open starter !
location: flower’s grille and pub
maxwell could be aloof, boxed in comfortably by a task or some clump of semi-relevant information, but he wasn’t completely oblivious. he wasn’t upset by sensing something untold in the air, just calmly curious.
“why am i getting the sense that you didn’t really call me here for tutoring?”
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starter for @d1la !
location: park bench at rocky view national park
marriage was a peculiar, exhilarating plight. the combining of lives, souls, and often blood (but not in maxwell’s case), comes with the price of looking too closely. any beautiful thing might have some unsightly flaw, something painful and rancid that not even generations worth of emotional improvement and prioritized compassion could swaddle with enough love to make it wonderful, forbidding it from hiding away ever again. maxwell’s college sweetheart had, after five long years, stared at him with such a fever that it had tore holes in him, shredded and exposed like the worst possible outcome of a childhood bike ride. maybe marie was never still enough for max to do the same in return -- completely, anyway. marie was this massive, icy, constant moving neptune in the center of his orbit. she was fierce, irritable, but could be dramatically sincere; and you had to fight for those moments. you had to tear, baring your teeth and all, through the tangled, vine-like pathway of her. maxwell, for a long time and sometimes still, figured that was what love was.
it was not love then and it isn’t love here, on a truly loved bench, two nails underneath his thigh, little bumps. its armrests standing the test of oily fingers and lazed forearms, and for a moment he wonders if someone else had sat here, loveless like himself. three nails on the armrest. one looks misplaced, like a lazy construction worker stuck it on with callous fingers and a prickle of impatience. maybe the city hadn’t paid them enough. that scenario sends a sensation of ick through him, and he clears his throat. max is pulled from his thoughts by a tap on his shoulder, and swung his head around to a motivated-seeming figure gazing at him. he stands immediately upon this discovery.
a hand is extended, face bright with awe and information. “miss öztekin, god, an honor. i’ve read so much of you and your mother’s work.” he says, “just excellent, real power of the people stuff. excellent, excellent.”
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atticlight:
location: cup of joe’s !
dante + open !
dante had seen party days , from winning championships to the fraternity down the street throwing them . and dante thrived in those atmospheres , taking shots and doing beer bombs , he apart of the party and sometimes the life of it . but somehow he had made some of the deepest connections there , and now brought their pets into the clinic and dante loved catching up with people . but what he didn’t like ? the hangover the next day . “ i truly do not remember the hang overs being this awful , ” he mumbled into his coffee .
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If you had caught a younger Maxwell on a sweaty weekend in college, noggin filled with science and that minor business management class, which turned out to be really helpful with his tutoring business, you might spot the ever-so obvious markings of a hangover. His rule was always this: drink in even numbers, so it was never just one drink. The day after, hair just fucked enough to show some quick, desperate attempt of normalcy in the bathroom mirror, which in some ways is worse than just leaving it wrecked. He’d like to think that in his years he’s mastered the art of pulling it together after the rarity that is a night out at the bar these days. This is a big whopping misconception, although he’s glad not to be alone. Across from him is a picturesque hangover in the form of Dante; who also happens to be the best person to be with when your snake hasn’t eaten properly in a week. “I think Godzilla is laughing at us.” A nod towards the red, bothered corn snake in a sensible plastic box on Maxwell’s lap, which he insisted on bringing today. Zilla likes an outing.
“Speaking of,” eyes trace the coffee across from him, “..we should probably eat something. Right? My college remedy was crackers and honey -- though, genetics can take a role in how bad a hangover is. Isn’t that funny?”
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charlie cox, cis male, he+him, 39 // i think maxwell snowe just walked by, a charlie cox lookalike. they’ve been here in rocky view for about seven years, and seem to hang around the natural history museum a lot. i’ve also seen them working at the university of rhode island as a science professor. when asked to describe themselves they’re likely to say science teacher cliche, godzilla fanatic and lonely homebody.
you can read all about maxwell HERE, (TW: mentions of alcoholism ahead!) but here’s the rundown (until i get a mobile nav in place)! little summary & wanted connections below the cut! wahoo!
The man with the rented, brown-tinted box home, with the sort of doorknob with enough delicate fingerprints to suggest OCD if you were weird enough to stare closely at a doorknob. So, please don't disturb the one, two, three tap -- he's securing safety for his loved ones.
A man of science, Maxwell Snowe is about as teacher-y as it gets. He owns a globe that he actually finds himself using (it's a map without a distorted surface, c'mon!), he drinks enough coffee to fill his truck engine every other hour as some radical new wave energy source and sometimes calls his student's by their full names. He's also a man who was married to a delightfully awful woman named Marie who wants nothing more than to throw him into one of those black holes he spoke about for an hour over Thanksgiving dinner two years ago. She wants a divorce. Maxwell does not. He has a nephew named Michael who is absurdly queer, wonderfully blunt and smells like a hipster that would bully Max in high school. He's a good kid and he's not a fan of Marie -- picture him on Max's couch with his sneakers making indents on the arm rest, coffee warming his belly with a hand behind his head trying to convince the man that the single life is the only life. Now, picture Maxwell multitasking between his eager nephew and making sure every marshmallow in his hot chocolate is properly coated with hot chocolate -- he doesn't like when the tops stay dry. He’s thinking about pouring himself a drink instead, but won’t/
Running on equal amounts of factual information, fierce and somewhat naïve consideration for the mean, ugly and cruel, and love for simplicity as well as the endless abyss-like wonder of science, Maxwell Snowe is the kind of guy you'd see as a nonplayable character in a video game who gives you one line of wisdom that's useful later in the game. Oh, and Maxwell enjoys Tetris.
WANTED CONNECTIONS:
Ex-wife
Nephew
College friend
significant other
ANYTHING HONESTLY THIS MAN NEEDS PEOPLE
Someone he tutors
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Charlie Cox as Michael Kinsella in Kin, 1x03.
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science and progress.
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