margot.

[margotaway]

we wrote our names on the o v e r p a s s .

⸻  margot st. pierre. 32. hunter. helltownfms rpg.

& i hope it lasts f o r e v e r .

BIO. PINTEREST. RPG.

[lauraharriers]

JODIE COMER ph. Scandebergs GQ Heroes, June/July 2025

[gotolunarvalleys]

Jodie Comer via Instagram June 6, 2025

[saintlcss]

Jude rolled her shoulder, did not produce the smirk that would have come with the ease of such a setup.  “Your family, you should know.” The work had been abandoned, adorned now with marks of a distracted effort. The dull hum of her unsatisfied mind. “Last week obviously. The clinic was just stacked with them.” Released dry and cold, warmth would not be dragged out into the air from such a skeleton. No ease to be pulled from such a being, unsocialised still. “They are if you play with them.” The fingers stretched, twitched in the cold—some small spot of red produced, again entreating to be acknowledged. Felt. Flicked away again, the response to blood and offering only a short laugh. “You’re alright, kid, wouldn’t want you over excited so close to your bedtime.” 

Tongue released with a click, a head half cocked as if the surrondings could be ever possibly be omitted. “Insane?” Some word, barren of much meaning now. Maybe a number of years ago, to someone else—when humanity meant something, even if only watched from the outside. Their survival left little for sense. The years were a cycle of waiting, observing as others gave up or in. “And you find yourself prone to sanity here?” The train wouldn’t arrive, they would never leave. One way out and its teeth always always so near, days etched out in Their shadows. 

“No.” Refuted with quickness but without scorn. Something similar that would not go unremembered. Blood not tasted but bruises and cuts dug into, a sting the only thing felt. A child, watching the drip of it with no injury felt. Still how she met herself now, blood observed with a mind finally blank. A sign of life she had never properly contained. “You like how it tastes?”

[margotaway]

kid. the word detoured margot's attention from the wound. much like the metalic drips from jude's hand, there wasn't a distaste. rather, margot liked the three letters following her seated direction. kid. felt like the closest endearment. she hadn't been ripe with that sort of warmth from an adult figure in a length of empty time. kid. the corners of her mouth twitched upwards revealing the likeness. an expression that didn't mind the shift from the primitive preying that felt taught in her jaw, to now the eased playfulness.

banter. nicknames. how much could margot dip herself into the other? so needy for something she never quite had. not parental. lacking from other figures. only ever knowing such from her brother. he'd been long gone. only crept in the shadows of her buried thoughts. "my sanity has never been more clear." confident. smile brimmed with some enjoyment of the game. survive or game over. the bottle in margot's hands tipped over. she forced a circular movement until a tornado twisted in the liquid. eyes watched it spin, and unwravel. margot sighed having only been amused for a blink of time. "don't mind it." she shrugged. memories of cut fingers shoved into her mouth. adolecent accidents of tripping — scraping her knees just to press her lips to the curve until the wound only pulsed. "it flows inside of us. why be disgusted by such a thing? would mean to be disgusted with ourselves." she pondered. "well," feet swung over the bench to sit herself upwards. "some people are disgusting." spoken to exclude herself from the category. "you're alright, kid." she tossed back. that glint too beaming in her eyes.

[willdumaurier]

[hvneysuckled]

The offer was unexpected, seeing as how the woman had reacted to her being there in the first place, but a single glance up to the sky told Dilara it was best to remain. That attempting to make her way back to the town so close to sun down was not a journey she wanted to embark on. Not when there were worse things threatening her life out there, than that of the woman and her dog. Or so she’s been told, as she’s yet to encounter the real thing. Seeing the injuries and deceased bodies over the last month had been enough proof to keep her from venturing into the night. To ensure her windows remained closed and her door locked. 

“  What kind of stew?  ” she asked curiously, no longer walking towards the door but also not approaching her either. Dee kept a comfortable distance, having already witnessed the quickness of the dog. In all of her life she’s never had a pet. With her parents always off working, and her taking care of her siblings over the years, there was never a need to add more to their plate. Her sisters always wanted a cat, but Dilara could have cared less. Her irrational fear of animals and their loyalty to humans went deeper than she’d admit. While she understood most pets could be harmless, it didn’t stop her brain from thinking up scenarios where she’d be attacked. “  Maybe I can help.  ”

[margotaway]

a normal society lead an amber lit dining table. laughter of old memories filled the room as people gathered to the table to share a home cooked meal. margot saw those scenes displayed in media. saw images of them in books. the same scenes didn't mirror into her home life. not with a father with a liquor stained throat, and crimson hands. not in her adoptive parents lonely neglect — and certainly not here with dilara — in a town where smiling faces stayed tauntingly glued to the windows. margot was a dreamer to what she was not — what she could not fully have.

"rabbit." grin stretched thin. the expression nearly dimished the former tune of tension once provided by an intruder. margot's mind collected what little she knew of the other woman, and decided they'd been friends. great companions. that dilara would provide warmth that she saw in those scenes. — if not, margot's mood could flip like a switch. "fresh meat. you missed out on the hunt." eyes seemed into dilara's. wondering if the woman had a violent streak. "—and the undressing." smile still remained. "did you ever read...." humming in thought..."peter rabbit?" a snap of her fingers, and phantom was at her side following margot into the kitchen area.

[sersh]

JODIE COMER 76th Annual Tony Awards “Meet The Nominees” Press Event, May 4th 2023

[mcckies]

“My mother used to swear by Chanel,” Valentina piped up. “I never really agreed with that, though. Something about it always being high status.” And she fought the urge to roll her eyes as well - not at Margot, not at all. But rather at a faded memory of her mother insisting that Chanel (as a brand) was the greatest thing of all time. She had seen the red carpet looks herself, and wasn’t a fan, but her mother loved the handbags, the shoes, the perfumes. Valentina missed it now, and wished she could inhale a bit of that old scent, the scent of a mother - second only to the warmth embrace of one.

She watched Margot take in her space, and she puffed up with pride. There was something aged to it, some dust that had gathered on windowsills, the fact the single trash can close to the middle of the room was nearly filled to the brim with discarded fabrics and thread. She tried to save everything she could, as some people seemed to like the patchwork look, even if it made her want to gag at the sight of it. Maybe someday she’d grow into someone more hardened like Margot, someone who let go of the finer things in life, with a dog and a rabbit and boots thudding on the floor of another girl’s inner sanctum. But she wasn’t sure she’d ever get to that point; she was too stubborn to let go of these things here she loved.

“So how long did it take you to let all of that go?” she asked, pulling herself up to sit on her bed, her long blanket draped over the sides of it. Even on her worst days, at least she had her room, and all its comforting glory. One leg bent and the other dangled off the side, arms crossing in curiosity. "Or did you ever? At least, completely."

[margotaway]

"that's just it — feels like a mother brand." the beaded pearls. tweed. bouclé fabric, and unforgiving houndstooth. quilting patterns that belonged to elder women who carried small purse dogs long after their million dollar husband passed. one's that smelled of white powder. margot's nose scrunched at the thought. not a brand fit for either of the women. valentina seemed to embody a peacock. feathers puffed exotically in a design that hadn't followed suit of normally. vibrantly colored in a way that made eyes widen in notice. margot felt driven to that sense of self.

how long. ten years had been a long time trapped in one place. a sigh depleted, sadly, "mm, suppose after the last person who stole my loewe jacket and cut it up into rags for washing dishes." casually spoken when the scene had been gruesome. an irate margot lashing out in such a feral manner — using the very scissors to make cuts in that thief of a person. she'd lured them into the thick of the wood, mauled their body to bits with the craft utensil and then left their disappearance to the fate of the night creatures. "about three years in." seven years ago. there had been other blood on her hand kept silent, treated to her own amusement. nonchalant, margot peeled her jacket off and folded it to the floor. some brand she didn't know. dirty, but warm. "give anything to feel fine silk on me again..." giving it all up, she hadn't really.

[fallacias]

''Tinkerbell was here?!'' She exhaled almost dramatically, blue eyes widened in disbelief, she couldn't believe her own ears. Had she just missed the fairy by only a few minutes? Fuuuuck. In comparison to the other blonde's feigned emotions, Sera's shock was very real. The gasp that left her mouth from the reveal of the fairy dying because she didn't clap had her feeling upset. ''Oh no...'' she whimpered, lowering her gaze towards the snow to see if she hadn't accidentally stepped onto her. To see if she could find her little fragile body buried in the snow. Her cold fingers took hold of her red apple cheeks as she shuffled around her own axis to look for the small fairy, afraid she'd already vanished somehow.

The thought of Tinkerbell having died made the blonde pout when she'd gotten close to the ground and dug her fingers through the cold powder and found absolutely nothing resembling to a tiny winged body. ''Oh no!'' The words were let out with a sob. ''You killed her!'' Sera exclaimed this time, looking up to a whole bunch of branches that made it hard to see the other up there. ''You murderer!'' However cruel her accusation was, her tone was much resembling one of a toddler that didn't get its candy they were wailing for. She stomped the ground with one foot and crossed her arms, sniffling but the tears weren't there.

But then the appeal of climbing was offered and her urge to climb was back on the table. Eyeing the stump of the tree, she tried to calculate which branch to start on exactly. Dedicated to see who'd murdered the fairy now, she squinted and licked her lips, ''I'm coming to get you!'' Sera made sure of that now as she set foot on the tree and slowly tried to make her way upwards.

[margotaway]

margot's eyes widened like saucers upon the other woman playing back. the usual go about was filled with grumpy townspeople who didn't follow her humor. they collapsed her mood until the woman restrained herself and filled her imagination with their last breath. that filled her day with some sense of joy after her own had been depleted. "you're a weirdo." cheeks puffed of hair muffled out. limbs still dangled from the thick limbs of the tree. such a strange girl. people highlighted margot in her adolescence. never understanding what their words had ever meant. it drove her to hide away upon made branches. the seasons that sprouted more leaves were the best times to hideaway. she'd camoflauge herself for hours until her brother demanded her to come out. for him, anything.

amused by the digging sight below, margot giggled. "that two-winged fairy had it coming to her. she's always flying in my face. fairy?" margot huffed. "gnat." swatted away. nothing but dust. though there had been no real fairy, margot had taken care of others in the same sense. a nuisance gone with a violent hand. "ooooo, i am so terrified." eyes rolled over her laughter. the warmth inside her insulated winter coat had kept her comfortable, but the woman loved the pinched icy feeling the season brought to her cheeks. unmoved, she glanced down watching sera's mind crank its gears in the question of how to get up. margot had unspoken faith. perhaps she could wait, still — just when sera would make it to the top, margot could knock her back down. "hey! ever hear the story of jack and jill ?" she shouted below.

[tessaendures]

Gaze skimming over the sludgy snow remains this close to spring - trampled and dirty on the sidewalks, though surprisingly cleaner in the streets than one might usually expect. So strange, to think that people out beyond the borders of this town relied so heavily on cars and transportation to get them from one place to another in their busy schedules while Arcadia stands still. Her car, a prized possession she'd saved up enough money to purchase on her own, even if it weren't the prettiest or the newest, was rendered practically useless. Just a storage space and little more.

So in the the end, her suggestion maybe isn't the worst. At this time of year there normally wouldn't be nearly enough clean snow to make it worth while - but in Arcadia...the one bright spot was the snow was still white. Yippee...

"I'm sure it'll be alright..." She murmurs after a moment, shoulders lifting in a nonchalant shrug. As if a goose egg bump on the top of her head would be a huge problem for her, considering the rest of her problems around here.

Tessa's eyes shift back towards her, curious. It's so strange, that light in her eyes of childlike excitement or hope or... Tessa couldn't really put her finger on it. All over a bag of skittles? How long had she been stuck here -- How long would Tessa be stuck here? No, she couldn't think like that...it wouldn't be like that for her. Right?

"You can have 'em," she finally concedes, tossing the bag to Margot without thinking too much more about it. Were they something worth saving? Would years go by and she'd wish she still had that bag for nostalgia and comfort, or some shit like that? She could only hope not... "Seems like you'll enjoy them more than me, probably." Besides, she couldn't risk being hung upside down by her toes or whatever the fuck it was she'd threatened said.

[margotaway]

"sure. give it twenty minutes, and your head will start to look like the egg that the brat in willy wonka was trying to steal." that giant golden goose egg. margot shrugged, eyes peering in the car. a small slice of tessa's persona. just a part of her that would end up rusting away with the dozens of others. at least oil pumping wasn't an issue in arcadia. no billion dollar losers stripping away the land for their own selfish pockets. no climate cry. no, they had bigger issues at hand.

catching the bag was disappointing. her reflexes claimed a prize she wanted more fight for. it wasn't the skittles, it was the banter in between. margot's bottom lip folded over in a brief pout before the wrapper was placed between clench teeth — ripping the bg open. "do you like the green ones ?" margot only did when she threw a handful in her mouth. their individual flavor lost among the others. combined into something confusing and fruity.

nevertheless, fingers spread the wrapper further open. a red candy selected and plopped into her mouth. a dramatic whine shrilled up her throat. "mm! god, these are terrible great. take a couple. put them under your pillow, and then in a few years treat yourself." ten years in this hell hole had wiped luxury away. holding the bag out, "trust me."

[saintlcss]

Jude rolled her eyes. They’ll get stuck like that if you carry on, child. She had been warned against the gesture more than enough times, yet it often seemed so apt of one. Tedium would only find words to be wasteful. “What can I say? Everyone’s a critic.” She watched her breath shifting in the air, kept longer in fractions made in the cold. She licked at the leftover blood drying on her lips. Like the taste of an old nail, the blood thick and familiar. “I’m sure there’s a bridge somewhere you can scuttle under. Better audience.” Not as exact as an insult, just a musing that fell out bluntly with a characteristic lack of carefulness for the words or how they would be received. 

“Knife.” No further explanation would be offered. Jude did not feel implored to elucidate herself. Of the process in which she had not quite believed something here could be restored. The knife kept from another life, always kept secure in her pocket, cold still against her chest. Just the slip of it, felt sharper by the slashing open of older cuts and wounds. The hands deft and practical, it was not a usual misstep. The weight of days that had dimmed her capacity for complete presence in any moment. She stirred on the edges of something, restless but exhausted. Evaded sleep made for long days of little definition. She turned the shallows of her attention back to Margot, away from the sky, to study her expressions and movements. Found little to be concise in the conclusions that she came to. 

The blood had stopped for now, it would only pool again if she pushed against the calloused skin of her digits. If she willed it back. There was no appetite in her to see it on the snow again, even if her own had been easier to stomach. Spilt without much consideration. She rolled her shoulders out against the wall of the train station and shrugged it off. 

“Why, you want to drink the blood instead?”

[margotaway]

it was considered. a bridge. hiding beneath the arch of the structure just to torment anyone who dared set a foot upon it. using any measures to make sure they didn't cross to the other side. margot silently mused before, "aren't trolls short, and hairy ?" with a cocked brow, the woman folded her arms. still aware of the dripping blood jude licked away at her injury. the cold air couldn't raise the hairs on the back of the blonde's neck, but the crimson could. "when's the last time you had a tetanus shot ?" humor displayed. margot could rest easy on that line. keep her from latching her own mouth to jude's hand. a scene of some rabid vampiric nature. nothing abnormal to the daily actions arcadia provided. "knives aren't toys." tone of a scolding mother inside of an unbothered young adult. "need me to teach you how to properly handle one?" the bottle of alcohol margot held could be smashed against the frozen bench. turned into a sharp weapon good enough for a weapon. sharper than judes perhaps. more sterile. ragged and chaotic as the half-joking woman who bantered. "drink your blood?" primal. decadent.a soothing paradise in the form of what flowed beneath skin. living. fresh. warm from the cold air. margot hummed before breaking out into a forced laughter. "that would be INSANE!" the capitalized word sent her body to sit up. hands on her knees to keep herself steady from jumping the woman. "did you ever cut yourself as a kid ? suck the wound until the blood stopped ?" she did.

[hvneysuckled]

There had been plenty of people who’d warned her about the people of the settlement. Dilara did her best to avoid confrontations of any kind and with anybody around. She also wasn’t someone who believed in mere rumors, but there was no way they could all be false. It wasn’t one or two people whom she’d heard it from, there’d been countless people in the few weeks. There was no indication that this was the case for the woman before her, Dee was sure she’s never seen her before, but her allegiance to the settlement was only speculation based on this solo interaction. Dee didn’t move despite being let go off - too frightened of the animal still - so she kept herself pressed against the wall. Watching the interaction between the woman and the beast at their feet. 

Dee couldn’t remember how long she’d stood there in silence, simply observing the other’s movements, before she gathered the breath to respond. “  Dee.  ” she said, turning her gaze to the doorway as she wondered if she’d make it out safely or if the women would run behind her. “  I’ve been here only a few weeks.  ” Dilara went on to explain, as if that should give her some type of immunity from whatever the hell was going on. “  I didn’t mean to invade your space. I was told I could explore the cabins. But uh- I see this one is occupied, I will head on out.  ” She moved closer to the door, slowly in her attempt, and reached for the door handle.

[margotaway]

stillness mirrored between woman, and owner. the dog sat in respectable distance from dilara. most mistook the real beast between the two. phantom, harmless unless a rabbit crossed his path. margot knew he had a fear of flies. whenever they swarmed around him, the dog would run off — fail at nipping the flying bug. margot — she could be vicious if provoked. catastrophic. nothing more than a time bomb. one that hadn't always ticked towards disaster. surely, she could be diffused.

"you could stay —" an offer of her tongue. no poison at the tip. the cabins could grow lonesome. while margot enjoyed the solace of isolation... there was such a point where she yearned for a taste of human connection. not from the taunting smiling faces outside of her windows at night. "the one next door is empty. not much too it. just left over junk from the person before. wasn't much of a decorative person, and most has been scavenged." was dilara scared ? a brow cocked, ears perked — margot's mouth twitched pleased that she could almost tell the rhythm of the others heart. "do you like stew, dee?"

[baarra]

Something mortal jostles around them.     In the adjoining corridors,   loud footfall and louder cough,   and in the shared ribs in everyone’s chests.     This thing extends to the unsaid of her nervous shake.     A living thing wound,   redly,   at the base of a tastebud.     How your tongue itches to speak,   and then your nails drag at your thigh,   and then your leg bounces.     Fuzzing outline.     There is too much foreground,   too much of her and not of her shadow.     Eager like yellow in spring’s wake,   after December’s snapped sage green stems.     He stares down at her.     Breathing but only just.     Stolid in such a grief-weak presence.     He eyes her lacing.     It isn’t poor,   adequate,   but it isn’t fully neat.     Skewed in one direction and the next.     Deft for her,   but not for him.     ‘   Right,   ’     he says absently,   right at the precipice of affect.     She will not awaken the depths of him.     Neither the scars knived across his abdomen,   nor his crimson nail-beds.     She is a farrago of the dead and its whet barbs.     He is beyond himself.     Placid and,   thus,   flayed.     Beat-less heart.     Heatless gaze.     He almost sighs.     ‘   What was the knee bouncing for?     You should keep a calm heart.     Slow down.     I won’t tell.   ’     This takes gentler inflection,   coaxing the tributaries of trust from her light to her shadow.     A meat-sweaty hand proffered,   splay-fingered,   to the slender,   curious fawn.     Spotted and toothed.     White and whitened,   furred by brown.     With a soft rasp,   he reciprocates.     ‘   Scout’s honour.   ’

[margotaway]

lack of patience. margot wanted to grit the words between her teeth. grind them down in admittance until her mouth was full of white dust. clean of the truth. weak in his eyes. instead, margot stood a little beneath his height with a chest puffed and a tongue withholding. patience thinned with the bouncing knee — but she now stood unflinching. allowing nothing but a grin to stretch across her features. pleasant, but behind hollow pupils vibrated chaotic rage. hungry. they'd not waste it upon each other. "must save our energy for the hunt." if she didn't hold a childish nature, the woman would have set forth out the door. yet, instead, as the strap of her bag slid onto her arm...the other arm lifted and smacked against his own. strong. practically a brick wall. one that margot wanted to chip away at.

[giflxndia]

[rizzless-sapphist]

If she looked at me like this, I would actually FOLD

[tessaendures]

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose," Tessa grumbled, still soothing the sore spot that had collided with the roof of the vehicle. But that was neither here nor there - she'd managed to sort all of her meager belongings, and the small stash of snacks was probably the most exciting portion of it. After all, what was a road trip with no end in sight that didn't include road snacks? Admittedly, the trip had ended quite differently than she'd expected...

Still, she smiled briefly as the other's eyes widened with childlike excitement over a simple bag of Skittles that she held aloft in her hand. Who would've thought a couple dollars at the corner store would buy such happiness? Yeah, this world was dark as fuck that Skittles was the most thrilling thing around.

Tessa leaned back against the car, pulling the treat in close lest she try and snatch it from her fingers. "Oh? Is that a threat? Quite a fascinating picture you painted," she murmurs, cocking her head and raising an eyebrow. Hanging one upside down by one's toes - yeah, that sounded like some sort of medieval torture shit. "Not sure my suffering is worth your victory. What's in it for me to share?"

[margotaway]

perhaps margot would react differently to a tiny candy bag if she hadn't spent the last ten years trapped in such a hell town. adulthood would have caught up to her, surely. — caused her to crinkle her nose at any sugary treat bloated in capitalism, and color dyes that weren't good for you. the thought of the sugary clumps stuck to her teeth would make her skin crawl. just maybe.. but arcadia had planted her mind in a time where adolescence was wearing off. a twenty-first birthday...now thirty-one. a part of her delusion clung to child-excitement. innocence rested there. — or at least the yearning feeling for it. "should smack some snow on your head so you don't get a goose egg." a sigh. long. winded of the verbal exchange not panning out as easily as she'd expected.

hazel hues gave a subtle observation to the clung treat. as if margot was going to ravish tessa brutally for them. she could. smart, margot could pin that at least. a little clumsy, but smart. "mmm," lazy. growing bored — yet the blonde's mouth still watered. "too early in the day for threats. haven't even had breakfast yet." sharing wasn't cancelling out any selfish need. all margot truly wanted was company to keep. company that didn't make her fingers want to wrap around a throat, and squeeze. arcadia had been lonely. more so since her brother had gone into the night.

[mcckies]

Thank god, a smart animal. Valentina had a memory of going over to her grandmother's house a few weeks after she adopted some something-doodle mix, white and crusty around the eyes, who sat on her lap and she found herself just sitting still and waiting for it to move with an obvious grimace. That was a lapdog that could fit inside a medium sized Givenchy, so she didn't even want to know what this other dog's deal could possibly be.

She didn't even touch on the carcasses the woman had with her, but thank god she had the sense to leave them outside of her immediate living space. Febreeze didn't exist here.

But her words gave her pause, a mentioning of something from so long ago. Something that only felt like it had lived in her memory, and illusion almost, that only she could remember. Somehow, in that moment, the woman across from her made her feel less alone, and Valentina was intrigued. She leaned on her hand, which leaned on her bed, relaxing as she studied the woman, trying to imagine her in pearls, designer dresses, makeup done. "What God's up to is none of my business," she said, then leaned forward. "Tell me more - Margot, was it? You can't just drop something as wonderful as Dior and expect someone like me not to be curious."

[margotaway]

valentina's space was nice. perhaps even lovely. a familiar itch to a more careful margot. one that had slipped in the shadows of arcadia, and the years that kept her locked in it's cage. a former self. it was so easy to slip away. much more difficult to cling to who you were before in a life full of so much luxury. eyes lifted to the sound of her name spoken — clearing the familiar mirage. after all, they were not the same. they possibly couldn't be. margot always carried a deep rooted feeling that no one had been like her — not beneath the surface where aspects of herself that she should be shameful of where delighted by herself.

"wardrobe full of dior. mother always said dior was elegant enough to not age out." lip twitched at the mention of her adopted mother. "timelessly hand crafted. not like chanel. no, chanel was best suited for old women who smelled of baby powder, and let their pomeranians lick off their overload of makeup... versace was gaudy, but dior.... timeless." margot repeated. her mind taken back to a memory she wore the designer clothes, while her hands viciously wrapped around another girls throat for saying some childish insult.

[itsplurb1ntime]

Jodie Comer for ELLE

📸: Cass Bird