#i dont have a tag list rn so i'll just reblog this forever and ever and ever amen

[demonmary]

taking careful aim (a teenage mary fic)

Connecting with other girls had always been hard, at least for Mary.  Ever since she snuck her father’s salt-packed shotgun shells into the pockets of her backpack for kindergarten show-and-tell, she had been marked as some sort of social outcast.  Mary had learned to hide parts of herself before she could even identify which parts those were.  

And then there was Frances. 

Mary first saw her a few months before they would officially meet.  It was nothing but a chance encounter, just a brief moment at the laundromat with Mary passing the wall-sized windows with a rush in her step, only slowing once time did when they caught sight of each other.  

Mary locked eyes with a rugged-looking girl with cropped dark hair and even darker eye makeup.  They both stared, Mary getting embarrassed and looking away when the other girl didn’t, so she quickly resumed her hurried steps. 

[read on ao3 or continue below]

In such a small town, just a few blocks from home, Mary didn’t often see people she didn’t know, and she really didn’t see people like that.

Mary met Frances - properly met her - on the first day of their junior year.  Mary remembered thinking that the other girl could be mistaken for a boy if it weren’t for the way she smudged out her eyeliner and the deep red pigment she had imperfectly swiped over her lips.  

It was only a few weeks later that Mary found out Frances (or Frankie.  She prefers Frankie.) would have enjoyed that confusion.  

Mary didn’t want to like Frankie.  The girl made her uncomfortable, made her think too hard about her own girlhood, made her address parts of herself that she’d worked hard to shove away.  

Mary did like Frankie though; she liked how the girl wore chunky boots even though she was tall enough without the added height.  She liked how Frankie wore makeup like the other girls but didn’t wear it like the other girls.  

Being like the others - Mary wanted it and hated herself for wanting it.  But Frankie?  Frankie had fun, loving every moment on the fringe.  She said things Mary feared, and she said them with a smile.  

Frankie watched the boys and said things like, “dontcha ever wish you could be like them?” and Mary felt smoke filling her lungs and blotting out her response.  

They were watching football practice, but in a different way than the girls above them, the girls sitting on the bleachers and cheering when the boys finished a drill.  Mary and Frances were watching with a tint of green, green like bronze rusted.  The rosy-colored tinge they should be watching teenage boys with had patinaed into strange, unexamined jealousy.  

Mary didn’t like how it felt, the envy instead of lust, so she tore her gaze away from the quarterback and refocused on the other girl.  

They were watching football practice, but they were really watching each other, hiding under the bleachers and passing one of Frankie’s cigarettes back and forth, sharing the silence as much as the smoke.

Frankie caught Mary staring and pulled in a breath, pushing out hazy rings to rub in Mary’s interest.  Frankie liked being watched as much as Mary liked watching.  

Mary liked how it felt to get caught staring, feared how it felt to get caught staring.  She didn’t realize she was still staring as she contemplated the feeling.  

Frankie finished her cigarette and asked Mary if she’d finally take her shooting soon.  She had been promising for months, ever since Mary used her hunting-for-animals excuse after she showed up with a few noticeable scrapes from a job with her dad.  

Mary jumped on the distraction, glad her staring went unnoticed or at least untouched.  That weekend, they’d go that weekend, and Frankie said sure and that she’d come by in the morning.  

Mary had a hard time falling asleep that night.  Excitement or nerves or both or something else unexamined. 

Over breakfast that morning, over eggs and toast carefully prepared for Samuel by Deanna, Mary mentioned with her feet swinging underneath the table that she had a friend coming by.  

She ignored her parents’ exchanged looks, barely noticing them through her giddiness.  They asked her friend’s name.  She told them.  They must have thought that Mary’s got some lanky, awkward, pimply seventeen-year-old boy on his way to the house; they must have pictured how they’d scare the kid into treating Mary right.  The confusion made Mary giggle. 

She didn’t want to correct them.  Her parents expected Frankie to be some boy down the lane.  She didn’t correct them.  She thought it was funny, thought Frankie would think it was funny.  

When the doorbell rang an hour later, and Deanna went to answer it, it wasn’t so funny anymore.  Deanna did not look like she was laughing.  Mary was not laughing either. 

Frankie could always get Mary out of her head so quickly.  At least away from the part of Mary’s head that her parents liked to lock her in.  Mary and Frankie rolled around to the back of the house, to the shed in the corner of the property with its chicken-scratch warding and devil’s trap on the floor (uncovered and bizarre, surely to Frankie).  Mary forgot that Frankie shouldn’t see - the other girl always brought down her walls before Mary could realize they were there for a reason.  

Frankie just raised an eyebrow, not too shocked, only observing the way she did.  Mary yanked a shotgun off the wall and slammed the door shut before Frankie could see anything too weird.  

Frankie looked at Mary, watching.  Taking everything in.  Frankie looked at Mary’s hands where they wrapped around the shotgun the same way that they watched the boys when they practiced their tackling.  Mary could feel the heat, the jealous green-flame.  She liked the way it burned. 

The two girls made their way out to the woods.  It was hunting season, so the sounds of gunshots wouldn’t be alarming to anyone nearby.  Not that anyone was nearby.  

Mary grabbed her bag, yanking it off her shoulder and loving how the clinks and clangs of the glass hitting inside drew Frankie’s gaze again.  They worked silently, an understanding passing over them as they lined up the bottles.  

One of ‘em had about two shots of Jack left in it, and so Mary giggled and offered half to Frankie.  They drank, sharing swigs from the same bottle.  Mary knew what Frankie’s lips taste like then, even if only because they tasted the same, whiskey wet on their tongues. 

Mary shot twice first, practiced in a way that made Frankie whoop with glee as the bottles burst in line.  Mary lined up a third shot before thinking twice, smirking tight and secretive as she looked back to Frankie.  

Frankie told her she looked good like that, the words falling out ready and raw in the autumn air.  

Mary blanked and blushed and rushed over to crowd the gun into Frankie’s hands.  Mary could deal with the shotgun; she couldn’t deal with the spoken truth.  

But Frankie didn’t stop speaking.  It was all questions then, which Mary could answer.  The girl asked how she should stand; is this right?  Hands like this?  Fingers here?  Thighs far enough apart?  Stance correct?  Feet planted right?  Chin angled like this? 

Mary could answer, but that didn’t mean she would.  She remained silent the whole time, correcting Frankie with gentle touches.  Mary put her hands on skin where Frankie’s clothes didn’t cover, feeling the heat through the fabric where they did.  

Frankie’s first shot missed.  It was way high - the recoil took her by surprise.  She swore and stumbled back into Mary’s body, leaning into the way Mary caught her by the waist.  

Her second shot clipped the neck of the fourth bottle, spinning it off its branch-perch and knocking the fifth bottle as well.  Mary asked if Frankie was aiming for that one or the third.  

Frankie laughed and shrugged, went in for a third shot before Mary was ready, but she made it.  With a solid shot through that third bottle, a laugh punched out of the two girls from the impact.  

The gun was quickly forgotten in the celebration, placed carefully on the ground and stepped over as Frankie crowded Mary away from their homemade range.  

Mary could see the way that Frankie was trembling.  The adrenaline, probably.  It could do that.  Mary felt herself shaking; that had to be why.  

“I liked that, Mary.  Liked that a lot.”  

Mary did too.  “Yeah.”

“I like you a lot, Mary.”  

Mary did too.  “Yeah.” 

Frankie was just a foot away.  Twelve measly inches.  Mary couldn’t close the gap.  

“You too, Mary?”

“Yeah.” 

Frankie looked away, twisting her neck to look over her shoulder at the bottles, two remaining on the branch.  

“Think you could shoot those from twice as far this time?”  

“Yeah.”  

Frankie laughed, throwing her head back in the carefree way she did, running off to grab the surviving bottles and set them up further back.  Mary was left in her wake, frozen in place as she watched, rosy-tinted stare rusted green with jealousy again.  

another ao3 link ! kudos / comments r sooooo lovely and wonderful 2 me

[gaywario420]

𓆝𓆟𓆞𓆝𓆟𓆝𓆟𓆞𓆝𓆟𓆝𓆟𓆞𓆝𓆟𓆝

hello there! this is just a lil blog where i post anything that comes to my mind ^^ i dont post very consistently though lol

GO AWAY (i.e. don't follow me and ideally don't interact with my posts) if you are any of the following...

✿ generic DNI criteria. any kind of bigot, including terfs, you cant hide behind that stupid label forever >:-[

✿ anti-mspec lesbians/vincians, like what did i ever do to you???

✿ pro-ana/thinspo blogs, yall are legitimately scary n make me rlly upset :[

✿ proshippers and maps nononono no no NO.

✿ harry potter fans, i hate you with my entire being

✿ south park fans, fuck off with that

✿ fans of any of vivziepop's work, yuck

✿ people who make, like or support AI 'art' beyond simple shitposts, plz just leave it to humanity

my thought tags...

✿ #howdythoughts🌻 - all of my own posts

✿ #rebloggedthoughts🤼‍♂️ - reblogged from others

✿ #otherthoughts💅 - miscellaneous

✿ #fandomthoughts🎭 - media i like!

✿ #blorbothoughts🥩 - characters that im abnormal about

✿ #musicthoughts🎷 - i have a passion for music...

✿ #artthoughts✏️ - an enthusiasm for art...

✿ #cinemathoughts🍿 - a fondness of movies...

✿ #foodthoughts🍳 - and a deep love of food!

✿ #animalthoughts🐱 - mostly my cat

✿ #schoolthoughts📗 - education related

✿ #rockthoughts🪨 - geology

as well as a handful of now abandoned tags...

✿ #nothowdythoughts❌ - now replaced by the current reblog tag

✿ #psythoughts💭 - i used to be a psychology student...

✿ #sociothoughts👎 - and a sociology student!

i did originally plan on using a vent tag and an nsfw tag, but ive come to the conclusion that id like to save all that for my actual journal! if i do say or reblog any questionable things i'll simply tag them as suggestive, nsfw, or vent :]

a list of media id consider myself a 'fan' of- not in order of favourability- whether i post about them or not...

✿ DHMIS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! its been my biggest hyperfix for like 8 years!!! no sign of this train stopping either, heheh :]]

✿ Wes Anderson's works, im absolutely in LOVE with his films right now :D animation is also a general interest of mine! ESPECIALLY wreck-it ralph rn

✿ all sorts of bands! kglw, everything everything, fm skyline, tame impala, etc etc...

✿ various nintendo properties. mario, kirby and punch-out mean the most to me for sure

✿ many different indie games- fnaf and bbieal are the best, but there are plenty others that also have a special place in my heart :] balatro has really been growing on me lately!

✿ theres a TON of other misc. stuff i could name, but this list'd go on forEVER if i did so!!

and we're all set! enjoy scrolling through my mindless ramblings ^^

(i'll replace these stamps one day...)

𓆟𓆞𓆝𓆟𓆝𓆟𓆞𓆝𓆟𓆝𓆟𓆞𓆝𓆟𓆝𓆟