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@f1rstcut
≺ F1RSTCUT ≻ ( first cut ) the wound that never heals. you know what they say about flowers cut too early? summer isn't the same again. [ an independent, curated take on maria flores from gun media's the texas chainsaw massacre game. ] as written by scout. mst. ( 30 ). any pronouns. guidelines under the cut.
main account. @t4mpered
pops over here to say a thing real quick.
maria's one of those types of people who will say ily again to someone even tho she just said it three times in an hour. and no, it doesn't lose meaning to her. no, it doesn't mean she's lovebombing / wanting anything out of it at all. why should she be the only one that knows she loves someone? she'll tell you again and again. and i think she definitely sometimes doesn't realize that can be overwhelming to people who gatekeep and guard their love. to hear her so genuinely just say it in the moment. because she thought it. because she wanted someone to know. platonic or romantic, btw!! she tells her friends she loves them all the damn time.
having a convo with someone, she'll interrupt them just to say ily and then encourage them to keep talking. someone does something stupid / silly, she'll bust out the ily just bc. she just has so much love inside of her at all times.
she's very much like... i don't get tired of saying it, i don't mean it any less than the first time i say it, what is love if it's not meant to be shared in the moment with the person / people i love?
frolics on the dash to give everyone flower crowns and forehead kisses.
for transparency in case anyone is waiting for me over here, i'm NOT abandoning mawia, but definitely @t4mpered swept in as my current main muse and maria is secondary. i'm still gonna pop in here to do stuff, but it's going to be very lowkey for a lil. danny just blindsided me.
maria calling people pendejos like ana does ❤️
chap two maria.
@f1rstcut: is that what you're asking me?
it's almost as if they've agreed to meet in secret ( again ). conspiring as the proximate dusk bleeds warm orange over the rolling landscape of the texas hill country. pockets of color cling to the dirt in the form of native flowers, but they're more difficult to detect at this time of the year when everything begins to go dormant or withers because of too much damned sun & scarcely any rain.
johnny smells of oil, of exhaust, the tang of perspiration, and something coppery. it stands to contrast that of the cleaner scent that maria wears, but she always smells good.
it's sunday, but rest is for the wicked, or so his mother declares. this is the only time he's spared himself this weekend, and wholly for maria. maria who's likened to that of a cool breeze to the stagnant summer air. a chapter of a life of which he'll never get to experience himself; so he supposes he's living vicariously through her in the meantime. to see life through her eyes, if only for a few seasons until —
"so what if i am?" johnny asks, but doesn't look at her. not yet. he's instead pretending to be fixated on the horizon while they're both sat on the tailgate of his truck, two bottles of coca-cola in hand that he'd brought from the gas station.
"i'm just sayin', maybe we oughta branch out and try somethin' new .. together." together feels foreign on his tongue, but he savors those what ifs all the same. maybe he could entice her. "a new waterin' hole where no one knows neither of us. somewhere to stay." together. somewhere that ain't here. somewhere where he could keep her under the lens of his own microscope to pick her apart in peace.
she should be at church, her mother would say. it's sunday. an urging guided by the fact that her grandmother would be adamant about keeping a candle burning all day for continued prayers after they've returned home from the dusty little white building upholding god. la virgen de guadalupe burns bright for abuelita's mijas. but it's always been impossible for maria to see herself confined to pews and the stuffy inside when outside feels and looks like this. the wildflowers are scant, but the sky still twists with colors she wishes a camera could capture. purples and reds, the orange casting off the sun as it threatens to be swallowed by the deep blue of night. a breeze toying at her hair. johnny's smile caught somewhere in her peripherals, pulling her focus entirely. it all captivates her. he captivates her.
living and enjoying life will always be more fulfilling to her than church ever will.
she drags the gold cross on her chain necklace twice before letting it fall against her skin, fingertips still wet from the cool coca-cola bottle, and then she reaches for his hand. "together, hmm," maria repeats back, pretending like she's mulling it over when the second he spoke it into existence, she knew she wanted it. wanted that. wanted it with him. the road is open and endless. where could they end up? picking away hair that sticks at the corner of her mouth with her free hand, she hops off the truck bed. leverage still found in their held hands.
"pues, let's go then," and she means it. casually fitting herself between his legs and taking the soda from his hands to guide them to her sides. to breathe and then feel his fingers slot between her ribs. to anywhere on her person. her palms rest at his forearms before sliding up to his shoulders. "right now. i could call in a few favors. i have time off to spare." it's impulsive and silly. she has classes still throughout the week, but the call to adventure is so much more difficult to ignore. it's a playful challenge, the way she narrows her eyes up at him suddenly, mouth betraying her with a smile all the same, "or are you teasing and you don't mean any of this, johnny?"
Thomas Kennington - Pandora, 1908
▍ ❝ incoming kiss for sonny. maria fixing his polo shirt collar and then dropping a kiss on the bridge of his nose. <3 - @f1rstcut
There was a gentle fluttered touch left behind where she kissed his nose. A warm feeling shifts under his cheeks as the remnant sensation of her fixing his collar lingers. A twitch in brow, almost furrowing from the affectionate gesture; a feeling not yet familiar, but warming up to. Welcoming it, even.
He clears his throat as his hand smoothes any creases from his shirt, taking her gesture as a sign that he needs to tidy himself up. “Thanks, Flores,” he adds, his posture straightens, hands fidget at the folds of his shirt where its tucked behind the belt, further ensuring his appearance was well adjusted.
“Does it look okay?” he asks, comfortable enough to give a slow spin for her observation, though a touch of lacked confidence hangs over his head. An outfit curated today from new-bought clothes; patterns and colours picked out by her days before.
there's little she loves more than seeing her friends step into themselves in a way that lets their light shine. every single one of them has something so special about them. something she's seen immediately upon meeting them. sonny with his smarts. his disarming smile. the safety that comes with him being anywhere in the room with them all. he notices so much. maybe too much. and in turn, she always notices him. a warm smile surfaces the second sonny turns and maria's hands come to her cheeks in open and avid admiration.
"okay? no. te ves guapo," you look handsome. "i told you that color would look great on you," she says, not admonishing, but to encourage him further.
"everyone's going to ask you to dance, just watch," maria teases. it's an hour before their salsa class together. if there's anyone she trusts not to step on her feet, it's sonny williams. "and i'll be left there. a wallflower." dramatic and playful, she rests her wrist across her forehead and fakes a swoon.
barks barks barks
SEYCHELLE GABRIEL as LOURDES DELGADO FALLING SKIES | S04
i still can't get over grandpa being all chismoso and getting all the tea from maria enough to where he actually turns on his fam for a scream. he said hold up turn on ur locations for this girl, she's onto something. i like this one.
the mental image i have of maria getting up from the basement and the first time she sees gpa is rightfully terrified but then she starts just talking to him, maybe desperately, maybe pleading, but he ??? doesn't talk back, so it's this weird confidante moment and then her sneaking back down before she's found by others and it becomes a thing. her telling him stories. mexican folklore. her talking about the fam. just !!! it's like she's working hospice and keeping someone company when she's the one in the dangerous af situation dkjdkskdkf LIKE IT'S FUNNY especially in silly game context BUT also reinforces that she brings people to her / draws them in / is some sort of light and beacon. idkidkidk something something about her insane charisma and infectious aura
drops this here and barks!! when people ( the weirdo gamers that get angry over everything ) complain about maria being alive but love and horror and hope and horror all go hand in hand in hand
@f1rstcut kissed julie's forehead.
they still smell like roller rink and the adjoining arcade. like salty snacks and sugary treats. julie's personal favorite, a cherry icee from the concession stand ( with a dash of vodka ), still stains her lips with evidence and they're both too busy laughing about the week's highlights to care; peter mccullough had pissed himself in class after having fallen asleep, the weekend's bender still clinging to his breath.
he'll never live that down! he might as well transfer to another school! he's shameless, though, julie mentions, he'll utilize it as another story to tell others one day; reminiscing on the fuck-ups of the old college glory days.
it's julie's prerogative to poke fun here and there, especially those deserving of the spotlight, but occasionally she'll pause, look to maria with an expression that reads 'tell me to shut up' or 'am i going too far?' because she trusts her judgement. she trusts maria to tell her like it is.
like now, even through the watershed of laughter. they even laugh at own laughter ( she snorted ). it's a procession unending, and only interrupted by the press of maria's lips to julie's forehead. julie adores maria all the more for her unabashed displays of affection as they walk arm in arm along the sun-baked sidewalk. hips occasionally bumping. julie's personal pair of skates slung over her bare shoulder by their laces.
"your place, or mine?" she smiles big & bright, wrinkling her nose at maria. peter mccullough had asked the two of them, separately, the same at one point. an inside joke for the two of them.
"yours. mine isn't clean at the moment and i think andrea was bringing home a guy," she plays easily into the inside joke, head tilted in full open admiration of the smile on julie's face. peter had some gall, but there's something admirable to it, maria supposes. could she really blame him for shooting his shot with julie crawford? if she's giving the benefit of the doubt and usually she gives out too many of those. "the gross one i was telling you about," she continues on, arm wrapped around julie's waist still as they walk. "frank 'n beans. she," her roommate, she means. "insists he figured out how to stop the smelly feet thing, but i think she's just used to it."
either of their skates pull at her hair and brush against her back. maria pays none of it any mind. if she had her way, the day would continue on. the rolling end of the weekend means more busy days for the both of them and while they're good about keeping up with one another until the next time they have more than a few minutes to spare, maria's still loathe to let julie disappear from her sight just yet. tomorrow she'll be tired. likely sore from the times she'd fallen on the rink. her stomach aching a little more than usual because of how much they've laughed. it's too early to end things just yet. the sun isn't even close to setting.
"actually," she stops short, eyes glimmering with that tell-tale hint that she might just be up to some sort of something. ( the same sort of something that has her wandering off at parties only to show back up with a litter of kittens she found. the same sort of something that has her lost in the woods off of trails or caught out in sunflower fields way beyond the coming of dusk. ) "how badly do you want to go back right now, juju? there's only one right answer."
@markedprey: she failed. again. it's a litany of attempts that lead her back to this same spot. this same dark, cold room. she's caught in some sort of purgatory. a time loop with no end. the same scratches on the wall. the same background noises all around. there's a chainsaw revving here and there. once, she thought she heard voices. someone with a voice that didn't belong to any of the faces she'd seen shuffling in and out in a blur. she'd asked them for help and a long silence was all she got in reply. another time there was screaming. the only way she's able to count time passing has become the frayed state of her shirt. the bruises or scratches or cuts she tallies up a long the way.
sissy sliced her cheek the other day. tuesday. she remembers that.
the one with the birthmark on his face took her picture. took her picture with her own camera. that was thursday. she remembers that.
how many tuesdays and thursdays have passed now?
at the focal point of everything, it's always him. with the crooked grin. the scarred face. the guy from the diner. from the gas station. the guy with the charm. the one she got close to. johnny.
he's here again. at every corner. at every turn. and he'd stopped the next hit from landing. why?
her temple throbs. adrenaline has long since left her. they got her. the older man. the one with the sharp bark and the hard stick. her vision still blurs along the edges, but she doesn't lash out or bite at the hand that brushes hair from her face now. he's helping her right now. isn't he? ( why why why why why ) forcing herself to focus against the onslaught of exhaustion, maria watches johnny. she watches the way the shadows play against the sharp lines of his face. she waits to see if his eyes will glint like his blade.
"i'm not sorry," she says after a second, voice small, but the look in her red-ringed eyes suggests her fire hasn't burnt out. she's scared, but not silent. idly, she rubs at the raw skin around her wrist. no longer looking at him. "i hope he limps because of that kick. he's awful." drayton, she means.
is it just me or did all the fam suddenly get more texan in their new voicelines.
johnny out here with his twang hittin' hard.
one of my fav things about maria is that it probably seems like she's dating every single one of her friends at any given moment bc there is no difference btwn how she acts with them on a regular basis versus any label put on top of an "actual relationship". sorry not sorry she's got a lot of love to give and is genuinely in love with her friends.
