and your reaction is to yell at her? Not to hug her, to console her, to tell her everything is going to be alright? To yell at her. Then again, she pushed him. That was the problem. Chloe pushing. Not her stepfather reacting with violence to being ‘pushed’, whatever that even means, by a teenage girl. Chloe being a bad daughter, a disappointment. That was the problem. Well, I know for a fact Chloe would give her life to save yours and David’s. Without hesitation. I know that for a fact! How’s that for a bad daughter? And why do you always seem to be annoyed when you see Chloe? When she went into the diner that day, before she even said anything, you were already angry with her. Why? What was even that stupid speech about Chloe blowing her college fund on bacon? Did you really charge your own child for a few scraps of bacon? When we were kids, we would visit you at work. You always gave us pie. Are you telling me you charged us back then too? Should I be worried about my own college fund? Did you really keep a tab for your daughter and you paid it off using money William had set aside for Chloe’s education?”

“Max, that was a joke. Of course I didn’t actually charge Chloe”.

“Well if that was a joke, I didn’t feel amused to hear it. More like embarrassed. Why even joke that way? What you were trying to get at? Did you want to remind her she had got expelled from Blackwell, as if she didn’t remember that? Were you complaining that she visited you at work too often? Or did you think she ate too much? She’s rail-thin, for God’s sake. I can feel all her bones when I touch her. If anything, she should be eating more”.

Chloe blushed, as Max’s remark clearly indicated she had seen her, and touched her, while she was in a state of undress. But it seemed neither Joyce nor David picked up on it.

“When I finish my classes at U-Dub in the afternoon and Chloe is there to pick me up, that’s the best part of my day. I always smile when I see her. I cannot fathom how could anyone react to my Chloe with annoyance. And yet, you do. Almost every time I see you interact. Could you stop doing that? Pretty please, now that we’re going to become a family? Because it’s me who proposed to Chloe. And by the way, that ring was the best thing I could afford using the money I made in my summer job. I admit, it’s not gold and diamonds. It’s silvered steel and agates. But I think it suits my fiancée. It’s bold and colourful, just like her”.

Joyce was floored with the revelation. David not so much.

Joyce needed a moment to process the news: “What? But … I mean … That’s wonderful, Max! I’m so happy for you. I know you will be a good influence on Chloe. I know you will help her change for the better”.

Max sighed. She was no longer angry and she reverted to her normal, gentle speaking voice. But she still had a lot to say: “Joyce, Chloe is not some kind of work in progress that needs finishing. Not any more than any other human being is. I love her for who she is now, not for who she might become. My love for her is not conditioned on her changing in any way. She will, of course, just as I will change going through life at her side. This is going to be our journey. But it doesn’t have any set goal, other than being together. Our love, it’s not a one-way street. I stand to gain from it just as much as she does. Chloe saved my life. Twice. When Nathan Prescott caught me snooping in the dorms, Chloe shielded me with her own body and pushed him away. Even though he was armed and had threatened to murder Chloe just two days prior. And when Frank Bowers lunged at me with a knife, Chloe stopped him. She wrestled a taller, stronger man armed with a knife to save my life, with no weapon of her own, because in my unmatched wisdom I had told her to discard it. And she did save my life”.

David nodded in respect, impressed with his daughter’s tenacity in defending her loved ones.

Max continued: “She taught me how to overcome my fears. How to be strong. And she proved she would be willing to die just to spare me from feeling guilty. Which is something I would never accept. But it’s proof how loyal she is and how far she’s willing to go protect the people she loves. To protect me. Joyce, I’m not the child you remember me to be and I’m not the perfect young woman you imagined me to be in my absence. You don’t really know me. You don’t know what I did and what choices I made. I think I’m much farther away from your idea of a good daughter than you think I am. And Chloe is much closer to it than you think she is”.

Max paused for a while. Both Joyce and Chloe sniffed. They had tears in their eyes. David’s eyes expressed profound sadness as well.

Max decided to tell the last thing she’d been wanting to tell Joyce for a long time: “Joyce, I’m going to tell you something now. I’m not telling this to hurt you, or make you sad. On the contrary. When you hear what I have to say, even before I’m finished, I want you to interrupt me. I want you to be indignant. I want you to tell me I’m wrong. That I have no idea what I’m talking about. That I have no right to say things like that. I want you to throw me out of your home for daring to say that, do you understand? Here it goes. Based on how you always have patience, support and kind words for me and how you have very little of that for Chloe, it seems to me that you’d rather have me as a daughter than Chloe. Is that true?”

Joyce did none of the things Max wanted her to do. She rested her elbows on the table and hid her face in the palms of her hands.

Continue reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55536358

[pricefieldizcanon]

Poem that I wrote from Chloe to Max ❤️

Max,

My Angel. You came back to me when I needed you the most.

My Savior. I was incredibly depressed after my dad died and Rachel went missing. You hella saved me, Max. My world was crumbling before you came back. With you back, my love, I can actually get out of bed and enjoy life again.

You are my rock and I’m yours. I’ll always be here for you, Max. Always. Like you’re always here for me.

I would love to live with you one day. Waking up beside you... Telling each other every morning, every day, and every night, that we love each other more than anyone in the world.

We’ll get through this, sweetie, we give other strength.

I love you, my sweet Angel, Max Caulfield. ❤️

[00ops1e]

Sunshine for Everyone pt.2

Pricefield! Fluff!

Life is Strange - Max Caufield x Chloe Price

After saving Chloe at the expense of Arcadia Bay, our favorite girls are forced to flee their hometown. It soon becomes apparent that while they can run from the storm, running from their desires just isn't plausible.

click here for part one

“I swear I could sleep forever,” Max mutters, cuddling into the blanket further. The motel had proven to be a good idea, using someone else’s hot water and blankets was always nice. The pair were too tired to even notice the television only had four channels, or that the mattress was a little lumpy. Maybe things just weren’t so bad if they had each other.

“We can stay as long as you'd like,” Chloe trails off, “s’cheap enough anyways we deserve a vacation.” she babbles with eyes half closed, no longer sure of her words. The girls lay in bed, inches between. The last room available happened to be a single, and she had managed to haggle the price down, so fucking score again. When the man in the office mentioned the single bed, Chloe felt something flutter deep in her gut. It was a giddy, childlike feeling, but muddled with some sort of anxiety. 

Max shifted in the bed, mind still racing, “Will you hold me?” She heard the words fall from her lips before they even registered in her brain. The question appears to catch both girls off guard. It hung in the air for a moment, Max began to babble, face growing red, “I- 'm sorry I really didn’t mean to… I just, I can't stop it's all too much. I don’t know what's w-wrong with me.”

Without hesitation, she pulls the smaller girl into her arms, as if rehearsed, as if Chloe had been waiting a lifetime. Instantly the tension evicts Max’s body. The sweet musk of her shampoo, perfume, whatever it was completely enveloped Chloe. Holding her tight just felt natural, like all was well with the world. Comforting others has never come easy for Chloe, always awkward, never knowing what to say or do. Not with Max though, she made everything easy. Existing with her felt like hearing an old song and singing along perfectly, yet recalling none of the lyrics. She traces small circles into Max’s back, the smaller girl somewhat buried in her chest.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Chloe starts, angry at the world for putting her max through all of this, “y-you didn't ask for any of this. You shouldn't have seen even half the shit you did. Max, I swear to you if there was a way I could take it all away, I’d do it.” Max looks up at her, tears in those beautiful blue eyes threatening to spill. A pang of fear hits Chloe right in the gut. Did she say something wrong? Did Chloe cause those tears? 

She begins to ramble, “Shit, I’m not saying I'm not glad I found you again, or that you shouldn’t have saved me or-or anything like that,” a sense of urgency laced her tone, god she was supposed to be helping not making it worse. “I just- I wish I could fix it, seriously Max. I am so so fucking happy you’re with me again. I don’t know, I guess, i-i just feel like it's all my fault” Her voice thickened towards the end, holding back a sob. ‘This is not about you Chloe,’ she thinks, reprimanding herself for being so selfish. But the guilt had been festering, gnawing at her organs like some feral dog with a bone. She was the reason the whole world had turned upside down.

“C-Chloe,” Max mumbled, sitting up to look at her properly. With shaky hands, she took the girl's face in her hands. Forcing Chloe to meet her eyes, hands lingering on her cheeks a bit too long before pushing the messy blue hair behind her ears. Her hands rest languidly on Chloe’s shoulders, reassuring her somehow. Max sat and contemplated her next words before answering, “None of this was you, okay? This is some freak-supernatural stuff okay? I do not blame you. Do you hear me? Please don't ever think that. I’d go through it all again if it meant I had you. Chloe, you're my best friend.”

It was like Max was able to reach inside and undo the knots in Chloe’s stomach. No one had ever done so with such ease, such grace. Not even Rachel, though that hurt to admit. Max just knew her, regardless of the years apart. Deep down, way below the rough punk girl exterior, Chloe was still the same little girl Max had grown up with. A soft smile inched its way to the surface, god how could she not smile looking at her? The way her hair fell, perfectly framed those soft doe eyes. Those fucking freckles and long lashes. The way Max would look up at her, eyelids heavy, how could anyone keep a straight face? Chloe hadn’t realized she was staring until she felt a soft squeeze on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” Chloe mustered up, embarrassment pricking at her cheeks. She shifted in place, yearning for closeness once more. These feelings, they can't be normal. Max’s words reverberate in her skull, ‘my best friend’  they stung a little. Those ten letters formed a lump in her throat, a pit in her chest. The words had some sort of mal effect on her, and she just couldn’t pinpoint the reason. Chloe once again chalked it up to just feeling weird about Arcadia.

The blank look in Chloe’s eyes prompts Max to speak. Whatever had her in such a trance could not possibly be kind. Max used a shaky hand to brush the girl’s cheek, “Do you think we could get some sleep now?” she proposed, pulling Chloe from the complexities that danced in her mind. 

She nods silently and lays her head on the pillow, wriggling slightly to settle in. Max drapes an arm around her shoulders, pulling that mess of blue hair onto her chest. Upon feeling the weight on her chest, Max lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. This was a comfort unknown to her, never before had she felt this light. An absentminded hand travels to Chloe’s hair, despite all the bleach and dye damn it was soft. With her fingers tangled in the blue locks, everything felt right in the world.

“Everything that happened was so terrible,” Max breathes, wanting to offer one final comfort before slumber claimed them both, “It was so terrible, we’re not okay. But we’re gonna be. We can work through it Price, we’re a team and-and we can heal together. I’ll help you, we don't have to face things alone.” max consoled, her voice wavering ever so slightly. 

“It's you and me against the world Caufield, now and forever,” Chloe assured, tightening her grip on the smaller girl, as if afraid she’d get snatched away, “seriously max, what would I do without you?” she let out a small chuckle before closing her eyes and passing out, still entangled with her best friend.

I have yet to begin writing the rest of this (call of duty brainrot is taking over my life) but i promise my google doc has many many ideas. stay tuned ig? lots of love, liz

[mediocrewallflow3r]

A sneak peek of To be Loved and Have Loved for my LIS fans... 👀. As always my writing is explicit and not for minors! Shoo!

Nathan falls hard onto his elbows, his softening cock resting right up against your clit. Gentle shushes come from his mouth while his right hand comes up to cradle your head. Your legs feel like melting Jell-o - your mind is even worse off.

I’ve never seen her more relaxed.

“You were such a good girl for me, baby, look at you all tired out,” Nathan coos softly, his free hand coming up to caress your red cheek. “I’ve never seen you so fuckin’ tired,” he chuckles out in amusement at your post-sex state. His cum and your slick stain the ridiculously high-thread-count sheets adorning the bed. “Yovuer goaneh soafht,” you mumble out, incoherently.

“What?” Nathan asks with his head tilting in confusion.

His bruised knuckles brush gently against your chin, causing your glazed-over eyes to meet his.

Your swollen cherry-red pout parts, quietly you try once more: “You’ve gone soft,”.

Nathan snorts softly and a slight smirk rests on his lips.

“I suppose, just a little damn bit,”.

Your head begins lulling to the side, resting your cheek on Nathan’s silk pillowcases. The soft scent of vanilla and traces of his expensive cologne fill your senses allowing you to breathe deeply. A feeling of deep relaxation flows through your body- the first time you’ve been relaxed since Nathan’s life first entangled with yours.

Nathan moves to get up- you whine quietly- allowing his fingers to brush gently over yours he promises quickly: “I’ll be back, don’t pull a muscle nerd,” amusement tinging his tone. Despite the childish grabby hands you’re making at him, Nathan pulls on a pair of boxers looking back at you with sparkling eyes. Slowly, you smile at him, a smile so innocent Nathan feels a layer of ice melting around his goddamn heart.

Reluctantly, he pulls away from you and begins padding into his bathroom. Quickly, he’s opening up the cabinets looking for some kind of soft cloth, panic setting in when he discovers he doesn’t remember at all where things are in this cursed house. Thoughts are running rampant in his head as minutes tick by: what if she thinks I don’t care, I shouldn’t have left her, fuck, she’s going to leave me.

His bruised hands yank a soft washcloth out of one of the cabinets, his other hand fumbling with the sink handles. Warm water flows out quickly while Nathan shoves the cloth underneath. After a few seconds, he’s bolting out of the bathroom and back to you.